Chapter 1
Canadian-American Border
December 1811
Achilles was banking steeply to starboard. Gliding on his wings without beating them gave the British marines on his back a clear shot as they descended on the petit-Chevalier below them. James brought up his musket, the stock settling familiarly against his shoulder and sighted down the barrel. Whilst the corps in Europe had begun the practice of using rifles on dragonback the preference in North America had shifted to the Brown Bess carbines popular among the infantry. Dragon to dragon firing was usually over less than a hundred yards and the extra range afforded by the rifle was less preferable against the carbines superior reloading speed. The loss of accuracy was largely made up for by the practice of patching their musket balls whilst loading and prolific training. Even from several hundred yards above the French dragon looked large, despite the name petit Chevaliers rarely weighed in at under eighteen tonnes. Achilles flew hundreds of yards up in the air, the ground below a uniform white due to the covering of snow. The only features were the North American pine trees which so vast on the ground seemed like match sticks to James eyes from his current vantage point. As Achilles descended closer the French heavyweight's crew became easier to make out on it's back, they were scrambling to turn their attention towards Achilles descent having previously been engaged with keeping off a Yellow Reaper's sniping attacks on its other side. A few stray shots began to ring out towards Achilles, all semblance of a unified volley flying in the face of the panic they no doubt felt at seeing the twenty ton dragon hurtling towards them.
"Fire!" Lieutenant Carr's voice rose above the rush of the wind and James pulled the trigger along with the other thirteen marines on Achilles' back. The recoil punched James' shoulder hard and the brief pall of smoke from the volley cleared almost instantly, dispersing in the wind allowing the marines to see the result of their volley, several Frenchmen had fallen on the Chevalier's back and already their bodies were being cut loose by others of it's crew, dropping from the sky limply. James waited for the command to reload but it didn't come, instead Carr boomed out the command to fix bayonets. James swallowed, he was no coward but the command could mean only one thing, they meant to board the French dragon. The order swiftly carried out he moved one hand to his carabiners ready to detach himself and steeled himself for what was for any marine the most challenging of any potential action they might need undertake. The Chevalier no doubt realised the danger it and it's crew were in and attempted to beat up further into the air, likely to attempt to engage with Achilles at close quarters rather than present it's back as a target for boarding. Captain Way and Achilles had pre-empted this course of action though and Achilles folded his wings to cover the remaining gap between the dragons at such speed that the marines were jerked off their feet and only their carabiners kept them attached to his back. As the dragons came together Achilles snapped his wings open and used his momentum to bring his great spiked tail round, hammering it into the Chevalier's ribs above the portside wing. The heavy blow stopped it in it's tracks no doubt winding the beast and this was all the respite the marines needed.
"Board!" James had barely regained his feet but moved to unlatch his carabiner the instant Carr opened his mouth, he was already pushing off as Achilles moved his bulk as close as possible to the Chevalier to allow the marines to make the jump as easily as possible. In mid-air it was impossible for the dragon to stay alongside for more than a second but this was enough time for seven of the marines to make it onto the Chevaliers back along with a pair of Achilles' officers, a further three marines jumped late as Achilles pulled away but were able to clip themselves to the Chevalier's harness on it's side, fortunately nobody jumped so late as to miss altogether. James landed heavily on both feet falling to his side from the impact and knocking a French marine's legs from under him, all this was secondary for him though to the singular need to attach his carabiner to the Chevalier's harness and avoid falling to the ground below. It was with great relief he latched the carabiner onto the first available bit of harness and felt the opening mechanism close tight, the danger of a long fall averted he raised his head to get his bearings.
The Chevalier's captain was staring back along it's spine, some half a dozen of his men remained between him and the nearest boarders and his dragon gave a great shake at his command attempting to dislodge anyone not already latched on. The action proved more disadvantageous for his own crew as they were also knocked off their feet by the motion and all the boarders had clipped themselves on and were therefore afforded a brief moment to right themselves once the shaking stopped rather than being immediately set upon. James had landed towards the middle of the Chevalier along with the bulk of the marines, the french dragons topcrew had already been thinned out by the volley but a good dozen frenchmen had drawn swords and moved quickly to fend off the boarders. In these close quarters the brown bess carbine proved its worth again. Space was at a premium on the dragon's back and the heavy musket made a brutal club when used in such close quarters. The French officers were armed with swords but the difficulty in balancing precluded any fancy swordplay and the dragons own marine contingent were armed with full length muskets and hadn't even fixed bayonets allowing the British marines to get in amongst them and reap havoc. James rose from his crouch as a French marine edged towards him snarling, the Frenchman swung his musket like a club which James ducked, as he rose he extended his right hand and smashed his musket's stock into the frenchman's face. The force of the blow sent both men off their feet and James took advantage of recovering first to hack through the man's carabiner strap with the sharpened edge of his bayonet, rising again he put his boot to the Frenchman who was now trying to rise also and was therefore sent screaming from the dragon's back. Breathing deeply, his breath clouding the cold air James took a moment to survey the dragon's back which made up their battlefield. Clare, Wood and another marine were nearer the rear of the dragon than himself and were holding off what was left of the french marines along with several bellmen who had attempted to come round from below to assist their comrades. A glance the other way showed Achilles' first and second lieutenants leading a pair of marines towards the French captain, swiftly unclasping and clipping their carabiners to different parts of the harness to remain secure as they moved forwards. They were cutting away the straps of several dead french marines as they went leaving only a pair of particularly large brutes left to watch their captain's back. Paterson the marine's medic was slightly nearer tending to Goss who was wounded, clasping his thigh as it gushed blood on the grey scales of the dragon's back. Large as the dragon was it's back was wide enough to allow no more than two or three men to fight abreast so James took the spare seconds he had to reload his musket. Taking a cartridge he used his body to shield his actions from the wind as he bit through the top of the greased paper cartridge, some of the gunpowder within was whisked away in the breeze regardless but no great amount. He then poured a small measure into the pan at the gun's firing mechanism before closing it and pushing the rest of the cartridge including the greater share of the powder and the musket ball itself into the barrel. The dragon lurched as James removed the ramrod from under the barrel and he barely kept his feet, recovering he rammed the remnants of the cartridge into the bottom of the barrel before replacing the ramrod. The entire process took less than fifteen seconds, a speed with which most British infantrymen would be pleased with on the ground. Looking back towards the dragon's head James cursed. One of the British officers was down and flopping limply against the dragon's side held on only by his carabiners and one of the marines had vanished altogether. The Captain had risen to assist his marines and the three now outnumbered their assailants who were further encumbered by the impossibility of killing the french Captain which would only send his dragon into a rage and doom them all. James therefore brought his musket up once more and took aim at the biggest of the French marines, the bearded brute was pushing back Roberts using his brute strength and longer musket to keep him at bay. Firing from one dragon's back to anothers was relatively simple as long as you didn't hit your own dragon's wing and no lightweights were harassing the opposing beast, hitting something was another matter though. Firing whilst actually on the opposition's back presented quite the opposite problem, he was probably only fifteen yards from the melee at the base of the Chevalier's neck so could be quite confident of hitting someone. However the frequent movement of the dragon through the air not to mention the rush of wind in his face made aiming much more difficult, he didn't afterall want to blow out the back of Roberts' head. The Chevalier had slowed it's flight, becoming more interested in trying to look back over it's shoulder after it's captain than returning to the rest of it's formation which would make a shot easier barring any sudden lurch or dive and James took advantage the moment Roberts stepped back leaving an opening for half a second, he pulled the trigger and once again felt the punishing thump in his shoulder as his weapon kicked back at him. The frenchman was much more inconvenienced though as the sound of the shot rung out the musket ball tore into his shoulder, from such close range it punched him off his feet and blew a spray of claret blood into the air. Roberts' didn't hesitate to press his advantage but stepped forwards to ram his bayonet into the exposed ribs of the other marine engaging Achilles' first lieutenant Davies. The captain now stood alone and faced with Roberts' bayonet and Davies' sword he reluctantly put up his own blade and was permitted to return to his seat.
Davies' sword remained at his neck but he was allowed to reassure the great dragon as he instructed it to turn to its starboard side and start making it's way towards British lines, now a captured prize. The marines at the rear of the Chevalier were organising the surrender of it's remaining crew so again James had a spare moment to himself. He was breathing deeply, the entire boarding had taken slightly less than a few minutes but with adrenaline pumping through his veins he felt like he'd run a marathon. The dragon was slowly beating it's way back to the covert at British held Halifax, looking back James could see the rest of the french formation, all smaller middleweights and lightweights withdrawing to their own lines, wings drooping no doubt for the loss of their formation leader. Achilles and his own formation were flying back towards their prize heads held high in good spirits. The capture of a french heavyweight would be a blow to the french and would put Achilles and his formation in good standing with their superiors. Roberts moved up to stand beside James breathing heavily also, they gazed together at Achilles. He was a mighty beast truly to their eyes. A twenty ton Chequered Nettle, he was heavily built and his gold coloured hide was speckled with brown patches. His tail was also built strongly and covered in low, small horns which made it a dangerous weapon and was the Chequered Nettle's defining feature. James and other marines had been assigned to Achilles several years ago and were proud to serve upon him and both respected and admired his captain but more the beast itself, Achilles being a fine example of a British heavyweight. Achilles formation partners didn't currently cut quite as dignified a vision, the trio of middleweight Yellow Reapers were full of the joy of victory and sped around Achilles calling congratulations to each other. The two smaller lightweights who normally minded the edges of the formation and were it's lookouts weren't quite as boisterous, the formation had fought hard to keep any help from materialising for the captured Chevalier and the smaller dragons looked tired but fortunately unhurt. Roberts clapped his hand to James' back in a congratulatory manner bringing his attention back to the Chevalier's much larger back. Goss was struggling in Paterson's grasp as the medic tried to attend to his injuries. Sobering quickly James followed Roberts to see what assistance they could render.