She released a short burst of the blue light—just a momentary flash. The dragon lunged toward it, tongue licking out, as if trying to taste it. He snapped at the light as Phryne moved it around experimentally, fascinated with its elusiveness.
“Phryne! Stop playing with him!” Pan was beside himself. “He’s going to get angry!”
She actually laughed then, not in a derisive way, but gleefully. “No, he likes this! He likes being teased! Look at him! He’s having such fun!”
Indeed, it seemed that way. The dragon was shifting this way and that, yellow eyes following the movement of the light, trying to keep up with its quickness. He huffed and snorted and sometimes actually whined like a house pet.
But finally Phryne closed off the light, bringing the magic back inside, and the Elfstones went dark again.
The dragon went very still, waiting. When nothing happened, when the light failed to reappear, he began casting about, searching for it. When that failed to produce results, he looked at Phryne and then spread his great wings and rose into the sky. He soared away, spiraling across the vast blue, and for a moment Pan thought he might be leaving. But then down he came anew, settling right back into the space he had occupied earlier.
Phryne looked over her shoulder at Pan, who was still standing rooted in place, not certain what to do. “You see? He wants to play some more! He wants the light!”
Panterra wasn’t sure about that. The dragon might not be thinking that way. Who knew how dragons thought? But Phryne wasn’t about to listen. She’d captivated the beast, and now she was looking to do something more. Already, she was advancing on him, fearless and confident, holding out the hand with the Elfstones, the light dimmed but the scent of the magic clearly recognizable to the dragon. He sniffed the air, and then as Phryne stopped while still a dozen feet away, the great beast lowered himself to the ground and dropped his head until it was resting against the earth with his horned snout almost touching her.
She walked forward once more, stopping when she was right in front of him.
Reaching out the hand that held the Elfstones, she caressed the scales of his great muzzle. Immediately, the dragon lidded his eyes and went very still.
“Phryne?” Pan kept his voice quiet. “What are you doing?”
“Testing a theory,” she answered, not looking at him. “Finding out if something is possible, something … wonderful. Can you hand me your cloak?”
“What?”
“Your cloak. Can you hand it to me?”
He didn’t argue. He removed his travel cloak, folded it over his arm, and walked up beside her. He could see one of the dragon’s eyes fix on him, opening slightly, sharp and baleful. Without looking away from the dragon, he handed Phryne his cloak.
“Step back,” she said quietly. “You’re making him nervous.”
He almost laughed. He was making the dragon nervous? But he did as he was told, backing away slowly, trying not to show how frightened he was, determined not to do anything that would antagonize the beast. Phryne held her ground. It seemed that she felt no fear, that nothing of this business troubled her in the least. Rather, with her face glowing and her smile bright, she seemed eager and excited.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” he heard her whisper. “Pan, stay where you are. Don’t move.”
He watched as she moved around to stand right in front of the dragon’s left eye, where he could see her clearly. Stripping off her own cloak, she bound it to Pan’s using the clasps that fastened each about the neck of the wearer. Then she walked to a place just behind the great head, to where the dragon could still see what she was doing, and carefully flipped the joined cloaks across the beast’s neck where it joined to his head and the spikes separated to form a narrow …
He froze with the word on his lips.
Saddle.
“No, Phryne!” he cried out, starting forward.
Instantly the dragon’s head lifted and swung toward him, his jaws parting, and Pan got a very clear and unobstructed view of rows of jagged teeth starting at the tip of the snout and running all the way back into the darkness of the throat. The dragon’s tongue licked out, and he hissed in warning.
Phryne whirled on him. “Stay still, Pan, or he will kill you! You don’t command the magic he craves. I do. He will do what I say. I can feel it. But I can’t protect you!”
“You can’t protect yourself!” Pan snapped back.
“That remains to be seen. That’s what we’re going to find out!” She was moving toward the makeshift saddle, the hand with the Elfstones held out toward the dragon, holding his attention. She had summoned the magic anew, and it was flaring within her fist, shards of it clearly discernible. The dragon watched her carefully.
“Don’t do this!” he said, angry now and afraid. “You can’t ride a dragon!”
“I think I can. I think I’ve found my way back to the Elves. I think this is how I can reach them and how I can help them.” She was standing right next to the dragon, looking up at the layer of cloaks, unable to reach them from the ground. She looked back at him. “Will you help me up?”