Aytin ushered three wildlings towards the waiting Faelon. Khrik, Drav, and a female by the name of Nali. Khrik, of course, had spoken in support of the dragon at the feast, and the other two had stood with him. That was why they were here, after all.

  Lancers had to be willing to die. It took a special kind of person to sign up for a role knowing that eventually it would lead to their death. Some did it for the pay and prestige, and they lived well up until the time they were called on to do their duty. Others did it for more selfless reasons, protecting friends and family and the kingdom. A few knew, absolutely knew, that they would survive, regardless of the danger they faced.

  'I wonder which my father was?' No one ever mentioned why the Bloodhorn had become a lancer. From all the stories, it was probably the last group. After all, he was one of the few to retire.

  But whether or not these three would be willing to make that sacrifice, he wasn't sure. Khrik had certainly seemed passionate during the feast, and none of them had given any sign that they felt otherwise since volunteering.

  Their expressions had been nothing but wide eyes and slack jaws when he told them Faelon wanted to meet with them. The dragon had remained aloof, in no small part due to the friction between him and Aytin. Not being able to speak the language made interaction difficult. But that same distance was also a tool. An aura of mystery, only accessible to Faelon's Companion. And now, to the three of them as well.

  They were attracting notice as they walked towards the edge of camp. A half-dozen sets of eyes followed them as they passed, and Aytin had to work hard to keep his expression neutral.

  He would much rather have still been going around the group, finding out all the different magical abilities the wildlings had.

  It was a bit of a mixed bag with most falling into some category of perception or physical enhancement. Better senses, bursts of strength, improved stamina. There was a minor healer who could deal with cuts and bruises. Khrik, it turned out, could shape the winds around him to fly nearly as fast as a huntress in a sprint.

  A few others had more unusual abilities. Sadly, none that would be exceptionally useful under the circumstances. They were things like Okoni being able to sense imperfections in materials that she touched. Powerful, but unsuited to a battle.

  He hadn't managed to account for every wildling's magic. Some of them were out on hunts or relaying messages to the tribe.

  And when he had asked Ness, her response had been cryptic. Given her age, Aytin had expected her to still be figuring out her magic. Instead, she had just smiled and told him that she would show him later.

  It had all been a distraction, though. From many things. But especially from this particular meeting. And with Faelon watching as the quartet approached, he couldn't back out.

  "Welcome."

  The dragon had nothing like Aytin's grasp of the wildling tongue, but he had learned a few simple words and phrases.

  All three of the wildlings immediately bowed low, only rising after a rumbled, "Up."

  He glanced towards his 'Companion,' who took a deep breath.

  "Dragon Faelon wanted to thank you for volunteering to help him in this battle."

  The trio glanced from him to the dragon and then to each other. Even if they were all too nervous to voice it, the question in their minds was clear. "Why us?"

  "He also..." Aytin hesitated, before pressing on. "He needed to ask you - to ask, not demand - that you do something. Something very dangerous."

  "What does Dragon Faelon need?" Khrik asked, after getting nods from his comrades.

  Instead of answering directly, Aytin picked up a long spear and a rough rope harness. "Where I am from, sometimes we must fight evil dragons. Sometimes without another dragon to help."

  He shrugged into the rope harness - just a basic criss-cross, really - being careful to not get it caught on his wings. Once snugged up, it was braced against both his shoulders and wing roots.

  "The people who fight dragons are very brave. Not only because they are fighting dragons, but because of how they do it."

  Hanging from the right side of the harness, there was a leather cup. It dangled at waist level, and Aytin stuck the butt of the spear into it, then leaned the shaft vertically against his chest. It stayed in position without any effort.

  "They fly as fast as they can, to slam a long spear into the evil dragon. But you know dragons are strong and fast. If they go slow, they don't hit. Or the dragon burns them. Or the spear doesn't go in." He stepped over and tapped Faelon's scales for emphasis.

  "But if they do not go slow, it is like closing their wings and flying into the ground."

  None of the wildlings were stupid. They could see exactly what he was suggesting.

  "Dragon Faelon needs us...?" Khrik motioned to the makeshift lance and Aytin nodded.

  "Yes. He does not need you to do this. Only asks."

  In truth, their plan could succeed without lancers. Maybe. If everything went right.

  "We may not need you for this," Aytin added. "Dragon Faelon can defeat the traitor dragon if he catches it. Or if others can catch it with pots of Dragon fire magic, that might cripple its wings. But if not... this..."

  Aytin trailed off, unable to continue. He was about to tell the wildlings that they could give him an answer later when Drav took a half step forward.

  "I would be honored to do as Dragon Faelon needs."

  Nali and Khrik were only a heartbeat behind him, both voicing their support.

  "What did they say?"

  Aytin glanced back towards Faelon. The dragon could tell that something had happened, but not exactly what.

  "They agreed," he said, feeling slightly numb.

  "That is very good."

  Before Faelon could go on to thank the wildlings, Aytin held up a hand. "Wait. I want to ask them something." To the trio, he said, "Dragon Faelon thought this would be harder for you. He thought that it would take more time. If you say you will do this, he needs to know that you will. He needs to know why you will do this?"

  Khrik cocked his head in confusion. "Because he is a Dragon."

  "But why does that mean you will do this?"

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The wildling scratched the base of his horn in thought. Like most of the tribe, his horns curled straight back, almost flush with his head.

  Finally, Khrik nodded slightly. "Dragons are the guards of all there is. They guard what comes after." He motioned upwards, to where the blinking god gates would be visible in the night sky. "How could we not help?

  "The-" Drav used a word that Aytin hadn't heard before, but sounded vaguely like "make". "They come from the Makers. Their children. The Makers put them here as their speakers."

  Nali didn't add anything, just nodded along with the other two as she looked up at Faelon.

  "And... you're okay with fighting another dragon?"

  "The Makers also made the darklings," Khrik explained. "They fought each other. Companion Cue says that we must decide good and evil for ourselves and choose which one we will help. To give everything to help one..." He made another bow towards Faelon. "There is no better way to make our decision known."

  That answered some questions that Aytin had been afraid of asking, for fear of revealing his ignorance. It was also a theological mess that he hoped the church never found out about. Much less, the inquisition.

  "What did you ask them?" Faelon asked when everyone was silent for a handful of heartbeats.

  "I'll tell you later," Aytin replied. "But, they seem willing. Go ahead."

  The dragon nodded slightly, and spoke to the new lancers. "I thank you for your courage." It was one of a few lines that he had memorized with Aytin's coaching and he delivered it in rough if recognizable wildling.

  Aytin held out the makeshift lance to Khrik as the nominal leader of the three, then shrugged out of the harness. "You will need to make more of these," he said, offering two more steel spearheads to the group. "If you need to make changes, do it. In my home, we make these differently."

  "Why make it this way, then?" the wildling asked as he accepted the gear.

  "The spear needs support. To push with all your speed. We make a spear that sits here." He tapped his shoulder. "It isn't straight. Making that takes time and things we don't have."

  Making a copy of his father's lance would have been difficult, even if he knew its every detail. Aytin had spent long hours staring at it where it was mounted to the armory wall. With the way the crosspiece slotted through the widened shaft, it would have been difficult to build without time and tools. Which was why he was glad Faelon had suggested this alternative.

  "Find me once you finish. I will show you how to use it." In this case, it was actually something that he knew how to teach. Out of either inspiration or weakness, he added, "My father trained to do this. He was a lancer." Aytin used his own word for the term.

  "Did he...?" Drav began, and Aytin shook his head.

  "He fought evil all his life, but he was never called to fight a dragon. It was darklings that killed him, and he died fighting an army of them. He was called the Bloodhorn." Aytin tapped the little jog in his horn for emphasis.

  The wildlings all bobbed their heads, wide eyed.

  "A great warrior," Khrik said. "It's no wonder you became Dragon Faelon's Companion."

  "Yes," Aytin agreed, once more feeling uncomfortable. "Now, I need to speak to Faelon, and you-"

  "Of course, Companion." All three wildlings gave them both deep bows before returning to the camp.

  "You were not happy about that," Faelon reflected once they were alone.

  Aytin sighed, then slumped down with his back against the massive awning. "No. Not really."

  "It is necessary."

  "I know."

  "If the time comes, will you be able to order them to attack?"

  Aytin rested his head in his hands and stared off into the forest. "I think so?"

  "You do not sound sure."

  "If we're all going to die otherwise, yeah. Yeah I will." He looked up and glared at the dragon. "But I know these people. Maybe not well, but I know them. How would you have felt ordering one of your crew to grab a lance and charge a dragon?"

  "A fair point. I am sorry for making you go through this." Faelon inclined his head with the words.

  "No." The single word dripped with bone deep exhaustion. "No, don't be sorry. It was my idea. But... thanks."

  They sat there for a few minutes, watching the bustle around the camp. A few wildlings were training, moving their spears in some of the simple drills that Aytin had shown them or sparring against each other. The ones with any experience fletching were busy making arrows for the new bows. And there were always camp chores to be done.

  "What did you ask them?"

  "Huh?" Aytin had been staring at nothing in particular, mind deliberately blanked. He struggled to catch back up.

  "At the end, you asked the wildlings something. What?"

  "Oh." He explained the conversation, and what he had learned about the wildling beliefs.

  Afterward, Faelon bobbed his head. "A common enough superstition. I have heard of dragons as messengers from the gods as well. It comes from having the stamina to travel between islands, bringing goods from far off lands."

  "You're okay with it? You'll be here for a long, long time, after all."

  The dragon snorted. "I will worry about that if I survive."

  "Okay. I'll talk to you about it again when this is all over."

  "Fair. And then we can discuss how to deal with shamans and matriarchs and the church." Faelon glanced over his companion's shoulder and said, "You should go. It looks as if Attalee and Ness are waiting for you."

  Sure enough, the pair of huntresses were standing in the camp, not far off. The way both of them jerked when he turned to look made it clear that their presence was in no way coincidence.

  "I suppose I should go over and see what they want." Aytin stood and stretched, once again savoring wings that didn't scream in pain with every motion. "I'll be back tonight."

  "And I will see you then." Faelon settled down, either to nap or think or just look off into the forest.

  Sure enough, the pair waved at him as he approached. "Hey Aytin!"

  "Hi Ness. Attalee." He nodded to each in turn. He was thankful that the older huntress had warmed up slightly, even if she wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as her younger counterpart.

  "You wanted to see my magic, right?"

  "Yeah, you didn't have time earlier?"

  She nodded. "I had to go on a hunt. But that's over. And Attalee here wanted to know if she could join us. Just for a short flight. Not much further than the last camp."

  "Uh, sure. That's fine." He couldn't think of what they would need to fly that far for, but he had little else to do. The wildlings didn't need any more half-remembered training and the camp seemed to be running itself.

  A thought occurred to him. "Oh, Attalee, I didn't see you before you went off on your hunt and I've asked almost everyone else. What exactly is your magic?"

  Attalee frowned slightly. "It's hard to explain."

  "Just show him," Ness said.

  "Hmm..." The senior huntress scanned around, and then very deliberately pointed to a pinecone a few steps away. "Pick that up."

  Without any reason not to, Aytin complied. It seemed normal enough. He looked a question back at the huntresses, but Attalee only pointed a finger over one shoulder. "Hide it somewhere back there. Somewhere that I can't see it."

  Doing as he was told, Aytin walked to the edge of camp. A young tree had a fork just above head level. He wedged the pinecone into it, before returning to the waiting pair.

  "Alright. What now?"

  Attalee turned. There were dozens of identical pinecones scattered on the ground nearby, but she strode unerringly towards the one he had hidden. Plucking it from its hiding place, she tossed it back to the surprised dragonette.

  "How did you do that?"

  "I marked it," she said, simply.

  "It's impossible to hide from her once she's done it," Ness piped in. "Only one thing at a time, though."

  "Ah. Useful for hunting then?"

  Attalee nodded. "And finding arrows in the brush."

  It was a talent that fit the huntress well. And one he could see being particularly useful in the battle to come.

  "Okay, are you done yet?" Ness butted in. "Are you two ready to fly?"

  They shared a look and Aytin shrugged. "Sure, I'm re-"

  Before he finished, the young huntress was already getting a running start and pumping her wings for all they were worth. She soared up, angling her way through a gap in the trees before disappearing into the sliver of sky above.

  He looked back to Attalee, who gave him a small smile and gestured upwards. "After you."