You are the greatest coward I have ever beheld, too scared even to run! Even in my head, spoken with my own thoughts, the dragon’s voice is barely more than a whisper. It is still staring at me with its luminous eyes. I am not an it, it says. I am a he. My name is Zhun. Run while you can, for Strickbane is dragon venom. It will not kill me like it will kill you.
I look at Golmarr again, and a sob tears at my throat, jarring my ruined ribs. I cannot leave him here with the fire dragon.
Leave him and run, you fool! Zhun commands. He breathed in my fire. It is burning him from the inside out. You cannot save him, even if you remove him from my presence! No man can survive dragon fire in his lungs.
“Will you eat him?” I ask.
Of course. But he will not feel it. Look at him. He is battling death already.
Zhun is right. Even I can see imminent death in the rapid rise and fall of Golmarr’s chest and the lack of color in his cheeks. Beside Golmarr lies his sword, the metal blackened by flame. For the first time I actually look at his weapon. The hilt is made of two intertwined dragons with emerald eyes. My heart starts hammering in my chest, and I take a small step toward it.
Come here, Princess! the fire dragon wails. For I can feel my blood clearing the poison as we speak! I am ready to eat you! His great copper-colored eyes dart from me to the sword. I hobble up to the weapon and wrap my left hand around the dragon hilt. The metal is warm against my palm. As I lift it from the ground, my ribs shoot agony into my lungs, and blackness threatens to overcome me. I wobble and wait for the dizziness to pass, and then, still hunched over, I walk to the rocks and look up at Zhun the fire dragon. Come here so I can eat you! I can already feel my body healing! Zhun shrieks, his voice filled with fury. I swallow and take a step up the rock pile. When Zhun doesn’t move, I slowly climb the boulders, making my awkward way up to stand beside the massive beast.
He smells like rotting meat and charcoal that has been doused with water. His scales look like orange opals the size of my palm, and spikes of pale gold jut up from the creature’s spine. I put my left elbow on the dragon’s shoulder to keep from falling and feel the heat coming off his body. Swallowing down a surge of fear at being so close to such a magnificent and deadly creature, I stumble to his head and stop beside his eye. His lone eye studies me, the pupil a long, narrow slit framed with gold. I will eat you! he screams inside my head, but lies motionless. I lift the sword and place the sharp tip against the filmy skin of the dragon’s eye. I will eat you! he shrieks again.
“Not if I kill you first,” I answer, and then tighten my hand on the sword hilt and thrust the blade forward with all the weight and strength left in my ruined body. Searing, scalding dragon blood splashes against my skin and coats the raw stump of flesh where my arm has been severed, mixing fire into my blood. With every beat of my heart, I feel the fire spread through my veins until it is burning my heart and my pulse doubles, thundering against my shattered ribs. Zhun bursts into golden flames, an explosion of light that encircles me. The fire surges, billowing against my skirt and whipping my hair away from my face, and I flinch. My brain feels like it is growing, pressing against my skull so hard that I moan and then scream. Images fill my mind, flashing past so quickly I cannot tell what they are. I let go of the sword and wobble, and my knees buckle. Head over heels, I tumble down the side of the rocks until I land on the sand. The fires blazing around the cave surge and flare all the way to the ceiling and then simply stop existing. Blackness smothers the cave and swallows me, and everything stops hurting as I cling to the darkness.
A man blinks at me, squeezing tears from his dark blue eyes. His crown tilts precariously atop his bald head, and his clothing is soiled and torn. “Please!” he begs, grabbing my arm. “Please! You have to stop the fire dragon!”
“So you finally realize that you are not the king who is destined to unite the six kingdoms, King Napier?” I ask, but my voice is not my own. I am speaking with the voice of a man.
“I would have ruled fairly!” he says.
Someone beside me curses, and I turn to him. His long black hair is matted with blood on the side of his head, and his left arm, covered with blistered and blackened skin, hangs limp at his side.