The High King's Vengeance by Steven Poore

Author:Steven Poore [Poore, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kristell Ink, Grimbold Books
Published: 2016-09-22T23:00:00+00:00

They did not have long to wait. Before Arca could finish the remainder of the bottle, there were sounds outside the tavern. Cassia rose and faced the door, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Arca shifted on the bench behind her, his own blade still laid across his lap.

The man who came through the doorway caused Cassia’s flesh to crawl in recognition. A man she had never met before, yet it was impossible not to name him for what he was. Tall and sharp-featured, his grace and presence alone would have marked him as other than human, even if his skin had not been formed entirely of copper-coloured scales. Unlike Craw, Cassia saw immediately, he had not taken on a clothed form. She deliberately focused her gaze above his waist, refusing to think about the heat that crept slowly into her cheeks.

He had golden eyes and a disarming smile, but while the effect should have been overpowering it actually seemed quite unfocused. It took her a moment to realise why. The dragon had spent hundreds of years dormant beneath the hills outside Lyriss, and he was out of practice at smiling.

The dragon took in the tavern with a single glance before focussing his attention on her. His smile broadened. “Cassia Cat’s-Paw, blood of the North. You have called us awake.”

She hoped the dragon could not see her surprise. “You know who I am.”

“Of course.”

Cassia bit back the question foremost in her mind. “And you know why I awoke you.”

“Of course.”

The silence between them threatened to extend from heartbeats into minutes. Cassia stared into the dragon’s eyes, and all the tales of the Age of Talons poured through her thoughts, jumbled into an unintelligible whole. Advice, warnings, and old wives’ tales. She struggled to pick them loose.

“Then you know more than I do,” Arca muttered behind her.

The dragon’s gaze snapped away from her and Cassia realised she had been holding her breath. “Three true statements. Man is rarely so honest, Arca the Brave.”

She heard Arca’s sharp intake of breath and she held out a hand in warning, praying he had enough sense not to rise to the dragon’s provocations. Questions, she told herself. She should try not to ask questions in case she incurred more debts to these damned creatures. Craw alone was bad enough.

“You must have longed for company these past years,” she said at last. “You should join us for a drink.”

The dragon’s attention moved back to her again. “A noble invitation. But unnecessary. My appetite is diminished, and I have eaten my fill. My cousin Feyenn still hungers, however.”

Cassia allowed herself the small victory. She had learned the dragon’s name without first having to ask it.

“And, now we have been correctly introduced,” Alcibaber continued, shattering that conceit immediately, “perhaps you will explain why you have allowed our rest to be disturbed.”

“Me? It was not my doing – it was Baum’s fault. His idea. He wanted Caenthell to rise again.”

“He did,” Alcibaber said. “But so did you.

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