and her head tossed back. Her flying
braids slapped his face, and she laughed.
"Look at the sun, Torin.
Look at the day. Isn't it beautiful?"
The dragon undulated beneath
them, scales rattling. The wind shrieked. Torin felt sick and his
head spun. He clung to Bailey, staring at her neck, not daring to
look anywhere else. "Can we sit down now?"
"Not until you look, Winky.
You're not looking. Don't make me hop." She leaned sideways,
revealing a view of the landscape and the dusk ahead.
Torin stared through wincing
eyes . . . and lost his breath. Through his head still spun, the
beauty pierced him. Sitting in the saddle, Bailey and the dragon's
horned head before him, had been one thing. Standing in open sky,
Torin felt like he himself were flying. The horizon spread before
him, curving and lit with orange and gold. Sunbeams pierced the
clouds. Distant forests rustled, and sheets of rain fell in the north
upon green hills. They stood in silence, watching.
Tianlong the dragon turned his
head and looked back at them. He grinned, revealing fangs. His red
beard billowed. "We land here, friends!" The dragon's voice
was deep and rumbling like boulders falling underground. "I am a
creature of darkness, and I cannot take you into the light. Hold on
tight!"
With a deep laugh, Tianlong
began to dive.
Torin winced and even Bailey
squeaked. Wobbling, they sat back down in the saddle as the dragon
descended. They were flying somewhere over the vast, lifeless plains
of the Qaelish empire, and beyond the dusk lay the rainforest of
Naya. No city, town, or village could be found for miles, according
to Torin's maps. Their journey would take them deep into the
jungle—to the ancient temple of Til Natay, to the number nine, and
to hope.
The wind whipped their hair as
Tianlong spiraled down. The dragon landed upon a hill, the dusk to
their west, the darkness of Eloria spreading to their east. When
Torin dismounted, knees wobbly, he found actual moss upon the
hill—the first greenery he'd seen in over a year.
Bailey dismounted too, wrapped
an arm around his neck, and rubbed her knuckles against his head.
"Torin old boy, you survived the flight. Now we travel on foot,
and I bet I'm a hundred times faster. And I'm not waiting for you to
catch up, snail."
He grumbled and shoved her off.
"I'm glad to see you're in a good mood. The night is burning,
Ferius is mustering new forces, and only our quest can save the
world. And you're having a laugh."
She shrugged and her grin
widened. She stretched out her arms as if she still stood upon a
flying dragon. "When the world is burning, that is the best time
to laugh."
Torin wondered. During their
stay in Asharo, capital of the Ilari empire, Bailey had seemed
sullen. Whenever he had invited her to join him and Koyee for a walk
or meal, Bailey would only grunt and claim to be busy practicing with
her sword. She had spent all her time locked in her chambers or
swinging her blade in a training yard, her eyes flashing and her lips
always frowning. As soon as they had left the city, her mood had
improved. She was the old Bailey again, the one he had grown up with.
The
open air and sunlight are good for her, Torin thought, looking at his friend. She was now busy pulling their
supplies off the dragon's back. Asharo had been a city of bricks,
steel, and flame, enough to crush any spirit.
And yet the thought still
niggled at the back of his mind. Had it truly been the city that had
darkened Bailey's mood? What if it had been Koyee? Looking back, it
seemed that whenever Koyee was with them—especially when the young
Elorian took center stage, speaking of her plans—Bailey's mood had
run foulest.
"By Idar's blistered feet!"
Bailey said, glaring at him. "Winky, are you going to help, or
are you going to keep standing there like a lump of dirt?"
Torin shook his head clear of
thoughts. He stepped forward, reached across the dragon's back, and
helped untie the straps holding down their belongings. He slung
braids slapped his face, and she laughed.
"Look at the sun, Torin.
Look at the day. Isn't it beautiful?"
The dragon undulated beneath
them, scales rattling. The wind shrieked. Torin felt sick and his
head spun. He clung to Bailey, staring at her neck, not daring to
look anywhere else. "Can we sit down now?"
"Not until you look, Winky.
You're not looking. Don't make me hop." She leaned sideways,
revealing a view of the landscape and the dusk ahead.
Torin stared through wincing
eyes . . . and lost his breath. Through his head still spun, the
beauty pierced him. Sitting in the saddle, Bailey and the dragon's
horned head before him, had been one thing. Standing in open sky,
Torin felt like he himself were flying. The horizon spread before
him, curving and lit with orange and gold. Sunbeams pierced the
clouds. Distant forests rustled, and sheets of rain fell in the north
upon green hills. They stood in silence, watching.
Tianlong the dragon turned his
head and looked back at them. He grinned, revealing fangs. His red
beard billowed. "We land here, friends!" The dragon's voice
was deep and rumbling like boulders falling underground. "I am a
creature of darkness, and I cannot take you into the light. Hold on
tight!"
With a deep laugh, Tianlong
began to dive.
Torin winced and even Bailey
squeaked. Wobbling, they sat back down in the saddle as the dragon
descended. They were flying somewhere over the vast, lifeless plains
of the Qaelish empire, and beyond the dusk lay the rainforest of
Naya. No city, town, or village could be found for miles, according
to Torin's maps. Their journey would take them deep into the
jungle—to the ancient temple of Til Natay, to the number nine, and
to hope.
The wind whipped their hair as
Tianlong spiraled down. The dragon landed upon a hill, the dusk to
their west, the darkness of Eloria spreading to their east. When
Torin dismounted, knees wobbly, he found actual moss upon the
hill—the first greenery he'd seen in over a year.
Bailey dismounted too, wrapped
an arm around his neck, and rubbed her knuckles against his head.
"Torin old boy, you survived the flight. Now we travel on foot,
and I bet I'm a hundred times faster. And I'm not waiting for you to
catch up, snail."
He grumbled and shoved her off.
"I'm glad to see you're in a good mood. The night is burning,
Ferius is mustering new forces, and only our quest can save the
world. And you're having a laugh."
She shrugged and her grin
widened. She stretched out her arms as if she still stood upon a
flying dragon. "When the world is burning, that is the best time
to laugh."
Torin wondered. During their
stay in Asharo, capital of the Ilari empire, Bailey had seemed
sullen. Whenever he had invited her to join him and Koyee for a walk
or meal, Bailey would only grunt and claim to be busy practicing with
her sword. She had spent all her time locked in her chambers or
swinging her blade in a training yard, her eyes flashing and her lips
always frowning. As soon as they had left the city, her mood had
improved. She was the old Bailey again, the one he had grown up with.
The
open air and sunlight are good for her, Torin thought, looking at his friend. She was now busy pulling their
supplies off the dragon's back. Asharo had been a city of bricks,
steel, and flame, enough to crush any spirit.
And yet the thought still
niggled at the back of his mind. Had it truly been the city that had
darkened Bailey's mood? What if it had been Koyee? Looking back, it
seemed that whenever Koyee was with them—especially when the young
Elorian took center stage, speaking of her plans—Bailey's mood had
run foulest.
"By Idar's blistered feet!"
Bailey said, glaring at him. "Winky, are you going to help, or
are you going to keep standing there like a lump of dirt?"
Torin shook his head clear of
thoughts. He stepped forward, reached across the dragon's back, and
helped untie the straps holding down their belongings. He slung
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