Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
She chuckles.
There are more of the fat, lazy cows in a field nearby and I hunt down another to sate my hunger, all the while keeping watch on the dragon that still seems to hover at the edge of my senses. The scent is far away and it does not attempt to touch my mind in greeting—or in wild anger. It is not leaving, either, which is unusual.
There’s a dragon in the distance, she tells me. Just saw it flit past a cloud. Should I be worried?
It is not approaching, I reassure her, but head back to her side. The need to protect her is too strong to leave her alone. I send out a warning, but there is no response. My unease grows, and by the time I return to Emma, I am more than ready to leave this place and retreat back to our hiding spot. Let us go.
Your eyes have black in them, she tells me, studying my features. Everything okay? She reaches out to caress my scales.
I do not know what to make of the drakoni that flies near, I admit as I lower my shoulder so she can climb atop my back.
Not that near, she tells me. I can barely see him. Or her.
Near enough to touch thoughts, but there is nothing there, I tell her.
Good! I don’t want you touching thoughts with anyone but me. Her mind is full of worry. What if it’s another one of Azar’s dragons?
That is my concern. Still, this one does not act as the other did. The female from yesterday constantly sought to lock minds with me. This one acts as if she wishes to ignore me entirely. I ponder this even as Emma settles atop my back.
“It’s rising,” my mate murmurs and points up at the sky. “Look. Do you think…?”
She does not need to say it aloud. I know her thoughts as well as my own. I lift my head and we both watch as the dragon—nothing but a reddish shadow in the sky—circles higher and higher. Off in the distance, between the clouds is the Rift. It lingers like a wound in the otherwise blue sky, greenish and black and pulsing.
And the drakoni seems to be heading for it.
“One of Azar’s?” Emma whispers.
I cannot be certain. But even so, it must be. The female continues to rise higher in the skies, her wings working madly. Instinct keeps any wild-minded drakoni from flying too high. There is no wind to ride when too high up, no prey, no need to climb to a dangerous height. If the female were lost to the madness, she would not fly so high. She must be controlled by the Salorian, then.
Unease gnaws at my mind. It is only the calm touch of my Emma’s hand upon my scales that keeps me from descending into madness. She will kill herself. Already she strains to do his bidding. There is no way she will reach the Rift and survive to pass through. Memories of my own journey brush at the edges of my mind, full of insanity and pain. I edge away from them, not wanting to relive such a thing.
“Can we warn her somehow? Stop her? Without connecting your mind to hers and risking yourself?”
No. I cannot fly after her, either.
“Then all we can do is watch.” Emma’s revulsion crawls through her mind. “He’s evil to try this. She’s not strong enough to make it. Look.”
We both watch as the female shudders and slips, only to spread her wings and dip, then pumps them furiously in an attempt to regain height. Again she tries, and again, her wings give out. I feel despair—my own, that I must watch a fellow drakoni destroy themselves for another’s cruel bidding.
The female falters once more, and then the small, reddish shadow begins to coast steadily downward. Emma releases a pent-up breath. “She’s stopping.”
She has no more strength to go on, I suspect.
“Do you think he’ll make her try again?”
Yes. I know so. The thought sours my mind, bringing the madness to play back at the edges of my consciousness. Why does this seem so familiar? Why does the realization make me so sick?
“Maybe it’s something in your past,” Emma murmurs, and strokes my scales.
Her touch calms me, helps me focus. Perhaps she is right. If it is in the past, let it stay there. She is my future, and I must protect her. Come, let us return to our nest.
My mate does not protest. The female dragon and her botched flight remain in her thoughts for a long time, as they do in mine. I am not sure if I wish that I could remember…or if I am glad I have forgotten.
This morning’s events cast a shadow over the rest of the day. Emma is quiet and distracted, and when the heat of the day gets too hot, she pulls off her clothing, finds a corner and lies down on the hard cement to cool herself off.