Dragons Awakening
CHAPTER SEVEN: Meet the Dragon

Zi dropped her belongings on a bench beside the gaping barn doors. She snatched a large bridle from a hook on the tack room wall. Quick strides took her to the corner stall, where even the top half of the door was closed.

“Ezerhaydn,” she called out, unlatching the bolt and swinging the upper door of the stall wide open.

Deep black shadows, impenetrable to her blinking eyes, shrouded the interior of the stall. No movement, only the musky scent of horse and sweat.

“Dragon?”

“Dragon now, is it?” Zi cringed at the echo in her skull, slamming her palms over her ears. Not that it helped.

Darkness shifted, and the gallant horse emerged.

“A vision,” Zi said. “I need answers.” And she would have them. No one forced her to endure scenes of death anymore. Not even a dragon.

“Of course,” Ezer said, quieter this time. He turned his head, fixing an eye on the bridle dangling from her hand. “An unnecessary device,” he said.

“It would look suspicious if someone saw me riding without one.”

Riding? On my back? It was a growl, vibrating inside her skull and making her flinch. That sounded like a dragon’s voice. Not especially pleasant, but not nearly as scorching as the heat in her vision.

“Right,” she muttered. “Would His Highness permit me to put this bridle on his head and ride on his back?” Did he see her nose twitching in the dim light?

“An improvement,” the dragon said. “No need to address me as Highness. I am merely a Chieftain.”

“Is that a yes?”

The black head bobbed several times. Zi slipped her fingers between the horse’s lips and set the bit against his teeth, an operation she’d performed dozens of times. Never with a dragon, of course. The flat-topped beige chompers were nothing like the knives lining that red dragon’s jaw. She shuddered, grateful to focus on drawing the bridle over Ezerhaydn’s ears and buckling the chin strap.

He lowered his head so she could drape the reins over it and drop them on his back. She could barely see the top of that back. Yet she was going to mount up? Ride out with nothing more than leather straps and a bit of metal to give the illusion of control? Could she be any more desperate? Or stupid?

Several mounting stools cluttered the barn and arena. Zi led the horse toward the front doors, where one such stool sat. Dirt from the packed floor puffed from the weight of the heavy hooves behind her, swirling in a strange dance with the light in the air. Ezerhaydn stopped with her beside the stool, almost as if he anticipated her actions. If he could put thoughts in her mind, was it such a stretch to imagine him reading them?

Zi flipped her heavy braid over her shoulder and turned the stool so the two steps faced the horse’s back. Even from the top step, she would need to jump. Cocoons of anxiety burst open in her stomach. The transformed butterflies emerged, fluttering erratically against her innards, trying to escape.

Her left hand clutched the rein and a lock of black mane resting on the withers. She skipped up the last step, planting her left boot and springing upward. Bareback riding wasn’t her favorite. Throwing herself onto a giant horse without any tack to secure her? Even less appealing.

Her right thigh settled across the broad back, her knee well above the horse’s shoulder. “Not sure how I’m supposed to grip you. My legs don’t reach halfway down your barrel.”

“My gait is smooth. Dig in with knees and heel, if you must. A dragon’s hide is not tender.”

Zi scooted her rear end backward until it rested in the lowest curve of his spine. Her knees squeezed high and her ankles low.

“To the plateau,” Ezer said.

The reins slid through her fingers. She squeezed them between her thumb and index finger while making a clicking sound with her tongue. A tap of her heels encouraged the mountain of flesh forward and earned her an evil glare. Long-legged strides carried her out the gate and toward the village road. A wide trail branched off, veering toward the plateau. Zi pressed her knees more firmly into Ezer’s sides as the slope increased, leaning her upper body away from the decline. Even then, his rocking strides didn’t jar her.

Low bushes lined the dirt pathway. Chattering insects and animals hushed at their approach, making the constant wind’s whistle audible. As they descended, the foliage thinned and hardy tundra grass took its place. A rock broke at the edge of the trail and loosed a shower of dirt, startling a quail from its hiding place.

“Are you prepared to share your vision, seer?”

Zi flinched at the sudden intrusion into her mind. And the voice was intrusive. Her mind strayed toward the fearful vision, and chills raked her back.

“A volcano erupted. The river of lava swallowed everything.”

A gulp of the thin mountain air cleared the lingering scent of brimstone and burning flesh from her nostrils. All five senses could be activated during a vision, but they rarely were. This one could have benefited from less sensory output.

“A huge plume of smoke and ash darkened the sky. It reminded me of video footage I’ve seen of atomic clouds.”

She waved her hands as she recounted the vision. The black sides beneath her heaved. A growl, nothing like a horse’s grunt, rumbled through her thighs. Warmth burst from the horse’s back. Did someone switch on a heated seat?

“Hang on, seer.”

At his word, she snatched the reins off his neck and pressed her legs into his sides. The bottom of the trail sloped more gently, but it still wasn’t meant for speed.

Ezerhaydn knew nothing of safety precautions and moved easily into a flowing lope. The speed threw Zi backward, until she leaned into his neck. A sharp twist from the horse compelled her to reach higher, grab another handful of mane. Coarse black hair curled over her hand and across her cheek.

The ground flattened, and Zi pushed herself upright. Wind whipped at her face. She squinted. As the plateau opened up before them, the canter morphed into a full-out gallop . Even the sting of the cold air couldn’t contain the exhilaration bursting through her chest, chasing away the trepidation.

At a stacked formation of boulders, Ezer slowed to a trot. From behind the stack, Zi could barely make out the top of the clock tower at the academy.

“It is time,” the dragon said. “I feel it.”

His skin burned beneath her. Zi slid to the ground.

“Remove the bridle.”

The black head lowered until the ears were even with her shoulders. She unbuckled the throat and chin straps and lifted the leather over his ears. When the bit came free of his mouth, the full weight of the bridle pushed her hands toward the rock-strewn ground.

Ezerhaydn backed away, tossing his head and making a low, primitive sound in his throat. Continuing backward, the horse dropped his head. Low humming came from the massive black chest, a musical sound. The air around the huge animal wavered. The vibrating melody intensified, and heat emanated from the air rippling in front of the horse.

Zi stumbled backward. A boulder piercing her backside stopped her. Intense heat raked her cheeks. Like the vision. She buried her face against her chest and huddled close to the rocks. She flinched when fiery air scorched her backside.

Stillness sucked the air like a vacuum. The heat waned. A sign it was safe to turn around without being burned alive? Zi hoped so, but she choked on a gasp when she did.

Only feet away, in place of the stately horse, only feet away, stood a black-scaled reptile. Its head stretched twenty feet above Zi, blotting out the blue of the sky. Two horns curved where the ears should have been, almost like antennae on an insect. It’s broad snout ended with a mouthful of hook-shaped teeth.

ZI’s mouth fell open, drying out in seconds. Were her eyes bulging out of her face? For sure they couldn’t get any wider.

Smooth onyx scales covered the armored chest. Spikes rose out of the back, increasing in size to the middle of the curving spine then tapering off toward the tail. Behind him, instead of flowing, curly hair, a thick tail with three spikes at the end, resembling a mace, twitched in the dirt. His legs were wider than trees. Zi shuddered at the sight of the clawed feet, a cross between an elephant and an enormous eagle.

Zi’s throat closed. Her head spun. This couldn’t be happening. Dragons belonged to mythology and fable. The enormous head lowered toward her. Warm air, tinged with the scent of sulfur, vaporized her doubts. The amber eyes she first envisioned blinked, focusing on hers. A strange fascination compelled her to step toward the magnificent terror, hand outstretched.

“Incredible.” A strangled whisper squeezed from her throat.

Smoke curled from nostrils in the long snout. Fading sunlight reflected off his face like a polished stone. The menacing chompers made Zi’s feet itch to flee. Still, her curiosity drove her closer. Her hand rested against the scaly nose. Gone was the velvety muzzle. The shale-like hide warmed her fingertips.

“So much heat,” she said.

“I am hot-blooded, even though I don’t breath fire.”

Zi furrowed her eyebrows. “No fire. What kind of dragon doesn’t breathe fire?”

“I am of Metallica Clan. Our breath is poisonous gas and smoke.”

“But that red one-” Zi couldn’t bear to complete the thought. Images of flaming fields, skies, and bodies squelched her voice. Bile choked her.

“Qwystanak is the Chieftain of Clan Inferno. A clan of fire-breathers.”

“I never want to see him again.”

The dragon’s head lowered until his left eye stared directly into hers. His head was too wide for him to meet her gaze straight-on at such close range. Acrid smoke burned her eyes and wrinkled her nose. She leaned away, shuffling back a half-step.

“You should hope your world never sees him, seer. I will meet him when he emerges from his prison.”

Zi backed furhter away from the glowering dragon. “You have your original form. Now you can go save the world.” And I can forget I ever met a dragon.

Before she could take a step, the mace-like end of the dragon’s tail smacked the ground in front of her, rocking her backward. The tail slithered along the dirt like a lasso tightening around her neck, until her feet stood beside the dragon’s deadly claws.

“Find the whisperer. Help me convince him to wake my sleeping brother.”

A familiar sensation roiled through Zi’s stomach and into her chest. It tightened like a net around her heart. A dragon would use her powers against her will? She gritted her teeth against the panic created by her runaway pulse.

“I can’t help you replace this whisperer.”

“A vision will be forthcoming now that you know his title. Pay attention to every detail of his location.”

Zi longed to shake her head, deny the ominous predictions uttered by the horrible gruff voice inside her head. But thanks to this dragon’s suggestion, her thoughts would center on this person. Her cursed gift would send a vision of his future. It had happened years ago when she witnessed her uncle’s death. Her father would still be making it happen if she hadn’t learned to stop hearing his requests.

“He could be anywhere.”

“Let’s pray he is on this continent. Otherwise doom may arrive before our team is assembled.”

Our team? Zi felt breathless, as if she had run to the top of the mountain. She was powerless against the dragon in her vision. And against the one standing before her, it seemed. She longed to send him away. Without her.

Ezerhaydn snorted, and a puff of smoke rolled into her eyes. Zi squinted. Drowsiness washed over her body. Her arms and legs weighed more than the world.

“Your visions will save the world, seer. It is why Omne granted you the gift of prophecy.”

“I don’t want to save the world,” Zi slumped against the dragon’s rock-hard side. I never asked for these visions.

So tired. How would she ever escape this dragon and his demands?