Page 118 of Taste of Thorns
“What else can he do?”
Briony bites at her lip.
“Erm, he can fly.”
“Cool, cool,” Dray says, nodding his head rapidly. “Can you ride him?”
Briony looks at the dragon, who’s rubbing its head against her body, then back at us.
“No.”
Dray looks at me with slumped shoulders. “I don’t get what’s so great about him. Wolves seem way more versatile if you ask me.”
The dragon growls a second time, before blasting a fireball – about ten times bigger than Dray’s – right out the front of the cave. It hits a tree, the thing exploding into flame.
I’m assuming that means it can understand us.
“Are you kidding?” I say. “It’s a dragon, Dray. They are the ultimate war machines. The shadow weaver warriors of old used to ride them. If there were more of them, we’d be able to rid the realm of the threat from demons once and for all.”
“If they’re so fucking great, why’d they die out?”
“Wasn’t it dragon pox or something?” Briony says.
“Yes, it wiped out the entire population,” I say.
“Dragon pox,” Dray sniffs, “I had that as a kid. Barely left a scratch on me.”
I come to stand alongside Briony and reach out to stroke the dragon’s back as she is doing. His scales are surprisingly warm and smooth. It’s not just its size that betrays its young age. I remember poring over books as a kid, transfixed by the illustrations of old war dragons, their scales rough and scarred from battle.
“They said there was a unique bond between the old war dragons and their warriors. They said it was the dragon that chose its rider. And it called you.” I glide my hand right alongthe dragon’s back, towards its long forked tail. “Have you tried riding it?” I ask Briony.
“Isn’t he a little young for that? I wouldn’t want to hurt him.”
“Yeah, and he could throw you off,” Dray mutters, still sulking.
“Briony, it’s bigger than a horse, and strong,” I add, feeling the compact muscle of the dragon beneath his scales. “What do you say, Boy? Would you let her ride you?”
The dragon throws back his head and snorts.
“I think that’s a yes,” I say.
“Beaufort, don’t be–” she says, then squeals as I take her by the waist and lift her up onto the dragon’s back.
She attempts to swing her leg back over, most probably in the hope she can slide right off, but the dragon is already striding toward the cave entrance and she’s forced to cling onto his scales.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Dray says, as the dragon spreads its wings and I watch as he flaps the things, his feet rising from the ground, Briony straddling his back. “She could fall and break her neck!”
“Trust me,” I say, “she won’t.”
“You’ve been reading too many kids’ books, Beau.” Dray steps forward and cups his hands around his mouth. “Okay, that’s enough little fellow, you can bring her back down now.”
But the dragon ignores that command completely. He flaps his sinewy wings, the sound like claps of thunder, and soon he’s above the tree line and soaring off towards the peaks of the Highlands.
Chapter Forty-One
Briony
I cling on to Blaze’s scales with all my might, my eyes screwed shut tightly and my stomach swooping as he sails left then right, then dive-bombs. I scream, the air rushing over my face, whipping back my hair and making my eyes run with tears.
