Page 8 of Redeeming the Dragon

She drew a shuddering breath.

“Either we trust that the dragon will keep his word and protect you, or we doom all of us to a scorching, unimaginable fate.”

Chapter 4

“Mama, no,” Marisa keened. “No, Mama.”

“Father, Mama, you cannot be serious!” Neena sounded angry, as well as horrified. “And who will you send? Who will test the tender mercies of a dragon?”

“I—I do not know,” Father admitted. By the tone of his voice, he was a broken man. “Would to the Light that I had died during that storm!”

“Do not say that, Father,” I shushed.

Throughout this time, even when the dragon’s vision seared my mental eye, my physical gaze remained locked with the monster outside our door. His golden eyes glittered in the gloom. Every so often, his eyelids would drop in a long, slow blink. He resembled the tiny lizards that ran freely about the island, impossible to keep out of our homes and bedchambers. If I hadn’t witnessed the terrifying spectacle of this beast shooting flames into the sky, a living volcano of flesh and scales erupting on the sand outside our door, I might have been fooled into thinking him as harmless and complacent as them.

“I will say it!” he raged. “I should have let myself be taken by the sea. I am your father. I am meant to protect you—”

I could bear it no longer. Not my father’s self-remonstrance. Not Mama’s quiet, muffled sobs. Not my sisters’ anger and tears, no matter how justified. Also, I remembered my earlier promise concerning Father:Please. I will do anything if you’ll spare his life.Filled to the brim with a wildness born of desperation, and the desire to make things right, I spun to face my family.

“I will go with the dragon,” I proclaimed. “Marisa, Neena, no choice must be made. I have made it. You two will remain here. You will marry the men you favor, you will raise babies for Mama and Father to dote on, and you will, I hope, name a daughter after me so that I am not forgotten. That is the end of the matter. I will go with the dragon.”

Syllables began to pour from lips. To seal the matter I whirled, addressing our antagonist.

“I will go with you, Dragon,” I said.

I was not expecting to hear a reply. Apparently, the dragon had spoken into my parents’ minds. This was the first time I’d heard him speak into mine. Though I’d never heard his voice before and had no idea how a beast’s voice would sound, I knew instantly where the words came from.

I accept.

The voice was quiet, sinuous, soft. If a serpent could speak, this is how I would have imagined it to sound.

Meet me at the Wailing Cliffs, on the morrow, as the moon rises. Do not fail to honor your word.

I opened my mouth to speak, to reply verbally, then paused, answering in my mind instead.

I will be there,I said, and though I had capitulated, my voice was cold. Even my mental voice.Have no fear on that score.

Fear?The serpent laughed inside my head. A cold, deadly sound.I have no fear. You are the one who should fear. If you come, you will be safe. No harm shall befall you. If you fail to keep your word, I will annihilate your island. Take heed.

There was no chance to reply before the dragon’s head snapped up. His wings ruffled, and he rose off his belly as he pushed himself onto his massive legs with a great deal of grace and swiftness, given his prodigious size. In an instant, he’d retreated from the house, melding with the receding storm. I heard a curious sound, akin to the sound of laundry hanging on the line snapping in the breeze during a particularly windy day.

His wings.

Mama always groaned when we hung out the wash and a stiff breeze came up, fearing the clothes would be torn to the ground and soiled, then have to be washed again. Complaining about the laundry seemed so small, so silly, in comparison to what we now faced as the newcomer lifted himself into the air. Mere seconds were eclipsed before he was gone, vanishing into the gloomy sky above the clouds.

Unsettling silence fell over our group in the wake of his departure. I think no one knew quite what to say.

I had promised myself to a dragon.

How did one speak to that? How did one respond?

Marisa, at last, splintered the heavy silence by whispering, “Lorna, you will not go, surely? You will not go to the Wailing Cliffs? You cannot mean to sacrifice yourself to a dragon.”

Emotions roiled through me. I wanted to laugh at the silliness of her question. I wanted to shout at its idiocy. I wantedto coldly ignore it.

Instead, drawing a deep breath to calm myself, I faced her and said,

“What else can I do, Marisa? What else can any of us do? Better I be taken by a dragon than our entire island obliterated.”

---