Warriors of Wind and Ash (Merciless Dragons #2)

He does a loop in the air, seemingly oblivious to my reply. “You were right not to bring the human enchantress along. I don’t trust her.”

“Neither do I, but that isn’t why I left her behind. She’s too well-known, too recognizable, and our goal is stealth—at least until we find out where the Princess is and how heavily she’s being guarded. Then I will determine whether you and I can free her ourselves, or whether we need to summon the power of the entire clan. I hope to avoid that. It would doubtless result in the deaths of more dragons, and we are few in number as it is.”

Hinarax dips lower, letting his back claws trail through the sea foam. “I hope one day there can be peace among dragons and humans. No warring kingdoms, no dragon hunts. Prince Varex says humans can teach us how to craft things we haven’t been able to make before.”

“Perhaps. But don’t be too inquisitive on this journey. You and I must keep our true nature a secret while we’re in Elekstan.”

“That may be difficult. Where will we hide when we revert to dragon form?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I admit. “In the woods, or in a large empty building? A cave, perhaps? Surely they have caves. We’ll keep our eyes open for potential hiding spots. It will be your job to track the number of hours we’ve spent in each form, and to determine how much time we have left. In addition to helping me fit in among the humans.”

“Right, yes, of course, I can almost certainly, possibly, help you try to do that.”

I give him a sidelong glance. “Because you’re so knowledgeable about them, as you boasted to us a few hours ago.”

He swallows, dips his head a little. “Y-y-es. I’m very knowledgeable.”

“Hinarax.”

“You can trust me, Prince. I watched the Vohrainian soldiers put on their uniforms and eat together. The fashions and manners of the palace can’t be much different, can they?”

“I have no idea.”

“It will be fine.” He says it firmly, cheerfully, as if by sheer willpower he will make it so.

I release a long sigh and beat my wings, speeding toward a sheltered cove up ahead.

Since Fortunix was on an errand for the King of Vohrain, he would have flown openly, not trying to conceal his presence. Hinarax and I will travel on foot, at least during the day, so Rahzien won’t be warned of our approach. Before we begin our journey, we must determine whether Fortunix headed north to Vohrain or west to the Capital, and to get that information, we’ll have to find humans who may have seen a dragon flying overhead recently.

We land in the cove, at the base of a rocky bluff. The instant my claws grate against the pebbled beach, several gulls rise, squawking. I inspect them carefully as they flap and circle overhead.

Rahzien used to have more than two dozen talking birds, but many of them were killed during the war. Their red glowing eyes, a side effect of the magic that enabled them to speak, served as a dead giveaway, and Elekstan’s archers would target them on sight. Because they were so noticeable, Rahzien typically used the birds as messengers, not spies. He could not risk them too close to the enemy.

As far as I know, he has only a few talking birds left, with no way to get more since the sorcerer who spelled them died months ago. I doubt he would send his remaining birds to do random surveillance flights, but I should keep watch for them all the same.

“Watching for Rahzien’s birds?” Hinarax inquires.

“Just in case.”

“During the war, I befriended one of the keepers of the royal birds—a very handsome fellow, as humans go. He told me the phrases Rahzien must use every time he commands his birds—one special phrase to open the bird’s mind, and another phrase to confirm the order. Of course the keeper was very drunk that night. Didn’t seem to remember anything the next day. I wonder if we’ll have a chance to get drunk during this mission? I would love to try wine, and ale, and mead, and rum…”

“Doesn’t liquor interfere with one’s mental capabilities?” I ask. “If so, we should avoid it. As I recall, Rahzien forbids his soldiers from drinking except on rare occasions.”

“True… but many of them drank in secret,” Hinarax replies. “Some of them were very amusing to watch, once they’d emptied a few tankards.”

“We should keep our minds on the task at hand.” I unclasp my left front claw, releasing a bundle of clothing onto the beach. Among other things, I brought with me a pair of boots, two shirts, and two pairs of pants, items Serylla scavenged from Thelise’s stash. They fit me well enough, though I’m not sure what sort of human they’re meant to clothe, and for which occasions.

Serylla seems to draw a distinction between certain outfits. She tried to explain it to me once, while we were sheltering from the Mordvorren. Some clothes are for sleeping, others for hard work, others for walking or riding, and still others for dinner and visiting. Then there are finer clothes for special occasions, like feasts or balls.

To me, human clothing is divided into two categories—shiny and not shiny. I prefer shiny things. Unfortunately, none of the clothing currently in my possession is shiny. Perhaps at some point I can purchase a more attractive outfit.

Next I inspect my long black claws and focus my thoughts on banishing them, as Thelise instructed. Before we left Ouroskelle, Ashvelon brought the enchantress to my cave, where she performed another charm, one she claimed would affect not only me, but all dragons, enabling them to summon or dispel their horns and claws while in human form. She wrote the words of the spell on a flat stone with ink, then had Ashvelon trace them deeper into the rock with his claw. Once that was done she arranged many polished stones and clumps of herbs around the stone slab, along with a scale from Ashvelon.

During the casting of the spell, her eyes glowed violet, and afterwards she slumped over, conscious but weary. Ashvelon carried her off to rest, shortly before Rothkuri and his companion, Everelle, entered my cave. Everelle seemed thrilled to be one of the guardians for my eggs, and she asked shyly if, when the time came, she could lay her own eggs in the same nest, so that she and Rothkuri could watch over all of them at once. I have never seen a dragon look so overjoyed and proud as Rothkuri did when she made the request, so of course I said yes. Much as I hated leaving my offspring behind, it eases my mind to know they will be well cared for.

Thelise’s spell must have worked, because once I harness my thoughts again and focus them on my claws, the pointed black nails transform into rounded, pale ones. I concentrate on my tongue next, feeling its cloven tip merge into one seamless, fleshy curve.

“This is the oddest feeling.” I form the words carefully, testing the new shape of my tongue. Pleased to find that my speech is barely affected by the change, I turn my thoughts to the last telltale sign of my nature and will it to vanish. “Are my horns gone, Hinarax?”