Chapter 12 - The Iron Net
The iron chain-shot whirled through the sky like a spinning pair of scythes. The mother dragon banked sharply to the left, but she was too large and too exhausted to evade completely. The chain clipped the edge of her flight membrane, shredding through the thin flesh and throwing her into a violent tailspin.
Lyra screamed, clutching the crest-spines of the dragon’s neck as the world spun into a dizzying vortex of gray cloud and black earth. Bran clamped his strong arm around Lyra’s waist, digging his hunting knife between two scales to anchor them both against the g-force of the plummet.
Zephyr, tucked safely inside Lyra’s tunic, spat a desperate spray of white spark into the wind.
With a deafening crash, the dragon slammed through the skeletal canopy of the Petrified Forest at the edge of the caldera. Ancient stone-wood trees shattered into dust, slowing their descent before the beast slid hundreds of yards across a field of volcanic pumice, carving a deep trench into the earth.
Dazed and covered in soot, Lyra scrambled off the dragon’s back. The great beast lay breathing heavily, her uninjured wing covering the child protectively.
Above the tree line, the colossal shadow of the royal siege-barge drifted into view, its giant canvas gasbags creaking in the crosswinds. Steel grappling hooks thumped into the soil around them, thrown by soldiers standing along the barge’s perimeter catwalks.
“Surround the perimeter!” an officer shouted through an iron speaking-horn. “Douse them with quicklime! Do not let the beast draw breath!”
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Heavy clay pots came crashing down around them, shattering on the stones and releasing dense clouds of suffocating, caustic white dust that made the dragons cough and choke. Through the haze, fifty heavy-infantry guards advanced, leveling shields and halberds.
Then, the ground beneath their feet began to boil.
