The Dragon’s Mark

by Alex Archer

  She lay still on the bed, doing what she could to keep her breathing steady, and looked around through eyes that were barely open.

  There was a shadowy form off to her right, slowly crossing the room and moving closer to her bed.

  Wait, Annja said to herself.

  The intruder didn’t make a sound, crossing the floor like a ghost in the night. He stood at the very foot of the bed, looking down at her. Annja could feel the other’s gaze, could see eyes gleaming in the morning half-light. Whoever it was, he was dressed to disguise his appearance, in dark clothing and a hooded mask.

  Just as the Dragon and his men had worn back in Paris.

  Wait…

  As Annja lay there, doing all she could to make it seem as if she were still asleep, the intruder slowly brought a hand out from behind his back, revealing the long gleaming blade in it. Slowly the weapon was raised over the intruder’s head, ready for the strike.

  Now!

  As the intruder’s sword came whistling down toward where she lay in the bed, Annja threw herself to the side, summoning her own sword as she went.

  The intruder’s blade slashed through the mattress of her bed, but Annja wasn’t there any more. She was on her knees beside the bed and was already in motion, her sword swinging toward the other in a well-executed counterattack.

  The intruder reacted with lightning-sharp reflexes, dancing backward out of reach of her weapon.

  The move, however, gave Annja the space she needed to get to her feet and brace herself for the next attack.

  No sooner had she gotten into a defensive stance than the intruder rushed forward. They exchanged several blows, their swords ringing in the early-morning quiet.

  Annja lunged, hoping to slip her sword past the other’s guard, but the intruder was too quick for her, jumping on top of the bed and then trying to use the extra foot or so in height he had gained by doing so to his advantage. A vicious overhead stroke nearly took Annja’s arm off at the shoulder; she saved herself only by throwing her body backward out of the way and then was forced to scramble to defend against a blistering rain of blows.

  She knew the apartment’s layout instinctively, something the intruder did not, and so she gained a moment’s respite when she managed to put the length of her sofa between them.

  That’s when the intruder spoke.

  “Give it to me and I’ll let you live.”

  The voice was thick and gruff, but obviously disguised as well, and didn’t tell her anything about her opponent.

  She didn’t know what the intruder wanted. Nor was she naive enough to believe the offer. If she were to lower her guard for even a moment she’d be run through without hesitation. And then he would be free to do whatever he had come here to do.

  Fat chance, buddy.

  They circled the room, keeping the furniture between them for the moment, each of them preparing for another onslaught. As they did so, the light from the rising sun shot through the window and illuminated the sword held in the intruder’s hand. Annja’s gaze was immediately drawn to the etching on the blade, just above the hilt.

  The etching of a dragon, rampant.

  Her eyes widened in shocked recognition and her gaze shifted from the intruder’s sword to his face. He wore a mask, but familiar eyes stared back at her from out of its depths.

  She was facing the Dragon for a second time!

  The Dragon must have seen the recognition in her eyes, for he suddenly rushed forward, intensifying his efforts to catch her in an error and slip a thrust past her guard.

  But she was ready for him this time, and it was actually Annja who drew first blood. She feinted to the left, drawing his thrust, and then spun about, her sword slashing out and drawing a furrow down the length of his thigh.

  The scent of fresh blood hit the air.

  The Dragon faltered, perhaps surprised at having been so marked, and Annja used that moment to put a little more space between them. She was ready and waiting for the next onslaught when he did a surprising thing.

  The Dragon abruptly turned and rushed across the loft, headed for the front door.

  By the time Annja had managed to recover from her surprise, the other had made it halfway across the apartment.

  Oh, no, you don’t, Annja thought. You’re not getting away that easily.

  Annja rushed after the intruder. As she did, she switched the position of the sword in her hands, until she was holding the blade like a spear.

  When the intruder was forced to slow down for a second to negotiate the door, which had been closed again behind him, Annja wound up and let fly.

  The sword whistled through the air across the remaining space of the apartment.

  The intruder managed to get the door partially open and was trying to slip through it just as the sword slammed point first into its surface.

  It had been a good throw, and if the door hadn’t come open right at that second, the sword might have buried itself in the intruder’s back. As it was it managed to grab a piece of his sleeve, pinning his arm against the door.

  As Annja charged forward, the intruder looked back in her direction, and for the first time she got a good look at the intruder’s face.

  Even covered by a hood and mask that left only the eyes free, Annja recognized the face she was staring at. She’d been staring at her drawing of that face for days. She’d been seeing it in her dreams. She had absolutely no doubt that she was gazing at the face of the Dragon.

  After all she’d been through trying to find him, she couldn’t let him get away!

  The Dragon pulled on his sleeve, trying to free himself, but the sword had driven itself deep into the wood and there was no way he was going to be able to pull himself free.

  Annja was closing in fast, thinking she just might reach the door before anything else could happen, when the Dragon raised his sword and brought it down sharply on edge of his sleeve where it was nailed to the door.

  As Annja reached for him, he used his now-rescued limb to fling the door open, directly into her path. When she skidded to a stop to keep from colliding with the door, the Dragon slipped through into the hallway beyond.

  Rather than spending precious seconds to yank the sword free, Annja simply willed it back into the otherwhere, freeing it from the door.

  She followed the intruder into the hallway.

  She turned left outside her apartment, assuming her uninvited guest would head for the ground floor, and as a result she lost a few precious seconds before she realized that he had gone the other way, toward the staircase leading to the roof instead.

  Annja skidded to a halt and turned around, heading back in the other direction. She could hear footsteps on the stairs, just above her head. By the time she reached the steps, a crash echoed from above. Annja knew that sound; the door to the roof had just been thrown open.

  She took the steps two at a time and as she reached the landing above she summoned her sword again.

  The door to the rooftop was directly in front of her. She grabbed the handle, said a quick prayer to lady luck, and, yanking the door open, threw herself forward in a somersault onto the rooftop.

  The Dragon was standing on the small structure that covered the stairwell door to the roof and would have cut Annja’s head from her shoulders had she gone through the door upright.

  Rolling to her feet, Annja realized that she was standing on the rooftop in her pajamas with nothing on her feet while waving a large sword around in the air.

  If any of her neighbors caught sight of her…

  The Dragon wasn’t waiting around, however. As dawn’s red light burst over the horizon, he was silhouetted there for the briefest of moments and then he jumped off and raced across the rooftop, intent on making the leap to the next building.

  Annja gave chase.

  The rough surface of the rooftop cut into her feet, but she was so close to catching the Dragon and getting some answers that she wasn’t about to stop. She released her sword, knowing she could cal
l it again. She needed the extra speed she could gain by sending it away.

  The edge of the roof loomed ahead of the Dragon.

  “WHAT THE HELL?”

  Dave bolted upright in his chair, frantically rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had the watch, but apparently he’d dozed off a little because one moment he was watching the darkened windows of Annja Creed’s apartment and the next thing he knew there was a sword battle going on inside.

  “Hey, guys! We’ve got a situation in here!”

  A moment later the door to the bedroom that served as their observation post burst open and Marco rushed inside, Jessi right on his heels.

  “What have we got?” Marco asked.

  Dave simply pointed.

  The two of them, Annja and whoever the guy in the black mask was, were racing around the bedroom, and not in a good way. It was still pretty dark, the sun just starting to peek over the horizon, but because of their position they had a pretty good view inside the apartment and could see them hacking and slashing away at each other.

  Suddenly the intruder made a break for the door and they all watched in near awe as Annja reversed the sword she was using and hurled it, spearlike across the room to pin her opponent in place.

  “Son of a… Did you see that?” Dave gasped.

  Marco was already headed out the door, rallying the troops as he went. “Code Red!” he yelled. “Code Red.”

  They’d worked out a system for all their problems when they had first come together as a team. Code Red was the highest warning level they had, reserved for when a principal was in deep trouble.

  Marco stuck his head back in the door to the room where Dave was. “Keep watch,” he said sternly. “Don’t turn this into a fiasco.”

  Dave waved him away. “Yeah, yeah, get going!”

  As Marco rallied the troops, Dave kept watch. Like Annja had done only moments before, he thought the intruder would go down instead of up.

  “They’re on the roof!” Dave yelled when he realized what was happening. Marco and the others charged out the door. Dave couldn’t run, not with a lame leg from a previous operation, so he always got left behind. But this time he didn’t mind, because out of all of them, he was the one with the front-row seat.

  He sat back and watched the battle unfold on the rooftop.

  Despite the danger to their principal, one thing kept running through his mind.

  Damn, does she look good in pajamas!

  AS THE DRAGON SPED toward the edge of the roof, Annja realized his intent. The next building was close enough to reach with a decent leap and it looked as if that was exactly what he intended to try.

  If she could catch him when he came down…

  Annja reached deep and found a bit more speed, ignoring the added pain she felt as her feet cut deeper into the gravel covering the rooftop.

  Worry about your feet later, she told herself.

  When the Dragon jumped, Annja was only a step behind.

  She slammed into him in midleap and rode his body down onto the adjacent rooftop. The impact knocked her clear, but she was up again in a heartbeat, already moving in with hands and feet at the ready.

  The Dragon stood and Annja waded in, throwing a jab, uppercut, jab combination, but the Dragon blocked all three. He lashed out with a side kick, designed to cave in a rib or two, but Annja skipped away and his foot hit only empty air.

  They circled each other, hands weaving back and forth, both a distraction and a means to stay loose, ready to respond no matter what the strike.

  This time it was the Dragon who attacked first, coming in hard and fast with a wave of punches followed by a high kick to the head. Annja blocked the punches and then dropped to the ground, swinging her legs around in a scything motion, trying to cut the Dragon’s feet out from under him. Anticipating the move, the Dragon leaped over backward in a somersault that put him a few feet away from her.

  Again they closed, trading blow after blow. Annja blocked most of what came at her, though a few strikes did manage to get through. She took one to the ribs and then caught a glancing blow off the side of the head that momentarily stunned her.

  She shook it off, but the damage was done. That blow had given the Dragon a few precious seconds to break away and start the run for the next rooftop.

  Doggedly, Annja went in pursuit.

  MARCO AND THE REST of the surveillance team spilled out onto the street, headed for Annja’s building. They kept looking upward, waiting for one of the combatants to make a wrong move and end up splattered on the sidewalk after a four-story fall.

  Back in the observation room, Dave continued to give them the play-by-play over the radio.

  THE DRAGON REACHED THE edge of the roof and jumped. He did it without hesitation, without a second thought, and so Annja followed suit.

  Unfortunately, the blow to the head had slowed her down a bit, and the cuts on her feet dropped her speed even more. When she reached the edge of the roof she planted one foot on the small ledge that ran around the top and launched herself into space, only realizing that she didn’t have enough speed when she was halfway across the gap.

  She wasn’t going to make it.

  As she watched, the Dragon touched down on the other side and kept going, widening the distance between them without looking back.

  The edge of the roof was coming up fast and Annja could tell she was going to be an inch, maybe two, short. She stretched as far as she could, reaching out with her fingers, praying all the while.

  One hand caught the edge of the roof, barely grabbing on with just the tips of her fingers.

  Her body slammed into the side of the building, the force of the impact almost jarring her loose, but Annja held on with all her strength, crimping her fingers the way she’d once been shown in rock-climbing class. By some miracle she managed to remain hanging on to the edge of the building, though by only the thinnest of margins.

  Having originally been worried that the Dragon was going to get away, now all Annja could do was hope that he didn’t come back. If he wanted to kill her, now would be the perfect time. All it would take would be a little tap on the fingers and she’d plunge to the concrete below.

  “LOOK!” JESSI SHOUTED AND as one the group turned to follow her pointed finger. Above their heads, between the buildings, they could see someone hanging off the edge of the roof.

  Marco radioed Dave. “Can you tell who it is?” he asked.

  “No. They’re out of my sight now, behind the next building over.”

  Terrified that Creed was going to die on his watch and he’d have to explain how it had all gone wrong to Henshaw, Marco rushed for the entrance to the building, praying he’d be in time.

  SLOWLY, EVER SO SLOWLY, Annja reached up with her other hand, being careful not to twist and pull herself off the roof. Gradually, inch by inch, she managed to get her other hand over the edge of the rooftop.

  She rested there a minute, then began to pull herself upward, as if doing a chin-up, intending to get herself high enough to throw an elbow over the edge and secure some leverage to pull the rest of her body back to safety.

  Unfortunately, the roof had other ideas.

  The low wall that lined the outer edge of the roof had seen more than its share of harsh winters, acid rain and time’s steady but corroding hand. The section Annja was clinging to chose that moment to voice its displeasure at the conditions it was forced to endure by crumbling beneath her weight.

  One minute she was pulling herself upward, the next she was twisting in the wind again, barely hanging on with one hand, while chunks of masonry plummeted to shatter on the street far below.

  She wanted to kick her legs and flail about with her arms, but she fought the instinctual motion that her body cried out for and willed herself to hold still. Any extraneous motion at this point could pull her right off the roof.

  To make matters worse, her left hand was starting to slip, as well. She could feel her fingers slowly sliding backward, one millimeter a
t a time.

  She guessed she had less than a minute before her hand would slide totally free.

  After that, it was all over.

  MARCO DASHED UP THE STAIRS three at a time, muttering under his breath all the while.

  “Hold on,” he was saying. “Hold on, hold on.”

  He kept a sharp eye out for whoever it had been that Annja had been chasing, but he didn’t meet anyone on the stairs, and by the time he burst onto the rooftop his attention was solely on rescuing the woman whose life he was supposed to be protecting.

  He couldn’t see her from where he stood and he didn’t have time to search every side.

  He keyed the radio.

  “Which way?” he asked, nearly frantic with worry.

  Dave was immediately on the line with an answer. “Left. In the middle.”

  Marco rushed over to the edge.

  ANNJA TRIED TO SWING her right arm up and over the edge, but the motion only served to make her other hand slip faster. She wrapped her thumb over the tops of her fingers, bearing down, but it was too late—she’d slid too far and couldn’t find any traction to keep from slipping farther.

  “I am not going to die like this!” she said through gritted teeth, and was about to call her sword, thinking she could jam it into the masonry or something as a last-ditch effort, when she heard footsteps charging in her direction.

  The Dragon.

  Apparently letting her fall to her death wasn’t good enough; he had to help her along the way.

  Well, two could play at the game.

  As her fingers began to slip faster, Annja brought forth her sword. If she was going to die, she would do what she could to take the Dragon with her.

  MARCO RUSHED OVER TO the edge. As he drew closer he saw her hand, and watched in dismay as her fingers slid backward.

  “No!” he shouted, and dove forward, arms outstretched.

  The fingers of his left hand touched something soft, something alive, and he seized it with all the desperation he could muster.

  He felt her fingers wrap around his wrist in return, locking them into a mountain climber’s grasp.