Chapter 39
Rosomon
Zogar takes my hand and beams down at me. He doesn’t seem alarmed about Ersot’s arrival, but he doesn’t know Treacher like I do. “We should stay hidden. Treacher will send others.”
Zogar studies my face as if he can see inside me, and Surath steps up to join us.
“My wife doesn’t trust Ersot’s rider.” Zogar says to Surath. “What is your opinion?”
“I believe this rider can be trusted.” She shrugs. “Based on what Ersot has told me. But our communication has been limited and difficult, given we needed to remain hidden from her rider, and they have not been in the air very often.”
Everyone keeps using female pronouns for Treacher’s dragon, and I can’t help but smile. Treacher was always certain that his large dragon is male, and I hope I get to see his expression when he finds out he’s wrong.
“Rosomon and I will take to the sky,” Zogar says. “I must speak to Ersot again, before we allow them to land. Come, my love.” He lifts me into his arms and races quickly through the forest. “Do you agree with this plan?” he asks as we head toward the flower-filled fields.
“I do. Treacher is harsh, but Ersot must know his thoughts.”
We reach the edge of the forest. Zogar strides away from me, quickly shifts, and then prepares his wing for mounting. I scramble up, and the moment I’m on his pommel, his knot expands. We lift into the air, and our combined vision and hearing kick in immediately.
Treacher is angry, his scarred face red and full of fury. “I know the girl has returned!” he shouts. “I must talk to her. Land, you stubborn beast!”
My chest tightens. I was right not to trust him. Assuming Treacher wants to capture me, reinforcements will soon follow.
“There!” Treacher says triumphantly. “I told you! There she is!” His expression shifts from anger to jubilation, and more distrust clamps around my chest. Treacher wants to turn me in to the klericks. Likely to gain their favor and regain his standing at camp.
I’ll won’t let that happen, my queen, Zogar says. Let me talk to Ersot. I’ll relay all she tells me.
Zogar becomes silent in my mind, and we circle the field several times, swooping over and under Ersot’s path. Treacher’s face sends chills running through me, as it always has, but each time we make eye contact, his expression confounds me.
He’s shouting, but Zogar and Ersot are blocking our ability to communicate. But instead of the disdain I’m used to from Treacher, he seems excited and happy to see me.
Since we can’t communicate, I choose to ignore him.
Waiting for Zogar and Ersot to finish talking, I soak in the sensation of flying again in the Light—the fresh air, the sunlight on my face, the beautiful scenery below, and the strong connection to Zogar.
Things may have changed, but at least I am home.
We will land now, Zogar says. As long as you agree, my queen.
I appreciate how he’s at least pretending to seek my agreement on his decisions, and it reminds me of Surath’s claim that Zogar puts my needs and happiness above his own.
My love, Zogar says, I exist to make you happy.
Warmth spreads inside me. “What did you find out? Does Ersot trust Treacher? Do you trust her?”
I trust Ersot, he says. She has no love for her rider, but she respects him and does not believe he means to harm you. He has news of Saxon.
“Then let’s land.” I don’t trust Treacher, but I trust my husband to keep me safe. Also, I’m eager to learn everything he knows about Saxon—and Tynan.
While you talk to this man, I will remain in dragon form. If he threatens you, I’ll incinerate him. Send me a signal, if you think I should reveal my true form.
Zogar and I land, as does Ersot, and I watch from the ground as Treacher uses his rope to repel down her side.
The moment his boots strike the ground, he strides toward me. “How did you get off that behemoth without a rope?” If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he was impressed.
“I use Zogar’s wing,” I tell him.
My heart rate accelerates as the fierce dragon master draws closer.
I always thought the man’s eyes were brown, but see now they’re deep purple, almost the same shade as Zogar’s hair.
I don’t know the cause of his facial scars, and I wonder whether he got them before or after becoming a dragon rider.
“I’m pleased to see you’re alive.” Treacher widens his stance when he reaches me.
“You are?”
“You seem surprised.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
My eyes narrow. “You never liked me. And you certainly never wanted me to mount a dragon.”
His arms drop to his sides. “I simply believed you were too small to ride.” His wide shoulders rise and fall. “I neither liked nor disliked you. I never get attached to rider candidates. Most don’t live very long.”
Somehow, his statement comes off pragmatic and honest, versus cold and cruel.
“How did you find us?” I have far more important questions, but this one will serve as a start.
“Ersot and I took flight, the moment the veil parted.” He glances toward his dragon.
“When we saw the behemoth, Ersot spoke to me.” His eyes widen and he leans slightly forward.
“Using words.” His chest expands as if he thinks he’s the first rider to ever talk to his dragon. “I told him to follow you.”
“You told him…” I see no point in breaking the news that Ersot is female, or that she flies wherever she wants. Ersot is a very large dragon. Her violet tinged scales are decidedly beautiful, but I have no idea how to tell a dragon’s gender.
“Why did the behemoth trap you in the Darkness for so many moon cycles?” Treacher asks. “What did you see there?”
“Again, his name is Zogar.” I shift, pausing for a moment to consider my answer. “And, just like the first time I crossed the veil, my time away was much shorter than what passed for you here.”
“So,” his forehead crinkles, “from your perspective, you were only away for a matter of days or weeks?”
I nod, pleased that he remembered and perhaps even believed this detail from the last time he questioned me. “That’s correct.”
He brushes his hand through his closely cropped hair. “I don’t understand how that’s possible.” He frowns. “There’s much I don’t understand these days.”
“For example?” I want to ask about Saxon, about Tynan, but also need to hear his perspective about what’s going on here in general.
“To start, the thrixing klericks have taken control.” His frown is so ferocious, it almost pushes me back. His stance on that subject is obvious. But it could just be because he’s lost power.
“Is Saxon in prison?”
His frown deepens. “Fuckers locked him in a dungeon. Accused him of heresy.” His thick arms fold over his chest again. “I’ve been doing what I can. At least he’s still here and hasn’t yet faced a tribunal. His conditions are shitty, but he’s alive.”
Blood rushes in my ears as conflicting emotions swirl inside me. “And Tynan?”
Treacher shrugs. “Kid flew off. Took his dragon. Took Saxon’s too. Saxon must have cast a spell on his dragon. She can fly without him now.” He says this as if he’s revealing things I don’t know.
Trying to hide my reaction, I bite my tongue.
“Word is,” he continues, “Tynan’s in Khotor, ruling at the King’s side. But communication between the kingdoms—” he frowns “—the former kingdoms. All messages go through the klericks. I don’t trust them.”
I feel ill. Treacher has confirmed some of what Surath told me about Tynan. “And you’ve seen Saxon?” I clench my fists, trying to hide my trembling.
“Yes.”
“Tell me more of Saxon. How often have you seen him?” My heart breaks, thinking of Saxon trapped in a dungeon, and I blink back the tears rising in my eyes. I refuse to cry in front of Treacher.
He frowns. “I’ve been visiting as often as I can. Bringing him food and water, trying to get him to talk. I don’t think he’s spoken a word, over the many moon cycles those bastards have held him.”
“Is it the klericks who are holding him?”
“The klericks and Roule.” Treacher’s eyes darken.
I suck a sharp breath through my nose. “Master Roule?”
Treacher nods. “Bastard handed control of the camp to Kaelus, the Head Klerick.”
Shock ripples through me as I try to understand how this could have happened.
Officially, the three dragon masters were equals, but it was the general consensus amongst the riders and candidates that Treacher and Saxon shared control of camp—control over Roule.
“How could you let the klericks take control?”
“I didn’t let them.” Treacher growls and his frown deepens. “I’ve done what I can. If I do any more, I’ll land in that dungeon with Saxon.”
I draw a deep breath, grateful he didn’t lash out at my impertinent and accusatory question.
I’m still getting over the shock that we weren’t met with a battalion of riders the moment we burst through the veil.
Or that no dragon riders or soldiers have followed Treacher here.
And if no more dragons were rescued, Treacher doesn’t yet know that dragons can shift.
“What other changes have happened at camp?” I’m still unsure I can trust him.
The anger inside him visibly builds. “The klericks halted flight training. They replaced Roule’s classroom instruction with religious studies or prayer sessions, and they won’t let any remaining candidates attempt a mounting.” His eyes narrow. “They confiscated the sphincter trainers.”
I shake my head in dismay. “Why wouldn’t they want more riders? Don’t they realize that the dragons have protected us for centuries?” Even more than any of us knew.
“The klericks now say the bond between a man and a dragon is blasphemous—like Roule claimed it was for you.” One side of his mouth quirks up in the hint of a smirk.
I raise my chin. “I don’t remember you arguing Roule on that matter.”
“Did I ever use the word blasphemy?”
He has a point there. “Without dragons, how do the klericks plan to maintain the veil?”
“When you three vanished, the demon attacks stopped. The klericks now preach that the demon attacks were Othrix’s punishment for humans riding dragons.
” Treacher frowns, as if he just realized something.
“You only just came through the veil. You haven’t seen anyone.
” His eyes narrow. “How did you know that Saxon’s in prison? ”
“Zogar told me.”
His eyes widen. “Your dragon speaks to you?”
I nod.
He shakes his head. “And how the fuck did your dragon know?” Treacher looks far more curious than skeptical.
I turn back toward Zogar, and nod, giving him the signal. For better or worse, it’s time that Treacher learns the truth about dragons. It’s a risk, but if I’m expecting honesty from him, I should offer the same.
“Surath, Xendus,” I call out. “Will you come here and meet Treacher?”
Staggering back a few steps, Treacher looks at me like I’m mad. “Saxon and Tynan’s dragons are here? How? Where are they?” He spins around, scanning the field.
Surath and Xendus stride out of the forest. Treacher is looking in the opposite direction, yet his eyes widen in alarm, and I glance over my shoulder.
Zogar, in human form, is striding toward us. I doubt Surath and Xendus heard my conversation with Treacher, but I know Zogar did—or at least heard everything up until he shifted.
Treacher spins and spots Xendus and Surath approaching. “What?” He turns back to me. “Who are these people? Did you bring them back from the Darkness?” He glares at me, and distrust overtakes his expression.
Was revealing the truth a mistake?
Zogar reaches me first, taking a strong stance beside me. “I am Zogar, King of the Dragons,” he tells Treacher. “And Rosomon is my queen.”
Treacher’s eyes are wide, and his apple of Othrix bobs in his throat.
“I am Xendus.” The large shifter gruffly nods toward Treacher.
“And I am Surath.” She smiles wryly, clearly enjoying Treacher’s confusion, as he tries to process the new information.
Shaking his head, Treacher turns back to me. “Why are these people using dragon names?” He blinks a few times. “And how did your dragon disappear?”
“They’re dragon shifters,” I tell Treacher.
“These are our true forms,” Zogar says. “We were trapped as dragons for over four hundred years.” His eyes narrow.
“We were trapped in that canyon prison—” Rage is building in my husband, so I take his hand and rub his thumb pad, hoping to calm him until his rage is beneficial.
We need to give Treacher time to absorb this information.
“No.” Treacher looks between the three shifters and me, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Ersot?” He turns back toward his dragon, and she sends a long stream of fire skyward.
“Ersot!” Treacher staggers back. “Can he hear me?”
“Of course she can,” Surath says sharply.
“She?” Treacher shakes his head. “Ersot is male.”
“Believe me,” Surath snarls. “Ersot is very much a woman.”
Treacher’s eyes are now impossibly wide, and he continues to shake his head. “Can Ersot—? Is he—is she…” He sighs in exasperation.
“Yes,” I respond to his incomplete question. “Every dragon held in the Light is a shifter. They’re mages able to assume dragon form.”
“I don’t understand.” He looks into my eyes, as if I’m the only one he trusts to give answers.
I offer him a soft smile. “If we help you understand, will you help us free Saxon?”
Treacher rakes back his hair. “Sure. Yes. Of course. I’ll help you free Saxon regardless, but as for believing that these people are dragons… that’s something I’ll have to see to believe.”
“Then, you must cross the veil,” Zogar says boldly. “Once Ersot is free, we will free Saxon, and then free all of our people.”