“I am Damien Hymir. I know many of you from the time before I was taken, but for those who have never met me, allow me to tell you the truth. My brother Brahm murdered my father, King Malek, in cold blood.” A gasp rises from the crowd, and then everyone grows quiet. “He colluded with Nevina and the elves to rise to power once my father was gone, and he attempted to kill my mother and my sister as well. I am pleased to share they are alive and living among the witches of Dimhollow. New Stygarde may have won the war. They may claim to lead our kingdom, but the truth is here in the hearts of the citizens who know better. We will not accept the tyranny forced on us. We will not serve a murderer and his elf bride. We will not see our children enslaved for their pleasure.”
A roar of appreciation rises up from the crowd, along with stomping feet.
Damien scans the throng of mountain dwellers as they quiet down again. “I have only one question for you. Will you join the resistance? Will you fight? Will you help me take back your kingdom?”
A few people clap, but not nearly as many as who applauded before. Anyone can sense the change in the room. People go back to their meals, their eyes shifting.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Damien lowers himself into his chair beside me, looking confused. He swigs his ale, still staring at the crowd.
“They’re just afraid,” I tell him.
He pops a round yellow fruit into his mouth. “They can’t afford to be afraid. If we’re going to win back the kingdom, we can’t do it alone.”
I sigh. “Maybe they just need to grow to trust you. They need time to develop confidence in your ability to win.”
Seamus leans over as servers bring in trays of meat and vegetables. “These families have already sacrificed their children to New Stygarde, Damien. Not only do they fear for their own lives, but they also fear for those who might be used as pawns by Brahm and his elf whore. You can count on us mountain dwellers to provide your army with weapons. But you’ll have to get your soldiers somewhere else. My people have spoken.”
Damien stares down at his food. “I thank you, Seamus, for giving us refuge here and for the promise of weapons, but swords are only useful if we have men to bear them.”
Tension rises in the warm air, and Seamus focuses on his meal. I place a hand on Damien’s thigh. “Give it time. We will find a way. We will build an army.”
“Every day we wait is another day more shades die of starvation or from overwork in the fields. Another day that Brahm disparages my father’s memory by sitting on his throne.”
I’m relieved to get back to our chambers at the end of the evening. The food was delicious, but now, in this heat, it sits in my stomach like a lead weight. Still, it’s refreshing to lie down in a real bed in a safe room. Before long, I am fast asleep.
Until the sound of a bird singing wakes me. Beside me, Damien remains asleep, his breath steady. Although there are no windows, my instincts tell me that the moon hasn’t risen. I try to fall back asleep, but the singing seems to call to my very marrow. Like silver bells, the sound sends goose bumps marching across my skin, not because it is haunting but because it is purer than anything I have known, like the sound of sunlight, if you could hear such a thing.
Quietly, I slip out of bed and then peek into the hall. Every direction is abandoned. I don’t see a single person in these halls, but the singing comes again.
Wide awake now, I follow the sound, checking in both directions as I navigate the halls, seeking out the source. The song leads me through a dark tunnel and then down into the belly of the mountain, where I find the forge in which the mountain dwellers make weapons. The Stygian steel cooling on the racks reflects the light of the flowing lava, and I marvel at the craftsmanship. Still, the song calls to me like a siren’s.
Sweating and heart pounding from the heat, I leave the forge and descend through a small, roughhewn passageway that is somehow even hotter than where I’ve come from. My nightgown is drenched and sticks to my body, but I’m compelled forward. Somewhere, there is a bird singing in this mountain, singing a song I must hear.
I draw a deep breath when the passageway opens to a cavern even bigger than the Great Hall. Only, this is no place for entertaining guests. It’s dusty and cluttered with animal bones picked clean and left to gather cobwebs. I wonder if this might have been used as a place to dispose of kitchen scraps at one time. Still, the song calls me forward.
It is in the adjacent, smaller chamber, with only the glow of a small stream of lava to light the room, that I find the egg. It’s a shiny, pearlescent white with a bumpy shell, as if someone wrapped a string of pearls into an egg shape. The sound I’m hearing is louder here, closer. But it isn’t coming from the egg itself. I step between two columns of stone to get a better view and gasp.
Bones the size of a dinosaur’s wrap around the egg, still covered in scales that glint in the fiery light. Carefully, I pick my way around rough terrain to reach the skull, my soaked nightgown hitched high. I place a hand in the creature’s eye socket, an eye that would be bigger than my entire head if she were alive.
This is real. This is the skeleton of the dragon that started a war. The dragon Brahm said had disappeared and was never seen again. She must have brought her egg here to hatch it but died in the process.
I stroke the bony projections of the horns, tears welling in my eyes. “You were the best mama,” I say to her. “I’m sorry they scared you. I’m sorry you lost your baby.”
A flash of silver catches in the corner of my eye, and I wipe my tears before turning to see what it is. A woman, translucent and black-and-white, the color of newsprint, with silver pinprick eyes, stands beside the pile of bones. I haven’t seen her in so long, my heart leaps.
“Grams?” I cry. She smiles and blows me a kiss.
Her lips start to move, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Her hands are on her chest as she babbles silently, and then she points at me. I can’t hear any of it.
“Please, I don’t understand,” I say to her.
She stops and then deliberately turns and points to the pile of bones.
I stare at her and then at the dragon’s corpse. An idea so big and so powerful kindles within me. But no… Is it even possible? A dragon is so much bigger than a clock or a fox. How can my power be big enough to animate something like that? It’s impossible.
My grams frowns and shakes her head. She points at me and then at the bones. The light in her eyes seems to say, Don’t you dare make yourself small again, Eloise.
I nod. “Okay, Grams. I’ll try.”
