Page 53 of The Omega Thief

“Your gardener. I know Attiker had a commission for him that took him to Fire Mountain because he got some red rock for me at the same time.” Raz jumped up and went to the door, sending for Gerry immediately.

When Gerry came, he was clearly unsure about breaking confidences, but Isaac, it seemed, knew about something called pods. Gerry was convinced to share.

“But if that’s the only way of transporting the prism, then if you haven’t had any go missing, Harcourt must know where he can get his hands on them,” Jenny said.

“But how would he know?” Bartholemew pointed out. “I’m willing to bet no one in this room has heard of them as anything other than expensive flowers.”

“What’s worrying is that he has no knowledge of them, but is convinced Attiker does. Attiker’s reputation is that of a last resort,” Isaac said. “As in, if anyone can get it, he can. So either he has his own method for keeping the prism warm, in which case he’ll want to stop Attiker getting one in the first place, or he intends to take them off Attiker once he’s been successful.”

And either way, Raz despaired it would mean the man would do his best to kill his bonded.

Attikermovedveryslowly.He wasn’t sure what was the most terrifying, the deep ruby eyes that stared at him unblinking, the row of huge teeth, or the ridged spikes that ran all the way down the creature’s back and ended at a sharp, pointed tail. Or the fact it was huge.

Well, not huge. He actually thought fire dragons were bigger, or maybe that was just the stories. He would compare it to a large cart horse, bigger than a bear definitely, but not the size the legends whispered fearfully of. And depending on who told, either the beasts were simply mythical or another animal that man had hunted to extinction. He slid a little further towards the opening as he realized he was in some sort of cave. The dragon watched him but didn’t move, so he slid backwards some more. He shot a look behind him. All he could see was the slab he sat on and the red haze of the entrance.

Then he gasped because his mind was suddenly filled with something else. He saw the cave cut out of the side of the mountain, but he very clearly saw the sheer drop below it. Attiker froze and blinked to clear the image and once more looked into red eyes.

He hadn’t moved. He certainly hadn’t seen the outside of the cave as he’d closed his eyes, convinced he was going to drop to his death, so how…

He moved again, and the same image of the drop flashed into his mind. He stilled again, and it disappeared. “It’s you,” he whispered. “You’re doing that. You’re warning me.”

He gazed at the dragon. “But are you warning me simply because you’re going to eat me, anyway?”

The dragon tilted its massive head, but then huffed, and a little smoke trailed out of each nostril. Attiker had a feeling it had been the dragon’s version of rolling its eyes. He glanced around the cave. “Are you on your own?” This one might not want to eat him, but he wasn’t convinced the rest of its family might not feel the same way.

He let his eyes roam over the dragon. It let him look, and he took in the mixture of orange and red scales that were really quite beautiful, and the soft underside of its belly, just visible. It reminded him of one of the cats they’d kept originally when his dad and ma had been happy. They had two great mousers, one a gray female who always seemed to have kittens regularly. Then his gaze narrowed on the swollen underbelly of the dragon. It reminded him of the cat, especially when she’d been nursing her babies. Maybe she wasn’t on her own? Did she have a hatchling? “Do you have babies?”

The dragon seemed to hang her head, then laid down and curled up a little, but not before he got sent another image that made his heart hurt and his eyes burn. He recognized her in the cave, but this time, she was nursing a newborn hatchling. The sadness came off her in waves, and Attiker desperately wanted to help, but how? Her hatchling had to be dead. Had it wandered to the entrance to the cave and fallen?

“I’m so sorry,” Attiker murmured, hoping that while she couldn’t speak, she might understand. The image of her with the hatchling had come after he’d asked if she was alone.

He didn’t go near her as he could feel the heat, but he unhooked the gloves Gerry had given him and slipped them on. Then he moved forward slowly as she watched. He sat down when he got a foot away and reached out to smooth his hand over one scale. “I wish I could help.”

She raised her head, the ruby eyes looking haunted. Attiker hated asking, but he was running out of time. As soon as this was done, he would come back in secret and see if he could help. The last thing she needed was for any hunters to know about her. Attiker closed his eyes and imagined the dragon lily, then pictured the pods. He had no idea if it worked, but he opened them and asked. “Can you help me find them?”

She looked at him, the hood of her eyes closing completely, then opening again. Then she rose, and Attiker scrambled back out of the way and winced. There had to be a way of her holding him if she was willing without her claws digging in. Very carefully, she extended one foot. Attiker glanced down and noticed it was almost big enough to sit on. Was that what she meant? Carefully, he came closer, then removed his gloves. He couldn’t risk slipping, and he gingerly reached out, but her leg wasn’t that warm. Warmer than his, but not too hot to touch. He sat on top of her foot and scooted closer to her leg. She didn’t seem to mind, so he wrapped both his arms around her leg and said a few prayers. It was awkward because she had to lift the foot to walk to the entrance.

Attiker opened his eyes as the light grew brighter and regretted it immediately because, just at that second, she launched herself from the cave. All he could see was the sheer rock walls rising in every direction and the red haze from the fire below. She seemed to hover, then she tucked her wings in and dove.

A scream ripped out of his burning throat as she plunged down toward the fire. Heat seared his skin, and smoke choked his throat. There was no air. His one thought was regret. He’d failed Raz, and now he wouldn’t even get to say he was sorry.

No, now he wouldn’t ever get to say he loved him.

Chapter twenty-three

Ittookanothersecondafter Attiker had convinced himself he was dead before he realized that while the heat was stifling, the world seemed to have become still. Was he alive? He was still hanging on to the dragon’s leg, but there wasn’t burning air rushing past, and his stomach seemed to be still inside him, not left somewhere above when they’d first dived. An image of the flower, then the pods, came into his mind, and in that instant, he knew it wasn’t him seeing them. He opened his eyes. They were in another cave, smaller and considerably hotter. He tried to take shallow breaths so as not to scorch his throat. He was drenched in sweat, but his eyes were fixed on the flowers growing in the corner and the half dozen pods surrounding it, but more importantly, the wall of the cave glinted and shone a myriad of colors depending on where the light caught it. The cave was full of fire rock crystals. His hands went to his belt, and he unhooked the small hammer, the even smaller knife attached to it, and separated them.

He knew the crystals he could see were damaged. The air of the cave, sweltering to him, wasn’t hot enough to keep them from breaking. He needed to get to the crystals behind the ones he could see. He ran his fingers gently over the wall and tapped at various points. It was impossible to find an intact crystal lying on the ground. The seekers who found the cooler red rock for the market were savvy enough to descend to the initial levels of the mountain. It was still extremely risky, as no humans could simply climb down, no wolves either. In this instance, claws might help, but four legs and the inability to walk vertically wouldn’t. He’d seen the rock hunters, as they called themselves, go off with heavy chains and hooks. Some idiots thought ropes would work, but even those made stronger with a mixture of hemp soaked in wax and clay couldn’t withstand the temperatures down here. There were many hunting parties that returned, minus some individuals desperate enough to try.

Attiker looked back at the dragon and wished he knew her name, if she even had a name. Then, a thought seemed to hit him in the face, and he stilled. She’d had a hatchling, and from the look of the prominent teats on her underbelly, a recent one. Which meant—Attiker swallowed—that somewhere there had to be a mate, a male. Surely? Simple biology dictated that there had to be two. Dragons were a mixture of myth and legend. No one he’d even met took the tales seriously, but if it was true, where was her mate? Had he died, as well? That seemed unlikely. Maybe once the hatchling was born, the male didn’t hang around.

He’d known enough humans like that.

The only animal close to the myth that was dragons was a fire lizard. Another animal probably extinct thanks to the humans thinking they made great pets. About the size of a cat when born, they grew perhaps to the size of a pig, and retained high temperatures, not as hot as down here, but he’d seen one once in a bakery on his travels near the Endless Desert. The cook kept it as a pet, and every day, when his ovens were empty, it would crawl inside to sleep.

The baker—a savvy man—charged extra for his bread because he said it had been cooked by dragon breath, and shown the lizard inside asleep. Utter nonsense, but he was a rich man because of it.

He stared at her again over his shoulder. Her huge ruby eyes were glinting at him. The sorrow in her was still palpable, and he wished he could help. He was definitely returning. He didn’t know what he could do, and the idea was probably imbecilic, but she’d saved his life. His fingers brushed an area that crumbled under them, and Attiker gently felt around the ridge. The area he touched increased in heat as some more ash crumbled, and, heart picking up, he gently scraped the area with his knife. He put his gloves on because while they made him a little less dexterous, he couldn’t touch the surface of the prism without getting badly burned. Slowly, very carefully, he cleared an area in the wall around the size of one of the pods. He’d heard prisms may be bigger, but he had to get it back intact, so small was good. And the challenge hadn’t said size, merely that it should be intact.

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