Another cry. Then another.
The fourth time, a scuffle broke out.
“Get off me, Perig!”
An oomph and a cry for help left me believing that Perig was losing the battle with Moldark.
A loud thwap pinged the metal cage. “Do you see that wagon piled high with bodies killed by this wretched beast? A little punishment goes a long way to—”
“This draignoch belongs to the king!” Perig griped.
A draignoch? Impossible.
All had been killed or captured long ago, or so Xavier told me. Once upon a time, the beasts ravaged the lands. Xavier’s home, with his family inside, was trampled by the monsters. He was the sole survivor. Hinterfolk spoke of draignochs only in whispers, as if saying the name would unleash the monsters again. I hid behind the trunk, tempted. I had never seen one before.
It cried out for a fifth time.
I should leave. As it was, I was too close to the soldiers, but I found it impossible to resist a peek.
I crawled to the hedges. Kneeling, I slid my hands into the prickly branches, parting enough space for me to glimpse Moldark stab a spear through the bars.
The draignoch let out a strangled cry.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Moldark wasn’t just beefy. He was a mountain of a man. His face pocked, his hair greasy black. He growled at the draignoch, showing off the few teeth he had left in his head.
I couldn’t see the draignoch clearly in the shadows of the cage, but I could hear it. It knocked into the side, nearly toppling it over.
“Moldark!” Perig flailed his hands at the huge man. “Be reasonable! If this falls over . . . if it escapes . . .” His fearful gasps stopped.
“It can’t escape a Phantombronze cage, Perig.” Moldark rattled the bars with his spear.
Another first. I’d always thought Phantombronze was made up by bards who ran out of stories to tell. They sang of it being the strongest metal ever found. Unbreakable even. They said if the deep mines under the Walled City didn’t kill you, the poisonous fumes from smithing it would.
“Stop it!” Perig screeched, his pitch so high it hurt my ears. “The king will have your head cut off if he hears word of this behavior.”
Moldark aimed the spear at Perig’s heart. “If you mention my name to the king, ever, I’ll kill you before he kills me. That’s a promise.”
Perig backed up. “Just get away from it. I fed it a very powerful sleep dram. If you just stop riling it, it’ll take effect.”
“Moldark! Perig!” another soldier cried from some distance away.
Perig patted Moldark on the shoulder, delivering a pleading grin. “Sir Raleigh calls. Cannot keep him waiting.”
“Hands off,” Toothless growled, then immediately spun around, storming away with Perig right behind him.
This was my chance. I had to see it. I couldn’t wait to tell Xavier. Bring him back something to prove it too. Perhaps the beast would be so kind as to shed a feather or scale, or drop a turd, any unnecessary random bit that Xavier could spin into a story of magic.
A quick glance to be sure the path was clear, and I slid through the bushes. Crouching beside one of the large wheels, I laid a tentative hand on the Phantombronze. It felt smooth and frigid like river ice in winter.
The creature rumbled as if succumbing to the sleep dram.
I peeked through the bars. The cage was so layered in shadows all I could see was what the afternoon sun spotlighted, the creature’s back where bloody stab wounds marred its iridescent black skin. With every breath the beast took, its body shifted across the beams, its skin casting subtle, secret colors. It was beautiful.
Above me, its steely blue eye blinked open.
I cringed, expecting it to roar and give me away, but instead, it whispered in chuffs and clicks. Its head rose a few inches but was forced to stop when it hit the ceiling. It was much too big for the cell.
A claw scraped the metal floor of the cage, sliding between the bars, clasping the edge. The draignoch chuffed again. Slightly louder this time, pumping its claw, like a beckoning finger.
This was a trap. If I got too close, that claw would skewer me—its next meal on a spit. But the beast was right there, only inches away. It lowered its head so that I could feel its breath on my neck.
Chills.
I gave in to foolishness, brushing my fingers across the claw. It was hard as stone and cold as ice. As I drew back, an invisible force seemed to press my hand down. Holding it to the talon.
The draignoch rolled a purr, like a cat settling in for a long comfortable sleep—with my hand stuck to it.
No! I panicked, yanking my wrist. But it wouldn’t move. The sounds of soldiers’ footsteps padding through the tall grasses, conversations of feeding and watering horses—all of this happening on the other side of the cage. Focused on the draignoch, I had forgotten that I was standing on the edge of a lion’s den.
Voices came closer. I recognized skinny Perig’s. Him I could take, but Moldark would be an issue.
I twisted and turned, but the force was too strong. Then all at once, beneath my palm, I felt a pulse beating a simple rhythm.
The draignoch whimpered. My heart ached with familiarity, as if this creature and I had somehow happened upon each other before. But that was impossible—or was it?
I had been found wandering out of a forest. Could this beast be the reason I had no family? The reason I ended up alone?
A flash of white erupted in the middle of the red in its visible eye. The burn grew larger and larger until it was the shape of a full moon. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was terrifying, mesmerizing, and likely an indication it was about to kill me.
Not it. It wasn’t an it. It was a her. I felt that with certainty.
Heat shot through me. The full moon in her eye spread until it consumed half the red. My forearm stung. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out.
I ripped my sleeve back. The scar from my childhood was blistering and red. Three long, deep scratches. The two on the sides tilted in opposite directions, pointing toward the center. A tiny pinprick topped each one. I had no idea what had caused it. Xavier thought maybe a wild cat of some kind. But now I wondered. Was it given to me by this creature? By her?
I tried to free my hand again. With each pull, fresh fire shot through my arm. It burned, and I hissed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Perig yelled, startling me.
The draignoch groaned as if annoyed, pulling her claw back inside the cage. My hand fell away, freed. I gasped with relief, but as I turned to run, panic was replaced by a sudden deep sense of loss. For some insane and possibly suicidal reason, I didn’t want to leave her.
Perig made a mad grab with a three-fingered hand, missing the hood of my cloak by several important inches. I split the thorny bushes with my arms, feeling the raw burn on my mark fresh with every poke and stick.
“Get back here!” Moldark rushed at me from the other side, pulling his sword. The tip burrowed into my back before I could get away. I raised my hands. Caught.
“Back up! Slowly . . .”
The draignoch roared. She threw her head from side to side, shaking the cage so hard it threatened to fall over.
Moldark made the mistake of looking back. I dove into the bushes, coming out the other side. Toothless yelled, “Halt!”
As if . . .
I ran as fast as I could through the grove and across the road, Moldark huffing after me. I hurdled a stream, then started down a muddy hill. A hard boot kicked me in the back, sending me careening into the cool slippery muck.