Dragonnapped

By Rae Graham

I’m cleaning Amethyst’s harness in the tack room when the rogues arrive. I don’t know how many there are—my only warning is the dragons’ shrieking before a horrid stench assails me, sharp pain spikes through my head, and I black out.

When I come to, my hands are tied behind my back. I sigh. This isn’t an entirely uncommon situation for me. But did they have to come on my birthday?

When I can focus enough to take stock, I realize I’ve been lashed to the bed of an old farm-cart. Through hazy vision, I can make out the bulk of a hide-clad man on the bench above my aching head. I catch a bright glint out of the corner of my eye and roll my head to the side. Amethyst lurches alongside us with a hobbled gait, encumbered with so many ropes that I’m amazed she can move at all, much less match the surprisingly fast pace the horse has set. She screeches when she sees me awake, fighting to reach me from the opposite side of the rickety cart.

I shake my head at her and lie back down before my captors can see me awake. Closing my eyes, I rely on my well-tuned ears to tell me exactly how much trouble I’m in this time. Creaking wheels. Shuffling dragon-claws. The thumping of heavy hooves. Two people breathing. One is myself, the other my captor. The rush of the Rados River rolls beneath us as we pass over a bridge. And then… nothing else. How could that possibly be?

I crack my eyes open to check. Yes, there is no one else near. It might have only taken one man to grab me, but where are the others who caught Amethyst? She’s not an easy dragon to handle, even for the most experienced.

It’s best to proceed with caution. However, I figure I can risk a bit more movement now. Easing up, I roll my shoulders back and start untangling the knot at my wrists. The rope is rather loose. They obviously don’t think I’m a threat—even my father ties a better knot when he’s training me. I’m not sure whether to be offended or grateful.

I slip out and rework the ropes in record time, reinserting my hands for show. Just as I finish, the cart stops.

“Ho, Jarrik!” the man above me calls out.

Another brute approaches from the tree line atop a brown bear. “Andrik! What took you so long, man? It’s only one small girl and a half-dead dragon!”

“Had to be careful so as not to wake her, didn’t I?” Andrik replied. “What if she were to start screaming?”

“You ought to have gagged her like I said!”

“Oh, come, Jarrik! I couldn’t do that. It’s going too far.”

I roll my eyes. I might be ‘only a small girl,’ but I hadn’t even thought of screaming. Only an amateur would make that mistake. These are, without a doubt, the most incompetent rogues I have ever dealt with.

The man on bear-back, Jarrik, comes ‘round the side to check on me. “Well, Andrik, she’s well awake now!” He leans down, trying to stuff a filthy rag into my mouth. But I’ve learned a trick or two about tossing around men who aren’t expecting it. And a woman in my line of work is quite unexpected. I wait until he is most unbalanced and grab for his outstretched arm, pulling him toward me. In one fluid movement, I twist away and straddle his back. He tries to buck me off, but I push his face firmly against the splintering wood and lash a real knot around his wrists.

“Oy, Jarrik!” Andrik scrambles to get up. But his bulky frame is too closely packed into that seat, and it takes several seconds for him to get at me. Plenty of time for me to relieve Jarrik of his twice-forged knives.

Andrik pauses when he sees me wielding the blades. “Come now, girl.” He speaks timidly, as if addressing a frightened dragon rather than an angry woman. “I don’t want to hurt you. We just need to pass our initiation test. I’ll set you free straight after.”

I laugh. “I think it’s you who should be begging for freedom.”

A moment of hesitation before he swings. But that moment is all I need. My kick hits decisively and lands him on one knee. Fist follows foot. And foot follows fist again. Jarrik calls a muffled warning. Rather than block, however, Andrik attempts to duck. Too slow. I catch his chin just off the mark. A few unsavory words and glancing blows later see him bound and bleeding beside his friend, although not seriously harmed. Climbing over the side of the bed, I free Amethyst, then lash Jarrik’s bear to the back of the cart.

“Many thanks, boys,” I call over my shoulder as I gather the reins. “You’ve just given me quite the birthday gift!” The men cry muffled protests through their gags as I send the cart lurching onward into the deep forest.

Finally pulling to a stop in the middle of an unmarked clearing, I notice a broad-shouldered man approaching from the hollowed-out bole of a tree. He smiles at me, taking the reins of the carthorse.

“Welcome back, Stasya. You’ve done well.” He turns to my sullen luggage. “Oh, and well done, men. I have never before seen trainees fail so spectacularly.” The man lets out a booming laugh. “Not only did you neglect to properly apprehend the least ferocious of dragon breeds, but you even fell prey to my youngest daughter!”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

By day a library assistant, by night a writer, Rae Graham weaves fantastical tales for the YA reader filled with heart and hope. If you can catch her without her nose in a book or a pen in hand, she would be more than thrilled to share in an adventure or relax with a chai and chat. She currently lives in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, with her family.

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