Rhapsody followed the tunnel slowly, listening for movement. A moment later she could hear it, the splash of something moving through the water in the depths of the cave, followed by the pounding of taloned feet as they trod the rock floor. There was a sound of steel grinding against stone, and the cave filled with the hot wind of the dragon’s breath, tainted with the acrid smells that Rhapsody had only encountered before at a smithy, or Achmed’s forges, odors that issued forth from smelting fires.
The tunnel twisted as she followed it, opening at the bottom into a large cavern below. The darkness of the cavern was impenetrable, so Rhapsody touched the stick she carried and ignited the end of it, hoping a torch would illuminate the place. It roared to life almost immediately; the leaping flames cast elongated shadows down the tunnel, outlining and exaggerating the movements of the great beast as it pulled itself from the waters that filled the cave floor. The ground trembled with its every step, and the flickering light of the torch danced off the copper scales, gleaming like a million tiny shields of burnished bronze in the darkness.
Elynsynos was immense. In the half-light Rhapsody estimated she was almost one hundred feet long, easily able to fill the entire length of the tunnel she had just traversed. The strength denoted by the enormous musculature was enough to drain the color from the Singer’s face.
Then she saw the eyes of the beast, too late to heed Ashe’s warning. They appeared in the tunnel like two gigantic lanterns that had suddenly been un-hooded. The great orbs shone with prismatic light; they were so intensely beautiful that Rhapsody felt she could easily pass her life there, gazing into them. Long vertical slits bisected each silver iris, rimmed in shimmering rainbow colors. At once Rhapsody felt the fires of her soul leap, as if fed with a sudden breath of air. For a moment she was dizzy, lost inside herself, but the feeling passed in a moment, and she dragged her gaze away from the beast, her soul screaming in protest.
“Pretty,” Elynsynos said. There was a power in the word Rhapsody recognized immediately. Elynsynos was speaking with an elemental music, and the word she had spoken was not a description, but a name. The harmonic sound came not from a voice box—little as she knew of dragon lore, one thing that Rhapsody did know was that wyrms did not have a natural larynx—but from the masterful manipulation of the vibrations of the wind. Rhapsody was tempted to look once more directly at her but did not, watching her only through the corner of her eye.
“Why do you come, Pretty?” There was wisdom in the voice that belied the childlike tone and words.
Rhapsody took a deep breath and turned a little farther away. “Many reasons,” she answered, looking at the serpentine shadow on the cave wall before her. “I have dreamt of you. I have come to return something that is yours, and to sing to you, if you will let me.” She could see the shadow move as the head of the dragon came to rest on the ground directly behind her, and she felt its hot breath on her back. The fire inside her drank in the heat and the power it held. The moisture from her clothing evaporated, leaving the fabric hot and on the verge of igniting.
“Turn around, please,” said the multitone voice. Rhapsody closed her eyes and complied, feeling the waves of warmth on her face as though she was turning blindly toward the sun. “Are you afraid?”
“A little,” Rhapsody answered, still not opening her eyes.
“Why?”
“We fear what we do not know, and do not understand. I hope to remedy both those situations, and then I will not be afraid.”
Once again, as before she entered the cave, she heard what sounded like whispered voices. “You are wise to be afraid,” said Elynsynos. There was no menace in her tone, but its depth was intimidating. “You are perfect treasure, Pretty. Your hair is like spun gold, your eyes are emeralds. Even your skin is like fine porcelain, and you are untouched. There is music in you, and fire, and time. Any dragon would covet you to have for its own.”
“I belong only to myself,” Rhapsody said. The dragon chuckled. “But I came here in the hope that we could be friends. Then I am yours willingly, in a way. A friend is one of the greatest kinds of treasures, isn’t it?” She glanced quickly at the dragon, then looked away.
The dragon’s enormous face took on a look of curiosity that was oddly endearing, visible even in the glimpse Rhapsody caught out of the corner of her eye.
“I do not know. I do not have any friends.”
“Then I will be a new kind of treasure for you, if you want me to be,” said Rhapsody, her fear beginning to abate. “First, let me return this to you.” She dug in her pack and pulled out the dragon’s claw dagger.
The enormous prismatic eyes blinked. Rhapsody was still not looking at her directly, but could feel the light in the cave dim for a second. Her skin prickled as an electric hum began around her, buzzing in the cavern like a great hive of bees. She saw the shadow on the wall shift, and a huge claw reached over her head and gingerly took the dagger in between nails that resembled it exactly. Then the claw returned to its place behind her once more. Rhapsody let her breath out.
“Where did you get this?”
“In the depths of Gwylliam’s lair,” said Rhapsody, trying to couch her words in imagery the dragon would appreciate. “It was hidden deep, but when we found it we knew it should be returned to you.”
“Gwylliam was a bad man,” said the harmonious voice. It was without rancor; Rhapsody was grateful. She did not want to be within the lair of a dragon who was incensed. “He hit Anwyn, and he killed so many of the Cymrians. This claw was given to her, and he kept it for spite. Thank you for bringing it back, Pretty.”
“You’re welcome, Elynsynos. I’m sorry about what happened to Anwyn.”
The humming sound grew louder. Rhapsody felt the heat in the air around her rise. “Anwyn is bad as well, as bad as Gwylliam. She destroyed her own hoard. That is something a dragon must never do. I am ashamed she is my hatchling. She is no child of mine. A dragon defends its treasure with everything it has. Anwyn destroyed her own hoard.”
“Her hoard? What hoard?”
“Look at me, Pretty. I will not try to take you.” The multitone voice was warm and sweet. “If you are my friend, you should trust me, yes?”
Rhapsody, don’t look into her eyes.
Rhapsody turned around slowly, staring at the ground. She could feel the glimmering scales reflecting the light from her torch; it undulated in wavelike patterns over her linen shirt, turning the white fabric into a translucent rainbow. The warmth of the voice had captured her heart, even though her brain continued to function for the moment, telling her to be wary of the gigantic serpent. The trickery of dragons was well known, and Ashe’s warning was still ringing in her ears.
Rhapsody, don’t look into her eyes.
“Her hoard was the Cymrian people,” said Elynsynos. “They were magic; they had crossed the Earth and made time to stop for themselves by doing so. In them all the elements found a manifestation, even if they did not know how to use it. There were some of races that had never been seen in these parts, Gwadd and Liringlas and Gwenen and Nain, Ancient Seren and Dhracians and Mythlin, a human garden full of many different and beautiful kinds of flowers. They were special, pretty, unique people that deserved to be cherished and kept safe. And she turned against them and destroyed many of them, so that Gwylliam could not have them. Ashamed I am.”
Rhapsody felt mist on her face; she looked down and found she was standing in glimmering liquid. She raised her eyes without thinking and found herself staring, entranced, at the great beast. Elynsynos was weeping.
Rhapsody felt her heart break; at that moment she would have gladly given everything she had to comfort the dragon, to ease her pain and wash away her sadness. In the back of her mind she wondered if her deep feelings for the wyrm were a result of enchantment or if, as her heart told her, she just loved her because she was so rare and beautiful. She stepped toward Elynsynos and touched her massive claw tenderly.