Hero

The wall beyond was a different story. Peregrine pushed the larger remnants of the pillarstones out of the way while Saturday kicked the wall with her booted foot. Peregrine would have warned her about the futility of such a gesture, but this wall proved surprisingly thin. The fissure widened and the wall began to give way. They made short work of the hole, stopping as soon as it was large enough for them to squeeze through.

Saturday barreled ahead, but Peregrine had experienced too many close calls to venture forth into parts unknown without a light. A brownie with a notched ear jumped atop his lantern’s lid as Peregrine pulled it awkwardly through the fissure.

“Peregrine, there are stars here!” Saturday called out to him. “Hurry up and see!”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he extracted arm, lantern, and brownie from the fissure. He enjoyed hearing her say his name without malice.

She met him on the other side. The brownie launched itself off the lantern and scurried off to rejoin his pack.

“No, no, douse the light,” said Saturday. She pulled at his skirt, wrapping the material around the iron cage. “Look.”

Above them twinkled thousands of bright golden lights, glittering metals shining their hearts out. But these specks were not reflecting light; they were emitting it.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a sky like this,” said Saturday. “Can you?”

He avoided the question. “It’s wonderful,” he said, and it was the truth. Peregrine gently lifted Saturday’s hand away and removed his skirt from around the lantern. He held the light high, revealing a large and complex calcite formation glistening white as the driven snow.

“Do you recognize this cave?” Saturday asked him.

“Yes.” Peregrine lowered his voice, out of reverence more than necessity.

“You have names for everything.” Saturday pointed at the massive rock formation. “So what do you call that?”

“The dragon,” answered Peregrine.

Saturday examined the formation more closely, trying to make head and tail of it. It was a little difficult to picture at first glance. Most artists’ renditions showed dragons rearing back while attacking, or in mid-fire-breathing flight, not curled up in peaceful rest. Saturday’s mind began to unravel the sculpture. “Oh,” she said. And then, “Oh.” And then after another longer pause, “Really?”

“Really,” said Peregrine. “Saturday Woodcutter, please allow me to introduce you to the dragon.”

“I’m at a bit of a loss. What does one say when one meets one’s death?” Saturday bowed politely to the dragon. “Enchanted.”

“Very much so,” said Peregrine. “Unlike my father’s plight, the spell on the dragon is a sleeping death. This mountain has been his tomb.”

“A prisoner, like us.” Saturday stepped forward. “May I touch it?” She had already stretched her arm out, but her hand hovered over the glowing stone. “Do we have time?”

“The ceiling of the witch’s lair caved in,” he told her. “It happened right before you arrived. We are currently on the other side of it. It will take the witch a very long while to find us here. Watch your step.” Just as white rock had dripped and crept over the dragon’s body, so too had it grown over the bones of the dragon’s victims.

Saturday lifted a boot and walked precariously through the sea of dead, trailing her fingers along the dragon’s contours. Thankfully, whatever godstuff slept within her remained dormant, as did the dragon. Peregrine let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He watched her pat the dragon’s beak, and what was either a short horn or a pillarstone the cave had grown atop the dragon’s skull.

“I should stay here,” said Peregrine. “Perhaps I can kill the dragon before it fully wakes. You and Betwixt might have a chance then.”

“No,” Saturday said flatly. “If anyone stays on this mountain, it will be me. I will leave no one behind. That’s final.”

Peregrine hoped the spirits of the warriors on whose bones he stood could see the headstrong young woman who walked that last footstep that they could not. “Where have you been all my life?” he asked.

“Cutting down trees,” she said. “Now come on. Cave-in or no, I mean to find the witch before she finds me. And I am not leaving here without my sword.” Saturday paused and turned away from the dragon. “Wait, a real cave-in? You mean, where the ceiling collapses and there’s a giant gaping hole to the outside world?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Peregrine.

Saturday jumped; stone skulls shattered beneath her boots. “Then that’s our way off the mountain!” She grabbed him by the cheeks and kissed him heartily.

His pleasure at her vigor was tempered as he realized the flaw in this plan. Like she, he hoped they would survive, against all odds, so that they might experience the rest of their lives together. But if they did survive, he still had a promise to keep. To Elodie.

Damn the gods and their sense of humor.

Peregrine sighed and reluctantly led Saturday into the caves of the witch’s lair. It was a short distance from the dragon’s chamber, under a small archway and through a tu

Saturday, flushed with energy, gave no indication that the chill affected her. She slowly crawled up the enormous pile of rubble, all the while staring at the sky. “I wasn’t sure when I would ever see daylight again,” she whispered.

Peregrine found purchase on a nearby boulder and climbed to the top to see the sky for himself. Rife with deadly frost or not, there was nothing like fresh air after breathing in a cave. “I hate to disappoint you, but that’s not daylight,” he said.

“It’s too bright to be starlight,” said Saturday. “What, then? Dusk? Dawn?”

Peregrine motioned for her to join him at the top of the boulder. “In the far north, especially during the White Months, the skies fill with ice clouds shot through with color. We call them the Northern Lights.”

“I see that now . . . look at all the colors! It’s like a strange rainbow.” Her raised chin revealed the graceful lines of her neck and the cords of muscles that ran down into her broad shoulders. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Peregrine might have said the same thing to her. But he didn’t. Nor did he take her hand again, despite the nagging, incessant need to do so. It was enough for him to sit beside her, shoulder to shoulder, and share the moment.

Like most moments, it didn’t last long.

In a blue flash, the giant fallen pillars and rubble blocking the old entrance glowed brightly before dissolving into ash. A flame-yellow Cwyn flew through the newly opened space and circled over Saturday’s head, presumably speaking to her the same way Betwixt spoke while in fully animalian aspects.

“Don’t apologize,” Saturday told the bird. “She was going to find me eventually.” Saturday brought her gaze back to the hole in the ceiling. “I need wings.”

“And a thicker skin,” said Peregrine. Slowly he stood up, reluctant to go. “I must leave. It will only be worse for you if she discovers me here.” He rolled off the boulder with practiced grace and landed on the opposite side of the pile, near the entrance to the witch’s bedchambers.

Saturday leaned down to him. “I’ll try to keep her distracted as long as I can. Find my sword. Please.”

Peregrine curtseyed. He would have given her his heart had she not already possessed it. “As you wish.” The raven descended and beat her wings in his face to hurry him along.

“JACK WOODCUTTER!” he heard the lorelei shriek. Cwyn disappeared; she did not want her mistress seeing what should not be seen.

Needing no further prompting, Peregrine crept stealthily back to the far wall, disappearing down a tu