“The Sage of Wrath, yes.” Did he... not know that? Then—
I frown toward the temple. “Where are all the priests? They wouldn’t have all been inside.”
«Dead.»
“But then—”
«I burned them to ash,» the dragon snaps.
I stare at the dragon, reeling. Had they all been dead then, truly, or did the dragon kill them?
Does it matter? Is it better if it was the dragon responsible for their deaths, rather than a sage? I mentally shy away from the question, though some part of myself deep within believes I will need to answer that question for myself.
“Then there are no burial rites to administer,” I mutter absently. That was one of the goals for the priests in getting the dampening field down.
«Better than... the Sage of Wrath waking upsurrounded by rotting corpses.»
“Wake up?”
The dragon glares at me, as if daring me to disagree.
He needn’t bother. I literally have no resolve in me right now. What would I even argue?
«I have to go,» the dragon says abruptly.
Then again, maybe I can argue after all. “Go?” I echo. “You’re just going to leave me here? Alone on a mountain?”
«Better than surrounded on a mountain,» the dragon says irritably. «I told you the priests wouldn’t be able to track you, not that you would have servants to attend your every whim.»
“That’s not—”
«Unless you want to come freeze with me at the top of the mountain while I hibernate?» he interrupts coolly.
Of course. Dragons changing form takes a lot of energy—it’s why the priests always want to force them into situations where they transform, or find them sleeping, because when they take their dragon forms they have a limited time before theyhaveto sleep. And that’s when they’re vulnerable.
Which means the dragon took an extra risk for me.
Is taking an even bigger one now, in fact, by telling me where he’s going. Although he could be lying—if he flies high enough, he’ll be out of range of my magical senses.
On the heels of that thought I notice that some of his scales are more slate, charred, than white. “Will you be able to manage?” I ask gruffly, staring at them.
The dragon flexes his scales somehow, and a cascade flows off of him onto the ground. The scales revealed beneath are still darker,more pale smoke than pearl, but they definitely look healthier.
An unexpected relief, to be glad I didn’t get a dragon hurt.
Though now of course it occurs to me that after exposing himself to me, he may wish for me to believe he is not such easy prey as that.
He doesn’t trust me any more than I trust him—less, probably.
Guilt churns inside my gut that I absolutely don’tdeservethe trust of a being who just did me an enormous boon.
«Yes,» the dragon says curtly, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. «Good luck.»
Oh, shit. “Wait, what I am I supposed to—”
With a powerful flap of his wings that blows wind and dirt into my face before I can block it, the dragon takes off.
”—do,” I finish uselessly.
