Chapter 2 - THE DESCENT INTO THE ABYSS
The snap of breaking hemp sounded like a gunshot echoing off the frozen canyon walls. Dileia’s body reacted before her conscious mind could process the physics of the fall. She lunged forward, ignoring the shrieking pain in her torn shoulder muscles, and threw her entire torso across the remaining slack of the primary harness.
Her boots lost traction entirely. For one terrifying second, she was airborne, suspended over an abyss of black nothingness, the freezing wind howling up from the depths like a hungry beast.
With a desperate, guttural cry, she slammed her elbows into the frozen ruts of the road, digging her fingers into a crevice of solid granite just inches from the sheer drop. The jolt nearly dislocated both her shoulders. Her breath rushed out of her lungs in a sharp wheeze.
Above her, the sled hung at an impossible forty-five-degree angle, suspended over the void only because Kestrel’s massive, heavy tail had caught in the tangled roots of an ancient, stubborn pine tree jutting horizontally from the cliff face.
Clang.
The sound was metallic and deep. Dileia looked up through the stinging snow.
Kestrel’s golden eyes were wide open now, burning with conscious fury and sudden lucidity. The fog of pain had cleared from his gaze, replaced by the razor-sharp intelligence of an apex predator realizing it was trapped in a humiliating cage. He didn't panic. Dragons did not panic; they calculated.
He didn't roar. He simply shifted his immense weight with a microscopic adjustment of his spine, sliding his center of gravity away from the precipice and back toward the safety of the cliff wall.
“Hold… fast,” Kestrel rumbled, his voice vibrating through the frozen ground and straight into Dileia’s chest.
Before she could answer, the emperor flexed his uninjured wing. With a single, powerful sweep of pinions that kicked up a blinding blizzard of ice crystals, he pushed against the air and the rock simultaneously. The massive sled lurched upward, sliding back onto the flat cart road with a thunderous crash that splintered the remaining wooden guard rails.
Dileia collapsed backward onto the snow, gasping for air, her chest heaving as she stared up at the starlit sky breaking through the ragged edges of the storm. Her hands were dripping with blood, her coat ruined, her body utterly spent.
Kestrel lowered his massive, horned head until his snout rested only inches from her face. The air coming from his nostrils was hot, smelling faintly of ozone, old copper, and scorched earth—a sharp, intoxicating contrast to the freezing mountain air.
“You saved my life,” the emperor said, his tone flat, devoid of royal pretense, yet carrying an immense, crushing weight of ancient authority.
Dileia wiped snow from her eyes and glared up at him, too exhausted to be terrified. “Well, if you plan on dying, you picked a terrible road to do it on. My father’s sled is ruined.”
A low, rumbling sound began deep within Kestrel’s throat. It took Dileia a few seconds to realize the Dragon Emperor was actually laughing—a dry, gravelly sound like rocks sliding down a subterranean incline.
“Your father’s sled,” Kestrel repeated, his golden slit pupils narrowing as he studied her closely. “You dragged an imperial dragon across three miles of frozen switchbacks on a child’s firewood hauler?”
“It wasn't a child's hauler,” she snapped, struggling to sit up and clutching her bruised ribs. “It’s seasoned ash wood with iron-reinforced runners. Or at least, it was before you landed on it like a falling mountain.”
Kestrel shifted his weight, wincing slightly as his shoulder wound flared with fresh pain. The heavy wool blankets Dileia had tied around it were already soaked through with dark, steaming blood. The frost was trying to creep back into his scales, stiffening his joints.
“If we stay here,” Kestrel said, glancing up at the swirling peaks where the telltale orange flare of signal fires was beginning to wink through the snow, “my pursuers will find us before dawn. And when they do, they will kill everyone in your village to ensure my death remains a secret.”
Dileia froze. The anger drained out of her, replaced by a cold, heavy dread. “Fenwick was right, then. You brought an army to our doorstep.”
“I brought assassins,” Kestrel corrected quietly, his gaze hardening into something lethal. “Traitors from the High Council who believed the dragon throne was vacant. They used poisoned iron to pierce my armor because they knew steel could not scratch me.”
He tried to rise, but his front left leg buckled beneath him. The poison coated on the crossbow bolt was still active in his bloodstream, dulling his nervous system and turning his massive muscles to lead. He let out a low hiss of frustration, his claws gouging deep trenches into the frozen mud.
“I can’t walk,” Kestrel muttered, realization dawning with bitter humiliation. “And your sled is broken.”
Dileia looked from the shattered wooden frame of the sled to the bleeding, monumental creature lying helpless in the snow. She looked down the winding, steep path that led toward the secluded lower valley where her small, warm cabin stood hidden behind a wall of ancient pines.
She stood up, swaying slightly on her feet, and grabbed the remaining unbroken length of hemp rope.
“Who said anything about walking?” Dileia tied the rope securely around one of his massive front talons, looping the other end over her bleeding shoulder. “Can you drag yourself if I guide your head?”
Kestrel stared at her, genuine astonishment flickering across his ancient, reptilian features. For three centuries, kings had bowed to him, generals had trembled before him, and enemies had plotted his destruction in the shadows. No one had ever looked at him as a project to be finished, a burden to be shared, or an equal to be hauled home through a blizzard.
“You are remarkably stubborn, human,” Kestrel whispered.
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“It’s a village trait,” Dileia replied, her jaw set with fierce determination. “Now get up, Your Majesty. We have a long way to go before sunrise, and my hands are freezing.”
The Dragon Emperor exhaled a long cloud of warm, golden steam, unfurled his massive uninjured wing to shield her from the biting wind, and began to crawl.
