Bedelth the Orange (Dragonwall Series #5)

Chapter 37 - Flying Into Battle

Kastali Dun

Claire's stomach lurched into her throat. She lifted her hand, shielding her gaze to look out beyond the bay, to the fleet of ships dotting the horizon. So, so many ships. She swallowed down the ball of nausea that turned her mouth sour. The view was unparalleled atop the king's tower, amidst the garden. To think, less than a week ago they'd gathered here to celebrate. Now they gathered for an entirely different reason.

Somehow they'd all managed to squeeze into the space: Talon and his Shields with her Queen's Guard standing near the battlements. Her guard formed a line, their postures rigid, gazing out in the same direction. Summer was upon them, and the humidity made it harder to breathe—or was that simply her nerves?

"Deep breaths, love." Talon's comforting voice should have been soothing. It wasn't. Nothing would fix the impending doom roiling around in her stomach.

She spun away from the approaching ships, lest she be sick all over the stones at her feet. Her gaze landed on her mate, speaking with Dallin.

"I know you wanted to fly with us, but I need someone I can trust. It must be you." Talon had a hand on Dallin's shoulder. The young Drengr frowned, an expression of indecision playing out on his face. He teetered between argument and acceptance. "It's the only way to ensure reliable communication between our wings and Claire's guards."

Dallin's shoulders dropped. He gave a curt nod—good enough for Talon, who strode away to speak with Verath.

Reyr stepped into the space Talon vacated, looking Dallin over. "I know you had your heart set on this."

"I should be flying with you, Reyr, with my brothers," Dallin said, swallowing. "Not standing here doing something any Drengr could manage." His protest was spoken telepathically, perhaps to keep the others from hearing. He'd forgotten that Claire could hear and hence, Talon. The king threw a glance in Dallin's direction, expression unreadable, before turning back to converse with Verath in hushed whispers.

Reyr nodded in understanding. "This isn't a ploy to get you out of the way, or protect you. You're young, yes. You've never seen battle, true. Your experience in aerial maneuvers with the king's wing is rudimentary, at best. None of those reasons is why you're to remain here."

Dallin exhaled.

"Our king trusts you over the fort's Drengr. Claire's Spriten guards have the most important job of all. Without them, we will all be dead. If something goes wrong with their magic, your warning could mean the difference between life and death for entire wings of Drengr. That is a heavy responsibility, one the king wouldn't put on just anyone. It must be someone from our wing."

"I am the logical choice," Dallin concluded, his expression clearing, his shoulders straightening.

Claire turned away from the exchange.

"All right, listen up." Talon spoke, garnering everyone's attention. "The fort's wings are in position. We will fly out to meet them. The farther from land the better. Stick to the plan. We keep the bats distracted, sink as many ships as possible. Once they catch on, there's no telling what will happen."

They'd found records of past battles with Oshea, one in particular. Sinking an Oshean vessel was no easy matter. They'd be protected from dragon fire, but there were other ways. Records from the past had pointed out unique solutions, such as dropping heavy boulders that ripped into the ships and broke them apart.

Claire had used her own creativity over the past few days, she only hoped it would work.

"Feowen?" Talon said, turning towards the Sprites. He'd stopped using the prince's title recently, not out of disrespect, but familiarity. They were technically family.