Dragon Assassin Read online

  I stepped back onto the spine of a dead rat. It cracked.

  There was a hiss of anger. The strike came from my blind side and hit me very, very hard in the chest.

  I tumbled over the cliff, clutching the egg tight.

  Chapter 5

  The Curious Echo

  The drop was only a few feet, but hitting the hard surface rattled every bone in my body. The side of the mountain angled sharply, and I rolled and spun and banged uncontrollably, feathers flying around me. Even in my fear, I knew I looked stupid. Thankfully, no one would see me in the darkness.

  And no one would find me if I bashed open my skull. Maybe my brother or Maestru Alesius would remember I’d left the fortress and search for my broken body sometime after graduation. I continued to tumble head over rear. Down. Down. Down. At some point, the egg came loose. It must have shattered.

  Along with my hope of graduating.

  The slant grew slightly less steep, and eventually I could dig my heels into the stones, grabbing at little bushes. After several hundred more scrapes, I came to a crawling, skidding halt.

  I sat up, ever so slowly, expecting my back to be broken. It wasn’t. And as far as I could tell, neither were my arms, legs, or ribs. My swan outfit was in tatters and the moonlight lit wounds that glistened all along my arms and legs, but none seemed too deep. The biggest wound was to my pride.

  At least I still had one eye.

  That thought made me laugh. Out loud. And the laugh echoed. But not through the valley or along the cliff walls. The echo came from my left.

  I squinted until I spotted a half-hidden cave mouth. It was large, but the overhang would have made it hard to see from above.

  It reeked of death. Something enormous and rotten was inside that cave.

  But my maestrus had trained me in the carcass pits near the town of Ogra, so the stink was nothing new. Part of my lessons had been to not gag when confronted by the odour of decomposing flesh. I’d also learned what each smell meant, as well as how many days something had been dead.

  I looked back up the slanted cliffside. There was no sign of the swan egg and no hope of graduating.

  I stood and turned toward the cave. I lumbered closer, still aching, but I had enough strength to draw the dagger at my belt. The assassin smithies had forged it with black steel that didn’t reflect light. I stepped into the cave, letting my eye adjust to the darkness.

  Don’t go into the cave, you’re being stupid, I told myself. I nearly said it aloud. But if there was something dead here, there might be some interesting bones to be ground for potions. Or a partly decomposed bear liver that could be dried and sold to Akkadian soldiers for good luck. They worshipped bears.

  Two steps later I saw a glint of chain mail.

  It was on a dead man. His armour looked to be of Truskian make, but there were no signs of a regiment, which was why I decided he was a mercenary. By the state of the body I guessed he’d been dead a fortnight. Judging by the angle of his neck, someone had broken it.

  Next to him was a woman in similar chain mail. Only the best mercenaries could afford chain mail of this quality. The armour might be something the assassins’ smithies could use. The woman had been burned and she smelled slightly of cinnamon. It made me think of devil’s fire, which used a cinnamon-scented incendiary. Had an assassin used the flaming liquid on these mercenaries? If there had been some sort of battle between these mercenaries and an assassin, then there must be something in this cave worth fighting for.

  And I really needed to bring an amazing object back to my maestru. I’d read about apprentices graduating with extra marks by presenting an ancient scroll or a magic ring.

  The third body was not rotting because it had been burned to a crisp. No assassin could carry that much devil’s fire in a cloak pocket. I touched the corpse, my finger prodding the blackened and surprisingly hard face. Then I poked clear though his cheek.

  If not for my training, I might have thrown up.

  The man’s robes hadn’t burned. They were likely the protective garments of an enchanter, but they still hadn’t saved him from the heat of the fire.

  “You’re too big to be a crow,” a deep male voice said from farther inside the cave. “What are you, my feathery friend?”

  I held the dagger out in front of me, looking right then moving my head farther to my left. No sign of the speaker.

  “A one-eyed crow,” he said. “Come for the pecking, did you? These idiots came for their pecking and they got pecked.”

  I still couldn’t see the man. He had to be huge, judging by his voice — though small men could have big voices. If he’d killed these mercenaries, he was powerful too.

  Yet, why was he still here? The mercenaries had been dead for weeks.

  “You’re a quiet crow. I hear the quiet crows taste better.”

  That made me shiver. Eating the flesh of fellow humans was completely against mortal laws.

  Clink.

  The sound of metal and of something shifting. I recognized the clink from the prisons in the assassin fortress. They had chained me and my fellow students in a cell as part of our education so we could learn to escape. Real bound prisoners had also occupied the cell.

  They had chained this person in a cave. Why hadn’t they just stood back and finished him with their bows and spells?

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  Was he moving toward me? I stepped back, nearly tripping over the body of the female mercenary.

  “Why so scared?” The man with the big voice was coming closer. Perhaps he still had the devil’s fire in his hands.

  I reached into my costume, found a handful of dust, and tossed it. It was an old mixture, and I prayed it would work.

  The moment the sand-like substance hit the air, it glowed brightly.

  And leering at me, not blinded by the sudden light in the slightest, was a dragon.

  Chapter 6

  Scales and Bones

  And it was not just any dragon, it was a Scythian dragon. They were rumoured to be the most intelligent. The strongest. And they could regenerate. If you cut off a leg or a wing it would grow back in time.

  He was not huge, perhaps about twenty-five feet. He was lithe and had blueish-black scales and long, leathery wings. The chain on his hind leg led back to …

  The light failed.

  Then light returned. The dragon had snorted out a flame, and a small pile of dried leaves began to burn.

  “You look surprised, crow,” the dragon said. A scar ran between his eyes and along his snout. “You were not expecting me?”

  “No, I— I wasn’t. What are you doing here?”

  “Biding my time.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  He moved his back leg, causing the chain to rattle. “For freedom. To be out of this stinking hole and winging through the skies again.”

  His ribs were visible under his scales. It had obviously been a long time since he’d eaten, but despite that, he didn’t look weak. He could gobble me up in one or two bites.

  And I was standing right in front of him.

  His face was expressive, eyes grey, intelligent, and penetrating. I tried to remember what I’d learned about this particular dragon. All dragons were rare, but the Scythians were the rarest. That much I could remember. There was also a story you could get three wishes from a Scythian dragon.

  My maestru had taught me to be observant. The chain led to the cave wall, where it was bolted into the stone. The chain also glowed slightly, as though it had its own source of illumination. It had to be magic. I didn’t think a regular chain could hold a dragon. There was a neatly piled collection of small bones behind him that looked like the remains of children. I recoiled in horror.

  No. They were small-animal bones — I recognized a rabbit skull. So, his captors had been feeding him. There was a stack of books next to the bones. Could dragons read?

  “You’re spending a lot of time thinking,” the dragon said. “I grow bored.”
r />   “How did you get here?”

  “I believe the situation is obvious to any halfwitted crow.”

  He was talking down to me! Then again, he was a dragon, and I was only a mere mortal.

  “These men trapped you in this cave.”

  He snorted tiny flames of derision out his nose. “Any crow chick could come to that conclusion.”

  “The bones behind you suggest you’ve been here for many days — weeks, perhaps. And the books indicate that you like to read.”

  The dragon nodded. “Only fools hate reading. Plus, it passes the time. Keep using your little bird brain.”

  I pointed at the body in front of me. “He was a wizard.”

  “He knew a few spells.”

  “He bound you here.”

  “He did.”

  “And even though he is dead, his magic persists.”

  “Correct!” He smacked his talons together, making a clapping sound. “He was a clever enchanter. He told me that his magic would continue for decades … but I’d hoped it was a lie. If he wasn’t dead, he’d be getting the last laugh.”

  “But how did they capture you?” I asked. It surprised me how calm I was. All those years of meditating in a windowless room had paid off. But I also loved puzzles, and this was a fascinating puzzle. “They must have discovered you sleeping here.”

  “I sleep with one eye open. It’s the only way to slumber in the human realms.”

  I gestured toward the bodies behind me. “Then these mercenaries lured you to this cave. But what could entice a Scythian dragon? Gold?”

  The dragon laughed. “I can get as much gold as I want at any time. Just burn the guards off a treasure wagon and fly away with the treasury. Unlike you humans, I have no need for gold.”

  “Did they use sheep?”

  “Oh, don’t be stupid. I can eat sheep whenever I want.”

  I glanced around me, taking measure of everything I could see. Bones. And books. And three dead bodies. I drew a blank. Think, Carmen. Think!

  “You came here to learn,” I said finally.

  The dragon smiled, showing long rows of glittering teeth. “You are not such a dumb bird.”

  “Don’t call me a bird. And don’t call me dumb.”

  “Oh, you are a touchy little featherling. Yes, they lured me here because they promised me ancient texts that I’d not yet tasted. I wanted to understand deeper truths so I could return to my land with new knowledge. New power. And they used that desire for knowledge against me. They doused some mutton with a sleeping draught, waited for it to take effect, and chained me here.”

  “But what did they want from you?” I asked.

  “That, too, you should be clever enough to figure out.”

  “Three wishes?” I said.

  “What do those idiot maestrus teach you in assassin school? Folk tales? Lies?”

  “You know I’m an assassin?”

  “You all smell the same.” He sniffed. “Like almonds, if you must know. But no, it wasn’t wishes they were after. That is an old, old story told by old, old men trying to scare grandchildren.”

  “Then what was it?” I asked.

  “I tire of this game, child.” He raised his head so he was looking down at me. “What I want you to do is to pick the lock on these chains and release me. And in return, I won’t kill you. Do it, now!”

  Chapter 7

  Only One Choice

  I re-counted how many steps I’d taken into the cave. Twelve. I was standing where the enchanter had stood before the dragon had blasted him off his feet. Even the female mercenary behind me had still been in deadly reach of the flames. I’d have to turn and run.

  He would fry me the moment I turned.

  None of my potions or herbs in my cloak pockets would help. If only I had an acid to blind him with.

  I could slowly bend my knees and throw myself backwards, hoping the flames would go above me. But I knew nothing about dragon flames. Did they come out in a straight line? Or spray wide?

  Jumping backwards was my only option. I slowly, slowly bent my legs and tried to keep my nerves steady. “Why sh-should I help you?”

  “Because you don’t want to die.”

  I kept bending and hoping the few ragged feathers hid some of my motion from him.

  “Well, I do prefer being alive,” I said.

  “Despite being one-eyed, you risked those nasty swans. And you look old enough to graduate from the assassin school. Not an easy task. So, you are a survivor. What’s your name?”

  Had I read something about dragons and names? If he knew my name would he have power over me? I couldn’t remember anything about it. “It’s Carmen.”

  “Carmen. A good name. A hard sound in your name. A hard stone in your heart.”

  “What does that mean?” I’d managed to get halfway to a crouch.

  “Something my mother used to say. I don’t know what it means. Mommy loved her little sayings.” He snorted out a little flame. “Well, Carmen, would you take some advice from a friend?”

  “I— I don’t know.”

  “I’ll give the advice anyway. Don’t leap backwards. You are slowly bending your legs and thinking you can outdistance me, but you will be dead before you hit the ground. And then I will eat you. Medium-rare, in case you are wondering.”

  I froze and swallowed. My throat was dry. Well, as long as he was talking, he wouldn’t be able to turn me to ashes. “What’s your name?”

  “Braxas,” he said. “Though you can call me Brax. Now, how about coming a little closer and seeing what you can do about this manacle and chain?”

  “But you haven’t had anything to eat for at least two weeks. How can I trust you?”

  “I wish it was only two weeks.” He began counting on his talons. “It’s been thirty days, thirty-one nights, and twelve hours to be exact. You’ll just have to trust that I don’t want to eat you.” He tapped his lip. The front arms were rather dexterous, I noted. “Well, that’s not quite true. I do want to eat you. You’ll just have to trust that I won’t eat you.”

  “It would be foolish to eat me.” The bravery of my statement surprised me. After all, I was talking to something that might gobble me up for lunch. “You wouldn’t be able to escape from here.”

  “Yes, that’s a quandary. Plus, to be honest, humans taste horrible.” He let out another of his laughs. “Now come closer to your new friend Brax. You can trust me.”

  I took a deep breath. There really wasn’t another choice.

  I stepped forward.

  Chapter 8

  The Logical Thing

  Each step made me tremble more. I misjudged and crunched down on the hand of the enchanter, which crumbled to dust. I kept going, getting closer and closer to the dragon. His scales had begun to sag a little — he really had lost weight. I also noted that each bone of the sheep and goats in front of me had been snapped in two and the marrow sucked out.

  The biggest surprise of all was his smell.

  I thought he would stink like death. Or have a swampy scent like a lizard.

  Instead, he smelled like flowers, though I couldn’t place which ones. There were several gardens in the Red Adept Assassin Fortress, and tending them was one of my biggest pleasures. Of course, the gardens were composed mostly of poisonous herbs and berries, but they were a place of beauty. I sometimes wished I could become the maestru gardener and look after them for the rest of my life.

  No one would bother me about my missing eye up there.

  It came to me: Brax smelled like chrysanthemums. It was more of an earthy, herb-like smell. They were curious flowers that way because they really didn’t have a sweet scent like tulips or roses.

  “Why are you sniffing?” Brax asked.

  “I’m not sniffing.”

  “Yes, you are. Humans and your sensitive noses! Every little smell is an affront to your delicate natures.”

  “It’s just that you smell like flowers.”

  He looked shocked. I continu
ed to be surprised at how expressive a dragon face could be. He raised one scaly eyebrow. “I smell like flowers? Do you want me to fry you where you stand?”

  “Now look who’s being delicate.” The words were out before I could run them through my brain to decide whether or not they were offensive. I couldn’t take them back now. I braced for a blast of flames.

  Instead I was blasted by another gruff laugh. “You are a brave one, Carmen Crow. Please come around my right side. You will see the cursed chain that holds me.”

  I walked along his side, avoiding his foot. Very few humans would have ever stood so near to a live dragon. A dead one, certainly, for their hides made some of the best armour. And their brains could be dried and used for extremely strong potions.

  “They were going to skin you,” I said. The horror of it. Starving him so that his scales and skin were loose and easier to peel off.

  “Yes, they were, my dear friend,” he said. “Oh, the money they would make on the market, even though I am not fully grown. A runt, if I’m truthful. Dragon claws. Horns. Scaled shields and scaled armour — all are worth big buckets of gold. Plus, my brain is valuable too. Those schemers would have been rich for the rest of their lives.”

  “But to kill something so beautiful. That’s wrong!”

  “Are you trying to soften me up, child? I’ll take the compliment. The mercenaries thought I was beautiful too, in their own way. I didn’t really like their look though. Too desperate. They look a lot better to me dead.” I shivered, for he said these last words coldly. “Now, examine my chain.”

  I went past his muscled haunches. The dark wings were flat against his back. Those powerful wings that would take him to the air. We had studied flight in class because we had been trained to use large gliders to fly into high places.

  The idea of flying on a glider seemed silly now. This dragon was able to swoop through every current in the air.

  The chain was not much thicker than my wrist. The only thing that made it look interesting was that it had a slight glow. The other end was hammered into the wall. Obviously, I couldn’t pull it out of there.