In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 65: Overheard

Dragura blanched. Her Daara, the free-spirited hatchling that she had labored so painfully to deliver, had abandoned her for the Afterworld-- and at the hands of this Star-Witch who threatened to usurp her position?

Dragura's upper lip curled. "I do not believe you."

"Then ask yourself this: why have your other daughters not returned to you?"

Franek, who had never seen anyone speak with such rashness to her Mistress, was looking anxiously back and forth between the two women, trembling so severely that a light breeze might have been enough to carry her away.

"Hush, please!" Franek begged, holding out a warning hand to Sashek. "No one dares upset the Mistress!"

"Why ever not?" Sashek ignored the hand. "It is time she knew the truth: that her own Offspring have abandoned her--"

"Sashek, no!"

"--and that there lives a new replacement for what your 'mistress' thinks is her coveted position as Queen of the Dragons. This child is more graceful, more hard-hearted, and much more beautiful than you are in your fifty years...Dragura."

Before either of the women knew what was coming, a biting slap across the face knocked Sashek aside, causing her to collapse to the floor of her hands and knees, breathing heavily as strands of straw-tinted hair shaded her reddening face.

Dragura stepped daintily over Sashek's body and stooped, reaching with talon-like fingers (the nails had been painted blood-red) to grab a fistful of Sashek's hair and pull the other woman's face upward, so their eyes could meet.

"You are a fool to think this knowledge can be the end of me!" Dragura hissed, and in that moment her porcelain-like beauty had warped into something as ugly and twisted as a rotting spirit from the Great Void. "There is a man who comes to me in dreams. This I know because I see him clearly; he has hair the color of rusty-red blood, and he shall be my mate as I cement my position across the world. You, with your weak heart, are no longer the sacrifice I seek-- only this blazing-haired Star-Witch will do, and she will be mine, if the ignorant trash of Looks Thrice have not put her to death already. Ha!"

Dragura loosened her grip on Sashek's hair and pushed the other woman away with great disdain. She reached into her bodice then and pulled out something sharp she had been concealing within her brassiere; a ruby-colored dagger of at least five inches, strong enough to cut the heart from from even a wild boar with its tough hide.

"Mistress, no! I beg of you!" Franek hurled herself at Dragura's feet with hands clasped together, pleading silently, but the haughty Mistress only kicked her away with the pointed toe of one stiletto.

"Step aside from me, filthy rot! I ought to have your head for bringing that stupid girl, Azee, up here into my very own attic and trying to turn my own Offspring against me!"

"Mistress, I can certainly explain--"

"Silence! I want nothing from you but silence!" This time, when Dragura kicked, the toe of her shoe met Franek's mouth and crushed the tender flesh there, knocking loose some of the teeth until blood and bits of pearly ivory flew, staining the front of her delicate night-wear. In the meantime, Sashek had taken one look at the blade and was struggling against the slippery stone to right herself-- it still had not dried completely from the downpour-- all the while looking madly about for a point of escape.

"And as for you," Dragura finished, grinning crazily and pointing at Sashek with the tip of her blade, "you have come into my sanctuary, but never will you come out. For your insolence, you will die, and my most trusted maidens will carry a message to DayBreak, Hidden Well, and that sleepy pile of rubbish you call Looks Thrice as I feast tonight on your beating heart. My message shall warn the Elders that no longer am I content to sit here in the Fortress and ponder my beauty in the shining glass. I shall reveal myself. I shall raid each village in turn. I shall take many lives with the aid of my newly-trained Draca--" she cast a look of mock gratefulness in Franek's direction-- "--and I shall return with that wretched Star-Witch as my final sacrifice. Her blood will stain the stone of these walls!"

Sashek only snorted. "Flabby old woman," she said derisively, with a little exclamation of laughter: "Save yourself the time so you do not aggravate the arthritis in your creaking joints. I will leave this place...alive. And I shall deliver your message myself. The People will be waiting for you!"

With a howl of fury, Dragura rushed Sashek and thrust with her dagger, but the younger woman managed to writhe away at the last moment. Polished ruby struck the wet stone of the turret walls and Sashek, hardly able to believe what she was doing, used her forearms to brace herself as she hopped onto the turret wall and stared down into the blackness below. She could see the creaking, swaying bridge, where at least one young girl had lost her life (and her head) trying to flee the compound, and the water beneath the bridge where white-capped waves roiled as water-dragons patrolled the deep even now, waiting for the next barrels of fresh tripe.

What choice did she have?

"Die, she-cur!" Dragura shrieked, rushing forward with her blade a final time, but Sashek had made her decision. She inhaled, filling her lungs with as much air as she dared, and pushed herself off into the darkness, soaring, soaring, and soaring as the cold night wind ripped the remains of her tattered apron away from her waist. There was a loud splash as Sashek's body struck the freezing water of the moat, but she did not remember it. There was only the gentle rush and swell of waves, and a high, mournful wail from the evil woman who peered down from the turret-- blade still in hand-- into the murky depths.