The Dragon Liberator: Escapee

-12-

"Are you okay?" Fog stepped toward them.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Fendrel felt his hands shaking out of his control. He put more pressure on the knife at the hunter's neck and held his hand palm-up in front of him. "Give me the powder."

The hunter took a small leather pouch out of a pocket and put it in Fendrel's hand. He eyed the power, sweating. "Please, don't. That'll kill me."

"Don't worry." Fendrel let go of the hunter and untied the strings on the pouch, taking out a small portion. "A pinch won't hurt you." He tossed it on the hunter's face.

The hunter, after Fendrel tossed the dust in his face, slumped to the ground, unconscious. His friend gulped and squirmed under Venom's paws.

Fendrel took another pinch from the leather bag and sprinkled it into his face.

Venom lifted his paws only after the hunter went limp and his breathing deepened.

The birch dragon took a timid step out from behind Fog. He looked between his three rescuers. "You aren't going to kill them?"

"If I killed them, I wouldn't be any better than they are. Besides, those two are just kids, barely even seventeen." Fendrel stuffed the pouch in his bag. He unhitched the horses from their yoke, and they sped off. "And that's why we're not going to tie them up, either."

"What?" The three dragons stared at Fendrel.

Fendrel shrugged. "They're low ranked, inexperienced, scared teenagers. They probably didn't even join the dragon hunters by choice."

"What do you mean they didn't join by choice?" Venom's voice was full of apprehension.

Fendrel sighed. "This goes back to what we talked about inside the base. Some hunters had their families threatened. Others were tricked into thinking the dragon hunters were an elite branch of the royal guard. Some just wanted somewhere they could belong. There's a very small number of hunters who actually buy into Sadon's vision for the future."

"So, some of them don't kill dragons for fun?" Venom looked as if nothing would ever make sense again.

"Yes." Fendrel nodded. "And if we're lucky, these hunters will run away and start new lives as soon as they wake up. They'd be idiots if they decided to stay."

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POV: Cassius

Cassius grinned with glee. He had been right, only basic-trained guards remained to survey Sharpdagger's city. The palace was free to roam without running into Zoricus or his knight companions.

He pushed a set of double doors open into a courtyard bordered by stone brick walls, occasionally notched by torches.

A burlap sack engorged with hay sported a painted-on target on the far side of the courtyard. Weapons were mounted on the wall just behind it.

Spears... I've never thought of practicing with spears. Why did I even want to use a sword in the first place?

Because that's what Zoricus specializes at. You want to beat him at something, anything, he's good at. Cassius clenched his fist, then shook it out. No, I'm not going to let him deter me from what I want to do.

Cassius threw his shoulders back in an effort to seem confident, like his cousin always looked, but ended up feeling silly. He cleared his throat and trudged over to the spears.

Carefully, he took a spear off its mount and stood before the target. He rolled his shoulders and held the spear in both hands, like he'd seen the guards do time and time again. He thrust the spear and pulled it back. He barely punctured the target.