Page 62 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)

Oh.

That wasn’t me hallucinating. I scrambled to my feet and gaped as our tan menace was joined by four others: another tan, a very dark gray, a pale red, and a light blue.

I’d gone from meeting one dragon to five. Pity it didn’t look likely I’d live to discover a sixth. I flexed my fingers. I needed a damned weapon. I eyed the pile and ran. Couldn’t let myself be distracted. I needed that sword. I—

Stumbled as my fingers closed around the sword that suddenly flew at me from the pile. It hit my palm with a slap, and I gaped stupidly at it.

Good thing my body knew how to fight even with my mind distracted. The blue dragon came at me from the sky, clawed feet first. He dropped without a noise, and I instinctively swung the blade to knock him aside.

The screeching proved epic. You’d think it had never been hurt before.

I eyed my sword. My elekium sword. Smiled. I’d just found their weakness.

In battle, there were a few kinds of people. The runner who was hit by fear and bolts. The defensive, who hid behind things and tried not to take too many chances. And then there were the warriors, those who embraced fighting, who welcomed the adrenaline, who threw themselves into battle with a joyous cry. That would be the Westerners.

I was a fourth, lesser-known type. The smart and skillful assassinwho didn’t take credit despite the fact we often decided wars.

While the loud ones distracted the dragons, I went looking for the biggest one. The instigator. Get rid of the leader and often a group would falter or retreat.

The beast must have smelled me coming, because it suddenly exhaled not fire but a dust that had Droga choking and waving his hand.

It breathed poison? If I lived, I’d really have to study these creatures. I passed Konstantin, whose sword appeared to be making progress, if slowly. Perhaps his elekium blade wasn’t as refined as the one I carried.

His loss.

The tan dragon darted his head toward me, hissing. Its black orbs were like mirrors. I could see myself in them but not the sword oddly enough. The dragon didn’t even try to jerk out of the way, and the blade slashed across its chest.

Opened it right up.

It bled a bright blue, which was unexpected. The dragon appeared surprised, staring down at its gushing wound.

With a cry, it lifted up, raining down its blue blood. It hissed when it hit the ground. Probably not a good idea to touch it.

“Don’t touch its blood,” Konstantin yelled a moment too late. He parried a blow and grunted. For a second, his sword glowed. He pushed back the attack.

I eyed my sword. Why didn’t mine have a glowy thing happening?

I ran for his dragon, doing my best to time my leap, jumped too soon and pedaled in the air as my sword began to arc. It didn’t glow, but I had faith it would slice through that dragon like a hot knife and butter. Not a cold one because it would get stuck.

I hit the dragon, and my sword did sink in partway before it wedged, and since I held it, that meant I dangled. Then shook, as the dragon wasn’t happy.

Neither was I. I couldn’t let go because I would lose my sword. But at the same time, I had to get my blade free. I grumbled as I braced my feet on the dragon and pulled.

It bellowed and hit the ground, trying to squish me like a bug. I flipped, still holding my sword and, as I somersaulted, pulled again.

The blade slid free. As the dragon went to attack again, I held on with two hands for my swing. This time I went right through, and my blade did more than glow; it absorbed all light and became darkness itself until it emerged on the other side coated in a layer of blue goo.

The dragon hit the ground. Dead.

I grinned.

I’d just taken care of my first dragon. As I turned to see how the rest of the battle fared, the ground under my feet trembled.

I glanced down and saw the crack zigging past my toes.

Before I could think of throwing myself to safety, the edge of the cliff sheared off, carrying me with it.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN