Something had disturbed them. Kyrie flew toward that mountaintop, Agnus Dei by him. He was tired, but he had never flown faster. Could it be? Had they found the true dragons of old, the lords of Salvandos?
They flew around the mountaintop, a tower of stone and snow. There! He saw a green, scaly tail disappear around a cliff. He narrowed his eyes and followed, Agnus Dei at his side.
A flash of brilliant green. The dragon ahead soared into the clouds.
"Wow," Kyrie said. He could think of nothing more to say. He glimpsed the dragon for only a second, but it was beautiful, the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. This was definitely no Vir Requis. The creature was half as slim and twice as long. It had no wings, but moved like a snake in the sky, coiling and uncoiling. Emerald scales covered its body, and its horns and claws glowed. It sported a flowing mustache and beard, snowy white and flapping in the wind.
In a flash, it was gone into the clouds, leaving a wake of glittering blue.
"Come on, Kyrie!" Agnus Dei shouted, and Kyrie realized he was hovering in place. He blinked, shook his head, and flew hard. He broke through the clouds and saw the salvana in the distance, already a league away, undulating as it flew. It dived under the clouds again, disappearing from view, like a snake diving under water.
"Come back here," Kyrie cried, but doubted the salvana could hear him. It was such a strange creature, Kyrie wondered if he'd just gone mad with weariness. Flying green serpents with golden horns and white beards? What was next, pink elephants with swan wings?
Kyrie and Agnus Dei kept racing, chasing the coiling green dragon. It was fast—faster than them, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Kyrie knew that on a good day, well rested and well fed, he could catch up, but he was too tired now. He could barely keep his wings flapping, but he pushed himself as far as he could go.
After an hour of flight, the salvana—now just a speck on the horizon—dived under the clouds again.
Kyrie and Agnus Dei, both so weary they could barely fly, followed. They too dived under the clouds... and their breath died.
Tears filled Kyrie's eyes.
"It's real," Agnus Dei whispered, eyes moist.
A mountain of gold rose before them. Kyrie had seen gold before—Dies Irae certainly wore enough of it—but here was an entire mountain of the stuff, a league high and blinding in the sun. Rings of mist surrounded the golden mountain. Snow capped its peaks. It dwarfed the smaller, jagged mountains that surrounded it. Most beautiful of all, however, was not the gold and mist and sunbeams, but the thousands of salvanae who flew here. Some were blue and silver, others green and gold, and some were white. Their eyes were like crystal balls, large and spinning. They bugled songs like trumpets, and flowed in and out of round caves in the mountainsides.
"Har Zahav," Kyrie whispered in awe. "The Golden Mountain of Salvandos." He looked at Agnus Dei and saw that she was weeping.
Three salvanae flew toward them. Two had green scales, golden horns, and long fangs. The third was golden and seemed elderly; his beard was white and flowing, his eyes pale blue with long white lashes. He flew first, leading the others, like a stream of gold.
The salvanae flew up to hover before them. Their eyes glittered, large as watermelons. They blinked, lashes sweeping, and said nothing.
"Hello," Kyrie said, then paused and cleared his throat. What did one say when meeting legendary creatures? He doubted they would understand Osanna's High Speech, but would they speak Requiem's older Dragontongue? Kyrie decided to speak the latter. "My name is Kyrie Eleison of Requiem," he said in that ancient, rolling language. "This is my companion, Agnus Dei, daughter of Benedictus and Lacrimosa. We flee danger and suffering. We come seeking your aid."
The old dragon listened, the wind in his beard. Sparks like lightning rose between his teeth. He looked at Kyrie and Agnus Dei with crystal ball eyes. He spoke then with an old, crinkly voice, heavily accented but definitely speaking Dragontongue. "Greeting, travelers and strange things. I am Nehushtan, High Priest of Draco's stars. May they bless you. I welcome you to Har Zahav. You are fellow things of flight and fang. The light of Draco shines upon you, though it glimmers oddly. You may spend the darkness, and pray to the Draco constellation, and return