Betwixt set Saturday down gently. Peregrine let her gain her footing before catching her up into an embrace of his own. “You did it.”
“Yes. I did.”
Peregrine tried to examine her face, but her hair was a wet mess again, caked with either red dirt . . . or dried blood. “Are you all right?”
He moved to cup her head in his hands, but she leaned in and kissed him instead. This was no kiss of exuberance or companionship; it was one of relief and hope. In the brief moment that she held him, he let himself hope as well.
“Any sign of the dragon?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Peregrine caught her arm as she tripped over the uneven floor. She was wearing one of his old kitchen skirts. “You really are a girl!”
Saturday rolled her eyes. “It was either this, or stay naked.”
Peregrine raised his eyebrows.
Saturday punched him in the shoulder. “I could still take lessons from you.”
“You never know,” said Peregrine. “One day you may need them.”
They ran back into the witch’s lair and stopped at the base of the cave-in. Saturday sifted through the ash and rubble to find her savaged belt and scabbard. “Where’s my sword?”
He could put off her disappointment no longer. Peregrine pulled the transformed ring from his skirt pocket and placed it in Saturday’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
There was no singing in the air as she touched it—it simply stayed the ring that it was. Saturday stared into her palm, snapping her fingers into a fist around it when she felt the mountain buck and lost her footing again. “You have got to be kidding me.” She closed her eyes and held her closed fist to the cold sky. “Change, damn you! I command it!”
The incredible magic she’d been able to perform now abandoned her. Try as she might, the ring would not transform. Their only decent weapon was the runesword at Peregrine’s waist. “Take this,” he said.
Saturday stopped him. “There’s no time. We need to go.” She raised her arm as if to throw the ring across the cavern. “Stupid, useless magical—”
Peregrine caught her hand. “Never lose hope. The gods have ways of returning such items to their owners.”
“The gods also have ways of forcing unwilling humans into destinies,” she said. “Here. You take it. I’ll just lose it.” With a nod, Peregrine dipped his head to remove the chain that held his father’s wedding band. Saturday recovered a dagger from the ground near where her sliced swordbelt lay. She also found the wooden hairbrush Peregrine had given her. He expected her to toss the useless item away, but instead, she tucked it in the pocket of her skirt. The gesture warmed him.
Meanwhile, the rest of the cave began to warm by other means. Molten Earthfire poured through the hole in the ceiling from which Saturday had dropped, turning the moat to steam as it slid across the floor.
Peregrine scrambled higher on the pile of rock and tilted his head back at the night sky. Pillows of steam venting from the mountain blotted out the stars. The hole in the ceiling had widened as the mountain shuddered. “We need a rope,” he called down to his friends.
“I need wings,” Saturday said.
“I can give you those,” said Betwixt. The air crackled with magic and a song much like the one Peregrine had heard when Saturday’s sword had changed in his hands. Betwixt was swallowed inside a ball of golden light.
Peregrine caught her by the neck and kissed her hard. “In case we never get this chance again.”
She kissed him back. “We will. We have to.”
“Because you’re going to save us.”
Saturday smiled. “We’re going to save each other.”
Betwixt whinnied. The chimera stood proudly before them, a great stallion of white and gray and silver like a well-muscled cloud on a summer’s day. From his haunches unfurled wings, each almost as large again as he was from tip to tail. The feathers shimmered in the hot air like new-fallen snow and hope.
“Pegasus! Brilliant!” Peregrine whooped at his friend. He scrambled down from their perch, dragging Saturday after him.
“I’m a woodcutter,” she said. “I’m no good on a horse.”
“I’m the son of an earl,” he shot back. “I was born on one. Hop on.”
“I’m wearing a skirt.”
Peregrine reached down between her feet and pulled the back hem of her skirt forward and up, tucking it securely in the front of her waistband. “Voilà, pantaloons. Now, up!” He knelt, and she used his leg to launch herself onto Betwixt’s back.
Peregrine rested one hand on Betwixt’s back and vaulted himself up after her. “Let’s fly!” he announced.
“Wait!” yelled Saturday.
The mountain rumbled and roared again. More bits of the ceiling crumbled down into the lair. Earthfire crept slowly across the floor. A few fist-sized rocks rolled under Betwixt’s hooves and Peregrine worried about his friend breaking a leg. One of the rocks leapt onto Peregrine’s skirt and crawled into his lap. It shook off the dust to reveal the ginger fur beneath.
“A brownie?”
“Just let it come,” said Saturday.
There was little time to argue over the wisdom of saving a rodent. Peregrine urged the notch-eared brownie into his pocket and signaled to Betwixt that they were ready.
The pegasus broke into a solid gallop across the lair and up the pile of fallen rubble. Peregrine worried about their speed, the weight of them on the chimera’s back, and the sword at his side banging into Saturday’s leg. Then Saturday wrapped her arms around his waist, Betwixt spread his wings, and Peregrine worried about nothing at all.
Hot steam and the cold night stung his cheeks; he opened his mouth and breathed them in together. They tasted like freedom. Betwixt’s wing beats came slow and even, each one carrying them farther and farther away from the prison that had been their home.
Peregrine turned to look back at the mountain. It looked so peaceful at this distance, like a cake dusted with sugar on a midnight-velvet table. The vents of steam might have been birthday candles, just blown out. Ice crystals twinkled on the peak like the stars above would have, had they not been hidden beneath row upon row of brilliant ice clouds that shone down upon them, all the colors of the rainbow.
“The Northern Lights!” Peregrine called to Saturday, and she followed his pointing finger up to the heavens. He took in their beauty, closed his eyes, and memorized the view. When he opened them back up he saw Saturday smiling at him with those bright eyes he had loved for so long. He leaned into her slightly, hoping to steal one more kiss without throwing Betwixt off balance.
Behind them, the mountain erupted.
Earthfire spilled down the mountainside. Shards of ice flew past them, biting into their legs and Betwixt’s flanks. Despite the danger, the chimera spread his wings wide and rode the drafts of air, refusing to let them force him to the ground. They spun and spun, jumping from one draft to another until Betwixt found suitable purchase.
Peregrine’s stomach rolled over. Saturday’s arms tightened around his chest. Peregrine folded his arms on top of hers and curled into the wind, squeezing his legs against Betwixt and praying for them to stay balanced and airborne. He wished for a saddle, and then chuckled at the idea of wasting a wish on something so ridiculous.
They spun around again, and Peregrine watched as the tip of the mountain was blown high into the air. As if in slow motion, the giant crystal pyramid hovered before splintering into a million pieces. Those splinters didn’t fly out; instead, the pyramid expanded, growing wider and wider before it threw its head back and roared.
The dragon awoke from its sleeping death and took to the skies.
In his youth, Peregrine had heard stories about Lord Death and his angels with their wings of feathers and fire. This Death rode the chaotic currents on wings of ice and stone. The beast was alive, and it was not happy.
Saturday’s arms locked around Peregrine. Had he been able to manage it he would have told her not to look, not to turn her head and risk the dragonfear, but what mortal could resist gazing upon such a legend of dangerous beauty? The beast was magnificent; having slumbered so long inside the mountain, it was now truly a part of it. Its white horn and beak stood out prominently, but they were decorated with more small peaks where there should have been none, all across the dragon’s face and wing coverts. Its claws and primaries looked to be carved of pure, clear crystal, as did its eyes, though they burned red with rage and flame.