Blood And Fire

Chapter 61-Pyronius Help Me

CHAPTER 61

     The queen dragon looks on uneasily with her luminescent, indigo eyes as the last of Highland Den's winged warriors take to the skies.  Her and Lyra had already wished Valkyr and Bjorgon a safe return minutes before and could barely make out the lead dragon of the command wing in the fluttering snows of the evening as they fly south to Port of Frios.

     Skyhalla turns her intent gaze upon Lyra, whom is still watching the departing dragons with her own forlorn longing.

     They will return to us, Lyra.  Bjorgon is the strongest and sharpest of Highland.  Besides, he will want to see how many eggs I lay to boast of his fertility.

     With a tear in her eye, Lyra turns to Skyhalla and forces a smile at her life partner's infallible reasoning.

     "You always did have a way with words," Lyra replies with a hint of a laugh and gently touches Skyhalla's lowered face.

     Malthor is there, too.  Dragonless, but still one of the most important figures of Highland Den, the distinguished man places a reassuring hand upon Lyra's shoulder while still staring into the night, as the last of the squadrons fade into blackness.

     "Come, Lyra.  I'll make you a nice hot cup of tea," Malthor invites, averting his attention from the now empty skies to the troubled, young redhead before him.

     Lyra hazards one last glimpse of the winter night, downcasts her eyes, and allows the senior councilman to steer her away from the cold of the hangar's cavernous mouth, toward the warmer section of the keep.

     Skyhalla sidles alongside the slow moving humans, keeping her creamy, white head hung at their level.  The trio saunter through the archway of the corridor leading to the dragon keep where a fork appears: the left passage large enough for the Queen to traverse, the right being the people-sized stone steps leading to the Great Hall and the rest of Highland Den.

      Lyra regards Malthor and says, "I'll be right up.  I just want to see Skyhalla to her lair.  Give me a few minutes?"

     Malthor smiles, nods, and releases his hand from Lyra's shoulder.  Then, turning his attention to the Queen, he says, "Hang in there, your majesty.  Valkyr and Bjorgon can handle anything the vampires throw at them."

     He then turns abruptly and ascends the steps, leaving Skyhalla and Lyra to themselves.

     As the echoes of Malthor's steps become more distant, the queen and her rider continue down the large corridor to Skyhalla's chamber.

     The two move in silence.  Their thoughts are shared, but preoccupied with the same worrisome ideas.  Finally, as they reach the very last room at the end of the keep, Skyhalla ducks her head slightly and she passes into her room.

     The lair is dark and cool.  Lyra hugs herself and her body trembles slightly in the chill air.  Sensing her rider's physical discomfort, Skyhalla extends her elegant neck toward the large hearth in the recess of the far wall.  A yellowish-orange jet of fire escapes the Queen's mandibles, covering the logs and kindling within the fireplace.  Soon, the fuel combusts and the conflagration no longer requires the dragon's breathe to sustain it.

     "Thank you," Lyra says, now extending her palms toward the warmth.

     Nothing like a warm fire on a snowy night.  Now, if only I had Bjorgon here to share it with....

     "Please, Skyhalla, could we talk about something else?  I'm a nervous wreck as it is.  I don't want to think about...well, you know," Lyra scolds.

     Sorry, Lyra.  I know I would rather be out there fighting alongside them than stuck in here fretting over what might happen.......

     "You're the last and only Queen dragon of all of Draconos, Skyhalla.  You remember the other day?  Somebody here is a spy for the vampires and as much as that sickens me, it would be foolhardy of us to venture outside," Lyra says, sounding much like she is only reciting everyone else's words.

     Who do you think it is, Lyra?  Who could do such a thing?

     Lyra takes a step closer to the fire, gazing intently into the mesmerizing undulation of the flames.  As the burning vapor licks and sways, its reflection is caught in the dragon woman's eyes, adding to her look of fierce resolve.

     "I don't know, but if I were to get my hands on them...Pyronius help me..." Lyra seethes, standing taught with clenched fists.