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So? Hyperion turns toward Azar, waiting to see what he says.
I’m actually impressed his much larger, much older brother hasn’t yanked the reins of command from Azar. I figured that would take about two seconds, but he still yields to whatever Azar commands, at least, so far he has. Mostly.
But instead of worrying about preserving the mountain and the structural integrity of the volcano, Azar just says, Get on my back where you’ll be safe.
“Safe?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Safe. . .while you and your idiot brother fire blast a volcano? What do you think is going to happen, exactly?”
We have nothing to fear from flames, little one, Hyperion says. And neither do you. Not while you’re with us.
“What about the creatures trapped inside the lava? What about them?”
I doubt they can burn more than they already are. Hyperion’s quite the comedian all of a sudden. But if they do, I’m not going to worry. That one didn’t look like he was following you to ask you a question. It looked aggressive.
But they’re obviously going to do whatever they want, and I don’t have much room to stop them. I really don’t want to confront the demons myself, so I climb up on Azar’s back. As always, the second I’ve grabbed the handles of the saddle, he takes off, Hyperion on his tail. Both of them fly around in a large loop, and then come back toward the tunnel, blasting it with the full force of their firepower.
At first, the black rock turns bright red.
But then it explodes.
And they keep right on burning it, stopping periodically and circling around, possibly to recharge? Each time one section explodes, chunks of burning rock rain down overhead, but Azar must be doing something, because all of the chunks that come within a few feet of me turn back to black. When they pelt me in the head and face, and when they slam into my arms and legs, they’re hot, but they don’t burn me.
It’s relatively slow going, but their flames are more tightly controlled than I realize, and before too long, they’ve opened up the side of the mountain, exposing the tunnel’s path right into the cavern and its lava ledge.
“That’s enough,” I shout.
There’s no way Hyperion can hear me, so I gather up all my mental energy and say, It’s done. You reached it.
They both stop, suspended in air, wings flapping slowly, and watch as the red rock on either side of the tunnel flashes angrily.
“You realize that I can’t possibly land on any of that?”
The bond’s a bright green—humor, maybe? Happiness at least. He begins flapping his wings much harder, but he’s holding the angle so that we don’t fly in any particular direction. It takes me a second, but I realize that he’s fanning the rocks.
And I’m removing the heat, one section at a time.
I always forget that he can do that. It makes me think about a law of physics, though. Energy conservation or something like that. “Where does that heat go?”
Think of us like flying furnaces, Hyperion says. We can store up all that heat inside and unleash it whenever necessary.
“That’s handy,” I say. “But how long will it take before—” Hyperion must be helping, because as I ask, the last of the red rock turns black. “You two are a little frightening.”
But we’ll never harm you, Azar says. And with us around, no one else will, either.
I notice that Hyperion doesn’t bother echoing his brother’s promise. I suppose if Azar trusts him, that’s enough for me. Azar doesn’t seem to trust anyone, really, and Hyperion did show up just in time to keep that horned beast from pouncing on me.
The very horned beasts that we’re now here looking for.
Azar lands, and I slide off his back. The black stone under my feet is still warm—uncomfortably so—but it’s not burning through the soles of my boots, so I guess that means it’s fine. It surprises me a bit that Azar lets me take the lead, marching ahead of my two dragon guards into the cavern turned lava-viewing overhang.
But when the first horned creature spots me, it acts like it’s nothing new. Like we didn’t just blast our way in here. They’re just milling around and churning, your typical demon-horned creatures. No dragons visible at all.
What is it we’re looking for? Hyperion asks.
“Can you see them?” I turn around, studying the dragons’ faces for recognition.
See what? Azar asks.
“You can’t see the horned people swimming through the lava?”
