Page 32 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon

Chapter Thirty-Two

I didn’t win Cadoc’s wager, but neither did he. Neith claims the victory, with a death toll of eleven. Jaromir wasn’t far behind with nine, and Cadoc counted eight felled by his arrows.

Obviously, I must write this into the ballad. Neith, the bringer of pain, commander of death! Aeron can share some of the glory. By the rotten blood coating her arms and face, and the slight limp she’s valiantly trying to hide, I say she’s earned it.

The cave’s entrance looms above, a dark gaping opening into the heart of the unnamed mountain. Dead grass lines the narrow path as it curves its way up the side of the increasingly steep terrain. The sun fights its way through clouds and mist to dapple along our trail. A few trees still stand, having not yet fallen into waste like Death Valley. A few pines, hearty and unyielding, edge along the side of the rock face, but even they gradually thin, until all that remains is the unforgiving stone and the dormant earth.

My breath is harder to catch, and each step grows heavier. I tug down the samite scarf, tucking it beneath my chin in search of air.

“Try to keep your breathing even.” Jaromir touches my shoulder. “Don’t hold your breath, but don’t try to breathe too quickly.”

I huff in exasperation. “Easy for you to say, with your giant strides.”

His mouth twitches. “Think of it like a song and maintain the beat.”

Well. That’s actually kind of brilliant. Unhelpful, since I’m not trying to breathe wrong or whatever, and it isn’t as if one loses their breath on purpose, but still, brilliant.

“You should teach something. I’m not sure what, but you’re annoyingly patient for a man who only spoke to me in grunts and growls not too long ago.”

He offers me his hand, and I’m not even ashamed when I accept his help over a particularly steep part of the path. “Perhaps I’m only patient with people I care for.”

My heart gives a little jolt at his words, but that’s all they are. Words. I once thought words were the most powerful thing in the world. But now I see how empty they can be when there’s nothing to bolster them. A promise hanging like the last leaf of late autumn, only to be blown away by winter’s gale.

“Right.” I pull my hand from his, ignoring the way my nerves alight at the sensation of my palm sliding against his, and keep my gaze trained ahead. On Neith and Cadoc as we push our way higher. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”

“It isn’t,” he says gruffly. “In fact, we’re here.”

Neith and Cadoc have stilled up ahead, staring into the cave without making any move to enter. The closer I step, the more the details of the cave’s entrance sharpen into focus. The stone is marred with scorch marks. A few scattered pieces of rusted old armor are strewn about the floor of the cave. A dull-looking sword here. A blackened helm there.

One very important detail I haven’t quite let myself think about this entire trek.

There’s a dragon inside.

Any doubt has been swiftly erased by the signs that flames have consumed this entrance on more than one occasion.

I run my hand along the stone, cautiously, as if I expect it to be hot to the touch. But, of course, the rock is cool. My finger finds a strange hole, a pipe. Examining the area, I realize a series of thin pipes line the mouth of the cave. A strange hissing sound softly emitting from each one.

“Do any of you hear this?”

Jaromir presses his ear close to mine, and his frown deepens. “I hear it, but I don’t understand.”

“Just,” Neith calls out, slowly stepping around us to enter the cave, “be careful.”

“I’ll do my best, but I don’t think tiptoeing is going to trick a dragon.”

The walls of the cave are so neat and… uniform. Almost as if they were carved with great care. More and more rows of those pipes lurk along the stone, nearly invisible to the eye unless one knows to look for them.

My foot finds something smooth and level; even through my boot I can feel the difference, and a metallic clink echoes through the cave. I freeze, heart pounding in my chest.

The hissing returns in full force, louder this time. I glance down to find I’m standing on a perfect bronze tile laid into the floor of the cave. Panic grips my throat, and I whip my head to meet Jaromir’s alarmed stare.

“What do I do?”

Jaromir holds his hands out, creeping toward me. “I’m going to slowly take your place, and you’re going to let off when I tell you.”

That makes no sense. All I know is, I step on the square, and the walls hiss at me, as if they’re pissed I didn’t watch where I was going. “Jaromir…”

“It looks like you’ve stepped on a pressure-plate. It’s ancient dwarven technology. I’m going to replace the pressure so you can move away safely.”

I’ve read of ancient dwarven technology, of advancement of engineering in Hawthok. But theory is safer than practice.

Jaromir is far heavier than I am. Will the added weight trigger some sort of mechanism? Is this an alarm system? Why is he familiar with ancient dwarven artifacts?

I swallow down my questions along with the hysteria rising in my throat. “Why… why is there a trap in a dragon’s cave?”

“I don’t know. But as I place my foot, you’re going to step away, understand?”

I nod, not at all understanding any of this, but I can follow simple orders. He invades my space as he slowly presses his boot next to mine.

“All right, slowly lift your foot as I place mine.”

I do as he says, trusting in the moment that he knows what he’s talking about. It’s safer than falling to panic over all my unanswered questions.

I step backward, leaving him in my place on the pressure-plate. This isn’t a solution exactly, but at least I can take a full breath knowing I’m not about to cause some sort of catastrophe within these cave walls.

“Now what do we do?”

Jaromir glances around, as if it’s only just occurred to him he’d be just as stuck as I was. “I’ll wait here. Without knowing what this trigger does, I won’t risk setting it off.”

Of course, Jaromir would trade our positions, placing himself in direct danger without thought.

He’ll take good care of Rhosyn. The thought cuts through me before I can stop it, but alongside the accompanying sting, there’s a warmth I might even call fondness. Jaromir is many things, good and noble, sometimes downright daft. But I can’t claim he’s ever faked what we have.

Had.

What we had.

With a sigh, I sit on the ground at his feet, stretching my legs. If he’s staying, so am I. The look he gives me is decidedly cross, but he says nothing to counter my decision. Neith and Cadoc move at a glacial pace, clearly not wanting to set off any more surprises.

“What do these triggers tend to do?”

“Spikes, floors falling away, cave-ins.” Jaromir gives a shrug as if he’s rattling off specials at the tavern.

“Why do you know so much about these?”

“I’ve explored caves and ruins across the continent. Always on the lookout for a secret hoard.”

I can see it. Jaromir’s dark hair unbound as he rides off to his next big adventure. The freedom of the great unknown. He might play the part of the hulking grump with aplomb, but he can’t fool me. He was made for life on the road. I’ve seen it in the way he relaxes by the fire, always working on something. How the tension in his shoulders gradually loosens with each step we trek away from civilization. How at home he is amongst the trees.

When I first met him, he was so… harsh. Angry. Perhaps because he knew this was his last adventure before he planted roots. Once he marries Rhosyn, I have no doubt he’ll stay close. He’ll be the husband she deserves. The father to his nieces.

“Maybe we’ll spot a few more places to explore on the way back.” Just saying the words, mentioning what comes next after this, spears ice through my chest. But I force myself to smile. “Nothing that would defer you too long, of course.”

Jaromir’s expression softens. “Syl…”

“Watch out!” Cadoc’s voice cuts through the cave, interrupting whatever Jaromir was about to say.

The cave rumbles, a deep angry sound. The floor beneath me trembles its warning, and I freeze, unsure if I move, I’ll make it worse.

“It’s all right,” Jaromir says, holding out a steadying hand. “Neith and Cadoc must have stepped on another pressure plate. If no one moves, we should be fine.”

Should.

I don’t very much like that word in this context.

Another thundering quake reverberates through the cave as if in rebuttal to his assurances. My heart drops, and I fight the urge to squeeze my eyes shut, as if not seeing the danger will keep me from harm.

When has that ever worked?

The span of several heartbeats grants us blessed silence. Perhaps he was right, and we can assess our next move as soon as—

The floor opens, and like a punch to the gut, my stomach sinks as I’m plunged into darkness. Jaromir’s voice calls my name, but soon that, too, is lost to the pitch-black chasm.