For Promise Yet Unbroken Page 6

  Jeremey turned back to Colonel Brocius and found that he was already watching him.

  "Let's go," Brocius said firmly, setting off swiftly down the street and making Jeremey have to run to catch up with him. "No time to waste. Can't let those bastards get entrenched. Hurry up, boy!" Colonel Brocius increased his pace again, and Jeremey gave up trying to walk altogether, settling into a quick jog instead.

  In almost no time at all, they reached the stables, and Colonel Brocius finally slowed down—but only because the stable door was in his way. He waited long enough for Jeremey to get the door open before promptly striding through, leaving Jeremey to run to keep up with him. Most of the dragons were still sleeping, including Promise, but he roused easily enough when Jeremey softly called his name.

  "Promise, huh?" Colonel Brocius commented as Promise rose and stretched. "A fine animal." He watched keenly as Jeremey readied Promise and got his saddle on him. The scrutiny was unnerving at first until he noticed Promise staring just as fixedly back, and then it took all his effort not to laugh at the sight they presented.

  Fortunately, Jack arrived just as Jeremey was tightening down the last strap. He glanced briefly over Jeremey's work and nodded curtly. "Wait with Putere in the yard," he ordered, turning sharply and heading for the barracks.

  Jeremey traded a brief glance with Promise, then had to hurry to catch up to Colonel Brocius, who was already to the stable doors. Promise followed them both at a more leisurely pace, and a few moments later they all joined Putere, Jack's green-brown dragon, out in the yard. Putere ignored Colonel Brocius and Jeremey, instead meeting Promise in the middle of the yard and emitting a series of chirps and low whistles, which Promise answered in kind.

  It was fascinating to listen to, though he wondered what they were saying. The sounds dragons made were far more varied than any other animal Jeremey could think of; he wished he knew why. He vaguely remembered teacher talking about animals sharing information about food locations, but Promise and Putere didn't look like they were discussing dinner. He wished teacher had spent more time teaching them about dragons, but they'd learned very little about them in school. Jeremey supposed teacher figured they already knew everything they really needed to know and only the riders needed to know more.

  Not that they knew a whole lot more, as Jeremey had discovered.

  "Fascinating creatures." Colonel Brocius was watching the dragons as well. "Never seen anything quite like that in all my travels. However, did you people tame them?"

  "Um." Jeremey's brow furrowed. "Well, the story goes that one of the original colonists, Daniel Sullivan, went out into the wild to find something to help us after the original sickness and first meetings with the rachya and stuff, and he found the dragons. They rounded up a few more riders, and the riders and their successors have been protecting us ever since."

  Colonel Brocius frowned. "But how do you control them?" he asked.

  Control? "Mostly with my knees," Jeremey said slowly, "but they also respond to words and hand signals…"

  Colonel Brocius's frown didn't budge. "They are carnivores, correct? How do you keep them from attacking you?"

  Jeremey stiffened in outrage. "Promise wouldn't hurt me!" The dragon in question looked over at the sound of his name, then snorted and walked over to coil around Jeremey protectively. "See?" Jeremey pointed out sulkily.

  "Fascinating…" Colonel Brocius's brows rose and he regarded Promise thoughtfully for a moment. "I wonder if it sees you as some sort of infant dragon. Might explain the protective instinct." He frowned lightly. "But that would not account for why they obey you. An interesting puzzle."

  "He's my friend," Jeremey said, a little more harshly than he intended, feeling a bit stung about the infant-dragon comparison. "He helps me 'cause we're friends."

  A slight smile flitted across Colonel Brocius's face, the smug kind that had inspired Jeremey to some of his worst youthful pranks. "Friendship is a concept that applies in strength only to sentient species, not animals," he said, and the patronization Jeremey could hear in his voice set his teeth on edge.

  Jeremey drew in a breath, angry retort poised behind clenched teeth, only to swallow it down as riders began spilling out of the barracks, Jack bringing up the rear and snapping orders.

  "Dragons saddled for two! Full weaponry! Colonel!" Jack's dark gaze shifted in their direction. "Where are your people?"

  "On their way, Sheriff," Colonel Brocius replied calmly, apparently unperturbed by the scowl focused upon him.

  Jack muttered something Jeremey didn't hear and then that too-sharp gaze was directed at him. "Jasper! Weapons!"

  Promise snorted and crouched down so that Jeremey could swing up and shift the weaponry that was attached to the dragon's saddle to himself. Most of the riders kept their gear together by their bunks, with extras in the big weapons locker. Jeremey, though, had long preferred to keep his with Promise; what safer place could there be?

  Almost as soon as he had the last one—his shock-lasso—fastened, someone swung up into the saddle behind him. He started, twisting around and frowning to see Colonel Brocius. "What are you—?"

  But Brocius wasn't looking at him. Rather, he was staring fixedly at something down the street. Following his gaze, Jeremey saw a half dozen people, some in Galactic Federation uniforms and others in more casual clothing, marching swiftly toward them. The one Colonel Brocius had referred to as "Major" was there, but Harry wasn't. Jeremey quashed his disappointment, knowing there was no reason for it. It wasn't like Harry could walk on that leg anyway.

  "All right, people," Colonel Brocius bellowed once the group had come to a halt in the yard. "We're going after that Vek ship. Hopefully we can catch the vipers before they can dig in. Sheriff Sullivan has offered the help of these people and their animals—that gives us an advantage the Vek don't know about. Let's use it!" His gaze swept once more over his people, then he turned toward Jack and nodded. "Sheriff."

  Jack rolled his eyes. "You want weapons, follow me. Already got 'em, pick a dragon and mount up." He turned sharply on his heel and stalked back inside, followed a moment later by three of the men from the Galactic Federation. The rest approached whichever dragons had been saddled the quickest—somewhat warily, Jeremey observed with a feeling of mild superiority. The riders didn't look all that much more impressed than Jeremey, though they wouldn't disobey Jack. Jeremey almost wished one of the dragons would snap or growl, but none of them were as bad-tempered as Charlie's Zorevan. Charlie rarely managed to go anywhere without Zorevan trying to bite someone, or hitting them with his spiked tail.

  He wondered what Charlie would make of this mess. The Charlie Colcord he remembered wasn't easily rattled, but this was a far cry from facing down a lycodo pack, or an angry caraca, or Mayor Burke after Jeremey had snitched some of her pies.

  They'd been very good pies too.

  "All right," Jack bellowed, and Jeremey startled, not having seen him return. "We're going up against an enemy that's armed, intelligent, and extremely dangerous. No heroics. Those who aren't going are on watch duty. We don't know how far the enemy's gotten or if the settlement is in danger. See anything you don't recognize, shoot it. Understood?"

  There were nods and murmured acknowledgements all around, and Jeremey was relieved to see that he was not the only one subtly rechecking his weapons.

  "Sheriff," Ben called, frowning, "What're we looking for, exactly?"

  Jack glanced at him, then his gaze swiveled towards Jeremey. Or rather, at Colonel Brocius still seated behind him.

  "They stand a hand or so over seven feet in height, animalistic features, pointed muzzles, strategic scales, and thick tails. Some of 'em have horns, almost all of them have claws." Colonel Brocius snorted. "Think big, ugly lizards with built-in weapons and a taste for torture. I'd advise not to get too close if you can help it."

  "Lizards?" Ike repeated, frowning. "They poisonous?"

  Colonel Brocius shook his head. "Don't need to be. I still don't advise
getting bitten if you can help it. Or clawed, for that matter. Never seems to heal quite right."

  Some of the other riders looked a little uneasy; Jeremey checked his weapons a third time. Still a full charge. Good. With any luck, it wouldn't run out until after he ran out of targets.

  "Oh," Jeremey said softly as something occurred to him. "You said they had weapons… Blasters?"

  Colonel Brocius snorted. "They're just as well armed as we are. Were," he corrected, grimacing, "before we crashed. Hopefully their supplies were damaged as well."

  There was something vaguely unsettling about going up against an enemy you didn't know, bearing arms you didn't know about, and when you weren't really sure if they were where you thought they were supposed to be. But then, if these Vek really were as dangerous as the Galactic Federation people seemed to think, then perhaps it was better to have one advantage—surprise—than none at all.

  "All right, let's go," Jack said, swinging up astride Putere with the major swinging up behind him. "Jasper, let's see this second ship of yours. Lead the way."

  Jeremey nudged Promise out of the yard and into the street, making their way out the gate and far enough away from town for Promise to find his favorite boulder and render himself airborne. As before, every one of the other dragons followed suit despite their usual personal preferences regarding flight. It was still a strange puzzle, but Jack and Putere were right behind them, so Jeremey forced his attention back to the matter at hand.

  They'd been, hmm, a little east of here when the ships went down. Jeremey corrected Promise's course, watching the landmarks and picturing how it had looked when the ships had gone down. The angle they'd come down at, if they'd been targets he was aiming at and had to account for motion… Yes, like that.

  He veered Promise over the hills, subtly correcting their course and angle until it was just where he wanted, dipping down into the jagged valleys and—

  "There!"

  Colonel Brocius's shout came as a surprise, both to Jeremey and to Promise, who veered up with a soft snort. Jeremey saw the wreckage a moment later, a dark smudge wedged against the lighter stone he was familiar with. Unlike the Galactic Federation ship, this one appeared to be still in one piece, but it was so twisted and torn, jagged holes gaping everywhere, that it hardly seemed possible that anyone could have survived.

  Then they were past it and Promise had to shift into a wide arc to circle back. Jeremey could see Putere descending to land, three more dragons following. Four more broke off to circle around and come in from the sides, and by the time they were in place the remaining dragons had caught up and were following Jack down.

  Barely had Putere's claws touched the earth before bright flashes appeared; Jeremey recognized the sharp sound of blaster fire.

  "They've seen us!" Colonel Brocius exclaimed in dismay. "Take us lower!"

  Jeremey gave Promise the command to drop, but the dragon ignored him. Instead, Promise's flight evened out and he shifted into a steady glide, chest muscles tightening. Then an ear-splitting keen emerged from his throat, making Jeremey cry out and clap his hands over his ears. Even muffled, he could hear the other dragons' answering cries, so much sharper and more piercing than anything he'd heard a dragon make before.

  Apparently it was nothing anyone had heard before, as there was a momentary lull in weapon fire—both theirs and the enemy's. All around them fell an eerie silence, not even the animals stirring, or perhaps he simply couldn't hear them over the ringing in his ears. He drew in a breath, intending to say something—he wasn't sure what—to break the quiet, but before he could the firefight started up again in earnest, blaster fire everywhere, along with other things Jeremey couldn't identify.

  Now, finally, Promise obeyed the command to descend, diving sharply through the air toward the source of the enemy fire. Jeremey had his blaster in hand, eyes searching out targets as the world rushed by in a blur. There.

  He got four shots off in rapid succession before Promise pulled up out of his dive and their speed took them out of range. Jeremey fully expected Promise to circle back around in another wide loop, but instead the dragon flew straight for a sharp bluff. There was only a moment for Jeremey to brace himself after realization set in, and the impact still jarred him along his entire body as Promise dug his claws into the cliff face, then braced himself and sprang back off the way they'd come.

  Behind him came a startled cry. Jeremey managed to grab hold of Colonel Brocius's shirt and steady him, releasing Brocius the moment he was sure he wouldn't fall and returned his attention to their primary task.

  This time, he managed to get five shots off, and Promise's about-face trick wasn't nearly so jarring. On the next pass, however, the Vek seemed to have realized they were being targeted from the air. Jeremey could only get off a single shot before having to cling to Promise's saddle so he wouldn't fall. It was a wild ride, up and around and sideways, then abruptly Promise let out a pained roar as one of the shots found their mark.

  Before the sound had quite died there came an answer—dozens of them, and suddenly the air was filled with furious dragons.

  Unsaddled dragons. Wild dragons.

  Promise veered slightly away, wings pumping hard as he acquired more altitude, putting them at the very limit of a blaster's range. From this distance, an accurate shot was so difficult that most didn't even try, believing it impossible.

  It wasn't, although it was quite the considerable challenge.

  Leaning as far out of his saddle as was possible without falling, Jeremey took careful aim at the tiny figures below. He didn't bother with the ones out in the open; those were easy to hit. What he wanted were the ones in concealment, hiding behind rocks and torn pieces of spaceship. The ones it would be practically impossible for the riders on the ground to take down.

  One. His aim was slightly off, so the shot only clipped his target, but the second accounted for the variance and the figure went down.

  Next? There. Shielded by an outcropping and firing with impunity. Safe, or so he must have believed. He was not counting on Jeremey.

  One by one the remaining Vek fell, most to blaster fire but several to the claws of angry wild dragons who dropped on them from above. Jeremey's blaster ran out of charge when there were only a handful left. He swore, but before he could really even begin to consider his options, another blaster was shoved in front of him.

  "Here," Colonel Brocius said gruffly.

  Surprised, Jeremey nevertheless took it, the superior handling on the newer-model Galactic Federation weapon letting him take down the remaining targets with ease. A moment later it was over, all fire ceased, and Promise spiraled down to join the other riders and their dragons on the ground. The wild dragons chose to perch on the surrounding cliffs, peering down with apparent curiosity.

  Jeremey slid off as soon as Promise's claws touched the earth, finding the wound the sapphire dragon had taken—a shallow, dark burn across his left hip. It looked painful, but at least it wasn't bleeding.

  "Jasper." Jack's voice carried just in advance of the man himself. "How is he?"

  "I don't think it's very serious," Jeremey said, turning to find Jack, Promise, and Colonel Brocius watching him. "It's not bleeding."

  Promise snorted and snaked his head back to deftly pluck Jeremey's hat off his head, holding it just out of range.

  "Hey!" Jeremey protested, reaching ineffectually for the purloined hat. "Yeah, I can see you're feeling just fine. Give that back."

  A dry chuckle momentarily distracted him; he'd forgotten they had an audience.

  "Excellent marksmanship, lad," Colonel Brocius said with a faint smile, then inclined his head toward Promise. "And equally spectacular flying. Well done, both of you. You make an excellent team."

  Jeremey blinked. Promise made a muffled sound and tilted his head to one side, giving Jeremey the opportunity to snatch his hat back.

  "Ew," he complained, crinkling his nose up. "You got dragon slobber on it."

  There was
a round of muffled laughter from the other riders and a few of the Galactic Federation people, and at least one smartass comment Jeremey couldn't quite make out. Colonel Brocius clapped him on the shoulder, though his gaze was on his people.

  "Sweep the area, see if there are any survivors. Might be one of those sneaky vipers in hiding. Major, take a small team into the wreck and see if you can figure out what brought them to this planet."

  "Sir." The woman made that funny gesture from before, holding her hands at odd angles over her chest, then pointed at two of the waiting Galactic Federation people. "Drumm, Long, you're with me." The three of them set out for the crashed spaceship while the rest fanned out and began their hunt for surviving Vek.

  Jack watched them head out and grimaced. "Better go give them some backup," he said, gesturing to the waiting riders and vaulting back up into Putere's saddle. Jeremey followed suit a bit more sedately.

  "What about them?" Colonel Brocius asked, waving a hand at the still-watching wild dragons. "Where are their riders?"

  Jack's grimace widened. "They don't have riders. They're wild."

  "Wild!" Colonel Brocius stared up at the flock of dragons circling them. "What are they doing here then? Why are they helping us?"

  "Why?" Jack echoed humorlessly, glancing—not at the wild dragons—but at Putere, and then Promise. "It isn't often that an entire settlement worth of riders goes anywhere. I suspect they were curious as to what was going on."

  "Remarkable animals," Colonel Brocius said in fascination, still looking up at the many different colors of dragon clinging to the hillsides. As he watched one of the smaller dragons—a vivid orange—took it into its head to shove the nearest dragon—a larger charcoal grey—off the edge. The bigger dragon squawked and flailed, getting its wings out just in time to avoid a confrontation with the ground. The rest of the dragons all made chittering sounds—Jeremey could have sworn they were laughing—and Jack snorted inelegantly.

  "Very funny," he muttered, then added, louder, "Let's move out, people."