Page 62 of Fire in Stone

Hugging her one remaining bucket with water, Zenada crawled out of the range of his kicks. “Someone from your village put a spell on our well, poisoning the water in the Sanctuary!”

Isar wielded her swords, making the air hiss under her blades. “You may want us dead, Weyx. But we’ll live, whether you like it or not. Now, get out of the way, or I’ll slice you into ribbons and braid them into a belt for my robe.”

Peeking from around the rock of my hiding place, I glanced at the rope tied around her trim waist, relieved to find it looked like an ordinary yellow-threaded cord, not someone’s dried flesh. At the same time, there was enough power behind Isar’s threat to make me believe she was fully capable of making Weyx suffer the fate she threatened him with.

He must have sensed it too, as he didn’t laugh it off as a joke. His brows furrowed. His eyes were shooting daggers of hatred at the tall woman facing him.

“Not until you burn your filthysanctuaryto the ground and leave our mountain for good,” he growled. “There is no place for the likes of you on the same mountainside as our respectable village.”

He moved to kick the bucket out of Zenada’s arms, but the woman shrank back, saving it. Frustrated, he grabbed the third woman by the robe, yanking her closer.

“Which one of you is the king’s whore? This one?”

“Ertee,” Isar gasped under her breath. “Let her go!”

Ertee whimpered, drawing her head into her shoulders. Grabbing her by the throat, Weyx shook the slender woman like a rag doll.

A deep growl rose from Isar’s chest. Her golden eyes darkened with menace. She lunged forward with her weapons. One of her blades pierced Weyx’s wing. Red blood dripped onto the black rocks of the mountainside.

He growled, taking a wide stance.

“Burn, you filthy whores!”

His wings spread wider as he grew taller. Claws ripped through the leather of his boots. His face grew longer, smoke curling out of his nostrils.

I sobbed in trepidation, pressing myself to the rock I was hiding behind. I’d seen the dragon form of a gargoyle before. And I knew the power they were capable of.

Zenada and Ertee also cowered, but Isar stood tall, facing the monster Weyx was turning into in front of our eyes.

She tossed her swords aside, untied the rope around her waist, then ripped her scarlet robe from her body.

Her bald skull was decorated with golden swirls. Crystal studs and golden spikes blinked in her ears. Her arms spread wide, her golden eyes glowing with menace, Isar remained many times smaller than the dragon towering in her path, but she seemed infinitely fiercer and more determined.

Suddenly, her dark skin pebbled. A ridge formed in the middle of her head. Her face elongated. A long, forked tongue flicked out between her thinned lips. She crouched, then sprung into the air.

A large, sleek, gold-and-gray lizard leaped out of the woman’s clothing. Gold shimmered on the crest of the ridge running along its head and down its back. The creature grew mid-jump. Bigger than a person, it was still significantly smaller than the reddish-brown dragon blocking our way.

“Gods, please help her,” Ertee whispered, clasping her hands at her chest.

The brave lizard appeared to need all the help she could get, going against the huge, fire-breathing dragon.

He seemed stunned by her audacity to attack him but recovered quickly. His chest expanded, smoke churning around his flared nostrils menacingly.

The lizard gave him no chance to exhale. Her claws slipping on his shiny scales, she climbed up his chest, then sank her teeth into his neck.

Her bite broke through the smaller scales right under his chin. Blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. The crimson liquid mixed with something clear and more viscous than the blood. The substance shimmered with gold and red sparks, as if laced with glitter or…magic.

Shoving away from the dragon with her clawed feet, the giant salamander leaped back. It touched the ground near the pile of Isar’s clothes, then morphed into the crouching woman. Her naked skin shimmered with gold, bringing out the designs on her skull. She straightened in one graceful movement, then reached for her clothes.

“We need to get out of here.” She wiped the dragon’s blood off her mouth with the back of her hand.

A shudder ran through the dragon’s body. His wings trembled, collapsing. The fire never materialized on his breath. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. The wound on his neck sputtered with red sparks. The blood dripping from it bubbled and boiled.

Tipping over, the mighty dragon fell, crashing onto the rocks on the side of the path.

“We’ll need to get rid of his clothes.” Zenada pointed at the pile of torn rags—all that was left of Weyx’s things.

Isar hurriedly threw on her long linen shirt with wide embroidered sleeves, then draped her robe over her muscular body and slid the hood over her head. She didn’t bother putting on the woolen, sleeveless dress, just threw it over her shoulder.

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