It was about the size of a large horse, with huge feet and a massive head, like it wasn’t fully grown. It had large, golden eyes set on either side of its face, horns, and claws that left long gashes in the wood floor.
Its back was armored with two rows of sharp spines, running from just behind its shoulders to the end of its tail, which was so long that it hung over the edge of the building. It seemed to grow larger and larger as it came toward her, flame and smoke fuming from its nostrils.
I guess I can still find a way to burn to death, Jenna thought. But she was too dull-witted and dizzy to fight back. Or even to move.
When it was within a few feet of her, it stopped and cocked its head. Flamecaster? The word sounded inside her head, a question mark at the end. Understanding flooded in. It was the voice she’d been hearing since the emissary’s arrival.
I’m either dead or dreaming, she thought. But sometimes you just need to go on with it.
“Flamecaster,” Jenna repeated. “Is that your name? Have you been looking for me?”
It inched forward, head bowed, and bumped its nose timidly against her knee. She rested her clawlike hand on its head, feeling its hot breath on her bare toes, the scent of char and flame mingling in her nose. She tried to remember what she’d heard about dragons, besides the fact that they are made up. Did they eat people?
“I’m Jenna,” she said, as if it wouldn’t eat her once they were introduced.
She could feel the push of the dragon’s mind, as if it were seeking an opening that it knew was there. Finally, something came through clearly. It was more an image in her mind than a word.
Jenna.
“That’s right!” she said. “You’re just a lytling, aren’t you?” she murmured, scratching behind its horns. It nudged her like a cat, wanting more, but a dragon is not a cat. She ended up flat on her back, with the dragon looking down at her, all shamefaced, its golden eyes wide with alarm.
Jenna hurt.
“You don’t know your own strength, do you?” she said, forcing a smile to reassure it. She managed to sit up, resisting the temptation to close her eyes and let the rain fall on her face. She was shaking, teeth chattering, fighting off waves of dizziness.
Help?
At first, she thought he was asking for help, but then she realized that it was offering help.
“I wish you could help,” she said, blotting at her eyes. “I dropped my berries and I can’t find them.” She knew she sounded like a loon, but she couldn’t seem to form a sentence that made sense.
Berries? Flamecaster said eagerly. Want food?
Jenna laughed, stroking the dragon’s head. She looked down at her own arms. Her scales were fading now that the fire was out, and her hands were losing their clawlike appearance. It was as if she armored up only when she needed that protection.
All right, then, she thought. Tally up another gift, you bloodthirsty bastards.
First it was fire, and now ice. She was freezing in the wind and sleet, clad only in her thin silk gown. Flamecaster’s body burned with a hot, dry heat that was just what she craved. Jenna pressed herself against him in an effort to warm herself. She could hear his heart beating, and hers began to beat in time.
The dragon shifted, sliding his body under her, gripping her arm and rolling a little so that she ended up lying on top of him, just forward of where the spines began, her face pressed against his muscled neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her knees around his body. It was like hugging a wood-burning stove, only more intimate, somehow.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “That’s much warmer. It really—”
Now fly.
Claws rattled against stone as Flamecaster charged forward and launched from the tower with Jenna clinging to his back.
Jenna screamed, and kept on screaming, her voice mingling with that of the dragon. At first it was all terror, but soon became a cry of ferocious joy. They soared out over the castle close. The city beneath them was as small as a child’s toy village left out in the rain, with poufs of smoke from many chimneys.
Squinting her eyes against the rain, she looked back at the ruined tower, which resembled a charred and broken tooth. Take that, you gutter-swiving, murderous, black-hearted devil. She tightened her knees against the dragon’s sides and whooped.
So this is what heaven is like, she thought. Who knew?
They were over the harbor now. Below, she saw a ship with broken masts and a hole in the side. It looked tiny from so high above. Could that be the emissary’s ship? Though badly damaged, it was still afloat.
Chains and stinging collars. Dark, stinking hole. Enemies.
“Yes,” Jenna whispered, pressing her cheek against Flamecaster’s neck. “Enemies.”