Page 146 of Edge of the Wild

Erik snorted. “You might have to fight me for that chance.”

Beside him, Oliver swayed out of his grip.

“Ollie, what–”

“Oh,” Oliver said. “Oh.”

The dragon gave another of its high shrieks, and rushed past them out the gate, galloping in an awkward, undulating way across the snow, toward the mouth of the cave where they’d been held prisoner.

Oliver took a lunging step after it.

“Ollie, wait!”

But he was already gone.

Erik followed.

~*~

Oliver slipped on a patch of ice at the mouth of the cave, and was saved by the timely, strong grip of a hand on the back of his tunic.

“What are you doing?” Erik demanded.

Oliver tried to tug loose. “He’s leading me somewhere. There’s something down here.”

“Probably bones,” Birger said.

“Probably more cannibals.” That was Leif.

Ahead, Percy’s white, spiked tail whipped around a corner, the ice around him flashing with the reflection of it.

“Come with me if you want,” Oliver said, “but I’m going.” He could feel his fever flaring up again, his skin itchy, warm, and tight, his head throbbing.

Erik sighed, but followed, keeping his grip on Oliver’s tunic.

The tunnel took a few shallow turns, and the icicles and ice sheets on every surface offered sunlight where there should have been none, a kaleidoscope of fractured colors. Oliver could hear Percy’s claws clicking over the stone floor.

They walked and walked, Erik steadying him every time he tripped – which was often. His head hurt terribly, and his eyes ached, and he wanted to lie down. But this wasthecave, and he needed to see, needed to understand–

Ahead, the light changed. A slow, bright blue tinge that swelled out, and out, growing stronger, painting everything in monochrome.

“This is it,” he said. “This is my dream.”

Everything was blue, and then came the growl, low, deep, and pulsing, but it didn’t frighten him now, not even a little.

“Is that a bear?” Leif asked.

And Magnus: “That is no bear.”

“No,” Oliver said, and with one last burst of speed and strength twisted out of Erik’s grip and rounded the next corner.

The cell here was low; Percy had to duck to fit. There were no bars, like there had been, but a weaving of thick ropes; a whole net of them, dripping ice. And beyond, a dragon. Two dragons.

One was smaller than Percy, the other much more so. Both wore heavy silver collars and shackles that no Fang had made; silver chains trailed across the floor, hooked to brackets in the wall, where two sapphires big as eggs had been inlaid into the stone and ice; they were glowing.

Percy gave a low, mournful sound, and nosed at the rope netting.

The two dragons, white cold-drakes like him, lay curled up together, eyes closed, sleeping.

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