It took time to solve a puzzle like that, and maybe there was a way to bargain.
“If I open the Gates for you, will you carry us all? And promise our safety after?”
That depends on what you will promise me in return.
“To do my best to open the Gates.”
But I have told you—if you do not open the Gates, they will die. And I will continue to cause you pain.
“No matter how much you hurt me, I will not open the Gates for you. And if they all die, you might as well kill me.”
Oh, very well. And my safety? Where is the dragonstone?
“I don’t know.” True enough, although she hoped it wasn’t true for long.
Can you control your minions?
The idea of either Weston or Zee as minion almost made her laugh, despite the desperate straits they were in. “I don’t seek to control them, and I cannot speak for them. But if you want me to open the Gates of my own voluntary will, then you must carry me there and guarantee their safety.”
You strike a hard bargain. I will not seek to hurt them. Or you. Until the Gates are opened.
“And we will also hold our hands until the Gates are opened.”
“Vivian—”
She silenced Zee with a look. His eyes smoldered in an unminionlike way, but he nodded, keeping the sword unsheathed while she bent over and picked up the Key that lay by the dragon’s great foot. As before, it surprised her with its weight. Only now it felt alive in her hand, as though it were made of pure energy and not just stone.
The energy fed her. She felt her shoulders straighten, felt herself draw a deeper breath. “Another thing,” she said, looking way up and into the huge golden eyes. “I want my pendant.”
I do not wish to give it to you.
“Doesn’t matter. It isn’t yours, and if you’re planning to leave me alive, as you promised, you won’t be needing it and I will.”
She knew full well what she was asking. It meant the dragon was giving up control. No more ability to inflict that mind-numbing pain.
The black dragon shot flame out of her nostrils. Vivian waited. At last the great head bent toward her and the pendant was in reach. Surprised at the steadiness of her own hands, Vivian unfastened the clasp of the chain and hung the pendant around her own neck. When the chain automatically shortened to fit, she didn’t even feel surprise. Her hand closed around the familiar little penguin.
“All right then,” she said. “If you would move your foot so we can retrieve our comrade, we’re ready.”
I will carry him.
It took a minute for Vivian to realize that the dragon meant to carry Weston in her talons. She shook her head. “No. He rides with me.”
He tried to kill me.
“He tried to kill the sister you were pretending to be. Let me have him.”
No.
“Fine.” Vivian dropped the Key. “All of us, or none of us. That’s the bargain.”
A cry of rage, a puff of flame. Great wings clapped together in the air above the dragon’s back.
Vivian stood her ground, one arm shielding her face from the dust storm kicked up by the dragon’s wings. Zee was on his feet beside her now, steadying her with his warm presence, helping her stand braced against the onslaught.
At last the great wings stilled and the dragon quieted.
You may pick up your comrade.
The monstrous foot lifted, and Zee dragged Weston as far away as the limited space allowed. Vivian ran to join him. The old Dreamshifter’s chest barely rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. His skin was hot with fever. When Vivian’s hand touched his forehead his eyes opened, unfocused at first but clearing.
“Spiked me,” he whispered.
Oh no. No, no, no. Tearing away his shirt she found the marks on his shoulder where the talons had pierced his skin.
“What is it, Viv? What’s wrong with him?”
“Dragon venom.”
“It’s all right,” Weston said. His lips twisted into a smile. “Looks like I’m gonna burn one way or another. Funny how it all works out.”
“Shhh,” Vivian murmured, smoothing his forehead. “Don’t try to talk.”
Weston tossed his head side to side, restless with the fever and the pain. “Damned dragon reached right inside my head and picked up on my memories of Grace. Smart enough to age her to look like me . . .”
“How did you know?” Zee asked. “That it wasn’t your sister, I mean?”
“Grace always called me Morgan. She—” His words cut off as his body jerked in a sudden spasm and then went limp.
“Weston, wake up, stay with me!”
But his head lolled on his shoulders and his eyes didn’t open.
“Can’t you do something?” Zee asked.
Vivian shook her head, fighting back the sobs. She’d dragged Weston here, put him through so much heartbreak. This was so wrong, so unjust, that he should die, in the end, for nothing. And she couldn’t even pretend he was going to a better place. Her chest felt so tight she couldn’t catch her breath. Tears traced a cold path down her cheeks as she bent and pressed her lips against his hot forehead. “Say hello to my grandfather. And tell him I’m coming.”
Enough of this wailing, the Black Dragon said. Leave him or bring him, I care not. But if you don’t wish your Warrior to join him, we go now.
Without another word, Vivian picked up Poe, Zee dragged Weston up over his shoulder, and they climbed onto the dragon’s back for the flight to the Black Gates.
Thirty-nine
Sentient stone just wasn’t possible, but Vivian felt the Gates respond to her approach with what felt like watchful consciousness. The Key in her hand began to hum and the Gates responded, producing a chord that ran across her skin in waves of sheer pleasure. Her heart leaped in exultation and the word home chimed in her heart.
Behind her, the thudding steps of approaching giants shook the earth in a regular rhythm. Above, the sun was blocked out by dragons flying in formation. Wind created by their wings buffeted her face and hair. So strange, and yet so familiar.
Maybe she had dreamed this moment or maybe it was truly what it seemed—her destiny. Her body moved without volition, drawn toward the singing Gates by an invisible attraction. Metal to magnet. Moth to flame. It didn’t matter which.
Poe planted himself in front of her at a complete standstill, and she nearly tripped over him. When she tried to sidestep, he moved with her. Zee called her name, but his voice was no more than a faint tug. Even the thought of Weston, burning up from the inside out, held little meaning.
Vivian moved around the penguin and kept walking. The Gates were almost within reach now. A narrow beam of blue light shone through the keyhole—an octagonal shape that was a perfect match for the carved end of the cylindrical Key. It was that light that made her pause. Weston’s face flashed through her mind—night, a campfire, a cup of something bitter.
Dragons fighting over a woman who stood quiet and self-possessed among them, holding a baby in her arms. The wailing of a child. A dragon, black as night with eyes of flame, snuffing out all living things.
Vivian could feel the impatience of the Black Dragon, an irrefutable force, like gravity or light.
Open the Gates.
“Not yet.” Resistance was difficult. Her tongue felt heavy and thick, but she was the Chosen and the Key in her hand gave her power. Besides, she had her pendant back, and whatever spell had been cast over her seemed to be broken. No more crushing pain when she thought her own thoughts.