Dragon's Siege by Daniel Potter

Author:Daniel Potter [Potter, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fallen Kitten Productions
Published: 2019-09-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Fear fire uncontrolled. For should a blaze get hot enough, large enough, it will birth the salamanders. Ten legs of flame hungry for anything that has escaped its mother.

Seek Fire, Chief of the Turtle Clan of the Low Rivers Tribe, Lorekeeper

“Yaki, I don’t think this is the right tunnel.” Gama’s tone had pitched up to an annoying octave as Yaki fiddled with the door in front of them.

“Went left,” Yaki grumbled. The door had not been used in some time, and its iron latch shed rust as she turned the handle.

“You have a strange definition of left,” Gama said as Yaki swung the door open. Light made her blink away the glare of the morning sun. She let out a snort, expelling a small plume of smoke from her nose. Only the sounds of scattered birdsong came to her ears. They were nowhere close to a market, any market. Shooting a warning glance at Gama, she stalked up the incline and into an alleyway. The tunnel door had been styled to resemble a cellar entrance for the house above it. The air greeted her with a lungful of horse manure and a total absence of people.

“Yaki,” Gama whispered urgently, but Yaki ignored him as she scanned the still houses that lined either side of the alley. Mud-brick construction itched at her brain. Where were they?

“Yaki, your eye!” Gama grasped her shoulder. She whirled to face him.

He flinched back. “Seven gods!”

“What?!” Yaki nearly shouted at him and then abruptly realized she had both eyes open.

“It’s, uh, shiny?” Gama gulped.

Her mind dredging up rude descriptions of dragon anatomy, Yaki dug in her bag. She pulled a bundle of linen from her bag and unwrapped the mirror shard of glass. “Bungholes,” she swore in Draconic, covering her mouth with her free hand. In the light of the alleyway, her eye, the same one that had been run through with a rapier, shone like a piece of glass. The golden iris, speckled with flakes of silver, seemed to be composed of overlapping leaves of metal that hovered on the edge of mechanical. The iris extended outward, to the very edges of the eye, no white to be seen. Even the tear duct had become silvered. Experimentally, Yaki probed it with a finger: warm and hard, smooth as a piece of glass. Instinct battled her to close the eye, but touching it produced no discomfort. She shut it, and still the rim of her eyelid caught the light. No eyelashes; rather, tiny golden scales glittered along her lid’s edge. .

The shard dropped from loose fingers and she clasped the sides of her head as if she sought to prevent it from bursting with the despair that welled up inside. It had come for her heart, her stomach, and even her words. Now it came for her face? It really was spreading within her. Taking her over. She thought back to the night before. Had she eaten any of the meat the hunters brought back?

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