Page 14 of Cage Me

Cage drove into the Danish countryside until he reached a hilly area. He hated being underground so the cave hidden in the brush at the top of the hill was a good compromise. He'd spent years here as a child, secreting away his favorite treasures and carving out the rock to let slivers of sunshine into the cave. This had been his secret hideout, the place he went to practice shifting into his dragon form as a youngling. There was an old magic in these hills that had drawn him to it and helped him master his shifting skills.

It was almost uncomfortable to come here now knowing that he had lost the majority of that hard work, but something had him here and his gut told him to listen. Perhaps there was armor or a weapon hidden in this lair that might be able to help him survive on this quest.

He hiked up into the hills for a good hour, feeling the wards that had been placed to deter humans and other paranormal beings alike from finding his cave.

To him they were nothing more than little zips of electricity, but to anyone snooping they would get a sense of dread or fear from being here. The closer he got, the more the magic swelled. Oh yeah, whatever was pulling him really wanted to make sure he didn't leave without finding it.

Cage stepped through a layer of creeping vines that covered the cave entrance and into the darkness. He called upon the light of the sun and a glowing orb formed in his hand and lit his way. He walked past suits of armor, chests filled with gold, and ancient weapons that wouldn't do him any good if he came face-to-face with the Black Dragon, like swords. It didn't take him long to find what had been calling to him. Tucked back onto a natural shelf along the cave wall a golden hand mirror glowed in the darkness.

He vaguely remembered being attracted to the object. It was very old and the handle was decorated in jewels and carvings of scales that rippled as he touched it. He’d always imagined it had been a present from a dragon to his mate.

Great.

What was he supposed to do with a mirror?

For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw a face in the reflection that was not his own. It was gone before he could blink.

Okay, fine. Maybe the universe was looking out for him by making sure he had a gift for Azynsa.

Cage wrapped the mirror in a scrap from an old tapestry and pocketed it. It felt warm against his thigh.

He returned to his car and raced to the small private airfield, wanting to get in the air as soon as possible.

This was no average airport. The hangers were filled with vintage airplanes, mostly from World War II. The shack that served as the radio tower was filled with vintage flyers to. Mostly veterans of the past few wars.

Cage liked to flaunt his money, but he also used it for good causes. The majority of the men who hung around here had been severely injured in the line of duty and were forced to give up flying for their countries.

Cage started a little organization to allow these vets to fly. He understood their need to be in the air more now than ever before.

His father had balked when he’d first wanted gold dragons to learn to fly airplanes when they began to appear at the beginning of the twentieth century.

He’d realized humans were in the air to stay and defied his father by joining up with the RAF during the second world war. His compatriots had treated him like a young whipper-snapper, or so they’d called him. To them he was only about eighteen back then, even though at the start of the war he’d been exactly one-hundred years old.

They’d given him his due when they saw how naturally he commanded his plane through the air. He’d taken to airplanes like a duck in the sky.

Since then, a handful of other gold dragons of his generation had become pilots in every military with flyers in the world. The ones who’d served their time rotated through on assignment to staff this place and make sure the planes and the pilots got in and out of the air safely.

Cage had a lot of other charities he supported, but this was the one he liked hanging out at the most.

He called ahead and had one of his more modern little turboprops fueled and ready for the flight to Malabo. There was only time for a super quick check in with his dragons who confirmed he was set and ready to go, his plane, the only one cleared for take-off.

There were lots of vets hanging around today and he hated to ground them but, just today, his flight needed to take priority.

One of his vets stood next to his plane, examining the props. He still had the build of a warrior, even despite the prosthetic arm. Cage could tell this man had stories he’d like to hear. If he made it back, this guy would be the first one he’d seek out to go flying with. Today, he’d have to ask him to return to the hangar.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Sparkling eyes that had so many facets in them Cage couldn’t tell what color they were stared across at him. “I wondered when you’d finally show up. Taking your sweet time getting in the air.”

“Yeah, I had to stop—” How did this strange old guy know anything about Cage’s itinerary?

“Son, let me tell you a thing or two about independent women.”

First, he'd chided Cage about taking his time, now he wanted to chat about women? Just who was this? No ordinary aging veteran, that was for sure.

“As you stated, sir, I need to get in the air ASAP.”

“You can bluster and blow, plead and persuade them all you want, but once they've made up their mind about something, well you just better go with it, because there's no changing it. Remember that, will you?”

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