The Dragon Games

Quota

Usually, when the first day of the qualifying tournament ended, crowds of people poured onto the streets and partied well into sunrise. But tonight, the burrow – the most densely populated city in the kingdom – was like a ghost town. 

I walked the grimy cobblestone streets alone, my voice echoing off the alleyways as I hummed a filthy tavern tune. I had just reached the chorus, something about a parakeet's jiggly arse, when a window jerked open behind me.

"Girl!" An old lady leaned out of her tenant, her thin lips pinched together. "It's not safe to be out here! The raiders are –"

Her voice cut off with a gasp when I lowered my collar, revealing a ram skull tattoo, its horns winding around my throat like barbed wire. At first, she was shocked. Scrawny sixteen-year-old girls don't exactly scream 'hardened criminal.' 

But then her survival instincts kicked in, and without another word, she grabbed the latch – slowly, as if fearing any sudden moves would provoke an attack – and closed the window. A second later, the deadbolt clicked. Then a hatch. Then a padlock. I decided to continue walking before she built a full on barricade.

Three blocks later, I rounded the corner to reach the first, if not only, crowded alleyway in the burrow. A group of men – all tatted, armed to the tooth, and at least a head taller than I was – leaned against the buildings, half hidden in the shadows. While a few nodded in my direction, Ghost kicked off the wall to greet me.

"Ready for tomorrow?" he said. "All caught up on the plan?"

"Ay," I replied automatically, looking over his shoulder to scan the lineup. My stomach tightened at what I saw. Or, more like, what I didn't see. Every raider was accounted for, except the one I was actually looking for. "So ready."

"Sure about that?" he said. "You don't have any questions, do you?"

"Have you seen Chick yet?"

There was a long, heavy silence. Raising a brow, I glanced back at Ghost, only to pause at the look on his face. He wore a friendly smile, but sweat rolled down his nape, and his posture was stiff with tension. A second too late, I remembered that I should be worried, too.

We had the most important job of the year tomorrow, and not just because of the loot we stood to gain. The kingdom of Scaldril is divided into four provinces, and each province is ruled by a House, which each answers to the king. 

We're stealing from our province's House Balthasar – the most powerful and vicious House. Under their rule, everyone got what they deserved. The poor stay poor, the rich stay rich, and enemies of the House are maimed first and questioned second.

Ghost finally shook his head. "Haven't seen him since last week."

As the minutes ticked by, I began to sweat. It was nearly midnight, and Chick still hadn't shown. Just as I was about to step out of line and search for him, Drax's favorite crony arrived.

"Open up," Viper barked. 

Instantly, the conversations stopped, and we shuffled into line, our backs pressed against the wall and our coin bags open for inspection. I was the only one who made quota with underground cage fighting. The rest strong armed local businesses, twisting high sums out of people that could barely afford to feed themselves. 

It was pathetic, really. Being a raider used to mean something; we used to pull off grand heists that got the whole kingdom talking. Now we were the vultures and leeches of society, practically begging our neighbours for scraps — scraps that we didn't even get to keep ourselves.

As Viper moved down the line, one of two things would happen. The best outcome was losing a month's worth of hard earned gold to his grubby hands. The worst was if Viper decided your haul was insufficient.