The Blind Dragon (10 page)

Anna opened the window all the way, so that she might leap out if necessary, then crossed to the swinging door that led to the common room. The door had a round window in its center and swung both ways to ease traffic coming up from the barracks' kitchen.

Anna put her ear to the door crack and listened.

The low murmur of quiet conversations. She couldn't make out any specific sentences or words, but the inflection and pattern was marked by that unmistakable western accent.

Anna cracked the door and peeked inside.

Soldiers wearing the maroon livery of House Tevéss filled the common room.

Dozens of them. Dozens of dragon riders—.

No.

More than dozens.

At least a hundred soldiers in all. The common room was packed with them. And not all were riders. In fact, most were ground troops. They wore round infantry helmets and heavy combat armor under maroon livery. Shields were strapped to their backs and battleswords hung from their belts. Several of them carried carbines over their shoulders. The Tevéss riders that she could see wore the same kind of equipment that Captain Corónd and his riders outside had worn, a combination of scout harnesses and full battle gear. There were about a dozen dragon riders in total, sitting at the head table near the common room's front; the infantrymen mostly stood. The entire group gave the impression of having been waiting for some time. The riders were checking and re-checking their blades, revolvers, and knives, murmuring and talking over the soft click of harness and gear, the scrape of stone on steel. Several ate grapes or figs from clay bowls. Water pitchers and cups sat about everywhere. The group seemed calm, but it also radiated a kind of underlying tension, the coiled energy of a war company ready for battle.

A group of infantrymen stepped away from the far corner, and that's when Anna saw the bodies. They were piled neatly on the far left side of the room. The bodies of at least two dozen House Dradón dragon riders and squires. Most of them seemed to have had their throats cut. The fronts of their blue uniforms were stained deep maroon, bloody spillage spattered neck to groin. A young dragon squire, who Anna didn't recognize, was missing an eye. His face was upside down, his mouth open, a line of blood running up his cheek. A sopping mop and bucket leaned against the corpse pile. The floor around it was dark and wet.

Anna eased the door shut. From outside the window, she could hear Moondagger breathe, low and quiet. Her mind spun. If House Tevéss had taken the upper barracks, then they surely had taken the upper stables. And that meant they controlled most of their remaining dragons, all of those that hadn't launched with Sara Terreden.
If Terreden had launched at all.
But hadn't she just heard Voidbane's roar? That hadn't sounded like battle. Perhaps the traitors hadn't reached him yet? Didn't matter. Lord Gideon's men were assembled. And they were poised for attack.
No
. Not poised for attack. They
had
attacked. In anticipation of Lord Fel's arrival, the surprise assault had already begun.
One week, my eye!
That's what Corónd and his men were doing out there. They'd
already
taken control of House Dradón's barracks and stables. And that meant that House Tevéss had taken control of House Dradón's dragons. And without dragons, they were finished.

She had to get to Master Khondus. Warn him. Tell him what had happened.

"Who the
blazes
—?!" a deep voice grunted behind her.

Anna whirled.

Behind her, a maroon-clad soldier stepped up the narrow staircase, his eyes wide with surprise.

And then the blade she'd taken from the Tevéss soldiers in the birthing stall was in her hand—reversed along her forearm, just as she'd practiced a thousand times—and she was charging. The soldier was only halfway up the steps, so they were at about the same height. He was a Tevéss infantryman. He carried a large basket heaped with day-old bread, cheese, figs, olives, and two jars of pickled eggs. Anna could just see the man's eyes over his pile of food. He was of medium height, but his shoulders were broad. He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he was worried about dropping his load. Or maybe the sight of a charging fourteen-year-old girl in a half-torn tunic seemed to pose no threat.

Anna was within striking distance in half a moment. She feinted towards the man's eyes, rolled, and planted her dagger in the soldier's guts with all her might—but the blade scraped harmlessly along the breastplate beneath the soldier's uniform, slicing the maroon livery, glancing off the infantryman's gear, the point catching on an armored joint and lodging there. The soldier looked to the kitchen door. Anna tried to pull her weapon loose. Failed. She jumped back and readied herself, casting about for a weapon. Her blade was still sticking weirdly out of the soldier's breastplate. He took a breath to shout the alarm. Through the open window, Moondagger leapt into the room. He landed on the staircase's railing and bit the soldier's face, his lower fangs sinking into the underside of the man's chin, upper fangs crunching through the soft bones of his nose. The man's eyes went wide, and he tried to cry out. But his teeth were clamped shut by Dagger's jaws, and the sound he made was less a scream and more a whine. Moondagger growled softly and clamped down harder. The soldier's jaw and cheeks splintered, but he still stood upright, wobbling with his armload of goodies, as if trying to hand them off to Anna lest they fall. Anna put her foot on the man's thigh, jerked her dagger from where it'd caught, obligingly took the man's basket, and stepped back. Moondagger gave the infantryman's head a single, hard thrash, breaking his neck instantly, and leapt backwards into the rear courtyard, pulling the man after him, white serpent tail whipping over the windowsill.

Anna set the food basket down and stacked its contents into a neat pile, as if it had been left by someone who might return any moment. She checked the stair, the floor, and the windowsill for blood, wiping up the few drops she found with a clean uniform. She hid the uniform in a mop bucket, slipped over the windowsill, and pulled the window shut behind her.

Outside, Moondagger had taken his prize to the far side of the barracks' rear courtyard, hidden behind the laundry lines and hanging uniforms. When Anna reached him, he'd already tidily devoured most of the Tevéss soldier, having tossed aside the man's breastplate after slashing the lateral bindings like you might open a shellfish. Dagger sat in the midst of the soldier's remaining gear, snout extended to the sky, crunching on a freshly mangled arm. A pile of red guts lay beside him, glistening in the morning sun.

Good. She nodded. He needed to eat.

Dagger chomped away with total satisfaction.

"Nice fight." She patted Dagger's neck. "But they won't all be that easy."

Dagger kept chewing, cocking his head attentively.

"Real battle is a dance, Dagger. The deadliest art. It demands strength, speed, and cunning. We'll spend years training for it. This?" She looked at the pile of guts. "This is dinner."

Moondagger stared at her and swallowed with a gulp.

"Hurry up and finish."

Moondagger took another bite and chomped away. As he did, Anna took the steel dagger she'd just tried to use and set it aside. Then she took the high silver blade that Master Khondus had given her, tested its balance, and strapped it to her forearm, concealing it under her tunic sleeve. The weapon was slender, light, and impossibly sharp; an ancient tool made for war. If she'd had it, she could've pushed it through the enemy's armor like a knife through water. The blade might have been meant as a token for Captain Terreden, but it was hers now. She was going to use it.

She patted Dagger's side. "Next time, we'll
both
do our proper work."

Dagger grunted softly, and pushed his white nose at her hand.

20

B
UT WHAT WORK
?
What was the next step?

Anna looked over the courtyard's parapet, south towards the High Keep. The sun was rising huge and red, bathing the citadel's stones in bloody light. Other than the usual messenger dragons, the sky was clear, a pale purple with only a hint of cloud fading in the west. The Keep still slept peacefully, unaware that war now raged in its walls.

Somewhere a crow cawed.

Dagger came up beside her. She put her hand on his neck.

If the upper barracks had fallen, then Lord Gideon already could have moved against them in the High Keep. That meant that House Tevéss might already control the citadel. And if that was true, then Master Khondus had walked into a trap.

Moondagger hissed quietly, as if hearing her thoughts. She stroked his smooth scales. He gave a low growl and flexed his talons. His white tail whipped across the courtyard's flagstones.

She thought about the strategic topography of the Drádonhold. What was important. What was not. Where the tactical priorities of the enemy must lie. Of course, Lord Gideon would concentrate his most elite forces near the center of the High Keep. That much was obvious. He'd do this so that he could control the Keep's High Gate. If open fighting broke out in there, then Master Khondus and the forces of House Dradón would face the most experienced soldiers that House Tevéss could offer. The murders committed here in the upper barracks were key to Lord Gideon's plan, but they were also peripheral. The High Square—and the High Gate that it protected—would be the center of the action.

"Master Zar," Anna said.

Moondagger grunted.

If Tevéss wanted to take the barracks by stealth, to ruin House Dradón's ability to wage war, then the armory would be their next target. Or at least very high on their list. And they would probably try to take it quietly, too. They wouldn't strike the center until the edges were secured.

"Gotta be Master Zar." Anna nodded. "
Then
Master Khondus."

21

I
F YOU COULDN'T
ride on dragon back, then the quickest way to Master Zar's armory from the upper barracks was by roof.

This was something of an advantage, since Anna and the House Dradón squires controlled the Drádonhold's rooftops. (There'd been a brief contest for the turf when Lord Gideon and House Tevéss first had taken up residency in the High Keep, but the Tevéss squires had quickly learned that the squires of House Dradón were the territory's true masters.) Nobody knew the rooftops' secrets better.

Anna swung her legs over the courtyard's parapet. Moondagger launched into the morning sky. She slid down the parapet's side, dropped an arm's length onto the slate roof of the kitchen storeroom, then took off, running and scrambling over the tiled peaks. Dagger's white wings glowed pink in the dawn's light.

The armory itself was located about a quarter bell's distance to her left on a rocky outcrop on the southeastern side of the Drádonhold. It wouldn't take her much longer to get there—as long as she was careful where she stepped.

"Whoa!" a young, sharp voice cried in front of her.

Moondagger hissed and landed beside Anna on a chimney top.

Below them, in the valley between roof peaks, a young dragon rider wearing dark maroon livery sat atop a small, grey dragon. Both rider and dragon looked up at them curiously but made no aggressive move.

Great Sisters take my eyes!

She'd been concentrating on the roof tiles, not scanning the horizon. Did she think that Dagger—her
blind
dragon—was going to keep the watch while she ran?

Below them, the grey dragon growled inquisitively.

The rider was a Tevéss courier, from the look of him. Or a scout. Regardless, he was an enemy that was clearly watching for something—but wait.

He wore Tevéss livery, but the rest of his gear pointed to some other allegiance. His riding harness had been dyed a light lavender. His leather armor was lavender, too; and his leather helmet was topped with a lavender plume. His riding goggles, pushed back onto his helmet, were fastened to the sides of his headgear by small, purple-headed pins. His dagger, sheathed and clipped upside-down on the leather bandolier that crossed his chest, sported a lavender pommel stone. In one gauntleted hand, he held a riding goad wrapped in purple leather. The backs of his gauntlets were marked by an inlaid sigil that Anna didn't know: a silver bull's skull over a circle of lavender. His saddle rig was finely made of Abúcian leather, well-maintained, and heavily padded. A silver bull's skull decorated the saddle's pommel. From the pommel hung a beautifully made signal horn. A steel revolver hung under his left armpit.

He might be wearing Tevéss maroon, but this was no Tevéss rider. And he couldn't be older than eighteen. His mouth was small, his eyes bright blue. Blond hair. His dragon was young, its scales a metallic grey. Its eyes were deep violet.

Moondagger quivered with anticipation.

Wait
, Anna thought.

The rider's dragon was small, yes. A scout, yes. But it was at least three years old, twice Moondagger's size, and—most importantly—trained.