“Then, isn’t it high time for you to usehim,” I say as calmly as I can.
Even in this grayness, it’s clear the man’s face is bright red. If she strangles him much longer, he’ll be dead.
“You’re wasting time!” Rosomon shouts. “Both of you. Every minute we spend here in Lymbo is thirty minutes in the Light.”
Ersot releases the man’s throat. Treacher pushes her off him and quickly scrambles to his feet. Once upright, he tries to hide the evidence of his obviously stiffened cock. Apparently, nearingdeath at the hands of a large naked woman proved exciting for this man. I chuckle.
Rosomon looks up at me and frowns.
Ersot stretches, working out the kinks of the centuries she spent in dragon form, and then crosses her arms over her breasts as she bows her head toward Rosomon. “Apologies, my queen.”
Rosomon tenses at my side.
“Someone tell me what the thrix—” Treacher turns toward Rosomon. “What’s going on? Why are you in color, while I’m all grey?”
“I’m not sure about that part.” Rosomon shakes her head. “I was grey the first time I came here, too. But that’s not important. We need to get back. We need to save Saxon.”
CHAPTER 42
Zogar
Joined by Surath and Ersot, I swoop repeatedly over the buildings of camp and the fields that lie between those buildings and the dragon prison.
I lay down another long stream of fire, burning lines in the grasses, threatening the humans, and Rosomon tenses above me. We agreed that I would avoid unnecessary killing.
I’m the only one of the dragons in flight who has a rider atop them, but none of the humans on the ground have figured that out. They will know the truth soon enough, but part of our plan depends on the humans believing that Ersot’s rider, Treacher, is in the air. Before we flew back through the veil, I agreed to a plan suggested by Treacher. It’s a good plan, and Rosomon thinks we can trust him.
While Surath, Ersot and I distract everyone from the air, Treacher and Xendus will enter the dungeon and free Saxon. Surath wanted to be the one to go with Treacher, but he pointed out that there is no chance a woman would be allowed anywhere near the building. I suggested they pretend that she’s Treacher’sservant, or a concubine he’s bringing to service Saxon, but no one else agreed with that plan, so I conceded.
Several more dragons have taken flight, and they race toward us, Nyxarious in the lead.
What’s happening?she asks me.
I have many questions for her. She’s carrying a human who’s definitely our enemy, so I save my questions for now.
We’re distracting the humans.
Tell me how I can help.Nyx shoots a long stream of fire that paints the outside wall of the camp’s barracks with fire, and her rider, the one they call Roule, fights against her.
I communicate with the other dragons in flight, telling them to disobey their riders’ wishes and join me in terrorizing the humans on the ground. Not one dragon questions my orders, and our bodies paint lines of flashing scales across the sky, as our breath lights the ground ablaze and stains it with ash.
What’s that?I ask Rosomon as we fly over an open courtyard at camp.I don’t remember that structure.
“It wasn’t there before,” she tells me. “It’s hard to tell from up here, but it looks like a large shrine to Othrix.”
Anger bubbles inside me. I should burn this effigy to the ground. Turn it into a lump of molten metal.
It’s new,Nyxarious tells me.My rider is very proud of it. It was a gift of thanks from someone he calls prime klerick.
We swoop over the courtyard again. I don’t understand how these humans became so superstitious and enthralled by the image of a simple manticore. This world of Light, createdfor them during the Great Separation, was designed to guard against such things. We believed that, with no Darkness to threaten them, these mortals would not feel the need for imaginary gods to protect them.
Clearly, we were wrong.
Nyxarious swoops low over the courtyard, and her talons come close to touching the long sharp spire at the top of the statue.
I should knock it over,she says.Show them their god has no power.
Her rider is shouting and straining against her, rage and fear on his face.
