Chapter Sixteen

Adan Liepsnojantis

“Ow, ow,” someone muttered. Adan’s head swam. Who was that? Should he help them?

It occurred to him that he was the one talking. So he stopped. 

He sat up. He had been lying under a scorched pine tree. Every now and then a hot drop of sap would land on his scales, leaving a tiny burn. He scrambled to his feet. Where was Eridanus? Where was he?

Adan looked around. He was sitting in a field under a single pine tree. To the north, Mount Naga loomed, yet he could smell the sea.

The scent was faint, though, because it was overpowered by the choking smell of smoke. Adan looked around to see what was burning.

The field where he stood was a conflagration of amber flames, staining the blue sky black. He coughed and flapped his wings to fly away. If he could get to Mount Naga, he could help Sundancer find Eridanus.

But his wings would not open. Adan’s heart stopped. His wings were bound with thick hemp rope, too thick for his claws to cut through. He tried anyway, shredding away. The only thing that accomplished was accidentally cutting himself.

The fire inched closer. Adan bit down on the rope in desperation. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He roared in frustration as the fire grew, reaching for him hungrily. 

Wait. The rope was flammable and he was fireproof! 

In his excitement, he didn’t think. He thrust both wingtips into the fire.

“AAAAOOW!” he shrieked, thrusting himself backward. He wasn’t expecting the fire to be that hot… but it worked. The rope caught fire, burned bright, and shriveled. Bright pain stung his scales, but he bit his tongue and let it burn. 

The rope crumbled to ash and with a yelp of pain, Adan twisted up and into the sky. His wings caught the air and he soared towards the distant shape of  Mount Naga.

/\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\/\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\

Adan’s wings ached. His shoulders throbbed, and his tail smarted. He wanted to land more than anything, but he knew that if he landed, he would want to sleep.

He groaned and pumped his wings. Again. And again. And once more before locking into the gliding position. Mount Naga, with its cavalcade of busy, buzzing dragons, loomed in front of him, only a half hour away now. 

Adan stared longingly at the soft, muddy fields of orange cane and woodrice beneath. Citrusy scents wafted up on the breeze.

Then he was gliding over harsh lots of falsesap and Dark Night’s Delight. He wobbled woozily as the potent sedative fumes reached his nostrils. Then came forest, and then fields of submerged sunferns and false figs. After the cloying scent of the sweet figs had faded, Adan resolved not to look down anymore – it only made him more tired and hungry.

Warm scents of bread and apples wafted around him. Adan instantly broke his resolution and peered down. He had reached the village outside Mount Naga. The bread and apples were coming from an older couple selling hot apple pastries. Adan glanced at his satchel. It clinked promisingly. 

Ten minutes later, he was soaring toward the peak, inhaling a warm apple vanilla croissant wrapped in a cloth napkin. Possibly one of the best things he had ever eaten, every bite was fireworks of bliss on his parched tongue. 

Adan turned toward the wide marble windowsill attached to the meeting room. Hopefully, no one would be inside and he could go find Queen Sundancer. 

He landed hard on the sill and slipped in a puddle. He tumbled forward. And landed right in the middle of the cool marble table.

Three dozen of the world’s most powerful and respected leaders leaned over to inspect the muddy, sloppy, covered-in-ash, sticky-taloned mess that was Adan Liepsnojantis.

Sundancer looked incandescent and mad.