Testing the Dragons

Dev had spent a restless night in the village, lying on a cold floor and trying to sleep. Trying to justify the fact that he was hiding from the dragons when maybe he should be defending his palace. Or meeting his grandfather. Or sleeping on his sofa. In Grimere, he’d reasoned, people walked around without the dragons bothering them. But this seemed different. The last time the Revinir had roared, it had been a command to kill him. Did that command expire after Drock had caught him mid-fall and taken him away? Or would these dragons still have that goal in mind if they discovered it was him?

It’s not like the dragons had seemed to care that he’d been standing at the edge of the property earlier. But what if he took the lengthy trek from the orchard through the brush and up the hill, and went halfway across the open courtyard to the center tower—that was the part that frightened him the most. If the dragons decided they were interested in him after all, if they came for him once he stepped onto the property, he had no place to hide. They’d catch him for sure. Whether he made a run for the tower or back to the village, he wouldn’t be able to beat them.

He’d thought about food. Could he catch some fish and use it to bribe them? Or perhaps the dragons went to the river to drink and eat at some point? That was it. He’d get close enough to spy and wait for them to go to the river.

And that’s exactly where he’d been sitting for hours in the early-morning fog, waiting for at least one of the dragons to go to the river so his chances of being eaten were lessened. Not long ago all four had moved toward the tower, but then they’d retreated. Dev had held his ground and continued to wait. Then he saw the movement way up in his library window. The person, whoever it was, was still up there.

He sat up as the person looked out. He couldn’t make out any features. The angle was too sharp, and the sun was bouncing off the dusty glass, obscuring his view with a glare. He didn’t feel afraid to be seen—humans weren’t his enemies these days. Maybe Ashguard or whoever it was could help if he wasn’t hiding from the dragons. Keeping his eye on the great red beasts, Dev stood up and took a few slow steps forward through the brush, trying not to make any sudden movements that might set the dragons in motion.

They looked at him but didn’t move. Dev kept walking. His heart began to pound, and his scales rose on his arms and legs, snagging his new wool skirt. “Everybody just stay where you are,” he muttered under his breath. “Nothing is happening here.” He kept his head down, watching from the corner of his eye, first one dragon, then the other.

The front dragon made a noise and shook out its wings. It took a step toward him. Dev kept walking, picking up his pace slightly, acutely aware of where he was in relationship to safety at every moment. He reached the halfway point. If the dragon charged now, Dev was better off running for the tower than for the orchard and village.

He began the climb up the hill and two more red dragons at the far corners of the property came into view. Great. They turned toward him, and one rose up to get a better view, then rumbled and spat a spray of fire. Dev pretended he was a townsperson in Dragonsmarche going about his business and didn’t slow down. He reached the edge of the courtyard and headed between two of the small towers, aiming for the larger one in the center of the property. His tower. Who would he find inside? At this point, he didn’t care. If it was anyone other than the gray man, he’d make them leave.

None of the dragons took more than a few steps toward him. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, Dev sprinted the last few steps to the middle tower doorway and darted inside. The foxes startled but then settled when they saw him. He said a few soothing words to comfort them and himself. And then he started up the stairwell as fast as he could climb.

Halfway up he heard a noise and whirled around. Had the dragons come after him? He peered anxiously out of the windows and saw they were still in their corners. With a sigh of relief he turned. And there, on the curve of the stairwell several steps above him, was a shocking sight.

“You’re alive,” said Fifer softly.

Dev sucked in a breath and stared at her. “Yes,” he whispered. And then, overcome by the sight of an ally, he gripped the handrail and doubled over, feeling pain and hope and fear crash together inside him. “Oh gods,” he whispered. “It’s you.” He suppressed a sob and covered his eyes, then looked again to make sure it was really Fifer. And that she was really wearing the head mage robe of Artimé. “You came.”

Fifer nodded, her expression cracking with emotion at the sight of his tears. She went down one more step uncertainly, then another. “Do you… want… help?”

Dev nodded, overcome. He climbed the step to her and slipped his arms around Fifer’s waist in a hug.

“Oh,” said Fifer, stiffening in surprise. After a moment she reached around him, too. Then she gently pressed his head against her shoulder, feeling his sobs. His warm tears soaked into her robe. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening to make him react like this. But whatever experiences he’d been through since she’d seen him last had obviously changed him.

She reckoned she’d changed a bit since then too.