Looks like they dueled among themselves, Dragon leader thought. That explains the magic the Watchers sensed. He looked down at the crumpled dark forms and shrugged mentally. Whatever it was, it doesn’t involve us. He spoke into his communications crystal. “Echelon right and climb for altitude. We need to reach the island before dark.”
Now there were four Dire Beasts climbing the broken rock toward him. Wiz bit his lip and watched them come. He fished into his pouch and pulled out one of the fire globes. Animals were supposed to be afraid of fire. Perhaps this would frighten them off.
Lying flat on the stones, Wiz tossed the fire globe over the side. There was a satisfying “whoosh” and leap of flames. After a second, he stuck his head over the edge to see the effect.
He nearly lost his nose for his pains. Not only hadn’t the fire daunted the beast, the first one was almost to the top. Powerful jaws with two sets of fangs snapped shut so close Wiz could smell the stench of the thing’s breath. He jerked his head back and rolled away. Then he realized he had to keep the thing off the platform at all costs.
Too late. The wolf thing had gained the platform with all four feet. Hackles up and back fur stiffened into a mane, the Dire Beast advanced on him. Wiz fumbled in his pouch and came up with the second fire ball.
The globe flew straight and true to shatter at the beast’s feet. Instantly the animal was engulfed in an inferno. With a howl of agony, it threw itself from the stone platform. It made a blazing fireball all the way to the blackened sand. It struck with a “thump” and lay still.
For a moment the Dire Beasts hung back. Then one of them howled and they charged up the crumbling stone again.
In the back of his mind, Wiz realized he had just thrown away his last hope of signaling should help arrive.
Dragon Leader had just crossed the beach out over the Freshened Sea when his wingman broke in on the communications frequency.
“Smoke behind us.”
Dragon Leader twisted in his saddle. A thin black curl of smoke was rising in the distance, back over the city.
He hesitated. Should they turn south again to check it out? It was probably an accidental fire or a new volcanic vent. Their orders had been to search for magic. Certainly it was not magic, he told himself. Therefore it was none of his business.
The welfare of his troop was his business and that demanded he get them to a safe resting place as soon as possible. The other members of the flight craned their necks to see and he could feel them waiting for orders.
“Not our pigeon,” Dragon Leader said finally into the communications crystal. “Hold your course.” The rest of the troop relaxed. He felt his wingman start to say something and he braced for a challenge to the order, but the challenge never came.
They had flown north for three more wing beats when he sensed a change in the formation. He looked back and saw his wingman sliding in.
The formation had opened out, as it always did on long patrols. Now the wingman was closing in to the precise Number Two position, tucked in tight to his leader’s right, exactly as he had been taught in riding school. In spite of the long hours they had been in the air, the younger man was sitting bolt upright in his saddle and he was ostentatiously checking his weapons and equipment in exactly the manner prescribed when leaving a combat zone.
Every maneuver, every patrol, you will perform as if it were the real thing! . . . by the checklist, mister!
He felt his subordinate’s eyes boring into him and he knew every other man in the flight was watching as well. Dragon Leader had seen nearly thirty winters and suddenly he felt all of them.
“Shit!” he muttered to himself. But he sat up straighter and tightened the straps holding him to the saddle. Then he pressed his knees into his weary mount’s side and with a wave of his arm turned his squadron south again over the City of Night.