The Fifth Moon’s Dragon Read online

  The Fifth Moon’s Dragon

  Book Four of the Fifth Moon’s Tales

  Monica La Porta

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2017 by Monica La Porta

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  * * *

  To keep up to date with Monica’s new releases and promotions click here or scan the QR code with your smartphone or mobile device.

  * * *

  To Roberto.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  A long whistle resonated in the morning quiet, commanding Dragon’s immediate attention as he flew over the Green Valley. He automatically ducked and steered Carellian to the right a moment before an arrow flew past his ear, missing him by a hairbreadth. Instead, the long dart hit his draglet’s head before hurtling into the chasm below.

  The arrow prickled Carellian’s thick skin, irritating the temperamental draglet, who jerked abruptly to the side with a loud whinny.

  Thrown from his seat, Dragon reached for the reins, his fingers grasping the leather and missing. A blaspheme curse escaped his mouth as high winds slapped his hand further away, preventing him from catching the flying straps.

  At the last moment, he gave a wild kick in the air, hooked his left boot in the leather straps of the draglet’s harness. Although the maneuver worked, saving his life, it also left him dangling upside down. The hazardous position gave him an interesting view of the rugged landscape of the Rocky Domes that rose toward the sky, like megalithic, oblong eggs emerging from the Green River below. One of the white and pink granite walls grew dangerously close as Carellian flew flush to the surface.

  Dragon pushed his head up, exercising his tight abdominals and climbing back on his draglet. “I’m getting too old for these shenanigans.” He sat in between the animal’s large shoulder blades. Grabbing the leather reins, he patted the feathery, blue fur in between Carellian’s spine ridges. “Steady, boy.” His voice and firm touch had the desired effect to soothe the draglet.

  “Let’s go back to the convoy.” With a gentle tug, Dragon steered Carellian away from the Rocky Dome.

  Dragon insisted they fly several kilometers behind the rest of the party, which was carrying the royal palanquin and his two betrotheds to Sol Palace. After a year on Lupine and away from his court, he needed the respite of a few hours alone to gather his thoughts. Valerian, his lieutenant, first cousin and best friend, protested his decision. As the supreme leader of the planet, threats on Dragon’s person and the occasional assassination plot were expected, but recently it looked like it was open season on the monarch. Valerian’s protests fell on deaf ears, though. Dragon was the High Lord and his word was the law on Solaria.

  A nagging suspicion that the Front Pro Humanity commissioned the latest attacks against him filled Dragon’s thoughts. Maybe he should listen to Valerian in the future.

  His majestic steed lowered his wings to catch a lateral thermal and spiraled down toward the valley below.

  A shadow darkened one of the clouds drifting slowly under Carellian, and a moment later, a shiny glint caught Dragon’s attention. His thigh automatically pressed against his draglet’s powerful flank, veering the steed toward the disturbance.

  The javelin impaled his shoulder before he ever saw it coming.

  2

  An upward breeze engulfed Jade’s hood, caressing her mask sitting on her high cheekbones. The scent of her prey reached her nostrils. She blinked once and steadied her breathing.

  Unhurriedly, Jade took her aim. Her clockwork wings drew backward as she propelled her arm forward, releasing a second javelin.

  She used arrows to destabilize her prey, but preferred javelins to make the kill. They were her weapon of choice, her distinctive mark. It took an entirely different set of skills to master the deadly art of the javelin, but when her throw aimed true, Jade was glad for the long and harrowing years spent training as a Master Assassin. Not that she ever had a choice in becoming a member of the infamous mercenary association. But she did have a choice in becoming the best assassin she could be.

  The javelin gracefully soared high in the sky before it curved in a perfect arc, directing its poisonous end toward the target’s heart. The black amaranthine toxin would slow the beating muscle, giving her time to finish her mission.

  Killing a dragon shifter took lots of preparation and nerves of steel. Only a few assassins possessed what was needed to successfully complete such a mission, but killing the Solarian High Lord required a commitment to the cause only Jade had.

  The Assassin Academy, otherwise known simply as the Academy, had fixed her broken body when she first arrived at the steps of the white palace on Celestia, sold by her family for their next meal. The Academy infused her with nanites that had knitted her back together and prolonged her life expectancy beyond the mortal scope. She could still be killed, but her aging had been slowed considerably, and she could live in the prime of her youth as long as shifters did.

  A shattering roar broke the eerie silence. The prey’s hand snapped forward, grabbing the javelin a mere moment before the black, sharp point would perforate clothes and flesh, injecting the black amaranthine into the man’s chest.

  Jade took a calming breath, centering her thoughts on the task ahead.

  Plans change. Assassins adapt.

  Once again, she was the killer built to slaughter the Academy’s targets. One steady hand reached for her belt, fingers grabbing the head of the third javelin, her last one. Deftly, with the ease of a lifetime of practice, her thumb and index finger snapped the leather hoop and freed her weapon. She commanded her mechanical wings to open wide to stabilize her and prepared to execute the dragon shifter.

  Her body tensed in anticipation. A smile tugged at her lips, a remnant of her humanity she couldn’t suppress. Her shoulder rotated as her arm moved up, muscles flexing and extending. Like a missile, her weapon of choice shone in the morning light, catching Coral’s pink rays. The moment the javelin left her hold, Jade experienced a feeling akin to physical release.

  Her lips parted as she heard the familiar hissing of the heavy spear cut through the air. Next, her prey would gasp and fall from his mount. Jade would finish him with her dagger before he reached the ground a mile below. She would give him the respectful death a dragon shifter deserved, still flying.

  Her eyes locked with the
man’s. Her ritual. Before every killing, she would honor her victims by acknowledging them as her peers.

  His gaze didn’t betray any fear. Atop his draglet, he sat with an elegant poise, back straight and long, blond locks streaming away from his face. A handsome face free from pain and that kept an uncanny composure as if he weren’t injured. Although by now, the first javelin had rooted itself deeply inside his shoulder, and the poison must have already spread through his system.

  Eyes the color of the clearest sky stared into hers before, at the last moment, he moved out of the spear’s trajectory.

  A powerful emotion possessed Jade as she watched her last javelin miss its target and spiral down, useless. Jade recognized the feeling as rage, but deep inside, an inexplicable sense of relief pulsed, trying to emerge. She pushed the conflicting thoughts away, her body already in pursuit.

  Plans change. Assassins adapt.

  She pulsed her wings forward, catching a thermal. The wind propelled her closer to her prey.

  Both man and draglet hovered as a single entity, unmoving, as if waiting for her.

  3

  Dragon estimated that he could still use half of his body to save his hide.

  He had precious little time. Soon, the paralysis would spread to his other side, and he would be at the mercy of the assassin.

  Whoever had hired the highly-paid mercenary wanted to be sure that Dragon would die. Good to know that a High Lord was still considered hard to kill.

  With his eyes wide open, he focused on the winged figure flying toward him, gaining speed as the clockwork gears in those huge wings spun and whirred. His hastily-hatched plan wouldn’t work if he moved too quickly.

  Flying closer to one of the Rocky Domes, he forced his assailant to follow him. Very few people in Solaria knew the rugged territory that surrounded the High Lord’s enclosure like Dragon did. And only the High Lord’s Army was cleared to fly around his property.

  Numbness overtook Dragon, but he commanded his back to remain straight, his hands tightly holding on Carellian’s reins. His draglet sensed Dragon’s physical distress and reared his long neck, hissing at the incoming assassin.

  “Easy, boy.” Dragon pressed his hand against the soft feathers at the base of Carellian’s neck. His steed heeded his command, lowering his head, although the low growl rumbling under Dragon’s seat told him his draglet wasn’t happy about having to obey.

  Only spans away now, the assassin’s hand reached for the dagger sheathed in the belt underneath the long, white leather coat. Framed by a white mask, black, shiny eyes probed into Dragon’s, as if the mercenary wanted to take the true measure of his opponent.

  Dragon sensed respect in the stranger’s unwavering stance and nodded. A flash of recognition flared in those expressive eyes, and the man tilted his head ever so slightly in response.

  The moment the assassin’s hand moved, Dragon’s thighs tightened against Carellian’s flanks, and the draglet veered into the crevasse halving the Rocky Dome aptly named Cracked. He spurred his steed deeper inside the long vertical shaft, guiding him with a steady hand through the narrowing granite corridor. Only an expert rider would attempt the descent into Cracked Cave at the bottom of the rocky dome. His army routinely trained the maneuver needed to enter and exit the hidden cave unscathed, but his pursuer wouldn’t have the same advantage.

  Loudly whirring, the clockwork wings halted. For a moment, the only sound breaking the silence was the wind channeling inside the fissure.

  Before Dragon could exult, the mechanical whooshing resumed. The sound came directly from behind, but it soon moved higher. The shadow of lacy wings covered Carellian’s head. The shiny glint of the dagger reflected on the rock wall, creating a rainbow that illuminated the silver and black surface. With his dwindling strength, Dragon threw his weight to the side, his head dodging the incoming wall by a hairbreadth.

  Carellian neighed when his wing was dragged along the rock, and Dragon tried to compensate by plunging both of them head first into the chasm. Soon they spiraled, but not out of control. The evasive maneuver required nerves of steel and complete mastery of flying acrobatics, but Dragon had trained his entire life for moments like the present.

  The assassin barely hesitated before folding the already shortened wings and following Dragon into the abyss.

  4

  Jade’s heart pumped like a steamboat against her ribcage. Blood thrummed against her ears, and she couldn’t hear anything besides her body rejoicing in the hunt.

  Never before had she encountered an opponent as worthy as the dragon shifter. The man evaded her attacks with an elegance she rarely saw outside of the training holo-vids at the Sanctuary.

  With her wings wrapped around her body, she descended into the vertical shaft, torpedoing her way down like a missile, gaining speed until she could barely keep her eyes open. All the while, the shifter kept his draglet on a spiraling course, without smashing his body or any part of his steed against the rugged walls. The skills required to maintain that particular flying formation for any amount of time longer than a minute spoke of a superior man. Especially doing so while fighting off paralysis. It would seem that the High Lord of Solaria deserved his inherited seat.

  There would be much honor in killing such a formidable opponent. She would always remember him.

  A lateral gust of wind pushed Jade against the rock. The landscape changed, and where two solid, vertical walls had faced each other until a few seconds ago, now openings dotted the surface. While she kept her focus on her prey, a brief glance to the side revealed ledges carved into the rock, opening into chambers. High winds exited from those cavities, tossing her around. Only the mechanical shield provided by her folded wings saved Jade’s chest from being smashed against a jutting rock. She hit hard enough to bruise her ribs though, and barely managed to move her hands out of the way before she crushed them.

  The rider atop the draglet took advantage of her momentary weakness and abruptly took a right turn, disappearing from sight. The maneuver was executed with such precision and speed that had she blinked, she would have lost him. As it was, she barely caught the flat, triangular end of the draglet’s long tail snaking around the entrance to one of those chambers.

  After clearing her mind from any physical pain her body experienced, she unfolded her wings as much as the environment allowed to halt her free falling. She pivoted her legs toward the ledge and ignored the pain coursing through her chest. Her boots touched the hard surface as she used gravity to stop her wings, and followed her recalcitrant prey into the bowel of a windy chamber.

  When pursuing a draglet, flying would be the wisest choice, but the cave was dark, and the squalls howled, effectively blinding two of her senses.

  Jade’s respect for the High Lord grew another notch. Surely, the poison contained in the tip of the first javelin had taken by now, but he was still fighting for his life. How much of his body could he still command? Hell and damnation. The man even had enough presence of mind left to effectively force her to follow him into a dark cave where she couldn’t use her wings.

  A lesser mercenary would have turned on her heels and left. The cobalt “A” embroidered on the hood of her cloak marked her as the most lethal assassin in all the Fifth Moon System. Assassins always returned to the Sanctuary victorious. Otherwise, they would not return at all. Failure wasn’t an option.

  When her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming from the mouth of the cave, she centered her senses on the vibrations under her feet.

  Tall columns of rock divided the enormous chamber, but a skilled driver like the dragon shifter would be able to zigzag through the obstacles. While he mounted a sturdy draglet, Jade was well aware that her clockwork wings would be torn by the winds lashing out from around the corners. She pulled a lever on her corset, freeing the wings’ harness, but softened the fall of the clockwork gear with her hands, lest the sound warn the shifter of her position.

  Then she stood still, waiting for him to make a mo
ve.

  A subtle vibration resonated under the leather soles of her boots. She turned and a large hand circled her throat from behind.

  5

  Dragon had at most a minute or two left before he would collapse.

  His fingers pressed on soft skin as he dragged the assassin with him deeper into the darkness. Without warning, the man angled his body, delivering a palm strike to Dragon’s solar plexus.

  “Stop—” Dragon cursed when a second strike hit the spot. Twice, his heart had received the full impact of the infamous Lotus Blow, an assassin’s signature hit that would have killed a mortal. He staggered on his feet, but didn’t let go of the man, and struck him in the head with his free hand.

  Judging from his slender neck, the assassin was but a boy. Encompassing the small throat with his hand, Dragon applied enough pressure to cut off his opponent’s oxygen supply. It would have taken so little of his strength to snap the delicate bones and snuff out the life of his pursuer. But there was no honor in killing children, even skilled ones like the assassin, who went limp against him.

  When Dragon relaxed his hold, the man’s hand jerked back, dagger at the ready. The assassin had feigned helplessness all along, giving Dragon a false sense of physical superiority as he patiently prepared for the final strike.