“Abioye, stay.” I looked up at him. I didn’t like the way his new courage was tending. What sort of man had last night’s battle forged? “Let’s ask Ymmen, Montfre, and Tamin to go instead.” They would keep an eye on the raiders and scare them off, instead of incinerating anyone asleep in their tents!
But Abioye was adamant, and his voice sounded for the first time like he was Inyene’s brother. “No, Narissea,” he said firmly. “Ymmen is too large and too noticeable. And half the guards know that he was the dragon whom Montfre escaped on. Besides, we have to find the horses, and I can do that better in the air…” His brow beetled over his shadowed eyes. “And anyway, if I manage to spot the devils who attacked us, then there might be something I can do, for last night…”
“Abioye…” I said, again feeling queasy and trying to work out why. Those raiders last night had killed people of the expedition. Surely, they deserved some payback?
But it was the fact that Abioye is deciding to use the mechanical dragon in the first place, I thought, and willing to leave the rest of the expedition to do it! I had a bad feeling about this. If anything happened to Abioye—then the expedition could be halted, or Inyene could send someone else to take over. I needed Abioye here and working with me to help hide our real plans!
I opened my mouth to try and say all of this, but there was the heavy stamp of another of Inyene’s guards from nearby, and Abioye had already turned with a nod of his head and stalked back the way we had come, purpose in his stride.
Ugh. I didn’t want the young lord choosing the mechanical dragons over a living, breathing one—no matter how dangerous they might be. I know that he’s nothing like his sister, I tried to convince myself. But if Abioye is going to use the mechanical dragons just because they’re easier, and destructive…? I feared what sort of path Abioye was setting his soul upon…
Chapter 5
River of Deceit
“Foolish Poison Berry,” scoffed Ymmen in my mind, and I could only agree as I trudged back the little way to our makeshift camp. The sun was nearing the midway point now, and we would have to get packed up and ready if we were to make any movement towards the Broken Thumb at all. In front of me walked the rest of the workers that Abioye had sent out this morning—and in front of them the few guards who had come to watch us. I was left trailing at the back, my heart heavy with Abioye’s change of mood.
Just…keep an eye on him? I asked, knowing that although Abioye had been right—Ymmen was fearsomely big, and he was unlike any other dragon that I had ever heard tell of, with swept-back antlers of hardened bone—I also knew that he would know a way to fly and make sure that Abioye and the noisy, smelly, cumbersome mechanical dragon didn’t spot him.
He was irreplaceable, I thought with a fierce sense of pride, as I compared the grand black dragon with the paltry thing that Abioye was going to ride. What Ymmen knew from his long centuries under the skies, and what he could do—from sensing distant threats to prey or water—all of his wisdom that I was coming to rely on more and more… None of these were things that a machine could do.
I felt the warm glow of the dragon’s pride as it knew, obviously, that my assumption had been correct.
Only as long as Tamin and Montfre can also stay safe! I threw the thought at the dragon, who hissed a reptilian chuckle through my mind.
“I am more than able to do both these things, Little Sister,” Ymmen said. I could tell that the dragon was eager to have something more purposeful to do other than nursemaid two humans. I could also tell that he shared my despair—and revulsion—at Abioye’s use of the mechanical dragon. It was, after all, typical of Inyene’s type of power: False, and disgusting. I had seen her use them to scour the mountains for the escaped Daza, spreading fear and terror… And she had sat them overlooking the Mines and my fellow slaves, so we would always be reminded of what power she had over us. It’s as if just having them brings out the worst, I thought. What must it be doing to Inyene, to know that she could kill anyone, at any time she wanted? And how might it warp Abioye if he kept relying on them, too?
Their power seemed unstoppable. My own treacherous thoughts pricked me. No. Not unstoppable, I remembered seeing Abioye wrestle with his controls as he had flown them. And the ‘accident’ at the Mines when one of them had almost killed half the slaves with its chemical dragon fire.
They had faults, I thought. Just like any tool could have a weakness or could break. If a person—or a dragon—had a weakness, it could learn from its mistakes and correct itself—but I didn’t think that the mechanical dragons had any such ability.
And that might be our only chance to defeat them, I considered.
But my worries were soon replaced when I saw that there was a commotion up ahead amongst the guards of our temporary shelter. It had grown since I had left, with a second wagon being used in lieu of the mechanical dragon (now gone, presumably with Abioye on its back). Brushes and grasses had been beaten back from near the entrance, and the sides supported with struts of former tent poles. In short it looked far less temporary than it had just a scant few hours ago—but we were meant to be packing up and leaving this place, pressing onwards towards the stone crown.
On top of that, all of the workers—mostly other dark-haired Daza like myself—were sitting on the ground to one side of the tent, in the fast-rising heat.
“What’s going on?” I said as I stepped up to the gaggle of guards, my jaw clenching and my hands balling into fists as I did so. It was hard to not be around these brutish, rude and leering men whom I knew were under Inyene’s control and not feel uncomfortable.
But Inyene had asked me to be their navigator, right? That had to count for something…I tried to convince myself, even though the thought brought with it a churn of nausea from my stomach. Having to deal with these people was going to take all of the patience I had—which wasn’t a lot at the best of times.
The guards, however, did not spot my agitation as they were clearly arguing with each other. The discussion seemed to be between the guards who had come with us in our salvage mission—and a knot of the guards who had stayed back at the camp.
“What’s it to you?” muttered one of the camp guards, a woman with mousy auburn hair tied back in a ponytail. I didn’t know her name, but she looked mean. She must have been one of the handpicked Keep guards that Abioye had been talking about.
“I, uh…” I stammered. The woman had a point. I was only a lowly Daza in their eyes, after all… the thought brought with it an anger that threatened to constrict my throat. But I swallowed, breathed, and started again. “I thought my Lord Abioye said that we were to keep on moving to the Crow?” I nodded to the slightly north of east direction, where there was a dark shape on the horizon. It corresponded very well with where I knew the Broken Thumb to be.
“That’s what the Lord Abioye reckoned,” grumbled a new voice from further inside the less-than-temporary tent, as a figure emerged, panting and scowling with a face that looked like he had been attacked by a swarm of wasps. Very angry wasps.
It was Homsgud.