Burning Sky

Table of Contents

BURNING SKY

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Character List

Overworld Term

Broken Ground

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also Available

~ ~ ~

For the Mastekhs of the world.

May you be brave enough to be bold.

May you have the courage to be confident.

May all your hopes have heart,

And may all your rewards be great.

You are loved.

~ ~ ~

One

Wasteland

On board the Skylark

28th Thaw Month, 580 Cloud Era

A HAZE HUNG over the horizon and a sense of anticipation filled the air. After nearly two and a half months of flying west over the Cloud Sea, the Skylark was finally nearing the desert, and no one knew quite what to expect.

Warm sunlight poured down, turning the clouds into a blinding white carpet that shrouded anything lower than a mountain in never-ending whiteness. Lieutenant Nera stood at the skyship’s prow, staring at the view. Until recently she would have ignored the world below, half-believing the legends that to fall through the Cloud Sea was to fall forever, but she knew better now. Nera had been below the clouds. She had passed through the Curse. She knew the old world still existed down there and that some of the lost dragons had survived.

Was there an ocean below them now? Did giant Seadrakes hunt in the pitch-black deeps? Or was it a misty landscape, full of the twisted shapes of ancient trees, struggling to survive on too little light? Did great rivers run beneath her feet, filled with inquisitive Riverstones? Or was it an empty wasteland, filled with nothing but fog and memories?

All set? A firm clap on the shoulder made Nera jump.

Hardy. She greeted her fellow Rift Rider lieutenant with a wry smile. I didn’t hear you come up.

Too busy admiring the view? Anhardyne chuckled, leaning over the rail to study the featureless skyscape. Clouds, clouds and more clouds, not a single rocky outcrop disturbed the monotony. Even the sky overhead was a perfect blue without a smudge of white to interrupt it. There was nothing to be seen in any direction – except the haze growing up ahead. Can’t say I blame you. It’s riveting.

Nera rolled her eyes. All packed and ready to go?

Finally. Anhardyne gave a put-upon sigh. I swear the captain assigns the most disorganised Riders to me. Your lot were ready by first light. Mine are still arguing over who stole the last hair ribbon.

And that’s just the men, Nera chuckled, making Anhardyne snort.

I wish that was a joke. With the dragons making such a fuss over everyone’s hair, the lot of them primp worse than a bunch of Havian nobles. If I have one more Rider asking to borrow the hair ties I don’t need anymore, I’ll shear them all myself. At the start of their journey Anhardyne’s waist-length hair had been the envy of many, but after a dragon paid a small fortune for her golden curls, she’d embraced her shorter cut and refused all offers to grow it long again. Which had prompted many a Rider to grow out their own in the hope of making a similar profit.

Nera grinned. That’s one problem I’ll never have to deal with. She’d always kept her hair short and practical. Pure black and stick straight, not even the most fashion-obsessed or follicle-challenged dragon had shown an interest in it, but Nera didn’t mind. Long hair was a pain to fly with.

Sharing a smile at the follies of others, the lieutenants fell into a comfortable silence as they leant against the prow rail and watched the haze grow. A smattering of shadows flickered over the clouds as a flock of giant miryhl eagles spread out in front of the Skylark. Nera tilted her head and spotted a pair of pale marble miryhls, telling her even from this distance that she was looking at Gharrik’s flurry. He and Vish were on sentry duty this morning, prepared as always to defend the Skylark from attack in the not always friendly Dragonlands.

Not that there was a lot a flock of miryhls could do should a pack of dragons attack, but that wouldn’t stop them trying. Besides, as spacious as the Skylark was for a skyship, its hull made a cramped and irritable eyrie for a hundred-odd eagles when packed in all at once. Far better to keep both miryhls and Riders busy by having half of them out on patrol at any given time.

Nera watched Gharrik’s twenty-five strong flurry fan out in formation before the Skylark, knowing that Vish’s Riders would be mirroring them behind, and thought they made an impressive sight. Humans and miryhls might be tiny compared to the might of dragons, but they still knew how to put on a show.

Land ho! The cry drifted down, passing from Riders to skysailors and across the upper deck.

The lieutenants straightened up, but even on tiptoe Nera could only see the same haze that had been teasing her all morning.

Anything? she asked, since Anhardyne was a good foot taller.

Nothing. Her friend shook her head and rested back on the rail. When Nera bounced lightly on her toes, Anhardyne laughed. Settle down, Half-Pint, we’ll see it eventually.

Nera wrinkled her nose and tapped her fingers on the rail. It wasn’t so much impatience that was making her jittery, more the sense of the unknown. I wish we knew what to expect.

Part of her was excited about what lay before them. She’d never seen a desert before. The human Overworld didn’t have any, since their own had long been covered by the Curse. She’d read about them in books and heard stories from the dragons aboard, but the landscape sounded so strange and alien that she struggled to imagine what such a place would look like. Now she would finally know.

The rest of her was nervous because, of all the Clans the humans had encountered on their diplomatic trip through the Dragonlands so far, Sunlord was the one they’d been most warned against approaching. Fiery, capricious, territorial and powerful, Sunlord was not a Clan to be trespassed on. Especially by humans. Yet here they were, about to sail right into the heart of those dragons’ territory.

Nera’s fingers tapped the rail again, betraying her nerves.

We’ll be all right, Ni. Captain Wellswen would never risk the ambassador.

True enough, but the captain hadn’t been the one to plot such a dangerous course. That had been down to the dragons. One dragon in particular.

Nera glanced over her shoulder at the small figure standing at the rear of the skyship. Dressed in a pearly silk robe bordered with pale gold, their white hair bound in an intricate braid, Elder Goryal Clan Starshine looked frail and harmless as they smiled at something Hornvel, the Skylark’s captain, said. Looks, in Goryal’s case, could be exceedingly deceiving.

Starshine was the smallest and most mysterious of the seven dragon Clans, but all of its members were very old and very powerful. It would be easy to underestimate Goryal, but wise folk listened when they spoke and obeyed when they gave one of their rare orders.

Which was why the delegation was now approaching the edge of Clan Sunlord territory, despite the unease that rippled through the humans on deck and the scowl that had taken up permanent residence on Wellswen’s face.

The Rift Rider captain was on the rear deck too, arms crossed over her chest as she stood guard behind Ambassador Jesken, who was sharing a laughing conversation with Junior Archivist Reglian. The inquisitive dragon was rarely found far from Goryal’s side, though his solid dark form was the complete opposite of the pale and diminutive Starshine elder. Also keeping them company were Korija, Elder Thunderwing, and Leasang, Elder Cloudflight, another two dragons rarely found outside of each other’s company these days.

Hey, Ni, look. Anhardyne nudged her. Our first view of the desert.

Nera turned eagerly and her surge of excitement immediately fizzled. It’s a rock.

"It’s a desert rock. Anhardyne spread her hands as if revealing something wondrous. From the rocky desert."

Nera bumped her with a shoulder. Shut up.

Did I mention it was from the desert? Anhardyne said with mock seriousness. "The actual desert. With rocks and sand and… desert."

Nera bumped her again, harder. Stop it. Her friends had been teasing her for the last month about her curiosity over all things desert. Honestly, there were times when Anhardyne and Vish acted as though it was a crime to be interested in something new.

But it’s just so exciting! Her friend clasped her hands against her chest in mock-rapture.

Nera scowled and shoved Anhardyne against the rail. Just because you’re a jaded old hag who’s grown bored of life, no need to make fun of those of us still young enough to enjoy it.

Old hag! That brought a swift end to the teasing. I’ve got barely five years on you, you wretched Half-Pint.

Nera grinned. You don’t look it.

Sniffing, Anhardyne smoothed a hand over her fluffy golden curls. Of course I don’t.

You look ten years older at least. Nera barely ducked in time to avoid a clip around the ear. You’re ancient, Hardy. Over thirty. Everyone knows it’s all downhill from there.

Growling, Anhardyne swiped for her again and missed. You won’t ever make it to thirty if I get my hands on you. There wasn’t anything the least bit ancient about Anhardyne. In fact the woman was a towering beauty, and well she knew it. However, it wasn’t often that Nera had a chance to ruffle her composure, so she made the most of it while she could.

Leaving me forever young, Nera laughed, ducking another grab and dancing away between ropes and skysailors. Unlike you. There’s no hope left for you now. While Nera might not be as tall or as beautiful as Anhardyne, she had inherited her mother’s clear skin and small features, making her look younger than she truly was. Anhardyne really did look ten years older, but only because Nera still looked like a teenager.

Laughing off a fresh round of insults, Nera used another of her gifts from her mother – the light-footed ability to dance – and skipped around a rope chest in the centre of the deck. Distracted by keeping an eye on Anhardyne, she didn’t see the Rider coming the other way until they collided.

Lieutenant! The woman, who Nera vaguely recognised, managed to grab her before she landed on her arse. I’m so sorry, are you all right?

Ha! Anhardyne pounced and seized Nera’s shoulder while she was still off-balance. She might be now, but that won’t last long.

The Rider gave them a funny look, although it wasn’t unusual for Anhardyne to be caught behaving in a manner that was less than dignified. Her flurry was, after all, currently engaged in a prank war with Vish’s Riders. However, it was less common for Nera to be caught up in their silliness. When she realised she was the one the Rider was staring at askance, she straightened her jacket and smoothed her ruffled hair.

May we help you, Rider? she asked, trying to get the woman to stop gawking. Nera was almost certain she one of Anhardyne’s flurry, but couldn’t remember exactly what her name was – Nahari or Jenarri, something like that.

Are you all finally ready for me, Fhenari?

Oh, well, close enough. Nera rubbed her nose.

Rider Fhenari glanced between them uncertainly. Um, almost, lieutenant. But I, er, well…

Spit it out, Fhen, Anhardyne encouraged, loosening her grip on Nera’s shoulder and resting her elbow there instead. It’s almost time for us to get in the air, so if you’ve got something to say, do it now. Don’t mind the lieutenant, she’ll keep any sordid secrets. Anhardyne patted Nera on the head. Nera slapped her away.

The other woman blushed bright red, dropping her eyes to the floor and scratching at her neck. Oh, well, umm…

Nera winced as Fhenari’s nails raked over rash-roughened skin. Anhardyne must have noticed it too because she reached out and gently slid her fingers beneath the Rider’s chin, tipping her face up and to the side.

The rash extended from behind Fhenari’s left ear, all the way down her neck where it disappeared beneath her shirt. Reddened by the recent scratching, it was scabbed and raw, livid against her pale skin. It looked painful. Nera hissed in sympathy.

Need some salve, Fhen? Anhardyne asked, tipping the Rider’s head in the opposite direction and revealing more of the rash peeping above her collar. Tugging on the material, Anhardyne scowled at the sight of yet more disappearing below. Heirayk’s fiery balls, Fhen, why didn’t you say something?

It doesn’t hurt, the Rider protested, scratching her wrist.

Anhardyne grabbed Fhenari’s hand and shoved up her sleeve. The rash was cracked and angry as it spread from her wrist all the way up past her elbow. Anhardyne checked her other arm and found more of the same.

Is there anywhere you’re not scratching? she asked grimly.

The Rider folded her arms across her belly and shook her head. It’s not bad, I promise. It itches occasionally, but it doesn’t hurt or – or bleed much. I-I’m used to it.

You need to see Healer Litha, Anhardyne commanded, all playfulness gone. This was the lieutenant and she would not be disobeyed. Now. You’re excused from duty. I want this taken care of today.

Oh, but – Fhenari protested.

I gave you an order, Rider.

The woman bowed her head. Yes, lieutenant. Yet despite the brisk nod of dismissal Anhardyne gave her, she didn’t leave.

Sensing that her friend was losing patience, Nera cleared her throat. Was there something else, Rider?

Fhenari flicked Nera a grateful glance. I… I wondered, lieutenant, if you had any of the special herb left, she asked in a low mumble.

Anhardyne rolled her eyes to the sky in exasperation. I think you’ve spent more than enough intimate time with dragons, Fhen, she said. Even your body is begging you to stop. Listen to it.

Before arriving in the Dragonlands, all Riders had been warned about getting too close to dragons for two important reasons. The first was the rash that poor Fhenari was covered in. Not every human experienced such a reaction, but since no one knew what caused it, no one could tell who would or wouldn’t be affected. It seemed like Fhenari was one of the unlucky ones, but it could be treated with proper care and lotions. The second reason was the risk of pregnancy, which could also be avoided through the use of special herbs. As long as one was diligent in taking them.

Oh, um, is that a no? Fhenari asked, glancing shyly at her lieutenant and scratching her wrist again.

Anhardyne huffed. No, Fhenari, I do not have any of the special herb left. I haven’t needed any since Teirenlai, and I gave up the last of my supply when we were staying with the Tempestfurys.

Nera raised her eyebrows. While she’d known Anhardyne and Vish were loyal to each other, rumour said they weren’t adverse to welcoming others into their bed. They certainly both flirted wildly and widely enough to give that impression. To hear that Anhardyne hadn’t used the herb since their first stop in the Dragonlands seven months ago – before she and Vish had even become a couple – was rather unexpected.

Anhardyne sent Nera a wry look. How about you, Ni? Got any herbs going spare?

Nera shook her head, still stunned by Anhardyne’s revelation. She hadn’t touched the herb herself, having had no use for it. She’d had offers, but none she’d felt remotely inclined to accept. All her female Riders had been directed towards Captain Wellswen and the ambassador for further advice.

Oh. Fhenari’s shoulders slumped. Right.

Go see Healer Litha, Anhardyne ordered, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Get that rash seen to and perhaps she’ll have some more herb she can give you. If not, we’re stopping in fresh territory soon. I’m sure we’ll be able to find something for you there.

Yes, lieutenant. Fhenari finally left, scratching her neck as she went.

Nera watched the woman disappear down the nearest hatch and bit her lip with worry. She wondered if any of her own Riders had been experiencing similar problems and just hadn’t bothered to come to her. Had she been failing her flurry with her wider disinterest? Perhaps it was time she sourced her own herbs, if only to have them on hand should her Riders need any.

I would have expected better from Reglian, Anhardyne growled.

Nera frowned, confused. Reglian?

You’d think a dragon as clever as him would have the decency to take better care of his lovers. Anhardyne shook her head at the rear deck, where the young Thunderwing in question was listening intently to something Ambassador Jesken was saying.

"Reglian?" Nera said again, incredulously this time.

Picking up on her disbelief, it was Anhardyne’s turn to frown. Who else can it be? Some of that rash looks old enough to have been left over from one of our earlier stops, especially the way Fhen was scratching it, but if she’s looking for more of the herb she must still be sleeping with her dragon partner.

Nera blinked, having not even considered that. But Reglian? she said again, because it seemed so unlikely. She wasn’t even sure why particularly, since Reglian could be almost as bad a flirt as Anhardyne when the mood was on him. However, for most of their journey he’d been too busy asking questions of everyone he came across to waste time flirting. Nor did shy Fhenari seem like the curious Thunderwing’s type.

Yes, Reglian, Anhardyne huffed. Who else?

Nera opened her mouth and paused. Of the ten dragons on board, four were female, so Fhenari wouldn’t have needed anti-pregnancy herbs with them. Then there were Mastekh and Estenarven, but although Estenarven was another incorrigible flirt, he was also deeply devoted to his lover Mastekh, who showed no interest in anyone of any species who wasn’t Estenarven. Which ruled both of them out. Elder Blazeborn was an unlikely choice since he was far too protective to ever be so careless, while Elder Rainstorm spent most of his time shut up in his cabin, plotting and sneering at any who came within reach. There was also Elder Goryal, but Nera couldn’t quite connect the idea of the all-powerful, ancient elder with sex. It just seemed too ordinary and everyday a thing for them, but if they did take partners, she doubted they would be so uncaring as to leave any lover in such a state.

Which left Reglian.

Huh. Anhardyne was right. Nera had expected better of him too. It just went to show that even after seven months in their company, she didn’t know the dragons anywhere near as well as she’d thought.

Land ho!

The cry came from the rear deck in the booming voice of Korija, Elder Thunderwing, making the air around them shudder. Distracted from dark thoughts, Nera and Anhardyne returned to the prow as the hazy horizon solidified into a wall of red stone, weathered and cracked.

The ship’s bell rang out and the Skylark’s deck came alive with scurrying sailors. Nera pressed against the rail, keeping out of the way as the ship lifted higher.

The view expanded into a dusty red, empty world that yawned before them, broken only by snaking canyons filled to the brim with white fluffy clouds.

Welcome to the desert, Anhardyne murmured, and Nera grinned with anticipation.

A bang startled them both as Elder Blazeborn stumbled out of the nearest hatch. Ever since he’d passed through the Curse, with Nera, Estenarven and Vish, the elder had spent most of his time in his cabin, struggling to recover from the type of cold no Sunlord dragon should ever experience.

Seeing him now was a shock. His usually gleaming bronze skin looked tarnished and dull, his robe hung askew and his face was gaunt. His golden eyes, once so fiercely bright with power, were dim and foggy. His breathing sounded laboured as he staggered away from the hatch, tripping over ropes and colliding with skysailors he didn’t seem to notice were there.

"Akasshee," he breathed, lurching towards the lieutenants. Anhardyne stepped quickly aside and he slumped against the rail, eyes fixed on the horizon.

Elder? Nera said, her hand hanging hesitantly above his shoulder. He’d never been a dragon who invited casual contact. Yet after everything they’d been through, both above and below the Curse, Nera dared to rest her hand on him.

He was cold.

Khennik?

He didn’t respond, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight before him. All he cared about was the desert.

"Akasshee," he repeated, and started scrabbling at his waist.

Nera jerked back as he pulled the tie loose and fought his way free from his robe. Normally she would have looked away, embarrassed by his nakedness, but one glimpse left her appalled.

He was so thin. Not only could she count his ribs, the bones of his spine looked more akin to the ridge he bore in dragon form. His muscles were wasted and his skin hung loosely on his frame. She’d known the Curse had affected him badly, but this was awful.

"Akasshee," he said again, body shaking as he struggled to hold himself upright. This time when he fell against the prow rail, he tipped over it.

Khennik! Nera lunged to catch him.

Too late. He was already falling.

Reglian! someone roared, and she flinched as a dark blur rushed past her.

A loud boom shook the sky and Nera hung over the rail, hands gripping the wood hard enough to make her bones creak as she watched the frail figure of Khennik tumble wildly downwards.

The second figure fell much faster, waiting only long enough to clear the Skylark’s hull before vanishing in a punch of dark grey magic. A large, powerful dragon emerged: Estenarven kin Boulder Clan Stoneheart.

A second dragon swept out from beneath the ship, enormous and black, dusted with a hint of gold: Reglian kin Thunderwing Clan Skystorm.

Estenarven reached Khennik first, snatching him in a bulky fist and surging back into the sky.

What are they doing? Anhardyne asked, and Nera could only shake her head as the two dragons raced as fast as they could up, up, up, higher and higher, clearing the Skylark and pushing even further on.

Fire blazed, filling the sky with a boom that could have put a Thunderwing to shame.

Estenarven and Reglian were buffeted aside like leaves as Elder Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord emerged in his boldest, brightest form.

Nera’s breath caught at his magnificence. Sunlight clung to him, stroking lovingly over his bronze scales, picking out his golden highlights, winking on claws and spine tips. For a moment he ruled the sky: fiery, flaming, unstoppable.

Then his fire snuffed out, his wings faltered and he fell.

Reglian and Estenarven were already waiting to catch him. With a bronze wing draped across each of their necks, the two great dragons supported the limp third between them as they drifted over the red dust of the desert edge and slowly glided into land.

They had brought Khennik kin Blazeborn Clan Sunlord home at last. Only time would tell whether he healed or not.

Lieutenants, Captain Wellswen spoke from just behind Nera, making her jump, to wing. Just because we’ve brought their elder back, doesn’t mean we’re welcome around here. Get your Riders in the sky and keep your eyes open. We’re over unfriendly lands now.

Aye, captain. Nera saluted with Anhardyne and ran for the nearest hatch. Her excitement at finally seeing the desert had already faded. Khennik’s failed flight was a timely reminder of the troubles that lay ahead. They were entering Sunlord territory, where even the sky was hot enough to burn. It would take a miracle to bring them through this unscathed. That or a fabled dragon hoard of luck.

Clambering down into the eyries, Nera pulled on a flying hat to keep the sun out of her eyes, and nodded to her sergeant to call their Riders. Luck, miracles or not, it hardly mattered now. They were Rift Riders of the Overworld; they had work to do.

Nera found her miryhl and ran a hand across Teka’s plush brown feathers. Smiling at her partner, she swung into the saddle. Let’s go.

Two

The Cold Inside

WE WILL GO on ahead. Catch up when you can. Elder Goryal stood between Estenarven and Reglian, all three of them staring down at Khennik. The Blazeborn looked broken, wretched and diminished. Estenarven hated it.

Do we carry him? Reglian asked, and even in his smaller human form his voice rumbled like far-off thunder. In his secondary shape, perhaps?

I could change him. Goryal wrinkled their nose thoughtfully. It would be easier and quicker, certainly, but he needs to soak up as much sun as possible. I believe that is the only way to cure the cold and this form is the best for that.

As the pair of them continued talking about sand and rocks and sun and heat, Estenarven wished it would be that easy. However, for all their collective wisdom, neither Goryal nor Reglian had passed through the Curse. Estenarven had, and although he might not be a Sunlord or particularly vulnerable to the cold, he could still feel the ice of that journey deep inside his bones. In a place no sunlight or heat could reach. They might have defied the Curse by daring to pass through the thick Cloud Sea, but they had not defeated it. He’d wanted to ask Nera and Vish if they still felt it too, but so much of his time had been taken up with caring for his elder that he hadn’t had the chance. Perhaps he didn’t really need to ask. The Curse had marked them all, it was just most obvious in poor Khennik.

Take your time, Goryal said, patting both Reglian and Estenarven on the shoulder. I will keep my mind open to you. If you need me, call and I will come.

Reglian said all the correct and polite things, while Estenarven raised his head, shivering as the shadow of the Skylark passed overhead. Faces crowded the rail, some taking the chance to gawp at the great Elder Blazeborn brought so low, others filled with worry. Despite the distance, he easily picked out Mastekh and knew his lover would be dripping with anxiety.

Estenarven only hoped he had the sense to stay put. The desert sun that might be the best medicine for Khennik would be a disaster for a soggy Rainstorm.

Don’t worry, Estenarven. I will take care of him for you. Elder Goryal smiled and rested a hand on his arm, their rainbow eyes bright.

Thank you. Mastekh might not be pleased to have the Starshine elder watching over him, but the prospect soothed Estenarven’s mind. With Goryal on watch, he was free to focus on Khennik and what they were going to do with him.

Take care, both of you, Goryal said, striding away, glowing pale and pristine in the barren landscape. They caught up to the Skylark’s shadow and vanished.

A quick glance upwards assured Estenarven that the Starshine was back aboard the skyship, so he turned to stare at Khennik, unable to watch the rest of their friends sail slowly out of sight.

Well, Pebble, Reglian rumbled. Looks like it’s just you and me.

And a great broken dragon who barely seemed to be breathing as he sprawled inelegantly in the dirt. Estenarven could do something about that. He headed for the nearest leg, grabbed a claw and heaved the limb around to lie straight.

I suppose it beats standing here gawping. Reglian sighed, and wandered over to help. I’d still rather have a big hat, something cool to drink and a nice book to read. Shame Khennik didn’t leave us time to pack.

Estenarven grunted, partly in reply and partly out of effort as he ducked beneath Khennik’s wing and extended it to its fullest span. Not only would it soak up more sun, it would also provide shelter for the pair of non-Sunlords once the day grew too warm.

A prickle of magic danced across his skin and something heavy hit the dirt nearby. A booming curse followed, along with the rare sound of a Thunderwing falling over.

Crawling out from beneath a shining wing, Estenarven blinked in astonishment. A broad grin spread across his face. "Looks like