Page 21 of Beneath His Wings
Even as he glowered, a tiny thrill of pride shot up his heart at that. He knew Ruan was brave—brave to the point of foolishness, clearly—but the thought that his human would stare down a dragon without flinching made him feel... something.
But he couldn’t consider that now. He had only seconds to decide on his plan of action. If burning them all to the ground was no longer an option, he would do the next best thing.
“Come on, then!” Ruan goaded him, shoving the cowering human away with one hand as he took another step toward Zamnes. “I’ve always wanted to kill a dragon.”
Zamnes could not stop the grin from splitting his features—though he was sure that to Ruan, it was a hideous display of every one of his razor-sharp teeth.
“You will never kill a dragon,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to reverberate through the earth rather than the air. The first flash of true fear crossed Ruan’s face as he spoke—the knowledge that dragonscouldspeak was rumored at best amongst mortals.
He knew what he would do. Zamnes lunged at him then—Ruan’s sword went up to block his open maw, but it was his claws that reached for the human. Effortlessly he had the human in his grasp, ignoring Ruan’s startled shout. He flapped his wings, hard enough to send the pathetic guard flying to the ground, and flew to the edge of the cliff, where he tucked his wings in and let gravity do the rest.
He was careful not to draw blood with his claws, so he knew that Ruan’s screaming was not out of pain, but the primal fear any flightless creature had of falling. But he had made the exact same drop so many times before that he knew exactly when to extend his wings, halting their descent, and when to surge toward the cliff face.
Ruan must have seen how near the cliffside they had gotten, but not the narrow opening to his lair.
“Let me go!” he roared, squirming frantically in Zamnes’ arms. “Let me go, you son of a bitch, let me go!”
He felt Ruan’s body tense as they went right up to the cliff face; but at the last second he twisted his body to fit through the narrow gap, then pressed Ruan closer to his scaled chest and used his other three limbs to scuffle through the rest of the tunnel, until it opened to the flight chamber of his lair. Only then did he drop Ruan, moving past him to block his view into the rest of the lair and looking back at him with a snarl.
To his credit, Ruan scrambled to his feet quickly, looking around despite the meager light that streamed in from the narrow tunnel and trying to ascertain his surroundings. His sword was still in his hand, but it trembled now.
Zamnes could see himself in the reflection of his sword as Ruan lifted it in fearful determination—a hulking black serpentine shape with icy blue eyes, like bursts of lightning through the sky.
Zamnes rose up to his full height, spreading his wings in a show of dominance. He lumbered closer until Ruan trembled beneath the shadow of his wings—full of terror and fight in equal measure.
“Stop this,” he growled, the thunderous bass of his voice filling the chamber. Ruan flinched as he spoke, but kept his eyes stubbornly on Zamnes’s claws. He was a quick learner, at least. “Stop this now, Ruan!”
The sound of his name from the dragon’s mouth made Ruan nearly jump in shock. Confusion spread across his face, his gaze finally lifting to look Zamnes in the eyes—and that was when he snapped his tail around to smack the sword out of his hands. The human shouted as the weapon flew out of his grasp, across the chamber, and clattered to the stone floor.
“How?” he panted, scowling up at the dragon. “How do you know my name?”
He knew that he would not be able to trick Ruan; he could only buy himself mere minutes, so there was no point in playing with him. He sighed, closing his eyes and lowered himself until he was standing on all fours with his head only a few feet above Ruan’s eyeline.
“You know my name,” he said, and this time his voice came out as a hiss, a whisper.
“Of course I do,” Ruan spat. “Zamnes, Scourge of Polimnos. Every child in Polimnos grows up hearing your name. Even orphans.”
“But you know me by another,” he said, watching Ruan’s face flicker with confusion once more.
This was it. Whatever hope he had clung to that his identity would remain secret for as long as he lived in Polimnos was dashed now. He closed his eyes and let his magic condense around him, containing him into the body of Adrissu.
“No,” Ruan gaped, stumbling back the moment the glow of transmutation had faded from his body. “No, this is—this is a trick.”
“It is no trick,” Adrissu said softly, taking a step toward him; but Ruan backed away, shaking his head. He looked more afraid now than he had when staring down the dragon. “Ruan. It’s me.”
“You lie!” he shouted, still staggering back and lifting his arms in a defensive stance, as if he might strike him with his hands. “This draconic magic is—I don’t know how you’re doing this, but you’re not real. You can’t be, you can’t be real!”
“I am. And I can prove it,” Adrissu countered, continuing to walk toward him at a slow, even pace. “Because no one other than us knows what we did yesterday.”
Ruan froze, his lips trembling. He shook his head, but evidently could no longer form the words.
“And you—” Adrissu paused, remembering with a bitter, stifled laugh the simple words of praise that had finally made Ruan melt against him. “You did so well. You were so good.”
“No,” Ruan rasped, and Adrissu could see his eyes glistening with tears. “No, you can’t. You can’t be.”
“Ruan—” Adrissu started, but Ruan’s eyes flickered past him for the first time and widened in shock again.
In the beat of silence Adrissu could hear the slithering sound of Vesper sliding along the stone ground. He sighed and turned to watch her coming up to them: her attention fixed on Ruan. They had always gotten along; he had been fond of the snake from the first time they met.
