I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) by Marc Secchia (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

the mischievous purples and pinks popping into her emotions as she said, You know, it would be easy to get lost in this fog. What say you we beat Aria and the Dragonesses to the eastern tip of this island, where we agreed to rest?

How you lead me astray, Princess.

I’m just along for the ride, she chuckled, patting his head.

Hardly! Yet he well knew how fragile confidence could be. Would she ever grasp all that she had done for him? Could he find a way to tell her? Build her up from the inside?

A gristly thought to chew upon.

Picking his wingbeat, he accelerated smoothly into the enveloping greyness.

* * * *

Rolling on his back on the warming beach sand, Dragon peered sideways to see Aria spearing out of the dissipating fog bank with a certain vexed gleam in her eye. Loving it!

She led her Dragoness army in at a healthy clip; every last one of whom was doubtless wondering what their leader should do with an insubordinate male like him. This must go against the grain of their culture like a paw rubbing scales up the wrong way. Playing it cool, Ariamyrielle brought her army in to a neat landing beside the stream which ran across the beach and into the ocean. The Dragonesses paused to slake their thirst, just as he had done, first at the stream and then in the ocean. His body needed salt, a strange new compulsion.

Aria called, “Council. Princess. Sankir. Dragon – stop fooling around over there.” She clicked her talons at him, as one would summon a naughty hatchling! “Come. Let’s talk assault strategy.”

With a low growl, he stalked toward her, hot words burning unsaid upon his tongue.

The cobalt warrior frowned. “Something I said?”

“The talon click!”

“Oh. Oh! That’s just how we talk to males on the Archipelago. Is it –”

“Insulting? Gnarr! Highly, where I come from.”

“A cultural difference, then. You’re a big Dragon. Swallow your pride. We’ve more important things to talk about.”

Azania laid a hand upon her neck. Easy, Dragon. Later. Help me focus on the mission. Please?

Shaking with suppressed rage, he joined the team watching Sankir sketch in the dirt. Neat hand, he approved, as a map of the Palace grounds and a section of the main building appeared in the dirt. The Ranger explained that King Varazim and Queen Vyioli – her family were originally nobles but also refugees from the destroyed Kingdom of Taribonli, who had resettled on the Archipelago – had private chambers on the third floor of the east wing. The initial intelligence his team had received pointed to the royals being held under house arrest there; they would be heavily guarded, but mostly from inside the building, with other enemy troops stationed in and around the grounds.

Azania pointed to the elevation sketch of the building. “How tall is that balcony, Sankir Farizam?”

“Over thirty feet,” he said. “The doors are solid and the windows armoured, and – oh!” His dark eyes twinkled; Dragon suspected he had a very soft spot for the Princess. “We would consider deploying a very large Dragon, methinks?”

“As I thinks, so I do,” she joked.

Dragon put in, “Well, these small Dragonesses could not easily reach that height, but if the doors or windows are large enough …”

“Mrrrr-yum, I like your idea,” Aria agreed, touching his left wing. Apology included?

Rather less grumpily than a moment before, he explained, “Open windows, insert Dragonesses and Rangers. That should take care of matters inside the royal chambers. I could not be useful inside that building, judging by the dimensions. If there are catapult emplacements or enemy squads deployed inside the grounds, however … squish-gnarr-SPLAT!”

“Nice!” Azania growled.

The Sankir’s eyes popped wide.

Dragon said, “We’ve fought battles together, Sankir, most notably breaking the Skartunese siege of N’ginta Citadel. Azania is smart, quick on her feet and a deadly shot with a Dragon bow. We should tell you our story when we have time. Now, how long do we have to hit the capital? When’s the best time? Aria, just point this angry Dragon in the right direction!”

“Fire to my hearts,” the Dragoness purred.

Back on track.

“Let’s talk troop numbers and walk through the assault in detail,” said the Sankir. “One, we infiltrate the city and tap our contacts, confirming the royals’ location. Two, hit the Palace hard. Three, secure the building and the perimeter if possible.”

“Four, try to learn exactly where Azerim and his brothers may have been taken?” Azania suggested.

“Aye, good,” he agreed. “Aria, thoughts on the timing?”

“They will expect a night or pre-dawn assault, if anything,” she said. “I suggest we attack half an hour before sundown, right out of the setting suns. Today is Taramis ascendant. Which means, five, we should prepare contingency plans and alternative options for the Palace assault, and six, immediate plans to split up and fly north as quickly as Dragon wings can take us. Let’s do this. We have an hour and a half at most. I want to hear all ideas and concerns. Keep it snappy.”

They put their heads together.

Half an hour later, Dragon, Azania and two Rangers left for the first mission. He winged rapidly across the bay, keeping so low to the ocean that his wingtips regularly kicked up small splashes of spray. Three miles before the city, he took two terrified Rangers and one smug Princess into the snug confines of his jaw and submerged. They swam for the coastline, aiming for a small, secluded bay known to the Rangers, where an associate should be waiting for them.

Associate? Dragon gurgled.

I wonder if poor old Azerim knows how many ways his nice kingdom can be burgled? Azania’s mental voice was one huge grin, but it failed to hide her deep concern.

From several hundred Dragon paces offshore, he popped his jaw up briefly to give