DAGAR
His mind groped, trying to come up with a joke, a quip for himself.
That was the way he almost always dealt with adversity and cheered himself up—with humor.
But his brain wasn’t functioning well enough for wit.
Or maybe there just wasn’t anything very funny about being carried back to a dragon’s den and eaten.
He must have drifted off again, because the next thing he knew, he was on the ground.
He shifted. Pain was there, certainly, throbbing throughout his body.
But it wasn’t the sharp pain it had been when he lay at the bottom of the cliff.
That agony had been replaced with a strange, numb, almost weightless feeling.
His clothes were wet—with some clear liquid, not just with blood.
It was between his fingers, too—a sort of thick slime.
“What the…?” he muttered.
The dragon’s big face was close to him. Its tongue lolled out again and he shied away from it, covering his face with his hands.
Stop, you! Hold still so I can get a good lick, the dragon said in his mind.
I prefer not to be licked, he thought back. I’ve been licked enough, thanks.
Then he froze as a realization washed over him. He hadn’t heard a voice in his mind—dragon or human—for months. Not since Barnard had died… because without a dragon bond, no one could use the simnal.
Therefore, if he could use the simnal…
Are we… bonded? he asked the dragon.
She hoomed contentedly. Obviously. And I’m trying to heal you, stupid human. So hold still.
Again, her slimy tongue lolled out, slathering spit across his leg this time.
Gods, that tickles, Dagar laughed. Then he frowned, thinking. Wait. Heal me…? You’re a virgis…
Of course. I’m white, aren’t I? she said, unfurling her wings proudly.
They were lovely wings, Dagar had to admit.
They had more spines than the wings of most dragons, like the spines of a Koratainian lady’s fan, and they were a beautiful pearlescent white, like the inside of an oyster shell.
Virgises were so rare, he’d never seen one this close before.
I’m bonded… to a virgis… Dagar thought, disbelief washing over him. Wait until Pocha hears this…
He shook his head. Why…? Why did you bond me?
Why not? I’ve always wanted a human, she said. I think you’re cute.
Cute…? Dagar thought. What in all the hells?
Was he to be a pet for a wild dragon? It was better than being her dinner, he supposed. And she had saved his life, he was certain of that.
But the dragon suddenly lifted her head and looked away from him, as if listening intently for something.
They’re coming! she whispered. Play dead.
“What?” Dagar said, so shocked he spoke aloud.
But the dragon’s white tail slithered up to his chest and shoved him down so he was lying flat again.
Wind washed over him, and he watched through slitted eyelids as more than fifty dragons swooped in, landing on the rocky valley floor all around them.
The largest of them—a huge, green and red sagittan—stepped forward and snorted ferociously. Shaynie, what is the meaning of this?
The white dragon—my dragon, Dagar thought with wonder—was letting him listen in on their conversation with simnal, which was awfully considerate of her.
The meaning of what, father? Dagar’s white dragon said.
You know what, the sagittan growled. This human.
What about it?
Did you heal him?
No! Shaynie said.
The big dragon growled again, fire boiling in his mouth. No? Then why is he covered in your salve, Shaynie?
Dagar’s new dragon stood up, tall and indignant. He was hurt, so I spit on him. It’s what virgises do, father.
Virgises, like all dragons, must follow the directives of the council. And the council has directed that any humans found in our lands are to be eaten—not healed.
I was about to eat him, Shaynie made a gesture almost like a human shrug. You all interrupted me.
You were going to eat me? Dagar demanded. But the virgis must not have been shielding her mind and keeping their conversation quiet, because the big sagittan’s fiery eyes snapped to him, then back to Shaynie.
You bonded this human? he asked, aghast.
I told you to keep silent, stupid, Shaynie growled to Dagar. Now you’ve gotten us both in trouble.
Well? Shaynie’s father demanded.
Shaynie looked down at the ground and casually flicked a stone with her tail.
I didn’t mean to bond him. It just happened.
Well, the big sagittan narrowed his eyes. Then surely you won’t mind eating him. Go ahead. We’ll watch.
Shaynie looked at Dagar with big, beautiful eyes that glowed yellow like sunlight.
I’m… not hungry at the moment, she said.
The sagittan gave a roar that blew Dagar’s hair out of his face and left him quivering.
All the gods, Shaynie! He snarled in their minds. You’re always healing these lame, pathetic creatures. First it was the deer.
She was pregnant!
Then those raccoons...
They were little. And burned by forest fire. And they’d lost their mother! Shaynie protested.
And there was that skunk…
Shaynie huffed. Okay. That one was a mistake…
When humans stray from their paths and enter our lands, they must be eaten, the sagittan thundered.
That is the code. We are not like our weak brethren who make themselves subservient to the Skrathan.
And this one is a Skrathan, make no mistake.
He stinks of it. And that’s why you were able to bond him so easily, no doubt.
He would put a saddle on you and ride you like a horse!
While his brothers come and hunt the delicious deer from our mountain slopes and set fire to our trees and build villages that would steal our solitude.
No, these humans are even worse than those wretched clay monsters, the golenae, that have been plaguing our lands these last few months.
And those are human creations as well. Eat him quickly, Shaynie, or I will.
Dagar sat up.
The golenae have been bothering you? They’re our enemies, too. I can show you the people who created them. We could stop them together, he suggested.
Shaynie turned to her father. Yes! You’ve been saying how much you hate the golenae.
How you’d do anything to destroy them and whatever evil force created them.
Well, there you go! Whoever it is, I’m sure they’d be much tastier than this one.
Look at these long legs. He’d be nothing but stringy meat, anyway.
She’s right, Dagar said eagerly. I’m stringy meat. But the ones who made those golenae—they’re called the Gray Brothers. I can show you where they are. We can defeat them together. I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious.
He brought his fingers to his lips and made a chef’s kiss.
The huge sagittan’s eyes narrowed, smoke of displeasure rising from his nostrils.
You two are a pair of fools, he said. But I’m listening…