The winds were rough in the skies above Dragonbone Ridge. The mountains were always coiled in violent turbulence when winter came. Kyel suppressed the temptation to sink his face into warm dragon plumage, keeping his eyes looking forward. A bone-chilling wind peppered with ice scraped across his cheek.
A sudden downdraft forced him and his dragon to drop altitude. Just as quickly, their right wing was dragged upward. He concentrated hard to keep them from veering left. The mountain currents were fickle, and they never let up. It was impossible for riders flying side by side to stay in formation. Honestly, he could hardly keep on course. It took a toll on the dragon too—usually not even wild dragons flew this high.
What’s more, it was the time of year when wild dragons entered hibernation. Whomever had ordered them to fly over Dragonbone Ridge at this time of year must have lost his mind. In fact, the man who’d given that order was right there, flying at the forefront, unflinching through the storm.
“He’s a monster,” Kyel muttered.
✦ ✦ ✦
Kyel’s father had been a dragon rider, and his father before him. The talent to ride was not hereditary, and it was exceedingly rare for it to appear in three generations. His grandfather could tell so many tales of his adventures, and he was now a great rider and the captain of the force. Kyel’s father, who had also served as captain, was a genius who had managed to ride Veralgon. Kyel knew that great things were expected of him, but he had been unable to become anyone special. Even so, he dreamed of riding that white dragon one day, just like his father. He worked tirelessly toward this dream.
Then Veralgon had been snatched up by that man who had appeared out of nowhere. His grandfather Rigel had always been harsh on him. Since the day he found out he had the talent to be a rider, he remembered being complimented only a handful of times. Yet his grandfather was all over that man, going on and on about how he was God’s chosen hero. Kyel could not sympathize, as he did not believe in God as strongly as his grandfather did. It simply felt like that man had stolen not only his father’s dragon but his grandfather’s love as well.
Kyel shook those thoughts from his head. He couldn’t deny that man’s abilities. He could fly undeterred through violent airstreams and handled Veralgon like a master. Dragons cared nothing for the titles the temple bestowed. They knew only skill.
His body was lifted up again and then violently smacked downward only a few moments later. He was losing height like he had gone into a nosedive. They had already left the tree line far behind them, and bare crags were approaching right before his eyes. Gravity vanished, and as his body nearly left the saddle, only his lifeline was holding him. As he regained control, he lifted the dragon’s head and had it flap to ascend. That took a toll on the dragon, but he needed to regain the lost altitude.
“Concentrate. Don’t let it get to you,” he told himself. For now, he had to concentrate on flying.
The man at the front began rising even higher. A conspicuously higher ridge line was approaching. Once they crossed, they would be over level ground. Just one more push. Kyel signaled for the dragon to flap even harder. He could feel intense fatigue, though it wasn’t his own; the dragon was worn out. The feeling was so strong that Kyel could sense it, even though he was far from reaching unity of soul.
I worked so hard, and yet… Thinking about the mission that awaited him beyond the mountains, he felt entirely unmotivated. His colleagues were likely the same. This was not a job for dragon riders. It was a dragon rider’s duty to attack an enemy from the sky, burning holes in their lines. However, they’d had very few opportunities to carry out that duty these past few years. They were given backline roles—recon, communications, patrol. This time, they’d been given a new odd job.
Now they have us burning down a trifling orc village.
Kyel couldn’t comprehend why his proud grandfather, the model dragon rider, had accepted the mission.
✦ ✦ ✦
“We will burn down the orc villages.”
Rigel looked at me somberly. “Just burn them?”
The conference was over and we were the only ones remaining. His sorrowful voice rang through the empty room.
“Yes, and the wagons too.” I kept it brief.
“May I ask why?”
“We can’t win this battle. Instead, we will attack their supply chain to force them to retreat.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I understand your intentions. They will no doubt have to pull back once their provisions are cut off. But why us?”
What was he trying to say? If he understood that much, then wasn’t the rest obvious?
“Because the dragon riders are the only ones who can do it,” I told him. “Now that the valley is closed off, only the dragon riders can fly over their heads and attack what’s behind them.”
While His Majesty had given me the right to command the military, Rigel was the only one who could order the dragon riders, and the only one they would obey. I would need to convince him.
“I get what you’re saying, Hero, but the orc villagers are a source of income for the lords. Burning them may reduce our yields for years to come. Also, if we are launching an attack from Dragonjaw Gate, there are no longer any notable villages within flying distance. Not to mention—” He paused briefly. “A dragon rider’s role is to launch a powerful assault in battle. If we start burning orc nests… A proud dragon rider should never go around playing pyromaniac! I am reluctant to put the riders up to something of that caliber.”
He had lined up various reasons, but I suspected he only really cared about the last one. His tone of voice had changed toward the end. So that was the stumbling block for Rigel—and for the dragon riders. Now that I knew that, there was room for negotiation.
“It might be a trifling mission compared to their usual work, but please think of the results it will bring.”
His eyebrows were sagging in despair. Now they twitched. I had his interest.
“If the dragon riders’ work manages to remove the orcish legions, then what?” I pressed. “Your riders will have managed to pull off what the allied armies and Knights Templar put together couldn’t do.”
His brow wrinkled in thought, and after a while, he spoke. “Of course, the merits will be significant. But the dragon riders’ pride… Those with pride must not wield their powers unjustly. Fighting an army is one thing, but I do not like the idea of turning our flames toward the defenseless—orcs though they may be.”
“Armed or not, an orc is an orc. Isn’t destroying the orcs the mission of every knight?”
“Indeed, it is our God-given duty.”
“Then you must sever the problem at the root. Using the dragon riders for this purpose might be like using an axe to sever a sewing thread, but it is nothing shameful in the eyes of God.”
“Y-yes, but…” Rigel hung his head, but I had him rattled. I just needed to make one more push.
“Please think of those who fell to the orcs,” I said. “Would Princess Liana want those orcs to remain in that valley?”
His shoulders pricked up the moment I mentioned Liana’s name. That really got him going. I decided to rile him up more.
“The princess was not the only one killed. For their sake, we must have our vengeance. A baptism by flames!”
As I recalled, he had lost his son to the orcs too.
“It is the wrath of God! They must know his fiery rage! Let the flames of vengeance burn them to the ground! Send them cowering in fear! Have them remember us every time they see a lit match! Is it clouds that dominate the sky? Nay, it is the flocks of dragons! The glimmering sun is a dragon’s flames!”
Even I didn’t know what I was saying by this point.
“Hero!” Rigel suddenly stood. His whole body quivered as he looked straight at me. “Let’s do it! The skies are on our side! We’ll teach them a lesson.”
Dragon fire burned in his eyes. But damn, that old man sure was a pushover. I was starting to get worried about him.