by Lynette Noni
The sound was unlike anything she’d ever heard before. To her Meyarin-sensitive hearing, it felt like needles were being shoved into her ear canals. Through watering eyes, she looked up just in time to witness the source of the sound fall from the sky above the golden trees and come to a skidding, sliding stop at the edge of the clearing.
Forgetting her pain at the sight before her, Alex scrambled backwards until she hit a tree and froze to the spot.
“No freaking way,” she gasped out.
What she was looking at wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
Because in front of her, barely thirty feet away, lay a dragon.
Nine
The beast was a pitch-black colour, easily twice the height of an elephant and three times its length. Its scaly hide rippled when its muscles contracted as it fought against the glowing net it was ensnared in, a net that had tangled its wings and legs, pulling it from the air and trapping it on the ground.
Hot puffs of air blew from its huge nostrils, melting the snow near where it lay. A keening cry emitted from its throat, one that spoke to Alex of both pain and fear.
She had no idea what to do. On one hand, she was looking at a dragon. A mythical creature capable of eating her without so much as having to chew first. On the other, she couldn’t condone the senseless entrapment of such a magnificent creature. But what if…
Alex didn’t get to finish her thought before the beast tensed and turned its majestic head her way. Its eyes gleamed like orbs of blue fire, yet the pupils were dilated with terror.
“Please don’t eat me for this,” she whispered, cautiously moving towards the creature. Its gaze remained locked on her the whole time, tracking her steps. If anything, it looked increasingly more fearful the closer she approached. Its keening transitioned into a high-pitched wail as it struggled fiercely against the bonds.
“It’s okay,” Alex found herself saying when she was just a few steps away. She was bending slightly, her weight in the balls of her feet, her hands raised in a calming manner. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She closed the remaining gap between them and the dragon’s eyes widened further. Its breathing turned even more haggard, the panting bursts complete with alarming sparks of blue fire liquefying the ice at Alex’s feet.
“Take it easy, big fella,” Alex said, keeping her voice soft, willing her hands not to shake even though she was, perhaps, more scared than the beast. “Let me take a look at you.”
Upon closer inspection, Alex recognised the substance the netting was made out of—thin strands of Moxyreel.
“This complicates things,” she murmured, knowing that the only thing that could cut through Meyarin steel was Meyarin steel. She didn’t allow her mind to consider why, exactly, the dragon was caught in a Moxyreel net, nor who was to blame for bringing down the creature. Instead she tapped her finger against her lip and wondered how best to try and free it.
“Abrassa.”
Alex jumped backwards, nearly slipping on the melted sludge at her feet. She turned stunned eyes to the creature. “No way! You can talk?”
“Abrassa,” the creature said again, his voice deep and male but also sounding young, like an adolescent. “Abrassa… closing… Hurry.”
“Abrassa?” Alex repeated, her nerves slightly hitching at the word. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Abrassa… Void.”
Alex shook her head, not understanding.
The dragon let out a frustrated, spark-free breath and Alex had to resist taking another step back. The last thing she wanted was to anger the creature.
“Abrassa… Void… Must return.”
His disjointed sentences made little sense to Alex.
“Just try to stay still,” she said, reaching forward to inspect the Moxyreel, figuring the best thing she could do was release him so he could return to wherever he came from. “I’ll try to get you out of this.”
“Pulled… between. Through abrassa,” the dragon said, his words remaining nonsensical.
“Sounds painful,” Alex said, giving up on trying to understand his broken attempts at speaking her language. She hesitantly threaded her fingers underneath a strand of Moxyreel, surprised when they brushed up against the dragon’s black scales only to find his thick hide oddly soft to the touch.
“Painful…” the dragon said. “Golden One cause… much pain.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Alex said distractedly while tugging at the Moxyreel. She wished Zain hadn’t taken everything from her, since she would still be wearing her Myrox bow-and-arrow necklace. But then she remembered something he hadn’t taken from her. Something he couldn’t take.
Raising her palm outwards was all it took for the ice-like blade to appear in her hand—a dagger that, not so long ago, she would have cringed away from. Now, however, she was oddly comforted by the weight of A’enara between her fingers.
The dragon stilled as he took in her weapon, his brilliant cerulean-coloured eyes growing wider than before.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Alex told him again, realising how it might look.
But for some reason, he didn’t seem afraid. He appeared… awed.
“This net is made of Meyarin steel,” Alex said, just for something to say but not sure how much he understood. “Supposedly only Myrox can cut through it, but I’m hoping…” She trailed off and gestured to her weapon with a shrug. “Just don’t freak out, okay? I need you to stay still so I can try and cut the net without hurting you.”
The dragon nodded his large head against his constraints. “Cut… Hurry.”
“Uh-huh,” Alex replied, carefully sliding A’enara between the dragon’s scales and the Moxyreel. “This abrassa thing is closing, right? Don’t worry, I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Abrassa closing… But not why hurry,” the dragon said. “Golden One come… More pain come… Must hurry.”
Alex froze as an impending sense of dread settled over her. “Golden One? Do you mean… You’re not talking about Aven, are you? The banished Meyarin prince?”
“Golden One… Bad… Pull Xiraxus through abrassa… Must return before…”
Every muscle seized in her body as she glanced anxiously around the clearing. “Before what?”
“Before.”
Shaking her head at her frustrating lack of comprehension, Alex tried not to panic at the idea of Aven coming their way. She could think of no one else who matched the description of ‘Golden One’. And if he was the one whose net ensnared the dragon, then he was surely en route to retrieving his prize; something Alex absolutely did not want to wait around for.
“I hope this works,” she said quietly, pressing the sharp edge of her blade against the netting. Relief flooded her body when it cut through as easily as if carving through water. Alex didn’t even care that A’enara wasn’t made of Myrox and therefore shouldn’t have been able to damage the Moxyreel. She’d long since come to understand that the weapon had its own secrets.
Slicing through strand after strand of the netting, Alex made short work of freeing the beast. When she managed to cut the final threads binding his taloned forearms to his torso, the dragon let out a roar of triumph and rose onto his hind legs, spreading his impressive wings out to the sides, making him seem even larger than he already was.
Daunted by his sheer size, Alex quickly scrambled backwards. But when his roar mellowed out into a whimpering sound, she halted her retreat.
“Are you—Are you hurt?” she asked as he hunched over, curling around himself protectively.
“Fly…” the dragon said. “Need… fly…”
Pushing the worry of Aven’s whereabouts from her mind, Alex took charge again. “Here, let me see.”
The dragon seemed to hesitate as if deciding whether or not to trust her. But then his eyes landed on A’enara still in her hands and he seemed to come to a decision. He lowered himself back to the ground and carefully extended his wing. It was then that Alex noticed the jagged slash across the thick musc
le near to what she presumed was the elbow joint, with sticky golden liquid splashing across the membrane and dripping down onto the snow. Blood, she realised, strange as the colour was.
“Need… fly…” the dragon repeated, his words urgent. “Golden One come… Abrassa closing… Need fly!”
Thinking quickly, Alex told him to wait there and she took off into the trees closest to them, returning to his side with her hands full of fresh laendra. Following Zain’s advice, she used her dagger to cut into the bulb of the flowers, releasing the concentrated juice inside. She then let go of A’enara so that both her hands would be free, and the weapon vanished from sight again.
“This might sting,” she told the dragon. “I’m not sure. But, uh, just in case.”
Once again, she found herself mentally chanting ‘Please don’t eat me’ as she reached out and smeared the laendra nectar onto the wound.
The dragon hissed and Alex felt her heart skip a beat, but he settled again and let her finish her ministrations. As she watched, the wound began closing before her eyes and she smiled with satisfaction.
“There,” she said when the injury sealed completely, no longer oozing golden blood. “All better.”
She patted him on the chest, forgetting for a moment that she was dealing with a dragon and not a dog, then she stepped back.
“We both better get out of here,” she said, casting another anxious glance around the clearing. “Especially if—”
“Golden One come!”
Startled, Alex tripped backwards and onto the ground as the dragon reared up on his hind legs, wings snapping out to the side.
Her Meyarin senses switched on as adrenaline flooded her body, and Alex could suddenly hear exactly what the dragon was referring to—loud, running footsteps moving swiftly through the forest towards them.
“Xiraxus fly… Save from Golden One…” the dragon said, beating his powerful black wings, causing the snow to dust up around Alex like tiny ice missiles.
On all fours, she scrambled backwards, her face stinging from the strength of his air gusts. Not sure if she was more terrified of Aven’s approach or the magnificent beast preparing for flight, Alex decided to run. But as soon as she got to her feet, the dragon launched from the ground and then swooped down at lightning speed to snatch her up in one of his massive talons. With her torso firmly clasped in his powerful grip, the dragon burst out of the clearing and up, up, up into the skies above them.
Too winded by his claws to muster up a scream, Alex could only watch in silent horror as the canopy of the forest below became smaller and smaller the higher they rose.
“Abrassa… closing…” the dragon repeated, his voice reaching Alex through the mighty wind. He sounded panicked, terrified.
“No… time…”
If it was possible, the dragon increased his speed. Alex couldn’t breathe, so harsh was the air pummelling against her body and so tight was his hold on her. She felt as if her ribcage was cracking under the pressure of his talons as she lay dangling helplessly in his grip. Agonising pain rippled over her as black dots sprung around the edges of her vision. Just as it all became too much and she knew she was going to pass out, the dragon put in one final surge forward.
“Abrassa,” the dragon roared. “Hold… on…”
Alex had nothing to hold on to. She was barely able to keep her eyes open anymore. But before they rolled into the back of her head, she saw a shimmering cloud of energy spring into being, like an explosion of ink bleeding across the sky—ink that the dragon flew them straight into…
… and then Alex knew no more.
Ten
When Alex regained consciousness, it wasn’t a peaceful, slow awakening. Instead, she shot up with a gasp, heart pounding as she took in her surroundings. Only when she realised she was safely back in her canopy bed at the Meyarin palace did her thumping pulse begin to calm.
Turning her head to her balcony, she was soothed by her view of the city shining in the early afternoon sunshine. Her hands tentatively moved to her chest, feeling for broken ribs or internal bleeding, but there was nothing, not even any lingering pain.
“Did I dream it all?” she wondered aloud, just as the door opened and Kyia walked into her room.
Alex leaned back against her pillows and turned wide eyes to the female Meyarin, blurting the first thing that came to mind. “Please tell me excess consumption of laendra has hallucinogenic properties, Kyia, because, no joke—I was just flying with a dragon.”
Kyia paused mid-step, her head cocked to the side as she looked at Alex.
“Laendra?” Kyia repeated, approaching again until she was next to the bed.
“I ate a lot of it on the varrungard,” Alex explained. “Like, a lot, a lot. So it’s either that, or I really did save a dragon from a trap set by Aven and ended up with a free ride for my troubles. I’m sure you can see how I’m hoping it’s the former rather than the latter, even if it means I’ll have to fess up to my parents and tell them I unintentionally overdosed on what was probably the Meyarin equivalent of magic mushrooms.”
Kyia’s forehead bunched in apparent confusion. “Varrungard?”
Alex raised her eyebrows at the Meyarin’s strange behaviour. “Yeah, Kyia. The varrungard.” She gestured an arm around the opulent room. “I’m guessing I didn’t make it back on my own, which sucks. I was so close, too. But then…” Alex shook her head. “What happened, anyway? Did I pass out from the hallucination? Who found me?”
Just then the door opened again and Alex’s stomach moved straight to her throat at the sight of the Meyarin who entered.
In an instant she was on her feet with her arm outstretched, mentally summoning A’enara. The weapon appeared in a flaming blaze of light, the pyrotechnic display surprising Alex enough to nearly drop it. She quickly tightened her grip, even when flicks of blue fire travelled from the blade along the pommel and halfway up her arm, harmlessly caressing her skin.
Startled, but with far more important things on her mind than the now fiery sword, Alex’s free hand reached out to drag Kyia backwards as she began a hasty retreat towards the balcony, putting as much distance between them and the new arrival as possible.
“Aven,” Alex hissed. “What are you—How did you get in here?”
Before anyone could say or do anything, Kyia yanked herself free from Alex’s grip and quickly backed away from her.
“Kyia!” Alex cried, stretching for her again but the Meyarin skipped out of reach. “What are you doing? It’s Aven! Get away from him!”
But Kyia didn’t listen to her. Instead, the female Meyarin looked at her with wariness and moved directly to the banished prince’s side.
Alex’s mouth dropped open when Aven protectively pulled Kyia close.
“Lenasa sae de la frayon?” he said to her, his voice soft, almost gentle.
Without Alex knowing how, the words translated instantly in her mind: ‘Did she hurt you?’
Blinking in astonishment, Alex felt her hands shake as she took another step backwards, now out onto the balcony with the sun streaming down on her from above.
“What the hell, Kyia?” she demanded, her voice sounding betrayed even to her own ears.
Before she could come to any kind of understanding, the door opened again and Roka walked in. Not sure if she was relieved or even more terrified, Alex called out to warn him, “Roka—it’s Aven!”
The dark-haired prince glanced at her in muted curiosity as he strode fearlessly towards Aven and Kyia and said, “Varria trae fraeden de senus rayos.” Again, the words translated instantly in Alex’s mind: ‘It appears I missed the introductions.’
“Apparently we did too, brother,” Aven replied in the lyrical Meyarin language. His eyes were on Alex, his lips quirking as if amused. But his smile was different. It wasn’t as… dark. It seemed strangely genuine. “As always, our fame precedes us.”
“She may know of us, but I’ve never seen her before,” Kyia said with a shake of her head, also s
peaking her native language which Alex was somehow able to understand. “And I would remember, given that she shines with the binding of a draekon.”
“That is indeed curious, as is the weapon she wields,” Aven said, his gaze focused on A’enara. “That’s no normal blade. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was—”
Full body trembles assaulted Alex’s frame and she interrupted in a whispered voice full of disbelief and confusion, “Is this some kind of joke? What is happening?”
“What language is that she speaks?” Aven asked, peering at her intently.
Roka was looking at her with renewed curiosity. “It’s the common tongue. It would seem she is… confused.”
Kyia snorted. “I don’t need to understand her language to see that, Roka. The poor thing looks terrified. And she likely has reason to, since we found her half dead at the base of the Golden Cliffs.”
Aven chose that moment to step forward, his hands raised in front of him as he approached Alex. “It’s all right,” he told her, the melodic language nearly hypnotising. “You’re amongst friends here.”
Eyes wide, Alex retreated with every step closer he moved until she was backed up against the knee-high railing of the balcony. She glanced over her shoulder and wobbled slightly at the sight of the ground far, far below. Making sure to keep her weight leaning away from the dangerously low balustrade, she warned, “I don’t know what’s going on, Aven, but I swear—”
Her threat was cut short when an almighty roar sounded from above. Alex clapped both her hands over her ears, and with A’enara no longer pointing at Aven, he took the opportunity to rush towards her. She swiftly aimed her weapon in warning again and scampered away from him, but in doing so, her feet slipped on the smooth surface of the balcony. Arms flailing uselessly, she took in Aven’s horrified expression as he lunged for her. But he wasn’t fast enough, and Alex fell backwards—straight over the railing.
A bloodcurdling scream tore from her throat as she plummeted down the length of the spiralling palace towers and towards the radiant city below. But before she could fully comprehend that she was about to die, a hulking shadow blurred through the air until it sailed directly under her.