The dragon’s head turned toward him. Lyndruss sped away until he was out of range of the teeth, claws, and tail of his battle partner. He turned to the dragon, panting.
“Not bad,” he crowed.
Insolently, Tariskatt lifted a claw. A muddy rag hung from it, the same color as the saturated dirt beneath his feet, but showing a bit of dark red the hue of Lyndruss’s tunic. Tariskatt dropped the distasteful rag and cleaned his knifelike claws fastidiously on a nearby boulder.
Lyndruss looked at his torn tunic.
The dragon had snagged loose material above the fighter’s left hip. A little deeper and Tariskatt might have rent a mortal gout of flesh from his body.
“You worm!” Lyndruss taunted, to show he wasn’t unnerved by the close call. “You deserve flaying alive. Boiling oil should be poured into your nose and down your throat, and carving beetles set between your toes-” “Silence!” ordered a familiar voice.
Lyndruss turned. “General Sharrid!”
The tall older man crossed his arms over his chest. His prematurely white hair, pulled into a braid at the back of his head, gleamed against the gray rain. “Stop that talk!”
The warrior straightened, saluted. “But-”
“Humans,” snorted the dragon, shifting restlessly. “There’s neither a good meal nor a competent rider in this camp.”
The commander’s eyes shifted from dragon to man and his mouth tightened. “Some day your hatred will come between you in the skies. One or the other will make a mistake. Then I’ll lose both of you. Our forces are shrinking too much for me to allow that. Understand me. You’re leaders. I want no more fights, no more insults. It’s lowering morale.” He stared from one to the other and back, his eyes blinking against the rain. “Answer me.”
“Yes, sir,” the warrior replied reluctantly.
“I understand human language,” rumbled the dragon. “And insect as well.”
The general ignored Tariskatt, took one step toward Lyndruss, and lowered his voice. “By the way, I hear the draconians have called in reinforcements and their best airborne team. You’ll face Zanark Kreiss and his red dragon.”
“Curor Bonebreak?” The dragon pounced on the information like choice prey. “A worthy opponent.”
Sharrid laid his hand on Lyndruss’s armored shoulder. “I dare not delay this battle for weather. Be wary. Clouds and rain can make things tricky, as you well know.”
“Thank you, sir, but I-” Tariskatt rumbled a warning.
“Uh, we-can handle them,” Lyndruss amended, the general’s eyes on him. “We have before.”
Tariskatt looked into the clouds, impatience and boredom showing in the tilt of his head and the tension in his body.
Shaking his head, the general stepped back a pace. “The good gods ride with you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Lyndruss shivered. Foreboding crawled up his back as a runnel of rain wormed its way beneath his leather armor. He expected an insult from his battle partner, but for once the bronze remained silent.
Battle approached and though neither admitted it, this was what each lived for.
*****
Tariskatt dove into a dense cloud bank. Raindrops stung Lyndruss’s skin. His eyes fought to penetrate layers of murk, but grays upon grays were all he could see.
They were suddenly clear of the low clouds, diving directly for a scout dragon and its young human rider caparisoned in the blue and gold of Takhisis’s armies. With a roar Tariskatt took the smaller beast from above, dropping his impressive weight in perfect position against the middle of the enemy dragon’s neck. Tariskatt’s huge claws reached, clamped, and held. Floundering, the scout dragon desperately pumped the air with its wings, trying to match the war dragon’s great speed as he surged upward. After a short desperate time of trying to keep up, something snapped like a large breaking branch in the scout dragon’s neck. Lyndruss’s mount let go. The Dark Queen’s dragon folded and fell, accompanied by terrified screams from its rider.
“Huh,” complained Tariskatt. “The crowd.”
They were now joined by six other pairs of fighters, the entire compliment of the Sky Squadron. The dragons formed a loose wedge behind Tariskatt and Lyndruss, staying well away from their unpredictable and inflammatory leader. Several times the group circled the soggy battlefield where foot soldiers were gathering into formations, then winged off through the rain looking for battle.