She was obviously exhausted from the climb down.
Emeline paused at the entrance, trying to shake off the feeling, then continued into the cavern. Cold, damp air kissed her skin. When she whispered Hawthorne’s name, he didn’t respond.
Emeline strode onwards until her boot kicked something in the darkness. She tripped, nearly fell, then crouched to look.
A sea of yellowed human bones lay scattered at her feet.
She abruptly stood, swallowing down the sick feeling pushing up from her stomach.
Find Hawthorne,she told herself. And get out of here.
But the deeper in she went, the darker it grew. Not wanting to wake the sleeping dragon outside, Emeline called Hawthorne’s name as loudly as she dared. Had he fallen down some crevice? Was he dead?
Suddenly, a torch flame appeared in the distance, farther up the cavern. The orange smudge of it bobbed in the dark, growing larger as it drew near.
“What are you doing?” he called out. “You’re—”
“Claw’s asleep,” she whispered back. “We have to go. The sheet music isn’t here.”
As he came closer, she saw twin flames reflected in his eyes. The light of the torch limned his face with black shadows. “How—”
“No time.” She grabbed his arm, tugging him back towards the entrance. “Claw knew you were in here. He said you wouldn’t find the music.”
Hawthorne lowered his voice to a whisper. “And where is he now?”
In answer, something moved in the darkness, rasping against the stone floor. Goose bumps rushed across her skin as a cold awareness set in. Hawthorne stepped in front of Emeline, shielding her as he raised the blazing torch, its glow radiating outwards.
When silver scales flashed in the dark, Emeline felt the sudden heat of a massive body. And then: Claw stepped into the light, snarling as he loomed over them.
Hawthorne pressed Emeline back just as Claw lashed out. One massive paw hit Hawthorne square in the chest, sending him sprawling. He grunted as his shoulders hit the floor.
The dragon pounced, pinning him beneath sharp claws. As Claw’s jaws slid open, gobs of drool dripped from his teeth.
The torch rolled away from Hawthorne’s hand, guttering.
“No!” Emeline snatched up the torch and the flame flared anew. “We had a deal!”
“Indeed,” Claw rumbled.“You sang me a song I did not detest. So I will let you walk away with the sheet music.”The dragon stared at the tithe collector pinned beneath his paw.“You.Not him.”
Suddenly, Claw’s body shivered, then clenched. A liquid noise surged from his stomach as he heaved. Drool bubbled along his lips.
He looked like a cat that was about to vomit.
Up it came, like some kind of giant hairball: a dark brown satchel coated in glistening saliva. It landed with a stickythudat Emeline’s feet.
“Take it and go.”
She picked up the satchel, trying not to gag. It smelled sour, like stomach acid, and stuck to her hands like tree sap. She untied the slippery twine and pushed back the leather flap. Milkysheets of vellum lay within. Across their translucent surfaces, elegant black notes tumbled from bar to bar, untouched by saliva.
The Song Mage’s sheet music.
Claw turned back to his prey, increasing the pressure of his paw. Emeline glanced from the music to Hawthorne, who arched his throat, straining against the dragon pushing down on his chest.
Claw was going to crush him to death.
“I need him,” she burst out. “To get me back to the palace.”
“Is there not an ember mare waiting atop this cliff? Take it and return to the palace yourself.”Claw flexed his sharp nails and dark red blood bloomed across Hawthorne’s shoulder.“Trust me,singer. You don’t need this one.”
