Read Online The Dragon Engine by Andy Remic - Free Book Online Page B

door.
    â€œWhat have you done, you monster?” His words were distorted by his broken nose and, no doubt, several broken teeth.
    â€œEr, me?” Beetrax cracked his knuckles and moved forward, kneeling behind the stricken man. “What have I fucking done? I was minding my own business, as it always is. And you were out to impress your horse-faced woman, so you tried to pick a fight with me, and then brought in your heavies to back you up when things weren’t going your way. Spoilt little rich prick, you should have stayed up in the hills.”
    â€œThey… they weren’t my heavies…”
    â€œWhat were they, then? Your fucking sisters? Or just fucking your sisters?”
    â€œThey were my bodyguards…”
    Beetrax frowned. That didn’t sound good. That didn’t sound good at all. “Why would a little squirt of horse spunk like you need bodyguards?”
    â€œBecause I am Lord Daron. Lord Daron. Great nephew to King Yoon of Vagandrak!”
    Beetrax considered this for a while, then rocked back on his heels. “Hmm,” he said, his eyes fixed on the broken men before him.
    â€œYou must let me go immediately, you vagabond! Yoon will see you swing high for this!”
    â€œVagabond, is it?” Beetrax crawled close, so that his mouth was only a thumb’s breadth from Daron’s own, as if they were lovers about to kiss. “You came to me looking for a fight, great nephew of King Yoon, and I fucking gave you one, so I did. The question you need to ask yourself now, is this: you’re so busy threatening me with a hanging, you are not focussing on your immediate situation. What motivation have I got to keep you alive? If I cut all your throats, you can’t sing to the City Watch. But if you give me your word, on your mother’s deathbed, that you will remain silent – I may just leave you tied up awhile. It’s your choice, Lord Daron. Shall I go get my axe, or no?”
    Daron was trembling, and foam speckled his lips. His eyes were wide as pig-roast platters. He seemed to consider his options, although Beetrax wondered what he really had to consider.
    Eventually, the man breathed, “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
    â€œGood lad!” boomed Beetrax, rocking back on his heels and standing. He wiggled his feet. “Damn but that gave me some cramp. Now listen, lad, I’ll leave you three here tonight, then let you go in the morning. No hollering, like. My room’s just up there,” he pointed, “and I’ll hear you. Be here quicker than you can say ‘axe blade decapitation’. You got that, little Lord Daron?”
    â€œYes,” he whispered.
    â€œAnd one last thing.”
    â€œYes?” Eyes suddenly hopeful.
    â€œI don’t like being attacked with blades,” said Beetrax, without a glimmer of compassion, and kicked Daron in the face, watching him slump down once more into bloody unconsciousness.
----
    B eetrax slept well . Probably down to the extra eight flagons of ale he drank after tying up his attackers. Well, it was thirsty work, wasn’t it? All that violence?
    As a late winter dawn broke through the cracks in the shutters, Beetrax rolled from his crumpled sheets and pulled on his trews and boots. Then he sat there for a moment. Some fleeting idea teased him, something which had seemed so solid in sleep, and yet now danced away like dragon smoke. What was it? Something about threads. String. No, loose ends. But… what loose end?
    Beetrax shrugged, and heard the stamping of hooves in the courtyard. He threw open his shutters and beamed down at Dake and Jonti. “Glad you could join me!” he boomed, voice practically cracking the ice on the puddles.
    â€œYou’re late,” snapped Dake. “You’d be late to your own bloody funeral.”
    â€œIt’s just a matter of a few moments. I am packed and ready to go. Any word from the