Draka

When the slavers approached it was, of course, only the beginning of more waiting. They had two long, heavy crates with them, and I noted idly that they were all men, same as the last group I’d seen. It felt like there must be a reason for that considering female adventurers weren’t uncommon, and it looked like about one in four of the Wolves were women. Not that it mattered at the moment, but I thought that it was odd.

The slavers stood in front of the gate for a while before it was opened from the inside. I didn’t see any kind of signal, so the time was probably prearranged. They entered, ushered inside by two valkin, bringing their crates with them. The gate was left open. When Pot came into the camp from a long, circling route he told us that they’d left three of their number behind just inside the tunnel. That made setting our ambush marginally harder, and in hushed voices we quickly changed some plans.

I suggested simply killing the sentries but, as Valmik pointed out, that might make the rest of them cautious about leaving the tunnel. No one wanted to get into a stand-up fight in a tight space, with an unknown number of enemy reinforcements.

“Could we do a repeat of last time?” Tamor suggested, then explained to the scouts. “Draka here is pretty much the element of surprise incarnate. You stealthy folks can hide in the trees, and we four stay above the gate. Draka hits them from the air going only the Sorrows know how fast, and then we all come in while they’re trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“What do you think?” Pot said, speaking to Boot.

“Could work, if she,” he nodded at me, “can hold her own for a few seconds, against two or three men. We don’t know how strong they are, but they should all be fighters. Could be risky, but it always is, isn’t it? Rib?”

“Lots of unknowns, yeah. But that was always going to be the case. Gonna need to hit them right outside the gate. We don’t know for sure which way they’ll go. Might have some valkin behind them. Mak and all, can you hold the tunnel?

“Herald can provide ranged support from up here,” Makanna said with a slow nod, “and the rest of us will make sure there's no one behind us before we move on to the slavers.”

With our plan of action worked out, there was also the problem that we had no idea of how long we’d have to wait. That meant that everyone had to get into position, and then wait there, alert, until it was show time. That didn’t sound like a big problem to start with, but half of us hadn’t slept for anywhere between sixteen and twenty hours, and if the wait dragged on, the risk of someone falling asleep was very real.

Rib had a solution for that. She pulled out enough of her little vials to give one to anyone who wanted it, telling them to take small sips when they started feeling tired, and nothing else.

“I drank a whole vial in one go, once,” she said. “Makes you feel like a fucking god for about ten minutes. Doesn’t really mix well with plans and ambushes. Unless the plan is ‘Run in, kill three of them, then die’. And the crash if you take too much at once is vicious.”

Then, with everyone in position and properly stimulated, we waited.

An eternity later Tamor, closest to the gate, signalled that something was happening. I had posted myself about sixty or seventy yards up, where I could get a good run but still see my companions. Human figures slowly began appearing from the side of the hill, stopping and waiting outside the gate. I counted four. I’d kept the anger at bay while we were staking out the gate, but ever since the slavers had shown up it had been flaring again, and I was itching to go. But I had to be patient. We needed them all outside, where we could cut them off from the tunnel. And since I was the signal, I couldn’t go off half-cocked or I’d make a mess of things.

I gathered myself, digging in my feet and preparing to leap, confident that at this distance and in this darkness I was invisible. Two more slavers came into view, together with a short procession of people in simple, everyday clothes. They shuffled out, walking carefully in the darkness. Whatever the slavers used to see in the dark they clearly hadn’t shared it with their prisoners. Even at a distance it was easy to see that these were the kids and the younger adults, an even dozen of them. The ‘valuable merchandise,’ I thought, my disgust churning. Not long now, I reassured myself. I don’t need to hold back for more than a moment.

The foremost slavers were among the trees, but that was fine. As long as I built up enough speed and had myself lined up I’d be able to hit any of them, even with my wings folded.

The last three of the party came into view, making the full nine with the two sentries. If I could see them they were already a couple of yards in front of the gate. By the time I got there and the slavers knew that something was wrong, they’d be a couple of steps farther ahead, and with any luck they’d rush forward when a big, scary animal attacked one of their members at the front. That should be plenty for Tamor and Valmik to cut them off.

Time to go.

I leapt into the air. I didn’t go straight towards them. Instead I flew north then banked sharply to the left, so that I had the whole procession lined up. My wing beats were almost silent, and no one had so much as looked around. I had three beats to choose a target and pick up speed before I’d have to fold my wings to avoid the trees. I couldn’t tell who the leader was, so I picked the biggest of the four in front.

They never saw me coming.

As I tore through the air above the procession I gave a roaring screech, emptying my lungs before impact. The big bastard didn’t even have time to turn. I had no idea what kind of skills or advancements he may have had, and it simply didn’t matter. When I slammed into him, feet first, I felt bones break and squishy things pop inside him even before he slammed into and skidded across the ground. I’m not going to pretend that it was a comfortable experience for me either, but I’d healed from my bear-inflicted bruises over the last four days, and I was a hell of a lot more durable than any human. I rolled once, the limp man going with me, and then I was on my feet and facing the rest of the scum.

To their credit they reacted quickly. The night erupted into noise. Orders went out from one of the three remaining at the front, and they spread out around me. Unfortunately for them, they were completely focused on me, just as we had planned. Now, all I had to–

A short sword thrust at my neck with such speed that I only dodged enough to avoid being impaled. The thrust skittered across my scales then turned into a slash, and though I leapt back the tip still caught me under the chin. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this guy was little, but he was quick, and that stab had some force behind it! As I backpedalled from a flurry of attacks the two others were closing in from the sides, and my allies were nowhere to be seen.

Well, shit. I’d been hoping to keep them distracted until the others could disable some of them, but I wasn’t going to let myself get stabbed. Or chopped. The big guy on my left had an axe. That brought back some unpleasant memories of how I’d lost the horn on that side, and if I didn’t want a repeat of that experience or worse I’d have to go on the offensive.

The little guy was devilishly quick, and I wasn’t confident that I could catch him with my claws. So, the next time I dodged back and he came forward, I sprayed him with venom. He tried to dodge that, but I spread it pretty wide and his eyes reflexively squeezed shut. At that point it was too late. I felt the dragon stirring, finally, when my subconscious went from seeing the guy as a threat and instead as prey. I had a strong urge to finish him off, but his level of threat to me was way down. Instead I immediately lunged to my left, going for the big guy with the axe.

I didn’t have a plan. It would be a moment before I could spray again. I had no training, hadn’t even thought much about fighting when I didn’t have to, and I only had a little bit of experience. My strategy for this guy only had two parts: ‘go in hard, trust in your awesome body, and do more damage than you take,’ and, ‘try to get the big guy between you and his buddy.’

As I prepared to try to dodge around the big guy he raised his axe to chop, but neither of us got a chance. He was wearing some kind of leather armour – I really needed to get some lessons in what arms and armour were called – and when he lifted his arms to hack at me Arlal suddenly appeared out of the darkness behind him. Arlal stabbed the guy viciously through the armpit with a long, thin dagger, five or six times in barely a second. The big slaver brought his arm down and turned to try to defend himself, but Arlal had already vanished back into the gloom. I still rushed forward to get past the guy, knowing that I had his friend behind me, and as I passed he seemed to realise what had happened. He tried to chop at me – a sad thing, easily avoided – as he dropped to one knee with a weak, gurgling groan, then collapsed to the ground.

I turned and looked at the remaining man. He had what I would consider a normal sized, slightly curved sword in his hand, and was looking at me warily. His small eyes flicked to the dying man next to me, then to my first victim, to the small man wheezing and rubbing at his eyes on the ground, and finally to me. For a second I expected him to run or surrender, but then he… I wasn’t sure what he did. He closed his eyes, mumbled something, and relaxed. I didn’t see any magic happening. Perhaps he made peace with his gods or something. Whatever it was, he came at me.

The man came in with his sword whirling and dancing, but he was nowhere near as fast as the small man, and his attacks seemed to rely on cutting rather than stabbing or chopping. I doubted that attacks like those could do much damage, and the dragon was out now, her lust for battle burning bright, and it was making me aggressive and careless. Instead of dancing backwards, I went straight for him.

If I had been anyone else I would have died, right there. The guy was surprised, sure, but not too surprised to lay his sword on me and draw its entire length across my throat. The damn thing even went up under one of my scales, though it caught on its neighbours, and while I felt it cut my skin it was shallow. Still, my attack worked out. That was the only chance he got, and he hadn’t made it count. I pinned his arms with mine, bit down across his throat, and tore it out with a vicious jerk. As his blood poured across my tongue and down my throat I nearly swallowed the chunk of flesh and gristle before I realised what I was doing and flung it to the side.

As that hit me I looked up and saw Rib staring at me from the darkness, dagger out and ready to help. I hoped so, at least. She stared at me with what I could only interpret as a mix of terror and awe, before shaking her head and disappearing towards the back of the fight.

I left the blinded man wheezing on the ground and followed her. Our rescuees were standing around calmly, remaining right where they’d been when I struck, oblivious to the carnage that surrounded them. As I passed them I saw Pot tending to Med, who was propped against a tree with a vicious gash in his leg and a dead man in front of him. Nothing a potion couldn’t fix, I hoped, because there was nothing I could do. I kept going.

This was the first time I saw an actual fight between humans trained and specialised for combat. Ahead of me, Valmik was locked in a duel with one of the remaining slavers, Valmik constantly pressing, the bandit constantly falling back up the hill but never actually disengaging, tying Valmik up while saving his strength and manoeuvring. Their swords were a blur in the air and Valmik’s shield rang constantly, while their footwork was practically choreographed. Meanwhile, one single bandit was holding off Rib, Boot, Arlal, Tamor and Makanna, while simultaneously avoiding Herald’s arrows.

The man was nothing special to look at. He would have had a completely forgettable face, except that he had a scar running across both lips, like they'd both been cut or split at the same time. Still, he stood out from the others by how neat he looked. He was clean shaven with short, well kept hair, and was dressed in simple travellers’ clothes, though his looked whole and tidy compared to those I’d seen on the road. He had a curved sword in one hand, much like the one of the man I’d just killed, and a long dagger in the other. He was surrounded, fighting five opponents, and it looked like he was slowly winning.

Makanna’s spear was broken, cut through right behind the point, and she had her sword drawn. Herald’s arrows littered the ground, and she was going to run out soon. The three scouts couldn’t get close. The man was in constant motion, and any time they tried to get close with their daggers and short swords the slaver’s dagger was there to parry, his curved sword forcing them back. Tamor, with his longer sword, should have had an advantage, but the gulf in skill and speed was enormous.

At first the slaver seemed to have the same problem that Valmik had against the gremlins. He was holding everyone off, but he couldn't commit to an opponent or he'd open himself too much to the others. But it looked like he wouldn't have to. As I approached, Tamor lunged in with a thrust, and the slaver’s dagger was there, knocking the blade aside easily while the curved sword licked out. By sheer luck Tamor stumbled, and only got a cut on his arm instead of losing a hand. And all this, people moving, swords and daggers slashing and thrusting and parrying, happened at a speed that I could only barely follow.

Tamor stumbled back with a hiss. His wasn’t the first wound, either. Both Rib and Boot had shallow cuts, bleeding but not as bad as Tamor or Med. Still, the fact was that this one slaver was slowly wearing them down, while his companion kept Valmik busy. Something needed to change.

I tried to decide where to attack, but the decision was made for me. It suddenly clicked for me that the man that Valmik was fighting was not just falling back and keeping Valmik busy. He had gradually but inexorably been making his way toward Herald, who was too focused on the man fighting her siblings to notice. This guy could hold Valmik off while manoeuvring towards a new target. Herald wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

I couldn’t fly, not yet. I had to get out of the trees. I ran a few strides and saw with horror how the slaver reached Herald. She saw him at the last second but barely got her sword out. In one dashing move he stepped under her cut, grabbed and twisted her sword arm behind her with his free hand, and forced her to her knees with a kick, her sword falling from her hand. It only took a moment, and then the slaver was facing Valmik, his sword at Herald’s throat.

“The arrogant worm!” the dragon growled as I broke from the trees, its anger fanned into full, incandescent rage. I leapt above the heads of the circle of fighters and beat my wings twice, landing on the hill above the standoff.

The slaver looked at me, his eyes widening for half a heartbeat before he spoke in a low, cold voice. “Call it off,” he told Valmik. “Call it off and let us leave with the slaves, or the girl dies here and now.”

The sound of fighting below us had stopped, and I could see the others looking up, awaiting the outcome of our situation. Valmik hesitated. “You’ll release her, if we let you go?” he asked, his voice trembling with anger.

“We’ll keep her, until we’re satisfied that we’re safe. If you don’t do anything foolish, you’ll get her back in one piece.”

I prowled left and right, growling with fury. “He would take what is ours,” the dragon raged in my ear. It itched for us to throw ourself at him, but I understood the threat of his sword at her throat in away that the dragon clearly didn’t. “He would steal away our treasured servant. Look in his eyes. He will never return her.”

And I could see it. The cold arrogance, the spite. This man looked like someone who would go back on a deal simply to hurt us, no matter the consequences. I had no doubt that if we let them take Herald, we would get her back in pieces, if at all.

They were not leaving with her.

“Listen carefully,” I said in the language of Tekeretek, the language of Herald’s parents. I saw her eyes lock on me when she heard me.

“Stop the damn thing chittering,” the slaver said, glancing at me, some nerves breaking through his cold mask.

“When you hear me hiss, I need you to close your eyes, hold your breath, and push the sword away. Whatever it takes,” I continued.

“Draka!” Valmik said, his tone pleading. Right. He probably didn’t speak any Tekereteki.

Herald looked me deep in the eyes, then gave the smallest nod. I saw her free arm bend slowly upward, and I struck.

I hissed and gave him all the venom I had. The moment I did so, Herald, with her glorious reflexes closed her eyes and mouth, brought her free hand up, and pushed away on the edge of the sword at her throat while letting herself drop.

The slaver’s face twisted with fury for a breath, before he got a face full of venom. It didn’t stop him sawing his blade sideways. I had never thought I'd be relieved to hear Herald scream, but I was. It meant that the sword had only cut cruelly into her hand instead of her throat.

As the thieving bastard's eyes squeezed shut against the venom I was already moving. I struck him high on the chest and we went down the side of the hill together, Herald tumbling after us before the slaver lost his grip on her arm. He lost his sword somewhere along the way, but still tried to punch me or pry me off as we rolled. It was useless. I had the claws of my feet dug in under his armpits as my claws fought for purchase around his head.

“Thief,” I hissed at him as we rolled. “Filthy fucking thief!” I couldn’t tell if it was me or the dragon talking at that point. I wasn’t thinking anymore. We came to a stop and the man gave off a muted scream and clutched at my talons as I got a nice, firm, top down grip on his face, digging my claws in under his jaw. He kicked and thrashed, and then I released my feet, bent my body to dig them into his shoulders instead, and pulled.

He screamed through his teeth, his jaw being pulled shut, and his struggles grew more frantic, kicking, bucking, beating desperately at my talons and my forelimbs as the pitch of his scream rose and rose into a muted wail. There was a crackling pop that I felt through my talons, and he jerked and went silent and limp, except for a few spasmodic twitches. Then I really put my back into it and, with a wet, tearing squelch the bastard’s head came off in a burst of blood, trailing wet tubes and a bit of dangling bone.

I would say that I didn't know why I did that, but that would be a lie. The truth is that I did it because I could, and because simply killing him wasn't enough. Not nearly. He had to die horribly, and he and everyone else had to know that there was nothing he could do to stop me. They had to understand that if they tried to steal from me, there would be consequences.

I would say that that all came from the dragon, but that would be a lie, too.

We had come to a stop a couple of yards from the still circle of fighters. As I got up I looked into a dozen horrified eyes, and then I did the only thing that made sense at the time. I threw my trophy at the last remaining slaver, and started prowling forward, blood dripping off me as I went.

“I surrender,” the slaver said loudly, throwing his weapons to the sides. I wasn’t really interested, though I noted that there was no fear in his voice, but quite a bit of urgency. As I kept slowly stalking forward he dropped to his knees and looked at me directly. “I surrender,” he said again, looking me in the eyes. Again, there was no fear, only a calculating kind of hope. I honestly don’t think that he would have cared if I killed him. He just preferred that I didn’t. It was infuriating.

I passed between Rib and Boot. The first backed off a healthy distance as I approached, and the other looked at me with the same awe that I’d seen before. The savaged head was in my path and I kicked it forward so that it hit the kneeling man’s leg, and I stopped before him. The fury that was bubbling inside me was almost overwhelming. I wanted this man to die. I wanted him to know that he was going to die, and to know despair before I tore him apart. That’s all that held me back. He hadn’t broken yet. My claws raked the dirt as I flexed them, and I pushed my face right up in his, growling as I looked into those too-calm eyes. I got some satisfaction as I saw blood and spittle spatter his face, and he blinked painfully as some got in one of his eyes. The moment his eyes were off me I tackled him hard, and he fell backward onto the ground with a grunt.

I was going to enjoy breaking this bastard. And not because of the slaving. Not because he’d hurt Tamor and my new friends. No, his worst crime was that he was associated with that bastard who’d tried to take Herald. And since that bastard was dead, I’d go for the next best thing. He wasn’t afraid right now, but everyone has a limit. I was going to find his.

Then I heard a soothing voice next to me.

“Draka,” Herald said, her voice tight. I looked at her, and she was a mess. Pale and sweaty, her nose running, she was standing next to me, cradling her wounded hand. Blood ran freely down her arm.

“We need at least one alive, Draka,” she said, taking a step closer.

I looked at her. “Your hand,” I growled at her in Tekereteki. It felt somehow natural to speak that language with her, especially now.

“It will heal,” she answered in the same language, swallowing her pain. “With care and time.” She reached out with her good hand and put it on my neck. “Please, Draka.”

I looked at her, and at the others. I saw wariness, outright fear, even awe. Ridiculous. We came here to fight, didn’t we? What difference did it make if you did so with a blade, or with claws and teeth? I was sure I’d killed fewer people in my life than most of them. Valmik could have killed that man far more efficiently, he just didn’t get the opportunity. And no one would have stared at him like a…

They wanted to fight side by side with a dragon. What did they think that meant?

And I’d been naive, hadn’t I? That little idea of mine to be one of them, to be part of a team, that had been ridiculous. I would never be one of them. I could see that now, looking at their faces. It had been fine while we were laying around waiting for something to happen. There had been a respectful wariness, sure, even from Rib and Pot who seemed to like me, but mostly I’d been treated as a welcome stranger. I’d even started to think that the threat to me was overstated, that hiding myself might be unnecessary in the long run. But now that the claws were out… Fear, and awe. That was how humans saw dragons.

But I saw none of those emotions from Herald. She wasn’t judging me. Her hand was a mess, I was covered in gore, and all I saw on her face was concern. For me or for the plan, I couldn’t tell, but her presence and her touch calmed me a little.

I looked back at the slaver and snorted with disgust. It occurred to me that he’d both seen me and knew that I could talk, but I’d trusted Rallon and his people this far. I’d have to trust that they’d make sure he wouldn’t be telling any tales, and I didn’t care what that meant for him. “They can take him. There is another survivor at the front of the prisoners,” I said and moved off. “Get your hand taken care of.”

“Where are you going?” she asked as I headed toward the hillside.

I looked at the open gate, a handful of valkin corpses strewn about it together with one human. I felt a grim satisfaction at the two arrows in his chest. I was pulling ahead, but Herald was doing her best to keep up.

“I have some anger to vent,” I told her. “Let your sister help you. Do not follow me.”