Dragon's Run Read online

  “Just find Cog and tell her. If the girl is found, send Spine to me. Go now,” Yaz’noth said, and launched himself into the air. With a dip, he oriented himself toward the Two Herds’ central village. It been a decade since he’d had to visit last. If she had gotten into the forest, they would know the girl. Either they’d find Ishe or their contract would be renegotiated, violently.

  Chapter Three

  In the streets of the city, one knows that each child who screams and laughs is the product of a man and a woman. But in the less-ordered places, where humans bend to the rhythm of the land as much as they bend it, love and lust can blossom between worlds, giving rise to children with one foot in either.

  Boots, Storywalker

  Hawk halted. “Take off your jacket.”

  Ishe hurried to undo the buttons of the black coat. It had been half a day since Hawk had spoken and the sun touched the mountain peaks that guarded the west. The shadows of the forest had deepened from shade to blackness.

  A small burst of light caught Ishe’s eye before she had one shoulder out of the coat. Then, with the speed of a thunderclap, Hawk’s hand snapped in front of her face, a quivering arrow enclosed in her fist. The arrowhead glowed with the same orange of the setting sun.

  “That was unwise!” Hawk snapped the arrow in her fist.

  “Stand aside, Swooping Hawk!” a high voice rang out. “You may have broken Stag’s backbone but not mine! I won’t let you bring the rage of the dragon down on us!” After she spoke, a shaft of sunlight illuminated the origin point of the arrow: a woman with a wild mane of golden hair and skin that shone with the same light.

  Hawk flipped her spear around and held it as if the blunt end was a club. “Brave but stupid,” she grumbled, and advanced on the archer.

  The archer drew her bow and sighted another glowing arrow on Hawk.

  A sharp snick tugged at Ishe’s ear. Turning her head toward the sound, she saw the gleam of a blade come rushing up from the underbrush. Ishe clapped her hand around the wrist, driving it upward a moment before the blade could bite into her throat. Teeth were bared at Ishe from a face identical to the one that taunted Hawk, but dark curls framed her mahogany skin. The girl twisted and Ishe lost her grip. A hard kick crashed into the back of Ishe’s knee as her assailant spun away. Ishe’s kneecaps bit the dirt.

  The blade came down in a flash of steel and muscle memory acted, driving Ishe’s arm up and smashing the blow aside. Her fingers wrapped around the slim forearm and she dug in with her nails. Again, the girl tried to twist herself from the grip, but Ishe yanked her down and leaned forward. The jarring impact of bone on bone rang through the forest as the girl’s chin smashed down on the top of Ishe’s head. The girl’s strength faltered, her legs crumpled, and her weight fell onto Ishe like a boneless meat blanket. The blade tumbled from the girl’s fingers.

  A light flashed in Ishe’s peripheral vision as she shoved the girl back to claim the blade as her own. Only as her hand closed around the weapon’s hilt did her mind finally catch up with her instincts. It brought along a rush of rage. How dare she! Clenching the knife so hard that the wooden hilt creaked from the strain, Ishe pounced. The wild-haired girl’s forearms snapped up into an X, catching Ishe’s wrist between them, leveraging the strength of both her shoulders against Ishe’s arm.

  “Mistake,” Ishe hissed. Her other hand shot though the underside of the X and clamped around her opponent’s slender neck. Still, even as the girl’s eyes bugged, she continued to fight. The X opened, one hand hooking the knife hand away while the other hammered her fist directly into Ishe’s right breast. The shock of pain sent streaks across Ishe’s vision but didn’t make her let go. “At least you figured out I’m not a man,” Ishe grunted.

  The girl’s fist came again, but this time, it had no more strength than the blow of a pillow. A light kindled in the girl’s eyes, the dim orange of a setting sun. Mercy! a whisper brushed her mind. Mercy, please.

  A different voice pushed back in Ishe’s head. You give no quarter. In a battle, any so-called innocent or surrender is a future knife in your back. Mother’s voice.

  Go sort out your own sins, Mother, Ishe thought, and let go.

  The girl gasped and rolled to the side, hand clutching at her throat. A wracking cough seized her as she cursed in a tongue Ishe did not know.

  Hawk stood less than ten feet away, the skin of her right arm a brilliant red, as if she had spent all day in the sun at a high altitude. Her gray eyes met Ishe’s and she gave the faintest of nods. Approval? Or simple acknowledgment? There was no sign of the girl’s light twin.

  “Where did—” Ishe started to ask, but Hawk waved the question away.

  “Sun spirit. Distraction,” Hawk stated, and crossed her arms.

  Thank you. That same voice touched Ishe’s mind again. A beam of soft orange light reached down through the treetops, and the girl stilled her coughing to a light wheeze. Her lips pulled back to bare her teeth at something Ishe did not see. In the light, Ishe now saw that the woman had a hardness to her cheeks that indicated that she was older than Ishe’s eighteen years. Ishe’s mind had branded her girl due to a nearly flat chest and slim limbs. Her body had an elegant, almost deer-like cast to it; the wild hair was actually a mane of sorts, sprouting from her head and traveling down the back of her neck before ending its growth a few inches beyond her shoulder blades. Her woven top had a V in the back to avoid entangling it. Her pants were of smooth leather. A wide belt encircled her midsection, bearing numerous pouches with metal buckles.

  Besides the mane which gave Ishe the oddest urge to run her fingers through, the woman looked human. It could be the mark of a curse or diluted crystal-touched blood.

  “That was unwise,” Hawk said. It took Ishe a moment to realize that she was addressing the tribal woman on the ground and not her.

  The woman sat up and hugged her knees. “Had to try.” Her voice was a strained whisper. “I knew you’re not the One Who Shatters Iron from the moment you stood before the elder.”

  To Ishe’s surprise, Hawk winced.

  “I never claimed to anything but a passing warrior.” Hawk said.

  The last of the direct sunlight faded out and the woman shivered. “But you let them believe it anyway.”

  Hawk turned away. “Ishe, help her up. I want to reach the camp before all the light dies away.”

  Ishe scanned the deepening shadows, noting that Blinky had disappeared from Hawk’s back. “Can she do that again?”

  “Not till morning.” The hunter gave a cough-laugh. “You’re safe till then.”

  Ishe looked between the two, but no further explanation seemed to be forthcoming. Instead, Hawk seemed to be waiting on her for some reason. “Really?” Ishe huffed. “She tried to kill me.”

  “Since you didn’t kill her, it’s better to keep her with us than let her find another bow,” Hawk said in a flat voice.

  Ishe scowled, again annoyed at Hawk’s sheer unreadability; at least Mother’s displeasure had been obvious. Had she done good, sparing the woman’s life? Or did the giant woman consider it an act of weakness? Another fault to add to the list she was sure Hawk kept. Ishe extended a hand to the woman who had nearly killed her a moment before. “You have a name, pretty girl?”

  The huntress’s eyes narrowed but she took Ishe’s offered hand. “Drosa.”

  “Ishe of Madria.” Ishe hauled her to her feet, and Drosa wobbled, grimacing as she used Ishe’s hand to steady herself. “I’ll be keeping your blade.”

  “May it remind you that my arrow would have struck true if you didn’t have a giant to hide behind.” Drosa smirked.

  “Very honorable, since I’m unarmed.”

  “No need for honor when I hunt rabbits.”

  “Enough stalling,” Hawk boomed. “Lead the way back to the camp.”

  Ishe closed her mouth on her next retort and found herself to be smiling.

  Drosa’s shoulders slumped, then she pushed past Ishe and started to go in a
direction somewhat askew from the direction Hawk and Ishe had been heading. Hawk smacked her to the side.

  “Don’t fool with me,” Hawk growled. “My path is paved with clever corpses.”

  Rubbing her shoulder, Drosa trudged onward in the direction Ishe and Hawk had originally walked.

  Hawk pointed. “Ishe, take off that jacket before it brings more trouble.”

  Chapter Four

  The Great Wyrm’s Empire lasted precisely one thousand years. At its height, there were two dozen cities scattered about the Seven Saved Lands. Of them, only Lyndon, Valhalla, and the Golden Hills remain. Many ceased to exist within ten years of the Empire’s fall; others failed more slowly, their population diffusing into the tribes or falling victim to disasters.

  Hon Nishamura, chief historian of the Steward’s archives

  Yaz’noth watched the humans; the sheer panic he’d caused by landing in the center of their village had begun to fade. He’d boomed forth his orders and sent the chiefs scrambling to herd their followers into the forest. Now that he had remained in the village overnight, his presence was an unspoken threat as he waited for word. Given that he’d been careful not to kill anyone, curiosity was beginning to war with the fear. From clusters of doorways and behind trees, and from frequent glances as they tended to their duties, they watched him with white-rimmed eyes. There were a lot of them, far more than Yaz’noth had counted on. Even with most of the hunters and herders off in the forest, leaving only the infirm and the children with their caretakers, they outnumbered the Dragonsworn two to one. The dwellings they lived in were round huts, constructed of split logs and roofed with either some sort of forest debris or a patchwork of hides.

  Metal glinted everywhere. The tips of their weapons, hanging on strings in the doorways to the huts, shining from their clothing, and blackened on their cookfires. And all of that had come from him. Yaz’noth marveled at the sheer amount of it, most of it silver, the tangy taste of which he’d never liked. Even tin tasted better, but with the still-healing wound, even the scent of silver made him hungry.

  He should stop this display and go feast on more of the Odin Sphere’s iron plating. Yet these humans were his best chance of finding Ishe among all these trees. Raising his head, he scanned the gray stone of the mountains for any moving dots above the tree line. He’d already had gotten excited on his way over, but it had been nothing more than a stray goat. Hammer’s broad form winged around the edge of the valley dutifully.

  Babble reached Yaz’noth’s ears, human babble. Constant as the wind whistling through his horns. Yaz’noth looked down to find a child: tiny body, huge head, and big eyes staring. This one had a prominent nose, enough so that he had managed to cram two entire digits up into a single nostril. His mouth flapped as malformed syllables tumbled out. “Buh nam bak ba…”

  Jealousy flared; this child probably hadn’t even existed two years before, and here it was, trying to talk. Dragons needed a hundred years before the world became more complex than food and not food. And this child would be smarter than Hammer in six years. It would take Hammer another two hundred to approach the intelligence of the woman creeping up behind the child. And then another half a millennium to become Yaz’noth’s peer. Hammer’s chances of getting that far without getting cloven in half by a naval cannon were slim.

  The fall of the Great Wyrm’s Empire had taken most of the dragons with it. The Golden Hills had hosted at least seven adults, including his previous incarnation and the White Queen, Ser’pitha. With a smirk, Yaz’noth laid his paw down between the child and the woman. Watched her freeze as still as stone. He still remembered the blazing pain as Ser’pitha ripped his wings down to the bones. He’d begged her to stop. She’d let him live, barely.

  The woman suddenly dashed forward, leapt, and attempted to scrabble over Yaz’noth’s digits. He let her get halfway over, then lifted her into the air. She emitted a shrill, desperate scream as she clung to his scales, chanting a pleading mantra: something something “please.” He had learned the Two Herds word a century earlier. Should have learned the entire language instead of forcing their representatives to learn Golden. “Never pass up the opportunity to learn something new”; a human had told him that somewhere in the blur that was the first couple of decades while he regrew his head.

  Studying the cowering, clinging form, Yaz’noth judged her a practical woman or perhaps merely low class. She wore a heavy apron and had a caustic scent lingering over her. She yipped as Yaz’noth lifted her higher to get a better look at her hands. The skin was red and covered with irritated-looking splotches. A tanner, perhaps?

  She’d stopped crying now, and Yaz’noth saw her eyes for the first time. Dark and wide, as if they were tiny holes rimmed in red. A cruel impulse wondered how far he could throw the woman, that old anger that remembered the pain crystals embedded in his hide. The Dragonsworn’s ancestors had done that, Yaz’noth reminded himself. And the Golden Hills had cut off his head. Neither this woman nor her child had inflicted any pain on him and his.

  Of course, she’d probably kill him if she had the chance, but that’s the chance a cat takes when it decides to rule the mice. The woman continued to cling to his finger, and Yaz’noth wondered what sort of verbal abuse he’d be enduring at the moment if it were Ishe clinging to his scales. Those girls both had fire, but even this woman had a level of grit he’d beaten out of the Dragonsworn. If he placed a hatchling’s forge inside her, would she live? Had he simply gotten better at the operation? Certainly, Yaki’s heart had been a masterwork. Or had the heart served as a source of food for the embryonic forge? Or were the Madria girls in possession of some quality that the previous recipients lacked? Madria’s biography painted her as some sort of shaman. The meddling of spirits and gods could muddle the results of the greatest experiments.

  A crowd had gathered below him. Watching the woman he toyed with, the brave among them began to shout at him to put the woman down.

  Now he’d done it. He’d have to kill her now. Prove to them that he did not listen to their demands. That he was not a god to be trifled with. With the flick of his wrist, he flipped the woman into the palm and curled his four fingers around her, intending to crush the life from her.

  Yet he wondered what if this woman had the strength to survive the transformation? What if he’d be snuffing out a potential family member? What if she could be raw material in forging the new empire? He surprised himself when instead, he set her down unharmed.

  The woman stood for a moment, quivering in shock, then exploded into motion. The crowd tried to enfold her but she fought them, shouldering people aside until the child with the big nose was in her arms. Then she collapsed around him. The boy, not comprehending, or perhaps alarmed with the force of the embrace, began to wail.

  Yaz’noth chuckled at the sight as his gaze lifted to scan the top of the forest canopy. Human children did not always understand the intentions of their parents. If Yaki had survived beyond the point of needing medical crystals, then Ishe wouldn’t truly escape even if she sneaked over the mountains.

  The ties of family would be stronger than any cage he’d be able to build.

  Sadly, he’d have to keep that close to his chest for a while yet. He needed the quicksilver to take the Golden Hills on so long as their navy remained in the city. The shield crystal he had taken from the Odin Sphere would help, but it was a hungry thing. It had consumed nearly all his effort to activate.

  But with the quicksilver… He smiled, remembering the first taste of the stuff, nearly a decade before. Sadly, its effects didn’t last long—his body purged the liquid metal from his body after a month—but it had been glorious to have that singing in his veins.

  He licked his lips and stretched his wings. No, he couldn’t let Ishe slip through his talons here. It would be too much of a setback.

  Ignoring the assembled tribe members, Yaz’noth knocked several of them down as he took to the sky. His eyes were on the mountains, but his mind was pondering how
best to look inside a human without killing them. His forge sprang to life, melting and squeezing metal into new shapes within him.

  Chapter Five

  The Seven were not the only Gods that rescued people from the tide of the Grief.

  Seek Fire, Chief of the Turtle Clan of the Low Rivers Tribe, Lorekeeper

  Ishe never saw the Two Herds camp. As the very last of the sunlight drained away, Hawk ushered both Ishe and Drosa off the path. She started to scout ahead, but before she had entirely disappeared into the forest, she let out a groan. With a huff, she stood up and gestured back to the path. Drosa coughed as her eyes searched Ishe’s, but she had no answer.

  “Sparrow, what did you do now?” Hawk’s deep voice climbed an octave as Ishe stared down the path. The thin outline of the man was visible standing among a cluster of four others. Blinky skittered around his heels.

  “I am making sure you do not have to cleave through new friends,” Sparrow called back in Two River speech. With a twist of his hand, he lit a glow crystal, illuminating the four figures that stood among them.

  Two Ishe recognized immediately, their rounded features and well-muscled bodies spoke to years scrambling around on Fox Fire. Catter, with his missing ear that an errant fire shell had claimed, had served on her gunnery squad. A good sailor and a better drinker. The woman, Gull, had a brooding glare as she regarded Hawk. Ishe knew she generally worked up in the rigging and had once felled two men with a single swing of a boarding ax. Her arms were encircled with swirling tattoos honoring the West and East Winds. Both of them had been given new clothing, woven parkas of dark green leather, boots crafted of patched hides with wide belts. They fidgeted uneasily with spears similar to the one Hawk carried but much smaller.