Entering the narrow fissure in the mountain’s wall, he squeezed his body as he went, passing through the illusion of a solid back wall and on past his wards. Now that he was hidden from view, he shifted to humanoid, and walked back out through the illusion in the form of an elvatian man.
He’d take her in, but his secrets were still his own and he and his brethren had kept their shape shifting skills secret for millennium. Dragons were nearly gone from this universe and secrets were one of the few things keeping them from complete extinction.
He scooped up her still form, snagging his bag of gold for good measure. Her life-force was weakening. He didn’t have much time.
In the back of the entry cave he took her deeper in to his lair, bending and turning to the side in order to get her through the narrow entrance just large enough for a stooping gnome. He’d done some modifications to his side of Cairngloss, but not many. He hadn’t had to. Keeping the doors small meant larger predators would never be able to come in. And, given his ability to be whatever he wanted, a door built for gnomes was no problem. At least this palace had been for the taller Galatian gnomes and the doors were a good size for elvatians. Once past the sliver of entrance, the passageway widened out into a wide cavern heaped to the sides with piles of treasure.
He dropped the bag onto a convenient pile and took her deeper into the cave system, all the way to his bedroom. He liked the elvatian form and frequently spent time in it. Having hands and fingers was so much better for doing many mundane tasks, and this form took way less energy to maintain than his dragon form with its huge size. Even his cold fire was a tiny burning spark deep inside this humanoid shape, requiring much less fuel.
Her furs and leathers had been soaked with melting ice when he’d picked her up, but the flight through the frigid air had frozen the fabric to her body, and he struggled to peel off the layers. Normally he would have admired her curves, despite the fact that she was nothing but skin and bones, but he had to get her warm fast, or his decision to keep her alive would be moot.
“Where is it?” Leaving her naked on the bed, he opened up a drawer and dug through the pile of golden amulets and necklaces. “I know I stuck it in here somewhere.” Three drawers of jewelry later, he found it. “Ah-ha!”
He placed the amber warming amulet on its golden chain around her neck and nudged the spell. The central amber stone began to pulsate with heat. He placed her emaciated body under the furs and blankets on the bed and tucked her in. She looked lost in his large bed and an odd feeling came over him—would she make it?
He had no idea, and strangely, it worried him.
SIOBHAN WOKE UP HUNGRY, warmed by something heavy on her chest and cocooned deep inside a bed of furs. She sat up and her head spun. Pulling the bedclothes up around her bare shoulders she held still until she could focus and take stock.
The last thing she remembered was staring a huge dragon in the face and hoping he wasn’t going to kill her and now she was naked in someone else’s bed and wearing only a huge piece of golden jewelry that purred like a warm cat on her chest.
Trying not to panic, she looked around the room. Its walls seemed to be formed out of solid rock, and there were no windows to be seen. The bed was massive, with a dark, carved headboard and a wooden frame, where once curtains must have hung. A single candle sat on the cluttered bedside table, the light of the flames glinting on more treasure than she’d ever seen in her life. More than she’d ever imagined she’d see.
Every surface of the large room had something on it. The floors were covered in costly wool rugs, woven in bright colors that spoke of wealth. Every surface on all four walls was packed with paintings, tapestries, and odd pieces of random furniture—five golden chairs were on one wall and half of a narrow side table hung from another bracketed by silver trays of varying shapes and sizes.
And every single table that was actually on the floor of the room—she counted six—had its own collection of shiny silver boxes and candlesticks. Or a pair of large vases with ornate flowers sketched in glowing colors. Or carved wooden trays overflowing with knickknacks, large and small.
Coming from the austerity of the northern villages, where any spare coin was spent on clothing or food, she’d never seen anything like it. The furs on the bed alone were equivalent to a year of her father’s income, let alone what everything else in the room was worth.
From an armchair in a shadowy corner of the room by the fire, a deep masculine voice rumbled. “So, you’re awake.”
“Oh!” She pulled the blanket up to her neck and moved fast, scooting back against the headboard, almost banging her head.
“Easy, go slow.” He stood up and came closer to the bed, stepping into the circle of candlelight.
His hair was a deep black, the candlelight picking out flashes of blue in the curls. His pointed ears indicated he was elvatian, but he was much more muscular than any Tuathan De Dannan, moving with easy confidence in the cluttered space. He had pale blue eyes that were crystalline, like hers, but the pupils were a black slit down the center. Like the dragon’s.
“The amulet has healed you, but you’ve been through a lot and your body may still be weak.”
“Who are you? And where am I?”
He smiled, his cat’s eyes crinkling up at the corners. “I’m Doyle, manservant to the dragon, Atavantador.”
And with those words it all came rushing back. Her bungled attempt at rescue. The blur of years lost in frozen hibernation. The loss of Bosco.
“I have to find my brother. He’s in trouble.” She moved to get up, but she was still weak and the furs seemed very heavy. “Where, for Danu’s sake, are my clothes.” She pulled just one blanket up and stood, weaving a little.
“Slow down, before you fall down. Your clothes have been washed and dried. They’re right here.” He pointed to a small chest where the clothes she’d been wearing lay neatly folded on top, with her pack lying close by. Even her sword was there. The queen hadn’t bothered to take it from her, she thought bitterly, that’s how little she’d felt threatened.
She stood up straight, clutching her blanket and eying the stranger. “If you’ll be so kind as to give me some privacy I’ll get dressed and be on my way.”
He was dressed in clothes the likes of which she’d never seen before: some type of denim pants and a soft white shirt with short sleeves. Could a hundred years have made that much difference in clothing? Maybe he’d used a portal and picked them up on another world. She certainly hoped so or else she was going to have a lot of trouble fitting into the world after her imprisonment.
He shook his head. “Maybe you don’t remember everything, but you swore your life to the dragon’s service. And if you value your life, you won’t be leaving Cairngloss.”
The rest of her memories flooded through. “The dragon? That wasn’t a dream?”
His cat’s eyes looked strangely sympathetic. “No, it wasn’t a dream.” He walked over to the door. “Get dressed and I’ll be right back with some food.” He left, and the cluttered room felt oddly empty.
She was on her own, Danu only knew where she was, if her family were still alive, and where Bosco was. She huddled in her blanket, suddenly cold despite the heat of the amulet.