Page 1 of Dragon Gods

CHAPTERONE

SOFIA

The air in the rainforest used to be thick with humidity even in the dry season, but that was before the Dereyans massacred the dragons. Now, underneath the shadowy canopy of trees and ferns, the plants on the forest floor were dry and brittle, burned brown along the edges. They crunched softly beneath Sofia’s feet as she moved, an insignificant shadow among the towering trunks.

It took all her energy to ignore the growing number of dead trees along her route. Those that hadn’t dried out in the nearly nonexistent rainy season last cycle had suffered frostbite in the bone-chilling temperatures of the cold season. There had been a few weeks where the morning frost never melted, the sun unable to warm the frigid air. Her ancestors hadn’t even had a cold season, but the weather was only growing worse with each passing cycle. The disappearance of the dragons had been the start of the world’s end. Wueco was dying.

Sofia wasn’t even supposed to be out in the rainforest, especially not alone and armed with illegal weapons. No one was allowed outside the city wall, except for the men of the king’s army. Andher peoplehadn’t been allowed to carry weapons for over a hundred sun cycles, since the first rebellion had failed. But every Dragonborn knew that you didn’t walk beyond the city walls without protection. Even the king’s men who refused to believe in the so-called dragon-filth myths knew not to wander too far into the wilds. As if some innate instinct told them of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

She heard the small rabbit before she saw it, rustling around against the dried leaves and trying to free itself. With the racket it was making, it didn’t take long to find the creature, its back leg tangled in the snare she’d set a few days before, pulling tighter with every jerky move. It had been trapped just long enough to begin to panic.

It was a small thing, eyes wide and tawny ears pulled back tight against its head. She set her pack aside, pulling out the sharp dagger from her belt. A quick death was a kindness.

But when she reached forward to grab the rabbit by its neck, it twisted, back legs kicking as it bit down on her finger with more aggression than she expected from the little creature.

She hissed and pulled back her hand, giving a small laugh at the blood its sharp teeth had drawn. The rabbit was no longer struggling, but facing her, body taut and posed to attack again.

“You’re a feisty one,” she said, watching its nose twitching. It blinked and she almost thought it might have understood her. Not that magical rabbits existed, as far as she’d ever read.

Her hand twitched forward once more and it lunged, teeth bared. Another might have found the creature pathetic, struggling against its inevitable death, too weak to change its fate. But Sofia knew what it was to be small and hopeless and still keep fighting. Maybe that’s why the third time she reached forward, she only held it down as it lashed about before gently unhooking the cord from its leg.

The moment she let go of the rabbit, it disappeared into the underbrush, its tawny fur the same color of the dead leaves. She’d find more food elsewhere; there were plenty more snares to check and it wasn’t the purpose of her mission anyway.

She reset the snare and continued on, keeping her own footsteps as silent as she could on the dying land. Despite how often she dreamed of it, Sofia hadn’t been alive when the dragons disappeared. Her great-great-great-grandmother hadn’t even been born yet. But she had memorized every story she’d ever been told or read in secret. She absorbed the words like water in soil, storing them away to feed her hope in the darker moments.

A book she’d read once about the history of Wueco spoke of the forest as a place full of magic where the leaves always glittered with freshly fallen rain and the forest floor was nearly impossible to traverse with its thick undergrowth. Back then, humans could harness the magic of the world, challenging even the worst of the faeries that hunted in the rainforest. And the gods swept through the sky feeding the earth and watching over their people.

Now the green of the trees was wan and the undergrowth along the floor was dead except for in the shadiest regions of the woods. The only magic Sofia had ever felt was the occasional sprinkle across her skin at the peak of the rainy season. And if faeries still lived here, they didn’t dare get too close to the city wall where any movement was met with an arrow through the head. Still, she was more comfortable here amongst the dying rainforest than between the tall stone buildings of the city that towered as high as trees and always reached out to suffocate her.

Sweat beaded along her brow, just beneath the leather mask she wore and she took a moment to wipe it away. Her tight curls were a tangled mess, but they were tied back and out of her face. Even still, a few flyaways had come free and were plastered against her skin. She hated the mask and thought it was ridiculous to wear in the middle of nowhere like this, but who was she to question Micael and his rules.

Just thinking of the older man with his perpetual frown made her roll her eyes.

She stopped every few minutes to search the other snares she’d lain and after an hour, she had a line of dead rats and a couple of rabbits hanging along her belt and back. After two hours, she’d taken another haphazard circle, giving up on the hunt altogether. She was seeking bigger prey than the rodents, anyway. Her belt was heavy and the sun was stretching higher in the sky, leaving her unsettled and restless.

Somewhere after the third hour, she gave up her circling. Her fingers burned from where she’d been picking at her skin and she had to clench her hands to stop the nervous twitch. She couldn’t keep circling and waiting. She needed todosomething. So she veered right, almost hearing the hissed words of annoyance from the others on the wind. If they were real or just in her head, she didn’t know. She ignored them either way.

She was less familiar with this part of the forest, each step taking her away from her usual haunts. As she crossed over a fallen log, she noticed the small patch of bright blue and silver flowers blooming from the rotting wood, life fed from death.

The forest was never quiet, a constant whistle of birds, the hum of insects, and the scuffling of the creatures in the underbrush. It made it easier to sneak unseen through the trees, even with the brittle breaking of leaves. But it also made it easier for others to sneak up on her. Hunting was the constant balance of focusing on her own steps while staying constantly aware of the forest around her.

As she stepped carefully over another log, she heard the snuffling of something large and very much not human somewhere ahead. She stopped for just a moment, to get her bearings and note the current in the air. She’d need to remain downwind as she approached. Her steps turned more delicate as she moved. When she was a few feet away, close enough to hear the distinctive snort of the boar beyond a large fern, she paused again.

Even a small boar could injure her if she attacked outright and most the boars in this area were anything but small. She didn’t have a bow, only a few poison darts that would do nothing against the creature’s thick skin and her daggers that would require getting up close and personal with the boar’s tusks. Javi would tell her to leave it. They all likely would. This was not the plan. But an average-sized boar could feed their base for two weeks. They might have enough to donate to the poorer families of the slums. Plenty were starving.

Making the decision, she set her bag down and all but one of her kills. She slipped onto the lowest branch of a nearby tree. It moved beneath her weight, but she was quiet as she climbed. It took a few minutes to make her way onto a large branch, hovering just above where the boar was snuffling through an old and rotten log.

It was wide and squat, its tusks long and curved, and she swore she could smell the fetid stench of it from where she perched.

She pulled the small rat left on her belt, slicing it through the chest with her dagger. Even though it was already dead, the blood sluggishly welled at the incision. She rubbed the tips of her poison darts along the edge of her dagger until it shined in the dappled sunlight from above. Even with her missing ring finger, the movement was steady and well-practiced. Sending a quick prayer to the dragons, she dropped the rat onto the ground below.

The boar’s head immediately perked up, ears turning to where the rat had fallen. It took a second for the beast to make the decision, but then it was moving, nose pressed lightly to the ground as it searched out its prize. It seemed so excited for this new development.

“Sorry,” she whispered, more to herself than anything, before she jumped down from her branch, landing directly on top of the now squealing animal. She didn’t let it get out a second wail, jamming her dagger into the soft skin of its neck. She straddled it, holding it against the ground, even as it continued to buck and thrash underneath her. It took a few seconds for the poison she had wiped along the blade to take effect, but eventually the boar slumped forward, body heavy in death.

She stumbled up triumphant, ignoring the sharp sting of her breaths in her throat from the exertion. She didn’t love taking the life of an animal, but there was something thrilling in the fight and the win.

As she took another breath, the small wheeze in her chest told her she’d pushed herself too far, and she began to prep the beast. She was so focused on her new job, she almost missed the rustle of leaves and the smell of soap and sweat on the wind.

---