Dragon-Ridden

by T. A. White

  Tate’s stomach rumbled a yes before she could agree. She blushed as the men laughed but grinned good-naturedly.

  “Good lord,” Trent said appalled. “You just ate my pastry. How can you still be hungry?”

  “Brat, someday you’ll learn there are some things you just don’t say to women. That question right there is number one on the list,” Tate retorted. She snagged a chair from a nearby table and sat down. Danny did the same on the other side, and Jost was already flagging down a waitress to request more food.

  There were more tables in the room now, and yet the din of conversation had dulled to a muted roar. It was much quieter than when they had come in. She could still hear sounds from the room, but they were now garbled and unintelligible.

  She looked around suspiciously.

  “Something wrong?” Jost asked as he gave the room a casual once over. The other two had tensed beside her, and she realized they thought she’d seen trouble.

  “What happened to all the noise?” she asked. Danny and Trent relaxed beside her.

  “Sound dampeners,” Jost explained tapping the flower arrangement in the center of the table. “The owner had them installed at select tables. One blue Iris surrounded by several yellow daisies means there is a dampener at that table. It’s so the less than upright patrons, like us, can discuss business without having to worry that a Provost lad will stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  Tate was saved from having to respond by the arrival of her food. Her mouth began watering as soon as the smells greeted her nose. The chicken was drenched in a rich red sauce and accompanied by fresh vegetables and the softest, freshest bread she’d had in a long time. She almost moaned as the yeasty dough practically dissolved in her mouth. Several minutes passed as she devoted herself to her food. She looked up as the quiet of the table registered on her. Everybody was staring at her.

  “What?” she asked after she swallowed another mouthful.

  “You’d think we starved you while on ship,” Jost said. He had leaned back in his chair and rested his arm casually on its back. The black cloth of his pants and the blue of his shirt outlined his body lovingly. It was a body shaped by the tough demands of ship life. Any woman with a pulse would prefer his trim figure to some of the boys softened by city life.

  “Maybe you weren’t starving me, but you certainly weren’t feeding me food of this quality.”

  A robust laugh from behind Tate and a large meaty hand on her shoulder startled her. “Well you can’t argue with that, old friend. That pig’s swill you water rats eat can’t rightly be called food.”

  The owner of that hand was a large fellow with a round belly covered by a stained white apron. His eyes were a warm brown, and the corners crinkled with laughter.

  “Compared to your food, I will concede that ours does not compare. Though, I’ll deny that ‘til my dying day in the presence of my cook,” Jost said pointing one finger at him.

  “Of course, of course. You wouldn’t want ol’ Matias to think you don’t appreciate his efforts. You might find you have no lads to pull shift one night because they’re emptying their stomachs over the rail.”

  “What brings you out of the kitchen, Ricky?” Jost asked.

  “I heard one of my favorite sneak-a-bouts was out here and hadn’t told me he was back in town.”

  “I apologize. I had pressing business and couldn’t get away until now.”

  “Ah lad, I understand. I’m just happy you’re here now,” Ricky said waving away Jost’s excuse.

  Jost gestured to Tate. “Have you met my friend Tate? She’s our newest recruit.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Ricky grinned at her and reached for her hand. He brought it to his lips and pressed a courtly kiss on it before returning it to her. She smothered a giggle at his antics. “How’d you get mixed up with this bunch?”

  “We picked her up off of the Duntilian coast in the northern reaches,” Jost said.

  Ricky straightened and paled a bit. “I didn’t think humans had settled that far north.”

  “They haven’t,” Danny put in quietly. “She was alone.”

  “What were you doing so far north, lass?” Ricky asked. “Nobody, except maybe the Silva, goes up there and even then it’s only for hunting.”

  Tate shrugged uncomfortably and stuffed her mouth full with food. Maybe if she was chewing they wouldn’t expect her to talk.

  She’d heard the story of her capture many times. The loneliness and the dragon’s restlessness had made the arrival of strangers both shocking and surreal. She’d watched from the protection of the cliffs as they rowed to shore. For days she’d watched them, their presence a curiosity in her isolation. It’d been the first time she could remember seeing anybody who looked like her. That walked on two legs and had to wear clothes instead of fur to stay warm. Despite her fascination, she’d planned to keep her distance. Observe, but not engage.

  It would’ve remained that way except she wandered into one of their snowcat traps. The snowcat was a fierce feline whose shoulders were as a tall as an average sized man. Their fur and teeth made them highly sought after by traders. They were worth double if captured alive.

  When Jost and Danny had come to check on one of their traps, they’d found her instead. The two hadn’t really given her any choice but to come with them. She’d fought them every step of the way and spent the first few weeks at sea literally climbing anything in reach and snarling at any who approached. She’d savaged quite a few of the men before they decided she was the captain’s problem. Learning the language had gone a long ways in getting her to integrate with the crew.

  Sensing her discomfort, Jost turned the conversation to the man’s business. “I see you’ve changed things since I last visited.”

  The man nodded, letting out a weary sigh. “We had too. The Order’s starting to crack down after all of the whisperings from the summer. Business has been off too. We’re doing about 70 percent of what we had this time last year. City’s balanced on a knife’s edge.”

  “Is it because of all the strange creatures?” Tate asked tuning back into the conversation.

  “Aye, that’s part of it. The Academy has gotten themselves all in a twitter, saying there has been a major shift on the magical plane. We’ve been informed that there is an investigation.” He shook his head. “Their hands are kept too busy stopping the fights. We’ve had two near riots already this month.”

  “What about the Order?” Danny asked.

  The man gave a short bark of laughter. “Supposedly they’re part of the investigation. They’ve sent most of their force out searching for answers, leaving the rest of us floating in the wind. The Night Lords have begun to keep order but only when it benefits them or when someone pays their outrageous dues.”

  The group listened with a grim silence. Tate hadn’t really noticed the tension he spoke of. She pulled the fork from her mouth slowly. She had been too busy enjoying the sites to pay attention.

  Noticing the damper he’d put on the mood, the man clapped Tate on the shoulder and said, “Since you enjoy my cooking so much I’ll throw in dessert for free and tell you you’re welcome any time in Ricky’s kitchen free of charge.”

  “That’s nice of you, but I couldn’t impose on you like that,” Tate demurred.

  “Nonsense,” he said with an expansive wave of his arms. “Any friend of Jost’s is a friend of mine. He saved my life once, you know.”

  “Really?” Tate asked. She shot a glance at Jost. “I’d really like to hear that story some day.”

  Jost grinned at her but shook his head. “Perhaps some other time. Today we celebrate, because tomorrow the Marauder sails with the morning tide.”

  Trent’s mouth dropped open, and even Danny looked surprised at their captain’s news. Ricky sighed and shook his head. He said his goodbyes and after a few more minutes of idle chat, bid them safe journey. With surprising agility for such a big man, he made his way back to the kitchen, hopefully for the dessert he�
�d promised them.

  “So soon? I thought we’d be here another week.” Tate bit her lip nervously. The food she’d eaten twisted in her stomach.

  She hadn’t finished making plans. She wasn’t ready. She’d been counting on that week to get everything into place. Why now? Her earlier paranoia came back full force. Was Jost trying to stop her?

  “We picked up another contract that requires us to leave immediately,” he said, his eyes steady on Tate’s. “I’d hoped to be here a little longer, but business awaits. Ryu will be staying behind to take care of other matters.”

  Tate ducked her head and scraped her spoon along her plate. She’d already eaten everything. All that remained was some of the broth.

  What was she going to do? Did she take the chance and leave, knowing Ryu was lurking somewhere in the city? Or did she try to make it to the next port? It’d be dangerous, but she’d made it eight months, a few more weeks shouldn’t be too bad. She’d just make sure she was extra careful— keep either Danny or Riply around her at all times.

  Tate liked that plan. Aurelia was nice, but she didn’t want to run around without having some form of a plan.

  Trent stuffed his mouth with a piece of bread, his cheeks bulging out like a chipmunk’s. He looked even more disappointed in the turn of events than Tate. Danny took a long sip of his beer and shot a glance at Jost whose laugh boomed out of his chest. If there hadn’t been a noise dampener at their table, they’d probably have drawn the notice of the entire tavern.

  “Don’t look so glum. We’ll circle back to Aurelia in a few week’s time,” he told them.

  “It won’t be the same,” Trent muttered. “The Donza Festival will be over.”

  A steely glint came into Jost’s eye. He didn’t tolerate insubordination. From anyone. Ever. “Oh?” he asked arching one brow. His voice had taken on that quiet lethality it sometimes had when he was angered.

  Trent didn’t say anything else and kept his gaze focused on his hands.

  “Is there a problem, boy?” Jost asked.

  Trent shook his head and said in a small voice, “No, sir.”

  “Good.” Jost looked over at the rest of them. “This is a ship, and though I allow some leeway, I will not tolerate anyone questioning my orders. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” they chorused.

  Danny patted Trent on the shoulder in commiseration. It was never fun to receive a dressing down in public. Though Jost was relaxed as captains went, he was not a friend, and Trent had made a mistake in thinking he could speak to him as one. The discipline and morale of the ship required that Jost maintain its hierarchy.

  “Enough about business,” Jost said gesturing a serving wench over. “Get us a round of Flaming Crickets.”

  “Oh boy,” Tate muttered. It was going to be an interesting night.

  Chapter Four

  The flaming drinks were just the first of many. When Jost climbed on top of the bar to sing a ribald version of Rosy’s Fancy, the rest held a mug up and sang along on the chorus. More and more crewmembers filtered in as the night past until they made up the majority of the patrons.

  Someone got a knife-throwing contest started, and they devised a drinking game off of it. Tate had already downed two Flaming Crickets and one Painted Nipple, a sweet concoction Riply had dared her to drink. She smacked her lips; that last one had been pretty tasty.

  Warmth from the alcohol stole through her limbs. She tapped her nose. “Numb!”

  She shook her head when someone tried to push another drink into her hand and instead stumbled to the bar to ask for some water. The tip of her nose was her barometer as to how drunk she was. When it went numb, it meant she had bypassed tipsy and settled on stone cold drunk.

  The cold water felt good going down her throat.

  The world swayed and tipped. She blinked and realized she’d put her head down on the counter and stood up. Time to get some fresh air.

  “You alright?” Riply shouted.

  She nodded. “Just need some air.”

  Tate opened the first door she found, making her way down a small hallway and out the kitchen. She breathed in deep when she made it to the alley. The quiet there was almost blissful.

  A stray breeze flowed across her skin. The night’s cool air made it clear fall was right around the corner.

  There was a clatter as someone kicked one of the trash bins. Tate stole a glance and immediately turned to hurry back into the inn. A leering man blocked her way, almost blotting out the warm glow of the inn’s light. His four companions had fanned out on both sides of the alley, trapping her between them.

  “I thought you were going to give me time to leave?” Tate said tersely. She was scared, the alcohol she’d drunk roiling uneasily in her stomach.

  “We changed our mind.” Tate recognized the speaker. He’d been the ringleader the last time they’d tried to attack her. She’d seen him on the crew but most of the senior members were pretty rough with him, giving him the worst jobs and heckling him when he screwed up. He’d decided that that was her fault especially since those same crew members had shown her the ropes and praised her when she did well. “We decided we didn’t want to lose this chance to have a little fun.”

  Tate couldn’t believe she’d once felt sorry for the little shit.

  “How brave,” she sneered. “Five against one.”

  Last time there had only been three, and she’d barely managed to get away. She didn’t know how she’d escape this time.

  “Are you sure about this?” one of them asked nervously. “Riply and Danny won’t be happy if she’s hurt. They’ve given her their protection.”

  “I don’t care about those pussy whipped louts,” the leader snapped.

  “I’ve always wondered what she’d be like,” the leering man said grabbing his crotch.

  Tate slid further away from him. Over her dead body.

  She snapped out two of the knives she’d begun carrying everywhere she went. Tate couldn’t believe that after she’d resolved to stick close to her friends she’d let herself get caught in the open like this. Of all the boneheaded mistakes to make.

  She relaxed into her stance, expanding her focus so she could be ready to move at any time. She swayed a little, still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

  “Pin her arms first,” the leader advised. “She’s good with a knife.”

  Five against one. This time, when she put one down, she had to make sure he stayed down. No mercy. It was the only way to survive.

  Two of them had started moving closer. Darting in and out of her range. Testing her. She swept out with one knife opening a small slice on one of her attackers arms and glided out of his range before he could retaliate. His cry of pain was her reward.

  The other whore’s son barreled into her. She sidestepped and plowed one blade into his back. It caught on bone and refused to come back out. Tate released it and moved to meet the next attack. It never came.

  Ryu stood with his back to her. She hadn’t even seen him arrive. Her breath caught on a sob of relief. She’d never been so glad to see the man in her life.

  “What’s this?” he asked lightly. “Does Jost know you’re attacking a member of his crew?”

  “What makes you think we’re attacking her?” one asked. “We’re the ones with injuries.”

  “Five against one,” Ryu said, eyeing them like they were a puzzling new specie of insect. His eyes had taken on a strange light. He looked almost hungry. “I hardly see Tate taking on those odds. Now, why were you attacking crew?”

  Only four remained. The one who’d asked after Danny and Riply had already disappeared.

  “We were practicing knife fighting, sir,” the leader said. “Isn’t that right, Tate?”

  All eyes turned towards her. One of the knives was still clutched in her hands, her posture defensive. She swallowed. “Yeah, sure.”

  Ryu snorted. He obviously didn’t believe her, but he waved for them to leave anyway. Watching them cre
ep off dragging their wounded friend behind them, Tate wished she could leave too. Ryu had refused to let her move when she tried.

  She didn’t really want to try to explain what had happened.

  “Knife fighting?” he asked, folding his arms.

  She tucked her chin and focused on placing her knife back in its hidden sheath. Its twin was still in her attacker’s back. Luckily, she carried more than two knives on her at all times, just for situations like these.

  “Tate? What was that?”

  “I’m not feeling so good.”

  “Don’t think you can get out of this with that excuse.”

  She leaned over and puked as he stepped towards her. All the liquid in her stomach came gushing out, some of it landing on his boots.

  There was a weary sigh above her head and then cool hands reached to pull her hair back from her face. “We’ll talk about this later then.”

  Sleep refused to come. Ryu had helped her back up to her room after she’d finished thoroughly embarrassing herself.

  Danny and Riply had made a point of stopping in and seeing how she was faring, after having heard about her troubles from Ryu. Both obviously felt guilty about not being there. Nobody believed the story that they were practicing knife fighting.

  “I was going to give this to you later, but considering what’s happened, perhaps now would be better.” Danny grabbed Tate’s hand and placed a pair of triangular red gems in it.

  “What are these?” Tate asked. She was relieved to see that her hands had stopped shaking.

  Danny didn’t respond, instead grabbing her hand and pressing her thumb against one of the gems. A low hum tickled her senses and a sharp sting pricked her. She would have jerked back if Danny hadn’t had such a firm grip. Energy rose to encircle her hand, vibrating along her skin, making it itch. It lapped at her forearm before dispersing as quickly as it’d come. The gems sparked, a piercing fire shined briefly in their depths, before fading to a dull red.

  Danny finally released Tate and she cradled her arm against her chest. “What was that?” Though it hadn’t hurt, with the exception of that sting, it had thoroughly unsettled her. She didn’t like it, not at all.