Dragon Dodgers (Wounds in the Sky Prequels Book 1) Read online

  “Are you alright, kid?” The man asked.

  Enrig didn’t answer right away.

  “They never eat us.” He muttered. “They just kill us and then carry us away as trophies.”

  The Surface Runner removed his hand from Enrig’s chest.

  “Dragons are necrophagous.” He said awkwardly. “They… carry their prey back to their lairs and… eat us later.” His voice was rough, like leather worn for far too long.

  One of the Runners, a short woman, approached them.

  “Captain,” She said. “Everyone’s accounted for. We just…”

  “You raving mad lunatic!” Another voice interrupted.

  Enrig turned towards it and saw a man pointing an accusatory finger at the Captain.

  “You order us to face a Black Dread. A Mahari Black, fucking, Dread.”

  “Serak…” The Captain said with a tired shake of his head.

  “We could have run straight to the tunnel, and you order us to fucking save farmers?!” He had a green pony tail and the left side of his face was covered in tattoos.

  “They needed help!” The Captains said.

  “They needed help? We needed help! Samir almost lost an arm.”

  “I wasn’t just gonna leave them.”

  “Well, it was certainly worth it.” The angry Runner quipped. “Look at everyone we saved.” His arms went wide, encompassing the entire burrow. “One brat. Congratulations, Captain Targon. You’re a fucking hero!”

  A knife suddenly appeared below Serak’s chin.

  “Get off my face.” Targon growled.

  Serak decided to step back, but his voice came out like a chill.

  “Whatever it is, you better deliver on this plan of yours, Captain. Cause you’re gonna find yourself out of Runners to boss around unless you get us some real gold, real fast.”

  Chapter 2: The Contract

  Targon had visited dozens of cities in the world, from the cliff caves of Awam in the Western Sea, to the hill tunnels of Fausta in the Phermian Mountains, but he had never seen anything quite like Saggad. Most of its tunnels had walls of polished brick instead of naked rock and were paved with colorful cobblestone. Abundant torches gave a yellow glow to just about every corridor in the city. And omnipresent incenses softened the stench of moisture, sweat and urine that plagued every underground settlement in the world. But what really took Targon’s breath away was its main cave. Many cities had central hollows at its hearts. The market in Samehr, for instance, was four stories high and as wide as a corn field, but the royal plaza of Saggad was something out of a drunken bard’s tale. A cavern so immense that a Dragon would have been dwarfed by it. Dozens of tunnels, corridors and hallways from ten different levels fed from it, making its concave walls a cascade of stairways, balconies and terraces. The plaza was cut in half by a black river ten feet wide, crossed by seven stone bridges, each lined with exquisite sculptures. Two statues of the goddess Fyr, one on each end of the river, pretended to hold the cave’s ceiling with their left hands, while their right one’s clenched around a fire that shed light upon the entire cave - Just like the real goddess did with the sky and the sun, above the ground.

  Targon walked between the marble palaces the nobility had built around the myriad tents of the market, ignoring the usual stares from the crowd. Behind him, his Company followed in gloomy silence. He looked across the river, where the Temple of Fire competed with the Royal Palace for the tallest archway Targon had ever seen.

  He stopped in the middle of a small clearing of merchant stalls and ordered the Company to do the same. Nasur, his lieutenant, walked to his side as the men dropped their loads, allowing themselves some rest.

  “Are you gonna tell them now?” Nasur always spoke in a rasp, as if everything he said tasted bitter. This time, he was doing it in a low voice, making sure no one else could hear.

  “Not yet. Not until I have all the details.”

  Targon scratched his chiseled jaw. It was marked by a burn scar that ran down to his neck and looked almost as scary as his permanent frown.

  “Now, boys.” He heard someone say. “We can finally sell our precious load of cotton.” It was Serak. He was speaking loud enough so the Captain could hear him. “Hey, Thamet, can you think of a better place to sell cotton than a city warmer than Dragon farts?”

  Nasur looked over his shoulder, at the rest of the Company, but spoke to Targon only.

  “Morale is low.” He said. “Sooner or later they’re going to start listening to that idiot Serak.”

  “I can handle Serak.” Targon said.

  Merchants had begun an assault on his men. Surface Runners always meant new goods for them to resell, so they tried to tempt them with the finest silks, jewels and tapestries in the whole of Arkhemia.

  “Look at these numskulls.” Targon said.

  Nasur shook his head.

  “Might as well try to sell those to a Dragon.” He said. “But still, the men’s pockets are empty. Even if it is useless crap, they would all rather be able to afford it than not.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll tell’em about it as soon as I know everything.” He turned towards the company. “Anweh!”

  A small, olive skinned girl stepped up to him with Enrig in tow.

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Targon said. “What is he still doing here? Go home, kid.”

  “Says he wants to join.” Anweh told him.

  “I wanna be a Surface Runner.” Enrig said.

  “What?! No way, you’re too young.”

  “I’m almost fifteen.”

  “Well, you look like you’re almost twelve.” Targon replied. “And you talk like you’re ten.” Then, as if the matter was settled. “Anweh, find us some accommodation.”

  “I started younger than him.” She said. Her wavy jet hair bounced over her tiny ears. “And he’s good at reading Dragon’s movements. You saw him up there.”

  “Yeah!” Enrig said. “I’ve been a Watcher for years.”

  Targon exhaled loudly.

  “I’m not going to take a kid as an apprentice unless I can talk with his parents.”

  “My dad is somewhere out on the surface. Good luck finding him.” Enrig said.

  Targon had trouble answering that.

  “He’s a Surface Runner.” Enrig explained.

  “Yes, I understood that!” The Captain said.

  Nasur began to chuckle, which earned him a furious stare from Targon.

  “You do see the irony in this, right?” Nasur told him.

  “Shut the surface up.” Targon replied. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.” He turned to Anweh. “And you, get us a place to sleep. Nasur will hand you some gold.”

  “What gold?” Nasur asked.

  Targon gave him another angry stare.

  “Find something cheap.” Nasur told Anweh. “Maybe we’ll be able to afford half of it.”

  “How about I pitch a tent on the surface?” She asked.

  Nasur gave her a wink.

  “That’s the spirit.” He said.

  Anweh turned around with a graceful swirl and hopped away. Enrig decided to follow her.

  “Right. Time to get paid.” Targon said.

  “I’ll get the men something to drink.”

  “Don’t let them get too drunk. It’s going to be a long discussion when I get back.”

  Nasur nodded and Targon walked away. A fruit merchant quickly jumped up to him, displaying a glowing red pear.

  “Thank you.” Targon said, snatching the pear. He took a bite from it, ignoring the protest frozen on the merchant’s throat. The other merchants decided it was better to just let him through.

  He crossed one of the bridges that connected the two halves of the plaza and headed to the massive gate of the Royal Palace. Above it, an elaborately sculpted archway flamed on the wall of the cave. He stepped up to one of the soldiers standing guard and showed him a rolled piece of parchment with the sigil of Saggad etched on a s
eal.

  “I want to see the king.”

  * * *

  Targon heard each of his steps repeated tenfold as he slowly approached the throne. The room seemed as tall as the giant cave outside. Pink marble columns rose up to the naked rock ceiling, making sure the artificial hollow didn’t cave on top of his majesty.

  “It sure feels empty with just the three of us in here.” The Surface Runner said.

  “This conversation is meant for no one else’s ears.” Taggesh II, King under Saggad, was a fat brown man with a soft voice. Sitting atop his stalagmite throne, he looked much smaller than he actually was. He wore a plain black tunic, and one would have been forgiven for mistaking him for a commoner, was it not for the flaming gold crown on his head.

  “I suppose this was the smallest room you could find in such short notice.” Targon said.

  The king did not answer, so the Surface Runner produced the roll of parchment that had brought him there.

  “Carn,” Said Taggesh to the servant beside him. “If you don’t mind.” He waved towards Targon.

  The man wore a tunic similar to that of his king. He had a potent walk and a serious stare, like nothing in the world could make him smile. He had unusually fair skin for a Saggadi, and his short hair was almost blonde.

  The king’s servant retrieved the parchment, opened it and read it in silence.

  “It is authentic, your majesty.” He said. “I recognize my handwriting.”

  Taggesh nodded.

  “Do you think you are the first Surface Runner to attempt to collect this offer?” The king asked.

  “I would be surprised if half of my competitors could read, your highness.”

  Taggesh let out a soft chuckle.

  “You are a witty man, Captain Targon. Is that a useful trait on the surface?”

  “Alas, Dragons have a lousy sense of humor, your majesty. I am afraid it is not.”

  “Your Company, what is its name?”

  “The Dragon Dodgers, your majesty.”

  Taggesh paused and his eyes roamed for a little bit.

  “Have you heard of the Dragon Dodgers, Carn?” He asked. His servant told him no with a solemn shake of his head. “I have not as well. I do not think your reputation has reached Saggad, Captain. Is it a new Company?”

  “Founded it myself, twelve years ago. Best Runners this side of the sun, your highness.”

  “But you do understand I need more than just Runners, don’t you?” The king asked. “Many companies have come to me, claiming they could do this. Few convinced me they could. None ever returned to collect the reward.”

  “My Runners and I tend to work mostly in Samehria.” Targon said. “Sometimes we Run north to trade with the Arrelines in Augusta or even Fausta. Other times we go as south as Awam, but we rarely go east, and certainly never as far as Saggad. We have travelled a great distance to be here, your highness. I wouldn’t have brought the Dodgers this far unless I was sure we can do this.”

  Taggesh nodded.

  “You are clearly motivated,” Carn said. “that is very good. But what is your plan?”

  Targon shuffled his feet. That really was the question. And he had spent the last couple of months rehearsing the answer. After all, without a plan, he was just sending himself and his Company to a certain death.

  “My plan involves a third party.” He replied.

  “That is rather vague, Captain.” Carn said.

  “An alchemist named Kanuur. I have reason to believe he has made a discovery that will assist me. But that is all I am prepared to share. The contract does not imply I have to divulge my methods.”

  “But that is unacceptable!” The king yelled and jumped to his feet. “I will know every detail of this operation or there will be no deal.”

  “The king will be investing a vast sum of gold in your endeavor.” Carn said. “If you are successful, but his majesty is not capable of replicating that success, the investment will be for nothing.”

  “Very well…” Targon said, shuffling his feet once again. Those two were proving to be harder to dodge than most Dragons. “We will be travelling to a small town near the Shamissai Mountains called Sandahar. There, I will meet Kanuur and obtain…” He swallowed in a dry throat and his eyes rolled in every possible direction, looking for an answer somewhere in the enormous throne room.

  “Obtain what?” The king asked.

  “A poison.” Targon blurted out. And now it was too late to take it back. Oh boy, am I stupid…

  “A poison…” The king said. “That is most ingenious. The possibility had never occurred to me.”

  That makes two of us.

  “Indeed.” Said Carn. “If such poison exists. You are certain that it does?”

  Why don’t you just shut up?!

  “I am very confident.” Targon said.

  “Excellent!” Taggesh proclaimed. “As promised on the parchment you hold, I will pay five hundred thousand Spades upon your successful return.”

  The mere thought of all that money made Targon feel warmer.

  “I will also give you ten thousand gold Spades in advance to cover any expenses.” The king continued.

  “Oh, thank you, your majesty.” Targon wasn’t expecting that little, huge, bonus. It should be enough to get Serak off his back, for sure. “You are most generous.” He said with a bow.

  “Carn will serve as your bank. Whatever you need money for, just ask him and he will pay for it, up to those ten thousand.”

  “Oh, that’s… You see, your majesty, Runners travel light, so it would be preferable to restock once we reach Sandahar. For that reason, it’s probably best if you just give me the advance.”

  “That is not a problem, Captain. Carn will be joining your expedition, of course. He must learn all about this poison.”

  Oh, Dragon shit!

  Chapter 3: The Disagreement

  “Are you fucking insane?!” Thamet yelled.

  The rest of the Company looked similarly curious, but Targon held his fearless expression. After all, he had been expecting this reaction from the beginning.

  “Kill a Dragon? Actually kill a bloody Dragon?” Thamet continued. His braided mustache whipping with his screams. “What is wrong with you?”

  They had the tavern all to themselves. Targon was glad he had convinced that nosy Carn to wait outside. Suspicious as he was, witnessing this discussion would probably send him running back to his king, advising him to pull off his support of the expedition.

  “Wait a moment, calm down.” Said Serak, stepping to the front of the crowd. “For once, the Captain might actually be on to something good here.”

  That was strange, Targon thought. Serak actually sounded like he meant it.

  “Ten thousand Spades is a lot of gold.” He continued. “And that servant of the king is the only one keeping us from it. I say we kill the bastard half way to Sandahar, run back to Samehria and never set foot in Saggad ever again.”

  “That’s a horrible idea.” Nasur said.

  “Why? Accidents happen on the surface.”

  “No way Taggesh would fall for that, Serak.” Targon said. “Word would get out. In less than a year we wouldn’t be able to find a job this side of the sun.”

  “So this is what you actually intended?” Thamet asked. “I mean, if your plan was to scam the king of some far away eastern city, I could understand it. And ten thousand Spades is almost worth crossing a whole continent. But hunting a Dragon?! Hunt down an actual Dragon?!”

  “And kill it.” Targon added.

  “We run from Dragons!” Yarek said.

  “We don’t kill them.” His brother Marek added.

  “No one does.” Yarek finished.

  “That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.” Targon replied. “Five hundred thousand gold Spades. You’ll be as rich as kings.”

  “Not if we’re dead, we won’t.” Thamet said.

  There was a chorus of angry agreements, but some of the Runners took the side of the
Captain.

  “It’s a lot of gold, Tham.” Casta said.

  “It’s certain death!” Liora yelled.

  Approving yeah’s and angry no’s piled on top of each other. There were even some shoves and insults.

  “Listen to me.” Serak’s yell competed with everyone else’s. “The Captain already got us into this mess. I’m the only one offering a solution.”

  Serak received no answer as everyone seemed to be involved in a discussion of their own.

  Suddenly, a blast of shattering stoneware broke through the noise and a white cloud of dust covered the angry crowd. The yelling was replaced by screams of pain and everyone covered their eyes.

  “Be quiet, you vagabonds!” Nasur barked as the dust cleared. “You will discuss this matter with civility. Oh stop your whining, Thaeus. It’s just a blind bomb.” He lifted the squirming Thaeus from the ground and pushed him into the rest of the crowd. “Useless earthworms. Next time I’ll drop an incendiary bomb up your arses.”

  The men tried to regain their composure as their vision returned and the pain subsided.

  “None of you were forced to join this Company.” Targon said. “That means you’re a Dragon Dodger for as long as you like, not a day longer.” He paused for effect. “Truth is, I found the mother of all jobs. The best paying job any Company ever found. Isn’t that my job as your Captain? Getting money in your pockets?”

  The men stared at him through burning, watery eyes.

  “But this can’t be done, Captain…” Said Nyssa, a towering black woman.

  “Yes, it can. I found the job, but I also found a way to do it.”

  The room became suddenly quiet.

  “There is an alchemist in Sandahar that has discovered a poison. A poison so powerful, it can kill a Dragon.” Targon continued. “My plan is to find this Alchemist and buy some of this poison from him. After that… I’m going to hunt and kill a Dragon. But I need your help. I’m offering you fame, and I’m offering you more money than you can count. Runners from all over the surface would give their balls for the privilege of standing in your shoes.” He waited, silently counting his breaths. No one moved, no one said anything. “Good. Get some sleep, we leave tomorrow.”