The Dragon Liberator: Escapee
-6-

POV: Charles

I wish I had a key.

Charles closed the door to his room. Even though his door left no space for peeking and it locked as soon as he shut it, he was wary of someone barging in. Sadon was the only one with a key to this room, which made Charles’ situation worse. Even he didn’t have a key to his own room. Every night Sadon locked his door as it stood ajar so when Charles retired for the night he couldn’t sneak out after he shut it, and every morning Sadon unlocked the door to start work.

Sadon had never actually barged into Charles’ room at night, but Charles thought the man would if he were paranoid enough.

Charles scoffed. Right, he’s the paranoid one.

While listening carefully and keeping his eyes on the doorknob, Charles felt along the bottom of the cobblestone wall his bed was pressed against and removed a loose stone where he kept a blank journal and a charcoal pen.

He pulled the journal and pen out, wincing when they scraped against the stone floor, and sat on his bed facing the door.

Charles didn’t pull his eyes from the doorknob until he opened the journal to the first page. He held his breath and listened. All was quiet. After a deep breath, he began to write.

“Fendrel was able to rescue another dragon recently, but I think I might have been the reason why this one was captured… Sometimes I’ll forget which information humans usually know about dragons rather than something Fendrel told me, and I’ll assume Sadon already knew something. When Sadon himself decided to go to the Hazy Woods, I of course was forced to join him. We saw the dragon king, and I must have said it out loud without realizing it. I don’t think Sadon believed me at first, so I assumed I hadn’t slipped up. But then, after we had captured him and brought him back to Sharpdagger, the realization that this wasn’t a normal vapor dragon must have hit Sadon. He had a glint to his eye that I would have called child-like if I didn’t know Sadon’s murderous history, and the fact that he was holding a snapper as he spoke…”

There was a shuffling sound outside his room. Charles threw the journal and charcoal pen under his pillow.

No one came to the door. The noise didn’t return. Everything was as dead silent as it had been moments ago.

Charles pulled the journal back out and jotted down one last thing.

“Thankfully, Sadon believed me when I said I didn’t know the dragon king was real, only that I had heard of him in a tall tale from the village I grew up in.”

Despite not having all his thoughts written out, Charles began his routine with every time he wrote in the journal. He undid the bindings that held the pages together, removed the page he wrote on, and stitched the rest of the journal back up again. He stashed the journal and pen in the hollow in the wall and fitted the stone in its place.

Charles moved to the fireplace in his room and used the written page as kindling, destroying any bit of evidence that may put his and Fendrel’s lives in danger.

Even though he never kept his entries, it always felt better to write out his thoughts than keep them bottled up.

<~><~><~>

POV: Cassius

In the morning, the young prince of Sharpdagger strolled down the streets, his arms swinging loosely at his sides. A carefree smile brightened his face, but you would only tell by the crinkle of his eyes since the bottom half of his face was covered by a bland scarf to conceal his identity.

Cassius had forsaken his royal garb in the stable stall behind his prized horse, who he seldom rode. He was free to roam the streets of his city until sundown, when his father would send out guards to call him to supper.

The prince shrugged off that thought.

I’m eighteen now, I need to make my own decisions. If I miss dinner, that’s on me. Of course, he would never say that to his stubborn father’s face.

His thoughts turned sour. Ever since he had turned eighteen, Cassius’s father had been bringing suitors for him to marry.

He should be teaching me about how to help the surplus of orphans, or wrangling dragon hunters into dungeons, not playing matchmaker while our kingdom goes to ruin.

He did love his father, but he rarely got along with him.

The king’s negligence to educate Cassius was only one of his flaws. Another one Cassius couldn’t stand was, in the king’s eyes, the head of the royal guard could do no wrong.

Cassius tilted his head to the side. Well, I can’t blame Father for not seeing Zoricus’s misdeeds since he isn’t patrolling the city every day like I am.

The prince scoffed. Patrolling, what Zoricus should be doing every day. Instead he’s buying dragon slaves off the black market with his buddies.

Just then, one of Zoricus’s closest friends ducked into a building, his armor unequipped and his commoner clothes making him appear like an everyday citizen.

Isn’t he supposed to be on duty today?

One of the few things his father had taught him was which high-ranking guards were stationed on which days.

As Cassius passed the door, his fingers itched for the knob. Despite the sense of anxiety growing within him, he entered the building. It was a small shop for high-quality clothing and jewelry.

“Another rich merchant.” Cassius eyed the shop owner who spoke to the guard. He turned his back to them and fiddled with a rack displaying a variety of necklaces.

“I’ll be right with you, sir.” The shop owner glanced at Cassius.

The prince nodded but kept his eyes on the jewelry.

He was hungry for more gossip revolving around the royal guard. More gossip meant more dirt, and more dirt meant a possibility that Zoricus would be defenestrated.

Cassius slipped a piece of paper out of the coat he wore. It had a list of code words he’d heard wealthy merchants use with their meanings beside them.

“Good morning, sir. You’re up early.” The shop owner placed his hands on the counter that separated him from the guard. “What are you looking for today?”

The guard made a humming noise. “I’m looking for a cut gem.”

Cassius looked at his paper. Next to “cut gem” he had written “tamed/broken gemstone dragon.”

He’s buying a dragon. If he could prove this transaction took place, he wouldn’t have to deal with Zoricus anymore. But I can’t prove it by myself.

“Mhm, what type of jewelry?” The shop owner’s voice drew away as if afraid of attracting Cassius’ attention.

“A ring.” The guard kept the same tone of voice.

Beside “ring” Cassius had written “hatchling.”

Cassius fingered the large clear gemstone of a necklace in front of him, angling it to spy on the men behind him. The image was distorted, but he could see the guard tossing cautious glances over his shoulder.

He saw the shop owner nod. “Right away, sir. Wait right here.” He opened a door at the back of the shop and left.

The prince stepped to a table showcasing vibrantly colored clothing. A small smile played on his lips.

Sadie might like this. Cassius pictured his twin sister in his mind. He picked up the garment, a yellow shawl with blue and green thread stitched in to look like peacock feathers.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. No, Zoricus probably bought her something like this already. Besides, her seamstress could just make something for her if she really wanted it. Maybe I’ll just mention the pattern to her when I return…

He was so enthralled with the shawl he nearly missed the shop owner returning from the back door with a bag the size of a baby goat in his hands.

The shop owner put the bag down on the counter and carefully opened it for the guard to peer inside.

“It won’t squirm or anything, right?” The guard pointed at the bag.

Shaking his head, the shop owner held out his hands palm-up. “I just finished priming this one.”

“I’ll pay five hundred gold pieces for it.” The guard reached for the bag.

Cassius almost dropped the shawl and the piece of paper.

That’s a lot of money.

“No, no, no.” The shop owner brought the bag closer to himself. “Six hundred and fifty, at least. It was very hard carving this gem out of its rock.”

The guard sighed. “Fine.” He took a pouch from his clothes and dropped it on the counter with a loud thunk. The coins chimed inside the pouch as they settled.

Grinning like an imp, the shop owner emptied the contents and scooped them into a wooden box he kept behind the desk. The shop owner gave the guard a smile. “Have a nice day, sir.”

Grumbling under his breath, the guard grabbed his coin pouch, stuffed it in his bag, and took the “ring’s” bag in the other hand. He left the shop.

“Are you wanting to do business as well?” The shop owner looked at Cassius.

Cassius didn’t know why, but he desperately wanted to know what it was like to participate in the buying of a dragon hatchling.

You’ll be no better than Zoricus at that point.

No, because I won’t be buying it to impress friends or some young maiden. I’m buying it to get proof…but then Father will know that I’ve been pretending to be a peasant just to spite Zoricus. He already thinks I’m bitter, this will only solidify his belief.

“No, I just realized I’m running late to… something.” Cassius left the shop and took a deep breath as the door shut behind him. He started off down the street until something caught his attention.

Cassius pretended to gaze at a stand full of fruit.

Two women were talking beside a stall, one with a silver band around her arm, marking her as a guard’s wife, and a slightly younger woman.

“Apparently Zoricus is losing his temper quite frequently.” The first woman wrung a scarf with her clenched fists.

You don’t have to tell me twice.

“My husband tells me Zoricus’ pride feels hurt. After all, it’s been years and one man has managed to escape him time and time again.” The older woman chuckled.

“Ah, yes. The one on the wanted posters.” The younger of the two pointed at a cluster of the posters.

Cassius’s eyes widened. His gaze traveled to a wall where a wanted poster hung.

“The Liberator.” Cassius studied the poster. This one was new, as it had a list of things to look out for. “A specialist in close combat, always alone.”

The prince smiled, a plan formulating in his mind. He usually didn’t return home this soon, but this opportunity was too good to pass up. He had to prepare.

If I can replace the Liberator and tell him what Zoricus and his knights have been doing, maybe he’ll help me take Zoricus out of his position of power, or even get him exiled!

He turned on his heel and sped for the royal stables, remembering he couldn’t just show up in the palace dressed as he was.

<~><~><~>

POV: FENDREL

He woke up before everyone else. Well, almost everyone.

“Hey, there’s something I want to show you.” Fog whispered behind Fendrel.

He jumped, thinking he was alone on the cliff edge.

“Sorry.” Fog smiled. She pointed toward the back of the palace. “This way.”

She cantered behind the palace and spread one of her wings out, gesturing at a staircase made of stone, like it was carved out of the cliff itself. There was no railing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fly right beside you so I can catch you if you fall.” Fog leapt into the sky and hovered.

Fendrel didn’t like the thought of falling to his death right after the strangest rescue mission he’d ever signed up for. Still, he headed down the winding staircase that clung to the cylindrical shape of the cliff.

Just as she’d promised, Fog flew by his side, her feathery wing tips almost brushing the stair steps.

The staircase led into the cliff where the ground leveled out into a spacious room large enough to fit two royal dragons with their wings spread out. Fendrel ventured in with Fog landing right behind him. There was a stone table in the center of the room. Large thick strips of tree bark were laid out on the tabletop.

Fendrel inspected the stripped bark. There was draekonik script carved into it.

“Since Cloud basically takes care of everything here and, well, everywhere else, there isn’t really anything for me to do as far as noble duties go, so I spend most of my time here.” Fog spread her wings out to gesture around the whole room.

There were stone-carved shelves housing more stripped bark all along the walls.

“What is this place?” Fendrel dragged his finger across one of the shelves.

“This is where we store all our important documents. Royal decrees on this shelf, maps up there, old legends passed down from each faction over here, and a whole bunch of customs that nobody reads because nobody ever travels to the other domains.” Fog smiled with glee. “At this point, I basically live here.”

She sidled up beside Fendrel. “And speaking of customs, we’ll be traveling to a few different factions on our journey and I don’t want to seem inconsiderate. I don’t know how many of these customs written here are true or up to date. Can you show me which ones are really important?” Fog reached for a stack of stripped bark.

“I’ll do my best.” Fendrel put his hands on the tabletop.

Fog moved the bark on the table to the floor and replaced it with the bark containing the tribal customs. She pointed at a strip of bark on top of the stack. “It mostly says here that dusk dragons take their work very seriously. Is that true?”

“Venom is the only dusk dragon I’ve ever had a conversation with besides ‘You’re free to go, don’t get caught by hunters again’ so I’m really not sure, but just based on him: yeah. Very solemn.” Fendrel gave Fog a sideways glance.

“And floral dragons. I’m friends with one but there are so many different types, so I don’t know what they’re all like.”

“Well, floral dragons grow up to mimic the plant that they replace most interesting when they first hatch, so some of them look like trees, flowers, fruits, roots, vegetables, even meat-eating plants.” Fendrel jabbed his thumb at the vines that wound their way into the room. “I’ve noticed the prettier ones tend to act snootier while the sturdier ones are a bit prideful. Again, I don’t usually have normal conversations with the dragons I rescue, but they tend to think they don’t need help being rescued.”

“I see.” Fog nodded. “And fire dragons?”

“Notorious party-throwers. They’ll replace an excuse to celebrate anything. Sometimes their festivals can last for weeks on end.” Fendrel couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“That sounds fun, if not a bit tiring.” Fog leaned down to read the customs on fire dragons. “Us vapor dragons celebrate a lot, too, but mostly it’s just dancing. Not parties.”

“Fire dragons are one of the few factions I’ve had a normal conversation with. They’re generally friendly.” Fendrel leaned his elbows on the table.

“It’s too bad we won’t be able to stay for any festivities. Maybe one day I can go attend one once this is all over.” Fog moved on. “Earth dragons. This says they’re rather tough and have jumped to defend other factions in the past.”

“They’re absolutely terrified of humans, so personally I have never actually spoken to one.” Fendrel moved his eyes down the bark.

“Water.” Fog tapped the space his gaze landed on.

“Skeptical of humans, but at least they make an effort to act welcoming.”

“Air.” Fog spread her wings out.

Fendrel chuckled at her impression. “Full of interesting stories, and they generally keep to themselves.”

“Gemstone dragons.”

“They’re about as hard-headed as the clubs on their tails.”

I wonder why there are no pictures of them in this record.

“And finally, spark.”

“I’ve never met one, not even on my raids of the dragon hunter bases. I’ve only ever seen them flying around.”

“Woah, that’s so weird.”

“Aren’t you forgetting ice dragons?” Fendrel dragged his finger along the bark.

“Oh, Flight already surveyed the Frost Peaks and Frost Lake the day Mist disappeared, so we aren’t going to search there.” Fog gave a dismissive wave of her paw.

“Flight?”

“The air noble.” Fog shelved the bark. “We should head back up. The others should be waking up soon.”