“Pardon?” I marveled at the feel of grass beneath my hands, at the late morning heat, even at my own hunger, all of it taken from me and now returned. “How did it work, like a pole went up my ass, or—?”
“Quiet,” Glenda growled. People loved to use that word with me.
“No, I will not be quiet. Glenda, you just said you used my corpse as a flag. That absolutely requires follow up. And whatpossible situation . . . I’ve never in my life thought ‘Huh, this is going well, but it’d go a lot better if I had a dead guy to wave about on a pole’—oh, oh, so now you’re going to hit me? Okay.”
Glenda’s petite hand smacked me across the face. It felt like a mule kick.
“The thing about prophecies,” Glenda said, that same hand balling in my shirt collar and yanking my face to hers. “Is that they always come true. And yourboyfriendcan turn back the clock as many times as he likes, I’ll keep killing you until it sticks.” The tears that filled her eyes at that grim pronouncement told me the Passionweed must be kicking in. I could use that.
“Glenda, please, why in the world do you hate me so much?” I let my face soften, taking all the hatred and fear from it.
“Because you gave me light sensitivity!” Glenda shouted, spraying spittle into my eyes and mouth. “What, Cameron, did you think head trauma was good for people?” Snarling, heavy tears falling now, she raised Gareth’s sword to end my life again.
That’s when the dragon arrived.
The blue summer sky opened like a flower around a central black seed. It hurtled toward us at tremendous speed, erupting into a writhing black slash that blotted the sun with its flared wings. Behind it, the portal folded into itself and demurely disappeared.
Men screamed. Spitting curses, Glenda tore her eyes from the dragon, her attention returning, unfortunately, to me. Before she could complete her sword swing, something smashed into us: a unicorn, its mouth stretched into an impossible snarl, its skin dripping smooth and gelatinous.I twisted out from under the transmogrified steed, away from Glenda, who stabbed at the unicorn-turned-basilisk, again and again, flinging up gouts of stinking blood.
“As many times as it takes, Cameron!” she cried as I squirmed away. “I’ll kill you as many times as it takes!”
Freed of the basilisk’s weight, I limped to my feet and took in the chaos. The dragon wheeled, black and terrible, breathing nauseating torrents of what looked to be raw magic. Charging knights transformed into trimmed shrubbery, while flung weapons bloomed into flowers of enormous size, which defied the mood by drifting peacefully back to earth. Unicorns, rearing and bucking, became bestial in the dragon’s passing breath, pulling off their riders to sink teeth into the crevices of their armour. The earth danced and broke around me, swallowing men in sulfur-stinking gashes. A man rushed at me, yodeling with his sword out, only to disappear into a crack that promptly sealed, his sword arm protruding from the ground like some sort of bizarre plant. The hand still clutched his blade. I staggered closer and rubbed my bound hands against the sharp edge, freeing myself.
Not trusting my ankle to hold, I started crawling toward the forest—only for grass to rip free from my hands as something seized me.
“No!” I cried, which didn’t help much. Black talons circled my midriff. I pried at them, even balling my fists to strike with all my strength, but the dragon didn’t even flinch. The meadow fell away beneath us; when it grew distant enough that a drop would prove fatal, I gave up my struggle.
Attempting to look up at the dragon brought tears to my eyes, as each wingbeat displaced a stinging rush of air. Blackscales covered the beast, overlapping like those of a fish, except on its gut, where scar tissue radiated in stiff white ropes. The effects of this injury were plain; the dragon’s body was sunken and thin, its spine standing in a ridge of disturbing definition. I could hear it panting over the whistle of wind, and the leg that held me shivered with exertion. In a change of heart, I hoped fervently that itwould notdrop me, and gripped both hands around a massive toe.
My outlook improved as we passed into fog. “Are you bringing me to Merulo?” I shouted.
It angled its wings, bringing us lower. The white-cloaked ground drew rapidly closer, and I realized, too late, that this wasn’t a landing. Moments before impact, the dragon rolled, swinging me like a doll so that I experienced the collision solely through the jar and shuddering of its leg.
The claws around me loosened, and I twisted free. The short drop brought fresh fire to my ankle, but I didn’t let the pain slow me as I scuttled backward, putting distance between myself and the monster.
When it failed to move, its legs sticking into the air like some ludicrous smacked fly, I wondered if it had died on impact. Then, the rich blackness of its body contracted. Wings folded into a velvety robe. Scale melted into weak, pale flesh. In place of the primordial beast lay a familiar man.
“Oh my God, Merulo.” I staggered toward him, dropping to my knees at his side. “Someone turned you into a dragon?”
The sorcerer’s breath wheezed. I drew closer to hear his faint words. “I am a dragon, you fucking imbecile.” Having expended the last of his energy, Merulo slackened, eyes closing.
I lightly slapped his face, testing his unconsciousness,then patted him down to check for injuries. Not finding any, I sat back to attend to myself. Above my ankle, skin flapped loose over a weeping gash. The sight made me nauseous, so I decided to ignore it.
“Merulo.” I poked his sunken cheek. “Wake up. I can’t carry you.”
Two useless men, alone in the fog. At least we’d landed solidly in his territory. Despite knowing that a hunting party would soon come for us, I felt thoroughly depleted, so I lay down beside Merulo on the cool ground.
I really didn’t mean to fall asleep.
“Did you want to die again so soon?” The sorcerer’s pale, hovering face looked like something from a dream. “Honestly, leaving an open, bleeding wound. If it had nicked your fibular artery, you’d be gone. And I can’t turn back time again.” His face disappeared; I felt tugging around my ankle, something being tied. “If I’m going to waste all this energy keeping you alive, at least meet me halfway.”
Sleep called to me, the rock at my back as soft as a down-stuffed mattress, but a new sound slammed me back to alertness. I sat up, eyes wide. Beside me, the sorcerer was crying.
“I wasn’t sure if it would work,” he said. “If you’d be restored, physically intact, but remain a lifeless body.”
Feeling woozy, I groped for words to reassure him. “Apparently they used me as a flag? That’s wild.”
The sorcerer hiccuped a laugh, tears streaming from his single eye. Less than a day had passed since I’d seen him last, but he looked older. “Who would even think to do that?”
