Sandra hated traveling in the rain. Always wet, cold, and miserable. Then there was water filling her boots and the sloshing sounds it made when she walked. No matter how short she cut her hair, it always stuck to her face and got in her eyes.

And if there was one thing she hated more than walking in the rain it was flying. Then, the cold wind sliced through her soaked clothing like a knife, and the droplets flying into her eyes made it impossible to see.

Staying indoors was preferred when it rained, but today she didn’t have much of an option. Work had been hard to come by lately and this client offered good money. Of course, larger payouts meant more dangerous work, but as a mercenary death was simply an occupational hazard. Her perversions about traveling in the rain could wait.

So instead, she kept her head down and grumbled to herself as Menrir carried them through the air, her hands frozen on the harness. It was a miracle the dragon could even see in this weather, but she wasn’t about to complain.

Menrir was a rare species known as Tonitrocirrus or Stormbornes by the general public. This particular species had an electric organ stored in their tails which caused them discomfort in moist environments. It was fair to say the dragoness hated the rain more than Sandra did.

Finally, the wind and rain stopped whipping her arms, hands, and face. She looked up to the warm inviting glow of lights through the many windows of the large mansion in front of them. Without a word, she hopped to the ground and headed to the front door then gave it three hard knocks with her fist.

A few seconds later, the door opened and a middle-aged man appeared. He had sharp features. Judging from his appearance, she assumed he was the servant of the client. “Ah, so glad you could make it. Thank you for coming in this dreadful weather.”

“Yeah, yeah. This just better be good,” Sandra grumbled as she pushed her way inside.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Sandra stopped and looked back at the man. “My name is Sandra. Not ‘miss’.”

“Apologies, Sandra. But I have to ask your companion to wait outside.”

Sandra turned to the storm-grey dragoness filling up the large doorway. She had to applaud the man’s bravery. Menrir stood as tall as a grown stallion yet he still had the gall to say that especially to a Stormborne who hated the rain.

Normally, she would have some fun with the man, but she was wet, cold, and miserable. “If you think you can convince her to go back out in that mess, go ahead.”

The man looked as if he would rather eat his foot than to deliver the news to a pissed-off dragon and said nothing.

Menrir shook her body, sending water flying everywhere. Sandra fought the urge to smile.

“Since that’s not a problem, let’s get to business,” Menrir said.

The man wiped his face and said shakily, “Y-Yes. Follow me, please.”

They followed the man into a much larger room with a wide table in the middle surrounded by wooden chairs. A map sat in the middle of the table, dotted with figurines. Sandra almost sighed in relief as the warmth of the fireplace washed over her. The feeling of contentment didn’t last she also noticed three other mercenaries in the room. Two of them looked just as soaked and miserable as she did, making her wonder just how long the others had been waiting. She didn’t recognize the other mercenaries which could be either very good or bad. On one hand, there were no official enemies in the room, but on the other, she didn’t know anything about these men. None of them looked like amateurs either. That also didn’t bode well for the nature of this job.

The three occupants immediately took notice of them and stared.

“They act like they never seen a dragon before,” Menrir whispered.

“Or they never saw your kind before,” Sandra whispered back. “Even where it's dry, there aren’t many Stormbornes.”

“Now that the last of you have arrived, I would like to thank you all on behalf of Lady Fenley for coming,” the servant said. “In just a few moments, Lady Fenley will join us and explain the situation. Please make yourselves comfortable until then, however, you are not permitted to leave this room.” He shot a furtive glance Menrir’s way as if expecting her to challenge him and Sandra fought the urge to laugh again.

The servant left the room. Sandra and Menrir sat in the far corner of the room furthest from the other mercenaries. Sandra would’ve preferred standing closer to the fire, but the men hadn’t stopped staring at them.

It had to be because of the dragon, right? She wondered. If they wanted to kill them, they would’ve been more subtle about it or have attacked by now. What if they were looking down on her for being the only woman there? It wouldn’t be the first time. She knew exactly how to handle it if that were the case.

Finally one of the mercs approached them. He was easily the largest of the three, and his face was heavily scarred. That combined with his square jaw made his head appear as if it had been carved out of a woodblock. It didn’t help his olive-colored eyes were lifeless and unmoving as he stared at them. It was like staring at a moving puppet. Despite his large size, he glided across the room without a sound, making the hairs on the back of Sandra’s neck stand on end.

The merc stopped well out of striking range and pointed to Menrir. “You rode her here in this weather? That’s brave.”

Sandra sighed inwardly, grateful that her suspicions had been confirmed. “Not really. That harness on her back shields from her discharges, and she has good control over it. Nothing gets shocked unless she wants it to.”

“So are you gonna tell us your name or are you just here to admire us?” Menrir asked.

The man slowly turned to her, his eyes still as expressionless as before. “Derand.”

“Menrir. That’s Sandra.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here, Derand,” Sandra said.

Derand folded his arms across his chest. “Good. Famous mercenaries don’t last long, dragonrider.”

Sandra frowned at the title. “Just so you know, my friend doesn’t like it when people call me that.”

Derand said nothing.

“If we’re on the subject of introductions,” the other merc said. Compared to Derand, this man was gangly. His long dark hair clung to his pale face made eerier by the glow of the fireplace. If he cleaned up a little more, he could easily pass for someone of status which Sandra supposed made him all the more dangerous. “The name’s Chris.”

“Just call me Luther,” the final man called from his seat on the other side of the room. He was the most unassuming of everyone there. Other than his short, red hair and similarly colored beard, nothing about him stood out. He was as large and muscular as Derand, but not nearly as thin as Chris. His clothing was weathered, but still passable for a casual setting. If they had been anywhere else, Sandra wouldn’t believe this man took dangerous jobs for coin.

“So you’re the famous dragonrider, huh?” Chris asked. “Honestly, I expected someone a little more…manly.” He looked over Menrir. “But you’ve tamed her enough to let you ride her. Very impressive.”

Menrir snarled and lunged at the man. She stopped long before crossing the distance between them, but Chris gave a startled cry and stumbled backward. “No one tamed me. She rides me because I allow it.”

Chris slowly stood and straightened his wet, wrinkled clothes. He said nothing as he shot the dragoness a dirty look before going back across the room.

Luther relaxed, setting down a large rifle beside him. Derand remained in place with the same stone-faced expression. Sandra wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or worried. She decided both would be an appropriate middle ground.

Derand also returned to his spot by the fireplace and silence fell over the room. Sandra chose to go over her supplies to see how badly wet everything was. Her guns worked fine in the rain, but she preferred to be thorough. Other than a wet rifle and waterlogged boots, everything was still in working condition.

After some time passed, the servant returned with a woman by his side. This had to be the Lady Fenley he mentioned before leaving. The woman’s fancy style of dress and the way she carried herself screamed noble.

The woman turned to Menrir and her eyes widened. “Oh, there is a dragon among us.”

“You got a problem with that?” Menrir asked.

“No, it’s simply a matter of the sensitive nature of the job. I believed a dragon would be uncomfortable with the task.”

“I’ll decide that for myself.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Lady Fenley turned back to the rest of the room. “Thank you all for coming. I am Lady Joceylene Fenley and I am the one who called here tonight. I apologize for the terrible traveling conditions, but I cannot afford to wait until the weather clears.”

“I’ve traveled through worse,” Chris said. The others said nothing.

“Regardless, I would like to get straight to the point and avoid wasting everyone’s time.” She approached the table and pointed to Amethya, their current location. “I run an important shop that deals with antiquities. My goods are shipped all over Geolga.” She pointed to a large patch of green indicating a forest. “Recently, a wild dragon clan has decided to attack my shipments and I’m losing business.”

Sandra raised a brow. Wild dragon clans in human-controlled lands were rare and never grew to very large sizes. Most clans preferred to remain low-key. Attacking human shipments would be the worst way to draw attention.

“How is this our problem?” Derand asked.

“Yes, I’m aware that I could simply inform the city watch or the Scale Guild and have something done about them, but I would prefer this be handled discretely. As you can expect, I have many business rivals and any one of them would not hesitate to capitalize on my hardship.”

“So this woman wants us to risk our necks so she can save face?” Menrir whispered. “Typical humans.”

The man by Lady Fenley’s side turned to them. “I assure you, this goes much farther than simply ‘saving face.’ If one of Lady Fenley’s rivals is behind this attack, they’ll draw out an official investigation until the damage is irreparable.”

“Thank you, Samson. Very well put,” Lady Fenley said. “It is as he says, I can’t take the risk of having my hands tied. Which is why I’m calling upon you four.”

“Five,” Sandra corrected. “Me and Menrir are a team, and we expect to be paid separately.”

Luther and Chris smiled, Derand remained expressionless, and Samson pressed his lips into a thin line.

Lady Fenley did not change facial expressions. “Apologies. And, yes, the two of you will be compensated individually as requested.”

That wiped the smile off their faces.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you mean she gets paid double?!” Chris asked.

“There are two of them. Whether or they choose to pool their earnings is up to them.”

“And we expect the same share as the others,” Menrir added. “You try to stiff us, and I’ll tear your fancy house down.”

Samson turned red in the face and opened his mouth to say something when Lady Fenley calmly raised her hand. The man immediately fell silent but continued his smoldering stare.

Derand spoke, his tone as flat and uncaring as his gaze. “How big is this clan?”

Lady Fenrir was the one to answer. “So far, we’ve seen 5 dragons.”

“Hold on,” Menrir said. “Is these five dragons in the clan or five dragons attacking the shipments?”

“Is there a difference?”

“A big difference,” Menrir replied, nettled. “There have to be at least seven dragons to be considered a clan. And dragon clans only send their hunters to deal with distant threats. The larger the clan, the larger the hunting party. If five dragons are being sent, that means there’s at least 20 in the clan.”

A murmur went through the room. Everyone except Derand seemed troubled by the news. Sandra began to wonder if the man was just a life-like statue and she imagined him speaking before.

Chris spoke first. “Whoa, whoa, four people and a domesticate against 20 dragons? I signed up to get paid, not get myself killed!”

Menrir jumped to her feet, her snarl silencing everyone. A low buzzing emanated from her body. “What did you call me?!”

“If you could refrain from causing a mess in my home that would be appreciated,” Lady Fenley said. “I must already pay to have the rugs cleaned and they charge extra to remove blood stains.”

Menrir snorted and the buzzing ceased. “He’s not worth it anyway.”

Lady Fenley pointed to a dragon figurine on the map. “To answer your question, we learned this is where the dragons are hiding, but only five have been spotted thus far.”

“Even if we’re talking about a small clan, five against seven doesn’t seem like good odds,” Luther said. “Against humans, sure, but with dragons, you want to outnumber them.”

“A small team is better suited for this,” Derand said. “Too many and they’ll see us coming.”

Sandra stared at the map. The location where the attacks were happening were miles away from any known settlements. But there were also no trade routes which led that way. She knew because she liked doing jobs for merchants. They paid extra for getting their goods delivered undamaged and not many people were bold enough to attack a traveling caravan with a dragon escort.

She chose not to dwell on it. Mercenary life already had a short life-expectancy, asking too many questions only reduced it further.

“So we’re killing all of them or chasing them off?” Luther asked.

“We’ve progressed beyond chasing them off,” Lady Fenley said coldly. “My workers had lives, families. And those dragons slaughtered them like cattle.”

“So this is about revenge then,” Derand said.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as her bony hands gripped the table. “If you wish to put it bluntly, yes. It is about revenge. As for payment, you shall all be compensated equally. Should you die, your share shall go to the others.”

Sandra swore under her breath.

“Also, as I’m sure you expect, I need this task completed with a certain degree of discretion. If you run into a problem with the authorities, I won’t be able to help you. Are there any final questions?”

Sandra had a lot of questions, particularly about what the noblewoman’s game was with that “fewer survivors means greater payout” business. In the end, she settled on the most pressing question, “There a time limit?”

“I have another shipment due to depart at the end of the week. I would like this cleaned up before then.”

The end of the week was five days away. The place shown on the map would take about two days to get there, so if they wanted to get there on time, they had to leave now. Flying on Menrir, they could get there faster, but she had no way of carrying everyone and no way were they going to take on an entire clan alone.

As loathe as Sandra was to go back out into the rain, being in that noble’s house made her feel dirty. She motioned for Menrir to follow her and walked toward the door.

The rain had stopped, but the wind had not. Pulling her coat closed, she grumbled to herself and climbed onto Menrir’s back.

Before they could take off, Derand stepped in front of them. “We leave from the east gate at sunrise.”

****

When Sandra awoke the following morning, she did not feel like going anywhere. Her dreams were plagued with thoughts of how Lady Fenley likely planned to stab them in the back. It didn’t help that comment about everyone getting larger shares depending on how many of them survived the trip. It all but guaranteed one of the others would try something. It was likely the noblewoman’s way of tying up loose ends. But walking away now wasn’t an option. Her reputation mattered more to her than her life. No client would hire a coward.

The whole job gave her a bad vibe. The dragons wouldn’t attack the humans and risk retaliation unless something happened they couldn’t ignore. Likely one of her rivals had done something to the dragons and convinced them it was Lady Fenley’s doing. Whoever started it, they were being called on to finish it. She had long learned that mercenaries were often the knives in the nobles’ game of stabbing each other.

The rain had stopped, but it brought her little comfort as the roads would be a muddy mess. Derand, Luther, and Chris were waiting at the edge of the city by the time they arrived which surprised Sandra as she thought they were early.

The trek to the dragons’ den was going to take at least three days on foot, and Sandra wasn’t looking forward to any of it. Sleeping on the hard ground was bad enough, but sleeping in the mud was worse. To top it off, Menrir was irritable during rainy days—something about the electric sac in Stormbournes tails swelling in moisture—which meant Sandra spent most of her time playing mediator between the dragoness and her potential victims.

This trip was no exception. She would have preferred traveling alone, but that would also mean her “teammates” would be free to scheme as they saw fit. No one was likely to do something before the job was finished and take on a dragon clan with fewer numbers, but better to err on the side of caution.

Derand and Luther kept to themselves, but Chris, for some reason, wanted to “get to know everyone” and pestered them with questions about things that were none of his business like where they were from and why they chose to be a mercenary. He was especially interested in how Menrir and Sandra met.

“Come on, you don’t see many dragon/human merc pairings,” he said. “Maybe I want my own scaly sidekick.”

“How about I split you in half so it feels like there’s two of you?” Menrir offered.

That got him to finally shut up and Sandra could suffer in peace. The muddy ground was a bit hard to walk on, but it was the tension that got to her the most.

Once they had gotten a fire going, he spoke again. “We should discuss strategy,” Chris said. “Assuming we aren’t being set up—”

“Which we are,” Sandra mumbled.

“—we can assume that we’re dealing with at least a half-dozen dragons. We’ll need to pull something out of our ass to make this happen.” He pointed to Menrir. “I think we should have the Matriarch here—”

“I’m not a Matriarch.”

Everyone except Sandra raised a brow.

“But aren’t you a female?” Luther asked.

“Not all females are Matriarchs,” Menrir replied, anger creeping into her voice. “I never developed the call.”

“What’s the call?”

“It’s how a Matriarch commands other dragons to do her bidding,” Derand explained.

Chris sighed and rubbed his temple. “If you can’t use the call, then what good are you?”

Sandra quickly spoke up before Menrir could react. “She’s a lot more useful than you’ll be and probably the only one of us who can get close to the clan without being burned alive.”

“So the hunter’s diversion then?” Menrir asked.

“That’s pretty good actually. If we can draw away the hunting party, we won’t have to face the whole clan at once.”

“Hold on, what’s the hunter’s diversion?” Luther asked.

“Menrir pretends to be hunted by humans, and when the dragons show up to help, we ambush them.”

“It’s simple, but it should work,” Derand said.

“Oh, good. The dragon’s the bait and we wait to ambush the others when they show,” Chris said. “Glad it’s not my neck we’re risking.”

That ended their discussions for the day. Everyone went back to keeping to themselves. As likely as an attack was, Menrir and Sandra slept in shifts.

The next morning, Sandra and Menrir brought up the rear. This was to talk amongst themselves without eavesdroppers and to avoid Chris who seemed especially chatty. He spent the whole morning rambling to himself or everyone—Sandra couldn’t tell which. Derand and Luther seemed to be ignoring him as well.

“So what’s the plan?” Menrir asked. “You know they plan to stab us in the back first chance they get.”

“I know, but I would rather not turn on them if I can help it. I’d rather not make an enemy if I can avoid it.” She made sure the others weren’t paying attention before turning back to Menrir. “They’ll likely seize their chance the moment the fighting starts. Accidents happened during shootouts, right?”

“Your plan?”

“Hunter’s diversion. We draw the dragons away, deal with them, and let the others handle the rest.”

“Works for me.”

After another two days of traveling in semi-silence, Derand announced the dragon clan was nearby. Since dragons had the advantage in the dark, they decided to camp and wait until the morning to launch the ambush. To keep from alerting the dragons, they couldn’t light a campfire. It didn’t help the wind was unrelenting. At least the group was downwind from the clan so there was no chance of their scents being discovered. It didn’t make Sandra feel much better. Every time the wind sliced through her clothes she feared it would change direction and give them away. If that happened, they had, at best minutes, to get away.

A heavy tense silence fell over the group. Sandra never thought she would miss the sound of Chris’s rambling and she hated it.

Just as everyone was getting ready to sleep for the night, a gunshot rang out,  startling the group. Sandra did a quick headcount and noticed Luther was not among them. Derand immediately ran off in the direction of the sound. Sandra motioned for Menri to approach from the air and then followed.

They found Luther nearby, running towards them. He clutched his bloody left arm.

“What happened?” Derand asked.

“I came out here to take a piss and a dragon tried to get the drop on me.”

“You killed it?” Sandra asked.

Luther nodded. “It scratched me pretty good when I went for my gun. But I got a lucky shot off.”

“Were there more?”

“Not that I saw, but I didn’t want to take the risk of being caught on my own again.”

“So instead you give away our position and lead them right to us?” Chris asked.

Before anyone could make another argument, Menrir landed beside them. “The dragons are coming!”

Sandra swore then ran for cover under a nearby tree. It wouldn’t do much against dragon fire, but they were lucky, the dragons would land instead of razing the entire area. The others quickly sought cover as well. Menrir was the only one who remained out in the open.

It didn’t take long before four dragons descended in the area, surrounding the dragoness. Sandra wasted no time leaning from behind cover and firing at the dragons. No point in trying to sell the deception now. They would smell the blood and know it didn’t come from Menrir.

Her shot hit the largest one in the side of the head. It jerked and gave a drunken stagger before collapsing to the ground. She quickly ran away from her position as a single blast of fire would be her end unless she kept moving.

Two more shots rang out from different directions. She spun around and raised her rifle, quickly firing another shot. The round hit the dragon in the shoulder, but Menrir quickly took advantage of the opening and leaped onto the dragon’s back, biting into its neck.

The final dragon roared and launched a stream of fire into the air. Sandra swore and fired a final round into the dragon’s neck. It crumbled to the ground instantly.

She loaded another round into the chamber. “Menrir! Go on without us! We can’t let them organize!”

Menrir quickly spread her wings and took to the air, scattering dirt, leaves, and twigs. Once the gusts stopped, Sandra ran after her.

She had lost track of the others in the chaos, but there was no time to look for them or worry about one of them trying something. The dragons were the top priority. They couldn’t be allowed to organize their defenses or else there was no hope of getting anywhere near them or getting away.

She had forgotten to light her lantern, so the sounds of battle guided her through the dark woods to Menrir. It didn’t take long as fires started erupting, making it much easier to see.

She arrived in a large clearing at the edge of the clearing was a rock formation that resembled a cave opening. Most of the surrounding trees were ablaze. Two dragons lay dead on the ground, and Menrir was in the middle of tearing the throat out of a third.

Sandra was about to raise her rifle when she heard a dragon’s roar behind her. Spinning around, she saw a Silver Horn-tail swinging its infamous spiked tail at her head. She just managed to dodge the blow, but a searing pain tore across her shoulder. She fought against the pain to raise the gun and fire a shot. The recoil of the rifle made her nearly drop the gun as her vision blurred.

It was clear, however, that her shot missed its mark.

The air filled with a crackling sound. Sandra dove to the ground just as Menrir descended on the dragon, her body glowing as the electricity raced through her body. The Horntail screamed and staggered. Menrir quickly finished it by breaking its neck.

Derand appeared and offered to help her up. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve taken worse scrapes.” She stood and checked her shoulder. It burned something fierce would likely scar, but it wasn’t life-threatening. “Where’s Luther?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

She said nothing. If neither of them had seen the man, he was either planning to betray them or he was killed during the previous battle. She turned to Menrir. The dragoness has several cuts on legs and torso, but she seemed fine. Her friend stared at the dragon bodies, a slight frown on her face and a small buzz coming from her body. She knew that look. It never meant anything good.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Something’s not right. One of the dragons called me a traitor.”

“You are helping a group of humans hunt your own kind.”

“I’ve helped kill dragons before, but they’ve never called me a traitor. And they were determined to keep me out of the cave. If they had focused more on attacking me, they might’ve put up more of a fight.”

Sandra thought it was odd as well. If the dragons wanted to keep out intruders, the cave entrance would be a great chokepoint. But they chose to fight in the open.

“Figure it out later,” Derand said. “We need to see if there are more nearby.”

“Everyone, get over here!” Chris yelled. His voice came from inside the cave.

They ran inside the cave. It was a short cavern. The first thing to hit Sandra was the smell of rotting meat. Chris stood at the back of the cavern, wearing a look of absolute disgust and horror. He pointed at a large hole in the floor. “This ain’t what I signed on for.”

Sandra swallowed a lump in her throat as her curiosity steered her toward it, Menrir’s words playing in her mind.

At the bottom of the hole were at least two dozen dragon eggs, all different colors. Each one had been carefully set into the ground so it stood upright, resembling a little graveyard. She inhaled sharply and clenched her fists at her sides.

She heard a low growl beside her.

“You have got to be fucking kidding,” Menrir said, just above a whisper. “Where did all these eggs come from?”

“Ain’t it obvious?” Chris asked. “They belong to those dragons.”

“Not possible,” Derand said. “I see Horntail, Nightstalker, and Ravager eggs down there. There are no Nightstalkers outside.”

“Then where did they get them?” Menrir repeated, her voice rising.

“What does it—” Chris began. His head exploded, showering them in blood and bone. The sound of a distant gunshot filled the air. Something slammed into Sandra’s back, sending her into the hole. She didn’t land on any of the eggs, but she was given no time to rest or figure out what happened as Menrir grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt and dragged her through the dirt into the corner.

Just above them, Derand crouched behind a nearby rock. Sandra went over their options. They had no idea how many people were outside the cave and no doubt the moment they showed their faces, it would be blown off. Fighting their way out wasn’t likely given Menrir was a Stormborne, the one species that couldn’t breathe fire. Talking their way out was the only option. The attackers obviously wanted the eggs. The hard part would be convincing Menrir to go along with it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a blood-chilling scream that was quickly silenced. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If it was a dragon, they wouldn’t be any happier about the turn of events.

“Honestly, can you go anywhere without being shot at?” a voice asked.

Derand looked down the hole and nodded. “He’s a friend.”

Sandra and Menrir climbed out of the hole and followed Derand to the cavern entrance. Standing near him was a male Short-Snout. The species was known for their sea-green scales and the frills on the side of their heads and tail similar to a fish’s fins. He was a little on the thin side, but the blood dripping from his muzzle was a start reminder he was still a dangerous creature.

“Good evening, ladies.” He turned to Derand. “Can we trust them?”

Derand nodded and the drake smiled again. Bowing low, he said, “My name is Lanry. A pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.”

“What are you doing here?” Derand asked.

“You know the answer to that. She didn’t like Lady Fenley from the beginning. Since she tried to have you killed, I can’t help  but wonder if she knows who you are.”

Sandra stepped between the two males. “Hold on. You two know each other?”

“Yes, Derand and I work for the same Matriarch.”

“Which Matriarch is that?” Menrir asked. “I never heard of a human in these parts working for a Matriarch. At least not willingly.”

Lanry smiled again. Something about his grin made Sandra uneasy and had nothing to do with the blood on his fangs. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. My Matriarch prefers her privacy.”

“She was right. The dragons were intercepting the egg shipments,” Derand said.

“Just once, I would like her to be wrong about something,” Lanry said with a low growl.

Menrir stepped forward, her body glowing again. After discharging during the last battle it was unlikely she had much charge left, but it still made Sandra uneasy. “You mean your Matriarch knew this shit was happening, and she still let this happen?”

The smile slid off the drake’s face. “You’re smarter than you look. Though I would be careful about saying too much. My Matriarch doesn’t like loose tongues.”

“Or loose ends?” Sandra said, her hand tightening around her rifle. With the distance between them, Lanry would have to pick one and hope to kill them before the other closed the distance between them. Derand seemed just as emotionless as ever.

“Don’t worry, love. If I had any intention of attacking you, I wouldn’t have wasted my advantage talking to you. Besides, Derand vouched for you.” He spun and walked towards the cavern. “Now we need to get these eggs out of here before someone else comes looking for them.”

“There’s too many for us to carry,” Sandra said.

Lanry gave a casual flick of his tail. “I’m aware, love. That’s why I brought a cart.”

Sandra raised a brow. Either Lanry was lying in wait the whole time or he followed them. How did she miss a grown dragon pulling a cart behind them?

“Can we seriously trust him?” Menrir whispered.

“He won’t kill you,” Derand said. Before following the drake into the cavern.

With all four of them, it took several trips to get all 29 eggs out of the cavern and into the small cart Lanry had parked in the bushes nearby. Lanry pulled the cart alone since Menrir was injured—despite her claims to the contrary.

As they walked back to Amethya, Lanry explained what was happening. The Matriarch—who remained nameless despite Sandra’s probing—had suspected for a while that Lady Fenley was involved in the trade of dragon eggs. The nobles purchased furniture from her and the egg was stashed inside. Since dragons didn’t have birth certificates, it was easy to fake registration.   All that was required was a well-placed bribe and a cover story for how the egg was acquired—usually abandoned by the parents—and no one could prove otherwise.

Lady Fenley was only the middle-man. She didn’t steal the eggs herself or have any direct involvement in selling them. Even if someone found the eggs, she could deny the whole thing and pin it on her employees. It all meant nothing unless they found who was giving her the eggs in the first place.

That was what the Matriarch was after. By informing the dragon clan of the shipments and having them stealing the eggs, the plan was to put pressure on Lady Fenley and, hopefully, get her to make a mistake. The problem was dragons started getting bold and refused to listen. Killing everyone, destroying the shipments, and refusing to hand over the eggs they stole.

“She warned them the humans would take action if they got too bold,” Lanry said with a slow shake of his head. “They should’ve listened. Perhaps my Matriarch could’ve done more to protect them.”

Sandra said nothing. This Matriarch was dangerous and ruthless. She didn’t want to know her name. She didn’t want anything to do with her. She knew about the egg trade among nobles, and she knew better than to get involved in it. Menrir would never allow it, and the humans would dare engage in such a thing were the kind of people who wouldn’t hesitate to commit murder to protect their interests.

“So what is your Matriarch planning to do then?” Menrir asked. “She just let her best lead die.”

“We kidnap Fenley,” Derand said.

“Hold on, you can’t just—” Sandra began.

Lanry quickly cut in. “We’re not killing her. Not yet anyway. Fenley isn’t stupid. She knows what the dragons were after when they attacked her shipments. When she finds out you and Derand survived, she’ll kill you, too. Why do you think she planted an assassin in your group?”

In silence, Sandra was awed by Lady Fenley’s planning and foresight. By implanting doubt in their minds and making them all doubt each other, they never would’ve considered that an assassin was sent purposely to kill them. But that would also mean she had a contingency plan in case her assassin failed. Likely she had them followed. Sandra was so focused on the group with her, she never considered the possibility.

“Wait, you can’t be serious!” Menrir cried.

Sandra snapped out of her thoughts. “What’s going on?”

“I was just asking you and your friend to handle stealing Fenley for us while we transport these eggs to a safe location,” Lanry said. “Shouldn’t be too difficult for one with your skillset. You are the infamous Dragonrider after all.”

“No one calls me that,” Sandra said, nettled.

“Not in your presence, love.”

“I want to see that bitch pay, but we can’t just waltz into a noble’s mansion and kidnap them,” Menrir said.

Lanry smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“We never agreed to any of this,” Sandra said.

“You say that as if you have a choice. Fenley won’t let you live once she finds out how much you know.”

****

Sandra questioned her sanity as she stared at Lady Fenley’s mansion in the distance. Even knowing Lanry’s proposal was their best chance at getting out of this alive, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a better way.

The drake had promised a Matriarch they had never met and whose name they didn’t know would protect them. It didn’t inspire confidence. They hadn’t fully healed from their injuries and now they were about to conduct a raid on a noblewoman’s home alone.

Slinging her rifle over her shoulder, she climbed onto Menrir’s back and patted the dragoness’s shoulder. It would be dawn soon, the perfect time to launch their surprise attack. Lady Fenley would immediately know the moment they appeared at her doorstep alive, so there was little point in trying to be subtle.

There wasn’t enough time to do proper recon to learn where Fenley’s bedroom was—assuming she was in there. The woman would catch on something was wrong when her assassins didn’t return. They would have to bet on luck that the window they chose was the right one or at least close to it.

Menrir spread her wings and kicked off the rooftop. The cold night wind rushed in Sandra’s ears. Her fingers went numb almost immediately.

Menrir circled around and flew towards the window on the second floor’s east side. Inside was the hallway. Sandra threw her cloak over her head.

The dragoness didn’t lose stride as broke through the glass and ran down the hall. Sandra quickly threw off her hood and drew her pistol. The doors gave way easily under Menrir’s claws and tail. So far, there had been no one attempting to challenge them, and all the rooms they check turned out to be empty. The lack of people worried her. There should be servants, guards running in a panic. Other than Menrir’s claws on the floor, there was silence.

Menrir kicked open a door near the middle of the hall and froze. Lady Fenley sat in a chair next to a window. It was such an odd sight Sandra had no idea how to react.

“I suspect you have questions.”

“I’m surprised you’re in a talking mood,” Sandra said, holstering her pistol and hopping down from the harness.

“I knew she would come for me eventually. I knew by hiring mercenaries, someone would attempt to send their agents. I had hoped the man I hired in secret would deal with them, but if you’re here, he’s most likely dead. No, I played my best hand and lost. I’m ready to accept my fate.”

“She?”

Lady Fenley raised a brow. “You don’t work for the Matriarch behind all of this?”

“What makes you so sure it’s a dragon?” Menrir asked with a low growl.

“Simple logic. How else would a wild dragon clan know my shipping schedule? And who else could convince them to attack it?”

“You were selling dragon eggs. It wouldn’t be hard to convince them.”

“Dragon eggs? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me!” Menrir growled and her body began to glow. Sandra quickly backed away. Even a glancing blow could be fatal.

Lady Fenley remained calm. “I assure you I don’t deal in dragon eggs. Although, it does explain quite a bit.”

“Explain what?”

“Clearly I’m just a pawn in a much larger game. They made me believe the dragons were attacking my shipments so I would retaliate. Once the dragons had been weakened or defeated, they would swoop in and take the eggs.”

“Someone went through all of this trouble to steal some dragon eggs? Why?”

“Who cares why?” Menrir asked. “You actually believe that?”

“It makes sense, Menrir. What I don’t get is why. Dragon eggs can’t be worth that much.”

Lady Fenley chuckled humorlessly. “It’s not about money. It’s power and status. Just look at you. The famous dragonrider. You’re a rank above typical mercenary. Just like any noble with a dragon in their care is holds more status than those who don’t.”

“Menrir is a friend,” Sandra said flatly. “Not some toy I show off.”

“Say what you will, but just by walking into a room, you draw attention. You’re a holder of the power whether you want it or not.” She straightened her dress and closed her eyes. “Now I think we’ve said all there is to say. If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

Menrir snorted and turned away. “If you’re not trying to kill us, we’re done here. I don’t do someone else’s wet work for free.”

“Actually, we did kill the dragons you hired us to go after,” Sandra pointed out.

“That you did,” Lady Fenley said. She crossed the room and retrieved a bulging coin purse and placed it in Sandra’s hands. “And with that, our business is concluded. Farewell, dragonrider. I pray we never meet again.”

****

The plan was to meet at the address Lanry gave them once they had Lady Fenley in custody. The building they had chosen was on the outskirts of the city and had no windows with only a single door leading in or out. Knowing what they knew now, it was certainly a trap, but knowing they had been unwitting pawns in someone’s game left a bad taste in Sandra’s mouth. And she suspected this Matriarch didn’t like loose ends.

Their best option for survival was to end things now and send the message that they were not to be messed with.

Before going inside, they flew around to make sure no one was waiting outside for them to go in. The inside was smaller than expected and almost completely empty except a single large crate in the middle room.

On the crate was a bulging coin purse sitting on a note. Sandra picked up the note and read it aloud.

“Thank you for your help. I assume Fenley told you the truth and you chose to side with her. Don’t worry. I will not come after you so long as you walk away. Inside you will find the eggs you recovered in the raid. I suspected you wouldn’t leave them behind after learning you played a hand in orphaning them.”

“Smug bastards planned this from the beginning,” Menrir said.

Sandra fought the urge to crumple the note in her fist and continued. “If it makes you feel any better, the dragons you killed were planning to use them as bargaining chips. I will not stand for such disgusting behavior. Maybe you can give these hatchlings the home they deserve. If anyone asks, you recovered the eggs on your own. Your legend grows, dragonrider. I look forward to hearing more of your adventures. L.” She crumpled the note in her fist and threw it to the floor.

“What would they have done if we hadn’t shown up?” Menrir asked.

“Probably have someone keeping an eye on this place. If we didn’t show, they would take them.”

With a heavy sigh, Sandra added the coins to the ones they already had. “So now what do we do with a crate full of dragon eggs? We’re pretty much dead if the wrong people catch us with them.”

Menrir looked around the empty building. “We have the coin. Maybe we should fix this place up and keep them here.”

Sandra almost laughed. “In all the years I’ve known you, you never suggested anything like this. This job really shook you.”

“Yes…no…maybe—fuck, I don’t know. I just can’t stop thinking about it.” She sat on the floor. For the first time, she looked weary and sad. It was worrying to see her like this. “My kind ain’t innocent. When a dragon is exiled or outcasted, the clan decides whether to keep the eggs, smash them, give them away to another clan. It happens a lot during food shortages, too.”

“Okay. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Let’s just say it’s not a fun feeling to find out you were pretty much thrown away by your parents. Then the only dragons who bothered to look after them were going to give them away.”

“I get it. But you do know we’re not nannies?”

“So we find someone who is. Pretty sure there’s someone out there who wants the job.”

Sandra smiled wryly. “Well, we do know a certain noblewoman who may be willing to call in some favors.” Her smile fell when she saw the look of displeasure on Menrir’s face. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I just don’t like being toyed with. They set up this whole thing, the raids, the job, the eggs, this place.”

“I know. I don’t like it either, but we can worry about them later.”

“Oh, we will pay them back one day. But for now, let’s work on building your legend, dragonrider.”

“I thought you didn’t like that name.”

Menrir shrugged. “I don’t. That’s why I’m going to give the humans a reason not to like it instead.”

Sandra smiled at that idea.