The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(25)
“I don’t know. But something lit the fire, and there’s still air in the cave, even with the fires blazing, so it is possible for it to live in here. Look over there.” He points to my left, and I follow the line of his finger. On the lakeshore there is only one place where fire isn’t blazing: a wide, sandy path situated between two towering piles of burning rock—the perfect escape route out of the water.
“It’s got to be a trap,” Golmarr says. “I think it wants us to come out of the water.”
“Why?”
“So it can kill us?” He says it like a question, and he looks at me. His hazel eyes are dark, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. “I really hoped we could have snuck out without meeting the fire dragon.”
“You have three arrows left. Can’t you shoot it?”
“My bowstring was ruined by the water.” He reaches out and lifts the dragon scale flask. Pulling an arrow from his dripping quiver, he scrapes the metal tip across the scale. It doesn’t leave so much as a scratch. “I don’t think an arrow is going to pierce the dragon’s scales…but I could shoot it in the eye. At least, if my bow hadn’t lost its spring I could have tried.” He reaches an arm around my waist, and my heart flurries against my ribs. His hand finds the small of my back, and my breath catches in my throat as I stare at his lips. And then he wiggles the hunting knife, still securely held in place by my waistband. “Do you remember what I said about wielding this?”
I nod. “Stab forward, or hold it with both hands and swing with all my might. No chopping.”
A touch of a smile turns one corner of his mouth up. “Right. And go for the weak spots—eyes, throat, underbelly.” He slides his sword from its sheath, and it dawns on me why he is reminding me how to fight.
I grip his water-stiffened leather vest in both my hands and stare right into his eyes. “You’re going to fight the fire dragon now, aren’t you?” He nods. Tears spring into my eyes. Pain cinches around my heart at the thought that this might be the last time I see him alive. “Please…” I have nothing to say. Please don’t die? Please kill it? Please don’t leave me here alone because the thought of living without you hurts? Instead, I throw my arms around his neck and, once more, hug him to me as tight as I can. His arms encircle me and hold me firmly against him. There is no please, so I say, “Thank you.” He lets me go and before he can stride away to fight the dragon, I touch a finger to my forehead and then cross it with my other finger. A slow, sad smile graces his mouth, and he nods at me.
And then, with his sword still clutched in his hand, he silently drops beneath the water’s surface, legs splayed out like a frog’s, and glides away.
When Golmarr reaches the lake’s edge, only his dark head emerges from the water. He looks left and then right, and slowly, bit by bit, creeps out of the water, right in front of the sand pathway. His sword reflects firelight as he uncurls to his full height.
Behind me, I hear the snap of fabric catching the wind—the same sound I heard when I was looking down the well of light—and a gust of searing air pushes against my back, creating ripples on the lake’s surface. I whip around and look over my shoulder and forget to breathe.
A massive dragon is soaring in the air behind me. Its body shimmers like glowing orange jewels catching the light from the fire. Giant feet are tucked up beneath it, tipped with curved gray claws. It flaps its wings of tattered gold, sending another burst of blistering wind through the cave that makes the fire sputter and dance. I gasp a breath of air to yell a warning, but it sears my lungs and silences me. I swallow and force my voice to scream, “Golmarr! Run!” Ducking behind the stalagmite nub I’ve been holding, I tremble as I watch the great beast soar over my head. The dragon glides on the air, its wings barely fitting between the stalagmite columns, and swoops toward Golmarr. “Run!” I shriek again.
Golmarr does not run. He turns toward the dragon and lifts his sword. His bare arms flex with muscle as he swings the sword around, slashing at the air with the grace of a warrior. “If you have any honor, you will land and fight me!” he yells. The dragon flies over Golmarr but turns in the air, circling back the way it came. “Fight me,” he yells again.
The dragon turns to Golmarr once more and soars toward him. He raises his sword, ready to charge, but before the dragon is close enough for him to use his weapon, a deluge of white fire bursts forth from its mouth, engulfing the horse lord. The fire passes him, hits the cave wall, and goes out, but Golmarr is covered in flames. They lap at his skin, cling to his clothing, and curl around his hair. He screams, and the sword drops from his hand. He falls to his knees, his scream replaced with silence. “Get in the water,” I cry. His body crumples to the ground, and he lies there, a smoldering pile of flesh and clothing.
I dig my feet into the ground and start pulling myself through the water, clawing against it, and finally slosh out of the lake. Stumbling onto shore, I throw my dripping body onto Golmarr’s. His flesh sears my skin, and steam hisses out between us as the flames consuming him trickle to nothing and die. I roll him onto his back, and his vest burns my hands. I gasp and pull away. The vest’s metal plating has burned the leather to white ash. I yank it open, and the metal squares fall out of the leather, sizzling against his chest. With hardly a thought for my fingers, I knock the plates off his body. Beneath them, his shirt is ash, and his skin is blistered. He smells much like a piece of meat that has been too long on the flames: burned to a crisp. I turn away and gag.