bask in it. In his dragon form, it was too much. It made my head ache. Hopefully, he would fly quickly.
“No saddle?” I’d envisioned this being like riding bareback on a horse, but his back was too broad for that. If I had a picnic blanket, I could have laid out a basket, champagne glasses, and a charcuterie tray.
A what? his voice thundered in my head.
Such indignation meant he knew the word… He just didn’t find the word appropriate.
“Is it less offensive if we call it a harness?”
The next sound echoing in my mind was either a grunt of disgust or a dragon hawking a loogie.
“A seatbelt? Except that there’s not exactly a seat.” I patted the smooth scales, positive I would pitch off as soon as he jumped into the air. Why had I agreed to this?
Why did I suggest this? he asked.
“I have no idea. Sindari has never offered to let me ride him.”
The Del’noth tigers are not unwise.
“I’ll let him know you praised him so profusely.”
My magic will keep you in place.
“What if you’re distracted?” I envisioned the silver dragon zipping out of the mountains and attacking us.
A second before I could change my mind, slide off his back, and tell him to visit Greemaw on his own, Zav sprang into the air. I flattened myself against him, arms spread wide, positive I’d made a huge mistake.
But as he flapped his large powerful wings, quickly gaining altitude, the air barely stirred around me. Right away, he took off to the south, flying over the buildings of Capitol Hill. I expected the breeze to tug at my hair and clothing, but it either streamed past, his head blocking it, or some bubble of power kept it from disturbing me. He did seem to radiate even more power as he flew, its presence surrounding me and filling my senses. I felt overwhelmed, like the time I’d gone to a laser music show as a teen, colored lights flashing all over the domed ceiling while Dark Side of the Moon boomed from the speakers and the floor vibrated underneath me.
I closed my eyes. This was going to be a long flight.
14
It wasn’t as long a trip as I’d expected. After an hour, we soared over Bend and toward the forest near Paulina Lake that held Greemaw’s hidden valley sanctuary.
I’d taken a few peeks down as we flew southward following the mountains, but Zav’s wings blocked the view, and I hadn’t felt adventurous enough to crawl up to his long sinewy neck for a better look. Heights didn’t usually bother me, but the lack of a seatbelt kept me from risking rocking the dragon boat. Also, I’d been busy watching the sky behind us, worried about what would happen if the other dragon showed up and we had to fight.
A part of me had been tempted to summon Sindari, if only so he could see the world from up here, but I’d envisioned my leather thong of charms somehow slipping off my head if I fiddled with them, and I hadn’t dared. I’d flown countless hours in numerous models of planes and helicopters when I’d been undergoing my army training, and somehow, this was nothing like any of it. Maybe because I had no control and didn’t trust the being who did.
“Do you really fly three hundred miles an hour?” I asked, guessing the distance from Seattle to Bend in my head. Admittedly, if he’d taken me as the crow flies—as the dragon flies—it would have been shorter.
I am not familiar with your units of measure, Zav responded telepathically as he pulled his wings in, his head dipping toward the ponderosa pine forest below.
I could see the lake over his head and did my best to grip his scales, but it wasn’t as if there were gaps between them. They were smooth and tight, leaving nothing to hold.
For my sanity, I closed my eyes as he arrowed down, only spreading his wings at the point where collision seemed a certainty. We slowed until he landed in an easy crouch. Not outside of Greemaw’s valley, as I’d imagined, but right in it, on the main road that wound through what seemed as much refugee camp as village. There were permanent structures, yes, but most of the people—everyone from orcs to kobolds to dwarves and goblins to shifters in wolf form—seemed temporary. Transient.
The orcs eyed me hostilely, several resting their hands on the hilts of bladed weapons or maces. Could they have already