“I’m told that time passes more slowly there, so we were gone but days, not moon cycles. Since we could not distinguish night from day, I’m not certain how many days passed, but as soon as the dragons were prepared to fly back, we returned.” I’m proud of how closely I stick to the truth, without revealing anything we want to keep hidden.
Xendus growls but doesn’t refute what I said. We rehearsed our stories, in case we were split up for questioning.
“And why did you cross the veil in the first place?” The Head Klerick frowns, his face painted in suspicion.
“We hoped to discover how and why the demons have been breaching the veil.” Again, this answer is rehearsed. Not just between Xendus, Surath and I. Saxon and I also agreed to this explanation, before we flew back.
“And what of the girl?” he asks. “The blasphemous wench reported to have mounted a dragon.”
Disapproving murmurs rise and fall through the room, like the crest of a wave.
“She did not return.” Again, this is the truth, albeit not the whole truth.
“Good riddance,” the klerick says. “The witch got what she deserved, burning in perpetual Darkness. Females are not meant to ride dragons.”
If you say so, I think, but don’t say.
The Head Klerick sits.
“Father, Your Majesty—” I catch my mistake. “I would very much like to discuss a matter of great urgency with you.” Myhope has risen that my quest here could bear fruit. Given my father’s power, and seeming influence over the klericks, I’m certain he holds the keys to Saxon’s freedom. I’ll have a better chance with my father, than I’d have had with my grandfather.
“We will grant an audience with you,” the King says. “Marshal will arrange the day and time. Now, the sun has set, and it is high time we feast.”
CHAPTER 19
Rosomon
Zogar has transformed into a dragon. As his breath blazes through the air, his massive shape appears on the far side of the cave. A very large cave indeed. But then his mouth closes, and he leaves me again in the darkness.
He exhales fire again, and I glance around the very tall and deep cave.
Again, I’m in darkness.
Moments later, he exhales a third time, and I return my gaze to him, marveling at the sight of his scales, flickering as they reflect the light of his own creation.
He stops exhaling, again, but this time the light doesn’t fully disappear. His breath lit a series of torches that line the far wall of the cave.
His talons scrape the stone floor as he crosses the space toward me, but he stops halfway and turns to face another direction. There, he breathes an arc of fire, high into the air. The flames bounce back toward him, as if they’ve struck glass, or someinvisible barrier, rebounding so strongly, I fear they’ll burn him—or me.
But Zogar’s unbothered. He exhales six more fiery breaths toward the invisible barrier, each time using different angles, as if he’s using his fire to draw a pattern on whatever the flames are striking.
Then he takes a step back, and the space before me utterly transforms.
Ahead, a mountain of riches—gold, silver and gems of every imaginable form—sparkle in the light cast from the torches on the walls.
Past the hoard, lies a pool of water, and a small waterfall tumbles down from above, explaining the sound. The water has a faint red glow, so there must be a light source that reflects the sky from above. Unless the color I’m seeing is magic.
IseverythingI’m seeing magic?
“My hoard,” Zogar says with relief. “It’s still here.”
I turn from the waterfall to find his naked human form striding toward me. Lifting my gaze from his heavily bouncing rod, I take in the broad smile on his face. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Zogar looking this happy.
He pulls me into a tight hug, and I sink into his muscles, warmth and masculine scent. He releases me, takes my hand and strides toward the mountain of gold, moving so quickly I need to run to keep up.
He stops when we’re standing amongst some scattered pieces of gold at the pile’s base. Goblets, jewels, coins, ingots of gold,everywhere I look. The pile is so high, I can’t see its top from this angle, nor can I see how far back it reaches.
“Wait here.” He scrambles about ten feet up the pile. Small objects—several loose gems, and many coins—tumble down as he climbs.
