League of Improbable Riders

16

Shaska warily made her way down the hill, one hand clutching her bow and the other wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sheathed dagger.

This was no ordinary dagger, it was one known as a Shadow Blade, and was specially crafted of a rare material that would never break and would never catch the light, no matter how bright the sun. It was thin enough to slip easily between a pair of ribs, yet it was strong. Only dragon fire could destroy it, and she had sharpened it so that it would drive through solid bone like cheese. She had named it Berach which meant Sharp.

Shaska progressed down the sloping hill, rather than try to struggle down the cliff; she might attract attention by that route, and this way she would enter through the town's gates, a weary traveller who had journeyed far to attend the festival and would be received graciously—she hoped.

She walked in the dark around the village's stolid walls and finally arrived at the gate. There were no guards, only two torches set on either side of the entrance. The walls were made of solid wood, and there was no actual gate, just a gap in the wood. It seemed like a pretty silly way to defend a village from dragons: all that wood.

With a shrug Shaska stepped inside the forbidding arch, fingering Berach nervously.

Shouts and drunken singing drifted through the cool night air toward her from the centre of town and she shivered.

Bolstering up her courage Shaska made her way deeper into the empty streets, gagging slightly at the stench of faeces—humans' and animals' alike.

She wandered aimlessly through the streets, until she abruptly realized that she didn't have a hope of finding Keera unless she mingled with the villagers. With a shudder she made her decision and strode swiftly among the buildings until she emerged in the centre of the village, bathed in the feisty glow of the crackling fire; encompassed by its stifling heat right before a crowded bench seat.

She noticed, with a sense of relief, that everyone was mostly occupied in eating, so managed to conceal her bow and secure a place for herself amongst the rowdy towns-folk without comment.

The smells of beef and pork that wafted through the air reminded her tummy of how empty it was and she snagged a lamb-leg with a knife as it passed by. She refrained from using her own blade, however, as only riders possessed Shadow Blades; instead slipping a dagger out of the sheath that was strapped around a man beside her.

The girl across from them noticed her actions but said nothing, a cheeky smile playing at her lips. Shaska ignored her.

The atmosphere was jovial and boisterous, with hills to eat and oceans to drink; Shaska cautiously watched out the corner of her eye until the man next to her was on his sixth mug of beer before addressing him.

"Mighty good night, i'n it?" She jogged his elbow and he turned. "Who's Regyan got for the sacrifice? Hopefully not the likes 'f us, eh?"

He eyed her in drunk astonishment. "Where've you ben?" he asked incredulously, his words slurred. "Un'er a rock? Why, not three days ago we captured a Ruvin'." He spat the word out as if it tasted bad. "She's a beaut, yep; but her looks can't 'elp much. She's oo's gonna pay th' price for a noo chief." He chuckled, swaying slightly and Shaska hurriedly asked her next question before he passed out.

"A Ruving!" she did her best to act surprised. "Well, well, whaddaya know! I'vn't heard anything about this. Where's she ben hiding?"

"Un'er th' Dragons' Keep, o' course," he grunted, then fell backwards with a dull thud.

Shaska looked down at his unconscious body. "Well that was disappointing," she said, and resumed eating.

After a minute or two, the girl previously across from Shaska plopped down beside her.