The Dragon Games

Quota

In the kingdom of Scaldril, if you want to know how prosperous an area is, just look at how flammable its buildings are.

At the heart of the capital, Castle Arragon was constructed entirely of hydra glass, partly to ward off dragon attacks, mostly to ensure the high nobility never suffered long without a shiny surface to admire their in-bred reflections.

Half a mile away, the stone buildings began, reserved for a slightly less intolerable class of people – the merchants, doctors, and clergies.

And then there was the burrow, the district on the outskirts of the city wall, where the rickety wooden buildings rattled against each other with every breath of wind. By day, peasants and serfs flocked the narrow cobblestone streets. By night, they barricaded their doors in vain attempts to keep out the raiders.

Some called the raiders the downfall of good society. I called them good fun.

Used to, that is.

Lately, the crew felt more like a prison than a home, a fat green wart on the tip of my nose. Especially on Fridays.

Every Friday, Drax, the new captain of the raiders, sent one of his cronies to collect spoils from the raiders. Even tonight, the night before the Balthasar heist.

Under the cover of night, the raiders lined up against the back of an alleyway. The air was thick and foul, reeking of an unsolved sewer problem, but no one dared complain. As if Drax's name wasn't deterrent enough, Rauuk prowled across the rooftops, the wooden panels crying under the dragon's six-ton weight.

When the knights rolled into town for the qualifying tournament, they spoke of dragons in the highest regard. But if the rule was 'all dragons are beautiful,' then Rauuk was the exemption. Rauuk was like one of the mutts running wild down the burrow's darkest alleyways, the result of too many generations of careless inbreeding.

His hide had no real color – it was the gray goop left behind after mixing too many paints together – and his limbs were short and misshapen. But even with a wonky snout, his teeth could tear through steel like it was paper.

My Divine made me powerful among humans, but it was nothing compared to a dragon. No one wanted a reminder of what happened to those who angered Rauuk, least of all me.

My new alias was reminder enough.

As the minutes ticked by, I began to worry. It was nearly midnight, and all raiders were accounted for except Marcus. But before I could step out of line to search for him, Drax's most loyal crony arrived.

"Open up," Viper ordered, then went down the line checking our bags.

Once he counted a raider's coins, he tucked them in his jacket, to never be seen again. If a raider fell short of quota, the rest of us had to stare ahead, doing our best impersonation of a blind, deaf man as our fellow raider cried, begged, and screamed for help.

The days of loyalty and comradery among the raiders were long gone. Drax ruled with a hierarchy of fear.

The further Viper moved down the line, the harder it was to keep still. Marcus was running out of time. Falling short of quota was bad, but the punishment was nowhere near as severe as not showing up at all. Just then, a soft tap brushed my shoulder.

Marcus had arrived, flushed-faced and breathing hard. Wordlessly, I stepped aside to make room, letting Marcus slide beside me like he had been there all along. But all of my relief disappeared the moment Marcus pulled out his coin bag. There was barely any weight to it all.

No way he made quota.

"You're short," I hissed, barely moving my lips. "What happened to the money we made last night?"

"I was pickpocketed on the way home. I didn't realize what happened until everything was already gone. This is all I managed to make back."

"Viper won't accept excuses." In between kicks, he'd tell you how stupid you were for walking around with large sums in crook-infested areas.

Marcus raised his chin, putting on a brave face, but he was pale as a ghost. "I know."

A low growl rose from Rauuk's throat. We whipped forward, becoming quiet and still as statues. Marcus' news did not surprise me in the slightest. Everything going smoothly would have surprised me, because Marcus was quite possibly the unluckiest person I had ever met.

Just two weeks after he became a full-fledged member of the raiders, Drax rose to power, claiming ownership of Rauuk and becoming our new captain.

At first, Marcus was defiant. But after our first botched escape plan, Drax dragged Marcus into his office, and when Marcus stepped out, he looked twenty years older.

There was an edge to his eyes, his voice. A hollowness that never really faded. At his worst, he looked one bad moment away from snapping. At his best — actually, I can't remember the last time I had seen him okay, let alone at his best.

"You're short."

My head jerked up. Viper had stopped in front of Marcus, rattling his sparse bag. Except for Crankhand – a bit of a sadist, that one – all of the raiders looked ahead or at their feet, anywhere but Marcus.

"Sorry," I burst out. I stepped forward, lifting my bag. "I was holding on to Marcus' share. Got it all mixed up with mine."

Viper rooted through my bag, which was worth enough to cover both of our quotas, and not one copper more. I made damn sure of that. "This is all you have, Nine?"

"Ay," I said.

His alias was Viper, but he had the eyes of a rat. They bore into me, beedy and small, glittering in the dim night. "Are you sure?"

What, did he want my spleen, too? Swallowing my annoyance, I lowered my eyes, making my shoulders small and hunched.

"I'm real sorry," I said. "I'll try doing better next week, I swear."

And by that I meant I'd be long gone by next week, laughing as I lounged on the deck of a boat, wishing them nothing but the worst. I had not told Marcus about the escape plan yet.

He was in such a fragile state that if something went wrong, false hope might break him. But now freedom was so close I could practically taste it. The salt of the sea melting on my tongue, the ocean breeze whipping Marcus' hair.

Viper sent me a foul look but moved on, letting me leave the line and head for my tenement. I rented a chamber in a small building three blocks away from the city wall and a mile away from any raiders. The distance did little to comfort me. Rauuk's nose was more powerful than any bloodhound.

If Drax wanted to find me, he'd find me, no matter where in the kingdom I ran. My only hope of getting away was the ticket hidden beneath my floorboards.

Marcus and I would board the fastest ship in the kingdom, a ship known for helping troubled individuals escape without a trace.

We would be out of Rauuk's range before Drax even began his search.