“There’ll be another on the roof,” Tyrez theorized. Although Taran outranked him, their father had given Tyrez lead on this. Mostly because he didn’t know Taran would tag along.
That was because the Emperor wouldn’t have approved of his heir running around a black market, risking his valuable hide.
Regardless, his elder brother waited for Tyrez’s assessment. “You take the back entrance. Razir can go in the front. I’ll handle the roof.”
Any self-respecting Dragon would go high in a crisis. Tyrez was taking the hot spot.
As expected, Taran objected. “No. I’ll take the roof.”
“You aren’t even supposed to be here,” Tyrez pointed out with no small amount of patience. “Father will have a fit if anything happens to you.”
Taran was the eldest brother, and as such, was heir to the Emperor’s throne. He was one of nine sons, three of whom were offspring of the Matriarch along with two daughters.
The other six males were all out of different females. To some extent, succession was a matter of the Emperor’s choice, so long as he chose wisely. In Taran’s youth, his status hadn’t resulted in any special treatment. But the Emperor’s health was failing, and Taran had increasingly been forced to step in to support his father.
As a Legion member, Taran loved to be involved in the action. But he was no longer permitted to take the risk unless he slipped by his bodyguards and accompanied his brothers on a mission. Tyrez had neither the heart, nor the authority, to stop him. There was no way, however, that he was going to let his brother take any dangerous chances.
Taran glared at him, his blue eyes sparking fire. Tyrez remained unmoved.
“You aren’t Emperor, yet, brother. The rear exit is yours. And no fire. Jacques’s informant was pretty sure there are slaves held in the basement.”
Taran growled, but when Tyrez held his stance and his gaze, he eventually offered a single, terse nod.
“Very well. But being the heir sucks, as your Sabre friend would say.”
“Remember, we are taking prisoners. We aren’t just staging a raid, we need information.”
Both brothers looked grim. Taking Dragon prisoners would not be easy. They were difficult to restrain and would fight hard for their freedom. Tyrez was hoping they might find some nonDragon assistants that would prove more malleable to being squeezed, but it wasn’t likely. Dragon gangs tended to be somewhat snobby about working with other species.
They trusted no one but their own.
Fortunately, the Legion Dragons had an edge. Dragons not only needed crystal dust to stay healthy but also while shifting. With only low levels, males were lucky to achieve a well-formed Dragon weighing in at about four thousand pounds. But to achieve full Dragon status required much more dust.
For the Legion Dragons, it wasn’t a concern. They had access to as many crystals as they wished. The energy not only enabled size after the transformation but also fed into their ability to fly—to take a huge form and get it airborne. Gryphons, who had developed in the same realm as Dragons, didn’t change shape, but they also tapped into the crystal dust in their bodies in order to take to the sky.
But for these outlier colonies, the dust was a commodity. Very few could afford to consume large amounts.
The result wasn’t just smaller size, but flight ability and strength were also compromised. Even their scales were not as thick as a fully supplemented Dragon’s. Against many opponents, not a big deal. Against another Dragon was different.
It wouldn’t be easy, but they should be able to take them down.
The three brothers split up as they moved through the market, following Taran’s lead. The market stalls were arranged haphazardly, the aisles between them zigged and zagged without any order. Even with the brothers moving independently of each other, currents of unease ran through the locals. Vendors looked up as they passed. Customers drifted away to other areas.
There was no mistaking stalking predators, especially three as large and intense as Legion Dragons. Stealth wasn’t really their shtick. Once they targeted someone, there was little chance for escape.
Taran’s hooded face turned toward Tyrez, and he nodded once before he split off down an alley. Razir paused at a booth near the front entrance of an older, three-story stone building.
Tyrez kept moving. Aware that he was being watched, he passed right on by the building’s far side. He gained as much distance as he could before he slipped into the shadows of an alley farther down the block.
Taran would be in position by now. Razir was pretending to shop, but ready to go. They awaited Tyrez’s signal through their ear comms. It was tricky to keep the devices in place during transformations, but possible due to the degree of control the Dragons had over scale formation.
Tyrez sprouted his talons from his fingers and toes. The crystal dust in his blood created something hard enough to penetrate steel, if he chose to do so.
Stone was no issue at all. It took less than ten seconds for him to climb four stories.
Once on the roof, he examined the buildings. Their target was one of the taller structures in this neighborhood. Skyscrapers weren’t Riyanic’s thing—the one Tyrez stood upon was a story higher than the target, enabling him to scan the roof from several buildings over.
The rogue Dragon sentry—a member of the local gang—was clearly visible. Instead of hiding in the shadows, he patrolled the flattened roof’s perimeter, staring down at the market below. After a few moments of observation, Tyrez concluded there was another on the other side of the roof access, standing deeper in the darkness.
