Page 30 of Bred By the Dragon

SAMMY

We fly and fly, heading north, and I wish I’d brought more than just a sweater. It’s frigid up here at this altitude, and I have to lean down close to Zakarion and wrap my arms around his neck just to stay close to his body. He’s so warm underneath me, his scales smooth and strangely soft, that I just want to hold onto him forever.

I watch the country become city, and then the city fades into the suburbs, until we’re passing over wide patches of farmland. Even that eventually gives way to vast wilderness, open meadows and dense trees.

We’re flying over a mountain range, and I’m getting sleepy when I hear Zak finally say, “We’re here.”

I sit up as he starts to descend, winding downward in circles like a bird of prey. Below us is a massive peak, higher than all the neighboring ones by a long shot. There’s snow decorating the exposed rock like icing on a cake. Zak flaps a few more times before there’s a loud thump, and I peek over his shoulder to find us standing on a high, high ledge.

I squeak and cling onto him tighter when I see how close we are to the cliffside, and how far down I could fall if I took one wrong step. Zakarion chuckles, and puts his hands underneath me to keep me on his shoulders. His wings retract, folding up along his back to either side of me, and then he steps into shadow.

A torch is lit on the closest wall, revealing a long, stone tunnel. Once we’re safely inside and no longer standing on the exposed rock face, I whisper in his ear, “I think I can walk now.”

Zak nods and helps me down off his back, setting me down neatly on the floor. It is, bizarrely, much warmer in here than outside, when it should be just as cold.

“Where’s that heat coming from?” I ask.

Zakarion tilts his head down and smirks. “There is hot water running throughout the mountain. We have diverted it to keep all of the halls and rooms warm.” He stoops down and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Come. I have much to show you.”

I’m disappointed when he steps away again and leads me down the hall. We pass more torches, and then as the hall curves, a great space opens up ahead of us.

It’s gold. The whole room is pure, shining gold. Torches reflect off of the surface of piles and piles of objects, most of them glimmering yellow but some silver, and the light bounces every which way to illuminate the walls.

I can’t even utter a “wow.” My voice is caught in my throat as I take in the sprawling space, filled with a pile of jewels and riches of all kinds. It’s a veritable sea of ancient beauty.

“This is amazing,” I finally say, taking another step inside. Zakarion is watching with a wide grin on his face, showing every last one of his huge fangs. “This is yours? What you’ve collected over the years?”

“Oh, not just mine,” he says, reaching down to pick up a ring lying in the middle of the floor. He blows on it, then rubs it against his chest before tossing it into the pile. “My parents contributed, and my mother’s parents before her, and... well, you get the idea.”

Many millennia of wealth, all gathered here. I can’t fathom how much it’s worth.

“Do all dragons have hoards like yours?” I ask.

“I don’t really know. I haven’t interacted with many others of my kind.”

I’m baffled by it. “But with all this, you couldn’t afford DreamTogether anymore?”

Zak’s shoulders curl up to his neck. “Well...” he begins, casting a worried look around the room, anywhere but me. “There was this imp. He was my connection. Then, somehow, he was discovered selling something of mine, and now...” He gazes mournfully down at his hoard. “I cannot sell anything else. I’ve even been told that all of this—” He gestures around the room. “—isn’t mine. That I should return it to where it came from.”

I frown. “Who told you this?”

“The government.” He scratches his nose. “Something about items of cultural significance?”

Oh. Then it dawns on me. What he has here truly are remnants of another time, beautiful and important artifacts that tell the history of many places and people.

I kneel down and pick up a small gold crown.

“Belonged to a prince,” Zakarion says, nodding at it. “I believe from the year 1230.”

Turning it over in my hands, I wonder who that prince was. “Do you know the history of everything here?” I ask, returning it gently to the pile when I see how protectively he’s hovering over me.

“Of course.” He arches an eyebrow. “Don’t you know the origin of everything in your home?”

“Yes, but I don’t own as much as you do.”

Zakarion looks out over his hoard. “But every piece is valuable, every piece has a memory. It’s up to me to retain those memories, to preserve the history of my father and mother and their parents before them.”

I follow his gaze. “And each of them has their own history, too. I wonder how much scholars could learn just from this one crown?”

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