with Edward,” Thigocia said. “I will take both of you home.”
Barlow gave her a slight bow, apparently too sore to bend lower. “I appreciate your offer, dragoness, but after the ride I’ve been on, I would rather walk.”
Edward pulled Barlow’s sword from his scabbard and handed it to him. “What about Goliath? He’s sure to be looking for you.”
“I will take the long way through the forest,” Barlow said, sliding his sword into its scabbard. “Fortunately, I wore my thick undergarments, so I should not be too uncomfortable.”
Edward clapped Barlow on the shoulder. “Thank you for protecting me. I am forever in your debt.”
“Think nothing of it.” Barlow clenched wrists with Edward. “I’ll look forward to seeing you and the dragons on the front lines.”
As Barlow walked away, Thigocia dipped her head low. “First lesson, a neck mount. It’s the safest and easiest. You will learn other methods later.”
Edward stepped up close to the dragoness’s neck. “Why would I need to mount any other way?”
“Well, it sounds as though Barlow very nearly succeeded with the most difficult maneuver of all, and with Goliath, no less. If I had trained him to perform a tail mount in midflight, he might not be walking home in his underwear.”
Chapter 2
THE LADY OF THE LAKE
Sapphira sat at the side of the pool, gazing at the Ovulum. Even though it had been silent for centuries, she kept bringing it back to the healing waters every few days . . . hoping . . . hoping to feel love once again.
Holding it close to her lips, she whispered, “Elohim?” but, as usual, there was no answer. She dropped her hands to her lap and sighed. She didn’t dream it. She really was healed. Whoever was inside really did sing that heavenly song that told her of Elohim’s love.
She gazed at her reflection in the pool. The same fourteen-year-old girl stared back at her the same smooth, pale skin and stark white hair. Morgan had warned her that the tower’s dimensional rift could have altered their plane of existence, but she didn’t expect not to age at all.
Still, the spawns kept growing, though very slowly, and she would have to rise early to prepare the newest candidate for mobility training. She slid the Ovulum back into her pocket and rose to her feet, grabbing her lantern on her way up. As she strolled through the corridor, she waved her hand over the flaming wick. “Come on,” she said. “You can get brighter than that.” The lantern responded with a flash and burned steadily, brightening the entire tunnel as she marched on.
Watching her own shadow on the tunnel wall, she pictured the humanoid plants attempting to walk on their spindly green legs, tired and wobbly as they exercised to the beat of a slave-driving drummer. But when she tried to imagine a face on the shadowy mirage, she could only see Yereq’s, sad and thin as he toiled in silence.
As she slid down into her dugout, a tear formed in each eye. Yereq still came to mind every day, especially the hate-filled look in his eyes when Morgan finally sent him to the mobility room for good. What was he doing now? Could he be a fully formed giant? He had enough time to grow that much. But he had never shown up as a slave driver in the magnetite trenches or taken a shift as the lift operator. What might his job be?
Sapphira set the lantern on the floor, illuminating the two stone bunks. Paili sat in hers, her tiny feet brushing the floor as they swung back and forth. She formed her words slowly and carefully. “The lantern is very bright.”
Sapphira waved her hand over the flame. “Sorry.” The lantern slowly dimmed.
“If Morgan catches you doing that . . . you will be . . .” Paili rolled her eyes upward, apparently in search of a word.
“In big trouble?” Sapphira offered.
Paili nodded.
Sapphira wiggled her fingers at the lantern, and the flame waved its pointy head back at her. “I think she’s already suspicious about my power, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not afraid of her anymore.”
“You should be afraid. If she . . . catches you trying to break into . . .” Paili glanced upward again, but this time, she just shook her head and sighed. “Too many words.”
“Take your time.” Sapphira stroked Paili’s hair. She was still an eight-year-old in body, and perhaps even younger in mind, even after over a thousand years of