When he mutters again, my head shoots up.
Dain.
But Dain wasn’t supposed to return until after midnight. That’s why Wilmot was taking third watch—so he could wait for Dain.
There’s no doubt now who I heard. Something has gone wrong. Dain had to leave early, and he’s running back to camp, and he doesn’t realize the dragon is stalking him.
I wheel toward the others.
They’re fast asleep, and I’d waste precious time explaining. Malric is already up and coming to my side. Jacko is right there. Doscach and Sunniva are asleep in a clearing, too far away for me to summon, and I can’t risk the dragon deciding they’d make a fine substitute for Dain.
I run as fast as I can. I don’t worry about making noise. Better if I do. It might distract the dragon or even wake Wilmot and Alianor. I crash through the undergrowth, and Malric does the same, as if understanding my logic.
“Dain!” I shout. “Dragon!”
Only the crashing answers. Dain’s racing through the forest, and when I dash out from a stand of trees, I can see him. We’d camped in the woods, but he’s running through an open area that he needs to cross to get to us. That’s why the dragon can see him.
“Dain!” I shout, waving my arms. “Dragon!”
He hears me then, his head shooting up.
“What?” he says, slowing.
“No! Run! Drag—!”
A roar cuts me short, and Dain spins and stumbles. As he does, I see something clutched in his arms. A black sphere as big as Jacko.
Dain has the dragon egg. That’s why he’s early—he had a chance to snatch it.
That’s also why the dragon is chasing him.
“Put it down!” I shout. “Put the egg down and run!”
He’s off and running, but with the egg still in his arms. He’s seen the dragon, and now he’s bending to lower the egg to the ground, and I’m running at him as fast as I can, Malric ahead of me, Jacko trumpeting his alert cry. And the dragon is swooping. Swooping so fast she’s a black blur, talons outstretched.
“Dain!”
I don’t even get his name out before she strikes. There is blackness. Nothing but blackness, a shadow that seems to swallow Dain whole and then she’s winging up again, taking to the sky…and the meadow is empty.
A cry. A cry of panic and shock, and I follow it up to see Dain clutched in the dragon’s talons. I run after them, my sword out, shouting for her to bring him back, that she can have the egg, we don’t want the egg. The night swallows Dain’s cries as the dragon keeps rising into the sky.
And then she is gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I run. I don’t have time to return to the others. I try to send Malric back, but he ignores me. I’m running for Mount Gaetal, and I will not stop.
I find the river easily—I can hear the running water—and follow it to the mountain’s base, where I locate the pool. Before I jump in, I check to be sure my sword is secured. A rustling in the bushes has me jumping, even as Malric only glances in that direction.
Alianor steps through, breathing hard from running.
I exhale. “Good. Can you tell Wilmot that Dain’s been taken? I’m going after him.”
“I’m coming with you.”
I shake my head. “I need you to—”
“I’m not one of your hunters, Rowan. I don’t need to obey your commands. Wilmot will figure it out or he won’t. Better for you to have me at your side.”
“Take Jacko. He can’t swim. Keep him here—”
She folds her arms over her chest. “I am not babysitting your jackalope. I’m coming with you. He’ll come or he’ll stay.”
There’s no time to argue. Every heartbeat is another moment when Dain might die.
“Follow me, then. It’s dark, but try—”
She hands me something from her pack. It’s a hair clip I gave her—not the jeweled one, but one woven with a firebird feather. It picks up the moonlight and glows like a flame.
“Wear that,” she says. “I’ll be able to follow you. Now get in there and swim.”
I try to leave Jacko on the shore. He won’t hear of it. He climbs onto my back and clings there. When Malric tries to pull him off, the jackalope hisses, but Malric only bends his forequarters, telling Jacko to ride on his back. Then we’re off.
I don’t think about how I’ll find the other side. If I do, I’ll panic. I just keep going until I judge I’ve swum as far as Doscach did. Then I rise and surface in the cavern.
We all climb out, soaking wet and shivering. Alianor and I left our boots on the shore—they’d only weigh us down—so we’re walking barefoot. As I move, I wring out my hair and clothing, but I keep moving, straight for that tunnel.
Jacko runs on ahead, leading the way. Alianor follows me, with Malric at the rear. We don’t speak. We just move as fast as we can.
I’m trying not to think of what we’ll find at the end of this tunnel. If only Dain had dropped the egg. But maybe if he had, the dragon would have killed him for stealing it. My hope—my fervent, deepest hope—is that his panic subsided enough for him to strategize, and as soon as the dragon released her hold, he made a run for it.
I want to round a corner and see him racing toward me. He knows the tunnel exists. He knows not to run out to the ledge, which is a sheer and deadly drop.
I hope we’ll barrel into him as he flees, and then we can escape together.
With every step, that hope fades. I don’t hear his running footfalls, and soon I do hear other sounds—those of the dragon and her young.
I force myself to stop and whisper to Alianor. We’re coming up on that side tunnel where the juvenile
