The dragon opened its mouth again. The belly of the beast rumbled like the mountain. Earthfire shot from its mouth and spewed across the distance in their direction. The flame glowed pink through the vanes of Betwixt’s translucent wings, outlining the quills and revealing just how little kept them all from tumbling to their deaths. Peregrine felt the heat of the blast on his face. Betwixt caught the updraft and let it carry them farther away from the mountain.
The chimera’s wing beats came faster. The dragon screeched after its prey. In his pocket, Peregrine felt the brownie’s claws against his skin as they seized up in fear. The weight of the rodent moved up his leg; Peregrine thought it might fall out of his pocket, but only a whiskered nose and two very pointed teeth poked through to witness the majesty of their hunter.
His hands twisted deeply into Betwixt’s soft mane, Peregrine turned to look back again. The dragon’s wings scooped the air and thrust it back, propelling it forward at a speed that cut the distance between them in half. This time, the dragonfear took him. His lungs turned to ice and his breath left him. The dragon was close, so close that Peregrine could make out the rows of its hungry teeth. The next fiery breath would consume them. His eyes wide, Peregrine gasped for air that would not come.
Saturday’s face moved in to interrupt his view of the dragon. Peregrine blinked. She planted a quick kiss on his lips that melted the dragonfear that gripped him, and he shuddered as he drew in a cold, misty lungful of life. Her eyes twinkled. They were about to die. Why was she smiling?
Between them, she held up her dagger, seized a handful of his long hair, and sawed it off. She muttered something into the dark bundle and threw it up into the air above her head, releasing it directly into the dragon’s path. The blue-green band on her wrist sparkled like her bright eyes. Peregrine watched as the hair floated peacefully on the wind, waiting. When the dragon was but a breath away, the strands turned into crystalwings. The mad black and blue flock of them flew into the face of the beast, attacking and confusing it. Peregrine thought he could smell blood on the currents as the sharp crystalwings bit into the dragon’s thick skin.
“DIVE!” Saturday yelled to Betwixt. Peregrine leaned forward and pressed his face into Betwixt’s mane, summoning the strength to hold on. The pegasus folded his wings, bent his head forward, and they plummeted through the atmosphere.
Peregrine could feel Saturday’s scream of excitement into his back. He cried out too, letting loose into the freezing night air all the frustration he’d been holding inside himself for so many years. The freedom was intoxicating.
Now that they were low enough, Betwixt played hide-and-seek through the clouds as they flew farther south, descending all the time over the peaks and valleys of pure white snow. The dragon fell back but did not tire, trumpeting in triumph every time it spotted them again and regained pursuit.
They might make it. Dear gods in the heavens, they might actually survive this!
To his left, Peregrine saw the morning sun peek over the horizon. But as the fingers of dawn rose to greet them, they also revealed another periclass="underline" what Peregrine had thought were snowy plains below them were waves on a vast ocean, whitecapped, beautiful, and deadly.
Peregrine had seen hundreds of maps, and at no point did he remember the ocean rising to meet the mountains. Worse still, there were naught but wispy, rainbow-hued clouds to hide them from the dragon. Nor was there any place to land once Betwixt grew too tired to fly.
Saturday’s arm moved from around his waist once again; this time, she removed the wood-handled brush from her skirt pocket. She closed her eyes, as if saying a small prayer, and threw the brush behind them. It tumbled ungracefully through the air before being swallowed by the ocean.
This time, nothing happened.
Peregrine bowed into Betwixt’s mane again, shielding his raw cheeks from the continued onslaught of wind. Saturday curled into Peregrine as well, muttering something into his back. A prayer, an apology, a declaration of love, a curse—Lord Death would let him know which, but he bet on the latter.
A new roar echoed in his ears, but it was not the dragon. Colored lightning fell from the chaotic clouds around them to snap against the breaking waves. Betwixt ascended as the waves rose up to meet them. The valleys began revealing houses, fences, and trees. Faster and faster the ocean fled, and from that drying earth grew the forest.
As soon as Betwixt found a suitable stretch of solid ground, he landed. The chimera’s breaths came heavy and his straining muscles were hot beneath Peregrine’s hands. He folded his great wings and continued to gallop, dodging back and forth as massive oaks and evergreens shot up around them.
The dragon shrieked in frustration at the loss of its quarry. Peregrine heard the rumble and blast that came with its fire, but the wet, new wood of this forest blessedly caught no flame. Betwixt slowed under the cover of a copse of ash and chestnut, the monoliths’ leaves taking on autumn hues even as they budded and grew.
The dragon shrieked again, but this time it sounded farther away. Peregrine could no longer distinguish its wing beats. Betwixt stopped to let them dismount. Peregrine collapsed to the damp ground, for his legs did not have the strength to hold him. Saturday hugged the nearest tree trunk before sinking down to the forest floor beside him.
A lump in his skirt squeaked, and Saturday shook the fabric in an effort to free the frightened brownie. The rodent bit her fingertip before disappearing into the wood.
“Ungrateful scamp,” Peregrine called after it, but he had no strength for bluster.
“It’s only a scratch,” said Saturday.
“Shame,” said Peregrine. “Now you cannot tell the world you escaped a dragon unscathed.”
Saturday bowed her head so that the longer strands of her hair occluded her face. “I need to get to the abbey,” she said. “My mother will be waiting for me there.”
“Then we go to the abbey,” said Peregrine. His skin itched mightily. He scratched at his chin. Now that the witch was dead, Leila’s curse seemed to be running its course, slow bit by slow bit.
“Which abbey?” asked Betwixt.
“I . . . I don’t know. From our house it was north and east, on the plains between the mountains and the sea. My aunt is the abbess there.”
“What is your aunt’s name?” asked the pegasus.
“Six,” answered Saturday. “Or, rather, Rose Red.”
“Rose Abbey,” said Betwixt. “I know the place. When we’ve rested, we’ll make our way there.”
Saturday nodded and leaned back against the tree. Betwixt shook out his wings and grazed on a patch of newbirthed grass.
Peregrine lay back on the solid ground, dug his fingers into the soft dirt, and breathed in the sweet, fresh forest air. He knew that living to see the end of this day had consequences. For the moment, he simply wanted to enjoy his freedom.
17
Fate’s Playthings
IT TOOK the trio about a day to get to Rose Abbey. When they tired of walking, Betwixt flew, when he tired of flying, they walked, and when exhaustion overwhelmed them all, they collapsed on the forest floor, slept awhile, awoke, and started again. Betwixt gorged himself on sweet, wet grass and Saturday remembered enough of her skill to bring down a small rabbit with her dagger, but they were still filthy and half starved when they reached their destination.