Why not kill the dragon?
He laughed at the ridiculousness of the thought. Truth be told, he wasn’t as afraid of the monster as he probably should have been. Seeing it baring bloody teeth and spreading inferno from its mouth was scary, and it did conjure up memories of his family’s massacre, but it was a familiar kind of fear. And on top of that, raising Karnas alongside Laurel had taught him lessons about the creatures. They were anything but mindless, even in their destruction.
An idea struck him, and Hal began moving to put it into motion before any doubt could take hold. The dragon’s attention was on a small group of slaves that still managed to be working together. Hal sprinted toward the monster, hoping that it wouldn’t hear him coming over the chorus of desperate screams and death groans.
He tossed his knife aside as he covered the last few feet. If his plan didn’t work, the blade wouldn’t do much to save him. Hal ran as fast as he could, throwing himself into a desperate leap as he approached the monster’s back leg.
He managed to get a hand onto it, and from there, he pulled himself up and onto the dragon’s back before it had time to shake him loose. The monster roared, but Hal was still moving, climbing forward until he was able to wrap his arms around its neck.
He’d expected there to be a way for him to force the dragon to yield to his control, or at least that’s what he’d been hoping for. It didn’t happen, but the monster also didn’t manage to shake him loose.
“Human,” said the dragon, its voice booming out toward into the amphitheater, but clearly meant for him. “What makes you think I won’t kill you, regardless of whether your gambit allows your momentary survival?”
Hal didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say that could sway a dragon once its mind had been made up. Luckily, after a few seconds, it seemed to content itself with having a rider, turning its attention back toward the remaining slaves.
The dragon took its time, picking out its targets one by one, savoring the terror it stirred in the hearts of the remaining participants before finishing them off. It ate some of them, and Hal grimaced as he felt the muscles of the dragon’s neck moving underneath where he sat.
Most of the rest died in bursts of flame. Hal looked for Seventeen amongst the bodies and didn’t see him. He realized that something was off about that in the same moment a hand seized his ankle.
“Bastard!” screamed Seventeen, who had jumped to take hold of Hal’s foot. “You cheating bastard!”
The tattooed slave’s grip shouldn’t have been enough to knock Hal off balance, but dragon tipped sideways, picking that moment to make another attempt at bucking him off. He fell to the ground beside Seventeen, and immediately scrambled to his feet.
The other slave was bigger than he was, and Hal had never had much skill when it came to hand to hand fighting. He managed to keep his guard up, blocking Seventeen’s first punch. The tattooed slave threw a quick jab and followed it up with a kick.
Hal took a step back and almost tripped over a corpse. Seventeen charged him, taking advantage of him being off balance and tackling him to the ground. Hal’s head hit against the dirt, which stressed his earlier head injury and sent enough pain flooding his system to make his eyes tear up.
He’s going to win. He fights dirty, and he’s stronger than me.
Hal decided that he could fight dirty, too. He owed it to Thirty, and to Laurel, back on the homestead. Most of all, he owed it to himself. The dragon let out a bellowing roar that sounded a bit like laugh, and Seventeen flinched slightly.
Hal pulled one of his hands free and jabbed a finger in Seventeen’s eye with all the strength he could muster. The other slave howled and shielded his face. Hal flipped Seventeen underneath him, interlaced his fingers into a single fist, and began bludgeoning down on his head, over and over again.
“It is over, human,” said the dragon. “Bask in the smell of your victory.”
Seventeen’s face was unrecognizable, a mess of blood, flecks of bone, and dark ichor. Hal’s hands were caked with the fluid of his handiwork, and they wouldn’t stop shaking. He slowly stood to his feet. All of the crystal lamps in the amphitheater were flashing on and off. After a couple of seconds, he heard a reedy voice coming from one of the crystals in his harness.
“Participant fifty-seven, you have won this year’s Dragongrounds!” said the Event Master. “You bring honor and credit to your master through your success.”
Around him, the amphitheater was burning. The area had a reddish orange color to it from the fire, and Hal couldn’t get the smell of cooking flesh out of his nostrils. Nobody was left alive to scream in pain, and the silence was almost deafening.
The dragon did not give him the option of riding on its back. It’s claw swiped him once, knocking him to the ground. For a brief momentum, Hal wondered if it had all been a ruse, a way of setting them up to kill each other over the false promise of being allowed to survive.
Does it even matter if it was?
The dragon’s claw settled over him and closed, but not all the way. It took Hal into its grip, much as Aangavar had, back on his family’s estate, and then with a flap of its wings, they were both airborne. It was undignified and a little terrifying, but to a far lesser extent than what he’d just been through.
It was still night when they arrived back, and the lights of the Upper Realm were almost mesmerizing enough to make Hal forget what a heartless place it was. The dragon descended on the landing strip and unceremoniously dropped him on the ground.
“Belikar, you could have used a carriage,” said the Event Master. “I’m sure he would have appreciated it.”
The dragon let out a bored roar and took to the sky again. Hal felt the Event Master helping him to his feet. It took every ounce of willpower he had to not go for the man’s throat.
He wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting. A small crowd of elves formed around Hal, many of them reaching their hands out to touch his hair or shouting questions at them. The Event Master made a halfhearted attempt at shooing them away but seemed to be enjoying the attention vicariously.
“You’ll have many new options and opportunities, young man,” said the Event Master. “You caused quite the stir with your victory. Of course, you’ll need to discuss it all with your master, first.”
A feminine figure pushed her way through the crowd. Hal cringed. His stomach twisted into a knot at the idea of going back to the Edge Hive, and stepping neatly into the humiliating circumstances of his earlier captivity.
It was not Lady Katara who pushed her way past the onlookers. Hal stared at Zoria’s face in confusion. He shook his head, lacking any other appropriate reaction. She had a wide, wolfish smile on her face, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before saying anything.
“You did amazing!” she said. “Hal… you are something special. This goes above and beyond what I ever expected from you.”
She met his eyes, reached out, and squeezed his hands. Hal still didn’t know what to say.
“Zoria,” he muttered. “I’m a slave. I…”
“You’re not just a slave,” said Zoria. “You’re my slave. I bought you early in the day yesterday, when the odds on you to win were on a serious downward spike.”
Hal stared at her, dumbfounded. He felt relief wash over him in a wave, and almost collapsed to his knees.
“You’ll help me get back to the surface, then?” he asked.
Zoria was still smiling at him. She didn’t answer his question.
INTERLUDE
The sun-scorched sand hissed slightly as Mauve sank his boot into another step. He wiped sweat away from his forehead, scanning the horizon for the hundredth time that hour.
“See anything?” asked Madina, coming up beside him. They were heading east, which left the setting sun at their backs. All of their shadows looked like long, dark caricatures, the only things marring the yellow of sand, dunes and desert for miles around.
“Yeah,” said Mauve. “But I’m not sure
what.”
Voiceman Jonah caught up with them, flanked by his aide, Kaia. Behind them were a half dozen armed soldiers, warriors and scouts paid for by Mauve and Jonah, along with a sand sled drawn by two sturdy desert oxen. They were hoping to be reimbursed for the cost of all of it on their return by the Collected Provinces travel discretionary fund. Assuming they returned.
They’d brought along enough supplies to last a month, and they were just over two weeks into their journey, still hoping to reach the end of the desert. Any respite would do, at this point. Their supplies were dwindling fast, water more than food, and the shortage was taking morale down along with it.
The route they were following took them along the ancient “Sand Way”, a river which had once connected the far-flung province of Krestia to the rest of the Collected Provinces. The water had dried up centuries earlier, but the empty river bed made as good of a trail as they could hope for, saving them from having to hike over dunes and around the random cliff edges scattered through the desert.
“There,” said Jonah. “I can see something!”
It looked like a smudge, almost hidden by the waves of heat in the distance. They continued toward it at a steady rate, until they’d finally drawn close enough for Mauve to make out what they were seeing.
“That’s water,” he said. “Thank the world.”
He laughed, and Madina took his hand into hers and gave it a tight squeeze. The oasis wasn’t large, maybe the size of a small pond, but greenery had taken route around it, emphasizing its value. Mauve ordered one of the soldiers to set about refilling their water-skins before they did anything else.
“How much further do you think it is?” asked Jonah. “Should we turn back?”
Mauve shook his head. “No. We’ve come this far. The desert can’t go on forever. We’ll make it.”
He wished that he felt as confident on the inside as his words implied. The other voicemen had refused to consider his expedition request partially for this very reason. Of course, Mauve was still contending with the aftermath of his outburst against Voiceman Deliant, but many of his fellow lawmakers were convinced that Krestia was no more.
Even Mauve had to admit that it was a fair assumption. The desert which had, for the past century, slowly been encroaching onto the territory of the Collected Provinces, could have first spread across the lost, seventh province.
But the dragons had to have come from somewhere. His own faith was unshakeable, but he knew that sooner or later, the others would begin to give up. The oasis was a boon, and would buy them at least another week, given that they could always turn back to it if they plotted their course carefully enough.
“You’re quiet,” said Madina, drawing up next to him. “What’s on your mind?”
She wore a thin white traveling gown, low cut in the front and barely long enough to cover the tantalizing sections of her upper legs. Her exposed skin was smeared with sun balm to prevent burns, but she’d still taken on a deeper tan in the past weeks. Her hair was loose about the shoulders, and overall, she looked as stunning as Mauve had ever seen her.
“I’m just thinking,” said Mauve. “It’s been a long journey. I feel like we’re close.”
He ran a hand across his chin, wincing as his fingers made contact with his scars. The sun made them feel more sensitive than they otherwise would have. Madina passed him a full water-skin, and he took a long drink from it.
“We haven’t talked much about what happens when we get there,” said Madina.
“We look for answers,” said Mauve. “I can’t promise what form they’ll take. But this... If wherever we’re headed is where those monsters came from, we’ll be able to understand more about why it happened.”
At least, so he hoped. His worst fears were of heading back to the Collected Provinces with no answers and nothing to show for the government money he’d used on the expedition. They needed to make it to Krestia. If it was still inhabited, they would at least be able to come back with news of the land, even if Mauve didn’t make forward progress on realizing his revenge.
“Would it be alright if we used some of the water for bathing?” asked Kaia.
Mauve looked over at her. She was the same aide who’d interrupted the fun he and Madina, barging into his office while hijinks were happening under his desk. She was cute, in a mousy sort of way, with a pretty face, dark brown hair, and petite features. She wore a gown similar to the one Madina had on, but hers was pale blue.
“That’s fine,” said Mauve. “But don’t bathe in the spring itself. Use the water from it to clean yourself off.”
Kaia pouted a little bit. “Fine,” she said. “Madina? Care to join me?”
Madina smiled and gave a nod. She and Kaia headed over to grab one of the filled waterskins lying beside the spring, leaving Mauve alone with Jonah.
“It may be time for us to turn back,” said Jonah. “I was as curious as you were to see what might await us across the desert. But it seems as though no such destination awaits, my friend. The desert could very well stretch all the way to the far coast.”
“Or,” said Mauve, “It could end long before. There’s no way for us to tell, other than to continue. I plan to, at least. You’re welcome to take one of the sleds and half of our personnel if you’re interested in abandoning our expedition.”
Jonah didn’t reply. Mauve thought he’d struck a nerve with the man until he glanced over at him and saw where his attention was focused.
Madina and Kaia had found a spot behind a patch of leafy plants with wide leaves. It was high enough to offer them some privacy, but not nearly dense enough to completely obscure their bodies behind it. Both of the women had stripped their gowns off, and were unaware of how visible they were as they poured water over themselves, scrubbing off sand and the remnants of sun balm.
Madina was the more endowed of the two, and she took her time as she ran her hands over her breasts and through her hair. Kaia was slender, but still very attractive, with perky breasts dotted with brown nipples, and a surprising amount of curve in her buttocks.
Mauve realized that he and Jonah weren’t the only ones staring. The soldiers were watching the two naked women with greedy expressions on their faces. He cleared his throat and gestured with his hand.
“Pick a direction and head off in it,” Mauve ordered. “It’s not unlikely that there are other water sources nearby, or even settlements. We’re resting here, but that doesn’t mean we’re letting our guard down.”
The soldiers saluted, a few of the grumbling under their breath, and headed off. Mauve turned back to the women in time to see Madina looking his way through a gap in the foliage. She held an arm over her breasts and was scowling, clearly unhappy with her bathing time having been turned into an exhibit.
The women finished, and the traveling party commenced with setting up camp for the night. It made sense to stay near the oasis, so they assembled their simple collection of pop tents just off to the side of it. Mauve and Madina shared one. Jonah had his own, as did Kaia, but the soldiers and scouts all bunked in a large, group tent. Occasionally, one or two of them would opt to sleep under the stars, but they’d encountered sandstorms more than once, and they were not fun to get caught by during the night.
“I saw you looking, you know,” said Madina. She was lying next to them, their bedrolls pushed together to make a single sleeping palette. She was naked, as was Mauve, and her hand was resting on his chest.
“Guilty as charged,” said Mauve. “But you should be mad at Jonah and the soldiers. Not me.”
“I think Jonah is more interested in looking at the soldiers than at naked women,” said Madina. “If you get what I mean.”
“I do,” said Mauve.
Madina sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.
“My point was that I saw you looking at Kaia,” said Madina.
“I wasn’t–”
“Let me finish,” said Madina. “It’s understandable, Mauve. I’m not mad. When you we
re recovering, I was there, and I helped you in every way that I could. I care about you, and, well, you’re a young man…”
Mauve could sense where she was going. He tried to reply, but she continued before he could get a word out.
“We can talk about what our relationship is, or isn’t, if you want to,” said Madina. “I’m a strong woman, Mauve. I would be fine if you wanted me to go back to being just your aide, or just your adviser. I know that eventually, you’ll want to have a family, and by the time, I’ll probably be…”
“Madina,” said Mauve. “You’re crazy.”
“…What?”
“You’re saying that you’re open to me having another woman, if I want,” said Mauve. “Am I understanding you correctly? Or that you think I’ll eventually want someone younger?”
“Mauve…” Madina sighed and rubbed his chest.
“Look at me, Madina,” said Mauve. “Look at my face. Look at my scars. I’m deformed.”
“Mauve, you aren’t–”
“One of the servant’s children at my new estate ran away screaming when he saw me,” said Mauve. “I look scary. Like a monster. Madina. The fact that you can look past that means so much more than I think you realize.”
Madina’s hand squeezed against his shoulder.
“It’s easier than you make it sound,” she said. “You’re confident. You have a strong sense of character. You never complain, and treat everyone with respect. Well, everyone who deserves it.”
“And where do you think all that comes from?” asked Mauve. “What do you imagine I have in my life that lets me feel confident? Who was there by my side while I rediscovered what it means to have character, and be a man?”
Madina lifted herself up, leaning her head against her hand and her elbow against the ground.
“You and your honeyed words,” she whispered.
Dawning Ceremony (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 3) Page 15
