A few of the men had already shoved some gold and jewels into their pockets, but Miles wasn’t about to risk that. At least not yet. The baron could be mean when he thought he was being cheated and Miles had no intention of hanging from any gallows for some bloody gold. So he kept moving those buckets along.

Until the first body nearly hit him in the head.

It was Terence, landing hard between the two lines of men. He was still alive, and desperately trying to hold his guts in. A chore with that large hole in his stomach.

They were about to go to him, to help, when they heard more screaming, saw more of their friends and family come flying out of that hole that they’d spent days opening so they wouldn’t have to travel all the way through that big cave with buckets of coin

Black claws gripped the cave opening and a massive head covered in black scales suddenly appeared. Lowering that head, the creature was able to maneuver those bright white horns past the opening, and then it was there.

Big. Black. Covered in scales. And not nearly as old as the one they’d found in the cave. Reading a bloody book, no less, and drinking a giant chalice of wine. Miles remembered thinking, “Well la-de-da,” before they’d rushed it.

Maybe this one was its son or something. But whatever it was, it was bigger, younger, and meaner.

So much meaner.

Old Robert, thank the gods, was the only one not pissing himself from that dragonfear they’d all heard about but that they hadn’t felt when the old dragon had reared itself up. And it was Old Robert who rallied the boys.

“What are you doing?” he bellowed. “Kill it! Kill it now!”

Swords were unsheathed and spears raised.

“Charge!” Old Robert screamed and a group of the lads ran forward as Miles scrambled for his spear.

This dragon, unlike that other one, didn’t panic though. He just lifted his back claw and slammed it down, and the screams of his friends filled Miles’s ears.

Then the dragon opened its maw and flames came flying out. Big, giant flames that burned a group of the lads in seconds, barely giving them time to scream before they were nothing more than ash.

Panicked, terrified, Miles ran behind a big tree. He hid. Like a weak baby. But he was shaking so much, he couldn’t raise a sword or spear if he wanted to.

The baron’s soldiers, a unit left behind to keep an eye on the men—probably to keep them from stealing—split apart and went at the dragon from opposite sides.

They weren’t scared like the rest of them. They were soldiers, after all. Some of them, it was said, had fought with dragons before. So they were ready for this dragon.

What they weren’t ready for, however, were the arrows.

One arrow after another came raining down from the top of that cave. Miles leaned back and took a look. It was a woman. Pale, she was. With long, white-blond hair that pooled around her as she crouched at the top of the cave opening with a curved bow. And, she never missed a shot. Not one. Each arrow she sent out hit one of the baron’s men in the neck or eye or under the arm. Each shot meant to kill . . . and each shot did.

Even the dragon looked surprised—if it were possible for a thing to be surprised—as he glanced back at the woman. He nodded and then focused on the rest of the men. He pulled out the smallest sword. At least small compared to the dragon. But he slammed it against the side of the cave wall and the damn thing grew! Like some kind of evil magicks, it grew! Into a full-sized sword big enough for this dragon. And, with a roar, he began to swing that sword. Cutting the rest of the men into pieces, following up with his flame, stomping on a few for good measure. It was over in seconds.

Bloody seconds.

Slowly, the dragon turned to face the woman. “I thought you’d run to safety,” he said.

“Do not assume,” she said with some strange accent, “that I live in fear, Dolt. I went to higher ground.”

“I see that now. Sorry I questioned you. I should have remembered that you run toward death.”

“I do not run toward. I merely accept that death will come for me. What is point of fighting when death will have its way? And I will not have this argument with you again.”

“Who’s arguing?”

The woman gave a short hiss between her teeth, then asked, “What about him?”

She didn’t point at Miles, but the dragon slowly looked over his shoulder at the tree Miles was standing behind. “. . . I could use a snack.”

That’s when Miles pushed away from the tree and tried to run.

He tried. . . .

Chapter Eighteen

Elina retrieved as many of her arrows, the ones that hadn’t been broken or burned, as she could and returned to the top of the cave opening, where she’d had an excellent view. She sat down, her legs hanging over the side.

While she cleaned the arrowheads off with a cloth and put them back in her quiver, the dragon sat down beside her. Still in his dragon form, his back legs hanging over the top of the cave just as hers were, his front legs resting on his knees. She barely glanced at him, but it seemed a strange way for a dragon to sit.

Then, suddenly, the dragon burped, the sound of it sending birds flying from nearby trees.

Disgusted, Elina slowly turned her head to glower at him.

He stared back for a few seconds before telling her, “Oh, stop it. I didn’t eat him. I just stomped him into the ground. But I did find a sheep over there.” He shrugged. “And I was a little hungry.”

Deciding to take the dragon at his word, Elina went back to cleaning her arrows. That’s when the dragon shocked her more than she’d ever thought possible.