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I straighten my shirt, roll my shoulders and neck, then walk forward into the dark. The tunnels are dotted with luminescent plant growths that give just enough light to be able to see, mostly. The luminescence doesn’t cast shadows, but it doesn’t have to. The dark is so thick as to almost take on a level of malevolent feeling intelligence. As if it is waiting just beyond the dim light plotting its ultimate take over.
Enough with the dark thoughts. I’ve got this. Don’t think about the fact that the fate of an entire species is resting on my shoulders. Oh good. Thanks for that thought, thoughts. No pressure. Right. Gada.
I turn a corner and continue follow the instructions that Dilacs gave me. He made me repeat them six times before he was confident I had them. I’m so nervous, but I focus on one foot in front of the other, watching for traps which Dilacs also educated me on.
Another corner, then one more and I see the firelight of the Zmaj guard station. I pause, hold my breath and count to ten, then stride forward feigning a confidence I do not feel.
“Halt, who goes?”
I stop the moment I’m challenged and raise my hands into the air.
“I’m Gweneth,” I respond.
“Gweneth? Human?”
“Yes,” I say, slowly walking forward.
Two hulking shadows are backlit by the fire. My heart does some weird fluttering when I first see them. Their wings rising above their shoulders, the breadth of them, just the familiarity and sense of safety that the sight of them brings. The Zmaj saved my entire race. I have no doubt without them we’d be dead, but that doesn’t mean they are without their flaws. Especially these Cavern Zmaj.
As I come closer the shadows recede and the Zmaj come into focus. I don’t recognize either one of them but then I have never made an effort to get to know every Zmaj. The gleaming blades of their lochabers rise over their shoulders, set between their wings. The edge of the blades reflects the firelight glinting a deadly greeting.
“What are you doing out in the tunnels?” one of them asks.
The other one crosses his arms over his barrel shaped chest, frowning deep enough that it pulls his horns down onto his forehead.
“I need to speak to Rosalind,” I say.
He arches an eyebrow while the other one snorts.
“Humans,” the one behind the barrier says with a shrug when the one confronting me looks over at him.
“No,” the one in front of me says. “You need to see the Al’fa. He will decide what happens next. You broke the rules.”
My heart flutters under the cold brush of fears icy touch.
“Please,” I say. “I am happy to speak with the Al’fa, of course, but first I need to see Rosalind. It’s very, very important.”
“Important to who?” he asks.
Who? You, idiot. The Urr’ki. Everyone. My mission is vital.
I can’t say any of my thoughts because I know they will get me nowhere. I swallow the angry retorts and resort to something I know the Zmaj respond to. Tears. It’s not hard. I’m so freaking stressed out they’re there waiting for their moment anyway. All I have to do is quit holding them back and take one look at how bleak the future is if Dilacs and I don’t succeed. It’s more than enough push to get the waterworks flowing.
Though my vision is blurry I see it’s working. The Zmaj wings open part way, his tail slaps the floor, and he raises his arms then drops them to his side, shaking his head and looking over at the other one. The other one shrugs, sighs, then makes a motion with his hands.
“I’ll get her,” he says. “You two stay here.”
“Thank you,” I say, not having to fake the sobs.
Honestly, it’s a relief to let it out. I’ve held in so many emotions, so much fear, more than fear, terror and now that I’ve opened the box it rushes out like I’m Pandora. The tears are, in a strange way, cleansing. They let the pain go. The fear. I don’t bother trying to stop them or hold them back, I need this.
The Zmaj guides me behind the low barrier at the opening of the table then looks around. He finds a stool that he places for me and then he hands me a skin of liquid, urging me to take a drink.
I do and though I hate the content, it’s the weird milk stuff the Cavern Zmaj seem to enjoy, I appreciate the sentiment. The milk is thick and always leaves a coating on my tongue along with a strong sour aftertaste. I stop after a sip and hand it back.
“It won’t be long,” he mutters, continuously glancing between me and the path into the compound.
He’s looking for his companion or more specifically release. It’s clear how uncomfortable he is. His wings rustle and his tail makes a raspy sound as it twitches across the stone floor. I lower my head and let my hair fall over my face while I wait.
