“I am Ona, the king’s mage in Vanir. We have maintained a peaceful existence at the foot of these mountains since the time of the old dragons,” the mage says carefully. “Even when our queen was taken from us by the claws of your own kind—by you, perhaps—we remained peaceful.” She takes a long breath, clasping her hands in front of her waist. I slip my tail through the illusion again, wondering how she manages such a feat as she continues on. “The proof of the queen’s murder will cause a war, eventually. The king can be dissuaded if his child is returned unharmed.”
Slowly, I lower my head until my snout is merely inches from the apparition’s face. “I will not barter with you, witch. Return what is mine and you may have her. Until then, she will serve as the replacement for what’s been taken from me.” I swallow the fire threatening to spill from my snout, instead snorting smoke. “And do not threaten me with war, mage. Your kind exists as the leisure of mine. I could have razed your kingdom to the ground in search of what was taken from me and picked it from the ashes of your dead. I chose not to because senseless death should be avoided when possible. Do not sway my liberal views,” I snap, my teeth clacking together harshly.
To her credit, the mage doesn’t react. She doesn’t jump or show any other sign of the fear that a normal human would experience. I wonder, for a moment, how I appear to her wherever she is, practicing this magic. All she does is nod before the illusion dissipates into nothing more than wisps of smoke.
My wings spread, beating slowly a few times to speed the remaining magic out of my nest. I trust her kind even less than ordinary humans. Sorceresses and sorcerers cannot be trusted; it’s too easy for them to find out things they have no business knowing.
In the old days, their kind knew the truth about dragonkin. Some even claim that they’re related to us, distantly. The old dragons think magical humans are just dragonkin whose magic evolved differently—instead having a noble form, they can manipulate the world around them.
I much prefer my fire and scales.
I blow a circle of fire onto the stone floor near the ledge and curl up into a ball atop it, smothering the flames with my body as the heat sooths my scales. My tail tucks beneath my chin, pillow of sorts, as my eyes slowly begin to close.
The princess hasn’t made her way back to the treasure room yet. No doubt, she’s searching for a way out of the mountain. She won’t find it. Not alone. Not at night. With that, I close my eyes, letting blue skies and clouds take me over.
Chapter Ten
I pull on the torch again, trying to dislodge it from the wall but it won’t budge. I glare at it as I run my fingers over the smooth piece of metal holding it to the wall. There are no bolts to be found, only the strip of metal laid carefully across the torch. My fingers find the wilted edges and I gasp. It’s been melted to the wall!
“How strange,” I mutter before looking away, further down the tunnel. No light comes from that direction. With a deep breath, I make my way into the darkness. It doesn’t take long before I’m completely enveloped in the black nothingness of the mountain. My fingers trace along the cool stone, grazing over bumps and crevices in the rock.
I have to at least try to escape this mountain. There must be a way out, through here somewhere. The fact that the lights end very early in the passage is telling. I’m sure the dragon only uses the landing where the treasure is stored, but surely there’s an exit that doesn’t end in a sheer drop off like the one behind me.
A sound ahead, like something sharp clicking across the floor, causes me to pause, my heartbeat quickening as I throw a hand in front of me to feel for anything in the dark. I feel nothing. My toe sweeps out, brushing my bare foot against the damp stone feeling for anything that might be a threat.
A distinct, low growl erupts from the darkness and my eyes go wide, as if that’ll help me see in the dark. The dragon hasn’t come after me yet; she probably doesn’t think I can find my way out . . . or she knows I can’t. Is there something worse in these caves than the great beast who brought me here?
Taking a step backward, I swallow the fear threatening to bubble from my lips. My right hand slides along the wall, grounding me in some small way as I take another step, then another. I know better than to turn my back or to run. Whatever is in the darkness is a predator, and predatory instincts are to chase. If I run, I’ll be inviting attack. If I turn my back, I’ll be inviting attack.
I blow out a shaky breath as more growls fill the cavern. Images of monstrous beasts fill my mind as I stare into the dark, trying desperately to see what is stalking me. My feet slip in a puddle of water and I nearly lose my balance, a small squeal slipping past my lips. The answering snarls in the darkness sound closer.
Already, I can see the faint glow of the torches behind me. The light casts strange shadows over my shoulder. I watch the shadows as I continue my backward progression toward the dragon—at least I know I can reason with that predator. This beast in the darkness is much less likely to be intelligible.
I pass the first torch and nearly scream when it lights up the muzzle of a massive wolf. The scarred fur across its face wrinkles as it snarls, its lips up, lowering its head toward the ground as it takes a slow step forward. I scramble backward, passing the bathing chamber. I don’t have far to go now, I reason with myself, my hands shaking as I cast my eyes downward.
“Never look them in the eye,” my father had said when he took me hunting. The bear we finally felled was a vicious beast and I’d made the mistake of looking it in the eye, drawing its anger toward me.
Wolves are probably the same. At least, in my mind, the logic holds.
I shudder as a massive paw comes closer, the sound of growls echoing off the walls of the tunnel. There’s an entire pack in here!
Swallowing my fear, I take another step backward and find myself in the main cavern, treasure lining the walls. I don’t look up from the ground until I’m well away from the tunnel.
When I do, two yellow eyes peer out at me, the massive black wolf highlighted by the torchlight behind it. It looks from me to the sleeping dragon behind me and looses one threatening growl before disappearing into the tunnel.
“Gods,” I mutter, plopping down on the ground. The wall behind me holds me up as I look to the slumbering giant, her tail hanging off the of the cliff as if she has no fear, no cares in the world at all. “How can she sleep through those growls?”
And then I realize, wolves are no threat to her kind. They’re no more a predator to her than a housecat is to me. I slide my hands into the long sleeves of the borrowed shirt I found in the bathing room and lean my head back against the wall. There’s no bed here, no blankets, no fire. I suppose the dragon keeps herself warm, but what am I supposed to do?
And how will I defend myself if those wolves decide to come into this cavern? I chew my lip bringing my knees up to my chest as I consider my options. I suppose they won’t want to get too close to the dragon—she could easily defeat them, and I’m sure they know that. Wolves are notoriously crafty creatures.
But that only makes me worry more about them lurking in the darkness. “Smart foes are dangerous foes,” my mother used to say. She was right. So very, very right.