This might be my only shot.
Internally, I curse, unable to find anything sturdier looking than a thin ridge of stone without begging for Bulder’s help. Something that’ll draw too much attention. My cloak—the exact tone as the rugged terrain—may smudge my shape, the smog extra protection against the razor-sharp eyesight of a Sabersythe, but their lethal sense of smell is unmatched. Should they notice the vibrations of my presence and begin sniffing in my direction, I’m done.
I grit my teeth and set my toes against the ridge, tense my arm, and begin to shift my weight—
The rock crumbles.
My pulse pitches as I plunge. Immediately slash my pickax into the cliff, biting deep into a preexisting crevice that slows my descent, then stops it altogether. The shriek of metal against stone is still grinding through the smog while I hang from my clenched fist like bait dangling from a hook.
Heart in my throat, I ply myself with deep breaths, ignoring the tearing strain in my arm as I force myself to calm. To wait—listening for thethumpof beating wings … a roar … any sign that I’ve been noticed.
Nothing.
Only the distant rumble, sizzle, and hiss of an angry nesting ground.
I search around until I spot a sturdy-looking cleft to wedge my foot into, easing the weight from my arm—slowly. At one … with … the rock as I guide my foot into the jagged gap.
That was too close.
After a few more deep, steadying breaths, I regather my poise and continue my sluggish ascent into the blinding swirl of red and gray, every muscle trembling by the time I pull up into the burrow’s gaping mouth.
I slink to the side and press against the wall—gouged from where Ahra’s scratched her face and body against it, broadening the hole. One of very few wild Sabersythe dams renowned for maintaining a single den rather than switching to accommodate her growth.
Some believe she’s been waiting for something. I hope that’s true; that I’m somehow part of that plan.
Crouching, I notch my pickax at my belt and use the loose end of my shroud to dab the sweat from my brow, working to regain my breath while I examine the burrow’s massive gape.
A wave of anxious nausea clenches my gut.
I’ve never seen Ahra myself, but this burrow is almost equal in size to the ones Rygun favors.
She’s bigger than I was expecting …
Somewhere in the distance, a volcano booms, causing a seismic shift in the air that blasts against my skin.
I pull my cloak farther forward, squinting as I cast my gaze into the cave’s dark throat. Despite hearing Ahra leave earlier, I listen for any rumbling sounds. For any sign she’s bundled at the end, nesting on her eggs—
The mountain trembles. Bits of stone loosen from above and crash to the ground, shattering.
Fuck.
I open to Bulder and murmur a quiet, calming lullaby:
“Kurth do arn, Bulder. Kurth do arth atin nahl goril arn.”
Though the burrow stops shaking, I can’t guarantee my own safety the moment I step down that tunnel. Couldn’t the moment I stepped foot in Gondragh. Bulder’s too focused on his ongoing war with Ignos—battling punch for punch, neither winning nor losing—and barely has time to turn his ear.
If the burrow collapses, that’s it. I’m dead.
But I’m not turning back.
Once I’m certain the mountain’s not about to catch an erupting cough from the nearby peak, I fist my silver dragonscale blade and step into the darkness, moving by sense alone. Tune so deep into Bulder’s song that my mind sketches out the shape of the curving tunnel and the bits of fallen stone I step over, avoiding a stubbed toe or a rupture of sound that might toll the end of me.Somany fallen bits scuffed by Ahra’s most recent retreat. A gully in the mess that suggests she was dragging her tail as she exited.
I utilize the clearance, making for an easier journey.
The dark gives way to a warm glow bleeding through from ahead, causing the many silver scales scattered across the ground to glint like stars in the southern sky.
The tunnel yawns, inviting me into a giant domed cavity lit by a slow glug of magma seeping down a cleft in the side. But that’s not what holds my focus. Nor is it the tens of thousands of scales littering the floor like a treasure trove.
