The Lost Dragon Princess

Chapter 19

Interesting, Damas remarked as we followed the troll down the road, almost all of the beings turning to watch our passage. These people represent several different worlds and wouldn’t usually be found together. Historically, many of them have made war on each other.

It’s got to be a refuge of some kind. Maybe someone powerful—this Rawrna?—keeps the peace. What was more surprising to me was how this place could have avoided notice from the outside world.

Though the trees along the steep valley slopes were massive, with branches that stretched much more expansively than normal over the valley floor, sunlight filtered down through the leaves and needles. It was hard to imagine that this wouldn’t be visible to the various helicopters and planes that flew around the area, taking visitors over the mountains and volcanoes. I’d seen a pamphlet for a tour that flew people around to remote locations to look for sasquatch.

But as I eyed the branches, I noticed a hint of magic about them. It was hard to pick out, since the auras of magical beings and artifacts bombarded me from all sides here, but an enchantment was definitely up there, hiding the valley from outside detection.

A few beings whispered as we passed, and with my translation charm still active, I picked out Ruin Bringer, Slayer, and Deathstalker along with other less flattering names I’d heard before. Even so, I hadn’t realized I was this notorious among the magical. A few of the speakers were children, gnomes and dwarves wearing the tattered clothing of true refugees. I decided I didn’t want this fame—this infamy—and wished I could let them know they had nothing to fear from me, so long as they didn’t prey on humans.

One boy called out a semblance of Boogie’s name, the accent putting the stresses in odd places, and threw a grubby tennis ball. The dog bounded off to get it. Mom lifted a hand, as if to call him back, but she dropped her arm and let him retrieve the ball. He brought it back to her instead of the skinny gnome kid who’d thrown it, but she passed it along to the owner. Boogie wagged his tail for the first time since we’d encountered the werewolves.

“There she is.” Mom pointed to a cave set into the back of the valley and framed by a pergola made from wood and the porous lava-rock boulders.

The huge golem sat on a stone bench the size of a conference table, her dark gray skin almost matching the surrounding rock. She looked like she’d been carved from it, with waves of green hair akin to moss falling to her broad shoulders. Very old eyes like polished pieces of obsidian gazed at me as we approached.

I would not wish to fight a golem, Damas informed me. Their skin is as hard as the rocks of their native world.

So I shouldn’t piss her off?

I recommend against it. She is a lava golem. They are slow to anger, but when they lose their temper, it is as bad as a volcano erupting. They can melt pieces of their stone flesh and throw flaming lava balls at enemies, assuming they don’t simply grab you and crush you to pieces.

Our troll guide bowed to the golem and backed away without a word, heading back to her post.

“Hello, Rawrna,” my mother said. “I apologize for intruding in your world again, but my daughter has a mystery it’s important for her to solve, and I thought you might be familiar with a sigil that’s her only clue.”

“Your daughter is the Ruinous Dame?” The golem spoke slowly and precisely, her deep rumble reminding me of a cement mixer.

“Apparently.”

“She is not welcome among our kind.”

“I’m not here to bother anyone,” I said. “And I’ll pay for the information. In money or tennis balls and pool noodles. Whatever excites people here.”

The obsidian eyes regarded me without warmth. Mom frowned at me. I felt like the delinquent teenager who had been dragged home by the police.

“I thought,” Mom said to Rawrna, “that since you told me before that you’ve been here since the last volcanic eruption, you might be familiar with all the races that have come and gone in that time period.”

“Hasn’t it been over a thousand years since the volcano erupted?” I waved in the direction of the lakes and Paulina Peak.

Mom nodded. “Golems are long-lived, she tells me.”

“It is true,” Rawrna said. “I was alone then and for many centuries afterward, except when travelers passed through. Now, the village is full of life. It is very busy to one such as myself, but I cannot turn away refugees.” Her gaze fell on me again. “There are so few safe places for them in this world.”

Because this isn’t their world, I kept myself from saying. Instead, I pulled out the vial and warily approached the golem. Even sitting, Rawrna towered over me, with shoulders four times wider than mine. She had to weigh thousands of pounds. But she didn’t make any sudden movements.

“Will you look at the sigil on the bottom of this and let me know if you recognize it?” I waved the vial. “I’ll pay,” I repeated, though I didn’t know if money was useful to these people. It wasn’t as if a golem could walk into a 7-11.

“Did you slay the werewolf protectors?” she asked. “Or did the dragon?”

Uh. They had called themselves protectors, and she called them that too. I’d hoped they hadn’t been allied. If I told her the truth, she probably wouldn’t help me. More than that, she might order everybody here to attack me.

The children, I noticed, had disappeared, and only adults were present now. More than fifty of them watched our exchange, some with clubs, short swords, or bows. A couple of flinty-faced dwarves had guns.

Though I was tempted to foist the deaths of the werewolves off on Xervan, it was possible the golem could communicate with him and that I would be caught lying. I didn’t like lying anyway. I didn’t think I had been at fault when it came to the werewolves, but if I’d made a mistake, I preferred to own up to it. The only thing that made me pause was all the baleful looks—and the weapons—aimed in my direction.

“They attacked me,” I said, “and I defended myself. I asked if they would let us turn back without a fight, but they said no. So, yes, I killed several of them. Five, I believe, between myself and Damas. I’m not sure how many the dragon killed, if any. He captured one and lit a couple others on fire. They may have survived.”

The golem listened to my tale, then looked to one of the side walls in her cave. It was more of an alcove, and I didn’t sense or feel anything magical in the stone itself, but she spoke to the wall.

“Is that correct?”

The rock wall shimmered, and a surge of magical awareness flooded me even before Xervan walked out in human form to stand next to the golem and face me. Physically, he appeared small next to Rawrna, but magically, he was like the sun compared to a distant star.

I couldn’t read the haughty expression he leveled at me, but I made myself stare back at him with determination. I didn’t care if he radiated the power of a supernova. This was my world, not his, and he didn’t have any right to judge me or tell me what I could do here.

“It’s correct,” he said, still looking at me, though he replied to Rawrna. “I let the werewolves who fled live, though they should have been punished. They were arrogant and did not properly defer to a dragon.”

“Yeah, I had the same problem with them.” It probably wasn’t the time for lippiness—the dark frown my mom sent me assured that—so I resolved to keep my mouth shut, unless it was about the vial.

“It is no surprise that a werewolf would not defer to a human.” Xervan’s violet eyes closed to slits but remained locked on me. “Even a mongrel with the blood of an elf and a dragon who lowered themselves to rut. And the way this woman looks at elves it is certain that she is fascinated with them in the carnal way.”

Mom turned her frown on Xervan, and indignation burned in her eyes. And then I looked at him and said,” You have any problem with me, then talk to me. Don’t you dare to talk to my mother in this way. You are nothing but a glorified lizard with wings and I don’t care who you are and what your powers are but the next time you insult my mother with baseless rumours I am going to rip your tongue out.”

“You have earned the hatred of all the magical beings in this part of this world.” Xervan walked toward me, his hands clasped behind his back, and then circled me, eyeing me up and down. It wasn’t s****l—if he’d been affronted by the idea of an elf and a dragon mating, he’d wither up and die in horror at a dragon having relations with a human. It was more like that of an undefeated boxer sizing up a scrawny newcomer to the arena. “I can understand why, of course,” he continued, “since you stomped into my way and killed the wyvern I was in the middle of arresting.”

Why did I have a feeling this guy was making me his special project? Was it truly coincidence that he’d found criminals right next to me on two separate occasions, or was he stalking me for some reason? Running into each other at the seaside cave over the wyvern could have been chance, but what were the odds that his second arrest would bring him halfway across the state to the same mountainside where I was?

“The wyvern that killed humans and that I was charged by my authorities to kill,” I stated. “I was on the case first, as I said. You weren’t around when I executed the first two, and it’s not my fault you came late to the third one.”

“If there were others, they were not my concern. And you were not there first.”

“I was already there when you walked in, asshole.”

“Oh?”

Hell, hadn’t he realized that? If not, I was an i***t for hinting at one of my advantages. If I had to fight him again, the cloaking charm might be the only thing that would save my life.

Xervan stopped his circling at my side, his chest a hair’s breadth from brushing my shoulder. He lifted a hand—I almost expected to see claws at the ends of his fingers, but he had normal, well-trimmed nails. As I watched that hand come closer, it was all I could do not to spring back and draw Nightshade.

But the armed refugees behind me had inched closer, and Rawrna was watching me intently. I had the feeling this was a test. But if I annoyed him enough, he might break my neck. His hand was heading toward it. No, it was to my necklace, not my neck. He ran his finger along the charms and paused in front of the one that had camouflaged me that day in the wyvern cave.