James Maxey: Dragonseed

With his right hind-talon, he caught the upper edge of Jeremiah's wings near the shoulder. He pulled, tearing Jeremiah free of his wings. The slavecatcher dropped the wings, which tumbled away in the wind.

Then, he let go of Jeremiah.

VULPINE SMILED AS the giant man released of the net of barrels he carried and dove to save the boy. He was now alone in the sky with the pig-an absurd figure barely worth his attention-and the girl, who he'd seen in action at Burke's Tavern.

She rose in the air on her silver wings. Steel tomahawks dropped into her hands. He could tell as he studied her that her left arm was injured. She was more graceful in the air than her companions, but Vulpine had seven decades more experience in aerial combat.

She threw the tomahawks. The one from her left hand went wide of its mark. He caught the second one in his hind-talon.

"Care to try again?" he taunted as he glided in an arc around her. She did possess one mild advantage-she could hover. Vulpine had to keep moving to maintain flight.

In his experience, humans wore their thoughts on their faces. He often knew their next actions before they did. This woman was different. As she watched him move, her face grew blank, utterly devoid of emotion.

Suddenly, she shot toward him with an impossible burst of speed. Her right hand moved toward her shoulder and came back holding a razor sharp sword.

He twisted his torso, allowing the blade to slip into the thin flesh of his wing just beyond his ribs. It stung, but there were no major nerves or arteries there. He swiveled his jaws around and clamped them down onto her wings. The metal made his tongue tingle. With his hind-talon, he grabbed her ankle and jerked.

It took no more than a tenth of second to strip her of her wings.

She fell, still with the look of utter dispassion on her features.

She reached out and caught the looped whip on his belt with her right hand. Her sudden weight tugged him down. He beat his wings to regain his balance. A knife appeared in her left hand. She thrust it over her head, sinking it into the center of his breastbone.

If this had been her good hand, Vulpine knew he would be dead. As it was, the blade caught in the bone. Pain radiated through his whole body, but the blow wasn't fatal.

"A good effort," he said, craning his neck toward her. "I suspect you might have won on the ground." He snapped his jaws onto her cheeks, sinking his teeth down until they rested on her skull. She let go of both the blade and his whip, and reached for his mouth. Her hands never reached their target.

He opened his jaws and gravity claimed her. As she slipped into freefall he saw, at last, fear flash into her eyes.

It was a most satisfying sight.

"So much for the angels," he said. "Where's the damned pig?"

There was a grunt at his back.

He craned his neck and saw the black and white beast gliding along behind him, his snout only inches from the tip of Vulpine's tail.

"You'll do nicely for dinner," said Vulpine.

The pig snorted. With the barest boost of speed, he shot forward the final inches.

Vulpine winced as the pig's jaws clamped down on the last vertebrae in his tail.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR:

VULPINE'S TAIL WAS stretched straight as an arrow. He kicked, trying to reach the beast that held him, but his tail was much longer than his legs. He beat his wings harder. The bones along his spine popped. The pig simply wasn't flying as fast as he.

It finally occurred to him that if he slowed down, he would have the slack needed to reach the pig.

It occurred to the pig at the same instant to fold up the silver wings that held him aloft.

Vulpine was yanked from the sky as swiftly as if he had an anchor tied to him. His head whipped skyward as he dropped. In the space where he'd just been, several of his feather-scales floated in the air. He spread his wings, straining desperately to control their descent. They were falling toward Dragon Forge.

ON THE WALLS of Dragon Forge, Burke paid no attention to the battle overhead. He knew Anza and Vance could handle anything that was thrown at them, and would keep Jeremiah and Poocher safe. Instead, he focused his attention on the spy-owl. The catapults to the south were nothing but splinters. To the east and west, the dragons milled about in confusion, unsure of their orders.

The northern catapult didn't suffer from this lack of guidance. Here, the catapults were being loaded with barrels of pitch and oil. They were still a minute or two away from being able to fire, however. More than enough time to aim the cannon his men had just mounted on the wall.

ANZA SPREAD HER arms, turning to face the ground as she fell. The wind was like a giant invisible hand that held her in the sky. Of course, since the ground was racing nearer, the giant invisible hand wasn't doing a very good job.

The river was too far to reach. There were no convenient hay piles in sight. The sky-dragons who'd filled the sky earlier had gone into retreat.

She sighed. The world beneath her was beautiful. True, the hills around Dragon Forge were covered with decaying corpses and barren red earth cut through with deep gullies. The trees were twisted and stunted, and the whole area was so polluted it was as if giant buckets of ash had been dumped. But in her heart, she knew she would miss this world terribly.

A long, muscular arm wrapped around her waist. Her descent came to a sudden halt as Stonewall's momentum carried her parallel to the earth. She looked across at Jeremiah, who gave her a weak wave. She looked up into the gleaming eyes of her rescuer.

"I didn't mind catching Jeremiah, and I don't mind catching you, but I can't make any promises about the pig."

She nodded.

"You're brave," he said, as he wheeled to the north. "You didn't scream when you fell."

She smirked. The thought had never even crossed her mind.

IT TOOK ALL the strength left in Vulpine's wings to guide their fall toward the northern catapults. The pig still dangled from his tail, forcing his spine perfectly perpendicular to the earth. His wings were spread into twin parachutes, giving him some control, though they were still going to hit the ground hard. At least the pig would hit first.

He saw Sagen next to the loaded catapults, gawking at the odd sight of his father and the pig.

Vulpine was too winded to call out for assistance. No matter. When they hit the ground, he'd make short work of his portly tormentor.

There was a loud boom at his back. He couldn't turn his head to see the source of the whistling noise as it raced through the air toward him, then past him.

A black steel ball trailed smoke toward the catapult where Sagen waited. It landed at the base of the wooden war engine.

There was a flash of light and heat, and a clap of noise that made his teeth rattle. Dirt and smoke was thrown into the sky. Vulpine raced ever closer to where his son had been.

There was nothing left atop the hill but a smoking crater.

Before he could change his direction, he plunged into the smoke. Suddenly, the weight on his tail vanished, and the pig let out a loud squeal. Vulpine tried to flap his wings but the ground turned out to be only inches below him. He crashed onto the burning earth, rolling to a halt against a broad, splintered beam that had once been the arm of the catapult.

His left wing felt broken. He flapped his right wing to try to clear the smoky air.

Something moved in the smoke before him.

The pig?

It drew closer.

Jeremiah.

The boy held Vulpine's knife in his hand.

"We saw where you fell," he said.

Vulpine rose up, supporting his weight against the beam as he unlooped his whip. He coughed as the smoke choked him.