Assassin Read online

  “This could put the SandWing stronghold under our control,” said the other MudWing. “That could win us the war.”

  “Yes,” hissed the SandWing. “It may have escaped your notice, but that is the point of all this.”

  The second MudWing swung his head toward her with an expression Deathbringer couldn’t read in the dark.

  “The point for us,” he said, “is to keep our tribe safe. You promised Queen Moorhen that an alliance with you would protect us from an invasion by the SeaWings. She only agreed because she knew Commander Tempest could be a serious threat. She does not particularly care who sits on the SandWing throne, and neither do I.”

  “Commander Tempest will be here tomorrow,” the SandWing said smoothly. “We’ll reconvene then.”

  Tomorrow. I could kill her tomorrow and be done with the mission.

  Then what? Fly home, report my success, and get help? Could anyone get here in time to save Quickstrike?

  Deathbringer wanted to go back and check on Quickstrike, but he thought he shouldn’t risk moving around the jungle too much, especially since then he’d have to return during the daytime. So he found a shadowy tree with a good view of the biggest tent and curled onto one of the higher branches to wait.

  The next morning was unusually cold, the kind where setting something on fire would have been very helpful. But of course he couldn’t do that. Deathbringer rubbed his talons together as quietly as he could. His eyes felt tired, as if someone had rolled heavy boulders up against the back of his eyeballs.

  One thing he had noticed since leaving the Night Kingdom was that his sleep patterns seemed to be shifting. In the fortress, he had always lived on a regimented schedule of morning training, but both he and Quickstrike had found themselves staying awake longer and longer each night, and then sleeping later and later each morning. The brighter the moons were, the more wide-awake Deathbringer felt.

  He didn’t mind the change, although he had to admit it made early-morning assassination watch a lot more painful.

  The morning crawled on and the sun scraped slowly up the sky, which remained empty of dragon wings. Nobody arrived. Nobody left. Dragons poked their heads out of their tents or patrolled along the edge of the lagoon. Most of them were SandWings, with a few MudWings here and there. Deathbringer got the feeling that everyone was waiting, exactly as he was.

  Finally his attention was caught by an enormous splash off to his right. He lifted his head to look and saw a small whale come surging out of the water, thrashing and twisting. A moment later, sharp blue claws sank into the whale’s sides and it was dragged back under, disappearing in a cloud of red bubbles.

  He stared at the spot intently and realized that there were ripples extending far out from that spot … as if a parade of sea dragons were swimming their way.

  Sure enough, a few moments later, an enormous blue-green SeaWing emerged from the water, shaking her wings vigorously. She was powerfully built, as big as Morrowseer, with broad shoulders and gleaming teeth and a healing burn scar on her neck, and she had a trident longer than Deathbringer strapped to her back.

  Holy mother of lava, Deathbringer thought. I’m supposed to kill THAT?

  Commander Tempest was followed by two more SeaWings: a big green male dragon with dark green eyes and gold bands around his ankles, and a wiry female with small eyes and dark gray-blue scales. Behind them, keeping their scales in the water as they eyed the troops on the beach, were about twenty other SeaWing soldiers.

  “Blister!” Commander Tempest shouted, stamping one foot in the sand. “We’re here! Let’s get this over with!”

  The SandWing from the night before emerged slowly from her tent, holding her head high. Even from a distance, Deathbringer could see her eyes glittering with danger. A pattern of black diamond scales ran along her back and real black diamonds hung from her ears, outlined in white gold. An aura of menace seemed to surround her.

  Even standing next to the towering SeaWing commander, Blister was still the most terrifying dragon on the island.

  “So pleased you’ve finally chosen to join us,” Blister said, stopping far enough away that she wouldn’t have to look up at Tempest. “Will Queen Coral be attending at last?”

  “Ha,” Tempest said in a big, jovial voice. “The queen has her own kingdom to run. She won’t ever have to meet with you as long as I’m here to handle our strategy summits. But she did send her husband, Gill.” The commander swept one wing at the green dragon, nearly knocking him over, but he dodged neatly and gave Blister a charming smile.

  “And this is my third-in-command, Piranha,” Tempest went on, nodding at the other dragon. “I left my second watching the troops, of course. Make sure they don’t have too much fun, ha!” Her booming bark of a laugh was startling every time; a cluster of seagulls nearby kept shooting into the air when it went off, then circling back to land cautiously until it happened again.

  “Queen Coral sends her respects,” said Gill, bowing, although not very deeply. “She has sent me to open a conversation with you about possible peace negotiations.”

  “Oh?” Blister glowered at him.

  “Yes. We’re starting to wonder if this war is really worth it for anyone involved,” Gill said. “Perhaps there’s a way to reach a diplomatic accord. Maybe by dividing the Kingdom of Sand among the three of you, for instance.”

  Deathbringer noticed that a number of MudWings had crept closer to listen. Even a few SandWings had stopped what they were doing, their heads tilted toward the cluster of dragons around Blister.

  Blister regarded Gill without blinking for a long, tense moment.

  “How interesting,” she said at last. “I wonder if anyone involved would even consider it. Peace by negotiation. How … undragonly.”

  “I wager I could talk them into it,” Gill said, smiling again.

  “Would be fine by me,” Tempest said. She stamped her foot again, splattering sand on Blister’s claws. “I mean, I love being the war commander and all, but it’s a messy business, aren’t I right? Ha!”

  Blister gave her sandy claws a withering look.

  Deathbringer had a sudden, worrying thought. I can’t let Gill succeed. Quickstrike said the war must go on — if he talks everyone into peace, the NightWing plan will be ruined.

  But what do I do? Do I have to kill him, too?

  That’s not in my orders.

  And he’s married to the queen of the SeaWings. Who knows what new problems I might cause?

  So how do I stop him?

  His orders weren’t sufficient. He had a sudden bracing image of his future — if this was always going to be his job, his orders might never be sufficient.

  “Well,” Blister said, flicking her tongue in and out. “Let’s start by reviewing my new attack plan, shall we? I feel confident that if this works, the war will be over without any need for … compromises.”

  “Can’t wait to see it,” Tempest boomed. She glanced at the biggest MudWing. “Oh, hey, you’re here!”

  “Yes,” Blister said. “We’ve been waiting for you for a couple of days now.” She turned to sweep back into her tent.

  “Weapons,” the MudWing interjected.

  “Right!” Commander Tempest swung the trident off her back and dropped it with a thud on the sand at her feet.

  The MudWing stepped forward and placed his spear beside the trident. Blister rolled her eyes, reached into a sheath on her ankle, and tossed a wicked-looking dagger onto the pile of weapons.

  Gill, Piranha, two MudWings, and a pair of SandWings did the same with their weapons, and then the entire group vanished into Blister’s tent.

  Deathbringer studied the discarded objects for a moment: another trident, a twisted white horn that came to a claw-sharp point, a sword, another dagger, and two more spears that matched the MudWing’s.

  An idea was beginning to form.

  The strategy meeting went on all day, which was plenty of time for Deathbringer to get what he needed from a snoring guar
d in one of the jungle camps.

  He realized that his claws were shaking as he moved into position. He knew he could do what he needed to … but he wasn’t as certain about escaping afterward.

  If I get caught, my life is over. And then what happens to Quickstrike?

  He couldn’t think about her in this moment. He had to focus on the mission, as she would have ordered.

  But is this the right thing to do? Would she approve? Would she tell me to be stealthier?

  There was no way to know; he was the only one here who could make this decision.

  And they were coming out of the tent now. He had to do this now.

  Blister emerged first, her face a mask of barely concealed displeasure. Behind her came the MudWing general, and directly behind him was Commander Tempest.

  “You’re right, you’re right,” Tempest said, shaking her head. “Between our three armies, this plan could work. I’m real tempted by this idea of a peace accord, though — aren’t you, Swamp?”

  “General Swamp,” corrected the MudWing. “I’d have to ask my queen. We would, above all else, require a promise from the SeaWings to —”

  The spear whistled slightly as it flew through the air, giving Commander Tempest just enough time to raise her head and see it coming — but not enough time to get out of the way.

  The blade plunged into her heart. Her eyes widened as she stared down at the long wooden shaft piercing her chest.

  “Well, son of a starfish,” she said, and then toppled over onto the sand like a slow avalanche.

  Piranha, just stepping out of the tent, saw her fallen commander and shrieked with rage.

  “Tempest!” Gill cried, pushing past Piranha. “Tempest, no! Tempest!” He rolled her onto her back and pressed his claws against the blood spurting from the wound.

  It wouldn’t help. Deathbringer was too well trained; the spear had landed exactly where he’d aimed and the assassination was complete.

  That was only the first part of the plan, though.

  “Search the trees!” Piranha roared. “Find who did this!” The SeaWing soldiers leaped from the water and swarmed up the beach.

  Deathbringer drew his wings closer and froze, a shadow among shadows in the upper branches of a tree, concealed by several large birds’ nests, a wild structure of branches constructed by monkeys, and a giant spiderweb. He could hear dragons thrashing through the bushes below him.

  Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t … move … a muscle …

  “There’s a note,” said one of the SandWings, spotting the leaf that was wedged into the end of the spear. She tugged it loose and spread it on the sand beside Gill, but he was leaning against Tempest’s side and his shoulders were shaking with sobs.

  Stop feeling guilty, Deathbringer ordered himself. You’re an assassin. This is what you do. You followed orders. It’s for a greater cause.

  Would be nice to know what that greater cause is, though.

  Blister snatched the note out of her soldier’s talons and scanned it rapidly.

  THIS IS WHAT WE THINK ABOUT YOUR SECRET DEAL WITH BLISTER. STAY IN THE WATER WHERE YOU BELONG! THE COAST OF THE MUD KINGDOM IS OURS!

  For an anxious moment, Deathbringer thought that Blister might set the note on fire, but Piranha seized it first.

  “What?” she sputtered, staring at the words on the leaf. She whirled to stare at the weapon. “That’s a MudWing spear! One of your dragons did this!” She stabbed a claw at General Swamp.

  “Why would we do that?” he shouted. He grabbed the note from her and read it. “What secret deal? WHAT SECRET DEAL?”

  “There is no secret deal,” Blister said. “Someone is trying to break up this alliance, obviously.”

  Oooooh, Deathbringer thought, impressed with her calm.

  “Have you promised the SeaWings part of our land?” General Swamp roared.

  “Did you have our commander killed to stop us from getting it?” Piranha snarled back.

  “AHA!” he bellowed. “You ADMIT IT!”

  “We don’t want your stupid land!” Piranha shrieked. “But we’re certainly going to take it now!”

  Gill looked up, his face streaked with tears. “Wait,” he said. “Wait, let’s — nobody say anything we might regret — we should —”

  “We found these two in the trees up there,” called a SeaWing soldier. He and three others pushed two confused MudWings out onto the beach, passing right below Deathbringer’s perch. “Exactly where the spear came from.”

  “We didn’t do that!” protested one of the brown dragons. “We don’t know anything about it!”

  “So someone else snuck past you and did it? And you’re the worst guards in the Bay of a Thousand Scales, is that what you’re admitting?” Piranha barked.

  “Listen, wet nose,” the guard snapped back, “you don’t know anything about guarding on land, so take your sanctimonious —”

  “I demand that these murderers be executed!” Piranha roared.

  “Piranha!” Gill tried to protest.

  “It wasn’t a MudWing!” General Swamp roared back. “It was probably her!” He jabbed one claw at Blister. “She never liked Tempest! When you weren’t here, she was always complaining about how loud and smelly she was or how everyone always worshipped her like pathetic big-eyed manatees!”

  “That’s rather inaccurate,” Blister protested, raising her voice slightly. “I’ve never compared anyone to a manatee in my life.”

  Piranha whirled toward Blister, lashing her tail furiously. “Kill these MudWing assassins right now, or your alliance with the SeaWings is over.”

  “Touch one scale on their heads and you lose the MudWings forever,” hissed General Swamp.

  They both glared at Blister. An eerie stillness had fallen over the SandWing; her nostrils flared as if she could smell the treachery in the air.

  “SandWings,” she said in her cold, hard voice. “Search the island. Thoroughly. Turn over every log; climb every tree; wade into every pool. Find the dragon who did this. It will be a SkyWing, or an IceWing, or one of my sisters’ SandWings — any SandWing who doesn’t belong here. When you find that dragon, bring it to me, and I will kill it, and then we can move on from this foolish distraction.”

  The SandWing soldiers fanned out immediately, moving with such precision that Deathbringer wondered whether they’d done this kind of search before. He could imagine that Blister was paranoid enough to command something like this regularly.

  “And if you find no one?” General Swamp growled.

  “Then,” Blister said, “it must have been one of your MudWings, don’t you agree?”

  “I do not,” he snapped.

  “What are we going to do without her?” Gill said mournfully. He folded Tempest’s wings in gently and closed her eyes.

  “She’s only one dragon,” said Blister. “We’ll still win the war. Bring me Queen Coral and I’ll explain how.”

  Gill didn’t answer. Silence fell over the small group on the beach.

  Deathbringer had never been so still for so long. The shadows lengthened, stretching toward night, as SandWings tore through the bushes below him. One even climbed his tree, peering horribly intently at Deathbringer’s frozen outline, but when one of her wings got caught in the spiderweb she started cursing and climbed down again.

  In the gray twilight, Blister’s soldiers began to gather on the edge of the lagoon in front of her, reporting one after another that the island was empty of enemy dragons.

  The last pair of soldiers that came in bowed deeply, and then one of them said, “We found someone.”

  Blister tensed, her tail poised as though she could cut the air around her. “What did you do with them?”

  They exchanged a glance. “It’s not what you think, Your Majesty,” said one. “It can’t be the assassin you’re looking for. This one’s a NightWing, and she’s been hit by lightning, and she’s unconscious.”

  “Half dead, I’d say,” agreed the other soldier.


  Stupid stupid stupid. Deathbringer wanted to rip off his own ears. He should have gone back and hidden her better before carrying out this plan. He should have known Blister would search the island so carefully. I was so wrapped up in the mission, I completely forgot about protecting Quickstrike.

  “Could someone have been with her?” Blister asked.

  “Doubt it,” one of the soldiers answered. “Didn’t see any other talonprints around her. Looks like she got hit, crashed on the beach, pulled herself to shelter, and lost consciousness. Probably in that storm a couple nights back.”

  “A NightWing, out here,” Blister mused. “How curious. Did you try waking her up?”

  “Yeah — yes, Your Majesty — but I doubt she’ll ever wake up again. Barely breathing at all, you know?”

  “Fine,” Blister snapped. “This is clearly irrelevant. Make her completely dead and then come back.”

  They nodded and flew away.

  Deathbringer’s life was falling through his talons.

  Go after them! his heart screamed. Stop them! You can kill them easily! Save her!

  But then my cover would be blown. I could never get her out of here without being caught. They’d know I was the one who assassinated Commander Tempest; they’d know I’m not a rogue NightWing acting crazy. They’d kill Quickstrike anyway. They’d kill me, they’d all swear vengeance on the NightWings, and their alliance would be stronger than ever.

  All of this would be for nothing.

  Silent tears slid down his snout, but he kept his position.

  He did not move.

  He followed orders.

  But this will never happen again, he vowed. If I ever find someone else to care about, I will not let my mission come first. I will break any order. I’ll endanger my own tribe if I have to.

  I will make up for this somehow. Someday.

  The good news was, a NightWing messenger was waiting in the agreed-upon spot at the exact agreed-upon time, midnight, one month after Quickstrike and Deathbringer had left the kingdom.

  The bad news was, it was Morrowseer.

  Well, Deathbringer thought, here goes nothing.

  “Hello there,” he said, landing beside the huge black dragon.