Page 140 of Silverbow
After a long stretch of heartbeats, enough for Enya to realize she still had a heartbeat, she cautiously lifted her chin, not daring to rise from the bow. Firelight danced off the onyx scales on the leg before her. It was tipped in curved black claws, each bigger than her arm. She tried to suppress a flinch, only half successfully, as he whipped his great horned head down to examine her with a massive, golden eye. Catlike, if cats were the size of inns.
Colm had not been able to tell her much of how to approach a dragon, only that they were proud, prickly beasts. Manners were of the utmost importance, he had emphasized. She kept the back of her neck exposed to him, praying he’d understand the deference. The ridiculousness of the gesture floated through her then as she took in teeth the length of her torso. Drulougan the Dread did not need her deference.
He let out a low growl that showed her a glimpse of the blue flame deep in his throat and she whipped her face back to the stone floor, silently cursing the demi-elf. He hadn’t quite relayed his size.
“G-great Drulougan.” Enya hoped her voice did not betray her as his hot, reeking breath clouded over her again. She swallowed, willing herself not to gag at the smell of death. “It is the honor of my life to bow before you.”
She waited. Nothing.
“My…my name is Enya Ryerson Trakbatten. Daughter of Queen Maia Trakbatten, the last rider of Preya the Protector of the Sreskrik clan.”
Your mate, you bloody terrifying…
If dragons didn’t understand speech, she was going to die right here, song or no song. But Drulougan took a step toward her. It was a step that made the stones tremble and her knees buckle. She fought to remain on her feet, holding her bow. He brought his nostril within a hands breadth of her face and drew a long, deep sniff.
She couldn’t help the yelp that escaped her when he nudged her with his nose. It nearly toppled her. He sniffed again. Then, he pulled back, examining her with those golden eyes.
Seeing as she had finished her introduction without being torched, she supposed this meeting was going well. Slowly, she rose from her bow and stood to take in the dragon before her.
Drulougan the Dread was not the size of an inn. No, even in the blackness that seemed to swallow up his edges, he was a manor house. One of the fine ones that belonged to the middling and upper lords. Golden eyes remained fixed on her as she craned her neck to take in savage spikes along his spine and a long, barbed tail that coiled around toward her. One swish of that tail, and she would be splattered on the stones. All of the words she’d been preparing eddied from her head as she gaped at the terrible, magnificent dragon before her. A low growl sent her frantically searching for them.
“I…I have come to admire the magnificence of Preya’s clutch.”
The dragon huffed, blasting her with another breath of hot air, and she flinched. Flattery had been the path she’d chosen. This was not a place to wield a sword or bow, this was a place to bow to ancient pride and vanity.
“The…tales do not do it justice.”
Another huff that may have been satisfaction, amusement, or annoyance, Enya couldn’t tell, but it had been too late to turn back for some time.
“The world waits for the hatchlings of the greatest of Clan Sreskrik and Clan Taradad.”
She knew for certain he understood her then and that she’d struck a nerve. A low rumble set bones rattling. No one had been waiting longer than Drulougan. She waited for the column of flame that would turn her to ash.
When it didn’t come, she said in a rush, “I have come to make you an offer, Great Drulougan.”
The rumble stopped.
“It would be my life’s greatest honor to carry this clutch to the Vale.”
Another rumble started, this one more menacing somehow and she hurried.
“I do not seek the privilege to test the bonding. Only…only to return them to their ancestral home, to the air beneath the mountain sky.”Air that doesn’t smell like this bloody keep.
Drulougan lowered his head and sniffed at her again.
“I-I know what he is. What he did.”
Silence. There was absolute, ear shattering silence as the dragon stilled and examined her with unblinking, golden eyes. She waited for the blow, but it didn’t come, and Enya thought there was something in those eyes. A rage, perhaps.
“Dragons are not meant to be caged.”
Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. Drulougan tipped his head back and belted a jet of fire toward the ceiling that made Enya raise a hand to shield her face from the heat. He swung his head back down to her, glaring.
“Preya the Protector helped my mother leave this place so her line would continue. I only offer the same for her clutch. This is the bargain I offer, without deception or guile: if you allow me the honor of carrying this clutch to the Vale, I will give you my vow to see that they are returned to the Sreskrik nests.”
The dragon let out a growl that rattled her teeth and Enya gulped what she believed may be her last breath of air as she dropped onto one knee, lowering her head and pressing her fist into the cold stone floor.
She wondered who that skull belonged to. Had he been a prisoner thrown to the dragons? A wayward keeper? A fool like her? Enya watched a bead of sweat drip from her nose onto the floor stones.
