Chapter 158 - Bound by Flame

Peter Eddings adjusted his seat on the hand-made saddle and leaned slightly forward, one gloved hand resting on the curve of the dragon’s neck. The scales beneath his fingers were a deep red, almost the color of blood. They were warm to the touch even at this altitude. Below them, the ruined city rolled on, the scattered ruins of civilization stretching out for miles in every direction.

It had been three days since the orcs retreated from Camp Johnson. Three days since Peter had met with the other leaders of this quaint alliance. He’d joined, of course, but not because he intended to remain an equal member. Rather, he saw it as a stepping stone to taking more power for himself. That would come soon enough.

Peter sat upright, spine straight, coat whipping behind him in the wind. The dragon flew in silence, massive wings cutting through the cold morning air in long, deliberate strokes. Her eyes were fixed ahead, but he knew she was listening.

“I’m sure you remember our agreement,” he called out over the rushing wind. “You behave, and everything will be fine. You slip your leash…” He let the thought trail off, smiling faintly. “Well. You already know the consequences of rebellion.”

She did not speak. Peter didn’t know if she was capable of speech or not, but she hadn’t used words yet. But he knew she was no dumb beast. Rage radiated from her in waves as he spoke. It was there in every flex of her claws and each twitch of the leathery membrane stretched between her wings. Peter appreciated it, in a way. She was a queen brought low, a sovereign forced to bow. But she hadn’t broken.

Not yet. That, too, would happen in good time.

He leaned forward again and murmured near her ear ridge. “Let’s not make this unpleasant. There’s no need for anyone to get hurt, so long as we understand each other.”

Still there was no reply. But her flight path did not waver. The Air Guard base rose ahead, a concrete compound nestled among trees and walls. If he was right, then this was a stepping stone to greater things, and it was ripe for the plucking.

The dragon swept in low, casting a massive shadow that rippled across the runway in front of the Air Guard base. The compound loomed ahead. Peter guided the dragon into a slow, circling descent, savoring the growing panic below. Soldiers scrambled like ants, some running for weapons while others ducked into bunkers. A few stood their ground, bows half-raised and forgotten at the sight of the creature diving toward them. He could see it on their faces, the awe and fear evident even at a distance.

He reveled in the sense of power those looks gave him.

The dragon’s wings snapped as she touched down outside the front gate. Several soldiers had rushed out through the gate, but the wind from her descent sent them sprawling. They just stared as Peter swung a leg over the saddle and dismounted, landing lightly beside the beast’s shoulder.

The dragon stood perfectly still, tail curled behind it, her eyes filled with restrained fury. Peter adjusted his coat and called out to the soldiers.

“I’d like to speak with Colonel Turner, please.”

“Yes sir!”

He wasn’t made to wait long. Turner appeared less than a minute later, striding out through the front gates like a man trying to reclaim control of the moment. His jaw was set in a tight, unreadable line. He stopped several paces away, staring up at the dragon. Then at Peter.

“Last I heard, you had the dragon as a captive,” he said, voice even, “Now you’re riding it?”

Peter offered him a smile. “She’s fully under my command, yes.”

Turner’s eyes narrowed, but the calculating gleam in them was unmistakable. “How?”

Peter spread his hands. “Let’s just say we came to an understanding.”

The colonel looked back up at the dragon again, and this time Peter saw his thoughts ticking away behind the scrutiny. Turner was a soldier, a strategist. He knew the value of force, and here was force incarnate standing on his doorstep.

“You do seem to enjoy making an entrance,” Turner muttered. “Come inside. We’ve got things to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” Peter replied, inclining his head graciously. Then he turned back to the dragon. “Remain here. Do not fly. Do not attack unless attacked first. Understand?”

The dragon hissed and blew streamers of smoke at him, then settled herself down on the runway. She understood, all right.

The command building was a pre-Event structure, its concrete facade still holding up well, although parts of its walls were blackened by past conflict. Turner’s office was deep inside the core of the structure. The interior smelled like old coffee and fresh ink. Maps of the surrounding territory were tacked to every wall, their corners curling. A whiteboard bore a list of rotating patrols and notes on crystal usage. A stack of alliance communiques sat untouched on the corner of his desk, weighed down by a half-empty mug.

Turner shut the door behind them and gestured to a worn chair across from his desk. Peter sat with ease, legs crossed, glancing briefly around at the clutter.

Turner didn’t sit right away. He paced.

“I have to say, this isn’t the most auspicious time for a visit. They told me this civilian council would help, but it’s been nothing but trouble,” he muttered, grabbing a sheet from the top of a stack and shaking it. “All I’ve gotten are slow approvals, petty disagreements, and people who think wartime logistics can be handled by committee.”

Peter didn’t interrupt. He waited.

Turner dropped the page, moved to the wall map, and tapped a finger on a red-marked zone right across the runways to the west. “And the avians? Still in their old airport nest. They hit our foraging groups twice last week. These are fast raids, in and out. They strike like lightning and vanish like smoke. We’ve tried flushing them out, but they’re dug in.”

He turned to Peter, arms crossed. “The alliance doesn’t see them as a major threat. Not like the orcs. But I’m the one losing people every time they get bold. You think I’m going to get reinforcements? No. I get a memo from Delores reminding me that they’re in charge now, the council, I mean. Not me.”

His voice was tight with bitterness.

Peter leaned back slightly, just enough to suggest calm, measured control. “I imagine that’s frustrating.”

Turner snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

Peter let a few heartbeats of silence stretch out before speaking again. “Well, we’re allies now, so if I can help, I ought to do so. What if I told you,” he said, voice smooth and steady, “that I have the means to end your avian problem permanently?”

That got Turner’s attention.

Peter uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “A combined strike. You provide troops to storm the place. I’ll bring the dragon.”

Turner raised a brow. “You think that thing’s fast enough to catch bird-people?”

“I think fire is very good at making birds fall out of the sky,” Peter said. “And once their nest burns, they’ll scatter—or die.”

The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of a wall clock.

Turner studied him, weighing things. Then, slowly, he nodded. “You’re confident.”

Peter smiled faintly. “I’ve seen what she can do.”

Turner exhaled through his nose. “Alright. We do it. I’ll have troops ready by dawn.”

Peter rose, smoothing his coat. “Excellent. I think this will mark the start of something important—for both of us.”

Turner didn’t respond, but his hand lingered on the map a second longer, tapping the circle that marked the avian nest. And Peter knew he’d already won.

The sun was just rising when the attack began.

The air was crisp and clear, dew still clinging to the cracked concrete of the old airport’s runways. Turner had gathered a massive compliment of soldiers and they advanced in disciplined formation, shields raised, blades and bows at the ready. They moved carefully, but they were determined. Peter knew all of them had lost friends to these creatures, and they wanted payback. This time, they weren’t playing defense. They were here to finish it.

But the true destruction came from above. Peter circled overhead, the wind cold against his face, his coat flaring behind him like wings of his own. Beneath him, the dragon beat the air with thunderous rhythm. Her growls vibrated through the saddle and into Peter’s bones.

Below stood the avian nest. The place only vaguely resembled the airport it had once been. New wood structures hung from the buildings, forming precarious roosts. Tall watch posts rose from hangars. As soon as the avians saw the oncoming force, drums beat out a steady series of beats, alerting the entire colony to the impending attack. Not that it was going to do them any good.

They spotted Peter and his dragon seconds before he struck. He ordered her into a dive, and almost immediately avian warriors burst from their perches, wings spreading, spears raised. Some began casting magic—small gusts of air, sharp currents that tried to shove him off course. One launched a spear wrapped in coiling wind that almost clipped his shoulder.

Peter didn’t flinch. He simply leaned forward and whispered, “Burn them.”

The dragon obeyed.

She opened her jaws wide and let loose a column of fire. The flame struck the central roost, igniting it in an instant. The air filled with the sound of screaming as fire engulfed the upper tower. Feathers turned to ash. Roosts exploded into flame. A pair of avians trying to dive past the attack were caught mid-flight and tumbled toward the ground, still burning.

Peter and the dragon circled once more, then dove again.

She tore through a half-dozen defenders in a single pass, claws swiping and leaving ruined bodies behind. Another jet of fire turned the wood nests built atop a hangar roof into an inferno. Avian archers tried to respond, loosing their shafts, but none of it mattered. The tiny weapons bounced harmlessly off her scales.

The survivors scattered. A few flew off, running from the devastation. Turner’s troops had arrived by then, storming the outer perimeter with brutal efficiency. The soldiers’ bows shot down most of those who tried to flee, pinning them between flame and steel.

By the time the dragon landed atop the shattered remains of the control tower, the battle was already over. Smoke rose in great plumes across the airfield. The scent of scorched feathers filled the air. Piles of ash marked where entire nests had once stood. Bodies smoldered in the grass and along the runways. And in the middle of it all, Peter dismounted slowly, surveying the devastation with cool, quiet satisfaction.

The avian threat was broken, and the Air Guard would never forget who had made it happen. That second part was what mattered most to Peter, of course. He was perfectly happy to do small favors like this, when they won him massive rewards.

Peter walked through the wreckage of the place, his boots crunching on blackened gravel. Turner fell into step beside him, silent at first. The dragon loomed nearby, curled at the base of the shattered control tower, smoke trailing from her nostrils in slow rhythm.

“You did what none of us could,” Turner finally said, voice low. “That’s incredible. Thank you.”

Peter gave him a faint smile. “Power has purpose, if we have the will to use it.”

“You’ll get no argument from me on that score.”

They walked back toward the dragon. Peter didn’t want to be too far from her. His control was sound, but she was a willful and powerful creature. Better to keep her close when he could.

“You’re not really in charge here anymore, are you?” Peter asked. His tone wasn’t cruel, just matter-of-fact.

Turner’s jaw twitched. “The council thinks it knows better.”

“They didn’t lift a finger to help you.” Peter turned to face him fully. “I did.”

Peter let the words settle, then stepped closer. “There’s a way for you to retake your power. Swear fealty to me. I’ll deal with this council that worries you so much. You’ll have your command back, no civilian oversight, no vetoes. The decisions will be yours again.”

“You’d be the overlord,” Turner said, not quite a question.

“On paper. In practice? You’d be autonomous.” Peter tilted his head toward the dragon. “And protected. You’ll simply owe me military service, when I call for you.”

Turner hesitated. Then he nodded. “It sounds ridiculous saying it, but I’ll swear fealty to you, Eddings. What do I have to do?”

“Kneel,” Peter said. Turner did, and Peter stepped forward, laying his hands on the man’s shoulders.

He’d discovered this feature of the control stones entirely by accident. After learning of Selena’s success with the ratkin, he went home and immediately brought his troops to bear on the nearest ratkin Domain. They’d surrendered immediately rather than trying to fight him, and when they swore allegiance they set off a new power of the stones, becoming a vassal Domain.

Power snapped through the air, and there was the intense sensation of magic moving between them. Turner had said the words already. Now Peter’s hands linked their Domains, connecting and intertwining them. It was over in moments. Now Peter could sense everything about the Air Guard Domain that Turner could. The colonel remained in command of the place, but Eddings was in command of him.

Peter smiled. “Welcome back to command, Colonel.”

Footsteps pounded down the runway, and Peter turned to see Delores, winded, face flushed with anger. Two guards trailed behind her.

“What happened?” she shouted. “What the hell happened here? The council never authorized this attack! My god, the carnage here. Turner, what the hell have you done?”

Her eyes swept the devastation, the dragon, then Turner standing beside Peter. Her expression faltered.

“You made a deal,” she whispered.

Turner said nothing.

“Turner, what did you do? What did you give him in exchange for his help?”

“Nothing that mattered much to me,” Turner told her, his eyes like ice.

Peter smiled. “I did promise you I’d deal with this issue too didn’t I?”

Turner nodded. “Yes, you did.”

Peter glanced back to his dragon, who had already raised her head, taking in the argument. He raised a hand, gesturing toward Delores.

“Deal with her,” Peter told the dragon. His voice was cold enough to chill anyone listening.

The dragon’s wings unfurled with a snap, her head raising like a snake as her mouth opened wide, bright yellow light appearing in her open maw. Delores turned to run.

She didn’t get far.