This was something else.
Something more.
Something worse.
The ground shook as though struck by a shower of comets.
They landed all around me.
The dragons were back.
Part II
A Guest
19
Instruments of Magic
They are real.
Creatures I’ve only ever heard about in our history, from the bards gathered about fires, from the books I pored over until the pages turned brittle.
Larger than life, flesh-rippling real.
I thought they had left. Finished their foul deeds and departed.
Why are they back?
I don’t move in the swell of fog. Don’t breathe. I hold perfectly still. Not letting a peep of sound escape.
They chuff noisy breaths, their clawed feet shuddering upon the earth as they shift their great weight and move through the rubble with ease and swiftness. Surprising for creatures of such size and heft.
Although what do I know of these creatures that are not supposed to even behere? That are not supposed to exist?
Afraid to move, I resist the instinct to turn and run. That would only attract notice. I’ve already seen them take someone down who fled. I tremble at that horrific memory. It didn’t go well for her. I don’t want such a fate for myself.
After a few moments I conclude that they don’t see me, and I don’t know if it’s because theycan’tsee me—if I’m invisible tothem. Animals can see me. Would it not be the same with these monsters?
With their sharp eyes and their guttural sounds, it is obvious they communicate with each other to some degree. They are clearly a step above the animals of the forest...so maybe I’m as invisible to them as I am to human eyes.
I can only hope.
You’re invisible. You’re invisible. You’re invisible.I tell myself this, letting the mantra run over and over in my mind. My lips move with the unvoiced words.
Invisible. A wraith. An unseeable vapor.
Please, please, please.
For the first time, I’m grateful for my curse and plead to the keepers of magic that it holds fast for me with these monsters.
If theycansee me, then they eventually will. I can’t simply remain standing in their midst like a fool, hoping the fog continues to shelter me, waiting for the axe to fall.
I begin inching backward, my feet steady, sliding one after the other, slow as thawing ice. No sudden moves. A nice and easy pace. I only have to make it to the trees.
They continue pacing about, making their rough sounds, their every step jarring on the ground, the vibration reaching me, traveling up my already shaky body.
My focus is so intent uponthemthat I don’t mind my steps. My left boot comes down on a burnt bit of debris and the crunch is loud—an explosion booming in my ears, reverberating long over the smoky air.
