House of Dragons

by Jessica Cluess

  Emilia headed up the thin sliver of beach, scaled the rocky slope, and walked into the tree line. The blazing sun extinguished neat as a candle. Splotches of yellow light carpeted the loamy earth wherever the sun managed to break through the branches. The ground sank beneath her boots as she hiked. Emilia sighed in relief. The viselike grip of her magic eased somewhat when she was on her own. Emilia had always preferred the privacy of her own thoughts. If she could have punctuated that quiet with occasional human contact, life would have been perfect.

  And as dangerous as it was to be around the others, Emilia wished someone were with her at that moment. Every cry of a bird in the depths of the forest, every snap of a twig jolted her nearly out of her skin. Cringing, she kept her back against an old, mossy trunk.

  Think.

  She went over her plan. The others would undoubtedly make the mistake of trying to find the basilisk. All dragons had a tendency to protect their lairs; she doubted the beast would stray too far from home. It wouldn’t dwell close to the sea. Emilia had spotted a dense patch of overgrown forest to the island’s northwestern tip. The basilisk would likely dwell there. All she had to do was make her way around the perimeter. Then, once she’d located the lair, she would set off a small series of explosions to draw the creature to her. When it was within sight, she’d hide behind her shield so it could not poison her and use her powers to slice its head from its neck.

  There were two potential drawbacks: she might simply obliterate the head, so that nothing remained to take back as a prize, and even if she could accomplish her goal, the priests might notice the head hadn’t been severed with a blade.

  She would draw her sword and trim the edges if necessary. Hopefully, she could get it done without anyone else seeing.

  Though the plan was sound, fear ate at her. Fear of discovery, to be sure, but also of her competitors. Her competitor, singular. Hyperia.

  Hyperia was hard and cold and pure.

  Purity was the central virtue of the orderly arts, and the one Emilia most resented.

  Snap. A twig broke underfoot…but Emilia hadn’t moved.

  Somebody was heading toward her from the center of the forest.

  Damn. She didn’t think the basilisk was the type of beast to tiptoe up behind people, but she also didn’t want to take that chance. Wincing under the weight of both her satchel and the shield and spear, she trotted along a worn path and headed around the tip of the island. Sweat was already slick on her back and under her arms. Her headache’s band tightened around her temples. Biting her lip, she glanced behind to see if anyone was tracking her.

  “Ow!” she cried as her shin smacked against something hard. She pitched over the object and fell onto her stomach. Gasping, she rolled over to see what had tripped her, expecting a large root. Instead, she found a crude altar fashioned from gray stone. Flies buzzed around some shriveled plums and berries, and olive branches with browning leaves. Emilia smelled rotten fruit and crawled to her feet. An offering? Of course, the islanders were trying to appease the basilisk.

  Something flashed on the path in front of her. Emilia gripped her blade’s hilt on instinct. Much good it’d do; if she tried drawing, she’d likely drop it. “Who’s there?” she called stupidly. Magic licked the hollow of her throat. The altar began to quiver with the nearness of her power. If she loosed it…

  Someone stepped into a patch of dappled sunlight. Her eyes widened in horror.

  “Lucian?”

  “I told you to stay close to me!” He approached as Emilia cursed.

  “Why would I? This isn’t a team challenge.” Emilia checked the altar. Thankfully, it had stopped vibrating, but she couldn’t know when that would change. She had to get away from this fool.

  “Because I want to help you.” He shouldered his satchel as he drew nearer.

  “You’ll forgive me if I find the idea of one competitor helping another a little too altruistic,” she snapped. She glanced at the empty sword scabbard on his belt. “Are you planning to wrestle the basilisk?”

  “No. I told you, I swore—”

  “Never to harm anything again, yes.” She winced; the headache was starting to pulse behind her left eye. “I’m not sure how such a promise helps me. It seems like I’d be looking after you.”

  “There’s no way I can win this challenge, but I’d rather you take it than someone like Hyperia.”

  Well, she couldn’t blame him for that. If Hyperia won the Emperor’s Trial, she’d probably boil them all alive. Emilia at least would be a merciful executioner.

  “I don’t think you were ever a great hunter. I can give you tips…” Lucian frowned at the altar. “What is this, exactly?”

  “Hmm?” Emilia crouched to inspect the thing. In truth, she’d wanted a chance to study it, and since the basilisk wasn’t currently breathing down their necks, this would probably be her best chance. She still needed to get rid of Lucian, but that could wait a moment. “If I recall correctly, the Crotian territories have mostly been brought under the empire’s rule, but there are some islands that still retain the native culture. Look.” Excitement loosened her headache as she traced her finger along a line of carvings. “The two eggs here—do you see? The Crotian people worshipped a sea goddess who gave birth to hero twins, a boy and a girl, by hatching them from eggs. The two eggs are supposed to designate the royal bloodline…or something sacred…”

  “Emilia,” Lucian whispered, but she was lost in thought. Whenever she had something new to toy with, Emilia left her body behind. It was the closest she got to freedom.

  “These altars can’t be for the basilisk, then.” She frowned. “The symbol for evil in the Crotian region is the king of the sea, the goddess’s brother. If they feared the basilisk, they’d carve a three-point crown, not the eggs. It’s almost like—”

  “Emilia!”

  “What?”

  She raised her head to find the tip of an arrow inches from her face. Emilia froze, glancing side to side. Seven or so people had crept out of the forest, wielding spears or bows. All were golden-haired and green-eyed, and none were smiling.

  Lucian had his hands raised. Emilia felt chaos behind her eyes. If she loosed it now, she might get them out of here. But if Lucian saw…

  She glared at him.

  “I’m starting to resent your vow,” she muttered.

  Ajax didn’t care if people hated him. And even if he did care, what was he supposed to do? He tromped through the forest, wiping the sweat as it trickled down his face and stung his eyes. The shield and spear banged against his backside, and he’d started wearing the satchel around his neck. His arm got tired easily. This was a lot to carry. On top of that, it was so hot his balls were sticking to the inside of his thighs.

  And he still only slightly cared if the others hated him.

  Look. He was the youngest. He was the shortest. His dragon was the dumbest (but only he was allowed to say that). In a situation with this much against you, you had to show you couldn’t be pushed around. Ajax wiped his face again, tracing the rough terrain of his acne. His hand registered his general lack of handsomeness. Lucian, of course, had probably been born with stubble and women swooning around him.

  Lucian’s the type everyone would bet on.

  And Ajax would be palming their coin and running those bets. Maybe he didn’t have the muscled-handsome-tall-brooding thing going for him, but he could get by.

  Maybe there’d been a moment last night, when they all first sat down, where he’d imagined—just for a second—that he’d finally been let into the elite crowd. Even if they couldn’t be friends for obvious reasons, they could at least acknowledge one another as equals.

  They’d all looked at him like he was some piece of dirt, and maybe that’d stung worse than he’d wanted it to. So he gave them back what they expected. Until I get what I want, and then they’ll r
egret acting like a bunch of depressed, snobby—

  “Gawp.”

  Ajax halted as a shadow passed above him, blocking out the few traces of sunlight and raining leaves and twigs down onto his head. Craning his neck, he swore.

  “Dog! No! Go back.” He waved his arms to the right. “Sit with others. Hey! Sit. With. Others.”

  “Gawp.” The branches quivered; the dragon was wagging his tail. Ajax gritted his teeth and trudged forward, wincing at the shush of the treetops as Dog crawled adoringly after. “My luck never changes,” he muttered.

  “Didn’t you have a personal handler?” Hyperia asked.

  Damn, she had appeared out of nowhere to stand right in front of him on the path. The crisp white of her shirt, accented with gold buttons down the front and embroidery along the edges of her sleeves, was a beacon in the dark forest. She’d woven her light-blond hair into a crown braid to keep it out of her eyes and looked cool as a drop of dew on the underside of a leaf. Had she even broken a sweat? Ajax slid the satchel off his neck and onto his shoulder.

  Hyperia of the Volscia was asking him a question, even if she looked bored doing so.

  “No,” he replied, making sure to seem uninterested. “Too many bastards. We were searching the crannies of the rookery just to find enough eggs, you know? We couldn’t have had a personal handler for everyone.”

  “Mmm.” She turned to continue down the path. “Well, good hunting.”

  “You tell that to Lucian?”

  Her slow turn and genuinely curious expression delighted him. Finding pressure points was the first step to making somebody do what you wanted. He drew nearer. The lines of Ajax’s palms sweated, his pulse raced. He couldn’t flirt with this girl—she was practically a goddess, how could you ever get close to that? He just wanted her to see him.

  “When we landed, you two were first on the ground. We already know it’ll come down to the pair of you.” He started circling her. She didn’t turn with him—she wasn’t going to show her interest like that—but he knew she was listening. “But he’s the one with the real hands-on experience, right? He’s probably tracked soldiers before.” Ajax really needed to brush up on the specifics of the empire’s wars and territories. “If it’s the two of you competing, fifty-fifty odds you come out on top. Maybe. I’d take that bet, myself.” He halted in front of her, hands in his pockets. He didn’t even feel the weight of the shield and spear now. “How’d you like to better those odds?”

  She didn’t move. The wind picked at a strand of her hair. “How?”

  Got her.

  “Join up with me. We won’t go after his life, of course, but there are ways to trip a person.” He let himself grin. His deal-making face, he called it. “The other two don’t stand a chance, and when you take the throne, you pardon me from the Cut and make me a viceroy of something. Second-in-command. You know.” He wasn’t actually going to be a viceroy, of course—he was going to be emperor. But if he were at her side, she wouldn’t notice so easily when he put the knife to her. “What do you say?”

  Her expression cleared. “A conspiracy,” she said softly.

  He winked.

  She struck him with the back of her hand, sending him hurtling to the ground. His vision rattled. Damn, her knuckles had to be bleeding after that little display. Ajax had a rock-hard skull.

  “So…no?” He spat a little blood mixed with saliva.

  “You have no honor.” She said it like she meant you shouldn’t exist. Her long, beautiful neck corded with tension as he stood. Ajax spat again, and it just so happened to land at her feet. He picked up his satchel. Above them, Dog started gawping. Easy, boy.

  “No. I don’t.” He smiled, even as his lip throbbed and fattened. “I guess that’s a problem?”

  She shook her head. “The Dragon selects who is fit to rule. If Lucian bests me, I’ll gladly submit to the Cut. You would try to escape it?”

  “Well, yeah. I don’t want to die, you freak.”

  Hyperia’s eyes tightened. “It makes sense. A dragon and a rider’s soul merge as one the instant the egg hatches.” She glanced upward, where Dog continued rustling and making a fuss. “Someone as unworthy as you could only ever have a fool for a mount.”

  “Careful.” Ajax stilled. She was fingering that “berserk” string of his, and if she yanked on it…

  She sneered. “You deserve each other. Both underbred and ugly to the bone.”

  Ajax bit the tip of his tongue. The girl before him went from goddess to demon without changing a hair on her head. “You don’t want me for an enemy. I can make life unpleasant,” he said, all kidding gone from his voice.

  She gave a short, easy laugh. He stepped into her, and she swung at him again on reflex. This time, he took a knee and rolled. She made a startled noise as he leapt up behind her and flicked the back of her head.

  When she shouted and spun with a kick, he ducked and rolled again, this time coming up a good distance away. Damn, that girl could kick high. Hyperia seethed beautifully.

  “If you manage to survive this first challenge, I’ll…” She stopped in exasperation, because Dog was now being very loud. “Can’t you send him away?”

  “No.” Sudden realization lumped cold in Ajax’s stomach. “He’s trying to send us away.”

  They both felt it at the same time, something watching them in the forest.

  The basilisk, way thinner than Ajax had imagined it would be, slunk between tree trunks and bobbed toward them. Ajax halted, trying to process the sight of it. It stood fifteen feet tall, but maybe it’d be taller if it didn’t hunch over so. Scales the green of old moss covered its body and legs. The reptilian feet had three toes each, and sharp black talons on the end of every digit clawed furrows into the earth. Emilia said it’d have a cockerel’s head, which had sounded hilarious. But the head didn’t look like it belonged to some fluffy white hen strutting around Lord Tiber’s castle courtyard. It was the head of a bird that had been plucked, and plucked badly, with raw red flesh that drooped and sagged at the jaw. The open beak boasted rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  The creature’s right eye was gone, replaced by a swollen stripe of thick gray scar tissue. Ajax noted bumps studded all over the basilisk, realized that those bumps were the tips of arrows or spears that had been embedded there for so long flesh had grown thick and gnarled around it, incorporating the weapons into the thing’s body.

  A few ragged black feathers flared at the basilisk’s throat like a threadbare collar. A line of drool dripped from its beak. Hyperia dropped to her knee at once, tore the shield from off her back, and hid behind it.

  Really? The great warrior was going to hide behind a shiny gold plate?

  “Use your spear!” Ajax choked.

  “Use your shield!” she barked.

  Ajax looked between Hyperia and the approaching beast, and made a choice.

  He turned and bolted back down the path, the shield banging against his ass with every step.

  Ajax prided himself on thinking fast, and he had come to a solid conclusion.

  Killing the basilisk was a two-person job. He needed to find someone dumb enough to handle the dangerous parts for him.

  And Hyperia? Well, of the two monsters, he hoped the basilisk won.

  Hyperia took a deep breath and let the beast bob toward her. If the basilisk caught sight of its own reflection and poisoned itself, her job would be easier. As the creature approached, Hyperia carefully slid the golden tube from its scabbard. With the expert flick of a wrist, the spear emerged. Step. Step. The monster loomed into view over the top of her shield. Teeth bared, Hyperia brought back her arm. All she had to do was wait for it to twist its head to the side…

  Her objective was simple: blind the damn beast. Then the creature couldn’t poison with its gaze any longer. True, its blood would still be acid and she’d have to take c
are while slicing off the head. But if she took its sight, the monster would be vulnerable, waiting for her to claim her prize.

  Abominations did not deserve to live, anyway.

  With a grunt, Hyperia prepared herself as the beast drew nearer. The scarred, blind right eye appeared first, so the creature was unable to see her as Hyperia rolled across the ground. By the time she popped up on its other side, the basilisk could not react.

  Hyperia flung her weapon with a cry. The spear whistled through the air, its aim true.

  The basilisk roared, ducked its head, and whipped its tail with a speed that she had not anticipated. Knocked off course, the spear buried itself in the trunk of a tree. Damn everything to the blackest depths. The spear quivered ten feet overhead. Hyperia was going to have to find a way to grab it. Not impossible, but…

  The basilisk was certainly not going to help her.

  Only the weak hesitate. Hyperia unsheathed her sword without pause and charged. Even now, down a weapon and with a monster looming overhead, she burned with excitement, not fear. Her muscles, tautened and trained, did exactly what was expected of them. When the basilisk lunged, serrated teeth prepared to slice her to pieces, Hyperia thrust her sword upward while quickly whipping the shield onto her back for protection. She felt the juicy entrance of her sword tip and heard the patter of the beast’s blood on her shield. The basilisk howled, jerking roughly away and rampaging back down the path. Hyperia gasped, tossing the shield aside. The acid of the monster’s blood melted down that golden surface. The shield had saved her, but at a price: the damn thing would be useless now.