The Blind Dragon

by Peter Fane

  A group of infantrymen stepped away from the far corner, and that's when Anna saw the bodies. They were piled neatly on the far left side of the room. The bodies of at least two dozen House Dradón dragon riders and squires. Most of them seemed to have had their throats cut. The fronts of their blue uniforms were stained deep maroon, bloody spillage spattered neck to groin. A young dragon squire, who Anna didn't recognize, was missing an eye. His face was upside down, his mouth open, a line of blood running up his cheek. A sopping mop and bucket leaned against the corpse pile. The floor around it was dark and wet.

  Anna eased the door shut. From outside the window, she could hear Moondagger breathe, low and quiet. Her mind spun. If House Tevéss had taken the upper barracks, then they surely had taken the upper stables. And that meant they controlled most of their remaining dragons, all of those that hadn't launched with Sara Terreden. If Terreden had launched at all. But hadn't she just heard Voidbane's roar? That hadn't sounded like battle. Perhaps the traitors hadn't reached him yet? Didn't matter. Lord Gideon's men were assembled. And they were poised for attack. No. Not poised for attack. They had attacked. In anticipation of Lord Fel's arrival, the surprise assault had already begun. One week, my eye! That's what Corónd and his men were doing out there. They'd already taken control of House Dradón's barracks and stables. And that meant that House Tevéss had taken control of House Dradón's dragons. And without dragons, they were finished.

  She had to get to Master Khondus. Warn him. Tell him what had happened.

  "Who the blazes—?!" a deep voice grunted behind her.

  Anna whirled.

  Behind her, a maroon-clad soldier stepped up the narrow staircase, his eyes wide with surprise.

  And then the blade she'd taken from the Tevéss soldiers in the birthing stall was in her hand—reversed along her forearm, just as she'd practiced a thousand times—and she was charging. The soldier was only halfway up the steps, so they were at about the same height. He was a Tevéss infantryman. He carried a large basket heaped with day-old bread, cheese, figs, olives, and two jars of pickled eggs. Anna could just see the man's eyes over his pile of food. He was of medium height, but his shoulders were broad. He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he was worried about dropping his load. Or maybe the sight of a charging fourteen-year-old girl in a half-torn tunic seemed to pose no threat.

  Anna was within striking distance in half a moment. She feinted towards the man's eyes, rolled, and planted her dagger in the soldier's guts with all her might—but the blade scraped harmlessly along the breastplate beneath the soldier's uniform, slicing the maroon livery, glancing off the infantryman's gear, the point catching on an armored joint and lodging there. The soldier looked to the kitchen door. Anna tried to pull her weapon loose. Failed. She jumped back and readied herself, casting about for a weapon. Her blade was still sticking weirdly out of the soldier's breastplate. He took a breath to shout the alarm. Through the open window, Moondagger leapt into the room. He landed on the staircase's railing and bit the soldier's face, his lower fangs sinking into the underside of the man's chin, upper fangs crunching through the soft bones of his nose. The man's eyes went wide, and he tried to cry out. But his teeth were clamped shut by Dagger's jaws, and the sound he made was less a scream and more a whine. Moondagger growled softly and clamped down harder. The soldier's jaw and cheeks splintered, but he still stood upright, wobbling with his armload of goodies, as if trying to hand them off to Anna lest they fall. Anna put her foot on the man's thigh, jerked her dagger from where it'd caught, obligingly took the man's basket, and stepped back. Moondagger gave the infantryman's head a single, hard thrash, breaking his neck instantly, and leapt backwards into the rear courtyard, pulling the man after him, white serpent tail whipping over the windowsill.

  Anna set the food basket down and stacked its contents into a neat pile, as if it had been left by someone who might return any moment. She checked the stair, the floor, and the windowsill for blood, wiping up the few drops she found with a clean uniform. She hid the uniform in a mop bucket, slipped over the windowsill, and pulled the window shut behind her.

  Outside, Moondagger had taken his prize to the far side of the barracks' rear courtyard, hidden behind the laundry lines and hanging uniforms. When Anna reached him, he'd already tidily devoured most of the Tevéss soldier, having tossed aside the man's breastplate after slashing the lateral bindings like you might open a shellfish. Dagger sat in the midst of the soldier's remaining gear, snout extended to the sky, crunching on a freshly mangled arm. A pile of red guts lay beside him, glistening in the morning sun.

  Good. She nodded. He needed to eat.

  Dagger chomped away with total satisfaction.

  "Nice fight." She patted Dagger's neck. "But they won't all be that easy."

  Dagger kept chewing, cocking his head attentively.

  "Real battle is a dance, Dagger. The deadliest art. It demands strength, speed, and cunning. We'll spend years training for it. This?" She looked at the pile of guts. "This is dinner."

  Moondagger stared at her and swallowed with a gulp.

  "Hurry up and finish."

  Moondagger took another bite and chomped away. As he did, Anna took the steel dagger she'd just tried to use and set it aside. Then she took the high silver blade that Master Khondus had given her, tested its balance, and strapped it to her forearm, concealing it under her tunic sleeve. The weapon was slender, light, and impossibly sharp; an ancient tool made for war. If she'd had it, she could've pushed it through the enemy's armor like a knife through water. The blade might have been meant as a token for Captain Terreden, but it was hers now. She was going to use it.

  She patted Dagger's side. "Next time, we'll both do our proper work."

  Dagger grunted softly, and pushed his white nose at her hand.

  20

  BUT WHAT WORK? What was the next step?

  Anna looked over the courtyard's parapet, south towards the High Keep. The sun was rising huge and red, bathing the citadel's stones in bloody light. Other than the usual messenger dragons, the sky was clear, a pale purple with only a hint of cloud fading in the west. The Keep still slept peacefully, unaware that war now raged in its walls.

  Somewhere a crow cawed.

  Dagger came up beside her. She put her hand on his neck.

  If the upper barracks had fallen, then Lord Gideon already could have moved against them in the High Keep. That meant that House Tevéss might already control the citadel. And if that was true, then Master Khondus had walked into a trap.

  Moondagger hissed quietly, as if hearing her thoughts. She stroked his smooth scales. He gave a low growl and flexed his talons. His white tail whipped across the courtyard's flagstones.

  She thought about the strategic topography of the Drádonhold. What was important. What was not. Where the tactical priorities of the enemy must lie. Of course, Lord Gideon would concentrate his most elite forces near the center of the High Keep. That much was obvious. He'd do this so that he could control the Keep's High Gate. If open fighting broke out in there, then Master Khondus and the forces of House Dradón would face the most experienced soldiers that House Tevéss could offer. The murders committed here in the upper barracks were key to Lord Gideon's plan, but they were also peripheral. The High Square—and the High Gate that it protected—would be the center of the action.

  "Master Zar," Anna said.

  Moondagger grunted.

  If Tevéss wanted to take the barracks by stealth, to ruin House Dradón's ability to wage war, then the armory would be their next target. Or at least very high on their list. And they would probably try to take it quietly, too. They wouldn't strike the center until the edges were secured.

  "Gotta be Master Zar." Anna nodded. "Then Master Khondus."

  21

  IF YOU COULDN'T ride on dragon back, then the quickest way to Master Zar's armory from the upper barracks was by roof.

  This was something of an advantage, since Anna and the House Dradón squire
s controlled the Drádonhold's rooftops. (There'd been a brief contest for the turf when Lord Gideon and House Tevéss first had taken up residency in the High Keep, but the Tevéss squires had quickly learned that the squires of House Dradón were the territory's true masters.) Nobody knew the rooftops' secrets better.

  Anna swung her legs over the courtyard's parapet. Moondagger launched into the morning sky. She slid down the parapet's side, dropped an arm's length onto the slate roof of the kitchen storeroom, then took off, running and scrambling over the tiled peaks. Dagger's white wings glowed pink in the dawn's light.

  The armory itself was located about a quarter bell's distance to her left on a rocky outcrop on the southeastern side of the Drádonhold. It wouldn't take her much longer to get there—as long as she was careful where she stepped.

  "Whoa!" a young, sharp voice cried in front of her.

  Moondagger hissed and landed beside Anna on a chimney top.

  Below them, in the valley between roof peaks, a young dragon rider wearing dark maroon livery sat atop a small, grey dragon. Both rider and dragon looked up at them curiously but made no aggressive move.

  Great Sisters take my eyes!

  She'd been concentrating on the roof tiles, not scanning the horizon. Did she think that Dagger—her blind dragon—was going to keep the watch while she ran?

  Below them, the grey dragon growled inquisitively.

  The rider was a Tevéss courier, from the look of him. Or a scout. Regardless, he was an enemy that was clearly watching for something—but wait.

  He wore Tevéss livery, but the rest of his gear pointed to some other allegiance. His riding harness had been dyed a light lavender. His leather armor was lavender, too; and his leather helmet was topped with a lavender plume. His riding goggles, pushed back onto his helmet, were fastened to the sides of his headgear by small, purple-headed pins. His dagger, sheathed and clipped upside-down on the leather bandolier that crossed his chest, sported a lavender pommel stone. In one gauntleted hand, he held a riding goad wrapped in purple leather. The backs of his gauntlets were marked by an inlaid sigil that Anna didn't know: a silver bull's skull over a circle of lavender. His saddle rig was finely made of Abúcian leather, well-maintained, and heavily padded. A silver bull's skull decorated the saddle's pommel. From the pommel hung a beautifully made signal horn. A steel revolver hung under his left armpit.

  He might be wearing Tevéss maroon, but this was no Tevéss rider. And he couldn't be older than eighteen. His mouth was small, his eyes bright blue. Blond hair. His dragon was young, its scales a metallic grey. Its eyes were deep violet.

  Moondagger quivered with anticipation.

  Wait, Anna thought.

  The rider's dragon was small, yes. A scout, yes. But it was at least three years old, twice Moondagger's size, and—most importantly—trained.

  The pair was about ten paces in front of them, still looking up from that low spot between the rooflines, still not making a move. He was hiding here, Anna realized. Some kind of spy. But did she dare risk a fight here, in the open, for anyone to see?

  The rider's hand inched stealthily towards his gun.

  And then there was nothing to do but attack.

  "Go!" Anna roared.

  They charged.

  22

  MOONDAGGER SAW THE enemy. And he knew exactly what needed to be done. The enemy was bigger. The enemy was stronger. The enemy had been trained. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that battle had arrived. Real battle. The waiting was finally over.

  23

  A SNAP OF wing and Moondagger launched from his perch, cutting up and to the right. Anna drew her high silver blade and leapt to the left. She sprinted down the roof peak, jumped to the top of a protruding chimney, and leapt through the curling smoke straight at the rider. The grey dragon hissed with surprise, reared, and unfurled its wings. The rider had drawn his revolver, but he wasn't aiming it at her for some reason—and then it was too late. Moondagger had arced deftly up and away, returning with incredible speed as he gathered momentum with the touch of elevation. Anna slashed past the grey's wing, her dagger low and lethal. They hit their targets together, Moondagger slashing at the grey's throat, drawing blood, flashing past, snatching the grey's head in his rear claws, clamping down hard in mid-flight, spinning the dragon's head around like a corkscrew, its long neck jerking, stretching, twisting, spine popping like hot corn in a kettle. Simultaneously, Anna swatted the rider's gun aside and drove her dagger into his heart, high silver blade splitting his armor like air, a grunt as Anna twisted the blade, turning the point up, levering the tip deeper into his chest. The young man's back arched, lips and teeth frozen open. Anna clamped a hand over his mouth. For a moment, the rider looked into Anna's eyes, a puzzled expression on his face. Then he shuddered and bent lifelessly against his saddle's high cantle.

  Anna stared at him. Then looked away. She'd fought in battles before. She'd seen the dead. But never like this. It had been over before she'd known what had happened. Nothing at all like the poems and songs. Never this close. Never with her own hand.

  "Traitor," Anna muttered.

  But the words sounded hollow in her ears. She suddenly wished her old friend—that dark rage—would come back. But it didn't. She just felt slightly sick.

  "It's our duty," she muttered lamely.

  Dagger grunted, staring at the enemy dragon. He nudged the dead beast with his snout, then turned his eyes to her. There was blood on Dagger's neck, but it wasn't his own, bright red against his white scales. Anna blinked, wiped her silver blade on the rider's uniform, and sheathed it along her forearm.

  A large, black crow landed on a nearby chimney and cocked its head at the carnage. Then it stared at her. No ruffling feathers, no cocking its head, no cawing. Just staring, its flinty black eyes flat and intelligent.

  Anna looked around, scanning the horizon. The fight seemed to have gone unnoticed, which was good. At least she didn't see any other scouts. But that was no proof that they hadn't been seen.

  The crow leapt from the chimney to the roof near the enemy dragon's head, its sharp beak bobbing. It peered into the dragon's violet eyes, as if assessing their taste.

  "Get outta here!" Anna snarled, scooping up a shard of slate, side-arming it at the bird. She missed and the crow fluttered back to its chimney perch. It sat there for a moment, took a long look at Anna, then flapped away.

  24

  AFTER THIS, IT took no time to reach the roof above Master Zar's armory and they crossed without further incident. But when they arrived, two squads of House Tevéss guardsmen were waiting for them.

  "All right," Anna whispered.

  Maybe they weren't waiting specifically for them, but they were still in the courtyard, blocking the yard's main gate and the gate to Master Zar's armory.

  Moondagger, lying belly down behind the ridge beside her, grunted what sounded like a question.

  Anna nodded. "Let me take another look."

  She tilted her head and peaked sideways over the roof ridge.

  The armory's courtyard was a large, rectangular space, about thirty paces across and some one hundred paces long. It was open to the sky and paved with grey granite. Its long axis ran northwest to southeast, away from the High Keep. On the northwestern wall, to Anna's right, a gate of wrought iron opened into the citadel proper. This gate was shut. Five Tevéss guardsmen loitered in front of it. They were armed with spears, round shields, and short battleswords. Anna saw two carbines slung over guardsmen's shoulders, but no other firearms. On the other side of the courtyard, in the southeastern wall, a pair of bronze-bound, double-wide doors granted access to Master Zar's armory and the southeastern launch platforms. These doors were also shut. Another five Tevéss guardsmen stood outside them. In addition to the usual gear, three of the guardsmen carried carbines.

  The long wall of the courtyard, the wall directly across from the warehouse on which she hid, was lined with the main forges of the High Keep. Each forge was made of
well-cut stone and roofed by a shed of silver-grey slate. Their chimneys were fashioned from the same grey granite as the courtyard's pavers. In front of each forge, horned anvils of various sizes squatted on thick, iron-bound blocks. Rows of black tongs, clamps, punches, swages, pinchers, and hammers hung from iron bars tacked between the sheds' supports. Even in times of peace, the courtyard was one of the busiest areas of the High Keep, especially in the morning. But now the yard was silent.

  Anna eased herself back from the roof ridge. Ten Tevéss soldiers total. Armed and armored. Five firearms. Dagger turned his white snout toward her, eyes glowing, as if he perfectly understood her thoughts.

  Master Zar's armory couldn't be reached on foot except through the courtyard. In fact, the only way for her to reach the armory without passing through the courtyard would be to climb down the side of the southeastern wall of the warehouse, climb down the mountainside itself, and then enter the armory through the launch platforms. And that would take forever.

  "We'll fly."

  Dagger cocked his head and stretched his white wings wide. The morning sun blinked through the hole made by d'Rent's bullet. There was no other choice. There was no way to get past Lord Gideon's men. And if she didn't tell Master Zar what was going on this moment, then it would be too late. Climbing down the cliff side without tackle would hardly be less dangerous.

  Dagger stared at her. The white tip of his tail quivered with excitement.