Dragon Tame - Ophelia Silk Page 0,1

my funeral pyre.

As I near the cliffs, the lush, evergreen forest clears. The mountain towers above me, a mighty creature of grey stone, brush and ice, fog pouring over its slopes. Katane’s jagged entrance sits at its base. The teeth-like spires that jut from its ceiling hint all too well at the jaws that wrecked Lundr on the day the false god took residence in it, fifteen years ago. I was seven then. The screams no longer haunt my nightmares.

In two weeks, on the day the season officially shifts from fall to winter, the false god of the caves of Katane will emerge and demand his sacrifice in exchange for keeping the dragons at bay. For the moment though, his ice beasts must be lurking in the depths of the caverns.

I glance behind me, down the forested slopes to Lundr. The wooden houses huddle together amidst barren farmland, creeping up to a harbor that’s far too mighty for the few small fishing vessels that bob beside it. From here, the place looks deserted. But I know the people are simply hiding, hoping the upcoming day of sacrifice will pass without retribution.

Giving my axe a good twirl, I set my lips in a smirk. I will be the retribution this year. I’ll redeem my mother’s memory and make a name for myself.

“I am Katla,” I speak out loud, staking my name upon the world, “daughter of Haakon the mighty and Freyja the kind, and I will kill you, false god, before my cowardly people can grant you another sacrifice.”

Little do I know, what I should be chanting is: I am Katla, idiot of all idiots, and, by Odin, I know better than to release any dragons today.

CHAPTER TWO

—

This is Sharp Edge the Back Biter

BESIDE THE YEARLY sacrifices, I doubt any living person has been in these caves since my mother’s death. My feet tap eerily against the stone floor as my passageway twists deeper into the mountain. Just before I move to light my torch, a dim glow arises at the other end of the tunnel.

I prepare Sharpie, but as I near the luminance, I come across, not a fire, but a faint, mystical radiance. It emanates from the twisting veins of pastel rainbow that run through the walls, much like the Jarl’s stone seat. The cavern branches in three different directions. I choose the middle path at random, then the middle path again when it splits once more.

Maybe Magni was right about my coming fate, but in a different way. Maybe the false god will kill me with a labyrinth. There are worse ways to die—I could be trampled by pigs, or fall off the roof of the hall while drunk—but in the list of things most likely to earn me a seat at Odin’s table, death by endless walking is much too low for my tastes.

The scrape of claw on stone lifts my spirits. The snuffled inhale of a large predator follows it. I pursue the sound, each step as silent as possible. I don’t doubt myself for a moment. Because I can’t. Because this is the path I chose.

When I see them, I know instantly that I should have doubted. I should have listened to Magni. I should have not done this alone.

The false god’s beasts crowd the floor of the chamber beyond, three dozen of them in various stages of waking. Their forms resembles a wolves, if wolves were the size of large horses with pairs of twisting horns bursting from their heads and pelts that gleam with pale iridescences as they move. A false god I can kill. Such a huge pack of mega-wolves who are probably mega-hungry from sleeping for three seasons? I can’t kill them, not all at once. I need to find someplace they’ll be forced at me one at a time.

As I step back, I hit a stray rock. It skids away, bouncing a few times before rolling to rest against one of the beast’s grey snouts. A growl rises from the creature. Forcing my legs to move, I dash for more defensible ground, choosing the left pathway this time.

The rasp of the beast’s chasing claws covers every other sound, pursuing me through wide chambers and into increasingly smaller tunnels. They pile in behind me, two at a time, saliva dripping from their gleaming white teeth. I need the path to tighten just a little more… just a little more.

Instead, the damn thing ends. I curse ten different gods, but as I