Dragon-Ridden (8 page)

Ricky straightened and paled a bit.
“I didn’t think humans had settled that far north.”

“They haven’t,” Danny put in
quietly. “She was alone.”

“What were you doing so far north,
lass?” Ricky asked. “Nobody, except maybe the Silva, goes up there and even
then it’s only for hunting.”

Tate shrugged uncomfortably and
stuffed her mouth full with food. Maybe if she was chewing they wouldn’t expect
her to talk.

She’d heard the story of her
capture many times. The loneliness and the dragon’s restlessness had made the
arrival of strangers both shocking and surreal. She’d watched from the
protection of the cliffs as they rowed to shore. For days she’d watched them,
their presence a curiosity in her isolation. It’d been the first time she could
remember seeing anybody who looked like her. That walked on two legs and had to
wear clothes instead of fur to stay warm. Despite her fascination, she’d
planned to keep her distance. Observe, but not engage.

It would’ve remained that way
except she wandered into one of their snowcat traps. The snowcat was a fierce
feline whose shoulders were as a tall as an average sized man. Their fur and
teeth made them highly sought after by traders. They were worth double if
captured alive.

When Jost and Danny had come to
check on one of their traps, they’d found her instead. The two hadn’t really
given her any choice but to come with them. She’d fought them every step of the
way and spent the first few weeks at sea literally climbing anything in reach
and snarling at any who approached. She’d savaged quite a few of the men before
they decided she was the captain’s problem. Learning the language had gone a
long ways in getting her to integrate with the crew.

Sensing her discomfort, Jost turned
the conversation to the man’s business. “I see you’ve changed things since I
last visited.”

The man nodded, letting out a weary
sigh. “We had too. The Order’s starting to crack down after all of the
whisperings from the summer. Business has been off too. We’re doing about 70
percent of what we had this time last year. City’s balanced on a knife’s edge.”

“Is it because of all the strange
creatures?” Tate asked tuning back into the conversation.

“Aye, that’s part of it. The
Academy has gotten themselves all in a twitter, saying there has been a major
shift on the magical plane. We’ve been informed that there is an
investigation.” He shook his head. “Their hands are kept too busy stopping the
fights. We’ve had two near riots already this month.”

“What about the Order?” Danny
asked.

The man gave a short bark of
laughter. “Supposedly they’re part of the investigation. They’ve sent most of
their force out searching for answers, leaving the rest of us floating in the
wind. The Night Lords have begun to keep order but only when it benefits them
or when someone pays their outrageous dues.”

The group listened with a grim
silence. Tate hadn’t really noticed the tension he spoke of. She pulled the
fork from her mouth slowly. She had been too busy enjoying the sites to pay
attention.

Noticing the damper he’d put on the
mood, the man clapped Tate on the shoulder and said, “Since you enjoy my
cooking so much I’ll throw in dessert for free and tell you you’re welcome any
time in Ricky’s kitchen free of charge.”

“That’s nice of you, but I couldn’t
impose on you like that,” Tate demurred.

“Nonsense,” he said with an
expansive wave of his arms. “Any friend of Jost’s is a friend of mine. He saved
my life once, you know.”

“Really?” Tate asked. She shot a
glance at Jost. “I’d really like to hear that story some day.”

Jost grinned at her but shook his
head. “Perhaps some other time. Today we celebrate, because tomorrow the
Marauder sails with the morning tide.”

Trent’s mouth dropped open, and
even Danny looked surprised at their captain’s news. Ricky sighed and shook his
head. He said his goodbyes and after a few more minutes of idle chat, bid them
safe journey. With surprising agility for such a big man, he made his way back
to the kitchen, hopefully for the dessert he’d promised them.

“So soon? I thought we’d be here
another week.” Tate bit her lip nervously. The food she’d eaten twisted in her
stomach.

She hadn’t finished making plans.
She wasn’t ready. She’d been counting on that week to get everything into
place. Why now? Her earlier paranoia came back full force. Was Jost trying to
stop her?

“We picked up another contract that
requires us to leave immediately,” he said, his eyes steady on Tate’s. “I’d
hoped to be here a little longer, but business awaits. Ryu will be staying
behind to take care of other matters.”

Tate ducked her head and scraped
her spoon along her plate. She’d already eaten everything. All that remained
was some of the broth.

What was she going to do? Did she
take the chance and leave, knowing Ryu was lurking somewhere in the city? Or
did she try to make it to the next port? It’d be dangerous, but she’d made it
eight months, a few more weeks shouldn’t be too bad. She’d just make sure she
was extra careful— keep either Danny or Riply around her at all times.

Tate liked that plan. Aurelia was
nice, but she didn’t want to run around without having some form of a plan.

Trent stuffed his mouth with a
piece of bread, his cheeks bulging out like a chipmunk’s. He looked even more
disappointed in the turn of events than Tate. Danny took a long sip of his beer
and shot a glance at Jost whose laugh boomed out of his chest. If there hadn’t
been a noise dampener at their table, they’d probably have drawn the notice of
the entire tavern.

“Don’t look so glum. We’ll circle
back to Aurelia in a few week’s time,” he told them.

“It won’t be the same,” Trent
muttered. “The Donza Festival will be over.”

A steely glint came into Jost’s
eye. He didn’t tolerate insubordination. From anyone. Ever. “Oh?” he asked
arching one brow. His voice had taken on that quiet lethality it sometimes had
when he was angered.

Trent didn’t say anything else and
kept his gaze focused on his hands.

“Is there a problem, boy?” Jost
asked.

Trent shook his head and said in a
small voice, “No, sir.”

“Good.” Jost looked over at the
rest of them. “This is a ship, and though I allow some leeway, I will not
tolerate anyone questioning my orders. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

Danny patted Trent on the shoulder
in commiseration. It was never fun to receive a dressing down in public. Though
Jost was relaxed as captains went, he was not a friend, and Trent had made a
mistake in thinking he could speak to him as one. The discipline and morale of
the ship required that Jost maintain its hierarchy.

“Enough about business,” Jost said
gesturing a serving wench over. “Get us a round of Flaming Crickets.”

“Oh boy,” Tate muttered. It was
going to be an interesting night.

The flaming drinks were just the
first of many. When Jost climbed on top of the bar to sing a ribald version of
Rosy’s
Fancy
, the rest held a mug up and sang along on the chorus. More and more
crewmembers filtered in as the night past until they made up the majority of
the patrons.

Someone got a knife-throwing
contest started, and they devised a drinking game off of it. Tate had already
downed two Flaming Crickets and one Painted Nipple, a sweet concoction Riply
had dared her to drink. She smacked her lips; that last one had been pretty
tasty.

Warmth from the alcohol stole
through her limbs. She tapped her nose. “Numb!”

She shook her head when someone
tried to push another drink into her hand and instead stumbled to the bar to
ask for some water. The tip of her nose was her barometer as to how drunk she
was. When it went numb, it meant she had bypassed tipsy and settled on stone
cold drunk.

The cold water felt good going down
her throat.

The world swayed and tipped. She
blinked and realized she’d put her head down on the counter and stood up. Time
to get some fresh air.

“You alright?” Riply shouted.

She nodded. “Just need some air.”

Tate opened the first door she
found, making her way down a small hallway and out the kitchen. She breathed in
deep when she made it to the alley. The quiet there was almost blissful.

A stray breeze flowed across her
skin. The night’s cool air made it clear fall was right around the corner.

There was a clatter as someone
kicked one of the trash bins. Tate stole a glance and immediately turned to
hurry back into the inn. A leering man blocked her way, almost blotting out the
warm glow of the inn’s light. His four companions had fanned out on both sides
of the alley, trapping her between them.

“I thought you were going to give
me time to leave?” Tate said tersely. She was scared, the alcohol she’d drunk
roiling uneasily in her stomach.

“We changed our mind.” Tate
recognized the speaker. He’d been the ringleader the last time they’d tried to
attack her. She’d seen him on the crew but most of the senior members were
pretty rough with him, giving him the worst jobs and heckling him when he
screwed up. He’d decided that that was her fault especially since those same
crew members had shown her the ropes and praised her when she did well. “We
decided we didn’t want to lose this chance to have a little fun.”

Tate couldn’t believe she’d once
felt sorry for the little shit.

“How brave,” she sneered. “Five
against one.”

Last time there had only been
three, and she’d barely managed to get away. She didn’t know how she’d escape
this time.

“Are you sure about this?” one of
them asked nervously. “Riply and Danny won’t be happy if she’s hurt. They’ve
given her their protection.”

“I don’t care about those pussy
whipped louts,” the leader snapped.

“I’ve always wondered what she’d be
like,” the leering man said grabbing his crotch.

Tate slid further away from him.
Over her dead body.

She snapped out two of the knives
she’d begun carrying everywhere she went. Tate couldn’t believe that after
she’d resolved to stick close to her friends she’d let herself get caught in
the open like this. Of all the boneheaded mistakes to make.

She relaxed into her stance,
expanding her focus so she could be ready to move at any time. She swayed a
little, still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

“Pin her arms first,” the leader
advised. “She’s good with a knife.”

Five against one. This time, when
she put one down, she had to make sure he stayed down. No mercy. It was the
only way to survive.

Two of them had started moving
closer. Darting in and out of her range. Testing her. She swept out with one
knife opening a small slice on one of her attackers arms and glided out of his
range before he could retaliate. His cry of pain was her reward.

The other whore’s son barreled into
her. She sidestepped and plowed one blade into his back. It caught on bone and
refused to come back out. Tate released it and moved to meet the next attack.
It never came.

Ryu stood with his back to her. She
hadn’t even seen him arrive. Her breath caught on a sob of relief. She’d never
been so glad to see the man in her life.

“What’s this?” he asked lightly.
“Does Jost know you’re attacking a member of his crew?”

“What makes you think we’re
attacking her?” one asked. “We’re the ones with injuries.”

“Five against one,” Ryu said,
eyeing them like they were a puzzling new specie of insect. His eyes had taken
on a strange light. He looked almost hungry. “I hardly see Tate taking on those
odds. Now, why were you attacking crew?”

Only four remained. The one who’d
asked after Danny and Riply had already disappeared.

“We were practicing knife fighting,
sir,” the leader said. “Isn’t that right, Tate?”

All eyes turned towards her. One of
the knives was still clutched in her hands, her posture defensive. She
swallowed. “Yeah, sure.”

Ryu snorted. He obviously didn’t
believe her, but he waved for them to leave anyway. Watching them creep off
dragging their wounded friend behind them, Tate wished she could leave too. Ryu
had refused to let her move when she tried.

She didn’t really want to try to
explain what had happened.

“Knife fighting?” he asked, folding
his arms.

She tucked her chin and focused on
placing her knife back in its hidden sheath. Its twin was still in her
attacker’s back. Luckily, she carried more than two knives on her at all times,
just for situations like these.

“Tate? What was that?”

“I’m not feeling so good.”

“Don’t think you can get out of
this with that excuse.”

She leaned over and puked as he
stepped towards her. All the liquid in her stomach came gushing out, some of it
landing on his boots.

There was a weary sigh above her
head and then cool hands reached to pull her hair back from her face. “We’ll
talk about this later then.”

Sleep refused to come. Ryu had
helped her back up to her room after she’d finished thoroughly embarrassing
herself.

Danny and Riply had made a point of
stopping in and seeing how she was faring, after having heard about her
troubles from Ryu. Both obviously felt guilty about not being there. Nobody
believed the story that they were practicing knife fighting.

“I was going to give this to you
later, but considering what’s happened, perhaps now would be better.” Danny grabbed
Tate’s hand and placed a pair of triangular red gems in it.

“What are these?” Tate asked. She
was relieved to see that her hands had stopped shaking.

Danny didn’t respond, instead
grabbing her hand and pressing her thumb against one of the gems. A low hum
tickled her senses and a sharp sting pricked her. She would have jerked back if
Danny hadn’t had such a firm grip. Energy rose to encircle her hand, vibrating
along her skin, making it itch. It lapped at her forearm before dispersing as
quickly as it’d come. The gems sparked, a piercing fire shined briefly in their
depths, before fading to a dull red.