The Dragon Who Loved Me

“No, it wasn’t. It was painful.”

“Don’t be weak, Vigholf.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and laughing, Rhona stumbled away from him. “Don’t you dare!”

“I was hoping you could show me how to not be weak.”

“You unleash your lightning, and I’m unleashing my flame!”

Vigholf moved toward her, arms out and reaching for her. “I think I’m wil ing to risk it.”

“Wait, wait.” She held up her hand to stop him. “Where’re the horses?”

Vigholf took a quick look around. “They were right here a few minutes ago.”

“Piss and fire. They made a run for it.”

“I doubt they went back outside.” Vigholf sniffed the air. “That way,” he said, pointing at a passage and walking toward it.

“Wait, Vigholf, I’m not sure we should . . .”

But Vigholf was already moving, going deeper into the cave. Rhona was right behind him, but she seemed a little nervous. He had no idea why.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Rhona the Fearless nervous.

They located the horses about a half mile in. The animals seemed uncomfortable with the thunder exploding around the cave wal s, which probably explained why they ended up going farther in rather than running off. Rhona walked up to the pair and, with one hand for each, petted them on their necks.

“It’s al right. The storm wil pass. Sssssh.”

Gods, the female real y did have a way with horses. Something he found completely fascinating. Especial y since he did get the feeling that she had, on more than one occasion, eaten horseflesh. But the animals stil seemed to like her.

Then again, Vigholf liked her too.

“They’l be fine,” she said to him while smiling at the horses. “This bad storm just spooked them a—” The horses suddenly reared, and Vigholf grabbed Rhona around the waist, yanking her out of the way. Good thing too because the horses bolted, running back the way they’d come.

“What the hel s was that?” he asked her.

“I don’t know.” Rhona pul ed away from him. “Something scared them and it wasn’t the storm.” She circled around him. “I knew we shouldn’t have come in here. I knew . . .”

She was behind him when her words faded out and Vigholf turned around to find her staring off into another dark passageway. “Rhona?”

“Shit!” Rhona screamed before she shoved him toward the exit. “Run!”

She took off, heading the same direction the horses went, but it slithered out of the darkness, moving faster than anything Vigholf had ever seen, and cut her off.

Rhona fel back, fal ing on her ass. And it reared up on its tail, leather wings spreading out from its scaled body to block the exit. It hissed, the sound bouncing off the wal s.

Its head reared back and Vigholf rushed forward, grabbing Rhona by the neck of her chain-mail shirt and yanking her up. They ran seconds before a stream of green venom hit the ground where Rhona had been, sizzling as it burned into the rock.

Deciding he had to protect the female, Vigholf turned, lightning sparking off him as he began to shift.

“No!” Rhona grabbed his hand and yanked him after her. “Don’t shift.”

“Why the hel s not?”

“You’l never fit!” At first he didn’t know what she was talking about, but as they charged into narrow passageway after narrow passageway, the thing easily slithering behind them, he knew Rhona was right. These caverns and passageways had not been carved out for dragons to stand and fight in, but for them to die, along with anything else unlucky enough to find its way in here.

If Rhona had the time, she’d stop and kick herself. Because she should have been paying attention. If she had, she would have caught that distinct scent or seen the slither marks on the cave’s dirt floor or simply known that they weren’t alone. That like most of these low caves in the west, this wasn’t empty. It had a low-cave wyvern. A gods-damn wyvern! And the ones this far west were the worst of the lot.

Her father said the wyverns resented dragons because dragons could speak, could shift to human, and had arms and legs. Then again, dragons were higher beings. They weren’t snakes that had lived so long their bodies had lengthened enough to wrap themselves around castles several times and had sprouted wings.

But the venom . . . the venom was the worst part of it. No matter the breed of dragon, there were none who could stop the wyvern venom from melting the scales off their bodies. A most unpleasant experience. First it destroyed a dragon’s scales; then the wyvern wrapped itself around the now-defenseless dragon prey and squeezed until the life had been crushed from its bones.

An experience that Rhona had no intention of going through. Not if she could help it.

“We’l have to fight him,” she told Vigholf as they both suddenly took a tunnel to the right.

“As human?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

They took the next turn into another cavern and split up, Vigholf immediately dashing to the other side of the opening, his back against the cave wal . And Rhona went to the left, crouching behind a boulder.

She grabbed the spear her father gave her and held it in her hand. The tip appeared and it grew to be about three feet, but that was it, waiting until she cal ed on more.

She heard the wyvern slither into the cavern, but she could tel it instantly stopped before going farther in.