Cold Steel

Bee’s tone was more breath than voice. “It’s a dragon.”

Night swept down. Lights like fireflies twinkled against a black sky. The sea surged, lifting like cloth raised from beneath by a hand. A bright shape emerged, smoke spilling off it in streams.

The dragon loomed over us. Its head was crested as with a filigree that reminded me of a troll’s crest, if a troll’s crest spanned half the sky. Silver eyes spun like wheels. It was not bird or lizard, nor was it a fish. Most of its body remained beneath the smoke. Ripples revealed a dreadful expanse of wings as wide as fields, shimmering pale gold like ripe wheat under a harsh sun. When its mouth gaped open, I knew it could swallow us in one easy gulp.

We had come to a place we ought not to be.

Awe deadened my heart and silenced my voice as I waited for the leviathan to devour us. Because wasn’t that what they did? Eat foul little creatures like me?

Bee’s voice rang out. “Greetings, Mighty One! I suppose you are one of those whose dreams I am obliged to wander on my restless nights. It’s very disconcerting. I must say, I could not appreciate that vision of my dearest Cat embracing a man so enthusiastically. There are some things I really do not care to see, and that is one of them. But be assured! I do as I am told. I’m very obedient! Furthermore, I should like to remind you that my cousin and I at great risk to ourselves unearthed a nest of hatchlings in the spirit world. I must suppose that any hatchlings who survive will grow to become such resplendent creatures as you.”

I gaped as the filigree crest flared, tightened, and widened again. Colors flashed through the dragon’s skin like spears from a rainbow.

Bee went on as in answer to a reply I had not heard. “So, if you please, Honored One, as a favor, and possibly because we have done you a service beforehand, could you please convey me and my cousin here and that cat over there and everything we carry safely across the Great Smoke to the shores of the land we call Europa?” She dipped a courtesy. “If you would be so kind.”

Down its head came like the inexorable fall of fate when the unsuspecting victim’s eyes are at last and too late opened to her doom.

“Don’t run, Cat,” said Bee. “Never run. Stand your ground. Look them in the eye. You were right for us to come here. And now I’m right. Trust me.”

I was so scared that I was actually afraid I was going to pee myself. That was the only reason I didn’t run, because I knew if I ran I would lose all my dignity and be very sticky afterward.

The dragon rested its head on the burning sands. The head alone was as big as a cottage. Its jaw opened to reveal a pale pink tongue. Instead of teeth, its upper mouth was rimmed with what looked like white, hairy combs as long as I was tall.

“It doesn’t have teeth,” said Bee. “How interesting! So you see, Cat, it can’t eat us.”

I found a croak. “It can still swallow us.”

“Rory!” she called, ignoring my perfectly rational observation. “We’re leaving.”

He began to pad away into the darkness of the cave.

“Rory!” I was suddenly more afraid of losing him than of the dragon. “Come. Here. Right. Now.”

Head down, he crawled over to us as if I were dragging him on a leash. Maybe I was. Perhaps I had inadvertently leashed him to my service, just as I had been chained by my sire.

When he reached me, I extended a hand. He hissed.

“Don’t you dare bite me!” I slapped his nose. “You’re coming with us whether you want to or not.”

His answering growl was more of a pathetic moan.

“Trust me, Rory.” I set a hand on his big head.

The dragon’s silver eyes had ceased whirling and now, like mirrors, reflected all that lay before it. I saw myself bedraggled, with the basket over my shoulder and my locket and sword like dull lumps of stone. Rory had fluffed out his fur to make himself look bigger than he already was. Bee shone like a queen, as radiant as a lamp.

I met her gaze in the mirror of the dragon’s eyes. I nodded.

She exhaled. “Not every young woman gets to march into the gullet of Leviathan.” The crack in her voice betrayed her: She wasn’t quite as sure of herself as she meant to sound.

The dragon’s breath huffed over us, not rancid but sweet, like the aroma of coconut milk as it bakes through a rice pudding. It pushed out its tongue over the ridge of its lip to make a bridge.

Never let it be said my courage had failed me when put to the test.

I tightened my grip on the loose skin of Rory’s neck. Together we walked up the slope. The tongue was oddly firm and dry beneath our tread, not at all slimy. Rory again gave that moaning growl as the tongue shifted beneath us. To keep our balance Bee and I set down the chest and held on to it, and I grabbed Rory, as the creature pulled its tongue back inside.