Free The Blind Dragon by Peter Fane Page B

squires. Most of them seemed to have had their throats cut. The fronts of their blue uniforms were stained deep maroon, bloody spillage spattered neck to groin. A young dragon squire, who Anna didn't recognize, was missing an eye. His face was upside down, his mouth open, a line of blood running up his cheek. A sopping mop and bucket leaned against the corpse pile. The floor around it was dark and wet.
    Anna eased the door shut. From outside the window, she could hear Moondagger breathe, low and quiet. Her mind spun. If House Tevéss had taken the upper barracks, then they surely had taken the upper stables. And that meant they controlled most of their remaining dragons, all of those that hadn't launched with Sara Terreden. If Terreden had launched at all. But hadn't she just heard Voidbane's roar? That hadn't sounded like battle. Perhaps the traitors hadn't reached him yet? Didn't matter. Lord Gideon's men were assembled. And they were poised for attack. No . Not poised for attack. They had attacked. In anticipation of Lord Fel's arrival, the surprise assault had already begun. One week, my eye! That's what Corónd and his men were doing out there. They'd already taken control of House Dradón's barracks and stables. And that meant that House Tevéss had taken control of House Dradón's dragons. And without dragons, they were finished.
    She had to get to Master Khondus. Warn him. Tell him what had happened.
    "Who the blazes —?!" a deep voice grunted behind her.
    Anna whirled.
    Behind her, a maroon-clad soldier stepped up the narrow staircase, his eyes wide with surprise.
    And then the blade she'd taken from the Tevéss soldiers in the birthing stall was in her hand—reversed along her forearm, just as she'd practiced a thousand times—and she was charging. The soldier was only halfway up the steps, so they were at about the same height. He was a Tevéss infantryman. He carried a large basket heaped with day-old bread, cheese, figs, olives, and two jars of pickled eggs. Anna could just see the man's eyes over his pile of food. He was of medium height, but his shoulders were broad. He hesitated for a moment, almost as if he was worried about dropping his load. Or maybe the sight of a charging fourteen-year-old girl in a half-torn tunic seemed to pose no threat.
    Anna was within striking distance in half a moment. She feinted towards the man's eyes, rolled, and planted her dagger in the soldier's guts with all her might—but the blade scraped harmlessly along the breastplate beneath the soldier's uniform, slicing the maroon livery, glancing off the infantryman's gear, the point catching on an armored joint and lodging there. The soldier looked to the kitchen door. Anna tried to pull her weapon loose. Failed. She jumped back and readied herself, casting about for a weapon. Her blade was still sticking weirdly out of the soldier's breastplate. He took a breath to shout the alarm. Through the open window, Moondagger leapt into the room. He landed on the staircase's railing and bit the soldier's face, his lower fangs sinking into the underside of the man's chin, upper fangs crunching through the soft bones of his nose. The man's eyes went wide, and he tried to cry out. But his teeth were clamped shut by Dagger's jaws, and the sound he made was less a scream and more a whine. Moondagger growled softly and clamped down harder. The soldier's jaw and cheeks splintered, but he still stood upright, wobbling with his armload of goodies, as if trying to hand them off to Anna lest they fall. Anna put her foot on the man's thigh, jerked her dagger from where it'd caught, obligingly took the man's basket, and stepped back. Moondagger gave the infantryman's head a single, hard thrash, breaking his neck instantly, and leapt backwards into the rear courtyard, pulling the man after him, white serpent tail whipping over the windowsill.
    Anna set the food basket down and stacked its contents into a neat pile, as if it had been left by someone