A few seconds passed. Micah raised his head. He blinked the snow out of his eyes and rolled over. Inside the boxcar, he heard the unmistakable crackling sounds of burning wood. He stared, perplexed, cold shivers working like tremors through his body.
His face morphed into a smile. “Hmm,” he said. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“It’s burning!” Morgane shouted from the top of the hill. Micah glanced at her. She had come out from behind the scout. She let out a triumphant cheer, and Micah pushed himself up to a sitting position. Through the crack in the door, he could see the bluish glow of burning starfall.
He was crawling back to his feet when he heard a strange whooshing sound. It was the sound of sucking air, followed by an almost instantaneous kaboom! The blast threw him back into the snow as the boxcar erupted in a blue-green fireball that lit up the night. A pillar of flames rose into the sky. Micah struggled not to black out as the flames devoured all the oxygen in the vicinity.
A gust of icy air blew across the slope. Cold flakes landed on his face and swirled in the air around him. Micah came to his senses enough to crawl to his feet and check on Morgane. When he turned to look for her, Micah saw that she had vanished. He called out her name, but could barely hear his own voice over the ringing of his ears.
The halfling stumbled through the snow, working his way up to where she had been. At the top of the hill, Micah found Morgane sprawled out on her back in a snowdrift. She was staring up at the sky, eyes wide and unblinking. For a heart-stopping moment he thought she might have been killed, but she began to move as he approached her. Morgane mumbled something.
Micah shouted, “What?”
“Big!” she shouted back at him, sitting upright. She made a wide gesture with her hands. “That was bigger than I thought it would be!”
Micah cracked a smile. He offered her a hand, and Morgane frowned at him. The halfling’s smile vanished. “Is something wrong?”
“Micah, where are your eyebrows?”
He reached up to touch his face, and found that his eyebrows had been singed almost completely off. He took off his hat, and found that the front of the brim was charcoal.
“Devils,” he cursed under his breath. Morgane howled with laughter.
After a brief assessment, the pair decided that they had come out of it surprisingly well, other than Micah having no eyebrows and a ruined hat. It was presumed that the hat could be replaced and the eyebrows would grow back. After the initial explosion, the boxcar settled down into a nice warm bonfire about twenty feet tall. There was now a circle of warm dry ground extending fifteen feet out in every direction.
The pair decided to build a makeshift lean-to in a relatively flat area off to the side of the boxcar. Micah gathered some long sticks for the frame, and they draped their wet cloaks over the top. They built it facing the fire, so that the shelter would protect them from the wind coming up behind them.
The one thing they didn’t have was food. The travel pack of dried meat and bread they had brought with them seemed to have vanished in the crash, and neither had the energy to go searching for it in the dark. Instead, they decided to enjoy the warmth. They fell asleep next to each other, sharing the two blankets and basking in the warm glow of the boxcar.
Chapter 18
The next day dawned bright and clear. The storm had passed. A foot of snow had fallen overnight, but the area around the boxcar remained warm and dry. The boxcar itself had melted in on itself, the wooden floorboards crumbling into fiery embers as the steel framework sagged and finally collapsed. Despite all this, the fire remained virtually unchanged. The color was lighter and bluer by the light of day, but it continued to burn with the same heat and intensity, and remained nearly the same size as before.
Morgane was first to stir. She heard a snorting sound, and her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if the sound had been a dream or if perhaps it was the sound of Micah snoring. She turned to look at him, leaning up on one elbow, and froze. Curled up at Micah’s side, she saw a dragon. It was a small creature, the dragon’s tail coiled around its body, its spiny head resting on Micah’s legs. It was black, which meant it was a male; by far the most dangerous of the species. And it was sound asleep.
Morgane leapt to her feet and backed away. Though the dragon was barely the size of a pony, she knew those jaws could rip her limb from limb. She had seen what dragons could do, and they terrified her. It took all her courage not to turn and run. She thought of the little derringer Socrates had given her, but it was gone. It had been tucked into her belt during the crash, and now it was up in the snowdrift somewhere.
Morgane backed around to the edge of the lean-to, hiding herself behind the corner. She hesitated there. She couldn’t leave Micah in this dangerous situation. But any attempt to wake him might rouse the dragon. If that happened, they were both as good as dead. How could she wake him, and extricate him from under the dragon’s head without rousing the beast?
After a few minutes of consideration, Morgane dropped to all fours and crawled over to him. She was nearly there when her knee landed on a dry stick. Morgane winced as it made a loud snapping sound. She froze, eyes fixed on the dragon. The creature sniffed and took a deep breath. Morgane’s hand went to the dagger in her belt. She had no idea how to use it against such a creature, nor if it was even possible, but it was the only defense she had.
The dragon made a smacking sound with its tongue. It exhaled what seemed to be a contented sigh, and resumed its pattern of deep breathing. Morgane relaxed. She pushed the dagger back into its sheath and crawled closer. She reached out to touch Micah’s shoulder, giving the halfling a gentle poke. It had no effect, so she gave him a more powerful nudge. Micah stopped breathing for a second and then began to snore.
Frustrated, Morgane gave him a firm nudge. Micah’s shoulder shook. His eyes opened, and he blinked up at the sky. “Shhh!” Morgane whispered, touching a finger to his lips. Micah turned his head, frowning as he saw her. Morgane pointed. Micah blinked. He glanced down. His jaw dropped. He shot Morgane a terrified look, and she gave him another shushing gesture.
“What do I do?” the halfling said in a barely audible half-whisper.
Morgane gave a shrug of her shoulders.
Micah closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. In his mind, he began to realize what had happened. The creature must have been drawn to the starfall flames. The dragon, judging by the size of it, was just an infant. He’d seen a full-sized black dragon before, and this was nowhere near that size. According to the knights, black dragons were extremely rare. What were the odds that it just happened to be wandering around near the crash site?
Micah scrunched his face up. This was his doing. It was entirely his fault. It was just a few months ago that Micah had rescued the black egg, stowing it away in the vat of starfall. At the time, he had only been thinking that it was the right and moral thing to do; that it was wrong to eradicate an entire species, even if they were dangerous and volatile creatures. Black dragons -male dragons- were extremely rare, and if the egg had been destroyed, that might very well mean the end of the entire species.
Apparently, the starfall had been just what the embryo needed to keep it viable until it hatched. It had been an insane thing to do, saving a creature that knew only how to kill, and now Micah was about to pay for that mistake with his life.
Very slowly, very carefully, Micah pushed himself up to a sitting position. As he moved, he kept his eyes fixed on the dragon’s head. The creature had leathery black hide, and scales along the ridge of its back. The dragons he’d seen at Dragonwall had been fully mature, with scales covering most of their bodies. That meant the young dragon was vulnerable, unprotected. Maybe even defenseless. He wondered if it might be possible to overpower the creature and kill it...
Micah slid the covers back. Very gently, he began to slide his leg out from under the dragon’s head. The gentle rhythm of the dragon’s breathing stopped. Micah froze. He tensed up, ready to le
ap away at the first sign of danger. He threw a glance and Morgane and saw her staring at him white as a sheet. She had her dagger in hand, stretching it out towards him, but just out of reach.
Micah drew his gaze back to the dragon, and found the creature’s serpentine gaze fixed on him. Micah’s blood froze. The eyes were reptilian, but also somehow humanlike in appearance. They were emerald green, flecked with gold and silver, with elongated snakelike pupils. There was no mistaking the intelligence behind those eyes.
The dragon lifted its head. Instantly, Micah rolled away. As he lurched to his feet, he reached out to take Morgane’s dagger. The halfling lowered his center of gravity, pointing the weapon at the beast. The dragon rose, its face twisting into a snarl. The creature’s head went back and it sucked in a great breath. Micah had seen this body language before.
“Duck!” he shouted. He gave Morgane a push. She stumbled back, dropping behind the lean-to, and Micah dove to the ground. He rolled to the side and came up on one knee a couple yards away with the dagger in hand.
The dragon shivered and gave out a loud sneeze. It sniffed and shook its head. It blinked, drawing its gaze across the campsite. It zeroed in on Micah and gave him a perplexed look.
“It’s looking at you,” Morgane said.
Micah shot her a glance that said he was well aware. The three stood there for a minute, frozen in a stalemate. When Micah realized that the dragon didn’t seem to be aggressive, he decided it might be safe to take a step back. The instant he moved however, the dragon came lurching towards him.
Micah brandished the knife in front of him, ready to strike. The dragon, somehow sensing his distress, lowered its head. Micah stared at it, uncertain what to do. Cautiously, the creature stretched its neck out and it sniffed his hand.
“Micah,” Morgane said in a whisper. “I think it likes you.”
As if in response, the dragon nudged him, touching the top of its snout to his hand. Micah shook his head in disbelief. At Morgane’s urging, he reached out to stroke the dragon’s chin. The beast closed its eyes and a loud, rhythmic purring sound rumbled out of its chest.
“How about that. It knows my smell!”
Morgane frowned. “Why would it know your smell?”
Micah glanced at her. He gulped. “Umm... I don’t know. I could be wrong.”
Morgane put her hands on her hips, leering down at him. “You haven’t ever seen this creature before, have you?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then why would it recognize your smell?”
Micah wrinkled up his face. Morgane glared at him. He searched his mind for a good lie, and came up empty. He was no good at lying. But what could he tell her? What could he say that wouldn’t make her hate him?
“Well?” she demanded.
Micah sighed. There was no getting out of it now, he realized. He had to tell the truth.
“I found the egg. I found it in the cave where we found the starfall, down at the bottom of the cliff behind Dragonwall. Socrates was pumping the starfall out of the lake, and he was going to-” he was running out of breath, but it didn’t matter because Morgane interrupted him:
“Wait a minute! If you found the egg in Dragonwall, how did it get here? I know for a fact that nobody in Dragonwall would just leave a black egg lying around. They would have destroyed it!” Her eyes widened as it all began to make sense. “You!” she said point at him. “You hid the egg!”
“No,” he said backing away. “Of course not!”
She glared down at him like a mother chastising her child. “You didn’t?”
Micah licked his lips. The answer was clear on his face.
“Oh, Micah,” Morgane said, the disappointment resounding in her voice. “You don’t know what you’ve done. You have no idea. Do you know what would happen if anyone found out? Do you know what they’d do to you?”
Micah started to say something, but she silenced him with a glare. “Centuries, my ancestors fought and died because of these things. Right when we’ve finally won, you go and do a crazy thing like this.”
“I had to!” Micah shouted. “You can’t just wipe out a whole species. You can’t do that. Would you do it to horses, or cattle? What about cats?”
Morgane cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you seriously trying to compare this thing to a house cat?”
Micah tried to force a smile. “Well, it is purring.”
Morgane threw up her hands in exasperation.
The two exchanged few words as they packed their gear and prepared to leave. Micah gathered a small collection of pine needles and dried leaves to use as tinder, and of course the striker he had found in the tool kit. For a while, the dragon found this intensely interesting, even to the point that he followed Micah around as the halfling collected his things. The dragon lost interest when Micah and Morgane began digging through the snow, searching for their lost bag of food. The creature wandered off into the woods and disappeared.
Unfortunately for the travelers, their search failed. Not only had Morgane lost her derringer, the food was gone, probably stolen in the night by a family of foxes or some other scavengers. Micah and Morgane reluctantly decided to go on without breakfast. “I’ll keep an eye out while we travel,” Micah promised. “If nothing else, we’ll catch a rabbit and make a stew.”
Morgane was clearly skeptical: “How will we do that with a jeweled dagger and a broken knife?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“I hope so,” she said. “The snow is only going to get deeper, and the nights colder.”
It was true. Micah had been thinking it ever since the crash, but he hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to worry Morgane. Little had he known that she had already been thinking the same thing. They had missed two meals already, and now they were setting out on an impossible quest with no food and a very low probability of finding more. Micah had to wonder how far they could go in the freezing snow with empty bellies. Unfortunately, they didn’t have much choice. Staying at the fire might keep them alive longer, but it would only delay the inevitable.
Micah collected his satchel and threw his travel pack over his shoulder. “Let’s get moving while the sun is warm,” he said. “With any luck, we’ll find shelter before dark.”
Together, they started down the snow-covered tracks. The dragon was nowhere to be seen. It was safe for now, Micah thought, but as soon as Morgane got back to civilization, he expected her to send hunters after the creature. At least he had done what he could to protect the species. With any luck, the dragon would vanish and never be seen again.
Morgane complained now and then as they traveled, but not as much as Micah would have expected from a spoiled noble brat. The truth was, for a woman who had barely seen the outside of a palace in her life, she did surprisingly well. She didn’t like trudging through the knee-deep snow, she didn’t like the cold wind blowing down her neck, and didn’t like the moisture seeping into her boots, but who did? Micah assured her that he didn’t like these things either, and pointed out that the snow was twice as deep for him as it was for her. This seemed to put Morgane into a different frame of mind, and her complaints thereafter were minimal.
It was the hunger that wore on them the most. It lowered their energy level and reduced their resistance to the penetrating cold. By noon, their speed was down to a monotonous trudge and they were both panting. The warm sun made them sweat. When they took off their cloaks and jackets, the cold wind made them shiver. The afternoon heat melted the snow just enough to make it dense and wet, so it was even harder to plow through. The moisture soaked into their clothes, making everything damp and heavy. It became clear to Micah that if they didn’t find shelter before nightfall, they would be in serious trouble.
Shortly after noon, Morgane paused to catch her breath and saw something strange in the distance. “What is that?” she said to Micah, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazed out across the brilliant white plains. Micah followed her gaze.
&
nbsp; “That’s odd. I think it’s an airship.”
“Here? Where could it be going?”
Micah frowned. He dropped his pack and opened his satchel. After a minute of shuffling papers, he found what he was looking for. It was a map. “If I remember right, we’re about three hundred miles south of New Boston. That ship is headed west, but according to my map-”
“Three hundred miles!” Morgane exclaimed. “We’ll never make it that far. You knew this all along?”
Micah gave her an apologetic nod.
“Unbelievable,” she said. “You just let me wander off into the wilds with you, knowing full well that we were going to freeze to death.”
“That’s not true! Besides, what choice did we have?”
“We could still be sitting next to a nice big fire, for one thing.”
“Yes, and still starving, with no food or weapons, and less chance of survival every day.”
“Oh? So, you decided it would be better for us to die quickly?”
Micah gave up. He turned, holding his map to the light as he tracked the path of the airship. “That’s it!” he said at last.
“What?” Morgane said in a pouty tone.
“Look at my map. Do you see this ravine at the edge of the mountains here? And this river?”
“Obviously.”
“I think that might be a village. I remember seeing smoke when the Horse passed through this area, but the source was hidden in the shadow of the mountains. I couldn’t see anything through the scope.”
Her motherly tone returned: “Are you expecting me to follow you out there, with no idea where we’re going?”
“You don’t have to,” Micah said with a shrug of his narrow shoulders. “New Boston is about three hundred miles that way. Just follow the tracks.”
With that, he folded up his map, gathered up his things, and started walking to the west. Morgane watched him for a few seconds before she let out a frustrated groan and hurried after him.
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