Aethelbald’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Lionheart. “Come with me,” he said.
“What?”
“Come with me, Prince Lionheart. Come to the Red Desert and help me rescue the princess.”
“You . . . you cannot seriously . . . ” Lionheart turned away. “You do realize, don’t you, that you cannot enter the desert and survive? Those who have crossed beyond sight of its borders have never returned. You will die there. I cannot abandon my father and my people for certain death, as you well know.”
“Then I bid you good day,” Aethelbald said. Lionheart heard his footsteps heading for the door.
“Wait,” Lionheart said. The footsteps stopped. “I will send men with you. I will select them myself – strong men, loyal.” He faced around, gazing at the back of Aethelbald’s head. “It is all I can give you.”
Aethelbald did not look back. “Thank you, Prince Lionheart,” he said and left the room.
The attendants in the hall put their heads in, but Lionheart waved them away. “Shut the door,” he said. When it clicked shut and he was alone, he slowly took a seat once more.
“I did what I had to do,” he said to the empty air before him. “What other choice could I make?” He sank his forehead into his hand and shut his eyes tight. “What other choice was there?”
–––––––
She felt as though she had always lived there. How long had it really been? Whether days, weeks, or mere hours, she could not guess. The dragon girl sat against the wall in the shadows for what seemed like an eternity, watching the vague figures drifting, shuffling, sometimes crawling between points of red fire. Now and then a new flame would flare, casting more weird shadows along the cavern floor and walls, or an old flame would flicker away and die. On the whole, the scene before her did not change except that eventually her eyes became more used to the gloom.
Finally she stood, still pressing her back to the wall. Long moments passed and she did not move, but none of the shadow figures took notice of her. Her hands against the rock for support, she started to slide along the wall, making her way slowly around the circumference of the cavern.
She met no one as she went, for none of them came near her.
She found at last the path leading its winding way up to the mouth of the tunnel above. She looked up uncertainly, somehow unable to take another step.
A figure skulked past her. She leapt back, cowering in the shadows, but the figure did not seem to notice her. It staggered up the path, falling against the wall as it went, stumbling to its hands and knees, crawling, rising, and stumbling again. Even as she watched, when it was halfway up the path, it burst into flame. A small dragon, trailing fire, rushed forward and vanished into the tunnel.
“Do you wish to burn?”
Drawing in her breath, she turned to find yellow eyes gleaming at her.
“Do you wish to burn?” the boy with the yellow eyes repeated. He came around and stood before her, leaning his shoulder against a boulder between her and the path. “I do.”
“I . . . I wish to leave,” she said, afraid what he might respond.
“You may,” he said. “We often go out from the Village. Last time, I traveled all the way to Parumvir at the command of our Father. I scorched a dozen soldiers, scorched them to cinders on the edge of a wood.” He tossed back his head and barked a short laugh. “What a fire that was! But I want bigger things next time.”
“Must you return here when the burning is over?” she asked.
Yellow eyes blinked at her. “Where else would we go? This is our Father’s Village.”
She looked beyond him to the tunnel. “Do you never walk in the towns of men?”
“I did a little at first,” the boy said, shrugging. “But men disgust me. At first I liked to go to towns – they did not provoke me so fast. But they recognize us soon, no matter what. Their hearts fear us even if they don’t know why. I hate their fear. Nothing incites my fire more. I find I can scarcely enter a town before the fire bursts out of me now. So I come here when I need quiet. Here among my family.”
She did not answer. Instead she slipped past him and started up the path, picking her steps.
“Wait.”
She paused but did not look back. The boy came up beside her and held something out. It was a hooded robe, black and made from some animal hide. The boy wore one just like it.
“Take this,” he said. “It’s dragon skin. Cover your white hide. We don’t like to see so much exposed humanity when we aren’t burning. It’s repulsive.”