Chapter 3: The Soldier

  Rasshun staggered, “‘To use’?”

  Elara slapped his back. “Well, you captured one human, didn’t you? Time to do it again!”

  The Fire Wheel soldier wandered, meandering in circles without a sense of direction. No one else seemed to be around, the horizon left open and bare. But why attack? What was there to gain?

  “What am I supposed to do?” Rasshun asked.

  “I don’t know. You can breathe fire, can’t you?”

  “I’m not yet a Tsor…”

  Elara rolled her eyes and turned to him.

  “Of course you can’t. Great,” she said, “Just tackle him then! Should be easy enough.”

  Rasshun watched the soldier stumble. It would be simple…

  “Fine,” he said, “But keep watch.”

  Elara grinned. “You’ve got it, scales.”

  Rasshun slipped over the dune.

  The soldier limped along, dragging his torn leather boots from his gnarled feet. He came to a stop between the dunes and looked at the sky as if he had never seen the sun before, then took another sip from his bottle, only to curse the lack of substance within it. Rasshun crept up behind him, crouched in the sand, keeping his breathing low.

  The man spun around.

  Rasshun jumped. He took the young man’s shoulders into his claws and spun him. They dropped, the man going limp and planting into the sand face-first. Rasshun pinned him down but gave enough leave to let him breathe.

  A rotten acrid smell hit Rasshun’s nostrils. It punched him, knocking him back, yet soothed his scales down. The man thrashed, screaming into the sand. “Get off! Get’re off!”

  Rum. That was the smell. The man was drunk.

  Rasshun growled. The man threw himself around, Rasshun’s claws slipping. When Rasshun switched his hold to the man’s chest, he spun. A growl escaped Rasshun’s jaws, and he clamped the man’s biceps, keeping him bound.

  Elara slid down the dune. “Ha! You got him,” she said. She dropped beside them and snatched the soldier’s satchel while Rasshun restrained him, then sifted through his pockets.

  “Let’s see what…”

  An arrow zipped overhead, tearing through Elara’s cloak. She dropped to the ground. A second arrow tore by Rasshun’s head, and he ducked, releasing the drunken soldier, then a third arrow flew over the dune, back from where the drunken soldier had come, whistling away.

  The drunkard dropped onto Rasshun’s back, clawing at his face with his nails. Rasshun kicked him off, snarling. He spun toward Elara. “You were supposed to keep watch!”

  Elara grinned. “Well, there was no one there while I was watching, was there? Let’s see how many we’ve got.”

  She crawled over to the edge of the dune, peering over.

  “Two archers and a foot soldier,” she said, “Pretty easy.”

  “That’s three against two,” Rasshun said. His tail curled around him, and he kicked the drunkard off again. “We should leave. We already have the satchel.”

  Elara shook her head. “We can take a few more, c’mon.”

  She crawled around the dune, and, after kicking the drunkard off once more, Rasshun followed. She drew a knife from her cloak, grinning at the blade’s mocking gleam. A heat grew in Rasshun, building up under his collarbone and rising.

  “Where did you get that knife?” he hissed.

  “The soldier had it,” Elara said, “You’ll thank me later when it saves your life.”

  Rasshun growled. He would deal with the knife later.

  The three soldiers advanced toward the dune, two with bows and a third with a short sword. Rasshun and Elara came to their rear, crawling in the sand. The soldiers watched the horizon, heading for where they last aimed. Perhaps they were drunk as well?

  Two hands grabbed Rasshun’s throat, nails digging into his scales, and the air in his lungs constricted as his chest tightened. He let out a garbled hiss and kicked the intruder.

  A fourth soldier had him. “Over here!” he shouted.

  Elara swiped her knife at the soldier. He took a step back, taking Rasshun into a choke hold with the crook of his arm, smothering him in chainmail and a heavy cloak. The air squeezed out of Rasshun. His innards boiled. His stomach twisted. He kicked and squirmed, but his strength failed him.

  The three soldiers scaled the dune behind him, weapons in hand.

  Elara looked at them, then Rasshun.

  “Good luck,” she said.

  She sprinted away.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Elara!” Rasshun spurted out.

  He kicked and lashed his tail at the soldier, but he held firm.

  The soldier growled. “Settle down! Or I’ll—argh—!”

  The drunken soldier had his comrade’s thigh in his teeth. Perhaps he had gone for Rasshun’s swinging tail, or perhaps he had a bloodlust for his fellow soldier, but Rasshun didn’t care for the reason. The oppurtunity was all he needed…

  The soldier loosened his grip for a moment, just long enough for Rasshun to stab his ríl into the soldier’s stomach.

  The soldier fell over with a groan. “Fasha…"

  Rasshun dropped to the sand and took off into the Wastes.

  By the time the other soldiers arrived, he was gone.

  -

  Elara jogged ahead, kicking up sand into the wind, unaware of Rasshun coming up behind her. Panting between, he snarled at her, and she sped into a run. Rasshun bolted and leapt on her back, planting her face into the dune.

  “You abandoned me!” he shouted.

  Elara turned over and coughed up a mouthful of sand.

  “Hey, hey, easy,” she said, “I saw an opening and had to take it, that’s all. No hard feelings.”

  “No—? You left me!”

  “Sometimes you have to make tough decisions to survive, wyrm. Besides, you made it out fine on your own, didn’t you?”

  Rasshun released her, refraining from snapping her neck.

  Elara stood up. “Next time, how about we do this without the mouthful of sand? Would be easier.”

  -

  They travelled until the moon rose above the landscape, finding themselves under the shadows of the mountains. Throughout their walk, Rasshun kept away from Elara, never letting her walk behind him. There was no telling if she would betray him, stab him in the back, or just leave him alone to die. They went on into the night but eventually set a camp below the rocky behemoths.

  Rasshun watched Elara through the waving flames, his claws curling…

  A horn bellowed over the landscape, seeking every crevice of the desert. Elara kept rolling her dice into the sand, kicking her feet up by the fire. Rasshun dug himself a little deeper.

  The Fire Wheel was on the hunt.

  Were they hunting him this time, after what he did?

  He shuddered.

  The Fire Wheel’s always around. He shifted his raa to cover his face. The Wheel ruled the Wastes after all, bringing order to places that would have otherwise been ruled by bandits—but they also killed and enslaved those they considered unimportant or dangerous. He hoped they were not targeting him.

  The scent of iron stung Rasshun’s nose, fading his thoughts. Sand spilled out of his ears as he perked up.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Elara, without even glancing at Rasshun, stuffed her hand into the satchel she had stolen off the soldier. A grin spread across her face, growing wider as she took hold of an object.

  A fist-sized rock slipped out of the satchel. Black and dotted with the stars of the night. Its smell sent a wave of adrenaline from Rasshun’s nose to the end of his tail, and his claws twitched.

  “Ironglass?” he asked.

  Elara nodded. “Full untreated Ironglass. Rare to see this much of it. That soldier must’ve found it and took it for himself—for more drinking money or something.”

  Rasshun thought back to the taste Elara’s first knife left in his mouth. The strong, energized feeling the metal left in his muscles and head. But Ironglass was different. It was a Metal, not a simple alloy like iron or copper, and it was stronger and full of energy. When he had been lucky in the Wastes, he would find coin-sized pieces of Ironglass in the sand that kept him sustained for entire days.

  How would such a large piece feel?

  “Should sell for something good I think, with how rare it is nowadays,” Elara said, “Best save it for later.”

  She dropped the Metal back into the bag. Rasshun shifted.

  She noticed the movement. “Where we’re going, I’m sure we can find a lot more of this,” Elara said, “Perhaps enough to fulfill that draconic lust I’ve heard of, eh? Better rest up.”

  Elara turned away, lying on her side and lifting the hood of her cloak, leaving Rasshun alone with the crackling fire.

  -

  Rasshun sat on the landing just above the cave, looking to the black sky. Lightning arched across the clouds, spreading its tendrils into the dark. His scales prickled. He shrunk back from the entranceway.

  Where was he?

  “Afraid of the rain, wyrm?”

  Rasshun spun around. The other dragon pulled himself up onto the ledge, his pale blue eyes taking on a menacing glow. He pranced around Rasshun slowly, making sure to wave the mini tendrils of his growing drakí in Rasshun’s face.

  Tasshun.

  “Leave me alone,” Rasshun said.

  “Or what? Will you fight me?”

  Tasshun rammed into Rasshun. Rasshun lost his balance and fell back, and before he jumped up, his brother stood on top of him, baring sharp teeth and a vile putrid breath of inner fire.

  “I could eat you, and no one could do anything about it,” Tasshun hissed, “Fight me!”

  Tasshun released Rasshun and gave him a mock bite to the muzzle. Free, Rasshun jumped to his feet, watching Tasshun put on his prideful display. Heat boiled under his scales, burning through his blood. He had no drakí, no fire, not even fully grown teeth, but a fury grew in Rasshun, searing his veins, and he didn’t hesitate.

  Tasshun’s tail whipped around in Rasshun’s face, waving. In a swift lunge, Rasshun ambushed, taking Tasshun’s tail in his jaws and clenching down. Tasshun cried out, an echo down the chamber. Then he snarled and spun around.

  Tasshun bared his teeth and shot out his claws, rending a scratch along Rasshun’s back. Rasshun pulled away, his brother’s teeth just missing his raa. His tail was still locked in Rasshun’s jaws, bleeding.

  With a roar, Tasshun spun around, dragging Rasshun with him. The two tumbled, and Rasshun struck the floor, a dull pain rippling through him. Red filled his eyes. His grip on Tasshun fell free, but something still hung from his mouth.

  Tasshun let out a cry. An ugly, bloody stump ended his tail, the other part torn off.

  “You will pay in blood, wyrm!” Tasshun shrieked.

  He leapt at Rasshun, giving him no chance to stand, and wrapped his claws around Rasshun’s shoulders, pinning him to the floor. Rasshun’s raa tingled, the blood cut off. Pain surged through him and his heart raced. Tasshun snarled. “Father pays more attention to you than he should, you witless wyrm!” he growled, “I tire of it—being overlooked for the likes of you! I am the dominant male, and I won’t be defeated by a mere Sor…”

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  The dark brooding silhouette of Father stood in the cave entrance. Rainwater writhed him, smoke leaked from his jaws and billowed around him, and dark blood dripped from his claws and teeth. Rasshun shrunk back, his scales raising. Tasshun lowered his head, his dominant demeanor fading away.

  “I—we were simply wrestling, Father, I…”

  “Do not lie to me! I know what you were doing!”

  Father stood over Tasshun, growing into a mountain.

  “I will not have my sons kill each other like animals. We are dragons, not instinctual beasts of dominance. Know, Tasshun, that your displays make you less in my eyes. I find no pride in blood.”

  Tasshun opened his mouth, but Father spoke first:

  “Go, Tasshun, back to your darkness, and don’t expect a meal tonight,” Father said, “If I catch you doing this again, I will drive you from this cave myself. The cruel world would suit your foul games better.”

  Tasshun stared at Father, a burning fury growing behind his eyes. He drew back, head low, and slowly, he slipped into the dark, his form melding with the shadows. Silence fell.

  Father turned to Rasshun. “You have been silent.”

  Rasshun quivered under Father’s sharp eyes, wanting so badly to hide in the dark like Tasshun—but Father was a reasonable dragon. He would listen.

  “He called me a wyrm, Father,” Rasshun said softly, meekly, his voice almost growing into a cry. He hated his own voice. Why must he be so weak? “He mocks me, and dominates me, and tries to kill me, so I…”

  “Proved yourself, as usual?” Father asked, “Rasshun, don’t be as your brother. Proving yourself is one thing, fighting for pride is another. I have enough to repair in him already, don’t follow the same path.

  “You are not a wyrm, my son, let no one give you such a notion. You will have your drakí one day.”