“And the poison paralyzed him. He was helpless. You and I could have run, but you were unconscious, and I was too injured. I didn’t know what to do, so I took your sword and…” I swallow, remembering the glossy coating on the dragon’s eye. “I put it through his eye. He would have eaten you if I didn’t.” I lay my head down on my knees and shiver with cold.
Golmarr stands and walks to the lake, thrusting his sword into the water. He pulls it out and rubs it on his fire-stiffened leather pants. Holding it up to the light, he frowns, and a wave of regret makes my stomach hurt. Because of the dragon’s acid blood, by leaving his sword in Zhun’s eye, I have ruined it.
“Did his blood destroy it?” I ask. Golmarr is so intent on examining the weapon that he doesn’t hear me. I climb to my feet and sway back and forth, and then make my way to his side. “Did his blood destroy it?” I ask again.
He shakes his head and lays the blade across both his palms, holding it out for me to see. “Look at this!” The sword is so shiny it looks more like silver than steel. The emerald eyes of the dragon hilt catch the sunlight, making green orbs flicker on Golmarr’s bare chest where his vest and shirt are burned away.
“When a dragon dies,” I say, “its remaining energy and magic die with it in the form of fire. It is called death fire. Zhun’s death fire reforged your sword, changing the steel into something stronger than a human can make. This is a dragon death fire sword. A reforged sword.” I throw my fingers up over my mouth. “How do I know that?”
“Death fire, hey?” Golmarr asks. There is laughter in his voice, as if having me spew a history lesson on a subject I don’t even know is incredibly amusing. I look up and he leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. For a minute the cold shivering through me is chased away by warmth. “Thank you!” He looks around. “I wonder if there is any type of food in here.”
“The dark end of the lake has fish,” I blurt, and press my fingers to my forehead. “I don’t know how I know that, either. But a person can survive for weeks without food, as long as she has a source of water.”
Golmarr’s brow furrows, and he presses a hand to his stomach. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not hungry. I feel…” He studies me a minute. “I feel like I just consumed a feast, only without the bellyache. I feel full. I feel like there is energy overflowing from me.” He shrugs his shoulders up and down a few times. “I feel better than I have ever felt in my life.” He looks right into my eyes and smiles. Dimples form in his cheeks, and I wonder how I never noticed them before. My gaze darts to his mouth, to his white teeth, to his lips, and I feel the overwhelming urge to grab his face in my hands and press my mouth to his. He might feed a hunger I never knew I had. The thought makes my head spin, and the ground seems to quiver beneath me, so I step away from him.
“So, Sorrowlynn,” Golmarr says, casually peering around the cave. “How did the fire dragon—Zhun—get in and out of here?”
Images of water flood my mind, of gliding through it, bubbles surging around me as the deep end of the lake presses upon my body. The water changes, growing brighter and brighter, and then I burst up out of it, and I am beneath blue sky, and my wings stretch wide as they catch the air in them. I soar up over snowcapped peaks. How I long for the open air!
I blink away the vision of sky and ice and wind and point to the far end of the lake. “He got out through the dark water. It connects to another lake surrounded by snowcapped peaks.” I stare at the water and whisper, “I know how to swim, Golmarr. How do I know how to swim?”
“Can we get out that way?” he asks, ignoring my question.
I shake my head. “It is too far for a person to swim.”
He peers up at the crack in the ceiling, but already I know we will not be able to get out that way. “Zhun melted the rock around the fissure until it was slippery smooth, making it impossible to escape.” I grab my head in my hands and moan. “I shouldn’t know that! What is wrong with me?”
“I am going to ask you one more thing,” Golmarr says, his voice gentle. He puts his arm over my shoulders and pulls me against his chest. I lean into his body and try to absorb the heat from it, try to fill my hunger for warmth. “Where,” he asks, “does the dragon keep its treasure?”
The answer to his question is in my head before I have time to think about it. “Zhun had two treasures. First, his knowledge. Second, his freedom. But our ancestors took his freedom from him.” I whimper. Pain and sorrow tear at my chest, so powerful that I can barely breathe. Tears flood my eyes, and I start shaking with sobs for the imprisonment my ancestors caused the fire dragon. Golmarr’s other arm comes around me and he holds me tight. The heat from his body radiates outward and clings to my skin, and after a short while, I stop crying. “What is wrong with me?” I ask, my voice hoarse.