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Once Kavad emerged from the hatch, his body strewn over small gravel, he instantly flung one hand over his burning eyes. There was something above: something that shone with the light of at least a thousand torches. Though he had no idea what it was, he was convinced it must be a god. Peeking through fingers adorned with rings of gold, he prepared to confront the enemy who could often be heard from Dardan emitting their high-pitched shrieks But to his surprise, it was not armed warriors whom Kavad spied. No, it was—some kind of snake?—but enormous, spanning a full twenty feet, and, what was more, sported thin wings attached to its yellow back.
“Don’t hurt me!” Kavad cried, hurling off his pack to spill out its contents. The dragon (for, according to legend, that’s what it must be), seemed to be acquainted with gold. It even smiled, crawling forward on its front claws to seize the back of his cloak. Kavad felt himself climbing into a blue expanse, across that yellow orb which so assailed his eyes.
His captor, the yellow dragon, flapped on for some time, creating a wind until it slowed to a glide. It landed smoothly before a complex of stone openings, then skid to a halt upon a flat boulder. Never having been in the Bērūn before, Kavad had no idea what those openings were—he was just glad to be alive. The dragon put him down and began to nudge him toward the largest opening. Peering in, Kavad saw it fronted a cave. Well, at least this was familiar. But he felt sheer terror when he at last entered.
This cave was filled by dragons of every conceivable hue: some with scales of red, others gold, while a few had mixed swirl, stripes, and even circles. They were all about the size of Kavad’s new yellow friend . . . except one. This red beast stood on a stone platform, three times the size of the others, its scales seeming to gleam as if with a sheen of gold. Its expression, though reptilian, seemed to Kavad to project haughtiness, and almost, he thought, a sneer.
As the dragon lifted a claw, black talons curved in the half-light, the beasts assembled before it ceased their quiet growls. The red one began to “speak,” if you could call it that. From its mouth came a series of roars, hisses, and even a spout of flame. After what must have been its “introduction,” the red dragon turned his head, one black pupil glaring at Kavad.
So used to obeisance, Kavad didn’t hesitate before falling to his knees. He made a deep salaam, happy to stay like this forever.
“I see we have a guest,” the red dragon roared, in words that Kavad understood. “I assume, human, that you are from Dardan or Šahr.”
“Dardan,” Kavad breathed, his nose bent against stone.
“I am Sangal,” said the beast. “What brings the rat to the surface?”
Kavad took this to mean he could rise, and stood up on shaky legs.
“A–a proposition, great Sangal.”
“From a rat? Very well, I am curious.”
“Where I was found, great ebren, there are packs filled with gold coins. And this is just a glimpse of what exists in our zarr. The S̆āh’s mines are overflowing and he can certainly spare you more.”
“Well spoken,” said Sangal. “Fate must have brought us together, for I too have a plan.” Kavad didn’t move. “Your defection alone cannot produce more gold. But stemming the city’s water supply—now that is the way to do it.”
“But, excellent Sangal,” Kavad said, forgetting for a moment whom he spoke to, “my zand holds massive aqueducts.”
“That is a point,” said the ebren, “though a decidedly poor one. Do you happen to know their ultimate source?”
Kavad shook his head.
“I beg you, Dragon King, please forgive my ignorance.”
“I am much more than a king,” huffed Sangal. “I appreciate that you Dardans never had a chance to get out, but know that my river feeds you every drop.” Kavad started. This was news indeed. “And if my flight and I flap over it, we will raise an amount of debris that renders its waters useless.” The dragon seemed to grow restless. “I planned to send an ebren to Dardan as a messenger of sorts, but you’ll do even better. Inform the S̆āh: Unless my tithe of gold is increased to seven-eighths of the zarr’s treasure, with the number of sacrifices raised to thrice of what it is now, his zand and precious kingdom will shortly go extinct.” Sangal smiled, revealing his vicious teeth. “As an immortal,” he said, “I have seen many things. Whole cities devoured by sand when their water ceased flowing.”
Before Kavad could answer, the yellow ebren who’d brought him nudged him out of the lair, grabbing his cloak to reverse their journey. Before long, it dropped Kavad at the Dardan main gate, where he adjusted his clothing, then knocked. As the dragon flew off, a small stone peephole flung open, revealing one dark pupil.
“Who goes there?” shouted the guard.
“It is I, Kavad, newly returned from the dead, and you will allow me to enter since I am the vassal of Sangal.”
