Dragon Dodgers: Wounds in the Sky, #0.5

By V. R. Cardoso

Dragons rule the land and mankind hides underground. Only a brave few dare to cross the great outdoors - Surface Runners.

Enrig of Saggad longs to leave his underground home, seeking adventure and freedom on the surface, far away from the caves of his youth and the reprimands of his addled mother. Joining the Watch seems promising, but what he really dreams of is becoming a Surface Runner, evading Dragons and running across the land for treasure and glory. It is a far-flung wish for one as young as he, until a chance encounter lands him in the lap of the Dragon Dodgers, a Company of Surface Runners on a very special mission. Will Enrig be allowed to join them? And if he is, will he find anything other than death?

Dragon Dodgers is a prequel novella in the critically acclaimed Wounds in the Sky series. Grab your copy now and join Enrig in an action-packed, fast-paced adventure that will keep you turning the pages until the very end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vasco Cardoso
• Release date: May 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393605027

V. R. Cardoso

I remember writing short stories on my dad's old Mac SE 30. He would then print a few copies at the office so I could distribute them to my class. This was in elementary school. I mostly ripped off everything that I read or watched. I remember having a hero that was suspiciously similar to Indiana Jones, except his name came from a book cover standing on the shelf behind the computer. I grew up on a healthy diet of fantasy novels, video games, and daydreaming. After graduating in business, I spent a few years cranking out headlines, scripts, and silly ideas in an advertising agency in Lisbon. Having written about pretty much everything, from laxative pills to car insurance, I decided it was time to start writing about what I truly enjoy. So I've taken the plunge and I'm now self-publishing my works of fiction. I also eat a lot of crepes.

Book preview

The Watcher And The Runner

Enrig chased Merriqh up the corridor, dodging weave baskets, pitchers, and even passing workers. His arms rasped against the naked rock walls and he felt the smell of wet stone with every gasp.

Merriqh! he called. Merriqh, wait.

He was forced to slow down when he reached the exit chamber. Luckily for him, so was Merriqh. The room was packed full of workers. A mob of half-fed beggars, desperate enough to risk their lives on the surface for a dozen gold Spades.

You have to take me, Enrig said.

No, I don’t, Merriqh replied.

The king’s overseer was a balding man with three scars and a limp that he had earned in the days when he himself had been a Watcher. Enrig swallowed a curse. He was trying his best not to be annoying, but even he could tell it wasn’t working.

Yes, you do. You need me.

Why? Merriqh inspected a pile of empty containers, then gave a group of workers permission to carry them. You’re still a kid, you’re too slow to be a Watcher.

No, I’m not! Enrig said. Ugas is larger than a bull, are you saying he’s faster than me?

Hey! Ugas cried from across the room. I can hear you, you piece of snot.

Enrig ignored him.

And I have better sight than most of them, too.

Bull crap! yelled someone behind Ugas.

With few exceptions, the group of Watchers Merriqh employed was a bunch of overpaid slackers. Even the overseer knew that. They were gathered at the corner closest to the exit, as they would be the first to leave the safety of the underground.

Oh yeah? Enrig asked. Last Fall, who spotted that Dragon on the third day of the harvest?

For a moment, no one answered him.

You did, Merriqh conceded.

"Exactly. And almost too late, because it was his quadrant," said Enrig pointing at a Watcher called Teric.

Screw you, kid! Teric growled. The sky was darker than my bum.

Enrig dismissed him with a hand wave.

You want excuses, he told Merriqh, fine. Stick with them. But if you want Watchers that can actually spot Dragons, give me a job.

Merriqh scanned his grumbling team of Watchers and then looked up a ventilation shaft. They were so close to the surface, he could see the sun, shining from it, like a bratty child sneaking a peek.

I promised your mom I wouldn’t, he said in a low voice.

Enrig’s eyes went wide.

Are you serious?! he said.

She’s your mother! Merriqh replied. She worries about you.

She didn’t even recognize me this morning.

Merriqh was taken aback.

Breath of Fyr... That bad, huh?

Enrig was barely fourteen, but he looked older, drier as if childhood had been sucked out of him.

It gets better when she’s passed out, he replied. Are you gonna give me that job or not?

Alright, Merriqh said. I guess I can use a second pair of eyes in the Northwest Watch.

There was a collective groan among the Watchers, but one of them stepped forward and took Enrig by the shoulders in a friendly embrace.

Come on little cousin, you can watch my sky while I nap.

His name was Cavill and he was as tall and blonde as Enrig wasn’t. He ruffled Enrig’s hair, making him pull away while pushing back a smile.

Alright, you lazy bums, Merriqh yelled, this crop won’t harvest itself. Let’s go!

* * *

Targon’s gray cloak flowed like a cape around him. Thick mud covered his boots as they splashed across the forest floor. The sun was already above the tree tops, and he could feel the temperature rising as sweat began to drip from his forehead. He stopped, lowered the scarf covering his mouth, and pulled his hood back, then whistled and raised a closed fist.

Everybody change, he ordered.

Around him, twenty shrouded figures undressed their own cloaks. The darkness of the group was replaced with a colorful mix of leather clothes, scantily covering their brown, tattoo covered skins.

One of the men stepped up to Targon.

Captain, he called. His name was Nasur, a towering man with shoulders wider than most doors. His red plaited beard reached down to his massive chest. The men are exhausted, we should rest.

Nonsense, Targon replied as he took off his own cloak. We should be on top of the city within the hour. The men can run for a little longer.

We’ve never been here, how can you be so sure?

Targon pulled out a piece of painted parchment.

The map is accurate. It brought us this far without mistake, why would it fail on the last couple of miles? Besides, what idiot could misplace the largest city in the East?

If the city is that big, it certainly won’t go anywhere. Let’s rest for a bit.

No way. Targon put the map safely back in his pocket. We’re almost there, Nasur. We’re so close I can already see that gold.

I’m glad you can, because no one else in the company has seen a single coin in weeks...

Targon knelt down and secured his neatly folded cloak on his backpack.

Right! he yelled, standing back up. Enough slacking around. We’re almost there so let’s double time it.

* * *

The Northwest Watch was nothing more than a brown hill overlooking dark green rice fields. Enrig was sitting on a large crevice where the edges of rock carved into his skin, but it provided decent cover. Below, dozens of workers hunched down, collecting rice in a frenzy. Even from that distance, Enrig could see them constantly looking over their shoulders.

So much sky makes them nervous, Enrig thought. He loved the outdoors, the surface. It seemed so... infinite. Still, even Enrig had to admit it was unsettling not to have a roof over his head. The way the landscape just kept going on forever into nothingness seemed unnatural. As if the goddess Fyr had made it on purpose, as a warning for humans – you don’t belong here!

You should be more careful, you know?Cavill said.

About what?

The way you talk. Some of the things you said back there... He shook his head. You’re not gonna make many friends that way, that’s for sure.

Enrig shrugged.

I don’t plan on being a Watcher forever.

You don’t?! Cavill asked. Why are you always begging for a spot, then?

"Because it’s good practice for