The Blind Dragon

by Peter Fane

  Anna looked to the morning sky. Nothing. At least, not yet.

  The rider next to the captain said to the short one beside him, "Mark its eyes. The thing is blind as a slug."

  "And see the color." The short one pointed. "Must be one of Nightlove's spawn. Old girl needs some proper seed, eh?"

  "Voidbane must be sick indeed if the best he can do is this sightless worm," another chimed in.

  The short rider leered at Anna. His nose was strange, one of his nostrils much larger than the other, like a pig's. "Cannot fight if you cannot see, eh, sweetie?" He winked at her.

  "Should not surprise," a rider said. "They will take whatever comes here, flawed or no. Look at this squire. Missing half her tunic, for the Sister's sake. Where is your sleeve, girl?"

  Several of the riders grinned. The captain did not. The pig-nosed rider who'd winked at her was appraising her now, looking her over from head to foot. Anna's face flushed, but she kept her chin high and her eyes on the captain. She hadn't thought about her tunic sleeve. The one she'd used to pad Master Khondus's wound. How ridiculous she must look. She hoped they didn't notice the bulge beneath her good sleeve, where she'd sheathed the Tevéss dagger—or the bullet hole in Dagger's wing.

  "You know," the pig-nosed rider mused, "what Nightlove really needs is a proper mounting." He made a rude thrusting gesture with his hips and looked at Anna pointedly. His weird nostrils flared, and he pursed his lips.

  "Mounting?" another rider sniffed. "Wait 'til Irondusk gets on her. Now that will be a breeding. Poor old girl will never recover."

  "Next foal will come out with four eyes."

  "And they will all work!" Pig-nose snorted.

  The riders guffawed, slapping their knees and pounding each other on the back. The captain's frown deepened.

  Moondagger hissed, his tail lashing the parapet. The breeze picked up a touch. For her part, Anna looked at each rider carefully, marking their faces in turn. She wasn't mad. She was calculating.

  Laugh all you want, she thought.

  She'd prove Dagger's worth soon enough. And to these very men.

  From the east, riding the breeze, a bronze war dragon of medium weight, about twenty paces long, arced gracefully over the barracks' roof. Its scales shone like polished brass and its rigging was deep maroon, the color of House Tevéss. A maroon war banner was clipped to the underside of its chest, the three crossed swords of House Tevéss emblazoned in black at its center.

  Anna frowned.

  A banner like that would normally only be worn in combat. To any rider on Dávanor, the banner meant one thing and one thing only: war. A cold suspicion rose in her mind, but she quelled it.

  The bronze dragon swung over the terrace, made a wide turn, and landed smoothly with a muscly grunt and gust of wind beside the Tevéss riders. Its scales glimmered. Its large eyes were a luminous, pale green. Its saddle and harnesses were well-oiled and meticulously maintained. It cocked its head at the Tevéss captain, giving Anna and Moondagger no more than a passing glance.

  The captain stepped to his dragon and patted him on the side.

  "I asked you a question, girl," the captain said. "What is this animal doing out of harness?"

  The bronze turned and stared at them. Its green eyes were cool and intelligent. Dagger returned its gaze fearlessly, a low growl forming in his throat—even though the bronze was clearly trained for combat and almost ten times his size.

  "Forgive me, sir." Anna bowed. "Lord Layne commanded this foal be prepared as a target test for Lord Oskor and his Lordship's new cannon from Paráden—."

  "A target for the new cannon?" The captain looked at her sharply.

  Fool's error! Anna's face went hot, but she kept her eyes on the captain. Obviously, House Dradón wasn't supposed to know of the arrival of the Pretender King's guns. But how big a mistake had she made? The other riders seemed not to have noticed her slip. Quite the opposite.

  "Target practice?" one of the riders choked, nearly spitting out his tea.

  "Oh, that is rich!" another added.

  "Blind worm used as a decoy!" Pig-nose laughed, his nostrils flaring. "Only here! Only here!"

  The riders brayed. The bronze dragon sniffed, stretched its wings wide, and settled back on its haunches, green eyes flickering. Somewhere, a crow cawed.

  The captain's frown deepened. "Khondus agree to this 'test,' girl?"

  Anna nodded. "Master Khondus is a loyal servant of House Dradón. As am I."

  "I am surprised." The captain looked at her closely.

  One of the riders snickered and whispered just loud enough for Anna to hear, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

  Someone snorted.

  "Shut your holes," the captain snapped. He looked at Moondagger. "Where is Lord Layne now?" he asked.

  "When I last saw him, sir, he and Captain d' Rent were in the lower stables. I believe it was their plan to return to the High Keep."

  The captain frowned. For a moment, he seemed even more suspicious. Then he shook his head and smiled at her falsely. "So be it. Give your message to me, girl. Then get you and your beast gone. I will deliver it to Terreden."

  "Forgive me, sir. I was asked to give word to Captain Terreden directly. A personal matter, sir."

  "And what personal matter is that, exactly?"

  Moondagger growled. It was a deep, mature sound.

  The Tevéss riders started at the noise, their smiles gone, hands going instinctively to their guns. The captain's bronze rose off his haunches. Dagger's eyes were mean moon-slits.

  "Easy," Anna said calmly, so that they could see she had things well in hand.

  Our time will come.

  Dagger settled a bit, but Anna could feel his energy vibrating the air like a high, silent note.

  "Calm yourselves," the captain snapped. He patted his dragon low on the neck and whispered something in its ear. Then he glanced at Moondagger, turned back to Anna, and smiled. "Give me your message, girl. I will take it to Captain Terreden. Sara and I are old friends. On my honor, you and she shall have my discretion."

  "Forgive me, sir. I cannot disobey my orders. A private matter from her sister—."

  "Her sister?" a rider laughed. "You been chasing the Dradón ladies again, Hendo? Need to keep your nasty mitts off the High House's womenfolk."

  "For the moment, at least." The pig-nosed rider, Hendo, grinned. He stared at Anna, his nostrils flexing.

  "I was unaware Terreden had a sister, girl," the captain said.

  "Yes, sir." Anna nodded. "Three sisters, sir. Captain Terreden is a friend of my family. For this reason, I was sent, sir."

  "What is your name, girl?" the captain asked.

  "Anna Dyer."

  Dead silence.

  The riders stared at her. All of them. Even the war dragon looked at her for a long moment, something new in its green eyes. The riders looked from her to their captain, who seemed a little taken aback himself. Had she made another mistake? She'd have to get better at this. Moondagger glared at them, his eyes glowing with contempt. He turned his gaze to the pig-nosed Hendo and licked his fangs wickedly.

  "Who is your Father, squire?" the captain asked.

  Anna's face went warm.

  "My father was Erik Dyer," she said.

  The captain nodded soberly, as if his suspicions were confirmed. The riders glanced at each other, then back at Anna.

  "I knew him well," the captain said. "He commanded the Sun Daggers under the late Lord David. Your mother, she led the White Demons before Terreden."

  It was not a question, but Anna answered anyway. "Yes, sir."

  The captain nodded. "Your people are fine soldiers, squire. A clan of the highest honor. House Dradón's best riders, by far."

  "Thank you, sir," Anna said. "And might I ask your name, sir?"

  "I am Stephen Corónd, Captain and Dragon Master of House Tevéss." He spoke as if his name should mean something to Anna. It didn't.

  "My honor, sir." Anna said, with a formal bow.
"Your name is well-known to my family."

  Captain Corónd cleared his throat. "You cannot deliver your message today, dragon squire. Terreden has taken eight of her squads along with eight of ours southwest this morning for maneuvers. They ride for the Hengén Cleft and will meet Lord Oskor as he arrives. They'll be gone at least a week—perhaps more. Your message will have to wait."

  Anna nodded calmly.

  But her mind raced.

  Hengén Cleft. One week. It was critical intelligence, to be sure. Lord Layne had said three days. A week meant they had more time. But even so, if Terreden was gone, then who would deal with these enemy riders and their dragons? Who would release Voidbane? How would Master Khondus's plan move forward? How could they secure the Drádonhold without their dragons? And why was the captain telling her this? Could this intelligence be trusted? Or was the captain feeding her bad information because of her slip-up regarding the Pretender King's cannon? Most importantly, if House Dradón's dragons were already gone, then how would they be able to attack Lord Oskor's column before it arrived?

  Anna glanced again at the riders' war gear, their guns, their blades, and their armor. A squad of armed riders. A trained war dragon bannered for battle. Blocking the barracks' door.

  That cold suspicion that had been lurking in Anna's mind began to crawl up out of the dark. And there was no putting it back.

  Moondagger hissed softly.

  She must see inside the barracks.

  "Perhaps, sir." Anna cleared her throat. "I could leave a note on her bunk? For when she returns? That might be—."

  Captain Corónd shook his head, still smiling. "Not a good way to communicate a private message, eh, squire? I think it best for you to wait on her return. I am sure the riders of House Dradón would not disturb your missive, but I cannot say the same for these brigands." He smiled broadly with false warmth, cocking his head at his men.

  They didn't smile. Hendo stared at her nastily.

  "Of course, sir." Anna nodded. "Forgive my intrusion, sir. May I be dismissed?"

  "No, you may not."

  Moondagger growled.

  It took all Anna's willpower not to bolt for the stairs.

  Captain Corónd straightened formally. "Allow me to pass on my respects to your family. Your mother, she still serves here in the High Keep?"

  There seemed to be more to his question than simple curiosity.

  "No, sir," Anna answered. "She resigned her post and returned with my sisters to the family farm after Father's passing."

  "I see." He nodded. "Please give her my best wishes. And the same to your sisters, of course."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Dismissed." He nodded.

  Then, almost like it was an afterthought, he smiled with what he must have thought looked like sincerity. "And do not forget to get that animal into harness, squire."

  "Yes, sir!" Anna crossed her chest with her fist, returning a fake smile of her own.

  Moondagger gave the riders and the captain's war dragon a final growl, then dropped from the parapet.

  Anna turned and walked across the terrace, down the steps from which she'd come. As she left, she could feel their eyes on her.

  The captain said something that she couldn't hear.

  Someone replied.

  But it wasn't a joke.

  All the laughing was over.

  17

  MOONDAGGER SAW HIMSELF ripping the men and their dragons to pieces. He saw lines of blood spraying bright patterns across stone and steel. He saw the men shriek, holding their hands in front of their faces, their silly weapons useless, their open mouths little caves into which he poured silver-white fire, searing their guts, scorching their flesh, cooking them whole in their funny metal suits. He saw the bronze dragon scream as he sank his fangs into its throat.

  A wild delight filled Moondagger's heart.

  It was a new sensation.

  A violent, righteous bliss.

  And it felt wonderful.

  More than wonderful.

  It was as if Moondagger had found his purpose.

  To fight and war with Anna in the sky.

  And as the burning men jerked and danced their crazy dance, as their dragons sang their howling death songs, Dagger's heart was filled with a savage, ecstatic joy—the kind of joy that touches those who have finally found their reason to live.

  He would only have to do one thing.

  Our time will come.

  He would have to wait.

  18

  ANNA WALKED DOWN the steps, away from the barracks' terrace.

  The moment she was out of the enemies' sight, she ran, leapt down the last stairs, and—instead of continuing down towards the Dragon Steps, the way she'd come up—took a hard left, crossing a short bridge, sprinting down the narrow alley that dead-ended at the service door of the upper barracks' kitchen. She tried the handle. Locked. She looked into the small window at the door's center.

  Nothing. Empty and dark.

  Half a bell's time before the start of breakfast and the place should've been clattering with cooks and servants and apprentices busy preparing the morning meal. But there wasn't even a scullery boy to be seen.

  Moondagger swooped into the alley, angling sideways to fit, wing tips brushing the narrow walls. He landed at Anna's side, a bit awkwardly on account of the confined space, and nudged up against her. Anna smoothed the dragon's head absently. His scales were warm under her hand.

  Master Khondus thought that they had the advantage of surprise, that House Dradón had the initiative.

  Anna looked up the face of the terrace's retaining wall.Above her, she could just see the upper barracks' roof.

  She had to get up.

  She had to be sure.

  Dagger inched a bit closer, gave Anna a gentle head-butt, and spread his wings.

  "Soon," Anna said. She kissed the foal's wet nose. "Even the fastest learners don't take a rider, even a training squire, until the end of their second week."

  Moondagger stretched his wings wide, their tips bending inward as their ends pushed against the alley's narrow walls.

  She shook her head and looked to the top of the wall. "Meet me up there."

  19

  THE MORTAR BETWEEN the wall blocks was in good shape, but there were still a few familiar cracks Anna could use to climb. In fact, she'd climbed this particular wall often—but she was usually climbing down to visit the barracks' kitchen for a clandestine snack.

  Moondagger was waiting for her when she scraped herself over the parapet. They were in the upper barracks' rear courtyard. The courtyard was filled with clothes drying on a dozen even lines. Most of the laundry was the blue and white livery of House Dradón, but there were a few pieces of maroon gear belonging to riders of House Tevéss as well. A light breeze stirred the empty uniforms. The morning sky was pink, the sun just set to rise.

  Above and to her right, the foundation wall of the eastern stables rose up, huge and indomitable. Above that, she could see the retaining wall of Voidbane's lodge. On her left, a narrow gap between the southern side of the barracks and the retaining wall's parapet led back out to the barracks' front terrace, where she'd just left the Tevéss riders.

  Anna heard a dragon roar. It was followed by an impossibly deep response. Moondagger cocked his head at the sound, his eyes wide.

  Voidbane.

  For some reason, hearing the giant dragon made Anna feel better. Voidbane was there. And, no matter what happened, he was a force to be reckoned with. Dagger pointed his nose at the lodge, sniffing and tasting the air.

  "Your sire." Anna patted Dagger's side. "You'll meet him soon."

  She walked around the courtyard's perimeter, staying out of sight behind the hanging laundry, working her way up to the barracks' back door. A neat stack of empty tubs sat there. Anna tried the door. Locked. But the shutters of the barracks' rear windows were open. Anna took one of the laundry tubs, flipped it over beneath the window, and stepped onto it. Slowly, she lifted h
er head so she could peek inside.

  She was looking into the barracks' rear utility room. There was no one there. On the right side of the room, shelves ran floor to ceiling, filled with carefully folded blue uniforms. On the left side of the room, lines of neatly arranged brooms, mops, buckets, dusters, rags, and other cleaning supplies hung from well-ordered hooks. The wall directly across from her, opposite the window, was lined with shelves carefully stacked with clay dishes, plates, mugs, pitchers, and bowls. There was a narrow staircase in the near corner to her left that descended into the barracks' kitchen. In the far right corner, a swinging door led into the common room.

  Anna pushed at the window. It swung open soundlessly. She jumped to the stone sill, slid herself over, and lowered herself into the room. Moondagger thrust his head into the window, his eyes wide, broad tongue tasting the air.

  "Stay here," Anna whispered. "Absolute silence."

  Dagger's pinkish nostrils flared, but he made no noise.

  Anna opened the window all the way, so that she might leap out if necessary, then crossed to the swinging door that led to the common room. The door had a round window in its center and swung both ways to ease traffic coming up from the barracks' kitchen.

  Anna put her ear to the door crack and listened.

  The low murmur of quiet conversations. She couldn't make out any specific sentences or words, but the inflection and pattern was marked by that unmistakable western accent.

  Anna cracked the door and peeked inside.

  Soldiers wearing the maroon livery of House Tevéss filled the common room.

  Dozens of them. Dozens of dragon riders—.

  No.

  More than dozens.

  At least a hundred soldiers in all. The common room was packed with them. And not all were riders. In fact, most were ground troops. They wore round infantry helmets and heavy combat armor under maroon livery. Shields were strapped to their backs and battleswords hung from their belts. Several of them carried carbines over their shoulders. The Tevéss riders that she could see wore the same kind of equipment that Captain Corónd and his riders outside had worn, a combination of scout harnesses and full battle gear. There were about a dozen dragon riders in total, sitting at the head table near the common room's front; the infantrymen mostly stood. The entire group gave the impression of having been waiting for some time. The riders were checking and re-checking their blades, revolvers, and knives, murmuring and talking over the soft click of harness and gear, the scrape of stone on steel. Several ate grapes or figs from clay bowls. Water pitchers and cups sat about everywhere. The group seemed calm, but it also radiated a kind of underlying tension, the coiled energy of a war company ready for battle.