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I secure my sword around my waist and hold out my hand. A dragon skull, large enough to fit over my head, materializes out of thin air, then a hair tie. I throw my curls into a ponytail, and set the skull on top of my head like a hat, propping it up so it doesn’t cover my face.
“Good enough?” I ask, holding my hands out.
“As good as it’ll get.” He steps closer, settling a hand on my shoulder. “Ready?”
I thrust my head forward and the skull falls over my face as I quoteThe Thing.“It’s clobberin’ time.”
Before the light can filter in and blind me, I make out the slightest smile on Asmo’s lips, then my feet land on stone and the wing bones of dragons arch up to my left and right, making up the handrails of the bridge.
“Stay quiet and let me do the talking,” he says, not a hint of emotion in his tone as he turns and we fall into step side-by-side, following the crowd across the bridge. Creatures move leisurely, spaced out enough to not jumble one another, but the crowd knits tighter as we near the castle, until we have to tuck and squeeze around them to get closer.
The dark stoned castle looms in front of us, the towers reaching into the misty clouds at their peaks. Each curved section of it is adorned with sharp pointed iron spears, while the stone walls are freckled with large windows. There’s only one way in—this bridge—or you risk your life along the jagged sea border, praying the tide doesn’t come in before you can climb the cliffs.
I can see the wards Asmo spoke of, lining the stone, carved within its surface, preventing anyone from entering by magic. The high king knew what he was doing when he made this place. It’s both imposing and impenetrable, as if giving a preview of the secret horrors that are hidden within its walls.
“You’re sure you can do this ritual to get the cuff off?”
“No,” I answer honestly, “but I will do everything I can. We have a back-up plan if we need it.”
“Assuming there isn’t some sort of fail safe that prevents it from being cut off.” My head snaps toward him, and I peer out through the hollowed portions of the skull.
“You said…”
“I know what I said…” he pauses. He swore that other creatures had chopped off their arms to remove it before. Why would he lie about it? “You also promised that you knew how to get it off. Both of us lied.” He shoulders me, guiding my body to the right of the castle. “Down here.”
Following him down a flight of stairs, it curls beneath the ground, spiraling around the foot of the castle until we reach a sealed door. Asmo spins back toward me, “Ready? They’ll be waiting on the other side.”
I nod once, and he cranks the metal handle, opening a hatch-like door, and we step inside. It’s a dark and foreboding place, the air thick with the scent of must and mildew. The walls are made of cold, damp stone, and the only light comes from the flickering torches lining the walls. Cages stretch on either side, like jail cells, made up of large metal bars with small locked doors. Enchanted by blood magic, based on the engraved symbols.
The floor’s slick with moss and lichen, and the sound of dripping water echoes through the cavernous space. As we make our way deeper into the dungeon, our footfalls break the pure silence, and chains begin to rattle. Nearing the cells with prisoners, creatures of various kinds shuffle toward the bars, reaching frail arms between them, as gnarled fingers dare to find purchase. Some don’t bother to move, lurking in the shadowed corners, having given up hope.
“You should know, Finn isn’t alone. He’ll be on the lower level. It’s where the cells capable of housing dragons are.”
“How do you know?” I ask, hand perched on my sword. Until there’s reason to pull it, it’s best to let anyone who sees us assume we’re on patrol.
“Because I put him there. One of the High King’s daughters ran from her duties and refused to marry the man who won the King’s gauntlet. She’s got a temper and, for some reason, took to him well on the ride here. So, we left him in her cell.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” We near the end of the row, coming up on a guard, posted at the entrance of the stairwell that goes down.
“Sir,” the man says, snapping up to salute Asmo.
“We need more bodies up top. They’re having trouble controlling the crowds. How many are below?” Asmo rattles off the words as if he’s done it dozens of times.
“Three, sir.”
“Go,” Asmo nods toward the way we came. “I’ll grab one of the others to take your place.”
“Yes, sir.” The man jogs down the path toward the hatch door without batting an eye.
“Looks like I underestimated how much help you’d prove to be.”
He descends the stairs, and we don’t stop until we hit the very bottom of the dungeon, passing the remaining guards as if this is their usual everyday nonsense.
“They’ll be here,” he says as we travel the final stretch of hallway. The cells grow bigger, as if to truly house dragons in their animal form.
As we near the only cage with occupants, Finn’s blonde hair comes into view. He stands, facing us, as if curious to who is coming, then something that sounds utterly visceral and predatory growls behind me. I freeze, turning around to find jagged teeth inches away from my face.
“Asmo,” I whisper, hearing him audibly swallow.
