Flight to Dragon Isle Read Online Free

void.
    Up …
    And up …
    And up …
    Talonstrike took Quenelda and Root higher than they had ever flown before, up to where they could see the horizon of the One Earth curving away below. The air was freezing, and the snow-covered highlands, lochs and islands below looked like an exquisitely rendered map in white, russet and heather-purple. As they climbed ever higher, the vivid icy blue about them slowly grew darker. Soon stars appeared, and the heavens spun with them. The battle-dragon glided soundlessly. Frost cracked on her wings.
    ‘Right lads,’ Tangnost bellowed into the thin silence. ‘Drop Dead!’ And then the dragon raised and folded her outstretched wings to her sides and they plummeted down.
    Down …
    And down …
    And down …
    And as the dragon’s wings levelled out, to her deep embarrassment, Quenelda was heartily sick.
    ‘Dragonsdome to Tempest Talonstrike. You are cleared to land on pad one. Wind light and easterly. Approach vector clear …’
    ‘Locked on and closing,’ the navigator responded.
    As the battledragon swung around the Black Isle and slowed on her final approach to Dragonsdome, Tangnost came for them both where they sat frozen and shaking, blood drumming through their heads, fingers numb, teeth chattering. He helped them with their buckles.
    ‘Come on.’ He grinned as they both stood on wobbly legs and followed him slowly up to the withers of the great beast.
    ‘My lady,’ the pilot said, unbuckling his harness and then standing to one side, ‘would you care to pilot us in?’ He gestured to the elaborately sculpted pilot’s chair, the arms inset with a sophisticated array of battle runes and marks.
    Quenelda stared. ‘Me? Truly?’ And then she realized that this was Tangnost’s idea, a Yule gift from the heart. She turned and flung her arms about him.
    The corners of his mouth kicked up in acknowledgement. ‘You earned it for what you did in the Cauldron. Most final year cadets on Dragon Isle couldn’t have done as well.’
    As Quenelda lowered herself into the chair, the navigator stood up, lifting the fearsome visor of his dragon helmet. ‘Root Barkley,’ he said solemnly, ‘would you like to navigate?’
    ‘Me?’ Root’s head spun. First he was given a dragon of his own and now this . He stepped into the huge navigator’s chair with its baffling set of instruments. The world changed as the Dragon Lord placed his helmet on the gnome boy’s head. The helmet was heavy, and then the visor’s display filled his vision with scrolling graphs and grids and bright runes that flickered swiftly and then were gone.
    Heart thumping, the cold forgotten, Quenelda held the reins lightly. She knew that this great battledragon could land without her help, but she was the one in the pilot’s seat! She was the one flying a fully operational and crewed Imperial Black towards Dragonsdome’s great keep.
    ‘You are cleared for landing …’ The voice rang in Root’s ears. ‘Vector approach two zero five …’
    The Earl’s dragonpad was anchored halfway up the keep. Red landing lights flickered on and off. The blast of a horn reverberated across the dragonpads and gantries as the deck crew stood by. Tempest Talonstrike’s rear claws were splayed, seeking contact with the decking as the mare raised her wings and dropped the final twenty strides. And then they were home – to a collective sigh of relief!

C HAPTER F OUR
The Razorback Brood
    The knifing wind blowing in from the sea was sharp with salt and the promise of yet more snow. Wrapped in a heavy cloak and warmed by the Dark Magic that coursed through his veins, the Grand Master, the Lord Hugo Mandrake, stood on the clifftops of Roarkinch and watched the sea break on the rocks below. Here, on this desolate storm-lashed island north of the mainland, lay the true centre of his power. Following his failed attempt to kill the Earl Rufus, the Grand Master was here in the north, supposedly raising two regiments of Bonecrackers