Page 67 of Entwined
I do the only other thing I can think to do at that point, and I reach up and unbutton the top of my dragon-skin tunic, and then I tear it down, exposing the birthmark that, in my memory, sent the people who didn’t exist into a frenzy.
“Do you see this?” I ask. “Hjartanu!”
First, one with forked horns notices the mark, and then the others notice it as well. They begin to surge toward me, which is alarming at first, but once I’m again reassured they can’t seem to escape the lava, I calm down a bit.
That’s when I notice that their chant has also changed.
In place of ‘hjartanu,’ they’re now chanting another word, a word I don’t know at all. Cutch-vwaith. I have no idea what it means, but I hope it’ll mean something to the old lady in Selfoss. Satisfied that I have a new clue, and that maybe I am somehow connected to this place, I walk toward the exit. Between Azar and the old woman, hopefully one of them will have an idea for our next step.
When I leave this time, there won’t be a woman with a prosthetic leg and a dagger, bent on dragging me back toward the lava. But as I turn to leave, buttoning up my tunic, the demons do react.
They downright freak out.
Their chanting increases in intensity, and unless I’m badly mistaken, more of them show up. A lot more. There were probably only twenty or so at first, I’m guessing, but the horn patterns for some were quite distinctive, so I could kind of ballpark how many were milling around in the sizzling, bubbling lava. Now, there are much closer to a hundred. They’re slamming into one other, shoving the others aside, and their eyes are all wide, frantic. They’re now shouting vera and that same word, cutch-vwaith, over and over.
And dragons show up.
Now, amidst the horned demon-people, there are three—no, four—maybe even five dragons spinning, leaping, and twining past the gathered demons. They’re hissing, spitting, and roaring amid the chants of the horned humanoids.
Their arrival makes me run even faster.
By the time I reach the tunnel entrance, lava starts to spray outward, splattering on the ground I was standing on moments before. Vera, vera, vera, cutch-vwaith, over and over and over, louder and louder. The churning and chanting and lava spray increase in frequency, and I can’t stay and watch for another second.
Fearing another fall, I fumble around for Mom’s phone for a moment until I remember that I already dropped it. Finally, I take off, lurching my way down the tunnel as quickly as I can manage without falling flat on my face.
When a blast of air—calling it hot would be a major understatement—slams into me from behind at almost the same moment I hear a loud cracking-popping sound, I’m genuinely worried that some of them managed to break through. So when I realize that Azar’s drawing closer, finally, I’m relieved. I hope I’m not dragging him away from anything important, but I’m beginning to worry that I might be in real danger.
Who are those people and why do they have horns?
Why did the dragons turn up, too? Why are there dragons trapped in the lava, and what does it mean? Why are they so interested in my heart mark? What do they want with me?
And possibly most important of all, what would happen if they did manage to free themselves and come after me? Do they want to eat me? Roast me? Drag me into the volcano?
Or maybe they just have questions that need answers—too bad I have none to give.
My foot hits a rough spot and I sprawl forward, barely avoiding face planting against the rock. My already-scraped hands protest the abuse vociferously, but there’s no time for even brushing them off. I shove myself back up to my feet and keep jogging forward.
The ground starts to get slick, and I slide and slam into the side wall, ripping a tear in my tunic that also shreds the skin along my elbow. On the way down, the tunnel felt insufferably long, but blessedly, I manage to escape quickly after just the one fall and then slam into the sidewall, bursting out of the utter darkness of the small tunnel into the stone clearing at the side of the mountain. The snow has all melted, probably from the heat those lunatics are generating in the volcano, and as I collapse on the wet ground, I can hear wings beating overhead. I’m initially relieved. . .until I realize that Azar isn’t here.
Not yet.
He’s moving this way, but he’s not here.
It’s a red dragon, but it’s not my red dragon.
What are you doing here without my brother? Hyperion looks genuinely curious. You appear distressed, Elizabeth Chadwick. May I lend you my assistance?
Before I can breathe a word of response, an enormous creature—ten feet tall, at least, naked, black, and smoking, bursts through the exit from the tunnel. He’s bearing down on me with a bare few feet to spare, and he’s livid. He shouts cutch-vwaith loudly, his fangs bared, horns curving back away from his head, and then he leaps toward me, clawed hands outstretched.
The flame that erupts from Hyperion’s open mouth incinerates the creature, punching him backward into the tunnel as he explodes, ash scattering like confetti from some kind of party grenade.
Whoa, Hyperion says. What in the world was that?
“Nothing good.” I’m still puffing from my run, and my elbow and hands are all stinging pretty badly.
My brother dropped you off and left you to explore the volcano alone? Hyperion sounds incredulous. You should really pass your bond to me. I would never do that.
Neither would Azar, if he didn’t have a secret to hide. “It’s fine,” I say. “He’s almost here.”