Chapter 1
“To your left!” Claggor bellowed.
Vi danced backward, sweat dripping down her face and neck. “Don’t help them!” she barked. “You think a dragon’s gonna give you a polite heads-up?”
It’s something she found herself saying all too often, and from the way she could practically hear Claggor’s eye roll, he was thinking the same thing. As Vi circled to the right, she heard Mylo loud-whisper to Claggor (something about her being a hard-ass).
“If you’re gonna talk shit, you’re up next,” she warned Mylo before lunging at the apprentice, Ajuna. Ajuna successfully blocked her blow and they parried back and forth, their wooden training swords clashing in the air.
“You’re in for it now, dumbass,” Claggor griped at his brother in the background.
Ajuna went on the offensive, striking faster and faster, forcing Vi to block his moves. Vi had an impenetrable guard when she focused, but she purposefully created small openings for Ajuna to take advantage of if he was paying close enough attention to notice them. It wasn’t long until he landed a hit to the side of her ribs, calling the match.
They both lowered their swords. Ajuna panted from exertion, wiping a hand across his forehead.
“Well done,” Vi told Ajuna. “You’ve gotten better at noticing openings in your opponent’s defense. What’s a strategy you could use to break through a dragon’s guard? Anyone?”
Another apprentice offered Ajuna a waterskin, and he took a deep drink.
“Knowing the weaknesses in their anatomy,” Aximander suggested from the sidelines.
Vi nodded. “Good idea. And what might those be?”
The answers came quicker this time. “Stomach, underside of the neck, the wings, and the eyes and snout,” Lem called.
“Correct. What does that tell us about the dragon’s behavior?”
For a moment, the apprentices considered. Aximander spoke up again. “It tells us what they’ll be most protective of. So we can take advantage of that in a match.”
“Good,” she praised. “That’s one strategy to keep in mind. Any other ideas?”
“Blind spots,” Shomi said. “And using distractions against them.”
“That too,” Vi agreed. “Now, I want you all to think about more potential strategies as you watch the next match. Mylo, time to put your money where your mouth is.”
Claggor shoved his brother forward. Mylo flipped him off before snatching a wooden sword from the training weapons rack. Mylo smirked at her as he stepped into the sparring circle, cracking his neck dramatically.
A grin twitched at Vi’s mouth. She was going to enjoy this.
“Gladly,” Mylo drawled.
“It’s a real match,” Vi warned Mylo. During training matches, they called the match after the first blow that landed. Then there were real matches, that went until someone yielded, or until someone landed what would be a death blow if they weren’t sparring – to the throat, heart, or center of the back.
“Well, duh. How else am I actually gonna kick your ass?”
Vi clicked her tongue. “Shame I’m sparring with you and not your ego. I have a feeling it would be a far more formidable opponent.” She struck first, thrusting fast in an attempt to catch him unprepared, but Mylo caught the blow and returned it with a riposte.
They had been sparring together for so long that they knew each other’s tricks almost by heart. Mylo tried a feint, but she knew his tell in his stance, and was able to land a blow to his shoulder. When Vi went for an undercut, Mylo anticipated the move and blocked it with ease.
Vi’s ribs smarted where she’d been hit by Ajuna. She ignored the occasional spike of pain as the match increased in tempo, both of them circling and striking faster and faster.
Mylo was a skilled fighter; there was no doubt about it. But unfortunately for him, Vi was better. She switched up her typical combinations and slowly but surely put Mylo on his back foot, forcing him to stay on the defensive.
“When fighting a dragon,” Vi shouted to the apprentices as she parried a blow from Mylo, “the wings are always the first target. Arrows are preferable so that you can keep your distance. Every good hunter always carries a bow, and knows how to use it.” She feigned left and landed a successful hit to the ribs when Mylo didn’t counter in time.
“Once you’ve taken away their major advantage of flight–” Vi could tell that Mylo was tiring the longer the match dragged on, his movements slowing by a nearly-imperceptible amount. Vi was able to connect once more, this time to his thigh, drawing out a low hiss from her brother.
“You’ll close in with your squad. Remember, dragons are huge. Most of their power comes from brute strength, not speed. Agility and grace is always on your side. Go for small, quick movements. Work together, coordinate, and have multiple plans in place before you confront the dragon. Be prepared to retreat if you need to. There’s no shame in knowing when a match is lost.” This was punctuated by a series of slashes, but Mylo had been reinvigorated by the clear jab and blocked them with teeth gritted from pain.
Vi jumped backwards, staying on the balls of her feet. She continued to lecture the apprentices. “You’ll want to distract the dragon to make it easier to get close. A dragon’s strongest senses are sight and smell. As such, the most effective distractions will include movement – such as waving your arms or flags that your archers carry, or setting off small flares. But noise works too; particularly near or behind the head.”
Deciding that she’d given Mylo enough of a reprieve, she closed in, feigning over and over again. She landed a jab to his stomach, and he parried her next uppercut.
“Once you get close, avoid blows to the scales,” Vi called. “They’re the strongest part of a dragon, and nothing will penetrate them. Watch out for both the snout and the tail – they are the deadliest parts of a dragon. Be particularly weary of Morningstartails, Daggertails, Swordtails, Clubtails, and Scorpiontails.”
Mylo tried to go on the offensive, but Vi quickly shut him down. In the background, she heard Claggor snort.
“Remember where dragons are the weakest,” Vi said to the apprentices, ignoring Claggor. She kept her focus on Mylo, his face red from exertion as he shifted his grip on the sword. “You’ll want to target the front of the neck–” deciding she’d played around long enough, Vi moved in, dashing to the left and breaking through Mylo’s weakening guard. “Slash, and sever–”
Vi raised the sword and swung, softening the powerful blow at the last second and merely tapping the side of Mylo’s neck with the chestnut wood. Match over.
“And kill.”
Brutal heat radiated from the forge, the flames licking against charcoal casting the space in a warm, orange hue. Vi lifted a hand in front of her face to shield her eyes from the slight sting of the hot air. Across the smithy, glowing sparks flew from the anvil with every strike of the hammer.
“Heard you kicked Mylo’s ass in the ring,” Ekko said by way of greeting, pausing the shaping of the head of a sword for only a moment. He swapped out the hammer for a pair of long, metal tongs and lifted the blade in progress, inspecting his work.
“He had it coming.” And, in all fairness, Mylo had given her more than a couple bruises during their match as well.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Ekko said dryly. “I assume you don’t want my advice on not getting into real matches right before a mission.”
“You assume correctly.” Vi leaned against one of the far walls, near where completed tools and weaponry hung to cool.
He gave her a look.
“I’m older than you, little man,” she threatened.
Ekko walked the blade back to the forge, sliding it over the coals to heat it up again. “I didn’t say anything.” He released the blade and set the tongs on a nearby stone.
Vi raised a brow.
Ekko, wisely, changed the topic. “So, what’s up? Just wanted to see how your baby was coming along?” Ekko walked over to the rack and selected a sword, lifting it from its spot on the wall.
“You know me.” Her eyes fixated on a familiar leather handle. It wasn’t anything special, with the exception of the red stone embedded into the pommel.
Ekko offered it to her. “It’s done. What do you think?”
Vi accepted the blade, the handle slipping into her hand with ease, like it remembered her as much as she did it, like it knew exactly where it belonged. She examined the blade, even reaching out a finger to glide along its edge, testing its sharpness. This sword had been her father’s before her, and after his death, she’d used it to make her first kill. She’d taken it with her on every mission since.
A smile curved on her lips. “It’s perfect, as always.” The sword occasionally required repair, as any material regardless of strength obtained damage fairly easily when fighting against dragons. Dragonscale was stronger than iron, bone, brick, steel – and while they tried to avoid striking it directly, the slightest misstep or a particularly quick dragon made it happen easily.
She experimentally swiped it through the air, savoring the beautiful whoosh sound it made.
“Careful. You’re going to take off a hand,” Ekko grumbled, backing away when she got a little too close. He conveniently maneuvered until there was an anvil between them. “And then who’d repair everything for you?”
“I’m sure Claggor could manage.” A blatant lie. Ekko was their best blacksmith by a mile, and they all knew it.
“Sure. If you don’t mind going up against a dragon with a rock and a twig.” They shared a grin.
“Well, thank you.” Vi sheathed the sword at her hip. “Want to join me for target practice?”
“Nah, I have a couple more blades I want to get through. I’ll see you at dinner.” In the absence of other family, the two of them, plus Mylo and Claggor, all shared a home. They sometimes drove Vi to near-insanity, but she loved them anyways.
Vi gave him a playful salute and left the smithy. She strode through the village, passing by structures of wood and stone. Most were homes, but they also had collective kitchens and dining spaces, interspersed with the occasional smithy and multiple small gardens. At the outskirts of their small, cliffside village, right before the forest began to unfold, they had their training yards and sparring rings.
Tucked a safe distance away, the archery fields sat in the forest itself. They had another archery field near the cliffs for those just learning how to handle a bow, but the forest offered a much more real and complex environment for everyone else to practice in.
That’s where Vi was headed now, to get in some last-minute target practice before her mission tomorrow. She knew she didn’t need it, but it never hurt to keep her abilities sharp. Plus, there was something soothing about solo target practice. Just the trees, the wind, the bow and arrows, the target, and oneself.
Leaves crunched underfoot as Vi followed the well-worn path weaving through the trees. She selected her favorite practice bow, a longbow tailored to her size. She found herself out here often enough that Ekko made a bow to, in his words, “stop having to hear her griping about the bows being slightly the wrong size.”
Vi loaded an arrow and levelled it towards a target, a painted circle high up on a branch. She squinted, honing in.
Breathe. In, out.
Release. The arrow flew across the forest with a faint whistle.
Bullseye.
Claggor slapped Vi on the back so hard she choked on her mouthful of bilberry. “Big day,” he crowed.
Vi swallowed, giving herself a minute to regain her ability to breathe before she coughed, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
Claggor scoffed. “Sure, Miss Solo-missions-are-too-dangerous-for-everyone-but-me.”
Vi frowned at him. “It’s about the focus–”
“Sure, whatever you say. Just…” he softened for a moment, adding, “Stay safe out there, okay?”
Vi knew that her family’s worries came from a good place. No matter how skilled a loved one might be, the thought of them facing down a dragon was still terrifying.
“I’ll be perfectly fine. You have nothing to worry about,” she assured him.
“Yeah, Claggor, don’t you know?” Mylo butted in. “She’s the best hunter ever known to man! All dragons cower in fear when she approaches!”
Vi narrowed her eyes at Mylo, who she hadn’t noticed enter. “Somehow, I feel like I’m being mocked.”
“Maybe ‘cause you are.”
Vi flung her wooden spoon at him from across the kitchen, and Mylo ducked just in time. The spoon hit the wall behind where he’d been standing.
Mylo’s gaze tracked where the spoon had hit the wall, and then back to her. “Oh, it is on,” Mylo warned. He grabbed the spoon and flung it right back.
Vi, being in a chair, was at a severe disadvantage. She tried to dodge, but it still hit her in the arm. She scowled.
Mylo was already going for the pillows on the bench against the wall. Vi quickly searched for ammunition and selected a couple of radishes on a nearby table. Most of the village elders would probably berate her for throwing food, but most of the village elders didn’t have Mylo for a little brother.
When Claggor tried to intervene, he got struck by a stray radish. That, of course, was treated as a declaration of war. Claggor snatched pillows from their rooms and started catapulting the projectiles at the both of them. Soon, they were in a full-scale pillow fight, the numerous radishes laying abandoned on the floor. The pillows whipped through the air, occasionally making contact when someone was distracted.
“Idiots, all of you,” Ekko declared from the doorway upon seeing the scene before him. He snatched a pillow off the ground and placed it back on the bench. “It’s send-off day. A time for peace and tradition. A time for respecting–”
A pillow hit him on the side of the head.
“Oh, you are going to regret that.”
Vi sat on a log and fiddled with her scabbard. Her send-off ceremony was set to kick off at any moment. One of the village elders, Babette, sat down on the log next to her. Even without looking up, she could feel Babette’s eyes on her.
“How do you feel? Nervous?”
Vi shrugged. “I feel fine. You know I don’t get nervous.” It’s the truth. Once upon a time, Vi used to feel afraid in moments when her life was in acute danger. But she hadn’t felt that in a long time. Now, there was only silence. Her, adrenaline, anticipation of the kill. The rush of blood, the perfect stillness and focus.
No. No, she wasn’t nervous.
“Still. Lone missions are intimidating.”
The average hunter hated solo missions. Vi, on the other hand, loved them. When she was alone, it was just her and her prey. When other hunters were around, she had to worry about making sure she didn’t bring anyone back injured. Or worse.
Not wanting to argue, Vi merely said, “Mm.”
“Are you ready for the ceremony, dear?” Babette asked.
Vi glanced up towards the clearing. Grass and the occasional wildflower sprung from the dirt. Her fellow villagers stood and sat in a circle, some holding plates and cups. “Born ready.”
“Good.” The elder patted her knee. “‘Cause you’re up.”
Vi stood obediently. Babette left to rejoin the circle, and when she was called over, Vi walked to the center of the circle.
The send-off ceremonies were customary prior to leaving on dragon-hunting missions. While Vi secretly thought they were a waste of time, and did not in fact bring the luck they promised, she would never complain about good food.
Vi sat in the center of the circle. One village elder dipped their fingers in a bowl filled with charcoal dust and sketched runes for good luck, protection, stamina, strength, and wisdom across her skin.
Another village elder passed her a hefty tray of food. She wasted no time digging into the plate of wild boar, goat cheese, and vegetables. The hearty meal was prepared specifically to prepare the body of a hunter for the grueling task ahead.
Lastly, once she finished eating and the runes had been drawn, an apprentice pressed a goblet into her hands. It contained only a sip of wine, not enough to feel even slightly intoxicated. That, too, was for luck (and also enjoyment, but usually no one mentioned that part).
As the village said their goodbyes and wished her well on her mission, Ekko handed her a pack loaded with dried and salted meat, dried berries, and a waterskin for sustenance, and a bandage for emergencies. She threw it over her shoulder and thanked him. There was only one thing left to do.
Vi turned around and slipped off her tunic, leaving her in long, light brown pants and an undergarment on top. She raised her arms and shimmied into her dragonscale vest. All hunters had one crafted for them after their first kill, using the smallest scales the dragon had to offer (taken from their tail). The armor wrapped around her torso, cradling the most delicate parts of her heart and back. While the vest could be taken on and off on without assistance, it was tradition for a loved one to lace it up for you prior to departing on a mission. Probably because of community, or remembering who you were fighting for, or something stupid and cheesy like that.
Vi wouldn’t know. But she never forgot who she fought for.
Ekko’s deft fingers wove the laces along her spine, tightening them until both scaled sides of the vest met in the middle. The vest wasn’t the most comfortable, but it had saved her life a number of times, so she wasn’t complaining.
As Ekko finished tying the laces, Vi dipped her head and breathed deeply, adjusting to the faint weight and restriction on her chest. She could see the patchwork colors of the front of the armor. Her vest was mostly orange – the color of her first kill – but was interpresed with the occasional red, yellow, or green scale from some of her other kills. She’d had to mend it after a couple particularly brutal blows, the kind of which she wouldn’t have survived without the armor to begin with.
Ekko patted her shoulder, indicating that the vest was tied. She slipped her tunic back over her head, now with the vest secure underneath, and turned to her longtime friend.
“Light no fires,” Ekko said. Their version of a goodbye.
“Set no sails,” Vi finished.
Claggor and Mylo stood nearby, and they all exchanged a hug and the same farewell phrase.
At last, Vi adjusted her scabbard and marched off into the horizon.
Vi first noticed the signs a few days in. Broken branches, large animal bones, the occasional enormous clawmark in the dirt – they all painted a picture of time and direction if one knew what to look for, and affirmed that she was on a dragon’s trail.
At night, Vi made camp wherever she could find – usually against a large tree, so she didn’t have to watch her back – and ate, drank, and rest. Thankfully, dragons slept during the night and were active during the day, so there was no reason to hunt at night. They’d never been able to find a dragon’s nest, anyway. Too well-hidden and well-protected.
During the day, Vi followed wherever the signs led her. Even as the tracks became more numerous, the dragon who made them proved elusive. She had yet to make a direct sighting, no matter how many piles of fresh bones from the monster’s meals (they were known to particularly enjoy deer and sheep) she found.
When Vi needed a break, she occupied her time by finding a place to sit and re-sharpen her multitude of weapons. As a lone hunter, she carried her sword, but also a handful of daggers, a quiver of arrows, and of course her bow, which she wore slung on her back. All of this was to say that after many years, she’d become fine-tuned for hunting and killing dragons, from how she’d trained on every weapon until they felt like an extension of herself, to how shed honed her body, to the weapons she used crafted exactly to her size.
And when she bored of that (a rare occurrence), she turned to the last item she’d brought with her: a leather-bound book, approximately half blank pages, half filled with her drawings and writing, and a sliver of charcoal.
Vi’s observations and recordings on hunting. Everything she knew about dragon breeds and how to defeat them. Although she knew its contents by heart, she riffled through the pages sometimes, as a reminder.
Killing a dragon was an art. Their scales were impenetrable by typical means. Every amount of sharp metal or heat they’d tried had not succeeded. So one had to know precisely where and when to strike in order to survive. Aim for the wings, and fell a dragon. Aim for the eyes, and blind it. Aim for the joints, and make it bleed.
But to kill it? Stomach or underside of the throat. The underside of the dragon was the only place covered in a leathery hide, rather than scales, and could be broken with a sharp blade. The stomach was protected by its wings, and even if it wasn’t, it spanned a larger area and required much more effort to deal a lethal blow.
So throat it was, if a hunter wanted the kill.
She recorded all of this and more – from different scale colors and tail types to habits and behaviors – in the book, and utilized it to teach all the apprentices that would become the next generation of dragon-hunters after her.
Another couple of days passed before she actually spotted the dragon: a flash of red, circling high, high above.
Vi whipped out her bow and had an arrow cocked and aimed within seconds. She breathed in and out steadily, keeping her hands still as she followed its course. It was so high up that it looked only like a flash of bright red, not even vaguely dragon-shaped from here. But their eyesight was unparalleled, and chances were, it had spotted her.
Dragons either addressed the threat or flew away, depending (at least Vi suspected) on how they assessed the danger and how close the hunters were to their territory or nest, or whatever they deemed theirs.
But this one did neither. Rather, it turned and dove down towards the ground, at least a mile away from her.
Vi frowned. She knew better than to waste an arrow when it stood no chance of spanning the distance between her and the target. So, she kept the bow cocked, the arrow ready to spring as she stalked in the direction it had dove.
This was odd behavior. Perhaps the dragon truly hadn’t spotted her, and had gone for an easy meal. Some deer, maybe.
Yes, that had to be it. And if she hurried, she might be able to catch it unawares. A couple arrows to the wings, and so close to the ground, it would be good as dead.
Vi quickened her steps to a brisk walk. She wanted to get there as fast as possible, but if she ran, she would drain stamina she needed for the fight. As she went, she kept her feet light on the ground, trying to avoid noise as much as possible.
She slowed when she could hear crunching and the swiveling of a scaled tail over the ground. Vi peered through the trees and smiled.
Bingo.
The beast hunched close to the ground, over what appeared to be a fresh deer carcass. Crimson scales glinted brilliantly in the sunlight.
Her heart kicked into high gear, anticipation racing through her blood.
Vi cocked the arrow back. She spotted the tail at the last second: a curled, venomous barb, flicking back and forth dangerously.
A slight complication – Scorpiontails were the rarest type of tail, and one of the most deadly. Should that venomous barb breach skin, it would quickly burrow its way into the bloodstream, and the victim would be dead within a few minutes. A few excruciating, horrific minutes.
In all her years of hunting, Vi had only encountered a handful Scorpiontails. But, no matter. She’d kill it just the same.
Vi inhaled, exhaled. Lined up the shot. She felt her mind clear, and her breath even, and she simply became.
The dragon’s head shot upright. The beast stared straight at her, its eyes a vivid gold.
Fuck.
Vi loosed an arrow, but the dragon shot into the air at the last second, leaving the arrow to hit a tree on the other side of the clearing. Vi scrambled for another arrow, when she saw it.
Cobalt, several shades darker than the sky, flashing above the trees.
Double fuck.
Vi readied her next arrow, fumbling for a rare second. Two dragons? She’d never fought two dragons alone. Hell, she’d never fought two dragons at once, ever. Even for a team, that had to be certain death.
Still, what else could she do? She’d obviously been spotted. And thankfully, the red one seemed to be retreating, so hopefully it would be a one-on-one fight. Vi lifted the bow and aimed for the blue dragon's wings. Her target was getting bigger. Which meant… it was headed straight for her.
Inhale. Exhale. Quickly now. Fire!
The dragon swerved to the side, and the shot missed. Vi reached for another arrow. If she couldn’t get at least one hit on its wings, it would be able to fly during their fight, and leave her at a severe disadvantage.
It swerved at the next shot, too. Vi grit her teeth. Why couldn’t she hit it?
The vividly deep blue dragon was now close enough to make out most of its features. And – shit. It just kept getting worse, didn’t it?
Because there was a rider on the monster’s back.
Her predicament dawned on Vi as the dragon tucked its wings and descended, landing in the clearing in front of her. It wasn’t a small dragon, either, Vi noted even as her mind raced. Hateful, murderous eyes settled on her, and a vicious snarl bared knifelike teeth at her. On its back, a figure dressed from head-to-toe in black and leather brown sat up and lifted goggles off their head. A cascade of dark navy hair fell from their shoulders at the motion.
The whole thing had been a trap.
And she’d fallen right for it.
“Going somewhere?” the rider smirked.