“Moonraker,” Almere called, “Down, boy! Fly down!”
The red dragon, lying broken on the floor of the canyon, craned his neck to stare with blurry eyes at the descending beast and rider. He thought about tragedy and great literature as his tail brushed the still body of his rider.
“My words fly up; my thoughts remain below.” Half knowing what the words meant but sick to the huge heart of himself at the blood that streamed across the rocks here in the valley, and the import of the tragedy, the little dragon croaked what once he"d heard from his father, what he now repeated. “My thoughts remain below.”
He had failed. His mission was to fly with the boy across the many valleys of the King"s country and find the battle. He"d known what he must do, but he"d gone down in mid-flight, the boy and
