Valley of Fire

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Yet, after 20 years of breathing the coal tinged air of our village, I was one of few who had actual seen one with their own two eyes.

Sure, it was a fleeting glimpse as one dove behind the mountains that bordered the kingdom to our north; but I had seen one, and since then, had grown a desire to reach out and brush a hand across their scaly wings before taking off into the sky on one.

Many liked to believe that these creatures were merely folklore, fabled stories of scaled creatures with wings that spanned buildings and destroyed entire communities with a single breath of scorched flames. But They actually existed, and even if you had never seen one you could hear the echoed rumble of their call carried faintly throughout the valley on a wisp of wind from the north.

I skirted, unnoticed, through the shadows behind a group of drunken voyagers as they carried on about where to find these fabled beasts and placed bets on who could tame the wild animals at the royals command.

*Our praised royals* I think with a silent snort, continuing along the street to the pub. Prince Rierdan, the conceited heir of a selfish king who has a never ending bequest of men to lay their lives down for his obsession of commandeering the dragons; thinking he can utilize them as weapons to over throw the kingdoms of further countries for his own gain.

*The fool*

I shake my head while I push the heavy door in, pulling down the hood further, though magick already altered my appearance before this expedition, I rarely go out scavenging in my regular form; too risky to be caught that way.

Its only just past dusk as I enter and I glance around at the barmaids serving out large steins of beer and plates steaming with potatoes and meat while the wenches prowl for their future companion and continue onto the corner table. The pub is relatively full tonight and I shift slightly in the angled bench to ensure I can see the door and a majority of the pub from my post. Never leave your back or sides vulnerable; a lesson I learned the hard way years ago.

The bar maid drops off a glass of clear alcohol before a wench spots me, half shrouded in shadows, her hips swaying as she makes her way towards me. She slides her hand along the tables edge as she closes in.

“Looking for a tumble around in my bed later, love” she purrs leaning forward as she rests her palm on the wooden table between us. I tilt my head back to meet her eye letting the hood slip to my neck and she stands up slowly as my face is exposed to the light giving her a glimpse of my loose auburn curls and icy blue eyes. She gives me an apologetic look before I respond.

“Sorry, hun, I prefer the sword not the sheath, but I’d say you’ll have better luck over there” I nod to the opposite wall where a rambunctious group of men crowd around one of the bigger tables, playing a drinking game while laughing. The girl turns back to me with grin.

“Sorry, hard to tell in the shadows what’s going on under a cloak, I had to at least try”

“That’s the directive. No worries though, I get it, gotta make a livin’ somehow” I raise my glass in solidarity to her as she winks and turns toward the other table. I can’t judge her for her choice of profession, not all women can get by doing what I do.

I glance around the pub again with a sigh. I tap my nails on the table as the door opens and closes with patrons entering and leaving, none the one I’m waiting for. Truth be told, I’m an impatient bitch and he should have been here by now.

I throw a couple pieces of silver on the table pulling my hood back up just as the door flies open. Two companions, in what looks to be a heated conversation, stride purposefully towards the other corner table near the front window. I slowly lower back into the bench, watching them as they interact.

I can only see one as he leans forward to close the gap between them across the table, pieces of chestnut hair falling across his furrowed brow. The slight upturn of his nose and his tousled, yet kept, hair give him an appearance of higher class while the broad shoulders and muscular legs are definitely that of a workman and yet the rugged shadow across his jaw, leather vest under his cloak and heavy boots give him an air of danger.

In all honesty, he was surprisingly attractive to be companion to the other man, the one whom I was really here for. I didn’t need to see him to know exactly what he looked like. Short clipped fiery hair lay beneath his hood, matching perfectly to the overgrowth of hair that covered a face marred with a jagged scar that sliced fully across the left side, barely missing his eye.

For 35 nights I have observed his patterns and schedule, watching and waiting for the opportune moment and yet tonight, of all nights, he decided to come with someone else.

This changed everything.

I hadn’t anticipated how to handle an additional mark, and given their in-depth conversation, they came here together instead of meeting up here. My mind was running with the different options available to me.

One, Separate them on their walk back and take him out in an alleyway.

Too risky, if I couldn’t get the other man to take the hint and go along without him it could get messy, two on one rarely worked out.

Two, follow the mark on his way to the toilet and take him out.

That could work, but then you run the risk of being seen on your way out afterwards.

A yell from a wench as a male slapped her behind at the table closest to me pulled me from my thoughts, I watched her tug him along up the stairs to the rooms above before I grinned to myself, why hadn’t I thought of that before?!

Sure it had certain unpleasant possibilities, like the inability to persuade him to let his guard down enough before going too far or the chance that he’d reject the offer entirely. Though I did still have options 1 and 2. I cringed at the thought of what I may have to do but like I said before, a girls got to make a livin somehow, right?