An Assassin in the Land of Dragons

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Nearly a decade before the arrival of the terrifying species, war was an epidemic. The battles were constant and in every country. Families were brutally torn apart daily. Boys were trained to be soldiers, and women were prepared to become widows. There was no true life: only survival.

Algen Minderell, a mere boy of no noble status, had left his home in search of the creatures. Even in his long absence, he was mocked. Dragons were only a myth, and everyone knew it. Even people who believed in their long-ago existence were considered loony.

The jokes stopped when Algen, having grown into a fit and bearded man, returned bringing with him a tribe of people and some twenty dragons. The tribe of people bore heavily decorated flesh and strange abilities. They were immediately feared and made their place near the castle, as no town was comfortable with their powerful presence.

Algen had proved the world wrong, and rather than use the oversized reptiles for evil, he devoted their abilities to keeping the peace. After all, who would dare go up against a slew of dragons? A single fire-breathing beast could decimate an army in a matter of minutes. After Algen presented the beasts to King Farick, and word got out about their incredible abilities, battles were surrendered overnight. The king finally ruled over peacefully governed lands. Algen was appointed Monarch of War and was charged with keeping the newfound peace at any cost.

Peace was a new concept for the people. War had been raging for so long there were entire generations that had never known the serenity of a life without it. In order to prevent any future wars, men who attempted to incite conflict against ruling powers were publicly burned and eaten by the dragons. It was a cruel spectacle but no worse than losing thousands of lives on a battlefield. Despite this, life had not immediately transitioned into an easy paradise. There were men who had been raised to only know violence in preparation for their once inevitable military service, and they found themselves suddenly useless and oftentimes shunned from the larger providences. Many of them took up hunting and butchering animals to feed the dragons. It was a skillset greatly needed, as each dragon could eat hundreds of pounds of meat in a single day. And the dragon population was growing; a new dragon was birthed nearly every year. Although the creatures were magnificent, their abilities were difficult to employ. Peace had been achieved and was well kept because of their existence. Outside of that, dragons served as the sole method of execution for criminals deserving of such fiery and permanent justice. Despite this, there were some former soldiers who could never shake the urge to kill.

Elijah Renley raised an Incapacitator to his lips and inhaled deeply. His client stared at him inquisitively.

“You still smoke those damn things?” The bespectacled man asked bluntly, shaking his head. “I could never get around the flavor.” It was a remnant from the wars. Soldiers would regularly fight battles one after the other, and the Incapacitator helped to ease some of their pain. It was thinned parchment soaked in whiskey and dried, then filled with crushed poppy seeds, rolled, and lit for inhalation.

Elijah released the smoke steadily and ignored the question. “You’ve got a problem with a thief,” he stated simply, summing up the lengthy rant the baker had previously delivered. The pudgy man nodded, his double chins jiggling ridiculously.

“Ay. Scrawny little shit comes in, distracts me, and his short little friend steals my bread. I’ve notified the Watchers, but they don’t bother. Seems some crime’s just too small to be handled. They’ve done it a few times now to me, my wife, and our daughter. It’s affecting our wages.”

Elijah looked around the cellar of the bakery, contemplating the price for killing the baker’s two thieves. He looked down at his Incapacitator, considering another drag. “I’ll do what needs done. Ten blue gems.”

“Ten blue?” The baker stuttered. “That’s two months’ profit!”

Elijah dismissed the idea of inhaling more of his pungent vice, and he stubbed it out on the metal wrist cuff he wore for that very purpose. “You want two thieves dead – that’s the cost.”

“Supposin’ they weren’t thieves and just pesky nobodies – what then?” The baker put his hands on his hips as if to challenge the assassin.

Elijah chuckled. Everyone seemed to think they could negotiate the cost of taking life, as if it were a simple task. He tucked the Incapacitator into the metal clasp attached to his cuff for later use. “Pesky nobodies would cost twenty blue.”

The baker appeared flabbergasted at this, no doubt assuming Elijah was merely annoyed with his futile attempt at haggling. He stuttered and appeared flummoxed for a few moments as he considered his next words.

Elijah needed to kill. It was what he was good at – maybe the only thing, other than making Incapacitators. But he preferred killing people who required such justice, and his price reflected it. Murderers were cheap. It was part of a set of morals he had created for himself based on his deceased wife’s personal values. Even after her death, Elijah worried about letting her down. She wouldn’t have wanted him killing, but he told himself that at least he was helping society, albeit in a twisted fashion.

As he took in the sight of the shelves of bread, Elijah’s stomach growled. “How about food and whiskey? I’ll knock the cost to eight blue if you welcome me with a meal each time I arrive. Before you go thinking I’ll be here every day, bear in mind you may go months without seeing me.”

The baker furrowed his brow and dropped his arms. Relief was clear on his face but was quickly followed by a sly grin as he realized there was indeed room to negotiate. “Seven blue, and you can have as much bread and whiskey as you can drink.”

“Careful. You’ve no idea how much whiskey I can put down.” Elijah was a large man with a muscular build, and he had plenty of memories that left him craving the dismissal of sobriety.

The baker sighed and wiped his hands on his apron. “Eight blue it is. Free whiskey and bread any time you visit – a reasonable amount of course.” Elijah nodded and shook the baker’s fat little hand. “I’ll fix you up a meal, and we can discuss your method.”

As Elijah tore through a half loaf of bread and a small bowl of meager meat stew, the baker described the two thieves vaguely, claiming he never got a good enough look at them because of the dirt on their faces.

It was because of this that Elijah found himself waiting in the alley adjacent to the bakery the next morning. The baker had insisted on giving a signal when he spotted the thieves. If they were so brass as to steal in broad daylight, Elijah would have to make a quiet kill in order to evade the eyes of any witnesses. He readied his blade inside the sleeve of his shirt.

Outside the alley, the streets were busy with vendors and children playing. It should have been a joyous sight, but Elijah only found it strange. The cobblestone streets had long been clean of the blood from repeated town pillages, but the visual was still clear in his memory. Children had remained hidden in those days.

The baker had offered breakfast, but Elijah had refused. He enjoyed a feeling of hunger before a kill. Food had often been scarce on the battlefield, and he thought it made him lighter on his feet. Besides that, he believed that a hungry man was a desperate man and that he could take lives with greater ease and no burden of satiety causing him to consider more peaceful options.

“Out with ya, ya shite thieves!” The baker’s angry cry was impossible to miss. Elijah cursed under his breath. They had agreed upon a very subtle signal so as not to draw attention to the fleeing criminals, as that would ultimately draw attention to Elijah. Perhaps these are different thieves, Elijah wondered, having no intention of killing any new targets for free. “Half-price bread, today only!” The baker yelled abruptly. That was the signal. It had been intended not only to let Elijah know of the thieves’ arrival but to also draw attention to the bakery. People would not be looking toward the thieves, and they would all see the baker and thereby establish his alibi in case anything went wrong.

Elijah peeked around the corner of the alley to see two cloaked figures racing towards him. He waited for them to turn the corner before reacting. He overestimated the height of the shorter thief, who slipped just under his arm and continued running, but he successfully seized the taller one and dragged his blade across the thief’s throat. Fast and quiet, he thought as he felt the man’s struggle cease almost as quickly as it had begun. He dropped the man and started after the shorter thief, who had already stopped and was facing him. To Elijah’s surprise, it was a girl. He froze. He had killed women before, but this was a child. She must have been around ten years old.

The girl’s face was aghast as she looked at her partner’s crumpled body. Elijah glanced at the boy, too. He’d been tall, and the cloak had disguised his physique, but this was a boy no greater than fourteen. The girl let out a scream. Elijah whipped his head around and ran at her. In one smooth motion, he whipped the back of his hand across her still-screaming mouth. The sudden collision swept her off her feet. She hit the ground with a soft thud, and her ratty black cloak settled around her unmoving body. Elijah knew it was too late. Her scream had been too loud not to invite curiosity. He heard multiple sets of footsteps scuffling loudly toward the alley.

Elijah cursed aloud and shoved the blade back into his sleeve, slicing his wrist as he did so. The sudden and unexpected pain caused him to flex his hand, and the blade fell to the ground. Before he could turn to flee, two Watchers arrived at the entrance to the alley.

Elijah stood perfectly still. The Watchers’ red cloaks settled around them as they came to a halt at the deceased boy’s body. After a moment, one of the men knelt to check the boy, but the growing pool of blood gave away his fate. The man stood back up and immediately looked down the alley to Elijah and the girl.

“What happened here?”

Elijah’s eyes flitted between the two Watchers. He’d never been caught before. Not wanting to have to kill two officials, he cleared his throat and concocted a lie. “When I entered the alley, the boy appeared to be hurting this girl. I intervened and wrestled his knife away.” Elijah motioned toward the bloodied knife lying on the ground near his feet, then added, “Took an injury in the process”, and pulled up his sleeve to reveal his accidental wound. The Watchers took in the information but appeared nonetheless suspicious.

“Why’s the boy dead?” Elijah did not answer the question. He could not think of a justifiable reason to slit the throat of a person who had already been disarmed. The two Watchers exchanged looks. One of them looked around the corner to the street. “Captain’s coming. He’ll help us sort this out.”

Elijah mentally scrambled for a half believable story. He glanced down at the girl to find her still unconscious. He knelt down with counterfeit concern for her in order to help cement his story.

“How is she then?” One of the Watchers asked as they both continued to keep their distance.

“Out cold, but she’ll make it.” There was a bruise forming on her jawline where Elijah’s knuckles had made contact, but she was breathing. He almost wished she wasn’t. On one hand, he’d never killed a child and had no interest in starting. On the other hand, she was a witness, and he’d have to forfeit half his price if he allowed her to live. The baker would be displeased, and that could mean he’d identify Elijah to the Watchers as an assassin. What should have been a quick job had become a precarious affair.

The captain turned the corner, clad in a similar red cloak and sporting a golden helmet to identify his greater authority. He initially stopped at the boy’s body just as the first two had, but upon seeing the blood, he didn’t bother to kneel or check for signs of life. As the two Watchers began to explain what little they had witnessed, the Captain took a good look at Elijah.

“Eli?” He asked with sudden realization. He removed his helmet. Elijah could not believe his luck.

“Morton.” A fellow former soldier who had served with Elijah on more than one gory front.

A smile broke out across the captain’s face. “It’s been years, old friend.” Elijah smiled and nodded. The captain turned to his subordinates and dismissed them.

“Are you sure, Captain? We’re not sure who the real danger is, and, well he’s got a knife, sir.” The captain looked back at the young man with a look of impatience.

“At his feet, Clive. What good is a knife unless it is at least within reach?” As if to emphasize his point, Morton tapped the sword at his hip. Clive nodded and quickly left with his partner.

“So you’re a Watcher,” Elijah commented as Morton began to close the distance between them.

“I was made Captain two years ago, but I started as one of them. It was back when the king put out that notice about soldiers’ skills being needed to keep peace on a smaller scale. It’s boring compared to what you and I were once a part of, but it keeps thatch over my head and food in my belly.”

Elijah smirked. “I was never one for routine.”

“Or obedience, as I recall.” Morton surveyed the scene once more. “What did happen here?”

Elijah held some confidence in their past friendship, but he found himself uncertain whether Morton would choose fond memories over duty. “I came down the alley and noticed the boy hurting this girl here. I went to her defense, the boy took the knife to me, and I took it from him.” Elijah kept his lie concise. Morton looked back at the boy for several seconds before kneeling to study the girl. Elijah’s eyes went to the blade instinctively, but he reminded himself that Morton was a friend, and he planted his focus elsewhere.

“Looks like he gave her a pretty good smack. Seems odd, though. These two are brother and sister. They’ve been on the streets the last few months after their mother died.” Morton stood back up.

“And their father?”

“Dead for years. One of the last battles.” Morton glanced at the knife on the ground before picking it up. “So he attacks his sister for one reason or another, you react and get sliced, and then what? Seems unnecessary you’d have to cut his throat at that point.”

Elijah nodded and watched the blood drops fall from his wrist to the dusty cobblestones at his feet. “I thought a soldier like you would understand. That feeling of pain…it still does something to me. Makes me react more than I should. Gets me feeling like I’m still in a war zone.”

Morton shook his head. “I had a tough time getting past all that. Part of the reason I joined the Watchers was to help me learn to control it.” Morton walked away from Elijah and back to the boy’s body. “The law isn’t able to see how that’s any different than unjustified murder, but the fact is these two are orphaned street rats who won’t be missed anyway. They were a bit of a nuisance, actually. The local baker wanted them arrested, but the King doesn’t like putting on trials for small crimes, especially those committed by children.” At hearing this Elijah felt his face grow hot. So the baker knew they were children. He remembered how the baker had claimed not to have a good enough description of the thieves. More likely he didn’t want Elijah to think twice about killing them. Morton handed Elijah the blade and waved his arm in the direction of the deceased. “Clean this up. I’ll take care of the situation. You won’t be questioned further.” Morton turned to leave before adding, “It’s good seeing you, Eli.”

“And you, brother.” Elijah watched the captain replace his helmet and disappear around the corner. He let go of the breath he’d been holding. His wagon was parked at the other end of the alley, obscuring the scene from the view of the adjacent street. He nudged the girl with his foot to be sure of her condition. Unconscious, she looked even younger than she had when he’d first seen her. She and her brother had most likely only been stealing what they needed in order to survive. They hadn’t been ruthless criminals or despicable thieves. They were children with no one to take care of them. Children of a man cut down on the battlefield. He knew he couldn’t leave her to be used and abused by a town with no sympathy.

Elijah wiped his blade clean and tucked it carefully into his sleeve. He had to move quickly. The cover of his wagon was already open, revealing various supplies he kept. He wrapped a cloth around his injury to stop the bleeding, then he turned his attention to the boy. His body was surprisingly light, reinforcing Elijah’s belief that they’d been starving. He set the body in his wagon then went back and carefully scooped up the girl. He laid her inside gently and decided to bind her hands and feet, lest she jump from the moving wagon and cause him trouble with the townsfolk. He used ropes for her limbs and wrapped a long scrap of cloth around her mouth to silence any screams she might try to release.

As Elijah lowered the wagon cover to hide its contents, the baker came around the corner. Elijah again cursed under his breath at the man’s inability to follow simple instructions. “That’s quite a lot of blood!” the chubby man exclaimed, seeming to enjoy the sight of the dark liquid.

“I told you I’d come to you when I was finished.” Elijah used a chain to secure the cover to the wagon bed.

“I’m sorry, it’s just with all the commotion, I didn’t know what to expect. So they’re both…”

“Dead,” Elijah stated coolly. He had decided against telling the baker about the girl. The thieves were out of the baker’s life; the job’s purpose was fulfilled. The baker couldn’t help but smile at the news, and Elijah felt another twinge of anger now that he knew the baker was aware they were so young.

“Well, a deal’s a deal. Are their bodies in there?” The baker looked past Elijah to the wagon.

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to look at the bodies of children.” Elijah said it with a coldness that warned the baker not to insist upon visual confirmation. The baker seemed downtrodden at this admonition, but he fished into his apron pocket and pulled out the gems. Elijah collected them and slipped them into a small metal compartment on his belt.

“I’d be happy to fix you a meal,” the baker offered cheerfully. Elijah visualized himself eating bread while the baker begged him for details about the assassination.

“The sooner I get out of here, the better.” The baker started to speak, but Elijah added, “for both of us.” The baker shut his mouth when the implication sunk in.

Once Elijah was far enough outside of the town, he pulled off the road and went to the back of the wagon. The girl was still unconscious, and he shoved her to the side so he could pull out her dead brother. Elijah dropped the body to the ground then lifted a secret compartment in the wooden wagon bed, revealing various weapons. He chose his largest butcher knife.

The shrieks of dragons brought a feeling of relief to Elijah. The castle would be in sight soon, and the girl hadn’t stirred. He had half a mind to bring her out of the covered wagon just so he could watch her face be taken over with fear at the sight of the enormous beasts. Most people had seen the dragons from a distance as they soared through the sky. They would be in awe of the wingspan and the way the ground seemed to shake when one of them produced any vocalization. The dragons were frequently flown over the lands as a reminder to all citizens to keep the peace. The tribe of people could control them with some kind of magic. This was not the flashy magic of town performers who entertained passersby in exchange for gems. This magic was real and powerful. Elijah had seen it before and found that it terrified him like nothing else ever had. The Decorated Strangers, as some people referred to them, could look into the eyes of any dragon and begin to share a mind with it. The person’s face would go slack as the dragon’s face would take on a look of remarkable understanding. Then it would act – usually flying off to one of the lands while its tribal human awaited its return.

This magic was not required for the executions. For those the dragons were trained and acted as any trained animal would. The king would speak the criminal’s sentence. Algen would speak a word in the dragon’s direction. The criminal would be engulfed in flames from the creature’s mouth. Elijah couldn’t remember having ever seen one of the Decorated Strangers at an execution. He knew very little about them, but they seemed to be uncomfortable witnessing death. They, in fact, did not care to take part in any traditions of the civilized lands.

The oxen stopped as the Valley of Dragons came into view. The night sky was dark save for a large sliver of moonlight that cut through the clouds and touched the ground. Large boulder-like shapes were scattered over the grass and at first looked like a small mountain range, but Elijah knew they were actually resting dragons.

There were no gates or walls surrounding the valley; no one in their right mind would enter the area willingly. Unless they had a damn good reason.

Elijah raised up the reins of the oxen, and they understood to move forward without him having to snap the thick leather strands. As his wagon neared the first giant, canvas tents scattered around the valley came into view. Elijah was sure to travel slowly and act respectfully so as not to disturb any of the tribespeople.

The oxen came to a stop once more, and this time Elijah could not convince them to continue forward. As he walked to the back of the wagon, the tell-tale sounds of a person struggling erupted. He sighed as he lifted the canvas to see the girl glaring at him.

“Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to make a sound while we are in this place.”

As if to challenge his warning, she grunted. He whipped the cover up and watched her take in the scene. She at first appeared confused, only seeing the tents. Then she blinked a few times and stared at the nearest dark form. When the dragon lifted its head and yawned, the girl’s eyes went wide, and her entire body begin to tremble with fear.

He leaned inside. “No matter what happens, stay still and stay quiet.” He reached over her to one of the bloody burlap sacks and lifted it out of the wagon then did the same with the other two. She turned her head and noticed her brother’s body was gone. She let out a tiny sob when she realized he was likely in pieces in the bags. Elijah gave her a final stern look before dragging the sacks away.

He walked to the nearest dragon. It lifted its head, and its eyes flashed a quick icy blue before returning to the dark green that they were naturally. One of the tribespeople was controlling it; it was the dragon guarding the valley for the night.

Elijah tore open the first bag and pulled a leg out. The dragon continued to stare at him. He held up the limb, offering to the creature, then tossed it into the air. The dragon’s mouth opened and snapped shut. Elijah watched its massive throat muscles contract as it swallowed the leg whole. He threw an arm and the other leg next.

“Most men would be afraid to approach a dragon,” a familiar voice rang out from behind Elijah. He did not need to turn to see who it was.

“Most men are burdened with fear,” Elijah retorted, tossing the final limb. Algen appeared beside him as Elijah pulled the boy’s disembodied head from the final sack.

“He looks awfully young.”

“He was.” Elijah tossed the head without looking at the boy’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m not in the business of murdering children. I was deceived into the job and committed the kill from behind.” He finally turned to look at Algen so that the truth showed through his eyes.

“What kind of person would purchase the assassination of a child?”

“The kind that doesn’t enjoy being stolen from repeatedly.” The dragon eyed the still-full final sack. Elijah eased the torso out. Algen held his hands, offering to help toss the large chunk, but Elijah shook his head and slung it into the air. The dragon caught it, gave it a quick chew, then swallowed it before closing its eyes and resting its head back down on the ground.

“Children still have time to grow. The boy could have changed his ways, given more time.”

“You won’t find argument with me. Nothing to be done about it now, though.” He collected the stained burlap sacks and turned to leave.

“Isn’t it incredible how they can eat so much and never truly be satisfied?” Algen asked, catching Elijah off guard. The slender man stared up in wonder at the resting giant. For all his genius, Algen could never hide when he was concerned about something.

“Is that why you’re out here this late? A troubled mind trying at solutions?” Algen had no answer for Elijah’s query. “They won’t last on butchered animals and criminals for long. I doubt they’ll switch to grass, either.”

“No, I suppose not.” Algen turned to look at Elijah. He studied the bloody cloths in his hands. “I wish I weren’t so grateful for your services, but I am. When we first brought them to the valley,” he began, nodding toward the dragons, “they ate the battlefield corpses for days. I’d never seen them so voracious. That was the first moment I found myself wondering how we would continue to feed them. Nearly ten years, and they’ve never truly gone hungry.”

“What did they eat before? When it was only them and the tribespeople?” Elijah had never asked Algen about the time between his leaving and his return. He assumed Algen had probably had a very difficult time exploring and adjusting and making peace with a group of humans whom he looked nothing like. He never felt it was his place to inquire.

Algen shrugged. “Wild animals, mostly. They were thinner then. They looked less healthy. I didn’t care. I was simply ecstatic about their existence. But now they’ve grown used to a greater food supply, and it’s led to them repopulating for the first time in over a hundred years.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Algen nodded. “Yes. The Osta’a’fale’et told me. It’s part of the reason they agreed to follow me back here. I promised them new feeding grounds. The dragons are healthier, as are their humans.” Elijah was unclear on the link between the magical people and the dragons, but he knew it was likely Algen would someday divulge the secrets as necessary. Algen trusted Elijah entirely. He’d been the only person that didn’t join in the mockery and had actually taken interest in Algen’s “proof”.

Elijah shrugged and held up the burlap sacks. “I’ll keep doing my part.”

“Who’s that girl?”

Elijah whipped his head around to stare at the wagon. The girl was peeking out, and the rag was gone from her mouth which likely meant her ropes were untied as well. “Stowaway. I haven’t figured out what to do with her yet.”

Algen nodded. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Put her to work maybe. She could clean up those sacks for you.” Elijah considered this but thought it cruel, as it was her brother’s blood. “Best be on your way then before the sun comes up.” Elijah nodded and turned to leave. Algen went back to staring at the dragons.