Dragonjacks: Book 1 - The Shepherd: A Dragons of Cadwaller Novel Read online

  Vickie Knestaut & Danny Knestaut

  The Shepherd

  Dragonjacks #1

  First published by BL Books 2021

  Copyright © 2021 by Vickie Knestaut & Danny Knestaut

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

  Cover © 2021 by Dusty Imp Designs

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Landmarks

  Chapter 1

  The horde of dragons approached, its intent unknown. Tyber glanced to the front of his own formation, looking for orders. The dragoneer sat upright in her saddle, still and formidable on her brown and white mottled alpha. His eyes slipped back to the dark gray dragon carrying his sister, Theola. She mimicked the posture of her dragoneer, staring straight ahead, both hands on the lip of the saddle.

  Tyber shifted in Rius’ saddle. Sitting still was the last thing he wanted to do now. Dragoneer Kaylar would be signaling if the approaching horde had come to escort them, lifting her arms in greeting, or calling for the flags to be unfurled.

  His eyes darted to the top limb of the bow dangling from the hook on Rius’ saddle. His gaze shot past the brilliant blue of the dragon’s neck and on to the quiver of arrows lashed to the other side of the saddle. Beyond the fletchings, the plains of Cadwaller’s western edge stretched out, dry and desolate. Rocks and heather as far as the eyes could see, until they met the blur of the mountains on the horizon’s edge.

  Tyber started to check with Ander, but then riveted his eyes ahead again. Old habits. Five days since he had graduated, and still he looked to his former proctor for direction.

  He was a hordesman now. His orders came directly from the Dragoneer.

  Dragoneer Kaylar lifted her arms, holding them upright to signal for the horde’s attention. She gestured in the hordesman’s signaling language, issuing orders.

  Her horde would assume the sweeping valley formation. Tyber and the other visiting hordesmen were ordered to fall back and protect.

  Sweeping valley formation? Dragoneer Chanson hadn’t taught that one at the academy.

  The dragons of Dragoneer Kaylar’s horde began to shift in the air. The flanks of the formation rose. The dragons in the center of the formation rose only half as high. The two lines of hordesmen swept out and away, making a V with Dragoneer Kaylar at the point. The legs of the V rose in a sweeping motion. Every dragon of Dragoneer Kaylar’s horde was now visible to the oncoming horde. It must have presented them with a confusing picture.

  Ander whistled. He ordered a diamond formation. Himself at head. Prince Winsom at rear. Tyber and Ren to flank.

  Tyber nodded his understanding. Technically, Ander wasn’t his superior anymore, but his years of experience were not to be ignored.

  With a press of his heel, Tyber guided Rius into position, abreast of Ren on the teal Maybelle. He glanced over his shoulder to the Prince, sitting tall on a purple dragon.

  Theola’s hordesmates unfurled the royal purple flag of Cadwaller along with the blue and yellow flag of Aerona. The banners snapped and fluttered in the sharp wind.

  Dragoneer Kaylar signaled, asking the approaching horde to show its colors.

  Tyber’s grip tightened on the lip of the saddle. A slick of sweat dampened his palms. His heart thundered in his ears.

  A gust of wind buffeted the dragons. Tyber glanced at Theola. Her black hair, done in two braids, lifted on the breeze and fell against her back. The golden tassels at her shoulders fluttered. She looked every bit like a mythical warrior hero from some bard’s story.

  But for all the sky, she was his sister.

  The horde ahead made no move to identify itself. It continued to approach, wings beating hard, the dragons driven across the sky by their motionless riders. Twenty of them. And twenty of Dragoneer Kaylar’s horde, plus Ander, Ren, Tyber, and if need be, Prince Winsom.

  Dragoneer Kaylar repeated her orders. Identify yourself.

  The horde pushed on, bearing down on them like a wall of storms.

  Tyber swallowed, his mouth dry. He resisted the urge to place the flat of his palm against his belly. This did not look good. His first battle had been just over a week ago against a horde of dragonjacks only half the size of this one. Still, they had managed to kill his friend and hordesmate.

  Tyber’s gaze shifted to Theola again, then back to the Dragoneer.

  Her arms swept through the air. Raise bows. Notch arrows.

  He plucked his bow from its hook and swept an arrow from the quiver. He notched it against the bowstring and held it, waiting for further orders.

  The horde ahead didn’t respond. They were close enough that they could see Dragoneer Kaylar’s horde was armed and ready to defend itself.

  “Turn away,” Tyber whispered. “Please turn away.”

  The lead rider in the approaching horde, the dragoneer, swept his arms through the air. Stick sun eye.

  Tyber’s brow furrowed. That made no sense. But neither had the commands from the first dragonjack horde he’d encountered.

  He scanned the ranks of the dragon riders as they shifted their mounts. They were not dressed in uniforms. Their sweaters were mismatched. Although they all wore leather armor, it was of differing styles. None of them wore golden, wool tassels fluttering from their shoulders.

  Dragonjacks. Thugs and thieves who’d managed to win over the loyalty of dragons. They shifted their mounts out of the V formation and into a straight line like a slash through the sky, with the dragon in the southern most position at the highest point, and the dragon in the northernmost position at the lowest point.

  Tyber’s fear scattered like ash on the breeze. Monsters like these had taken Fang’s life, leaving the young hordesman’s friends with nights full of horrific dreams. They would pay, and they would not take Tyber’s sister.

  Dragoneer Kaylar ordered the approaching horde to go to ground. As soon as her arms stilled, she followed it with an order to take aim.

  Ander whistled again. He ordered Tyber and Ren to fall back and shield Prince Winsom.

  Tyber looked back to the head of the horde. His whole body was tense, vibrating like the taut bowstrings of the hordesmen around him.

  But orders were orders. And it was his duty to protect the King’s brother.

  He returned his arrow to
its quiver, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ren signaling that they were all women. Shouldn’t he and the others be leading the charge, letting the women protect the Prince?

  If the situation weren’t so dire, Tyber would have laughed. Theola would have... Well, Ren wouldn’t like it if she caught him suggesting such a thing.

  Ander shook his head. Orders, hordesman, he signaled, then hitched a thumb back to the Prince.

  Tyber pressed his heels into Rius’ shoulder, signaling for her to slow down and let the others pull ahead. Ander matched the maneuver, forcing Ren to steer Maybelle out of formation slightly before he could slow her enough to avoid hitting Listico, Ander’s red dragon.

  Prince Winsom, on a dragon he had named No Regret, drifted back, clearing his escort. He held a bow in his left hand and the nock of an arrow in his right. A scowl clouded his face as he scanned the horde ahead.

  For all the sky, the man looked like a hordesman. Dragonjacks had cost him a brother, and he looked ready to make those in the approaching horde pay.

  Another whistle, but this time from Ren. He pointed ahead.

  Kaylar swept her arm down in a chopping motion. Arrows flew from the hordesmen, arcing through the air and dropping away just before the advancing dragonjacks. It was a warning shot. Already the women of the horde were sweeping arrows from their quivers and notching them again, taking aim.

  The dragonjacks finally plucked their bows from the gussets of their saddles and readied arrows of their own.

  Tyber’s heart thundered. Now that the battle was near, he wanted to throw his arms around Rius’ neck, drive her on fast and hard, screaming into the ranks of the dragonjacks as Rius’ jaws and firebreath stopped them from ever hurting anyone again.

  Orders, hordesman.

  Dragoneer Kaylar swept her hands through the air in a signal Tyber didn’t recognize. Immediately, her dragon dropped away, and the dragon on either side of her followed suit. The dragons at the back of the V formation, those that rode highest, swept forward and down, letting gravity pull them over the heads of the other riders.

  The maneuver looked like the mouth of a bag being cinched shut. Arrows flew up and out from the dragoneer, and arrows from her hordesmen followed. Theola, positioned halfway back in the V formation, fell to the rear with her counterpart. They swept out, away from the center, and swung back in, loosing arrows into the dragonjacks that tried to get around the horde.

  An answering volley left the dragonjacks, but it lacked the synchronicity of the Cadwaller horde. For all the sky, they looked surprised, as if they weren’t sure how to react. Bows fell from the limp hands of several riders as they slumped in their saddles.

  A dragon the color of dry, parched ground swept out from beneath the melee and teetered in the air. She let out a groan that escalated into a roar. She snapped at two arrows in her shoulder, ripping one away. Her wing folded as if her shoulder gave out, and she rolled onto her side and fell, her rider screaming the whole way down.

  Dragoneer Kaylar and her dragon Theya emerged behind the dragonjacks, charging upward. Kaylar twisted around in the saddle and loosed several more arrows.

  Tyber’s jaw dropped. How could she remain upright in the saddle like that, not holding onto anything but her bow and arrow as her dragon rose into the air almost vertically? The Aerona hordesmen followed her, rising through the center of the dragonjacks, arrows flying into the bellies of the scattering enemy dragons. Theola and her dragon, Etipoe, swept around horizontally. An arrow plucked Etipoe in the haunches, then fell away. Theola released an arrow in response. The rider she had aimed at jerked in his saddle. He fumbled his arrow and clapped his hand to the side of his head.

  “Ready yourselves!” Ander called over his shoulder.

  Dragonjacks broke away from the confusion. Several started for the Prince and his escort.

  Tyber’s stomach clenched.

  The dragonjacks drew arrows and notched them.

  Tyber took aim.

  Thank the gods above that Ren was an ace shot. Every arrow would be needed. He glanced at his friend. Ren was focused completely on his target.

  Tyber turned forward.

  Aerona dragons swept out from the melee and plunged after the challengers, throwing themselves at the brigands who would come for the kingdom’s prince.

  Tyber drew his bowstring tighter. Pain tore into his fingers and drowned out the biting numbness of the cold.

  The enemy dragon on one end turned slightly, as if she were suddenly going to take off toward the north. Another steadied her wings while the other two pulled ahead. Finally, all three of them twisted about, heading back toward the fight. The Aerona hordesmen let loose with a volley of arrows.

  Suddenly, the enemy dragons broke away from the fighting, fleeing the scene in whichever direction they could. Some bore riders slumped over their saddles. Others swept away as their riders released a parting arrow, then turned and stowed their bows to wrestle with the lip of the saddle before them.

  Tyber relaxed his bowstring.

  They had absconded.

  He searched the remaining dragons. Etipoe sailed through the air, charging after a fleeing dragon. Theola let loose with a parting shot before Dragoneer Kaylar whistled and signaled all to go to ground.

  As Tyber stowed his arrow and bow, he glanced at Ren, who looked back at him, eyes wide, jaw slack. Did you see that? he signaled.

  Tyber nodded and was about to signal back that the enemy dragons had absconded, either because the dragoneer or his alpha had died, but Ren signaled, Where did those women learn to fight like that?

  The Aerona hordesmen began to fall back into place, re-establishing a V formation as Theya swept down in a broad spiral. Several dragons had arrows stuck in them. One rider clutched a hand to her thigh just above her knee, but there were twenty dragons in the horde still, and twenty riders sitting upright.

  Below, among the stones and heather, nine dragons lay on the ground. Eleven more fled like doves from a hawk.

  Tyber looked over his shoulder. Prince Winsom studied one of the fleeing dragons, his eyes squinted, his face unreadable, his expression distant as if he had managed to be somewhere else other than the scene of the battle.

  Tyber turned his attention forward, leaned into the lip of Rius’ saddle, and sent her spiraling down after the dragoneer.

  With a flurry of wingbeats that sent the stiff branches of heather wagging, Rius landed and folded her wings neatly behind her back. As Tyber’s hands yanked at the restraints at his waist, Rius turned her head to the east, lifting it as if trying to see the mother city and the royal weyr where her alpha remained.

  “Ander!” Dragoneer Kaylar yelled. She waved a hand at them and pointed to a red dragon whose scales were edged in white. She lay mostly on her back, her forelegs held up before her. The leading edge of her crumpled wing twisted back at an impossible angle.

  “Get the guys over here! We got one trapped beneath his mount.”

  “Boys,” Ander snapped, then pointed to the red and white dragon before sliding out of Listico’s saddle.

  Tyber dropped to the ground and ran after Ander. Hordesmen were scattering about, racing away from their dragons and toward the fallen.

  “Did you see that?” Ren asked as he fell in beside Tyber. “By the eyes of the gods, man! Where did they learn to fight like that? Chanson never showed us anything like that.”

  “You’ll find they do things a little different out here,” Ander said over his shoulder. “Out on the edge of the kingdom.”

  “Yeah, it’s the Wilds out here all right,” Ren went on, “but we’re royal hordesmen. We’re supposed to be the best of the best.”

  Tyber shook his head as he recalled Etipoe, the way she twisted through the air, plunging forward, Theola drawing arrows and loosing them as if they were one, each an extension of the other. Granted, her dragon was older than Rius, who was barely old enough to serve, but still.

  “It’s the dragon queen, man. I’ll bet you
anything she taught them all that,” Ren said.

  “I wouldn’t bet against you,” Ander said as they rounded the fallen dragon and halted.

  A man lay on the ground and stared up at the sky, sobbing softly. Both of his legs were pinned beneath the dragon. Her pale throat was exposed, and she looked as if she had thrown her head back, away from her rider in disgust.

  “Ren and I will lift. Tyber, you pull him out.”

  Tyber nodded as he looked at the dragonjack. The man rolled his watery brown eyes to Tyber and stared at him.

  “You move,” Ren said to the man, “we’ll kill you. Got that?”

  “I told you to lift, not speak,” Ander admonished as he stepped up to the dragon.

  The dragonjack’s mouth moved, his jaw flexing. A deep, beefy red appeared between his teeth, then was gone. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” he asked.

  Tyber blinked. Only then did he realize that he’d expected the man to speak some other language. Not only another language, but one rife with guttural screams and groans, mad cackles and spitted obscenities.

  “For all the sky,” the man said, wagging his head slowly, “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I don’t know what happened. But I saw her wing fold up like it was... paper.”

  “Ready, Tyber?” Ander called.

  Dragoneer Kaylar called on several more hordesmen to help free the man.

  “Count of three!” Ander snapped.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” Tyber said, his voice quiet, softened by something he hadn’t been prepared for.

  He crouched and started to thread his hands beneath the man’s shoulders.

  “Paper!” the man spat, and then his face clenched and grew red. “I made toy dragons when I was a kid. Sticks and scraps of cloth. And that’s what she looked like. Like her wing was made of sticks and cloth.”

  “Three!” Ander concluded.

  As Ren groaned, Tyber clutched the man and shuffled backwards with his heels.

  Several other hordesmen rushed in and shoved at the dragon’s shoulders. The dragonjack screamed, his teeth bared and pink with blood.

  Tyber fell backwards, landing hard on his butt.