Perfect Game

 by Evan Drake

The sun sat high in the sky, beaming brightly on the mercenary company as they rode through the valley. There was no cloud cover and the wind nonexistent. Breathing was an arduous task thanks to the hot, sticky air. The thick branches overhead shielded them from the blinding light, but provided no cover from the heat. No one spoke, saving their strength for the upcoming battle, leaving on the clop of horseshoes on the heated earth to break the silence. The horses moved sluggishly, their heads bowed as the heat beat them into submission.

The weather was the first thing Ron cursed as his horse trudged along. The horse did most of the work and he was still exhausted. Sweat dripped from his chin and ran down his sides, soaking the undergarments beneath his leather armor. His gear felt as if it weighed twice as much, and his long brown hair clung to the sides of his face. And it wasn't even summer! He started to wonder if they hadn't wandered into the “Valley of Death." He was sure he had heard of such a place in a children's story.

            “Keep up you damn lizard!" Captain Stright yelled. His sudden voice made everyone jump. A few riders had to comfort their steeds.

She had surrendered to us almost without a fight, Ron thought as Captain Stright yanked Lyndria's leash, lurching the dragon forward. The leash was unnecessary as were the manacles on her legs and the iron muzzle on her snout. That she even allowed them to chain her like that was proof she wouldn't try anything. Even though she was the size of a small pony, she could easily kill the lot of them given the chance. Captain Stright claimed the extra measures were because of the dragon attacks on the roads. Since Lyndria was the only one who knew where the dragons camped, he didn't want to take the risk of her being one of them. It was a lie and everyone knew it. If Lyndria was one of them, she would die before leading a group of humans to her brethren.

It was no secret Captain Stright hated dragons. It was all the captain ever talked about. Most of the men in the captain's command shared his views. Not that Ron could blame them; since the start of the Great Rebellion, humans had plenty of reasons to hate dragons. Besides, enslaving the human race for thousands of years, the dragons had a habit of treating others as if they were beneath them. But it was hard to argue with them after witnessing their power time and time again. They could fly, breathe fire hotter than any furnace, and their scales provided a natural armor that few weapons could penetrate. Even the smaller dragons could overpower a grown man and they didn't tire easily. Even with guns, no human could defeat a dragon alone in a straight fight.

            Lyndria uttered a terse growl but kept her head bowed to show her submission. It was a shame to see such a beautiful creature reduced to the state of a beaten dog. Her luminous sea-green scales were plastered with mud, her long tail dragged along the ground, and her legs shook with every step due to the heavy luggage she was forced to carry. Only her bright, yellow eyes showed any resistance like a weak flame struggling against a storm.

            The other men didn't speak, but they smiled at the captain's display of dominance over one of their scaled former overlords.

Ron sighed softly so no one would overhear. The humans weren't innocent. How many human wars had been fought over the years? How many times had they asked their dragon caretaker to destroy their enemies? How many sacrifices were made over the centuries to please them? Now, anyone thought to be a dragon sympathizer was put to death. Play along or die; it was the only reason he joined this company.

            Sometimes Ron wondered if he signed up with the wrong people. Infighting was just as dangerous as the dragons, so a determined group rallying behind a common goal seemed the right choice. People worshipped dragons as gods for as long as anyone remembered. Now it had been revealed the “gods" were not as immortal as believed, the world was tearing itself apart because no one knew what to do anymore. Everyone wanted to be in charge, to forge the way to a new future and usher in the next age. If the rumors were true, the dragon clans weren't doing much better.

            He wiped his brow on his arm and took another sip of water from the pouch hanging from his belt. He hoped there was a river nearby; they would need to refill soon, and the horses were thirsty. That they were forced to travel such a remote path was the second thing he cursed. They were days from the nearest town, assuming it was still standing, and their supplies were more than half gone. They would have to start sending out a hunting party to gather food soon. Why couldn't the dragons attack trade caravans near a river? He wondered though he knew the answer. A good trade route was scare; the most useful ones were being fought over and were next to useless.

He turned to the captain at the front of the group. The man's bald head shone in the sunlight. He wore a grin on his face as if he enjoyed the heat. The captain loved impossible odds. He took on the jobs no other mercenary company would touch. When they learned there were dragons attacking the trade routes, the captain was too eager to take the job. Ron had seen the way other humans looked at the captain. Even some of the men felt he often took things too far. Results were all that mattered to the captain. More than a few good men had died so the captain could achieve his goals. They were lucky to have caught Lyndria lounging by side of the road or else the captain would've tried to slaughter every dragon he found, getting at least half the company killed in the process. He was merciless when it came to dragons. Even unhatched eggs weren't safe from his cruelty.

Brutal or not, the man had a mind for strategy, and he believed in his cause. At least with this group, Ron didn't have to fear getting stabbed in his sleep. If they learned how he felt about dragons, they would shoot him while he was awake.

Lyndria led the group off the main path. The ground quickly became rougher, and they were forced to abandon the horses. Ron could swear he heard the horses sigh in relief. Captain Stright ordered five men to remain behind with their steeds and led the rest deeper into the forest.

Ron wished he was chosen to stay behind with the horses. The heat quickly sapped him of what little strength remained. The ground was much softer than he thought, but it didn't make walking any easier. The sweat pooled in his boots, and he grimaced with every step he took.

The worst part of this expedition wasn't the heat or the discomfort. It was the silence. It sent an unwelcome chill through his sweat-soaked body. He feared every snapping stick and rustling branch was the dragons they were tracking, finally coming to end their pursuers. It was odd there wasn't a bird in the trees or any signs of wild animals, predator or prey. Ron assumed it had something to do with Lyndria. Even bound, no wild animal dared challenge a dragon.

I think they have the right idea, he thought bitterly.

“I think we're lost," one of the men whispered. “You really expect a dragon to know directions?"

“Yeah, no one in their right mind would dare come to this place," his companion replied. “Just look at this area—we can't even get our horses through. Dragons need room to fly. There's no room here."

Ron remained silent. The rough roads was what made this pure genius. No one would think to look here. The rough ground meant anyone traveling this way had to follow the path, making them easy to track. The thick trees made it easy to stage an ambush, since leaving the road on horseback was impossible. What worried him was how sophisticated this was. It had to be more than one dragon. A single dragon would have a hard time attacking an armed caravan in this closed space. And how did they go undetected this far within human-controlled lands? Even being able to fly, someone had to see a group of dragons passing overhead. Then there was the question of how the dragons were tracking the shipments. Surely they didn't sit by the side of the road and wait for a caravan to pass through.

            They only walked for a few minutes—though those few minutes were hell—before Captain Stright held up his hand ordering the group to stop walking. Ron looked around until his eyes settled on the large cave opening in the mountainside. It was larger than the house he grew up in, but it was almost indiscernible amongst the vines and branches shielding it from view.

            Ron swallowed thickly, his worst fear confirmed. There was no way the dragons found this by accident. A hidden cave this close to a trade route? This wasn't a series of spontaneous attacks, this was well planned weeks, possibly even months, in advance. They researched trade routes to find the perfect ambush point. Hundreds of leagues from the nearest settlement, there would be no hope of salvation and no one to watch the roads. By time news got around, the attackers would be long gone. Any survivors would likely die before coming across anyone else. He had never heard of a dragon doing anything even close to something this sophisticated. Dragons were intelligent but also arrogant. They wouldn't go through this much trouble to stay undetected.

            Just what were they dealing with?

            Captain Stright turned to Lyndria. “Are you sure this is the place?" When she nodded, he passed her leash to one of the new recruits. Ron couldn't remember the man's name, but he knew he didn't like him.

            “You three stay out here," Captain Stright ordered. “We're going to go in and clean up this mess. If anything with scales comes out, you kill it. And if that one tries anything"—he pointed his rifle at Lyndria—“shoot it."

            The men nodded and Captain Stright led the rest of the company toward the mouth of the cave. Ron was disappointed not to be left behind to guard the dragon. He had been in plenty of battles, but he had never killed a dragon before. And this was unlike any other dragon they had dealt with. It knew someone would come eventually; there would be a plan in place.

            And they were going to take on an unknown number of them. With less than twenty armed men. Anyone else would've called the mission folly and waited for help to arrive. Ron tightened his grip on his sweat-slicked rifle. If they didn't play things right, they would walk into a massacre. He had heard a rumor once that a single dragon once brought down an entire army. He wondered if that if were true. Even after worshipping dragons for millennia, humans knew next to nothing about them.

            They moved silently to the cave entrance. Ron pushed all of his doubts and fears away. Captain Stright peered inside, then waved for everyone to follow him in.

            The smell of dragon hit Ron the moment he crossed the threshold. It was an old scent, but a dragon definitely made its home here. The company broke off into groups of two and spread out throughout the cave, the standard formation when combating dragons. Use superior numbers to disorient and overwhelm them. It was the only advantage they had over them.

            Ron crept forward, his eyes scanning every shadow and rock large enough for a dragon to hide behind. Inside the cave was much cooler, but his nervousness made him sweat more than ever. The deeper he walked, the more he worried. The tension was killing him. What did the dragons have planned, an ambush? A trap? Did a scout see them coming and warned the others? Dragons rarely left their homes unguarded, but there was no sign of anyone non-human.

            They reached the end of the cave, but there was no sign of anyone. A pile of stolen blankets and leaves on the ground from a makeshift bed sat gathered in the corner, but nothing more. Instead of relief, Ron's apprehension worsened, his grip tightening so much on his rifle it shook in his hands. All the men looked at each other confused.

            “There's no one here!" Captain Stright growled. “I swear if that useless beast dragged us out here for nothing—"

            A loud boom resounded within the cavern, shaking the walls. A wave of heat and dust washed over everyone. Ron coughed trying to fill his lungs with burning, dust-riddled air. The heat was even more intense than the heat outside. Ron felt as if he were being cooked alive.

            “Everyone out!" Captain Stright managed between coughs.

            The ceiling began to crumble from the explosion. The falling rocks combined with the smoke, made seeing anything near impossible. Ron weaved through the shadows in his path, unsure of what became of the others. He ignored the choked screams filling the cavern. His muscles ached and his lungs and eyes burned from the noxious air. But he didn't stop running until he felt the sun's light on his face again.

            He collapsed to his knees, coughing as he cleared his lungs and took in the clean air. After catching his breath, he looked around for the others. It seemed he was the only one who made it out.

            He punched the ground in frustration. Those dragons! How did they know we were coming? There was no wind today, so they couldn't have caught our scents, and the trees provided more than enough cover from watching eyes.

            “Damn, looks like one of you made it out," a low growling voice said.

            Ron slowly turned. Lyndria calmly walked toward him, the iron manacles and muzzle gone. She bore a sinister grin on her face, her claws dripping with blood. He saw her lack of bindings and the blood, and it all hit him like a sudden punch to the gut.

            “It was you," he whispered. “You're the one who's been attacking the trade routes."

            Lyndria's grin widened. “You catch on fast. Yes, I staged this whole thing so I could kill your captain. You'd be surprised how many people wanted that shitbag dead." She sat on her haunches and scratched under her chin. “Shame about the other dumbasses who followed him, but that's what happens when you attack a dragon's nest. You have no idea how many humans died from the retaliation. No one's going to cry for them."

            Ron stared, slack-jawed. It was still hard to believe a dragon set all this up. The attacks on the caravans to draw the captain out. Being captured on purpose to lead them out to this remote location. Choosing a place where they had to leave their horses, cutting off hope of escape. Even letting them gather in a single location to take them all out in one fell swoop. All for the sake of killing one man.

And no one would ever know. The client would assume they were killed and likely send someone else. The attacks would stop, and everyone would assume the dragons had moved on.

            “Now what do I do with you?" Lyndria asked teasingly, sweeping her tail across the ground like a dog eager to play. “I could kill you. Don't want you telling anyone what happened here. I'm not supposed to be here after all. Then again, I doubt anyone would believe you." She chewed on the tip of her tail as if agonizing over the decision.

            Ron didn't know what to do. He still had his rifle, but with the distance between them, she would roast him before he could even raise it. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. The captain wasn't the nicest ma. Ron wasn't even a true believer; he only joined them for protection. Why should he die trying to avenge someone he didn't care about?

            Lyndria stood and shrugged. “You know what? You can live. You're no threat to me, and killing you isn't part of the job. It's more than what your worthless ass of a captain would've done." She turned and walked away.

            “W-Wait!" When Lyndria turned around. Ron threw himself at her feet. “Allow me to serve you!"

            “Do you know what you're asking? After all, you humans are fighting because of shit like this."

            “I don't care about them! We have no chance of beating the dragons, even I know that! They talk big as if your kind can be beaten, but we lose at least ten men for every dragon we kill."

            “More like thirty, but semantics, right?"

            “No more than ten years past, we worshipped your kind as gods. It wasn't because we were told to, it was because we saw how powerful your kind is and knew it was better to live under your feet than die by your claws."

 “So you'd rather live as my pet?" She sounded surprised, curious.

            “Yes. I'll do whatever you ask just so long as you spare me."

            “Know this, human. Dragons do not suffer traitors. Break your oath to me, and death will be a mercy I will not grant you. Will you still swear your loyalty? I won't kill you if you say no." She added when Ron nodded again, “Interesting. I thought you would fight me to the end. You humans really have no loyalty to your kind. Look at me human, and tell me your name."

            Ron slowly looked up. He saw a proud, fierce creature standing before him. He quickly looked back at the ground. Even covered in mud, he didn't feel fit to look upon her. “M-My name is Ron."

            “Then, Ron, do you swear my voice shall be the only one you obey? To forfeit your life before disobeying me?"

            Ron nodded vigorously.

            “I need to hear you say it."

            Ron quickly placed his rifle at Lyndria's feet. “My life is yours. I shall go wherever you command. I will give my life to defend yours. This I swear until the day I die."

            Lyndria stared at him, her yellow eyes scanning him as checking for signs of lying. He meant every word. All he wanted was to survive the storm ravaging this world.

“Follow," Lyndria said. “The others are waiting for us."

            Ron wondered how many others there were and why Lyndria was recruiting humans. He couldn't help but feel this, too, was planned.

            But he made his choice. The world was tearing itself apart. No matter what the cost, he was going to survive this storm.