Zogar’s grip tightens around me. “How is that possible? How much time has passed here?”
“It’s eleven moon cycles, since the six of us entered Lymbo together,” Surath replies. “And close to six, since we last saw you there. For almost all of that time, neither of us has had a human on our pommel.”
I drag in a shuddering breath. Six months? Where are Saxon and Tynan? And why haven’t they been riding? My mouth won’t form the words, and I hope Zogar will ask for me.
“So, you have freednoneof our people,” Zogar says as if he doesn’t believe it.
“Without our riders’ assistance, we lacked the ability to explain the process to other humans.”
“And we’ve kept our distance from the dragon prison,” Xendus adds.
“We didn’t want humans to see us without riders,” Surath moves closer to Xendus.
“We considered telling the other dragons to fly through the veil, without their riders’ consent.” Her gaze flicks toward mine then back to Zogar. “But they, too, have been rarely mounted, and other developments lead me to conclude we should await your return before taking action.”
I’m trembling now, my knees shaking.
“Let’s sit,” Zogar says. “My wife has endured a great ordeal.”
Surath frowns. “What happened?” she asks Zogar and then looks at me with concern in her eyes.
“That’s not important,” I cut in before Zogar can answer. “Not right now. Where are Saxon and Tynan?”
The four of us sit in the field of flowers and Tymothy grass. Zogar pulls me to sit on his lap, gently holding me on one strong thigh, his hand slowly stroking my back as we face Xendus and Surath.
“Why have Saxon and Tynan refused to mount you?” Zogar asks.
Twisting, I look up at him, shocked at his assumption, even though it’s more hopeful than the possibilities running through my mind. Zogar doesn’t make eye contact, but his jaw twitches. He’s tense.
Surath turns toward me, a flash of true empathy in her eyes that increases my fear that both men are dead.
“The moment we landed in the Light,” she says, calmly, “Saxon was accused of heresy. He was captured and taken away in chains.”
My heart stops. “Is he alive?” My throat closes around my question. The punishment for heresy is death.
“He’s alive.”
I curl up in Zogar’s arms, feeling like I might break without his strength and support. “Where is he?”
Surath leans toward me. “According to Ersot, Saxon is held in a dungeon.”
Ersot?“Treacher’s dragon?”
She nods. “They are rarely in the air these days, but according to Ersot and her rider, Saxon remains alive, but?—”
“But what?” I straighten. I need to draw on every bit of my waning courage. I must save Saxon.
“Humans are barbaric.” Surath’s red hair flies up around her. “Saxon is being starved. Beaten.”
My throat closes again, but more determination rises inside me.
“Ersot’s rider has been trying to free him,” Surath says, “but he’s lost power at camp.”
An inconsistency in her story pokes into me. “If you two have been avoiding camp, how have you communicated with Ersot?” The only part of Surath’s story I want to believe, is that Saxon’s alive.
She seems unbothered by my question. “Xendus and I have flown close enough to Ersot to allow communication,” she says.“Ersot limited her rider’s sight, so he hasn’t seen us in the air without riders.”
I nod, grateful that Surath didn’t explode with anger when I questioned her. “Did you say that Master Treacher lost power?” I shift on Zogar’s thigh. “And that he’s trying to help Saxon?”
