Chapter 42 Greta #2
‘Aren’t you tired of being used by Alarik for his own gain and glory?’ He curled his lip, revealing the depth of his own resentment. ‘Wouldn’t you rather sit at a queen’s right hand than be a king’s plaything?’
Greta’s spine stiffened. ‘I would rather serve my country and its beasts with devotion than sell out to a grasping, war-mongering queen.’
‘I hope it was worth it,’ he sneered.
Likewise, she thought, praying her plan would work.
All around them, the mountain creaked, the cavern walls trembling badly now. Water dripped from the ceiling and dampened her hair as she turned her back on Elias and made for the other wing.
She stopped at a wall of ice, drawn to three gold ornaments glittering from within.
Dragon eggs, whispered a voice inside her.
Another wonder. They were frozen so deep, it would take months to free them. Unless the dragon breathed her fire on the ice, but then the entire scaffold would turn to water and the ceiling would cave in, burying them all.
Greta dragged her gaze away from the frozen eggs.
The rock on this side was slicker, her feet losing purchase every couple of steps.
Twice she slipped and had to start again, her ankle screaming in protest. She refused to give up.
Not while the dragon’s gaze burned into her back, hope taut as a bowstring between them.
She reached the stake and gave a sharp tug.
The dragon stiffened, sending a blast of fire to the ceiling.
Elias shouted as a hail of rock fell, ducking to narrowly avoid it. Greta hugged the wall, waiting for the onslaught to pass. Growing desperate, she tugged the stake again.
The dragon whipped her head around, huffing smoke at her. A warning.
She burst into song.
‘Your fire is yearning, your fire is brave,
I feel it burn for the freedom you crave.
Soon, you will fill the whole sky with your roar,
Together we’ll win you the freedom to soar.’
The dragon blinked, then slowly settled.
It was now or never. Greta reached up with both hands, the oil lamp sliding down to her shoulder and smacking her in the chin. She gritted her teeth as she grabbed hold of the stake, stepping off the ledge and hanging her entire weight on the end.
Sweat stung her eyes and moistened her hands. But she held on tight as the stake cut into her palms. It yielded with a rasping screech, freeing the wing and Greta with it. She tumbled to the ground, the stake accidentally dragging at the wound.
The dragon reared up, her spiralling horns slamming into the ceiling.
‘NO!’ Rubble came like rain, slamming into Greta’s arms and back as she covered her head. It pinned her to the ground as a rattling boom reverberated through the mountains.
The dragon beat its wings in panic, causing more rock to cascade from the walls.
‘Stop!’ cried Greta, trying to dig her way out. ‘You’re burying us!’
It was too late. The boulders trapping Greta were impossibly heavy, and at least three deep. They made a tomb around her armour, her oil lamp flickering pathetically as it went out.
Elias cursed, his oil lamp flickering nearby. From what Greta could see, he was still on his feet. ‘That damned beast is too wild. It’s bringing the walls down.’
‘Help!’ said Greta, desperately struggling for breath. ‘The rocks are crushing me.’
Elias backed away. ‘This was a mistake,’ he muttered. ‘You can’t save that crazed beast. No one can.’
Rocks had fallen across the mouth of the tunnel, partially blocking the way out. Elias cast his sword aside and started shoving them out of the way. The dragon drew back, smashing its wings against the walls in a panic.
‘Come back!’ yelled Greta. ‘You can’t leave me here like this!’
‘You had your chance,’ he said, without turning around. He was too busy desperately kicking his way through the fallen rocks. ‘You failed.’ With most of the boulders now dislodged, Elias picked up his oil lamp and made to slip into the tunnel.
Only to meet the point of a glimmering sword.
Greta rasped a breath, hope fluttering desperately in her chest. Were her eyes deceiving her? Was the sudden lack of airflow toying with her mind?
Alarik’s voice echoed through the tavern. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
Elias backed up, his hands rising in defence. ‘The mountain is coming down, cousin.’
‘Careful with that word, Elias.’ Light bloomed at the entrance to the cavern as Alarik stepped inside, keeping his sword raised. ‘I can see now family means nothing to you.’
Elias stumbled, falling at the king’s feet. ‘Not as much as respect.’
‘Or coin, I imagine. A title, I’m sure.’
Elias didn’t deny it.
Alarik curled his lip. ‘You should have come to me.’
‘What would you have given me, beyond the scorn of the Felsings?’ Elias shot back. ‘The family that has shunned me from birth, denied me the riches and title that have always been rightfully mine?’
‘I suppose we’ll never know now.’ Holding his burning torch aloft, Alarik looked down on his cousin in disgust. ‘Seeing as you’re Regna’s spymaster, I’ll be killing you either way.’
Elias scrunched his eyes shut as Alarik’s blade met the point of his chin.
Through his teeth, the king said, ‘Where is my wrangler?’
Greta’s vision was fading fast, her lungs choked on ash and dust. She tried to call out to Alarik, but no sound came. He wouldn’t spot her here in the fallen rubble, hidden by shadows and rock. Not until it was too late.
A smoky huff made Alarik raise his head.
The dragon crept forward.
With his torch flickering before him, Alarik looked up, into the ancient, glittering eyes of a long-extinct beast, and said, in a strangled voice, ‘A dragon, then.’ His throat bobbed. ‘Good. Great.’ Another swallow. ‘Forgive the intrusion.’
The beast cocked its mighty head, and with her fading mind, Greta sensed it was taking the measure of him.
Seeming to make its decision, it swung its head in her direction and released a breath of fire. Enough light to make the shadows around Greta fall away.
‘Greta?’ cried Alarik, forgetting all about the traitor at his feet.
He flew to her without a second thought, tossing the torch aside as he came to his knees. Groaning from the effort, he lifted the boulder from her chest and began unburying her from the rocks. She gasped an inhale, coughing the dust from her lungs.
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Are you badly hurt? Can you breathe?’
‘Barely,’ she huffed. Her chest was badly constricted, and her legs were pinned, but her armour had prevented her ribcage from shattering.
‘All right, wildling,’ he said, keeping his voice steady as he unburied her, but she could see the panic in his eyes. He was lifting and hurling rocks with the strength of ten men, barely pausing to breathe. ‘I’m getting you out. I’m getting you home.’
Alarik was so distracted by freeing her, he didn’t notice Elias scrabbling for his fallen sword.
Greta eked a ragged shout. ‘Watch out.’
Alarik turned just in time, narrowly avoiding Elias’s strike. He was on his feet in the next heartbeat, running for his own sword. Their blades met in a blinding clash, once and then again.
In the flickering half-light, they looked like ghosts.
Alarik was the stronger of the pair, but Elias was quick on his feet and fighting to kill.
Greta could feel the dragon’s growing impatience, her glittering eyes assessing the men as they fought, as though she was deciding which one to incinerate.
Seized by a growing urgency, Greta set about unburying her legs.
Alarik had removed the heaviest rocks, allowing her enough movement to finish the job.
When she clambered out of the rubble, they were still fighting.
Alarik had drawn blood – a gash in Elias’s side and another on his left shoulder, but his cousin was not going down easily.
Greta grabbed her fallen oil lamp.
The dragon began to pace, smoke swirling around her nostrils as she turned on Elias. But the men moved too quickly, circling each other as a great gust of dragon fire swept across the cavern.
Alarik was thrown on to his back. Elias, who had been flattened against a nearby wall, regained his footing quicker. He leaped at the king, just as Greta lunged at him, swinging her oil lamp with reckless abandon.
It slammed into his temple.
He staggered to the side, then collapsed on the ground with a grunt.
His eyes fluttered closed.
They rounded on him as the mountains keened. The dragon roared, but the warning had come too late. The ceiling was falling in.
Alarik grabbed Greta, pushing her back against the wall and covering her body with his own. Rocks pummelled him, swift and merciless, until he sagged against her, groaning into her neck. She tried to hold him up, but he slid to the ground in a heap.
‘Alarik!’ She rolled him over, but his eyes were closed, his face ashen. He was bleeding badly, his breath coming in laboured wheezes.
She turned her face up to the dragon, tugging desperately on that bond between them.
Help me.
Please.
The beast stretched, making a shield of her wings as more rocks fell, sealing off the tunnel. The mountains were buckling. They had to get out of here. Now.
Greta tipped her head back, squinting into the groaning dark. She couldn’t climb with Alarik on her back, but maybe they could fly. She grabbed her dagger and crawled to that last shackle, her fingers shaking as she jammed the blade into the lock.
‘Hang on!’ she yelled, as much to herself as the dragon and the king. ‘We’re getting out of here!’
The dragon grunted, seemingly urging her to hurry. Greta held her breath, every muscle in her body going taut. Each falling boulder brought them one step closer to death. Even the dragon wouldn’t be able to withstand this battering for long.
Breathe, Greta.
Focus.
The lock yielded with a click. She ripped the shackle free, and the dragon roared, not in fear this time, but triumph. The beast stepped on to a mound of rubble, her wings twitching. A warm breeze stirred the cavern.
‘Wait!’ cried Greta, scrabbling out from under her. She crawled back to Alarik, dragging his lifeless body back to the beast. Tears striped her cheeks and strangled her voice as she looked up into those ancient, frosted eyes. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I can’t leave him.’
Greta would sooner cut out her own heart.
The dragon snuffed, her head swooping low to take his collar in her mouth. In one fluid, heart-stopping movement, she yanked Alarik off the ground and tossed him up on to her back.
Greta scrabbled up after him, the thickened scales working like narrow footholds.
She threw herself on top of Alarik’s lifeless body, pinning him between two large ridges as she grabbed hold of the dragon’s spiralling horn.
There came a sudden blast of heat, and then a wall of fire so high, it lit up the blackness overhead.
Somewhere beneath them, Elias’s body burned and burned.
Greta couldn’t bring herself to regret it as she stared up into the yawning dark, praying with every inch of her heart, that somehow, they would find their way through it.
The dragon climbed up the rubble, flexing her wings wider and higher.
When she found the space she needed, she flapped once, twice, gathering air beneath her.
With a determined huff, she pushed off the mound, Greta’s stomach swooping as they dipped to one side.
But the beast soon found her rhythm, reclaiming her balance as she rose up, up, up into the unknown.
The mountain narrowed, the stone trembling as it closed in around them.
They could only go back down or crash head first into the rock face.
Greta squeezed her eyes shut as the wall loomed closer, but the dragon simply ducked her head and loosed an onslaught of flame so powerful it blasted everything before them into smithereens.
Greta pressed her forehead to Alarik’s chest, listening to the faint thrum of his heart as the world exploded into rock and fire and smoke and—
Air.
Somehow, there was air.
Crisp and bracing and scattered with snowflakes.
The wind howled as it slammed into Greta. She held on tightly to Alarik as she raised her head, her eyes streaming with relief when she realized they were no longer in the mountain but the wide bowl of the sky.
Not falling. Soaring.
Far below them, the spires of Grinstad glinted in the morning sun.
Nobles and servants crowded the front lawn to look up at the sky, screaming at the sight above them – an ancient dragon, rising on pearlescent wings from the crumbling mountains.
And on her back, the ferocious king and dauntless wrangler who had dared to free her.
Slowly, seamlessly, their fear turned to wonder.
It was magic, this moment.
A return to the Gevra of old, and the beginning of a new era.
For now came the age of dragons.