The Dragon Hunters by Christian Warren Freed Page B

the room. She had a clear view of everyone coming and going out both the front and kitchen doors. Most of her weapons were locked in her room, but she never went anywhere without Lady Killer. The slender dagger had one jewel encrusted in the pommel: an amethyst. She’d never seen a jewel that shade of purple before. Kialla won the dagger from a drunk in a card game years ago. He’d tried to reclaim it later that night. She left him lying face down in an alley drowning in his own blood. Lady Killer never left her side.
    Her eyes flashed as they paused on a familiar face. Kialla forced herself to remain calm as the giant seemed to pick her out of the crowd deliberately.
    “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to show up,” she said with a tight, utterly false smile.
    Grelic took a seat opposite of her and motioned for the barmaid.
    “Oh no you don’t,” Kialla warned. “I’m not going down with you when Rentor’s men come to take you away.”
    He groaned. “You too? Can’t a man enjoy one drink in peace without the rest of the world coming down on his head? One drink! Damnation!”
    “The way you drink? Doubtful,” Kialla said and couldn’t help but giggle. Grelic still had a way of making her laugh, even after all their years knowing each other. She was young enough to be his daughter and just as nasty. “Why are you here? Last I heard you were going to be hanged.”
    “That was the plan. They let me go on good behavior.”
    She braced for the hammer strike.
    “I need your help, Kialla.”
    Bam! There it was.
    Slowly, she swung her legs down off of the table and sat up. “Why don’t you just stop by to say hello?”
    “Too many words. By the time we finish with pleasantries I’d already know your answer. My way gets to the point quicker.”
    She shook her head in mock disbelief. “Flattery, Grelic. One day you’ll learn how to talk to a lady.”
    He smiled. There’d been plenty of women in his life but the thought of having a committed relationship was too restrictive. Confining. He revolted at the thought of abandoning his freedoms for anyone. Men like him weren’t meant to sire children and live ordinary lives. Born while his father was away at war, Grelic was meant to die with sword in hand.
    Grelic waggled an accusatory finger. “Don’t sweet talk me, lass. I’ve seen you use your tongue as sharp as a blade. It may work on most men but not this one. Bat your eyes or flick your hair, it won’t work on me.”
    They both laughed a little. Grelic gave the barmaid a playful slap on her rump after she set his drink down. She offered a sly, knowing look and sauntered off. He never would have done it if he didn’t already know her.
    “What do you need me for?” Kialla asked. Odd, but she found herself almost jealous.
    He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining his deal with Rentor and what it might potentially mean to the future of all involved. She was skeptical towards anything dealing with the king. Rentor wasn’t a bad man but he didn’t seem the sort to forgive grudges. Still, his people loved him, which was more than could be said about people like her and Grelic. Warriors without a war. They were of the sort most folk frowned down on when peace reigned.
    “It doesn’t exactly sound like much fun,” she said when he finished. “Personally I’d rather sit here and enjoy the view. Who are we trying not to fight again?”
    “I’m sure we’ll find a willing opponent,” he replied. “We always do.”
    “What happens if we take on more than we can handle?”
    “When has that ever happened?”
    Her smile was brief. “More times than I care to remember. If I do this, and I’m not saying I will, what difference will it make to the future? Wars are one thing. I don’t feel the need to be a hero and I don’t want to be one. All I want is to make my way through the world unnoticed until death comes to claim me. Can you offer me that?”
    “Sometimes we don’t get the