Fugitive's Flight (Dragon Castaway Book 2)

Chapter 8

Hello All I'm finally back. Unfortunately my computer shit the bed a couple weeks after leaving for a long voyage so instead of the 6 or 7 chapters I'd hoped to get done I only managed two still here they both are for your enjoyment.

Jake allowed himself a subtle smile as the pair

walked down the wide stone road that connected the east and west neighborhoods of the town. Large oil lamps provided a soft glowing ambience that contrasted nicely with the steadily darkening twilight sky above.

His smile deepened as he felt Wyena interlace her fingers with his own. Looking over Jake saw that for one of the few times that they'd been in civilization since their escape she looked happy and content instead of worried. For a short time at least, they were not a pair of high value fugitives looking to bring down an overmighty dragon lord but an ordinary couple enjoying the evening.

They had asked around for a reputable tavern that would accept them attired in decent but worn trail garb. All had pointed them in the same direction. A merchant class drinking establishment known as The Last Leap. Seeing as the town was the last place of consequence before the border territory Jake supposed it did have an air of levity to it if nothing else.

In his time carving a path of somewhat inadvertent destruction through this new world, he had noticed that the cultural expression of its people tended to lean more to the literal than the metaphorical or abstract.

He had previously wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing for the people in this place, but Jake wasn't remotely enough of a philosopher or internet troll to cast an opinion on what mode of thinking was better. It was an amusing thought to ponder though.

"Ah, Realism vs Impressionism, Communism vs Capitalism, Coke vs Pepsi, Mountain Dew vs the healthier alternative of snorting Cocaine, the great debate over the difficult philosophical questions of our time rages on." He mused in silence as the pair entered a well-lit neighborhood that was comparatively free of refuse. Small groups of people milled about the streets alternatively talking, drinking, and listing to various groups of minstrels play.

Jake fought to suppress an involuntary smile as he over heard a small group of people drunkenly describing his exploits in Rindar's palace. Or at least the wildly exaggerated stories that had sprung up in place of the scant details of what had actually happened in the palace.

He my not have had the best memory but he was fairly certain that he had not personally transformed into a dragon and burned the palace to the ground. Although in this case wild rumors would probably be better than the truth. Regular dragons were destructive enough, but dragon dive bombers would add a whole new level of carnage to the arsenals of dragon lords who already couldn't have given less of a shit about their people.

"Definitely a merchant-class neighborhood" Jake thought as he dragged his attention back to the present and scanned his surroundings while trying his best to avoid being obvious about it. Fortunately the people around him were too engrossed in seeking a good time to notice them.

Making their way around the various groups of revelers. Jake spotted a large overhanging sign identifying it as The Last Leap tavern. From the outside the place looked rustic in the old Greek style that Jake had come to associate with this part of his new world. The place was as solidly merchant class as the neighborhood surrounding it, neither as opulent as the Blue Jewell in Dragon's Spire nor did it have the shadiness of The Runner's Rest in the slums.

The sign was mounted on a set of three meter tall limestone pillars that enclosed a raised outdoor veranda situated in front of a large wooden door. On top of the veranda were several round wooden tables occupied by varying groups of patrons who were alternatively drinking and engaging in conversation.