“That you were born to protect,” I corrected. “I’m not saying we’ll be careless, but this is far too importa—”
“You took the magic,” Denig interrupted. “That’s like taking an oath, you understand? Whether you like it or not, your duty is—”
“Don’t speak to me of oaths and duty,” I said. “I’ve made no oath, and my entire life has been a service. You’ve no idea the sacrifices we’ve made to get here, and we’re not leaving until I make my request to a creature that we both know is capable of deciding for itself.”
“You’ve got responsibilities,” he said. “I understand, I do, but I cannot abandon mine, no matter how honorable your intentions.”
“Unbelievable,” Nira muttered, stepping forward with irritation and seeming to have lost her patience. “You’d refuse to let us even try all for the sake of some selfish nobility?”
“Selfish nobility?” Denig repeated with offense, meeting her advance.
“You heard me,” Nira spat, squaring herself in front of him even though he towered over her. “You Dragonkin are so wrapped up in protecting them that you didn’t even know we’ve been at war for generations. Forget the world you live in, kingdoms and humankind be damned so long as the dragons are cozy.”
“There are only six dragons left in this mountain,” Denig growled, “and as far as we know, they’re the last six in the world. You’d take one to war, risk its life and perhaps drive them nearer to extinction, and you call my aim selfish?”
“At the very least, it’s shortsighted and stupid,” Nira quipped, and Denig’s lips pursed angrily. “You think you’re immune to it? You think war can’t reach you way up here? Well just you wait.”
Denig glared. “Is that a thr—”
“That’s enough,” Ava snapped, and though she didn’t raise her voice, it was so stern that each one of us looked at her in surprise. “Nira, step back.” Nira obeyed, but not before passing a final glare at Denig. “Denig,” Ava prompted more kindly, “if I may?” And he nodded his consent. “What my sister means is that the man fueling this war and moving on Cornwall is a glutton for power. He won’t stop until he’s unstoppable, and he’s had glimpses of what Dragonkin are capable of. If we don’t do everything we can to stop him, it seems only a matter of time before he also comes to seek the source of your power,” she motioned toward the pendant around my neck, avoiding touching it so she wouldn’t get shocked. “And how many dragons do you think he’ll kill in his search for it?”
“Right,” Nira agreed.
Ava glanced over just long enough to cast her a scolding look, and then returned her focus to Denig and Skif. “If you truly care about the dragons having a future,” she urged, “then you’ll help us secure present circumstances.”
Denig’s face softened with understanding. Ava had gotten through to him, and I nearly sighed my relief as he stood there for a silent minute to consider what she’d said. His eyes wandered from her to Nira, and then to me and Rhien, finally landing on Skif. All Skif did was nod.
“We’ll take you to Elder Numa,” Denig said finally. “They decide whether or not we show you the way.”
“Thank you,” I said, making sure my expression portrayed my sincere gratitude. It was better than flat-out refusal. “We need to find our horses.”
“We’ll help,” Skif volunteered.
As we split off to search for the horses—Ava and me, Nira and Rhien, and Denig and Skif—I wrapped my arm around Ava’s shoulders and pulled her into me for a hug. “You saved us back there,” I told her.
“Perhaps my aim was the most selfish of all,” she admitted, taking in the curious look I gave her. “If a dragon would help ensure that we make it through this, that you and I get a life together afterward, I’d do whatever I could to enlist one.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t kill us before I can try to reason with it,” I said.
Truly, I had no idea what to expect. Denig seemed to think the dragons were highly intelligent and friendly, which I believed because I’d seen it in my ancestor’s memory. Skif, however, seemed convinced that whether or not a dragon could be reasoned with, they would feel so threatened by us entering their home that we’d never get the chance to try. I couldn’t be sure which opinion was the more accurate one, but I was here on the belief that a full grown dragon was a fearsome thing to behold, and not knowing what to expect in temperament, or ability, or even size, made me more anxious about finding one than I’d been yet.
Chapter 23
After we’d managed to find our horses in the woods, Denig and Skif led us to their village a couple of miles away. The village was almost exactly as it had been in my memory—though few of the homes were in the same places, the cottages were built the same. They were the same sizes and the same shapes, made of the same materials with the same small gardens and goat pens in their yards. And every single person around stopped to stare at us as we arrived. Some of them whispered, some of them looked confused, and some noticed the dragon pendant around my neck and grew excited. Others nodded or extended greetings to Denig and Skif, and were polite enough to acknowledge us. Quite a few, though not all, had pendants of their own.
Despite the commotion we were causing, our guides were undeterred, and didn’t stop until they’d led us to a small cottage at the very heart of the village. Denig stopped at the closed entrance, which was only a long sheet of leather hanging in the empty doorway, stepping between it and us. “Elder Numa is easily overwhelmed by company,” he said.
“Should I meet them alone?” I asked, glancing around him at the entrance.
“Not alone,” he answered.
“I’ll wait with you,” Skif said, with a friendly smile to cut through Denig’s renewed guardedness, and he brushed aside the flap in the doorway. “You lot can take the horses for a drink.”
Nira and Rhien leaned to try and get a curious glimpse into the cottage, but Ava met my gaze, her head tilted in question. I nodded at her that everything was fine, smiled at them, and then followed Skif into the cottage. It took my eyes a moment to adjust once he let the flap fall closed behind us. It was dark in here, with only a couple of candles on a table at the left side casting shadows across the single room. That table was the only piece of furniture in the small cottage, but the floor was littered inches thick with furs.
“You can sit, if you’d like,” Skif offered, motioning to the cushioned floor. I moved to the center of the room and sat, folding my legs beneath me. “Forgive Denig,” he continued, using his fire magic to light the hearth on the opposite side of the cottage as the table. “He’s protective enough over the dragons even when I talk about them.” He laughed to himself, passing me to grab the only jar on the table, which was full of blue sand. “Don’t know how he’s remained even this collected since you’ve told him you were searching for one.”
I watched Skif pace past me again toward the hearth, carrying that jar. “Is it all because one rescued him?”
“Not entirely.” Skif paused by the fire to turn and look at me. “Old Ovata was from his immediate bloodline, and there hasn’t been a dragon hunter on the mountain since we were children.”
“Everyone thinks they’re gone,” I told him.
Skif hummed in acknowledgment. “Fewer of us Dragonkin are born with magic these days,” he continued. “And not everyone can endure that kind of power.” I glanced away guiltily at that, thinking about how I’d acted when I’d first gotten the magic. “But they don’t need protecting like they used to. Denig’s the only one of his line with the ability, and he takes it seriously.”
I nodded, feeling more forgiving toward Denig’s stubbornness now that I knew its source. When it came down to it, he and I weren’t so different. Duty. That was his motivation just as well as it was mine, and I understood, and I respected it. The issue had been that our senses of duty opposed the other. But now, thanks to Ava, we might have acquired a common responsibility.