The Dragon's Horde Read online

  The last one looks out of place amongst the group. I know he’s a part of the Royal Draconis line, but why would he be on a mission with three other dragons? Shouldn’t he be sat somewhere on a smaller version of a large throne with a tiny crown on his head? I’m perplexed. Unless there’s an issue in the Court that I’m not privy to. Not that I would be privy to it. His light brown hair is styled and his black-framed glasses frame his face perfectly, accentuating his gold eyes. He definitely looks the youngest out of their merry little barbershop quartet. He’s also dressed like an adolescent. Ripped jeans and a dark blue t-shirt with Einstein’s equation on the front. In all honesty, I never really found out what E=mc² was anyway.

  The paranoia that circles my brain is constant and never ending. Mika and I were going to our bar just to forget about the intrusion on our peaceful town. Now that I’ve drank enough alcohol to put a horse on its back, it seems as if I have an angel on one shoulder, and the devil on the other. Though, they’re not trying to steer me in the right or wrong direction, they’re conversing about how many ways I can be tortured before I give up the hoard or the ghost.

  Topics like electrocution, burning and nail-pulling go through my head before I decide that maybe it’s time to go home. But with going home adds more problems than it relieves. Mika is still dancing her little ass off and trying to get her to leave with me might be the hardest thing I would have to accomplish tonight. If it wasn’t already a long night, it was starting to become one.

  I have to deal with a tiger who has serious self-control issues, my early-onset of paranoia, and a beer which is still half-full.

  I never thought my life would take the direction that it currently has, but here I am, nursing a drink, albeit not back to health, I’m babysitting an out of control tigress who has the uncanny ability to become overprotective at the click of a claw. The early-onset paranoia has been dormant for many centuries, but only now decides to make a fashionably late appearance. I personally blame the four stragglers behind me, who are also nursing their drinks with unwavering patience.

  My own patience is slowly walking out of the building and leaving me behind with the anger that is slowly accumulating. The overwhelming need to stay patient while trying to remain inconspicuous because of my unbridled paranoia is like trapping a schizophrenic in a box and asking them to stay silent. I’m not inconspicuous at all and I’m sure it’s rolling off me like the waves of the sea during a storm.

  I wonder how long I could sit here at this alcohol-laden bar and talk myself down off of the metaphorical ledge. Stay calm, don’t be paranoid. Don’t let the crazy escape. Who am I kidding? If Mika’s display of dominance wasn’t crazy enough, they’d probably think this town was normal and as yellow-brick-road as all the others.

  Jokes on them, I suppose.

  They, however, are still sitting in that booth at the back of the pub. Two of them are hunched in conversation like they’re trying to be as silent as a mouse who got the cheese, whereas the other two are laid back like it’s a lad’s night out at the pub. It’s the oldest one and Landon who are huddled together like they’re rugby players in a scrum. Before my brain can do that stupidly-annoying thing where it overthinks and overreacts to a situation that is definitely not happening, Matthius in a black polo-shirt strides over to my rescue.

  I think he’s gonna be my new friend. This means that instead of having two, I’ll have three.

  Good things come in threes, right?

  Matthius, the little devil that he is, or at least I assume he is, casts a wary glance to the table behind me. With the subtlest of movements, he jerks his head before taking my empty glass and going to refill it, moving away as quickly as he arrived.

  Which only means that one of the barbershop quartet is approaching the bar. It's silent, which gives away no clues as to which male it is. I can eliminate two already. The Draconis heir and Landon would never come to the bar again; Landon because he was humiliated and the heir because… well, he’s an heir. Normally, that’s an obvious reason to anyone with a fully functioning organ in their head. However, this heir seems quite young and quite unsure of himself. I wonder why that is?

  But the idea of being in the same radius as another of the infamous four is less-preferred than walking over hot coal or stabbing myself in my fingers whilst trying that stupid knife game. Before the unknown bloke arrives at the bar, Matthius slides me a full pint, which, thankfully, occupies my mouth and therefore stops me from spewing copious amounts of bullshit. For someone who talks a lot of shit, I’ve never been so quiet in my entire life.

  Silence is golden right now. It’s something that’s hard to come by with me, but right now it’s in endless supply. A silent, wordless exchange between Matthius and I speaks volumes - a smirk on my lips, his eyebrow raises, and it’s like Matthius has known me my whole life rather than a mere few hours.

  “You might know me better than I know myself Matthius.”

  “How so?”

  “You refill my drinks without me even having to ask.”

  “Any bar-keep could do that.”

  “Don’t downplay yourself, Matthius. You’re more attentive than Eldevair.”

  That blush is back on his cheeks, but he turns his head, allowing me to only catch a glance of it before it's torn from my gaze. The time for mourning is nigh because I feel the familiar vibrations from glasses being placed on the bar top to my left. I’m expecting Finn maybe, possibly Landon, but what I don’t expect is the oldest and the youngest of the bunch to be side-by-side at the bar, looking to make pleasantries with the bartender.

  God fucking damn it.

  In order for me to avoid lurking at the dragon-shifters, I divert my attention to finding Mika. Mika is yet again on the dancefloor. Why do I keep saying dancefloor? We’re clearly in a pub and it’s just a section where the pool table has been scooted over to the side to make room for people to dance. Dance + floor = dancefloor. Logic prevails.

  She hasn’t noticed the two men standing beside me, but I’ve noticed the amount of people that have left the establishment and now I realise that between a few stragglers and Matthius, it’s just Mika, myself and the fearsome four. I said it was time to go about an hour ago, but Matthius kept pouring the pints like it was my only lifeline. Over the idle chit chat, I decide to start making a move before Matthius can stop me in my tracks with another freshly-pulled beverage.

  As I hop off my stool, I make it seem as if I’ve drank more than my fill and I stagger slowly towards Mika in order to catch a small part of the hushed conversation that the two unnamed-dragons are having.

  “We’re looking for the hoard."

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, Leland."

  “Oh, my apologies, Remington, I didn’t realise we weren’t carrying on the discussion we had at the table."

  A sneer forms on Remington’s lips. I think he’s the ‘Alpha’ in the group and, therefore, won’t be disrespected by anyone, including the young heir to the throne. His deep voice carries throughout the pub with his short remarks but this doesn’t deter the young heir for a second.

  “Leland, watch your tone with me."

  “Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.”

  Leland snorts. “It was you who wanted me on this ‘thunder’ of yours, not me."

  “I wanted you because of your skills, not your adolescent attitude."

  “Regardless of my attitude, it seems like you really need me."

  A flash of teeth and a sneer crosses Leland’s face before he turns and walks back to the table. Unfortunately for me, I’m still stumbling across to Mika when him and I cross paths in a flurry of limbs. In his heated rage, he runs into me without a second thought. How could a nerdy dragon have such a bad temper? I guess it’s because of all the hot air they store in their stomachs.

  It’s Matthias who catches my attention, obviously noticing the heated conversation between the pair. It’s not him that only notices it, of course, but it’s the entire gaggle of customers, many of
whom are still firmly seated at their booths.

  “You know, we don’t take kindly to violence here,” Matthius nods in the direction of the booth where the other dragons are sitting, “physical or verbal. Leave it at the door, or don’t come back.” Sliding a glass towards the one called Remington, he mumbles, “For your sake, not mine.”

  Does he mean that in the sense that the locals here would rip these dragons from the town faster than they could think about it, or that the dragons would rip each other limb from limb before they left? Either way, maybe it’s a little early to make assumptions on local or internal slaughter. Out of all of them, it’s that heir, Leland, that confuses me ever so slightly.

  I would’ve never pegged the heir to have a sassy streak or a temper of sorts, but he does, and that’s… fascinating? I’m not too sure about how I feel about the whole development. Not sure how I feel about eavesdropping either. It’s confusing that an heir of the dragon realm would allow his emotions to show so freely. His eyes flash to mine before his cheeks bloom pink. Embarrassment is reflected in his sudden change in posture. He mumbles an apology as he passes, moving quickly without allowing me the time to respond. Well, that was awkward... moving along…

  The lights from the dancefloor distort my vision, only because the strobes are designed to make you feel as if you’re on an existential high. That with the coupling of trying to catch and contain a very fluid and evasive Mika, I’ve managed to involve myself in the drunken olympics. Mika’s only had about three beers over five-odd hours, and everyone thinks I’m the lightweight? Maybe the “pretend-to-be-an-unassuming-human-gig” is getting old. I’m getting old. Fuuuuck.

  Maybe I have had too many beers, but considering I’m standing upright and Mika is a flailing mess, so, this clearly demonstrates the massive difference in our supernatural species.

  Dance floors are not my forte. Sticky, wet dance floors are not my forte either. But I happen to notice a flailing arm heading in my direction and before I can stop the force, I catch it, knocking myself off balance in the process. I've caught the cat, and that’s a mission-accomplished in my book. Operation: Catch cat - successful. I shake her gently to get her out of her rhythmic mindset, looking around the bar as the number of patrons dwindles, leaving just us and them.

  “Mika,” I whisper, “I think we should go now, so it’s not suspicious."

  Her wide eyes glance around the pub, her neck bobbing as she swallows; a sure sign of nervousness. Thankfully, Mika is a great sympathiser and actor when she needs to be.

  “You know, I-I don’t feel so good, Rem. Can you take me home?”

  I nod and a mutter of 'of course' as I pull her from the dance floor. In response to this, she stumbles slightly and I’m unsure if that’s because of me or because she’s had one too many. I’m going with too many. Still a good actor though; ten-out-of-ten would recommend.

  In an instance like this, am I really ranking my best friends acting skills? Yes. Yes, I am.

  Mika rights herself before we get ready to walk past the bar and out the door to freedom and anonymity. Sparing a glance to Matthius, who is wiping down the bar for the umpteenth time tonight, I give a wave of my hand and a half-smile; a signature indication of leaving the premises. Matthius returns in-kind, but gives a leisurely salute. The corner of his lips twitches and I see a playfulness in his eyes. Thank God he’s one of the nicer ones around here. Even if he’s new.

  Door in sight, and Mika in hand, I’ve bid my farewells to the only people I care about while actively avoiding the fearsome four at the bar. Wait. Threesome? Where’s Mr. Tall and intimidating? The Alpha has left the pride for the night? This revelation sets me on edge and not in a good, melt-your-panties kinda way, but rather a shit-your-knickers way. Where the fuck is he?

  Unfortunately, I don’t have time for the trials and tribulations of someone else. The inside of the bar passes me by as I escort Mika to the exit. The old wooden doors creak against my palm as I push them open, the cold night air greeting us as we extract ourselves from a good time. Chill air brushes against my arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. The smell of stale alcohol and smoke surrounds the pub in a blanket of unnatural comfort; a comfort for the drunk and depressed.

  The sounds of shoes scuffing against the debilitating excuse of a concrete car park invades my senses before the pungent smell of smoke and ash. From the stiffening of Mika’s spine, I can only assume she’s inhaled the distinct stale aroma too. As if we could communicate telepathically, we move as one towards the road next to the woods, which leads out of the center of town. Our feet move in unison at a steady pace, hoping to escape the culprit who carries the lingering smell of ash on their shoulders.

  It’s only when my feet touch the pavement on the other side of the road that I realize we’re actively walking towards the smell rather than fleeing it. God must have stepped out on his duties today because he’s failing me in epic proportions. The smell of smoke is wafting from the edge of the woods, a meter or two from where we’ve stopped.

  My fingers clutch onto Mika’s hoodie to pull her closer. I’d protect Mika with my life and Mika mine. Expecting a quivering mess, I’m surprised when there’s a low growl and a hostile yet sinister vibration emitting from Mika’s small, thin frame. Golden orbs glow from the void of darkness that lurks under the hood of her jumper. I see the pearly white shine of elongated canines before I hear the slow rumble that accompanies a warning growl. Hackles raised, Mika’s ready to jump to our defence when a dark figure steps out from the forest less than a hundred feet in front of us.

  It’s then that I connect the ominous dots that have been hanging over my head for the last few minutes. I knew that one of the four from the bar were missing in action at the end. I'm not surprised that it was the dictator of the bunch. I thought maybe he’d gone back to the hotel to sleep, but not to stalk me.

  Maybe my paranoia was genuine. Maybe I had a good reason to be frightened for my life.

  When that dark, ominous figure starts advancing, Mika starts to shift, her clothes split at the seams and right down the middle. Her orange, striped coat comes through her skin and it’s at this very moment that I feel as if I might have to run for my life. Her life. Our lives.

  Staring at a version of my past in the face is more alarming than comforting. This figure is becoming closer than I feel comfortable with. I finally see the small details, the outline of a suit, the sparkle of cufflinks under the night sky the small amount of greying hair at his temples.

  I recognise the leader of the quartet and the manic glint in his eyes has replaced that stoic, hardened expression that he favoured at the bar. His advance is average and his hands are clasped behind his back. Hopefully, they’re only clasped around each other rather than an implement of certain death.

  With a tiger at my side and my confidence in a puddle below me, I figure it’s not the worst way to spend my final moments, but rather an unexpected end to my long, miserable life. I only hope that Mika escapes and looks after Lucius until the end of his days. Maybe even stays with Winter, and lives happily ever after she so readily deserves.

  I only wished that I had that same option. I did once. A long time ago. As death stares at me in the face, I realise that maybe my story wasn’t written that way after all.

  Though I’m sure it’s going to have a grizzly end.

  Remington, the leader of the thunder stares me in the face from less than a few feet away. Although I expect him to lunge at me and slit my throat to bring me to my timely end, I am surprised once again.

  “Your smell is dampened, but I still smell you. I smell your kind,” he steps forward towards me, circling me, like a natural born predator. “Our kind. Although, it is a while since I have smelled the scent of another supernatural I could not place.” He stops directly in front of me, our bodies inches away from each other, and I can feel his breath on my skin. The heat is akin to the dragon-fire he has stored within him.

  “I wonder who you are. If I don’t recogn
ise your scent, then you must be a long way from home.” He blows his breath gently across my cheeks and I feel the tingle all the way down to my toes. A frown pulls down at his lips. His eyebrows knit together in deep in confusion; an expression I recognise well.

  “I wonder why you’re here; all alone, in this town, with one friend beside you. Why has no one realised that you’re a supernatural. You definitely don’t smell like the human you’re trying to disguise yourself as."

  I swallow in fear at that very statement. I’m the only one of my kind. The scent is difficult to place because I have been living in solitary. I’ve been hiding for so long I never expected that someone would find me and suddenly start questioning my very being.

  “I’m going to find out why.”

  As I lift my gaze to meet his, a heavy feeling settles on my shoulders once more.

  Unfortunately, there’s nowhere to run this time.

  Nowhere to hide.

  I can’t leave my life behind again, so this time I must stay.

  Stay, and fight for my own life, and protect my friends at the cost of my very being.

  This is my home and I’m going nowhere.

  I remember that day well, four-hundred and fifty years ago.

  The day I was removed from my homeland, from my life; from my friends, family, and those who knew me simply by name.

  Those scenes I came to recognise as home had slipped from my mind throughout the years, but I’ve tried and failed to recreate them in every place I’ve resided since.