Dragon's Isolation - Miranda Martin Page 0,43

my dominance, all to protect her.

“Yes,” I nod. “Sorry.”

It’s a small word, too small to convey the concept, but I have to trust in her. In our connection, in the ties that bind us, that she will understand.

“No,” she shakes her head. “No. You don’t be sorry. You fight. You fight! We’re not done.”

“When I lose it,” I say. “I won’t remember, but I’ll never forget you. You are my treasure. Always. Forever.”

“Forever,” she echoes, a tear streaking down her cheek. “Isn’t over yet, damn it.”

She wipes the tear away with her sleeve. Neither of us move, frozen into a moment of time. My chest swells until it hurts. My love for her is too much for my body to hold in. It has to burst out, go somewhere.

The wind picks up, blowing sand into our faces and breaking the moment. Amara turns away to protect her eyes while I close the outer lid of mine to shield them. It’s then I see a glint a few strides away.

“There,” I say pointing.

I want to say more but the words I want to say are swept away by the thickening fog. Amara waits for the breeze to die down then turns and follows my pointing arm.

“Good!” she exclaims. “Let’s put on our protective gear.”

I don’t understand what she means. She slides the pack off her back and opens it up. I watch, feeling like I should know what she’s doing and what she’s talking about, but there’s nothing but a blank and a vague sense of loss.

She pulls out two masks and holds one out towards me. I know it’s called a mask, but what to do with it is gone. I take it and turn it over in my hands, studying it. I know this. It’s black, but there is this clear area here. I’m supposed to…

Amara slides the one in her hand over her head, and that makes it clear. I’m supposed to wear it! I slide it on to my head, mimicking her. It doesn’t sit well. I can’t get it fully onto my face, my horns are in the way. I tug at it, frustration growing, until I’m jerking it around.

“Here, let me help,” Amara says.

She reaches up and does something I can’t see. A few moments later and the mask is sitting on my face and I can see again. She takes my hand and together we walk towards our goal. As we approach, it’s easy to see why we were having a hard time finding it. There are no landmarks. It’s a hole in the sand, one that is partly filled back in, which makes it even more difficult.

We stand over it, our breaths loud through the weird mask we’re wearing and stare. At the bottom of the hole that’s been dug in the sand I can see metal. The metal is marred by deep gouges and scratches but there is nothing beyond that to indicate its purpose or use.

“Now?” I ask.

The bijass swells and recedes making it hard to think. I don’t know what we should be doing. Do I attack it? Tear this thing down?

Amara drops down into the hole and puts her face close to it. She studies it this way for some time, then looks up and reaches a hand to me. I take it and pull her out of the hole.

“It’s a seam,” she says. “Ladon cracked it open, and that let out air, is my guess. The virus, the poison, whatever it is that’s making you sick was in that air. He breathed it in, and then he carried it back to the City.”

I nod, but her words don’t make sense. There are a lot of them, but there is no picture in my head to go with them. They don’t add up to… anything. A frown forms on my face as I try to make the words make sense. Every time I’m about to get it, the fog surges forward and washes away the thought.

I growl as frustration builds inside me heading towards anger, and with anger the fog covering my thoughts increases. Amara lays her hand on my cheek and that pulls my attention to her. The fog recedes and the anger lessens.

“What do?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

We stare at the glinting metal. An urge to tear at the metal surges, and I step forward, grabbing the lochaber off my back. I grip the shaft in both hands and raise it over my