Page 35 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
We both look in Fragor’s direction, who perches on one of the high peaks. He seems to be looking down at us, but it’s hard to be sure.
I shake my head. “He blocks me out, but he must’ve forgotten that day.”
Vaylen rises to his feet, straightening his back. He turns toward Fragor’s perch, head tilted, his face going still in that way it does when he’s communicating with him. The lines between his brows deepen as he stares upward.
I follow his gaze, watching Fragor’s massive form silhouetted against the pale morning sky. Wind ruffles his silver scales, catching the light. He looks regal and untouchable up there.
After a long minute, Vaylen turns back to me. “Try to speakwith him now. I tried to convey the message that he should reply.”
—Don’t,Zephyros growls in my mind.That snake-tongued lizard can’t be trusted. His words are poison wrapped in gold leaf.
I glance between my dragon and Vaylen’s. The tension between them crackles like lightning waiting to strike.
I ignore Zephyros, then close my eyes. I’ve never tried to reach beyond my bond with my dragon, but I picture Fragor in my mind—his twisting horns, his proud bearing—and tentatively push my thoughts outward.
—Fragor? Can you hear me?
Nothing. No response, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. It’s like shouting into an empty cavern. I push harder, focusing my mind more intensely.
—I know you can hear me. Why shut me out?
Still nothing. Fragor shifts on his perch, wings rustling slightly, but his gaze seems to slide past me toward the horizon, deliberately indifferent.
Frustration bubbles through me. I narrow my eyes, sending my next thought with sharper focus.
—Tell me what happened between you and Zephyros.
Nothing.
—Then tell me what you know about Weavers. Zephyros said our powers were used to pass down knowledge, that much has been lost since they hunted us down. That means Weavers aren’t bad, right?
The wind picks up, swirling around us. For a heartbeat, I sense something—a brush against my consciousness, like fingers trailing across still water—before it vanishes.
—Coward,I spit mentally.You act so superior, but you’re afraid of me, aren’t you? Afraid of what I might learn. Or maybe you’re just embarrassed?
Fragor’s massive head swivels suddenly, his eyes holding mine. A ripple of power washes over me, ancient and vast.
—It is not what you think that silences me, Weaver,his voice hisses in my mind.It is mercy. You are too small to withstand the weight of your kind.
Then he’s gone, mental walls slamming back into place, leaving me gasping with the force of his withdrawal. I stagger. Vaylen’s hand shoots out, steadying me before I can fall.
“What happened?” His voice is hushed, patient. He waits until my breathing calms before pressing further.
I relay Fragor’s cryptic message, the words still echoing in my mind like thunder after lightning.
“Mercy?” Vaylen asks out loud, then glances at Fragor, who seems as closed off to Vaylen as he is to me.
I shrug. “Dragon’s thoughts can be too vast and overwhelming to humans. I imagine that’s what he means. “I asked him about Weavers. Zephyros says we were used for good before.”
His eyebrows go up. “I have wondered if paranoid cowards like King Craven decided to get rid of your kind.”
“Definitely seems like a possibility.”
“There’s so much we don’t understand.” He shakes his head, frustration evident in the tightness around his eyes. “I don’t like being in the dark like this.”
“Welcome to my entire life,” I mutter.
The morning sun catches the gold flecks in his eyes as he studies my face. “I never questioned why Weavers were outlawed. I accepted it as fact, like everyone else. It happened so long ago.” His voice drops lower. “But now that I know you, I want to understand everything there is to understand. Though I don’t know how we can find out anything without attracting suspicion.”
