Free The Broken World by J.D. Oswald Page A

his cloak. Dark as it was, it had gone unnoticed, or at least unremarked in all the places he had stopped since. Now he untied his hair and let it fall over his shoulders. He stripped off the clothes Lady Gremmil had given him, stowing them in his saddlebags along with the skirt, then pulled on the rest of the stolen garments. His cloak already looked like something
a young woman might wear, but he brushed the worst of the road dirt off it before flinging it once more over his shoulders.
    He would have liked a glass to check his appearance in, but as Errol rode into the next town he was confident the people glancing up at him would see not the fugitive boy wanted in two countries, but an apprentice healer heading to the city to buy exotic herbs for her mistress.

4
    When all else fails, and your dragon becomes unruly even with the highest doses of calming potion, there is but one option left. Use camphor woodsmoke to render it insensible, then tie the beast firmly to the floor with its head laid straight. Behind the ears the skull is thinner than the rest and not protected by the hard scales that cover most of its body. With utmost care, it is possible to drill out a small section of bone, revealing the living brain beneath. And within the folds of this organ you will see the red jewels forming. Remove one, maybe two if they are large, being mindful not to injure the surrounding tissue. Replace the removed pan of bone, sealing it with the healing salve and Grendor’s invocation. Be careful that your subject remains sedated for two or three days, for that is how long it takes a dragon’s bones to knit.
    This procedure should only be used as a last resort. Any surgery on a living brain is fraught with danger, and removing a dragon’s jewels while it lives may result in the beast being rendered idiotic, if it survives the ordeal at all.
    From the personal papers of Circus Master Loghtan
    The killing didn’t bother him, but Melyn could never get used to the smell of burning flesh. It hung over the town long after the smoke had cleared, clogging the nostrils and clinging to clothes. Normally it wasn’t a problem for him. The villages, with their tiny populations, succumbed to the Grym, the people burned away without smoke or ash. Larger towns he put to the flame, but always he had been able to ride away from the stench.
    This place was different. There was little point clearing the northlands if no one knew. He needed word of his army to get out, to draw a large part of King Ballah’s army away from the southern border. So at least some of the women and children would be allowed to flee. His warrior priests had met stiffer resistance here than anywhere else too. There had been Llanwennog regular soldiers billeted in the castle, some of King Ballah’s personal guard among them. Melyn was glad he had encountered them in a town rather than open country. They had been mostly in their barracks and, far from the border, had not been primed for battle. He was lucky that none of them had been on gate duty either, since the town was well fortified. The alarm hadn’t been raised until it was far too late. Even so, it had been their hardest test so far, and he had lost valuable warrior priests in the fight.
    Now he sat in the main hall of the castle, trying not to taste the greasy smoke from the pyres. A frightened middle-aged lady stood by the window, staring out across a courtyard slick with blood, still piled with the bodies of the dead. She was pale-skinned for her race, probably a half-breed from one of the earlier vain attempts to bring
the two nations closer together by arranged marriages between the noble houses.
    ‘You need not fear for your life, Lady Gremmil. Nor for the safety of your serving girls. My men have orders not to harm them.’
    ‘But they can do what they want to the men. To my husband. Will you leave any man alive?’
    Melyn reappraised the woman. It wasn’t fear that made her shake, but rage. ‘This is