Muse (Tales of Silver Downs Book 1) (26 page)

"If you were watching, then you know we didn't take anything," Diarmuid said. "We were looking for a way out of the tunnels. Nothing more. And we saw the door just before you arrived. In another few moments, we would have been gone."

"Aah, you saw the door, did you," the dragon said. "And how did you plan to unlock it?"

"There's a key," Diarmuid said. "We thought it was in here somewhere."

"So you did intend to steal from my treasure." The dragon's voice rose triumphantly. "I knew it. No human has ever entered my home without the intent of theft."

"We are here by the design of the fey," Diarmuid said. "The tunnels in this place twist and turn, leading wherever the fey want us to go. If we have been brought here by their design, and we face a locked door, surely they intend us to locate its key."

"The intent of the fey is no concern of mine," the dragon said. "It matters not what excuse you give for your presence. You have already admitted to entering my home for the purpose of stealing from me."
 

Diarmuid's face had the distant look that indicated he was mentally riffling through all the tales he knew. He stood up straight and looked the dragon in the eye. I admired his bravery, even as I trembled with fear.

"Then what solution do you propose?" he asked. "How do you intend to ascertain our guilt?"

"I already know your guilt," the dragon said. "I have no need for further proof."

"We are entitled to be offered a task," Diarmuid said. "Satisfaction of which would earn us our freedom."

The dragon eyed him and the amused glint turned dangerous. "You fancy yourself a druid, little human," it said. "Or a bard perhaps." The dragon's tone made it clear what it thought of either profession.

"I am a bard. And not only that, but I am the seventh son of a seventh son."

The dragon's face twitched. "And that holds some significance for you, it seems."

"It means I am destined to be a bard. In my family, the seventh son of a seventh son is always a bard."

"And be you a good bard?" the dragon asked.

Diarmuid hesitated and I held my breath, willing him to tell the truth.

"No," he said finally. "My tales do not resonate with my listeners."

"And who do you blame for that, little bard? Yourself or the parents who cursed you to be bard by giving life to the seventh son of a seventh son?"

"The fault is none but my own. I might be a good bard one day, but I have much to learn yet."

The dragon looked Diarmuid up and down and when it spoke next, the sneer was gone from its voice.

"So, little bard, you snuck into my home with the aim of thievery. How do you intend to repay your debt?"

"Since we didn't steal anything, it seems to me we haven't incurred any debt," Diarmuid said.

His words made me quake for they sounded like a challenge. Indeed, the dragon seemed to draw itself up higher. Its gaze swept from Diarmuid to the rest of us.
 

"And what say you, friends of the little bard?"
 

Its eyes bored into us each in turn. Me it lingered on and I felt horribly exposed. Could the dragon's gaze pierce this form I wore?
 

"Well?" it prompted.
 

Owain and Rhiwallon glanced at each other and it was Rhiwallon who spoke first.

"We had no intention of taking anything," she said and I admired the way her voice didn't even tremble. "We only wanted to find a way out."

The dragon made a low noise, perhaps a growl or merely a clearing of the throat.

"You entered my lair without permission. Surely, for that, you owe me something."

"What do you propose we owe you?" Diarmuid asked.

"Why, treasure of course," the dragon said. "If you each provide me with a treasure worthy to redeem for your intrusion, I'll allow you to leave."

"We don't have any treasure," Diarmuid said. "Because this is a place of the fey, we were not able to bring anything of cold iron with us. We have neither sword nor jewels nor anything else of value. The only thing I have, which you are welcome to if it pleases you, is this dagger."

He retrieved the dagger from his boot and offered it on the palm of his hand.

"And my brooch," Owain added, fumbling in a pocket. He held out the small keepsake he had used to mark our progress through the tunnels. "You can have this too."

The dragon barely glanced at the offered items before it snorted. "Surely you jest. Look at the priceless treasures surrounding you. I have here riches worth many kingdoms. No human king possesses treasure to rival the value of mine. And yet you offer me a small, plain dagger and a scratched brooch?"

"We offer you everything we have," Diarmuid said. "Doesn't that make them priceless?"

The dragon tipped its head to one side, considering, and nodded. "I suppose it does, in a way, and yet your offerings are poor. None the less, I accept your treasures, such as they are. You may place them on the ground."

Diarmuid and Owain each set their item down. I had to remind myself to breathe.

"You have not redeemed yourselves," the dragon said.

"We have given you everything we have," Diarmuid said. "What else can we give?"

The dragon considered him. "You tell me. What else have you to offer, little bard?"

"Shall I tell you a tale?" An edge of desperation crept into Diarmuid's voice.
 

The dragon laughed and then coughed. Small puffs of steam escaped its nostrils. "You have already confessed your failure as a bard. Now you expect me to accept a tale as payment for your intrusion?"

"Then what do you want from us?"

There was a long pause. The dragon looked around its cavern and, for a while, almost seemed to forget we were there. Hope flared briefly and my tail curled up just the tiniest bit. Perhaps, while the dragon was distracted, we could sneak out. But we still needed the key.

"You will answer a riddle," the dragon said at length. "Four riddles, one each. For each correct answer, I will give leave for the one who answers to depart. How does that sound, little bard?"

I trembled. How could I answer a riddle while trapped in this form? I wished, for Diarmuid's sake, that I could be brave and tell him to leave me behind, but I desperately hoped he would find another way.

"Provided we can choose who answers each riddle and we are permitted to have one to answer for all, we accept," Diarmuid said.

"No," the dragon said. "Four riddles, four answers, one each."

I felt their eyes on me, Diarmuid, Owain and Rhiwallon. I tucked my tail between my legs and didn't look at any of them.

"That's not fair," Owain said.

"Fair?" The dragon pulled itself up to its full height. I hadn't realise until now how it had lowered itself down, presumably for ease of talking to us. Now it sat up on its haunches and stretched out its neck, glowering as it towered over us.
 

"What is fair about your intrusion in my lair? What is fair about forcing me to endure your stench? Do you have any idea how long the scent of humans lingers? It will be months before I no longer smell you every minute I am at home."

"And if we fail?" Diarmuid asked.

"Why, then, I eat you."
 

"We accept," Diarmuid said and my heart broke. He intended to leave me behind. "Ask your first riddle."

The dragon snorted but appeared mollified. It thought for a few moments.
 

"What whispers and roars, inhabits several forms, and can be a source of both life and death?"

My heart pounded and I felt Owain holding his breath. I had no idea what answer the dragon expected. Surely Diarmuid was the only one of us who could answer such riddles. If we each had to answer one, and they were all this hard, we had already lost.

I knew the moment Diarmuid had the answer for his face lit up. My heart ached to see it and it was only in that moment that I realised how much I loved him.

"Water," he said.

"Water indeed, little human," the dragon said. "Very well, then, what is quieter than a whisper and yet louder than thunder?"

Diarmuid spoke quickly. "This riddle is for Bramble."

I held myself very still. I could hardly fathom his reason for this.

The dragon considered him for a moment and then turned its gaze on me. "Aah, you mean the creature who wears not its own form?"

I stared back at the dragon. How did it know?
 

"Yes, I feel your surprise, little one. It blazes from your eyes."

The dragon was probably very old and knowledgeable. Perhaps it could tell me of a way to escape this form. But I could not speak to the dragon, however much I might wish it, not unless it could read my mind.

The dragon turned back to Diarmuid. "How will she answer my riddle if she cannot speak?"

"She has already answered for you," Diarmuid said. "With her silence."

Of course, the answer was silence. My heart lifted and my tail curled. Maybe, just maybe, we could pass this test. Maybe Diarmuid didn't intend to leave me behind to be eaten by the dragon.

The dragon huffed and considered its next riddle. "What is both welcomed and despised, liked and feared, a source of sorrow and a source of joy?"

"Death," Owain said immediately.
 

The dragon acknowledged his answer with a dip of its head. "What can make one both run and freeze, cry and scream, be thankful to be alive and wish one was dead?"

We waited. Rhiwallon was the only one who had not yet answered. To my surprise, she gave a faint smile.

"Fear," she said.

The dragon smiled, in as much as such a creature can. It nodded its huge head as it eyed us each in turn.

"Well done, little humans. You surprise me."

"Will you honour your bargain?" Diarmuid asked. "And allow us to leave?"

"A dragon never goes back on its word," it said, somewhat haughtily.

"And we can continue our search for the key?"

The creature's mood changed then and its eyes flashed darkly. "You are arrogant indeed to think I would allow you to take something from my home."

"Then how will we unlock the door?" Diarmuid asked. "You have agreed to allow us to leave but we need the key."

"How you achieve your goal is of no concern to me," the dragon said. "Go back the way you entered if you cannot exit by the other."

"We can't," Diarmuid said. "That way will take us many days and we have neither food nor water."

The dragon shrugged and its tail twitched, much as an irritated cat swishes its tail before it extends its claws and swipes. "That is your problem. Not mine."

We looked at each other, Diarmuid, Owain, Rhiwallon and I. They all looked as empty of hope as I felt.

"May as well keep going," Owain said.

Diarmuid's shoulders slumped. "And then what? We sit and wait until someone else happens along?"

"Hurry up, little humans," the dragon said. "Linger too long and I may change my mind."

"Let's go," Diarmuid muttered. "We'll think of something."

I felt disheartened, almost despondent. But perhaps the door wasn't locked after all. The reference to a key might have been Titania's way of distracting us. I sat up straighter in Owain's arms. There might be a way out after all.

That hope lasted only until we reached the door and confirmed it was indeed locked. Had I been in my own form, I would have sat down and cried. Instead, I was struck by a powerful urge to lift my muzzle and howl. I swallowed my desperation and looked to Diarmuid. He traced the lock with one finger. It looked nothing like any lock I had ever seen.

"This reminds me of something," he murmured and his eyes were distant even as his hand lingered on the door. "The leaf, Owain, the red one."

Owain tucked me under one arm and fumbled in his pocket. He retrieved a scarlet red leaf and I remembered watching him pluck it from the floor after the fey had left.
Might be useful,
he had said. Now he stretched out his hand, leaf balanced on his palm, to Diarmuid.

Diarmuid glanced at the leaf and nodded. "That's our key." He motioned towards the door. "You do it, Owain. You were the one who thought to keep it."

Owain stepped forward, his thick fingers holding the leaf with delicateness. The lock was exactly the size and shape of the leaf and he gently slid it into position, placing the leaf flat against the door's surface. It unlocked with a click.

"Farewell, little humans," the dragon said from behind us. "Perhaps you might return another time."

We stepped through the doorway, Diarmuid first, then Rhiwallon, then Owain carrying me. I pitied the dragon left behind, lonely and surrounded by mounds of treasure.

I wanted to howl when I realised that on the other side of the door was yet another green-lit tunnel. We had rescued Rhiwallon, crossed the fiery bridge, answered the dragon's riddles, and found the key. What more would be asked of us? I rested my head on Owain's shoulder with a heavy sigh.
 

We crowded into a tunnel which was far narrower than the others we had traversed and barely ten paces long before it ended in another door. The roof was high but the width was exactly the size necessary for Owain to pass through and no more. He had just stepped through the doorway, when Diarmuid spoke.

"Owain, wait," he said. "Keep the door open."

By the time Owain managed to turn around in the too-small space, the door had closed with a soft thud. "Too late," he said.

"See if you can open it again." Diarmuid's voice sounded strange, as if he was barely controlling panic.

Clutched in Owain's arms, I could see that the door was blank and smooth.

"No handle," Owain said.

"What's the problem?" Rhiwallon asked.

"Push it," Diarmuid said. "Maybe it didn't close properly."

Owain pressed his palm to the door but even I could see that it had closed securely and the make of its frame was such that it could only be opened from the other side.

"Won't budge," Owain said.

We waited.
 

"There's no way to open the door at this end," Diarmuid said, at last.