Page 4 of A Lick of Flame

“I’m going to get lost,” I whisper.

Then again, I recognize the tunnel. I know that I need to go left and then left again when I reach the little side offshoot. Once I have satisfied myself that it’s nothing, I can head back home and put this from my mind once and for all.

I’m breathing hard by the time I reach the fork. It is more difficult going up than it was coming down. My heart is racing. I hope that all the fae made it out and that there aren’t any still lurking in these tunnels.

Kakara, look down on me, please.

Why am I doing this? I shouldn’t be.

Since I am nearly there, I forge on. It’s just up the way. It doesn’t take me long to get to the offshoot tunnel. I turn left and walk the short way down. It’s slightly cooler in this section.

I hold my breath as I get closer, holding out my lantern.

I gasp as it comes into view. I’m closer than I was two days ago when I came down here to relieve myself before Louisa told me to hurry. I caught a glimpse and couldn’t come back, or I would have been left behind. We were running for our lives, after all.

Now, here I am. I’m looking down at it. There is no mistake.

“Not a rock,” I whisper. I had tried to convince myself that what I saw was just a big rock, but it isn’t. There is no way. It’s big and oval and most definitely an egg.

“A dragon’s egg,” I say. It looks leathery and thick-skinned. It has strange overlapping scales that remind me of dragon skin, even though I have never seen dragon skin before.

My heart is going crazy in my chest, and I can hardly catch my breath. I can’t help myself; I reach out and touch it.

I gasp, keeping my hand right where it is, flat against the egg. It’s warm to the touch. So very warm. Not at all what I expected.

I shriek and jump back as the egg cracks open. From between the crack, an orange flame licks toward me.

3

Orion

The creature poises above me. It roars, its hot breath hitting me square in the face. May the gods help me, but I can’t give up. I have to try to save myself, no matter how bad the odds are against me.

I lunge for my sword, but as I do, pain courses through me. It is excruciating. It feels like I’m burning up from the inside out. My brain. My skin. My very bones are on fire.

I can still see the creature above me. It hasn’t so much as touched me. Wyvern worms can’t breathe fire. What is this? It can’t be from the fall. I gasp as my back bows from the sheer agony coursing through me. My eyes are wide in my skull. I can’t shut them. The fiery pain is most evident on my right shoulder and across my back. I have a puckered scar there from a…a… I can’t remember how I got the scar. Man alive, but it is hurting now. I make a guttural noise from deep in my throat. I’m almost longing for the wyvern to end me, but it doesn’t. Instead, it cocks its head, scrutinizing me as I writhe in agony. It’s hell! I’m burning…burning…burning. I can barely breathe.

All of my muscles tighten. There is more pain. My head is pounding. Fire shoots through my veins. I scream but do not make a sound. As quickly as the pain hits, it subsides. I fall back down, breathing hard. I feel sweat drip down my brow.

There is a loud ringing in my ears that turns into a maddening thumping. It is my own heart pounding loudly. Something thrums through my veins. Something more than blood. I know what it is…but how?

The stadium is silent; everyone is waiting for the death blow. The wyvern doesn’t disappoint and goes for the strike.

“No!” My voice is clear and commanding. “Don’t!” I add.

The creature stops. Its eyes narrow on mine. It’s so close that I can make out the different colors of green mottling its scales.

“We are not enemies,” I tell the beast, keeping my voice low.

For the first time since entering the arena, the wyvern worm stops moving. Its tail stops its thrashing. Its great body stops its restless coiling and uncoiling. I see understanding in its eyes as it pulls back, no longer on the attack.

I am reeling. What in Hades’ name is going on? I know the answer, but it doesn’t make any kind of sense. I’m a mercenary, just like my father and his father…only I’m not. I look down at my chest, touching the mark on my shoulder.

“He has pointed ears,” someone from the audience shouts.

I touch my hand against the side of my head, knowing that it’s true. I am a fae. Moreover, I’m a beastfae. How could I have forgotten something so important? What sorcery is this?

“Yes! He looks like a fae,” someone else shouts. “Like one of us.”

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