Dragon’s Empire – 5. Society of Shadows

«Have you seen the demon the story is about?» Someone else asked, with interest, evidently someone who had spelled a little and read a few things for himself.»

«I no longer wish to see him at close range, the sun can only be seen at a distance, and even then it hurts my eyes,» Royce put down his bottle again and grinned blissfully, like a drunk. «How bad for those shortsighted brigands who meet a supernatural being by chance and unknowingly decide to rob him as a mere mortal. Wanted easy gain, and caught his own death,» Royce made a snap of his fingers as if he wanted to signal that a scene from a book he particularly liked was repeated before his eyes. «Imagine, you catch a young dandy, whisper „trick or treat“ in his ear, and suddenly he turns to you, and you realize that you tried to attack the devil himself, and you want to run away to save yourself, but you can’t, because you were in his clutches willingly. What would you do if you were in that situation? What would the bravest of you do in this case?»

Royce looked around the circle of his drinking companions with questioning, demanding eyes.

«Well,» said one who had been drinking heavily. «The main thing is not to be frightened, you have to fight back.»

«Oh, really?» skeptically grinned Royce.

«I would have used a knife. I’d have torn his claws out,» the braggart tried urgently to save his reputation, but there was a terribly sneering look in Royce’s eyes. Not that he’d had too much to drink, but he couldn’t have believed in my power unless he’d been shaken. Something must have happened to him that made it unnecessary to convince him that a dragon was invincible.

Royce was flighty and reckless, but he had suddenly learned at least one truth.

«I know how it is with simpletons who overestimate their fortitude,» he suddenly said. «I was disappointed. I was flirting, and I got caught in a trap. That’s how it goes, you see a pretty girl running past, not wanting to linger even for a moment near you, you catch up with her, catch her by the hand, and suddenly realize that you have caught your own death, which wanted to delay, give a reprieve, so it rushed away from you, and you caught up with it.»

Royce took another sip from the bottle, taking tiny sips, more for evidence that he was one of the company, but with the expectation of remaining sober.

«Ever since I was deceived, I’ve had the same dream all the time. It is a dream about her. She runs by, I grab her wrist, and suddenly I see that the skin I touched is riddled with tiny plague sores. She turns her pale face toward me, her eyes ablaze with scarlet fire, and I see a look of reproach in them. Death wanted to avoid me, but I followed her.

«You’re drunk,» the man who sat closest to Royce patted Royce on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

«The bottle is half-full,» Royce said optimistically.

«Yes, that’s right, no one’s ever been this tipsy before,» the bold man encouraged him and added. «And yet, as helpless as you’ve been in assuring us of our power, I wouldn’t be as taken aback as everyone else by the sight of one glowing eye, the one I caught with a knife to the throat, I’d tear out your dragon’s sting. Cut his throat and he won’t be able to bite or breathe fire. You just think you got a smaller share of the drinks, so you’re angry and want to intimidate us.»

«You don’t think half a bottle is enough for him to fall under the table,» my question sounded not out loud, but only in the braggart’s mind. It was amusing to watch him from high above as he looked at, trying to find the stranger whose voice he had just heard.

«Must be the wind,» he finally whispered, though he wasn’t sure it was. He just needed something to cheer himself up.

«Is it the wind?» Royce interjected skeptically. «The slightest breeze would have kicked up a whirlwind, and look at the ash everywhere.»

«Your madness is contagious,» said the other man. «I have the feeling that someone is watching us, someone we can’t see.»

I squeezed Rose’s waist tightly and laughed merrily, as if it were a witty joke. They heard the laughter, but they couldn’t see me. Because the sound came from above, it seemed to come from everywhere, from all sides of the desolate terrain.

There were no more caustic remarks. The laughter rang like a bell and fell silent, but none of those who heard the cheerful, ominous shimmering was able to utter a word. What if their next utterance brought something more frightening to life than just a chilling sound? Royce squatted, wrapped himself in his blanket and whispered something with his lips, as if he wanted to call for help. He was the only one in the company who seemed to realize that the laughter was coming from on high, and so he stared stubbornly at the ground, as if afraid to notice who might be watching him now, hovering in the air just above the heads of those who, unlike winged creatures, are chained to the ground.

Of course, I’d rather burst out laughing than smash someone’s head in, but the dragon inside me hissed. He wouldn’t have cared if he’d been censured, proud of every angry word he received, but laughing at him and not believing in his powers was a serious insult.

«What is the matter with you?» Rose mentally asked. She felt that the hand that gripped her waist was hot, not like flesh, but like a piece of iron. It was no longer thin, accustomed to the hilt of a sword and feather fingers touching her velvet camisole, but long golden claws. Claws so sharp that it was unpleasant for me, I involuntarily twitched, wanting to scratch someone. And I didn’t want to hurt those bums at all. They were just joking, bragging to each other, and they’d been drinking too much to hold themselves accountable for their own bluster, but the dragon didn’t care.

I set Rose on the ground, as far away from the fire as possible, so she couldn’t reach me until I’d finished the massacre. I walked slowly toward the drunken men myself, hoping that if I delayed the moment of encounter, my anger would subside a little and I could spare some mercy. The dragon couldn’t break free of the cage my body served, but its bony paw was trying to guide my every move.

From the friendly circle around the fire someone stood up, pulled his sheepskin vest up tight, and started rummaging through the bales of provisions. I recognized the braggart who’d promised to tear out the dragon’s claws before it could attack him. He knelt down, trying to get the still untouched wineskin from the bottom of the bale. Before we were alone on the desolate mainland, the tricksters had stocked up on quilts to flee the biting night frost and good food. I jumped easily over some sort of bunk. The absolutely silent movement could not attract anyone’s attention to me. The first victim was already mapped out. The false daredevil who had broken away from the group of companions was an easy target. He was unaware of my swift approach and the preparations for my throw, but his gut must have sensed something bad, and he flinched. He dropped a bag in his hands, and some mere copper snuff-boxes, apples, dried bread, and faded circles of silver coins fell to the ground. An equally dirty cloud rose from the scattered sniffs of tobacco over the ashes. My braggart coughed, cleared his throat, and cursed through his teeth in a very casual way, not even noticing that he was about to undergo a fatal change in his life. He was almost in my clutches. He should have been thinking of a last repentance, but he tried to gather his belongings from the ground and did not stop scrambling around until the ends of my boots almost grazed his palms.

Inwardly he shuddered, and I could see it in the slow way he lifted his head to look at me, as if he wanted to distance the fatal moment. Surprisingly, he didn’t mistake me for a charming stranger, though I hid my claw behind my back. He recognized death in person. Was the image created on paper so vivid that readers could immediately recognize the prototype in life? Or maybe it was my face that had such rage written all over it that it was impossible to mistake me for a harmless passerby.

Royce was awake at the fire. He couldn’t see me, but I got a good look at his frail neck, which I would easily break as soon as I had my first victim. The so-called victim tried to crawl away, but I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and with a hard jerk he was on his feet. Sharp as if specially sharpened gold claws stroked the stiff bristled cheek. The prisoner trembled, aware that this simple caress might leave permanent scars on his skin.

«You wanted to meet me,» I whispered, almost touching the pierced earlobe with my lips. «You wanted to see how easy it was to kill a dragon. So where’s your resolve?»

The hilt of his sword was sticking out from under his vest, but he made no attempt to touch it, knowing that such a feeble act of self-defense would be useless. Any attempt to escape the golden claws was doomed to fail. Beneath the padded skin of my human arm as I clutched his shoulder, the captive felt the steel muscles, and realized how insignificant his strength was before such a treacherous and mysterious creature. Fear pervaded his body in a daze, and I, on the other hand, had a demon in me. I wanted to fight, I wanted the prisoner to resist me, and then the rage would be stronger.

«I get it,» I grinned. «You were expecting our encounter to take place in a dark alley, in a sleeping city, but this is nothing. That’s why you were embarrassed.»

With a quick, slight nod of the unruly golden-blond head a light flickered into the gray wasteland, and the outlines of the narrow streets and the houses pressed together seemed to rise up out of nowhere like the sight of a shipwrecked city beneath a ship’s keel. Here we were standing in the narrow street, the hood of the nearest lantern giving off little light, as if we could see it through the depths of water. It is only a mirage. The prisoner made no attempt to escape, so I drew his sword from his girdle, and handed it to him with the hilt forward.

«Take it, show me how easily you can tear my claws!»

As his numb fingers tightened around the hilt, I coolly and deliberately slashed his throat. The city, with its dim lights, remained forever his deathbed hallucination. The desert lay before me again, and the same fire was blazing. The glowing head rolled back to my feet. I stepped over it. Royce was the first to rise from his seat. That was the only thing that saved him from death. He shouted something to the effect that his comrades had to defend themselves, that they were paid up front to guard the borders, but in a fraction of a minute there was nothing but blood at his feet. The lad staggered back, wondering how he could squeeze any useful idea out of his cleverness this time. He thought feverishly about a rescue plan, but time was running out. He jumped deftly over the fire so that he and I were separated by a wall of fire, but he stumbled and fell and seemed to twist his ankle, or maybe dislocated his shin, I wasn’t sure. At least something was wrong with him, because despite the threat to his life Royce couldn’t get up and run.

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