In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 76: Azee's Struggle

One wavering strike with the shortened bed stump was not enough to deliver the knock-out blow Azee had been expecting. The weapon's jagged edge grazed Dragura's left cheek, thrusting her back against the open door and into its silver knob, which came into punishing contact with the lumbar region of the Mistress's lumbar spine. Momentarily heaved off balance, Dragura issued a sharp cry. Trembling hands with spotless pink nails flew to her face, dabbing in disbelief at the blood which leaked from three thin, vertical wounds that had shredded her porcelain skin like claws.

In less than the two heart-beats it had taken to surprise her, Dragura had deftly righted herself and now advanced toward Azee with a wicked chuckle, one hand still nursing the wound on her cheek.

"Silly girl," admonished the Mistress with mock ferocity. "Haven't you learned in all your time at the Fortress that the Queen does not care for surprises?"

With a garbled squeal, Azee made a mad rush for the doorway, hoping to side-step Dragura at the last crucial moment and beat her to the corridor. If she could only run quick enough, then perhaps--

"I do not care for surprises!" Dragura's face twisted into a beastly leer as Azee attempted her desperate getaway. As luck (or lack thereof) would have it, Azee was unable to take those last few reckless steps toward freedom. Dragura's taloned hand shot out like an arrow and wrapped itself in Azee's long, thin curls, jerking the frightened girl's face until it was mere inches away from Dragura's own. The two were so close at that moment that Azee could smell her Mistress's breath; it was thick and rancid, like the odor of raw meat.

"W- what do you want of me?" Azee begged. "Franek is dead. You've done away with her, I just know it! And there is nothing more I can tell you of--" She stopped suddenly and clamped her jaw shut. Dragura tightened her grip until the hairs loosened from Azee's scalp, but still she did not budge. Azee's teeth clenched and ground together until a blue vein, as thick around as her little finger, popped out near the side of her neck.

"Of what? What is there you have left to tell me, you little traitor?" Dragura asked in her most honeyed, sugar-sweet voice. "Are you going to tell me how many more of my handmaidens have plotted against me? Will you reveal how much training the Draca have received and whether you and Franek were somehow able to turn them against me?"

When Azee did not answer, Dragura used both hands to slam the girl against the door post. "Answer me, conspirator!" she shrilled.

"Alright! Alright!" Azee crossed her arms over her crumpled face in defeat. "I shall tell you everything you need to know...if only you tell me what you've done with Franek. Please-- she was the only friend I had!"

"Franek is alive-- for now. But try another silly stunt like that again, and she will be food for the water draga beneath my bridge! ...Do you understand?"

Azee nodded miserably.

"Good." Dragura appeared visibly relaxed for the first time. "Then lead me to the attic, dear girl. If it is true that you have been training the Draca without my knowledge, then it is time for us to test your success. One or more of those foul creatures will be needed to fly me to Hidden Well, and I shall have you choose the best of the best. Are we agreed?" Dragura held out one hand; Azee hesitantly slipped hers into Dragura's grasp.

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Hugging her arms, which had broken out in goose-bumps, Azee stood shivering off to one side near the open attic door while Dragura appraised the wary dragons. The matronly woman stood with her hands on her hips, chin lifted and a dangerous glint in her jade-colored eyes. She paced back and forth slowly, deliberately, as though weighing every feature: the delicate, pine hue of each scallop-shaped scale; the length of the tail, which would be of crucial importance while flying since these stretched out fully in the back to balance the body; the girth and strength of the hind and front legs; and the span of each atrocious-looking wing. Dragura was careful not to cross the line which Franek had drawn to separate the Draca from their handlers, but the suspicious animals, unused to Dragura's scent and presence, acted almost as if she had. A few of them growled imperceptibly. Eyes rolled, displaying the whites, and heads tossed impatiently while claws were sheathed and unsheathed.