Masteress Meenore drew breath to start ITs song again and heard His Lordship calling. From where? The tumult distorted sound, but a breeze momentarily tattered the smoke that blanketed Zertrum. IT saw His Lordship, running, one shoulder lower than the other, with two people clinging to that shoulder—running in the wrong direction, away from IT.
As IT chased His Lordship, IT devised a plan, though IT doubted there would be time. IT flew over them, turned, came down on a steep slope a few yards from the mouth of an enormous cave, probably newly made.
“Meenore! You came for me.”
IT enjoyed for a sliver of a moment the humans’ terrified faces. “Put your cargo on my back.”
His Lordship nodded and reached for the two. He glanced up the mountain. A river of molten rock flowed toward them as fast as gravy from a ewer.
No time to take the people and fly, IT thought. No time for His Lordship to shape-shift.
But they might reach the cave.
His Lordship saw, too, and sprinted toward it, still bearing the people. Masteress Meenore, who could only lumber on land, flapped ITs wings to give IT speed.
They reached the cave in time as the molten rock poured down. IT didn’t mind the temperature, but IT couldn’t fly through the flow. The people and His Lordship would soon die of the heat. Already their faces were red and strained.
Coursing up through ITs claws came Zertrum’s rumble, this time far more powerful than anything that had gone before. The explosion was certainly moments away. Even a dragon couldn’t survive that.
How strange, IT thought, accepting ITs fate, to die in this foreign place, attempting to save people and an ogre and becoming for eternity the good dragon. Enh enh enh.