Free Flight to Dragon Isle by Lucinda Hare Page B

could fight at her father’s side? The Earl saw it in her face, the tense shoulders and knotted fists at her side. He gathered his daughter closely to him. ‘I know you want to be flying with me. I was going to do this before I left in early spring, to announce before the Queen and Court …’
    Her heart thumped. ‘What?’
    The Earl pulled a heavy ring from his finger: two golden dragons entwined. As Root stepped back in amazement, the dragons slithered and separated, forming two rings. The Earl gave one to his daughter and returned the second to his finger.
    ‘Papa!’
    ‘Put it on, Goose. Go on. You have earned it.’
    Quenelda tentatively tried the big ring on her thumb. ‘It’s too big – Oh!’
    The Earl smiled as the dragon curled comfortably about his daughter’s thumb. She held it out at arm’s length, feeling its warm weight. ‘I’m heir to Dragonsdome?’
    Root was stunned, eyes shifting between the Earl and his daughter.
    Her father nodded. ‘Yes, you are. Darcy forfeited that right at the Cauldron. All the kingdoms saw for themselves what manner of man he is. He will never be a leader; no one will respect him or follow him in battle.’
    ‘You’ve told him? That’s why he is so angry?’
    ‘Yes. He has been ordered to report to Dragon Isle. He would squander Dragonsdome’s inheritance and wealth, not use it to protect the kingdoms. He must never inherit, thus I give the ring to you now so that all may know my wishes should I not return.’
    ‘Papa!’
    ‘Never fear! The hobgoblins do not know we are coming, and we will deliver a blow from which the banners will never recover. The war will be ended, and I will be home far more often to watch my daughter grow up. Ah, Goose, don’t cry. Watch for us when the moons wax.’ He turned to Root. ‘I charge you to care for her until I return, young man.’
    ‘I will, my Lord,’ Root said, acknowledging the Earl with a slight bow of his head.
    The boy was growing up fast , the Earl mused.
    ‘And Tangnost?’ Quenelda asked. ‘Does he go with you also?’
    ‘No. Dragonsdome remains in his care. I need him here to keep an eye on everything … These are dangerous times.’

C HAPTER F IFTEEN
The Battle of the Westering Isles
    The SDS Commander sat on the upper slopes of a glacier and watched as his battlegroup deployed about the Killing Caves of the Westering Isles. Below him, the massed ranks of his own FirstBorn Regiment stretched out across the slopes of the dormant volcano at the heart of the island.
    Wave after wave of cloaked Imperials took up their positions in support of the heavy cavalry and troll marines now disembarking from transports and battlegalleons anchored close off-shore. Overhead, Imperials flew inland before stopping to hover at five hundred strides.
    ‘Go! Go! Go!’
    Ropes snaked down, and barely half a bell later, three hundred strike teams – nearly ninety thousand lightly armed Bonecracker commandos – had abseiled down and swiftly taken up position at the inland entrances to underground caverns and combs that riddled the island.
    The Witching Hour approached – the time when magic was at its most potent.
    The Earl beckoned his standard bearer forward. ‘Give the signal.’
    A beam of light streaked into the sky and exploded in twin white starbursts. The whole island was bathed in cold, white, slow-burning light, as bright as twin full moons. The battle had begun.
    EEEEEareeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkkkkkeeee!
    Like the drumming roll of thunder the heavily armoured Sabretooths, Spitting Adders and Vipers stormed the outer caves, broad chests mowing down hobgoblins like living battering rams, great taloned feet crushing the soft-skinned warriors beneath them as they charged into the gloom, flaming as they went.
    Uttering their bloodcurdling clan battle cries, the Bonecrackers entered the fray.
    ‘Fire in the hole!’
    BOOM!
    The Tunnel Rats, escorted by Bonecrackers, were now deep underground, the steady rumble of their