Maybe she could sense the figurine, almost a miniature version of herself. Or maybe notalmost. Could it possibly have been crafted tobea representation of this dragon?
As those slitted golden eyes locked onto Syla, she couldn’t help but tremble, both from fear at such an awesomely terrifying predator and from the concern that she couldn’t possibly heal a dragon so she wouldn’t live to see dawn. She’d meant to find a shielder to help her people, not call down a living nightmare to kill her.
“Your Highness!” the soldier who’d been assigned to guard her window cried, tearing his gaze from the approaching dragon when he noticed that she’d opened it.
Such shock and horror stamped his face that she paused with one foot on the sill. She’d been about to climb out, but she’d forgotten about him.
The dragon descended lower, her glide deceptively fast as she sailed over the wall. The soldier sprang for Syla.
She lurched back, ducking down below the sill an instant before he passed through the window. He clipped her as he twisted in the air, trying to grab her and carry her deeper into the room with him. But she rolled sideways, flattening her spectacles to her face to keep them from flying off. She landed awkwardly, ramming into a bookcase, as he landed deftly on his feet.
“Your Highness,” he blurted, reaching for her as he looked toward the window, his eyes widening as the dragon filled the view.
Syla stood and backed away from him, but the bookcase impeded her retreat. The soldier caught her wrist with one hand as he used the other to shut the window.
If there’d been time, Syla would have laughed at the notion that a glass window casement would keep out a dragon.
Their scaled visitor didn’t crash through it the way she’d expected. As the red dragon filled their view, Syla realized she wasfar too large to fly through a window or even a doorway. Instead, she landed on the roof above, and her long tail, as thick as a mature aspen, slapped down. It smashed through the window, obliterating the glass and knocking the soldier halfway across the room. He released Syla or she would have gone flying too.
A deafening screech came from above, followed by snapping and wrenching sounds that sent Syla to her knees. She almost dropped the figurine as she pressed her hands to her ears. A huge section of the roof tore away as beams snapped and wood pieces slammed to the floor. A section of the ceiling crashed down onto the soldier, half-burying him.
Using her maw, the dragon, now visible through a jagged gap above them, flung a huge chunk of the roof into the courtyard. One of the great golden orbs that were her eyes lowered so she could peer down at Syla, not with curiosity or amiability but with irritation.
Syla’s urge to dive under the bed returned. Instead, reminded thatshewas responsible for this, she steadied herself on the bookcase and walked toward the hole in the roof.
She opened her mouth to say she was ready, but shouts came from outside.
“Fire!” someone cried from the courtyard wall.
Cannons boomed, and, through the destroyed window, Syla glimpsed soldiers readying crossbows. With her visitor perched on the remains of the roof, Syla couldn’t see how many cannonballs and quarrels struck her scales, but the expression on the dragon’s face, inasmuch as reptilian creatureshadexpressions that humans could recognize, suggested she was peeved rather than in pain.Vexed.
The golden eye turned away from Syla.
With premonition filling her, Syla yelled out the broken window. “Look out! Get back!”
Fire roiled from the rooftop, from the dragon’s maw, andblinding light filled the courtyard. The heat reached Syla even through the wall, and she backed several steps away. Behind her, the soldier groaned from under the rubble. At least he was still alive.
The troops in the hallway must have heard the commotion inside. Someone tried to open the door, but the collapsed roof had fallen in a way that blocked it.
“Help me!” came one of the men’s muffled yells.
“Push!”
In the courtyard, the soldiers ran in the face of such a powerful opponent—and the deadly inferno that the dragon was spewing. Some fumbled and dropped their weapons as they sprinted away. Others retained their crossbows and were more controlled and thoughtful, running for cover, then turning to try to shoot again. The dragon roared and sent another inferno into the courtyard, igniting what few flammable structures remained. Surprisingly, her fire hadn’t yet engulfed any humans, and she soon turned back to Syla, her tail flicking in annoyance.
“I’m ready,” Syla called up to her.
When the fanged maw descended through the roof, smoke wafting from huge nostrils at the end of her snout, Syla decided she’d lied. Whatever she was, she wasnotready.
But another groan from the rubble pile reminded her of the lives at stake. She made herself step closer to the hole so the dragon could reach her without further destruction. Even so, the size of the creature’s head knocked more of the ceiling down as her jaws parted. Pointed fangs longer than swords reached for Syla, and she squinted and looked away, afraid the dragon had lied, that she didn’t want healing. Maybe she’d decided to immediately kill Syla for her insolence.
For the second time that night, a great maw fastened around her body, covering her from knees to shoulders. Syla had meant to be brave, but she shrieked as those dagger-sharp fangs clasped herless gently than the other dragon had. They tightened, tocrushandpierceher, she was certain.
Her feet lifted from the ground, her entire weight suspended between those jaws—those fangs. She shrieked again.
Rubble shifted, and the bedroom door shoved open a couple of inches with another cry of, “Push!”
The dragon lifted Syla toward the hole in the ceiling. The door opened farther, and a soldier squeezed in, his sword raised. Fel shoved his way in behind the man. His gaze darted immediately toward Syla, but their eyes only met briefly before the dragon lifted her out of view.
