by Gage Lee
By the time she'd reached the outskirts of the village, several of her classmates had already been eliminated. They stalked back up the mountain path to the school, oblivious to her presence. They whined and griped about their bad luck. But Lira knew it wasn't luck that had undone them. These privileged young dragons didn't understand patience. None of them knew what it was like to lie in the mud for days, hiding from enemies who would as happily slit your throat as look at you. Not one of her classmates knew what it was like to cower beneath the floorboards of an abandoned house while other scouts searched for you and rounded up your companions to haul off to prison.
Lira had suffered through all that and more during her time as a refugee, then a bandit, and finally a slave. Her last name, Lors-gol'ros, marked her as a dangerous criminal, and she'd earned it. The other dragons might look down on her, but the hard truths of her life had given Lira skills and determination that none of them shared.
Now, she would put them to work. The past that haunted her would become a weapon for her to wield in the Glory Chase.
The village was laid out in a tiered semicircle that descended the mountain. Dragons had hewn terraces from the side of the mountain, forming rings of farmable land irrigated by artificial streams that were now tended by humans. After observing the layout for a few minutes, Lira knew that the houses on the ends of the terraces were the best targets. Fewer farmers could see those than the homes in the middle of the village. She angled her path toward the easternmost home on the first terrace, watching carefully for other clues that would lead her to the target.
Fortunately, at this time of the afternoon most of the farmers were working their fields. Their eyes were down on the dirt and the crops, not looking up the mountainside. And, while many of Lira's classmates were already disqualified, the farmers had gone back to work. They thought the challenge was over, because the other students were sneaky enough to avoid their notice.
Lira's time as a bandit had given her other insights, too. She nimbly made her way to the rooftop of her first target, knowing that people rarely looked up. She tested each step carefully, making sure her foot came down on a solid rafter and not a section of thatch that would send her plummeting into the house's interior. When she reached the home's peak, she scanned her surroundings for threats or competition.
It only took her a few seconds to spot the first of her classmates. A young dragon crouched behind a house on the terrace below her, frozen in place by the farmers who'd stopped for a chat beside a wagon on the path above the dragon. Another hunkered down near the edge of a well, silent and motionless as they waited for an opening to make their move.
Lira disregarded them. Both students had put themselves in positions that would be difficult to move from without being spotted. Lira wouldn't make that mistake.
“Now, if I was a flag, where would I be?” she mused to herself.
The professor was harsh and demanding, but he was also fair. Lira doubted he'd put the flags where they would be too hard to find, but he wouldn't make it easy for his students, either. To Lira, that meant he wouldn't hide them inside a farmhouse. Putting a flag there would make it much more likely the students wound run into a farmer, something that would risk the villagers' safety. After all, the farmers were human, and dragons weren't known for their care in dealing with those they regarded as inferiors. The gold had as much as said he'd be willing to injure, maybe even kill, a farmer if it meant winning the challenge.
Lira could never imagine doing something like that. Every life was sacred. The horrors she'd witnessed during her young life had burned that truth into her head.
So if the flags weren't inside, that meant they'd be outside but somewhere more difficult to access.
Somewhere like a roof.
Lira wasn't lucky enough to have picked a house with a flag on it, but it didn't take her long to find a white scrap of cloth fluttering in the breeze a few houses over. The flag dangled from the chimney’s side. It would be tricky to reach, but far from impossible.
The young dragon crept to the edge of the roof she'd occupied and scanned her surroundings for potential problems. None of the farmers had noticed her, and there were none close by. The smell of food rising from the chimney of her perch's neighbor, though, plucked at the scout's attention. Someone was cooking in that house. She'd have to be careful moving around it to avoid attracting their attention.
The scent was distracting, too. It was spicy fried chicken, one of her favorite meals. She'd had it rarely as a child, usually only when her mother found scraps, cold and discarded, in a tavern's trash. During her time with the bandits, the dish had been a little easier to come by, but it was still a treat. As a slave, she'd never even dreamed of tasting it again.
“Stop it,” she chided herself. This wasn't the time to think about food.
Lira slithered off the rooftop and darted across the open space between homes. She ducked low to keep her head below the level of the windows, then moved on all fours to the far end of the building. The scout heard farmers nearby, though she couldn't see them. They were getting closer, though, and it wouldn't be long before they passed between the houses and saw her.
Lira took a deep breath to fill her core with pneuma. She was at blue level, two ranks above a beginner's violet, but that still only allowed her to hold a small amount of mystic energy at her center. She could channel the pneuma into her legs to move faster, her arms to hit harder, or even her eyes to see farther. But the professor had also shown the scouts another use for that power.
She was a scout, attuned to the wood element, which represented scales for dragons. Lira focused on that attunement and directed the pneuma in her core outward to the surface of her skin. Her dragon sign, a layer of shimmering gray scales, appeared. The scout willed those scales to surround her in a field of shadows that shifted to mimic her surroundings. In the blink of an eye, Lira vanished from sight.
Not a moment too soon, either. A pair of farmers carrying a broken wagon wheel between them walked past Lira's position. As skilled as she was at hiding, she'd never have remained unseen were it not for the power of her scout’s dragon sign. A power she knew would not last long. Once Lira ran out of pneuma in her core, it would take her a few seconds to recharge the camouflage. That was an eternity of exposure.
The instant the farmers moved on by, the scout hustled to the next building, and jumped up to grab hold of its roof. She dragged herself over the edge and moved to its peak with the nimble stealth of a squirrel. The flag was just ahead of her, and seconds later she'd claimed it for her own.
Smoke wafted out of the chimney as her camouflage faded. It carried the delicious scent of fried poultry. The aroma made the scout's stomach ache. It was right there, ready for her to take it. She could almost taste the succulent meat, feel the crispy skin crackling between her teeth. All she had to do was distract the cook and take it. Easy.
Lira stuffed the flag into the belt pouch that held her pearl. The tiny orb was still white, without even a hint of red. Good. No one had spotted her. She'd get the chicken, then hustle back to the forest. After that, it would be easy to return to the professor and claim her prize.
Without another thought, the scout slipped off the back side of the roof and landed silently on the ground beneath a window. She carefully rose and peered through the cracked shutters. The kitchen was empty except for a teenaged human a little younger than Lira. The girl whistled to herself while she tossed bits of chicken in a bowl of flour. A counter divided the kitchen in half. It was between the window and the girl, and held a platter of white rice, a pot of soy sauce, and a mound of spicy fried chicken big enough to feed a dozen people.
Lira watched the girl take the floured chicken over to the stove, which was on the far side of the kitchen. The scout held her breath. The instant the chunks of chicken hit the hot grease, she'd make her move. The sizzling and popping would mask any sound she made, and the farm girl's attention would be on the hot grease. That gave Lira the opport
unity to take some chicken. There was so much there, the girl wouldn't even notice any was missing.
But when the girl returned to the stove, Lira froze. Going into the kitchen would jeopardize her mission. No matter how good the odds, no matter how easy the task it seemed, there was always a risk of failure. And if Lira was caught here, the challenge was over.
And not just for her. Losing the Glory would be bad, but the damage to her reputation would be even worse. People already looked at her like she was a freak. If she was caught stealing from the farmers, they'd label her a thief and she'd never recover from that.
If it was just her, Lira wouldn't even care.
But losing the challenge, tarnishing her reputation even further, would hurt Taun and the other Broken Blades.
The scout couldn't do that.
Lira took a deep breath, channeled her pneuma into scales to hide, and turned away from the food. She ignored her stomach's complaints as she left the village and climbed the mountain.
She'd done the right thing, but Lira the student knew she'd never convince Lira the slave, Lira the bandit, of that.
Chapter 16
WEEKS PASSED, THE FALL fading into winter, and still Taun hadn't advanced beyond a violet core. That limited the techniques he could master, so while the rest of his class were learning how to lace different elements into their forge work, Taun could only watch them in growing frustration. He'd come all this way, done the impossible, but it still didn't feel like he'd done enough. Because nothing he'd accomplished would help his family if the eldwyr attacked the Ruby Blade Keep again.
No, not if.
When.
Because Taun couldn't shake the feeling that the raid on his home was a test. He’d slaughtered the eldwyr, but only with Axaranth's help. Those monsters had magic of their own. When they realized the dragon wasn't at the keep, they'd attack. And this time, they'd come with a much bigger force.
There is no fault in your logic. The eldwyr have been gone from our world for much longer than any other time before. My descendants may believe we defeated those foul creatures, but there are always more of them waiting to rise from the wyld. They are a cancer of reality, unchecked life with no limits and no rules. They always return. Which is why we must be careful. You cannot push yourself too hard until we have healed the soul scale. I am the only dragon who believes you, the only one who can convince the Scaled Council of the coming danger. Do not let your ambition kill us and doom your family.
Axaranth had started talking again a few days ago. He still mostly kept his own counsel, except for those times when Taun's frustration or attempts to advance threatened the soul scale. Then the dragon became exceptionally chatty. It irritated Taun that the dragon had a point. Destroying the scale and killing Axaranth wouldn't just end the young knight's life along with the dragon. It would prevent his family from getting the help they would need when the monsters returned.
“You look so glum,” Kam said, throwing an arm around Taun's shoulders. “That dragon in your head got you down?”
The Broken Blades had just wrapped up a delicious breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, griddle cakes drenched in butter and honey, and more sliced berries and fruit than Taun had seen in all his years back at the keep. As with everything else the dragons did, meals were lavish affairs. It pained Taun to see so many half-eaten dishes cleared by the human servants who waited on the dragons at mealtimes. The wasted food would've filled the bellies of many Koth'tok landsmen. He shook his head at the inequality as they headed for class.
“I'm a little nervous about hoard class, today,” Taun admitted. “This is the first advanced stuff we've done, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it.”
Kam rolled his eyes and laughed. “You adapt better than most dragons, Taun. You may not do things the same way we do, but I'm willing to bet you'll figure it out. That's one reason the rest of the Blades listen to you. You're clever.”
Taun waved off Kam's compliment, only to have Sutari add her vote of confidence.
“Kam's right,” she said. “Listen to me. My crudlung is better than it has been in years. And it's not just moving into the new quarters. Since I got sick, every physicker has told me that rest was my best option. But you convinced me to keep fighting. It's exercise that helped me breathe almost freely again. You're showing us a new way, Taun.”
“And, of course,” Moglan added, “the food has been amazing since we started winning. I haven't been this full in a long time.”
Lira snorted at that and shook her head. “It shows.”
The shaman faked a roar and lunged after the scout who nimbly dodged away from him. The pair of them raced ahead of the rest of the lodge to the main classroom tower where they had their hoard training class. Taun watched his friends go, a wan smile on his face. Even if he hadn't figured out how to advance again, or how to solve the problems his family's keep faced, moments like this made the trip to the school worthwhile. Having dragons for friends was strange, but Taun couldn't deny it was nice. If push came to shove, maybe he'd ask them for help at the keep. He was sure the other Blades would pitch in however they could. Moglan could talk to the spirits of the land, maybe convince them to work with the farmers instead of against them. Sutari's family could help with trade advice, or maybe even form a new route between the capital and the farms on the edge of the Dragon Empire.
Maybe—“Look who it is,” Auris called from behind Taun and his friends. “A couple of losers and their pet human.”
“Great,” Kam muttered. “Don't murder them, Sutari.”
Kam’s warning was a joke, but Taun was glad to hear it, anyway. Sutari had grown stronger, and her classes for the warrior path had hardened her resolve and sharpened her skills. She wouldn't be able to kill all the golds, they'd all jump in to fight together if it came to that, but a well-placed thrust from the sword she wore on her hip might be enough to take out Auris. While it would be nice to see the arrogant dragon pay for his bravado, killing the crown prince wouldn't help the Broken Blades. They'd likely end up in cells awaiting a rigged trial that would find them banished to the farthest reaches of the Empire.
Or executed and dumped in a beggar's grave somewhere far out of sight and mind.
“I've got it,” Taun said.
Sutari and Kam both looked at him a little nervously, but both nodded. The human knight turned back to face the five gold dragons. Taun did his best to keep a confident mask in place, though inside, his primitive survival instincts were screaming for him to run. The sight of five angry dragons, even younglings like these, was almost enough to shake his resolve. Almost.
“What can I do for you?” he asked Auris. “I don't want to be late for hoard class, so make it quick.”
The leader of the golds, nearly two feet taller than Taun and a solid hundred pounds of muscle heavier, strode forward. The few months of training at the Academy had hardened the prince's scales and extended the patches of gleaming gold until they covered his entire forehead, his cheeks, and chin. A thin line of metallic protection even ran down the front of Auris's throat. His dragon sign had come in, too, and claws as sharp as daggers jutted from the tips of his fingers while a mystic aura unfurled behind him like spread wings. When Auris spoke, his tongue flashed between his teeth, its forked tip further proof of his draconic heritage. He was growing fast, and his temper had kept pace.
“You can leave,” the crown prince snarled. “I'm sick of pretending there's any place for a human in this sacred place.”
Strike him down. Axaranth whispered. You do not have to kill him. But you cannot let him talk to us this way. It will embolden the whelp and all who follow him.
Taun did want to lash out at Auris. He had weeks of pent up aggravation and aggression, stoked daily by the other dragons who agreed with Auris. Even in his new lodge, Taun wasn't safe from their taunts. The dragons sneered at him in the hallways and avoided him in the dining rooms. Their whispers dogged his footsteps, and he often lay awake at night wondering why they hated him s
o very much. If he was as weak as the dragons believed, then what difference did it make if he trained at the Academy? He couldn't possibly measure up to their standards.
Except he and his lodge of misfits were slowly, but surely, racking up more Glory than the other dragons. Sutari was a whiz on the battlefield who consistently ranked in the top three of her warrior class. Kam's work on the occultist path had given him a good number of wins, while Moglan and Lira won far more often than not. Taun was certain he'd win more challenges, but his professors hadn’t issued any more. Hoard class was mostly theory and practice, and the servant's path class under Professor Geth had yet to have another challenge.
Despite that, his lodge had climbed the ranks of the Glory Chase. And that did not sit well with those who wanted to see them as inferior creatures worthy only of scorn.
“I'm sorry, prince,” Taun said, putting an emphasis on the title so that it seemed more of an insult than an honorific, “but I'm not leaving. I've come too far to turn back now.”
Auris fumed silently at the knight's defiance. He leaned in, towering over Taun, eyes glowing red with gathered pneuma. Taun didn't have to look at the dragon's hands to know his claws had grown longer as his dragon sign intensified. Those wicked talons were long and sharp enough to slice through the knight's throat if the dragon lashed out at him.
Taun held his ground. Bullies could smell fear. The knight wouldn't allow the dragon the satisfaction.
“Let me make something clear, man-thing,” Auris growled, his words punctuated by puffs of steam that leaked from his nostrils. “We're done tolerating your foolishness. You cannot win the Glory Chase. Stop wasting your time, and ours.”
Taun did not let his eyes waver from Auris's glare. He'd heard that some predators couldn't help but pounce if their prey ran. Instead, the knight held his ground and forced himself to retain his composure. He drew pneuma into his core until its weight grounded him. Though his violet core was not as strong as Auris's blue core, the fact that a human could channel energy at all was unnerving to most dragons. Taun played on that unease as he spoke.