See Peter Last's blog, http://www.peterlast.com/blog for the odd-numbered parts of this story...
“So where can I find her?” Wyatt
asked.
The
dragon, who had been lounging in a loose semicircle of scaled flesh,
straightened. Huge muscles rippled sinuously as he pulled his haunches under
himself. Now sitting upright, tail curled around his feet like cat, the dragon
looked far more menacing than a furry feline. Though his head, on a long neck,
was lowered toward Wyatt, the ridge of the beast’s shoulders was still fifteen
feet off the ground.
Wyatt
swallowed convulsively, unconsciously scooting slightly backward from the
dragon.
“She
dwells in a far land,” the dragon began dreamily. His voice had deepened and
become almost melodic. “Across the Sea of Thrack, on a small island in the Bay
of Barmus. There is a high mountain on the island there, and she lives in a
cottage on the north side of the mountain, overlooking the sea.”
Wyatt
blinked. “That…sounds far,” he said cautiously. He knew the Sea of Thrace; his
village was about fifty miles from the coast. But he had never heard of this
Bay of Barmus.
“It
is many days’ journey,” the dragon agreed. “Longer, if one has no wings.” His
own wings rattled faintly as he refolded them along his back. The dragon bared
many long, sharp teeth in a terrifying smile. “I suggest you start on your
journey soon.”
“But…but…”
Wyatt sputtered. “How am I supposed to get across the Sea? Much less find this
island? And how will I know who this woman is, to find her?”
The
tip of the dragon’s tale flicked up and then banged into the cave floor with
impressive force, sending a cloud of dust billowing upward. “That,” he growled,
a hint of fire flickering in the back of his throat as he spoke, “is not my
problem.”
“But
that’s not fair,” Wyatt protested, ignoring the wild gesticulations Jim was
making.
The
dragon lunged. Wyatt scrambled backward until he ran into the wall. With
nowhere to go, he was forced to stare into one of the dragon’s deep golden eyes,
the beast’s nose a scant inch from his own. “Fair?” the dragon growled, his
breath painfully hot on Wyatt’s face. “Did you not come to this cave to kill
me, human? If it would be less trouble, I could eat you instead.”
Wyatt
couldn’t breathe, and he was fairly certain his heart had actually stopped
beating altogether.
“Well?”
the dragon roared, his voice beating against Wyatt’s body with the force of a
hammer. “What shall it be, human?”
“I…,”
Wyatt’s voice broke off in a cough, and he tried again. “I will find this woman
for you.”
As
suddenly as he had lunged, the dragon returned to his sitting position, tail
once again curling around his great, clawed feet. “Excellent choice,” he
rumbled. “Now get out of my sight.”
Without
turning his back on the dragon, Wyatt eased along the wall until he felt the
emptiness of the tunnel mouth behind them. Only then did he turn, scurrying up
the tunnel with impressive haste. He barely even noticed when he banged his
shins several times on rocks. Bursting out into the open night air, Wyatt slumped
against the cliff wall and gasped for breath.
“You
really need to work on your conversational skills,” Jim said by his elbow, and
Wyatt jumped about four feet in the air. The old gypsy regarded him mildly. “With
a little politeness, you could have gotten a lot more information from the
dragon.”
“Sorry,
I guess my mother never taught me to be polite to dragons,” Wyatt spat, fear
and tension making him snappish.
“Clearly,”
Jim said dryly. “Look, you’d better put some distance between you and the
dragon for now. Here, use this rope to climb down,” he said, rummaging in a
large satchel hanging from his shoulder.
Wyatt
took the rope, his head tipping to the side. “Why are you helping me?” he
asked.
Jim
looked at him, old eyes sharp in the moonlight. “Just be glad I am,” he said
shortly.
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