Filthy letch. That rankled.
The aroma of fried eggs and bacon made Marlies’ mouth water.
Still grinning, he pulled a knife from his belt, and picked a scrap of bacon from his teeth. “How can I help you, fine lady?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“I’ve come to buy some piaua.”
Suddenly, he was all business. He reached into his jerkin pocket and took out a slim vial of pale-green liquid.
Marlies’ heart soared. At last. The captain passed her the vial. She stalked to the window and held it up to the light. “How much?”
“Oh, for you, pretty lady, only a dragon head.”
A whole golden dragon head? Preposterous. Marlies uncorked the vial, and sniffed it. Just as she’d thought. “Smells like mighty expensive lime syrup to me.”
The captain’s heavy brows furrowed. “Who are you?” he demanded, rising from his chair, knuckles on the table.
“Someone in search of genuine piaua juice.”
“Well, you’re out of luck—unless you know a tree speaker. If you do, I’d be happy to pay a good price for some. Old Maud’s supplies dwindled out last moon.”
And sell it for ten times as much as he paid—she knew the Nightshader gang well enough.
“I’m a tree speaker,” Marlies said, keeping her demeanor cool. Now, she had the power, something he wanted.
His eyes glinted. “Can you get me more piaua?”
Marlies inspected her fingernails, took a knife from her belt, and cleaned them. She flicked her eyes to him. “If the price is right.”
She had no intention of giving this vile criminal piaua. She’d have to journey to the grove near the red guards, in the northwest. She’d found out what she needed to know. Her business was done here. “Thank you for your time, Captain, I’ll be going.”
There was a clatter on the roof of the tavern. “Marlies, I’m here,” melded Liesar. “Just in case you need me.” Outside the window, a shingle crashed to the cobbles.
“I’m leaving now, Liesar. I won’t need you but thanks.”
The captain jerked his head around, yelling, “Shrotty dragons, landing on my tavern.”
Behind Marlies, the door thudded open, and a deep voice said, “Your tavern?”
Oh Gods, she knew that voice—even though it’d been well over twenty years.
A blade was in the captain’s hand before she could blink.
“Marlies, Unocco’s in the square. Just warning you in case Bruno’s around.”
“Too late, I’ve already found him.”
Liesar answered with a snarl in Marlies’ mind.
Gods, if he recognized her… She kept her back to Bruno, staring at the captain.
The captain took a step, the table legs grating against the wooden floor. He jerked his chin up, leveling a challenging stare over Marlies’ shoulder. “What do you mean?” the captain growled.
“Rona has been holding this crew together for me. She’s done well. Tavern could use some paint, though.”
The captain sneered, “You mean that lackey behind the bar? She don’t hold nothing together. She’s lucky I kept her on as barkeep.”
Marlies nodded at the captain to take her leave, backing slowly out of the room
The captain’s eyes flicked to her. “Wait right there. I can’t let a pretty, precious resource like you walk out of my door, now, can I?”
She’d said too much. Made herself too valuable. Marlies swallowed.
“Who’s she?” asked Bruno.
The captain shrugged. “Don’t know.” He grinned, his blackened teeth like ugly gravestones.
Quick as a whip, Marlies surged forward and flipped the tray of food up at Bruno’s face. He screamed as hot beans dribbled down his neck.
She drew her knife and bolted. Bruno grabbed her cloak, whirling her around. She spun, kicking him in the chest. He went down. The captain bellowed, leaping across the table, and slammed her up against the wall. She kneed him hard in the groin, and he fell to a knee clutching himself. Marlies kicked him to the floor and ran out the door. She leaped and ran across tables through the tavern.
“Watch out,” Liesar called.
A silver-scaled foreleg hit the tavern window. Marlies ducked, covering her face. Glass imploded, flying across the taproom. She ran across the last two tables and leaped through the shattered glass, shards shredding her cloak.
Liesar’s forearm was stretched down the building, bleeding, her hind legs gripping the roof. “Quick, climb on my arm.”
Marlies grasped Liesar’s outstretched limb, but her hands slipped on the dragons’ bloody scales.
“I can’t get any lower,” Liesar said. “Try again.”
Marlies grabbed her forearm again. “Lift me, Liesar. Quick.”
Bruno jumped out the window and barreled into Marlies’ legs. He yanked her by the waist, dragging her hands off Liesar. She crashed to the slushy cobbles, his body on top of her legs. She drove her fingers into his eyes and twisted. Screaming, Bruno shifted his weight to one side. Marlies rolled toward him, kicking him off her. Then she leaped up and ran.
Liesar shot a jet of flame down the alley. People ran screaming. “I can’t reach him. This alley’s too narrow,” Liesar called. “I’ll meet you in the square.”
Panting, Marlies raced through the familiar alleys and streets of her old hometown, dodging civilians, horses and wagons.
Bruno’s thudding boots echoed down the alley. Marlies ducked down a side street past a troop of snarling tharuks. Her chest hurt and her breath was short. Although she’d kept herself fit through all those years in hiding, she hadn’t fought like this since she’d taken the piaua berries in Death Valley. “Liesar, I can’t fight Bruno. I don’t have it in me.”
His heavy footfalls were was getting closer.
“I’m in the square, ready to leave. Hurry.”
“Nearly there.”
Bruno’s breath rasped behind her.
One more corner and she’d be there.
A roar ricocheted between the buildings. Dark shadows fell over the street. Shadow dragons with piercing eyes. Bruno, lunged, tackling Marlies. She hit the cobbles with Bruno tangled in her legs. Marlies kicked his face. Rolled to her feet. And drew her sword.
He jumped up and freed his sword. He’d trained as a dragon rider. Was bound to be quick. And she was so ill. Already tired.
“After all these years, you thought you could beat me again,” he sneered. “I’ve won, Marlies. My wife destroyed your healing supplies. Tharuks have destroyed the piaua trees. There’s no hope for you or Dragons’ Realm.” He gave an ugly grimace. “Did you know my son has taken your daughter?” he taunted. “In a back alley in Naobia—and he’s lusting for more.”
Marlies almost gagged. She couldn’t believe it. Ezaara would have told her.
Bruno leaped, thrusting his sword.
She parried, blades ringing. Marlies back-stepped. If she could get the last few paces into the square, Liesar could help her.
“Where are you, Marlies? Hurry.”
“Nearly there.” Marlies let Liesar see Bruno as he drove his sword at her. She deflected it, but her arms were tiring. Letting him think he had the advantage, she took another step back. Then another.
Bruno pressed forward. “Weak, that’s what you are, Marlies. I’ll best you yet.”
He lunged as Marlies broke into the square. Her foot caught a patch of snow, and she stumbled. Bruno slashed at her. Pain burned along her left side. Marlies clutched it with her hand, parrying his next stroke. “Liesar. Help.” Warmth trickled over her fingers.
“Bleeding like a stuck pig,” Bruno crowed. I’d like to see you fight me now.”
In a flash of silver, Liesar dove at Bruno.
Old Enemies
Adelina had been silly, so absolutely stupid to flee Dragons’ Hold and race after Kierion on a whim. And now, dark dragons were roaring over Montanara, making her break out in a cold sweat. “I’ll only be a moment, Linaia, the
n I promise we’ll go and fight.”
“They need us. There are too many shadow beasts. Be quick.” Her dragon was waiting on the outskirts of Montanara. Had been for a while.
“The baker on the corner said he’d seen a green-eyed mage and a blond man going in and out of this tavern. I’ve got to check.” She raced along the alleyway.
“I’ve told you before, it’ll be faster to meld with Riona and Hagret and find out if—”
“No! Sorry, please let me do this my way.”
“Hurry.”
She strode up the steps to the Brothers’ Arms, tugged her cloth hat low and smoothed her peasant’s tunic. Tharuks roared farther down the alley. War was raging in the skies above her. Kierion would be among the smoke, dark beasts, and bursts of bright flame, but Adelina didn’t want to face him yet. Once she found out where he was staying, she could find him after she was done fighting. She pushed open the tavern door, her boots crunching on shards of glass.
Inside, tables were overturned. Someone was hammering planks over a broken window, remnants of snagged fabric fluttering on the edge of the sill. A man was sweeping glass, while men and women sat at tables, chugging beer as if the chaos of war were as normal as a village market. At the bar, a Naobian with a rugged scar on his cheek was staunching blood on a barkeep’s face. Adelina’s hand drifted to her hilt. Luckily, she’d missed the brawl. What in the Egg’s name had Kierion been doing in a place like this?
“Someone, get a healer,” the Naobian called.
“I have a little healing experience,” she blurted without thinking.
The man’s head whipped around. “Over here, then.”
The woman’s face was bloody, a piece of glass in her cheek. Adelina removed it and cleansed the wound, the female barkeep glaring and cursing the whole time. The scarred Naobian passed her a strip of cloth.
“I think she’ll need stitches,” Adelina said.
“Can you stitch her?” the man barked, his obsidian eyes flicking over her.
She shook her head. “No, but I can help you clean up the glass.” She couldn’t really ask him about Kierion like this. She’d planned to order a lemon water, have a quick chat with a bartender and see what she could glean. So much for that plan…
The man barked at the sweeper. “Brutus, take Rona to the healer, and give the broom to the girl.”
Girl? Everyone always thought she was younger than she was, but Adelina buttoned her lip, and took the broom. She wouldn’t get anywhere by irritating this man.
“Shrotty, trumped-up dragons.” The man paced, grinding glass underfoot as Adelina swept. “Think they can land on my roof, scrape off my shingles, and smash my windows. Useless, cursed creatures. And now these black ones are scaring away business. Not that I can serve drinks without a barkeep. The only good thing that’s happened to day is—” He whirled to face Adelina, eyes narrowing. “Know how to pour an ale?”
She stifled a smile. “I’m quick to learn.” Now she had a reason to stay and find out more.
“Can you use a knife if things get rough?” His gaze darted to the weapons hanging off her belt.
She whipped a dagger out, twirled it and flung it into one of the new planks on the window, a hand’s length above the head of the man hammering.
His eyebrows lifted, appraising her. “Good.” He pursed his lips. “A copper an hour. You start now. My name’s the Captain. Welcome to the Nightshader crew.”
Adelina had guessed right—that weapons were his language. But the ruthless Nightshaders? Perhaps she’d be better off with shadow dragons.
Within moments, the captain installed her behind the bar. “You’ll fit in with the Nightshaders well, Little One.” He laughed and sauntered through a door at the back of the taproom.
Little One. Usually a title like that would rankle, but seeing the men’s eyes roving over the other women in the bar, Adelina was glad she was small. That she looked too young. She tucked the pretty gold-and-scarlet dragon scarf—the one Kierion had given her for her name day—under her tunic. No point in advertising pretty wares.
Roars ricocheted through the alley outside.
“More dark dragons. Adelina, are you coming to fight?” Linaia asked.
Adelina padded over to the captain who was seated in a room with egg and beans mashed into the floorboards. “Before I start, I have some urgent business. Can I come back later?”
The captain flicked a piece of meat out of his teeth with his dagger. “Want the job or not?”
She’d spent hours combing Montanara looking for a trace of Kierion, with no results—except here. She couldn’t miss him, not after coming so far. Not while Roberto was away. She didn’t want to go back and face Amato.
She nodded and went behind the bar to pull ales. “Riona, I can’t come and fight today.”
There was an awkward pause, then Riona answered. “Then I shall go alone.”
§
Snarls and a scream came from an alley. “Be there soon, Hagret, I have to help.” Pulling her sword from its scabbard, Gret pounded the cobbles, arriving, just as a man severed a tharuk’s head from its body.
Sword bloody, he bent down to a littling with a bloody gash on his cheek. “Go home and stay indoors. There’s battle raging.” The boy scampered off and the man straightened. His figure looked familiar.
“Donnell?”
“Is that you, Gret?” A familiar voice came from behind her. Gret spun.
Under the eaves of the house, hidden in shadow, was Trixia, her arrow nocked, ready.
Gret took in her flat belly, the absence of a baby, and hugged her. “Trixia, great to see you. Is your baby at home with your mother?”
Sadness, pain, regret and relief flitted across Trixia’s face like an eddy of autumn leaves.
“What is it?”Gret asked.
Trixia’s mouth opened and shut. And again.
Donnell stepped in. “We lost the baby.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Trixia shrugged. “I was, too, but I’m not. If that makes sense.”
It did. Gret had always wondered how her best friend could stand to raise Simeon’s baby after he’d forced himself upon her. “Stillbirth?” she asked.
Trixia nodded.
Roars raged from the alley around the corner.
Trixia’s eyes swept over Gret’s riders’ garb, her archers’ cloak. “Where’s your dragon?”
“Waiting for me, so we can fight these dark dragons.”
Donnell nodded. “We’re fighting with arrows from the rooftops.”
Trixia smiled. “And I’m coating them with poison.”
Gret gave her a short sharp hug and grinned. “Excellent.”
§
Simeon ran across the square. A dragon rider with dark hair was slumped against a building. Clutching her bleeding side, she held her wavering sword out, panting. A silver dragon flew at Bruno.
Simeon wasn’t going to let a dragon get the better of him. “Father look up.”
Seeing the dragon, Simeon’s father ducked and rolled. Unocco roared and leaped for the silver dragon. Above the two fighting dragons, more roars broke out, dark shadows blotting the sky—Zens’ lovelies, as Pa called them, had arrived.
Simeon ran over as Pa scrambled up, towering over the rider—a woman he’d never seen before. “Who’s that, father?”
“It’s the Queen’s Rider’s mother, you idiot. Maybe I should take her right now to show you how it’s done.”
Simeon stepped closer to his father, his blade ready.
The woman slid down the building to the slushy cobbles, still clutching her sword.
“She’s injured.” Pa toed her with his boot. “Maybe I’ll just take the Queen’s Rider next time I see her instead.”
White-hot anger blazed through Simeon. He plunged his blade into his father’s back. It punctured Pa’s soft flesh. He rammed it in harder, feeling the sickening crunch of bone. As his father sank to his knees, Simeon drove the knife, slamming it with his
full bodyweight until it was embedded in his father’s back to the hilt.
Pa coughed. Poppy-red blood bubbling from his mouth, he sprawled to the cobbles.
A woman screamed.
“Unocco!” Simeon ran across the square past gaping onlookers. The dragon swooped to land. Placing his hand against the dragon’s hide, Simeon gasped, “My father was evil, Unocco. You must know that. I promise I’ll treat you better.”
“As much as I love him, it’s good Bruno’s dead.” Unocco’s sorrow at losing his rider swept over Simeon. “Do you promise you won’t give me more swayweed tea?”
“Of course not,” Simeon lied and scrambled into the saddle, smirking as the foolish dragon sprang into the sky.
§
Gods, oh gods. Marlies took a breath, blood slick on her fingers as she clenched the searing wound in her side. Thank the Egg it wasn’t her gut. Just muscle. But the blood loss had made her weak. She couldn’t walk. Couldn’t climb on Liesar to get back to Dragons’ Hold. Or even get to Leah. She was stuck here, wounded in the square, fair prey for the next troop of tharuks. People were staring, pointing. At her. At Bruno’s body. His blood staining the snow. Others rushed past, ignoring her. Liesar nudged her foot with her snout.
“Liesar, fetch Leah.”
“Even better,” her dragon replied. “Hans is here.”
Bronze scales flashed through the air. There was the thud of a dragon landing. Running feet. Hans’ face appeared above her. “Marlies, I’m here. Talk to me.” He unfastened her healing pouch from her waist and pulled out a tub of salve.
“Stitches, Hans,” she murmured.
He nodded and threaded her needle with squirrel-gut twine. “Where’s Leah?”
His keen eyes missed nothing. “My parents’ place.”
“Liesar and Taliesin can collect her,” Hans said. “We need to get you back to Dragons’ Hold.”
“I’m sorry, Hans,” Liesar piped up. “I’m not leaving Marlies. Handel will go.”
There was a flurry of bronze wings and a breeze rippled Marlies’ hair. She shivered. Hans tucked his cloak over the uninjured side of her body.
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