Dropping the ladder into the darkness, he climbed down, using his fingertips to kindle his torch.
The dragon lay at the rear of the hold. Its head was down, resting on its forelegs, and its eyes were closed and crusted, like it hadn’t opened them in a while. Even its scaly armor seemed dull. Rabbit carcasses lay untouched in the corner, which accounted for some of the smell. A trickle of vapor from the dragon’s nostrils was the only visible sign of life, but Ash sensed that a spark still burned deep within.
“Hey,” Ash murmured. There was no response. Ash reached out with his mind, trying to make a connection, but the mind behind the eyes was murky and muddled, impossible to read, or to communicate with.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you sick?”
For a moment, he could have sworn the dragon understood. It turned its head, and looked into Ash’s eyes, like a plea for help. Then it rested its head on its forelegs.
He eased closer until he could reach out and touch the dragon’s shoulder. It was dry and cool. But maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. He pressed his fingers against the side of its neck and felt a pulse, thready and weak. Truth be told, Ash knew nothing about dragons. But his healer’s instinct told him that this dragon was close to death.
Was it sick because it had been penned up inside the hold too long? Had it been taken away from its mother too soon? Or had it lost the will to live? Who wouldn’t, in this environment?
“I’m here to help you if I can,” Ash said. “I’m going to try and get you out of here.” The dragon didn’t stir, didn’t open an eye.
Taking a deep breath, Ash sent magic in, exploring in totally unknown territory.
The dragon was cold, cold, cold until he neared its head. It got warmer and warmer until he reached the area around the collar, which was blistering hot, feverish with power.
What was going on? Was the collar leaking magic into the dragon? Or was it preventing it from flowing into the rest of its body? Ash ran his finger over the dragon’s collar, feeling a familiar tug. Ash touched the collar around his own neck—the one that prevented him from accumulating enough flash to do mischief.
The sensation was the same. The collar around the dragon’s neck must serve the same purpose—to collect flash and to keep the dragon from fighting back.
Ash touched the dragon’s collar again, sliding his finger between the collar and the dragon’s scales. He could find no opening, no catch. It seemed to be as permanent as his own.
Could a lack of magic be what was making it sick? If so, elemental flash might be the cure. Experimentally, he pressed his palm against the dragon’s head and fed a little flash into it.
Nothing.
He fed it a little more.
The dragon shuddered and opened his eyes. They glowed like amber in the murky hold.
“Does this help?” Ash fed him more flash.
The dragon nudged Ash with its nose, pressing against him like a cat. The message was clear. More, please.
Ash complied. This time, the dragon lashed its tail against the floor.
It seemed to be helping, but Ash doubted he could produce enough flash to make up for what the collar was sucking away. He had to find a way to remove the collar.
Just then, the light trickling through the hatch was blotted out. “Ash! You down there?” It was Lila, her voice oddly shrill.
“Yes. I was just—”
“We’ve got to go. Now. All hell’s broken loose. Bring the dragon and come on.”
Ash could hear other noises. It sounded like fighting.
“I can’t bring the dragon, but maybe if I—”
“Then leave it and come before they—scummer!” Lila swore. She slid through the hatch, pulling the trapdoor closed after her. For a moment, she dangled from it by one hand, then dropped to the floor, crying out in pain when she landed.
“What’s going on?” Ash said. “Is there—”
“Shhh!” Lila looked up at the ceiling. What sounded like a dozen pairs of feet pounded overhead, the sound receding as whoever it was raced toward the bow of the boat.
“They’ll be back,” Lila said.
“Who’s they?”
“It’s those miserable bloodsucking priests,” Lila said. “A whole pack of them. They must have sniffed you out somehow. They’ve killed everyone else on board, as far as I can tell.”
That was when Ash noticed that Lila was favoring her right arm. When he moved the torch closer, he could see that her sleeve and the side of her jacket were sodden with blood.
“You’re hurt,” he said. It was an ironic turnaround from the night he’d first met the Darians, back in the dormitory at Oden’s Ford.
“It’s just a scratch, but thanks for noticing.” Lila squinted into the darkness. “If we could find a way to fasten the hatch down, maybe they won’t find us. Or at least they’ll make a lot of noise trying to get in and draw the blackbirds.”