Free Slayer by D. L. Snow Page B

she would return. Thus it was with a heavy heart that Cahill rode out with the troops. He glanced up at the cloudy sky. At least the day was cooler. The beasts would be sluggish without the sun to warm their cold blood. But they were still outnumbered. Horribly outnumbered. Cahill took one last look back, hoping to catch sight of Brea, but there was no sign of her, and Cahill tried not to think about the fact that he never had a chance to say goodbye.
    Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was the hardened determination in the soldiers that made the battle more successful that day. Their casualties were still too high for Cahill’s liking, but much less significant than the day before. In addition, they’d managed to kill two dragons. This was due, in part, to the fact that fewer dragons had flown out to meet them that day. That knowledge did not necessarily bode well with Cahill. If the other dragons were not engaging in battle, where were they? How much destruction had they wrought?
    To his great surprise and pleasure, Brea was inside the tent when Cahill returned, shoveling food into her mouth like she hadn’t eaten in a week. The sight brought a faint smile to his face, and then Cahill frowned. “Ewph! It even smells like dragon in here.”
    “Oh!” Brea turned and waved from her place at the table. “Sorry,” she said after swallowing a huge mouthful. “That’s probably me.” She sniffed at her clothes. “Dragon is so hard to get out of wool.” From the sleeve of her tunic she withdrew three glimmering scales and tossed them onto the table.
    Cahill dropped his sword and gingerly nudged the scales apart. Dragon scales were as individual as the beasts themselves. It was not hard to tell these scales came from three separate dragons—one ruby red, the other opalesque and the third glittered like a sapphire. As Cahill well knew, the window for dislodging a scale from a dragon was small indeed; for dragon scales only loosened in death and must be pulled before the monster burst into flames. Cahill looked at Brea with a new and sudden respect. She’d told him she was the best slayer, but he’d never fully believed her. Until now.
    He collapsed onto the stool beside her. “Three?” Cahill said with false nonchalance. “Only three?” He chuckled, “Princess, you’re slipping.”
    Brea smiled in pleasure and then pointed at her injured leg propped on some cushions under the table. “I know. I’m not quite up to standard. But if you could spare someone, I could use some help tomorrow.”
    “I know just the man.”

    Cahill hung from the tree, like Brea had taught him, trying to regulate his breathing, but finding it difficult with a glob of dragon shit sliding down his left cheek. This was soon forgotten, however, when the thundering hooves of an approaching horse alerted him to action. It was Brea riding Elrond hard, heading straight for him with a fire-breather right on her tail.
    “Attack from above,” Brea had said. “Dragons never look up . ”
    Brea flew by, then Cahill let go of the branch, landing squarely straddling the beast’s neck. With one swift movement, he pulled his sword, lifted it high and drove it to the hilt through the black slit in the dragon’s yellow eye.
    “Think of it as a bulls-eye,” Brea had instructed.
    Sure enough, death came instantly. The dragon’s wings stretched taut in its final convulsion and the stinking body glided gently to the ground where Cahill was able to easily slide off. He jogged to join Brea and Elrond a safe distance away before the body went up in flames. “I can’t believe it!” he crowed. “It’s so easy.”
    Brea narrowed her eyes and scoffed, “Easy?”
    “I mean efficient,” Cahill said and grinned. “There’s no hacking at a writhing neck covered in almost impenetrable scales. No fire, no mess.” He raised his hand to Brea to pull her down from the horse and she accepted the help without hesitation. “We make quite a team.”
    She