Elder Numa paused, and even in the dim lighting of the cabin, I knew they were studying me again. Staring at me. For a long minute, they said nothing, and Skif and I sat there in complete silence. I thought to mention why I was here, and what I needed, but some part of me felt that Elder Numa already knew. Just like they’d known my name, or that Skif was wondering about our relation.
“Kiena,” Elder Numa said eventually, “if you’re prepared for the challenge, Skif and Denig will show you and your company to the dragons.”
My eyes widened. “You don’t want to hear my intentions?”
“The gods know your intentions,” they answered. “And they’re satisfied.” All I could do was sit there, stunned. I hadn’t needed to make a single statement or promise. Nothing on our behalf to assure that we had no aim to harm a dragon. “Farewell.”
“Elder Numa,” I prompted hastily, before they could leave or turn to smoke again and disappear. “May I ask… will you… thank the gods for me?” Though Elder Numa didn’t look surprised, or confused, their head gave an almost curious tilt as those mysterious eyes set to studying me again. “I pray to them,” I explained, “but if I could make sure they heard me…”
Their lips curled in their gentle smile. “They hear you,” Elder Numa assured me. “May memory serve you well.” And again they were smoke, a thick cloud of it that moved toward the door until it was gone.
“Well,” Skif said, and he cleared his throat as he rose to his feet. “I suppose we’re taking you to the dragons.”
He was clearly concerned, or afraid. It was he, and not Denig, who believed the dragons weren’t docile, and surely he thought this was a dangerous task. I couldn’t deny that I was slightly worried myself. “You could simply tell us where to go,” I said. “If you hadn’t wanted to meet one face to face.”
He gave a considerate hum as he started toward the entrance. “As frightened as I am,” he said, holding the flap open for me to leave first, “my curiosity is greater. I would like to see one.” We stopped outside the cottage, searching our surroundings for a glimpse of our companions. “Just don’t expect me to stick around should you get eaten,” he teased.
“Right,” I laughed.
Skif led the way to a cottage nearby, where our group was letting the horses get a drink from a trough just outside of it. I expected Denig to feel reluctant when he heard the news that we were to be taken to the dragons, but he wasn’t. Whether he’d changed his mind in my absence, or his faith in Elder Numa was unwavering, he accepted the task without a complaint.
“We’ll leave the horses,” he said, and Skif nodded his agreement.
It wasn’t just because a dragon would terrify the horses that we didn’t take them—the way to where the dragons lived was a more difficult trek than this last week in its entirety. The village resided at the base of the mountain’s highest peak, and from it we ascended so steeply that I was even glad Haunt had stayed behind. We traversed beyond the woods, to where the trees thinned until we crossed nothing but stone. Until we traveled between and up boulders the size of a cottage, lost our footing uphill as we slipped on loose gravel, and even climbed steep ledges with footholds worn into the rock.
At each of these climbs, I could see the reluctance on Ava’s face for fear of falling. “You know,” she panted, reaching for my hand so I could pull her up the remaining foot of ledge, “if I knew what to expect at the top of this mountain, I might be tempted to fly up and meet you all there.”
I helped her to her feet. “Perhaps I’ll spark jump. We can race to the top.”
“I do believe you have an unfair advantage,” she laughed.
The last one to climb, Denig was large enough that he took a running start, leaping to grab the very top of the ledge and pulling himself up. He, too, was panting hard from the hike while he stood, but he managed a breathy laugh. “We’re nearly there.” He pointed upwards, to where our trail wound around the mountain below its peak. “They live in a cave just on the other side.”
“Thank the goddess,” Nira mumbled, wiping the back of her hand across her damp forehead.
We picked up walking, struggling up the steep switchbacks for a few minutes in silence before Denig fell into step at my side. “It’s not just the danger to whichever dragon may help you,” he told me, breathing heavily. “I expect we’ll start getting hunters on the mountain again once people know the dragons are still around.”
“I do care about their fate,” I told him.
He nodded. “If you didn’t, I don’t believe Elder Numa would have let you come.”
“What happened to you as a boy?” I asked. “To make you so protective?”
“I was out exploring on my own,” he answered, “something I thought safe because we so rarely get hunters on the mountain anymore.” He paused to take a few huffing breaths. “I set off a trap. It was only a snare set to catch their dinner, but it took me straight up into the air. I was dangling upside down by a foot when they came around and recognized me as Dragonkin.” He took another few gulps of air. “They decided they were going to kill me and make one less obstacle on their hunt for a dragon. They stabbed me once, but I healed, and twice more before one shouted to take off my head.”
“You wouldn’t have survived it,” Nira guessed, having dropped back from the head of the group to listen.
“There are some wounds that are simply too grave,” he confirmed. “Once the cold steel set against the back of my neck, I thought I was dead for sure. But the man raised his sword, and a spike this large,” he held his hands more than a foot apart, “went straight through his chest.” Both Rhien and Ava took awed breaths, crowding in so intently that it was hard to keep our pace steady. “A huge dragon slithered through the trees, surprising them all and saving my life. Never since have I seen a creature like it. It was beautiful.”
“Will you describe it?” Rhien asked.
“It was a deep, dark green,” Skif answered for him, reciting it over his shoulder at us like he’d heard it a thousand times. “An old, healthy emerald, like the evergreen trees that sing of hope in the harshest of winters, with warm tones of brown along its stomach and tail, and eyes the comforting shade of mahogany.”
Denig gave a good-natured shrug. “He tells it just as well.”
“Is it still alive?” Ava asked.
“It is,” Denig said with a smile. “Dragons live for hundreds of years, and it was young when we met.”
“Did you name it?” Nira questioned.
“Pine Shadow,” Denig answered.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “You named the dragon Pine Shadow?”
He chuckled, nodding. “It appeared as smooth as a phantom from the trees, killed all four men without making a sound, and then disappeared again.”
“What about the others?” Rhien prompted, glancing back and forth between Denig and Skif. “Have you named them?”
“We’ve not seen them,” Skif answered. “But we have names passed down through generations.” He counted on his fingers. “There’s Pine Shadow. Ember…”
“A fire breather?” I guessed.
Denig hummed excitedly. “Whose flesh is said to mimic the dancing of flames.”
“Monarch,” Skif added, counting a third finger. “The one with poison breath, and scales the black and brilliant yellow of a monarch butterfly.”
“Scorpion,” Denig added.
“Oh,” Skif drawled in wonder. “I’ve seen a drawing of that one. Can’t see it amongst the rocks because it’s pebbled like stone, and the end of its tail is sharp and poisoned.”