of the chain was not attached to an iron loop bolted to the floor, as she expected, but instead disappeared into the chamber’s stone wall, as if anchored by the mountain itself.
“The links must be spelled,” Lizzan said to Preter. “Look at how thin the chain is. That could not hold a dragon.”
“I sense no magic from it,” he said.
“It should not be difficult to loosen the knot at its throat,” said Aerax. “But we will have to draw the chain over its head.”
Lizzan nodded. “I will do that. If it will let me.”
Unknowing whether the dragon understood what they were doing, Lizzan put aside her sword before approaching the head, which the dragon had laid on the floor again, as if taking a nap. But its liquid black eyes were open, following Lizzan and Aerax as they walked past.
With his fingers lightly on the chain, Aerax followed its length toward the knot, which he would not have to untie but simply work slack through from the anchored end. She heard him murmuring to the dragon, and knew not if the creature recognized their intent—but it did not move or pull away as Aerax tugged on the chain, loosening the loop that circled its neck.
She more clearly heard Aerax tell the dragon that if it pulled, the chain would tighten again—and then Aerax looked to her.
“Slowly,” he said.
Slowly she did, climbing the chain hand-over-hand to the top of the dragon’s neck, where the scales hardened into triangular plates, as if a mountain range lined its body from the back of its skull to its tail. The chain had to be lifted over each peak, and Lizzan began dragging the silver loop forward toward the head.
When the press of its neck against the floor stopped the chain from moving, it became clear the dragon understood their intent, lifting its head to clear space between its scales and the floor.
It moved only a scant distance, yet Lizzan’s heart thundered and the entire world seemed to shift beneath her. How strange and wonderful her life was, that she was helping Aerax free a dragon after everything else this night had brought.
Lizzan reached the horns that arched back from above its eyes, and there had to pause. She could draw the chain over one horn at a time. Not both.
“I’ll help!” Seri called, and scampered forward. Lizzan saw Kelir’s face go bloodbare as his sister quickly climbed the chain, gritting his teeth and pulling at his hair as if to stop himself from saying anything.
After the horns, there were only the protrusions on its face that the chain might catch upon. Lizzan went down between the eyes first, more quickly now, aware of the nostrils steaming farther below. She pulled the chain over a spike above its snout and the silver abruptly slithered the rest of the way down the slippery scales, dropping to the floor.
Free.
“Leap down!” Aerax held out his hands, and Lizzan reached for Seri as the dragon abruptly lifted its head, carrying them up, its wings unfurling. Temra have mercy. Staggering for balance, Lizzan gripped the girl’s hand and they jumped. She nearly slammed into Aerax but caught herself, cushioning the impact with a forward roll that brought her straight back to her feet—then was flattened by a gust of wind from a flap of the dragon’s wings. She turned onto her back, watching as it lifted up and up into the lightening sky.
Beside her, Aerax clasped her hand, and they watched the dragon until it was gone.
She glanced over. Kelir clutched Seri to his chest, holding her tight as she sobbed against him.
“I rode a dragon,” she cried softly. “I rode a dragon.”
So she had. Lizzan felt her throat burn and she looked to Aerax, who pulled her closer into a kiss.
Lying nearby, Ardyl said, “I am full ready to climb those stairs and leave this place.”
Peter gave a heavy sigh. “If we go by the stairs, next we’ll likely have to scale a cliff.”
* * *
* * *
They went back the way they came, though not as quickly. Caeb found them midmorning, and everything within Lizzan rejoiced that he hadn’t come before the wraith had been melted into a lump. So light her heart seemed with the cat and Aerax walking alongside her, enjoying a breakfast picked from the garden chamber. Preter had stopped at the echo chamber to tell anyone remaining in the monastery that the wraith had been killed, but had warned any citizens of the city