"Screech!"
Meleys circled overhead, her slit pupils fixed on the Bronze Dragon, with no intention of attacking.
Aemon took a careful look and suddenly understood.
The saddle on the dragon's back was empty. Aunt Rhaenys was not riding her.
The commotion from the two dragons' fight had likely alerted Meleys, known as the Red Queen.
"It's all right, Vermithor."
Aemon patted the dragon's back, signaling the great beast not to act rashly.
He knew exactly how Vermithor had earned the title Bronze Fury.
It would fly into a rage for no reason, going berserk without warning.
Arrogant and overbearing by nature, with an utterly vile temper.
His great-grandfather had been such a benevolent and wise king, yet his bonded dragon was so violent.
Based on the unreliable theory that humans and dragons had complementary temperaments,
Aemon reached a conclusion. "Great-grandfather must have been a wild man at heart, and very good at restraining himself."
Vermithor's slit pupils shifted back as it glanced at its pensive rider, then calmly descended to the ground.
Since the other dragon's temperament suited its tastes, it could not be bothered to lower itself to its level.
Boom!
Vermithor crashed down, landing not far from Seasmoke.
As the dust cleared, it revealed a miserable rider-and-dragon pair.
"No! Seasmoke!"
Laenor's face was blackened with soot. He rolled from the Dragon Saddle, threw himself onto the dragon, and cried out in alarm.
He had merely been scorched by dragonfire and suffered a few scrapes in the fall.
Seasmoke, by comparison, was a horrific sight.
The entire dragon lay limp amid the ruins. Most of the pale silver scales on its chest had shattered, and scalding dragon blood trickled freely.
The right wing was the worst of it.
Vermithor's savage bite had broken the entire shoulder blade. Several holes