Dragon Rule - E. E. Knight [99]
It screamed as it burned and fell.
AuRon turned to race after Imfamnia, who was putting as much sky between herself and the fighting as possible.
A hard punch struck him across the back. He looked back; a griffaran had its claws dug into his middle back. It extracted a set of bloody talons and reached for the wing joint, ready to tear out his wing—
A flutter of feathers and whoosh—the griffaran’s head was off and the body, dragged by the wind, fell off behind him in a shower of blood.
AuRon, astonished, saw another griffaran drop its comrade’s head.
His brother and sister needed him below. He turned and dove, coming in behind the archers trying to score a hit on Wistala or Shadowcatch without striking Ouistrela.
It felt good to at last to loose his flame. He flapped hard with his wings, arresting his dive and creating a whirlwind of pebbles and dragonfire. The archers shielded their faces and either tried to burrow into the hard earth or fled.
The red dragon, not eager to fight, was jumping up and down and exhorting some human spearmen to close. AuRon whistled to him. When the red turned his head, AuRon struck him across the snout with his tail.
His strange griffaran savior raked the red across the throat. The red yelped and bounded away, calling on dead griffaran to save him. The griffaran fluttered down to come to the aid of the Copper, who was alternately breathing fire and kicking rocks at a line of spearmen trying to close in.
The red ran for his plump life, knocking archers left and right. If that red was representative of NiVom and Imfamnia’s backers, perhaps his brother should have stayed in the Lavadome and fought.
Shadowcatch and Ouistrela grappled and tore at each other still, swishing tails and batting wings keeping the barbarians from closing in on the little party by the easiest route. Straining saa loosed boulders that rolled and bounced down the mountainside in front of their hatchling’s old cave. Madly whipping tails sent showers of pebbles into enemy eyes.
The biggest boulder of all was green and metal-protected. The clattering bangs of light war machines firing their spear-sized projectiles sent Wistala into a rage.
Ouistrela, much torn about, saw that her support from the Grand Alliance had vanished. With a contemptuous flap of her wings, she backed away, throwing fire this way and that.
AuRon watched the Copper dragon fight. His brother continued to amaze him. The Copper was no great fighter—his limited vision, dragging limbs, and general off-balance awkwardness put him at a disadvantage against any dragon near his own size. The Copper wasn’t stupid—he had his faults, but he wasn’t stupid—he must be aware of his disadvantages in combat.
Yet he threw himself into battle regardless. And he didn’t fight with the fury of a dragon with his blood up, he didn’t throw himself upon the nearest enemy and lose all his wits in a red madness; he fought craftily and cannily, using wing and tail to both strike and defend.
The barbarians, lacking the support of the dragons they counted upon, quit the fight, running in little groups with shields held over heads and spears up to ward off aerial attack.
They needn’t have bothered. AuRon had no flame left, anyway. Long flights on short rations tended to dry the firebladder. He settled for making threatening dives to hurry them along.
AuRon turned back to what was left of the fight. Shadowcatch was in a poor way, his wings had bites and tears in them. But he still raged, smashing dead men and broken spears into splintered pulp. Wistala looked a little like a ragged porcupine, with numerous arrows and spears stuck in her. Very little blood ran from the wounds, however, so AuRon expected there would just be the painful work of extracting broken-off tips. His brother had a number of men gathered like a herd of sheep in surrender, begging for their lives with upraised palms.
“Gather all the dropped shields and weapons left lying about, put them