Page 18 of Under Restless Skies

And I make a decision.

“I’ll go alone,” I whisper as quietly as I can.

Alayel frowns, seemingly confused, and I continue, “You smell. Not bad, but your scent is stronger. Signal to the boat, and I’ll get the eggs and come down. Trust me.”

His chest moves up and down as he stares at me, calculating, thinking, but then he nods and passes me his bag with the net and the dragoncurse bottle. My heart beats wildly as I take it and wrap the strap tightly around my body.

Another thunderclap roars in the distance, like an ominous bell announcing that the time is near. The time for me to risk my life. Alone. But it’s my choice, and it’s safer. The storm will provide me with cover.

I barely have time to adjust to this new plan, to breathe and get mentally prepared, when heavy rain falls outside. The time is now, and I can’t waste another second.

“May Foros bless you,” Alayel mouths.

I nod, then climb out of the opening and jump onto the sand. My body is stiff from nerves and from hours of stillness. I can’t even see the top of the hill, with so much water falling all at once. And I’ll need to figure out where the nest is.

My bare feet search for purchase on the slick rock as I find a path up, hoping the cave with the eggs will be somewhere I can reach. The rain hitting the ocean and rocks is so loud that I can barely hear the thunder, even as lightning cracks the sky. At least there’s a trail going up, thin and slippery, but wide enough for me.

I climb halfway to the top of the hill, when I notice it. The scent. Dragons. The opening is right above me. I take a deep breath, pull the dragoncurse bottle, and tell myself it will work well and there will be no risk.

Keeping my steps as quiet as possible, I climb up the trail and approach the cave amidst thick raindrops. Lightning brightens the ocean, and I count: three seconds until the roar of thunder. My breath pauses, waiting for another strike.

When a jagged ray of light appears in the sky again, I count to two, step by the cave, and throw the bottle. It breaks at the same time as the thunderclap, and I wait, my body against the outer wall, where I can’t be seen by whatever’s inside it. Dragoncurse is indeed odorless, as I smell nothing different. I hope it works.

The dragons should get dizzy and slow in four seconds, but real sleep takes longer. I count to thirty, my heart beating twice at each count.

Heavy clouds surround me, and I glimpse a dark dragon flying in the storm, still at a distance, and yet coming to kill me. My imagination, of course. I need to calm down before fear conjures more phantoms from the storm.

I step into the cave—and come across the most majestic creatures I’ve ever seen.

Two immense dragons lie coiled in a perfect circle around the eggs, their heads resting on each other’s tail tips. One is a shimmering emerald that deepens to ocean blue along its powerful tail. The other blazes orange, each scale a polished piece of amber and copper. Something tells me that the green-blue dragon is male and the orange one female, but I can’t pinpoint what.

Asleep. The dragoncurse worked. Relief washes over me as I observe the stunning dragons.

A current of power emanates from them. If I could, I’d stand here and watch them in awe, humbled to be in their presence. But I have a mission. With careful steps, I approach the impressive creatures.

Two eggs rest in the center of their circle, brilliant as jewels: one red, one green. To reach them, I’ll have to step over one of the dragons. I choose the orange one’s tail, though it brings me within arm’s reach of the green dragon’s jaw. A jaw that could swallow me whole. I swing one leg over, then the other, my body rigid with terror and wonder.

Each egg weighs as much as a watermelon, and I lower them into the net one at a time.

This is wrong.

My hands tremble, and I pause, then I remember all the nights I lay awake under the low roof of the restaurant, my brother’s small frame beside me in the dark.

These dragons wouldn’t hesitate to kill me or anyone in Dracolius. We’ll treat these hatchlings right and raise them with love.

Heavy rain still pours outside the cave as I hoist the heavy net onto my shoulder and step carefully over the sleeping dragon’s tail. My heart thuds against my ribs—part in anxiety, part in disbelief. I got the eggs.

Well, we still have to get to the boat and return to our kingdom, and it’s a long way, even if we sail straight. Plenty of time for things to go wrong. Maybe I should smother those kinds of thoughts.

Two steps outside the cave, and a vision twists my gut. This can’t be happening.

My heart stutters to a halt and I stand still, paralyzed with fear.

A rider blocks the narrow path, an impossible vision against the gray sky. In his grip, a majestic silver staff, its shaft carved into intricate, sweeping wings. An elaborate circlet rests upon his brow, and a silver robe clings to his powerful frame, soaked through by the rain. His hair, long and dark as a starless sky, is wet and plastered to his neck and chest.

The rider does not look human. He looks like a legend come to life, a prince of some lost and terrible realm, and the sheer majesty of him pins me in place more surely than any weapon.

My hands trembling, I carefully place the net with the eggs on the ground and step back, my pulse quickening, my legs unsteady.