hissing shriek bursting from its throat even as Lional, still laughing, cried aloud in glee.
Desperately Gerald clutched at the knobbly protrusions at the base of the dragon's wings and concentrated on breathing, just breathing, because fear was a fire in his chest, consuming oxygen. Consuming him. He closed his eyes.
Lional's merciless hand clasped his shoulder. 'Don't be afraid, Gerald! We won't let you fall. Look! Lookl'
Reluctantly, he obeyed. Rising before him was the dragon's crimson and emerald neck, round as a tree trunk and just as solid. The crested spines lay flat to its hide, their poison quiescent. On either side ol him the giant wings rose and fell, rose and fell; he could feel the slick slide of bone and muscle between his wide-stretched legs as the dragon's rib cage expanded and contracted, each stroke cleaving the air with a crack like thunder. The cold air streamed into his eyes and all his exposed flesh chilled.
And then he looked down… and the fear returned, roaring, to burn his churning insides to ashes.
They'd left the hidden valley far behind. Beneath them unrolled field after field of grain, of grazing cattle and somnolent sheep. Farmers toiled, slaves to the rhythms of the natural world. As the dragon passed overhead, roaring and lashing its tail, they looked up… Heart breaking, he saw terror and disbelief contort all their faces, human and animal alike. Plough horses screamed and bolted, cows stampeded, the sheep huddled shoulder to shoulder and bleated their distress.
Then he cried out as the dragon dived lower, neck outstretched, mouth wide and gaping. Behind him, Lional was breathless with laughter. 'Not yet, my lovely, hold your hunger at bay! We shall feed soon, I promise you sweet one! We shall feed till our belly bursts with blood!'
The dragon wheeled away, head swinging from side to side in grumbling resentment. Gerald wanted to turn back, to shout his warnings and his regrets to the tiny fleeing figures on the ground far below. Fresh guilt seared him, churned his guts and spasmed his legs about the dragon's heaving sides.
Now in New Ottosland there'd be widespread panic… running and screaming and lives plunged into terrified chaos… and it was all his fault.
/ should've made him kill me. I slwuld'vc found a way.
Then, as he continued to clutch at the base of the beast's wings, he thought he felt something. Or heard it. Two voices whispering on the far edge of reason. One human, one not. Closing his eyes again he strained to hear what the voices were saying.
Behind him Lional was crooning again, a ceaseless, sibilant, disconcerting song. Startled, he recognised it as the human voice he could feel through his contact with the dragon's hot hide.
Which meant the other voice belonged to the dragon. No words, there. Just a burning stream of thought and feeling, like lava flowing down a mountainside.
As the countryside unrolled beneath them like a map unfurling, as fields surrendered to houses and paved roads, he tried to see and hear more clearly… and was startled almost into falling to his death.
Lional and the dragon's voices — their minds — were twining like two separate cords, crimson and black, weaving and counterweaving through and about each other to form one dissoluble thread. Soon there would be no unravelling one from the other. They would be a single entity, a unified intelligence. A man-dragon. A dragon- man.
Despite the seething fear and the pain as he blistered his fingers on the dragon's wings, Gerald turned around. Lional's face was frozen in an expression of bliss, lips soundlessly framing the words he could still hear as faint echoes in his reeling mind.
'Stop it, Lional!' he shouted. 'You're losing yourself! The sympathetica — it's backfiring! Break free of the dragon while you still — '
And then he cried out in terror, because Lional's hand was anchored to his shirt collar and Lional's inhumanly strong arm was lifting him off the dragon's back — was dragging him over the dragon's side — was dangling him above the roofs of the houses passing beneath them. His shirt collar was strangling him, his bare flailing feet kicked at thin air. Then Lional hauled him back again and settled him safely behind the dragon's wings.
'Hush, Gerald,' he whispered. 'Didn't your mother tell you? It's rude to interrupt.'
Speechless, Gerald clung to the dragon and stared at the ground beneath the creature's belly. At the horse-drawn carriages milling in disarray on every street of the capital. At the pointing, shouting people of New Ottosland whose lives were being torn to pieces even as they clutched one another, weeping, or ran away as though running could save them.
The dragon swooped down on them, its terrible jaws open, fire and poison falling like rain. Gerald stared, sick with horror.
Fire? Fire? How can there he fire? It was only a lizard, it couldn't breatheJlamesl
Except that everyone knew dragons breathed fire. In every story ever written about dragons, in every painting ever put on canvas, there was the dragon… and there were the flames.
/ did this. I changed the lizard to fit my imagination. I didn't know I could do that. I can't believe I made things worse…
He heard the screaming, smelled the smoke of carriages burning, horses burning, people… burning. Saw them burning, silhouettes of flame.
'Lional, nol What are you doing? Those are your subjects, you took an oath to protect them!'
Lional said nothing, he was communing with his dragon. The beast swooped lower, almost skimming the ground. Its massive tail lashed side to side, smashing the nearest buildings to rubble, splintering trees like so much kindling, tossing men and women and carriage horses through the air as though they were made of paper. Perhaps they were.They burned like paper.
Gerald hid from the sight behind one blistered hand, overwhelmed by annihilating grief. It's my fault. It's my fault. I was right. I'm a murderer.
With a last roaring cry the dragon wheeled away from the city and headed back to the hidden valley. As they left the chaotic streets and the broken buildings and the dead and those mourning them far behind Lional fell silent, along with the dragon. Because they had nothing further to say, or because they no longer needed speech, Gerald didn't know. He didn't want to know.
The dragon landed like thistledown at the mouth of the cave. Lional pushed Gerald to the ground and stared down at him disdainfully from the dragon's high back.
Shivering like a man with fever he staggered to his feet. 'Lional, why did you do that? Why did you attack your sovereign subjects?'
Lional shrugged. The dragon shrugged with him. 'Because we wanted to. Because it amused us. Because we are their king and they are ours to play with.'
We. Us. He didn't want to think about that…'It was wrong. They were innocent. And they're not yours, you don't own them.'
Lional and his dragon sighed. 'Ah, Gerald. We hoped you would see. We hoped at last you would understand. But you do not. Your thoughts to us are clear as glass, and empty. No greatness in you for all your powers. You are puny and your purpose is served. Crawl into your cage and wait for us, little man. We will return when you are required.'
I could refuse. I could defy him. The dragon would kill me and this would be over.
Except he couldn't. That would be taking the coward's way out. As long as he lived there was a chance… no matter how remote… of somehow finding a way to stop Lional. To undo the damage. To make good, in part at least, his terrible mistakes.
He backed up slowly till he stood once more in his rocky prison. 'When will that be? When will I be… required… again?'
'We do not know.' As Lional smiled, poison dripped smoking from the dragon's open mouth. 'But we do have news for you. We saved it for this moment.' 'What news?' 'The bird has returned.'
Reg. Disbelieving joy surged through him, momentarily banishing grief. 'She came back? She's all right? Can I see her?'
Lional's smile widened; the dragon hissed. 'If you like.' He snapped his fingers and a moment later was holding something limp. Feathered. Dangling. Lional tossed it. There was a thud as it landed in the dirt at Gerald's feet. He couldn't look at it.
Lional stroked the dragon's crimson and emerald hide. All its spines stood upright, glistening. 'Yes, my
