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“Then let's go,” Argen said, and Autumn nodded.
I had no say.
We just followed blindly behind adragon. It lumbered to the back of the chamber, and Argen and I followed closely through a tunnel with Autumn at its side. Its metal tail clanged against the narrow tunnels, its iron claws clacking against the stone.
Soon we came to the opening of a vast, cavernous room.
This… This was where the expressiondragon hordecame from. There were piles and piles of dwarven weapons, goblets, gold coins, and priceless trinkets. Things of nations and civilizations long forgotten and scattered to dust. Parts of pirate ships and crowns worn by kings long turned to bone.
Argen and Autumn stepped inside behind the lumbering giant dragon, but a harrowing tug in my middle kept me rooted.
I could not enter.
Argen noticed and barked a command. Autumn looked back at us, and her eyes widened. She left the dragon to rush to the entrance and did as she had at the door of the catacombs. She tried to yank me over the threshold. I hit a solid wall as if one had materialized before me, and I felt the ward against my human blood. Autumn was the chosen true heart, and it had given her access, even to this room, but this time it would not budge for me.
Autumn looked stricken, but I squeezed her hand with a smile. “You can do this, Autumn. I believe in you.” Emotion rose in me, and warmth bloomed in my chest. “You were made for this, love.”
Her eyes widened at the affectionate name that gave away far too much—that I should have kept to myself. Autumn gave me a slow nod as she gripped both of my hands in hers. I looked down at our twined fingers, hers fair against my tanned ones. She squeezed my hands, and her touch lingered far longer than was appropriate for a time like this, and her eyes bored into mine. The gold was the shade of Argen’s battle-ax, which I had never noticed before.
I extracted one of my hands and brought it to her face. Cupping her jaw, I caressed her cheek with my thumb.
“You’re incredible, Autumn. Breathtaking and brave. If anyone can break the curse on an iron dragon, it’s you.”
She yanked her bottom lip between her teeth. It showed her nerves, but I ran my thumb across her worried lip and smiled. It was ridiculously intimate in a time like this, absurd, but I still had the overwhelming urge to kiss her, and I was sick of denying it.
Slowly, I leaned in—
The dragon let out an exasperated huff, and Autumn giggled.
“Hold that thought,” were her breathless words as she turned away from me.
I swallowed down my panic and watched her return to the dragon.
Dragon Horde
A dragon horde.
A weaponsmith from Geva was in a real dragon horde. Well, not arealdragon, but a dwarven-created dragon. Something of myth and legend, based on a creature that had not been in Catalan for a long time.
I still didn't quite understand the curse that kept it here, but I knew it was vile. Greed was a powerful thing. It could twist and misshape all other emotions. Greed and envy encased this curse; it slithered across my skin.
My eyes moved from the stunning ebony dragon to the pile of shiny objects, then my eyes fluttered up the largest pile, the base of which was a gilded throne, to the very top, and my breath caught in my throat. I ceased to breathe, my hand going to my throat.
There at the top was a might golden sword. Its hilt twined with a shape I saw in my mind even though my eyes could not focus on it from such a distance. It was a dragon twining around the hilt. I had a feeling this sword was in connection to more than just the wicked queen.
Cursebreaker, I heard Argen whisper in awe, and I had to agree.
Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I took a tentative step closer. The dragon groaned, but in my mind, he said,“See if ye can grab that sword, Cursebreaker.”
My eyes snapped to the dragon. “Me? I'm no—"
“Ye are. Been stuck ‘ere fer centuries. Now grab the sword an’ release me.”
I balked. This was happening. Somewhere in my mind, I had thought this was all some fairytale voyage, and when it came to an end, a mighty hero would rise and take the limelight.
Someone that was not me.
“Release me, one of me blood. It must be ye.”
