Page 3 of Mountain of Dragons and Sacrifice

With a grinding groan, the double doors of the citadel swung open, seemingly of their own accord.

The head elder strode from the citadel, dressed in white robes with stripes of sacrificial purple along the hems of his sleeves. A matching purple sash wrapped from his right shoulder to his left hip.

The head elder halted next to the elder with the jar. He swept his arms out, taking in the crowd. “Tomorrow we will begin the olive harvest and bask in the joy of a fruitful season and the promise of prosperity for the year to come. But the prosperity of tomorrow is bought with the sacrifice we make today. Without this sacrifice, the monster of the mountain would sweep from his lair and destroy our olives. We would lose not just this year’s harvest but the harvest for years to come. Our city would die. We would die. We sacrifice today, so that our children and grandchildren can continue to enjoy the prosperity we have today.”

A good speech. One that sank dread deep into my toes.

The Day of Sacrifice was loathsome. It didn’t seem right to hand over a maiden every year to the monster. I’d lost Clarissa. I was at risk myself, and I wasn’t sacrificial enough to volunteer to be the sacrifice to save my people. Surely there had to be a better way.

But what other choice did our village have? If the dragon in the mountain destroyed our olives, generations of labor would be lost. Olive trees took years to regrow after devastation. Who knew if the olives would continue to have the same, magical property that made them the best in the land?

This was the price the dragon demanded. A maiden each year just before the harvest. If we gave that to him, then he didn’t destroy us.

But the cost…

I shivered, my stomach churning.

“Today the fates will choose who will bravely sacrifice herself for us and save us from the monster in the mountain.” The head elder reached into the jar, fishing around for a moment. He withdrew his hand, holding a round token.

He stared down at the token in his hand, lengthening the suspense that drew tight and painful through the plaza.

The girl next to me reached out and gripped my arm, shaking and still crying. I couldn’t even remember her name, but I patted her hand anyway.

Then the head elder’s gaze swept over the gathered girls. “The fates have chosen Nessa, daughter of Thales.”

Distantly, I heard a scream. My mama’s cry. The girl’s hand was ripped from my arm as new unyielding fingers pressed far too hard, yanking me away. The citadel guards hauled me forward, never pausing, even as I stumbled on the top step.

I cast a glance over my shoulder. Bapi struggled against four citadel guards, who held him back. Mama sobbed in the arms of several of the other village women.

Then I was dragged inside the citadel, and the heavy doors thunked shut behind me.

Chapter Two

Of course I was chosen. You already knew that.

We’ll just skip over the rigmarole of being prepared as the sacrifice. The elders’ wives stripped me of my clothes, then chivvied me off to the sacred pool. Needless to say, I was pampered and perfumed and prepared as thoroughly as any sacrifice ever was.

Instead of my old clothes, I was given a diaphanous light purple dress. Purple, the color of sacrifice. But not the royal purple the elders wore. No, this dress was a maidenly pastel.

Why is it always a maiden? Do maidens taste better than non-maidens?

Or is it because it’s other appetites that the maiden is supposed to feed?

Another spoiler: things don’t get that kind of icky. Just to clarify.

Iperched on a cushion, barefoot and wearing nothing but the thin purple gown. It was all I could do not to shake—from the chill inside the citadel or from fear, I wasn’t sure.

One of the women brought a tray piled high with roasted lamb, honeyed dates, and a tabbouleh of bulgur wheat, parsley, and chopped peppers seasoned with olive oil.

I stared at the tray, my stomach churning. How was I supposed to eat this, knowing what it was? My last meal.

Was I supposed to eat to make myself more succulent and delectable to the dragon?

My stomach heaved, and it took all my self-control to keep from hurling.

The wife of the head elder took one look at my face, then propped her fists on her ample hips. “The rest of you, leave us for a few minutes.”

The other elders’ wives filed out of the room, leaving me sitting numbly on a cushion, my hands limply in my lap.

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