An orphan must betray the dragon that gave him a true home and family in order to save his guardian's life. Fourteen-year-old Foxkit plays with fire by striking a bargain with the ferocious dragon Aerohim: Let six runaway orphans hide in his den in...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Far above Mount Galefang, beyond the smoke of the burning forest and many leagues past the gentle shroud of snow clouds, beyond the highest blue patch of sky where even the air thins to void, the moon trembled. The lunar light grew brighter as a milky opal eye as vast as an ocean twitched, opening a slit. A cry from the little world below had broken through the serene chamber walls of its slumber . . . .
***
"Stop."
Kit spoke only one word, but it slammed over the forest with such force that the clouds of ash and snowflakes wreathing Mt. Galefang parted, revealing the moon's silver face.
"Why?" Lord Ash asked curiously, but he relaxed his grip on the heart ever so slightly.
Aerohim's head smashed to the ground with a groan. The orphans immediately tried to reach the dragon's side, but they were completely hemmed in by the dizzy white shimmer of Inorog at least fifteen-strong. Even with the gold dampening their magic, there were simply too many razor spires for the children to drive back. Not even Sheen could break free; both sides were stuck in a stalemate . . . for now.
Kit found himself staring into Lord Ash's burning pupils all by himself.
"Why?" he repeated, "do you treat me like an enemy, boy?"
I don't know—maybe because you threw me off a cliff, Kit thought, and then flinched as Lord Ash smiled in a way that made the dire wolves' fangs seem dull in comparison.
His face gleamed with a mask-like brilliance as the molten gold running down his skin flaked off, as if an incredible heat seared through his pores. "We are ever so much alike," he insisted.
"You lie," Kit said, backing away a step before he even realized he'd given space up. Somehow, he sensed there was danger in listening to this man's careful, silky phrases.
"I never lie," Lord Ash said flatly. "I, too, was born crippled, cursed with a disease that made my horn brittle. Imagine, a unicorn without a spire!" He snorted derisively. "I was no better than a dumb horse until my weakness led me to the lore of magic bones and the true strength of my race."
"Stealing isn't strength," Sheen retorted.
"No, Princess?" Lord Ash said slyly. He pointed at Kit. "Look at him. See how that lame boy stands now: proud, erect, a prime specimen of mankind! My compliments to your father on his most excellent prophecy."
"What prophecy?" Kit asked, his hair prickling on his neck.
Lord Ash stifled a laugh behind his hand. "You mean nobody has told you?"
"A mortal child will steal all the Red Unicorn's dreams," Sheen murmured as if she didn't quite believe it herself. "Well, he has, hasn't he?" she said fiercely.
"And are you so eager to give that strength back to the Guardian, thief?" Lord Ash demanded of Kit. "You want to keep it for yourself, don't you? Just like me."
