Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
And I never want to let go of him.
Lemi whines beside me, licking the back of my head, then leaning against me as if he knows that I’ll collapse at any minute.
And my loyal friend stays there as the air grows cool and the sky grows dark, blending into twilight. In another world we would be back on the boat already. Instead I’m here. And I belong here on this forsaken land. More than I do on a ship, more than I do at Stormglen, more than I do in the Dark City.
The Midlands, a realm of fire and beasts, is where I should lay my head.
This is where I should stay.
This is where I should die.
Why didn’t we take suen from the egg of immortality before we came here, just in case?
I kiss the top of Andor’s head. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “My love.”
Suddenly Lemi growls.
I slowly raise my head, prepared for the end to come soon. You can’t hang out by a dead deathdrage for long before you attract attention.
From the narrow cave to the side, something lurks, glowing green eyes in the dark.
Lemi’s growl deepens and he steps away from me, the hair on his back raised, focused on the cave.
“Lemi,” I manage to say. Whatever happens, I’ll have to make sure he’s not hurt. I’ll give my life for him with ease. “Lemi, stay back.”
The green eyes blink.
And then a dragon steps forward.
About twenty feet tall, half the size of a deathdrage.
Metallic blue.
Two heads with long, fine snouts.
“Oh my gods,” I whisper, nearly choking on the words.
It’s the slangedrage, the one that lays the eggs of immortality.
It walks toward us, an even gait, tail swinging back and forth.
Lemi barks wildly, putting himself between me and the dragon.
“Lemi, please!” I scream at him. “Lemi, stop! Go back, go back, let me be!”
But Lemi doesn’t listen. He runs at the dragon and I know I’m about to lose my best friend.
The dragon keeps walking.
Completely ignores him.
It keeps coming straight for me.
Closer and closer until I can smell its hot breath, sulfur and the sea.
Both heads peer down at me.
“Go,” I whisper. “Please.”
The dragon lowers one head and grasps Andor’s legs in them.
Oh no, please no.
“Stop,” I say. “Let him be.”
But the other head comes for me now, about to bite my own head off.
I close my eyes, refusing to let go of Andor’s body.
Teeth pinch at my arm, grazing the skin without breaking it.
And suddenly a weight is lifted.
I open my eyes to see Andor’s upper body in the dragon’s mouth, the other half held by the other set of teeth.
I stare in awe, unsure what to do, what’s happening.
Then the dragon carefully turns around, keeping its heads together so that Andor’s body remains intact.
It turns, its tail whipping alongside me, and starts slowly walking back to the cave.
“Stop!” I yell. I try to get to my feet but my ankle gives out and I go tumbling into the scree. I start picking up the pebbles and pelting them at the dragon, each one bouncing off its blue hide, and still the dragon doesn’t stop.
Meanwhile Lemi is trotting after it, barking as he goes.
“Lemi!” I scream but no to avail.
I try to get to my feet again, wincing as I have to put all my weight on the other leg. I start shuffling forward at an angle, grunting in pain as I try my best to hurry after Lemi and the dragon. Now the dragon has already reached the cave and has gone inside, and Lemi runs in after it, disappearing into the shadows.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I swear, moving faster now, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain that wants to bring me to my knees. My body is releasing some sort of chemical to keep me going and I let it run through my body, until the pain doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
I limp into the cave, yelling and pleading for Lemi to come back.
Then I come to a stop.
And can’t believe my eyes. Lemi is standing right in front of me, staring at the dragon, which lowers Andor’s body to the ground, gently, as if with reverence.
Right in front of a bubbling pool of lava.
“No,” I whisper. “This can’t be.”
But the lava pool, with its small channel that runs off it, is exactly the same as the one in my vision, the molten fire causing a faint glow that illuminates the cave.
I stare at the middle of the pool, daring it to come true, to be real.
And yet even when it starts to move, like waves in an ocean, I still can’t believe it, not until the top of a head emerges.
Then a full head.
A woman’s head.
Her hair, her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. Torso, hips, thighs, calves.
All of it made from swirling magma, shades of red and orange and blinding yellow, flowing in some places, like her stomach and down the middle of her thighs, hardened into cooled lava in others, like her breasts, hips, hands. Her face is like rock, most of her features obscured.