Page 90 of Dragon Blood

She glanced at the strained set of Sakunthala’s lips. “Don’t. Captain wouldn’t want you to drain your magic to conjure a wind. You may need your power later—sea goddess willing that we don’t see battle—so, just in case. That’s an order.”

Sakunthala’s lips thinned further, but her head jerked an affirmative.

Act now or prepare for later. Press upon nature or go with her flow.

Decisions, the weight of which dragged on Tundi’s shoulders. Lives were at stake and their duty was to ensure the safe passage of the vulnerable. Those that can’t fight or defend. Those that need to preserve the past for the future will go down into the earth.

But with what Tundi had learned over the last five decades with Astred, and recent events concerning the seals, she wasn’t so sure that was enough.

This is what concerned her most, as she turned her face skyward, studying the wisps of cloud and the subtle changes of the ocean’s surface.

Her pulse ticked through her chest as she turned to study the tones. Wind would come, but when?

The urge to shift pressed on her flesh and hummed through her bones, despite the uselessness of it. Tundi wasn’t a dragon shifter. She couldn’t fly, nor was she large enough to stave off any enemies of that size. Not as a lion shifter. But should they bring smaller allies, her claws and teeth would sink deep. The need to act, to protect her crew, to perform her duty to her captain. Her captain, whose duty was to protect the archipelago.

For several centuries, the Crimson Claw was Aeleftheria’s eyes and ears outside of the boundary.

Pirates, privateers, sailors, traders, and in more recent decades, ocean eco-preservationists.

She chuffed at that.

A piercing whistle ripped Tundi’s attention from the horizon up to the crow’s nest. The look out pointed in the distance at something large displacing the sea water far beyond their stern, as their departing dragonesses had, only moments before disappearing ahead.

It was larger than the Crimson Claw.

Fear gripped Tundi’s chest tight, on realizing it moved straight for them. The wind was barely enough to propel them forward, there was little chance to evade this threat. Still, she gave the signal for the crew to try. Even a few feet could mean survival over instant destruction.

“Perhaps you may use your magic, after all, Sakunthala.”

With a nod, Sakunthala braced herself on the uppermost deck, hands outstretched, eyes closed. Lips moving, forehead creased, she strained to summon the needed breeze to move the ship out of the way.

Calls and the rushing of feet over ancient wood and up through thick rigging filled the air as Tundi watched, calling adjustment orders as needed.

The water distorted its true size. Possibly a whale, though not likely in this region at this time of year. It could be an enemy dragon, whom they were on alert for, though it appeared to be singular.

A scout?

The First Mate spun the wheel as sails billowed, dragging the ship in a new direction.

Tundi forced her breath to fill her chest in a controlled manner, feeding oxygen to her brain, keeping her mind sharp, one eye on her crewmate as she struggled to coax the unpredictable forces to do her bidding.

Steady.

All the crew members not working on the sails prepared the iron cannons. They were old, but they bloody well still worked. The Captain made sure of it. Year after year, they attended tall-ship gatherings and demonstrations, usually firing blanks, but it still ensured the irons beasts were in top working order, despite their age. And the crew were skilled in their use.

Eyes glued to the submerged mass, orders flew from Tundi’s lips.

Readied, the Crimson Claw’s cannons could damage a dragon; at the very least shred his wings, preventing airborne assaults.

The mass continued toward the ship.

Not a whale.

“Prepare!”

Gun ports snapped open, muzzles ready, flares alight.

Her fingers gripped the helms’ polished wood, fear warring with caution, uncertainty slithering up her nape.

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