"Stay calm," Gavin urged. "Stand your ground. Don't reach for weapons. Don't make eye contact."
Kendra stared away from the dragon, watching it approach from her peripheral vision. The great wings spread wide, creating a rush of wind as the dragon alighted near them. Paralyzing fear washed over Kendra, the terror instinctual and overpowering. Was this how a rabbit felt when it saw a hawk swooping down? The dragon had a head like a giant lion, with red-gold fur and a crimson mane. Eight sets of legs supported the scaly body, the large feet each a hybrid of dragon claw and lion paw. The dragon stood half again taller than Trask, and stretched longer than two school buses.
"Visitors," the dragon purred in a rich, interested voice. "We seldom have visitors. This is a dangerous domain. I prevent the unworthy from entering. Are any of you capable of speech?"
"I can converse with you, mighty one," Gavin said. "And look me in the eye. Impressive. What of your companions?"
"I can speak," Trask said. "We seek the caretaker."
"I can speak as well," Mara added.
Kendra trembled. She doubted she could move her arms or legs, but forced some words past her lips. "As can I."
The dragon inclined his leonine head. "An impressive group of humans. Four of seven retaining some semblance of control. One with true self-possession. Who can move?"
Mara and Trask went to stand at either side of Gavin, who saluted the dragon casually. Kendra tried to override the paralysis in her limbs but failed. The dragon shook his head, fluffing up his shaggy mane. "Three? Why not the fourth? I
see, although she harbors a strange energy, she is not a true dragon speaker. What errand brings you to Wyrmroost?"
"We s-s-seek audience with the caretaker," Gavin said.
"Fair enough," the dragon replied. "You will find Agad inside Blackwell Keep. I am Camarat. I work with Agad. I have not screened visitors for many years." Camarat prowled forward and sniffed Warren, then took a whiff of the knapsack. "More in there than one might suspect. But nothing too alarming." The dragon moved in front of Trask, exhaling blue-white fumes from his nostrils. "What brings you to Wyrmroost?"
"We seek the key to a distant vault," Trask said, scowling after the words left his mouth.
"A key? Interesting." The dragon moved to Mara, exhaling on her. "What else do you hope to accomplish?"
"We want the key and we want to survive," she replied.
The dragon reared up like a cobra, towering over them, two sets of legs pawing at the air. "Very well, you may pass. Be forewarned. Wyrmroost is not for the faint of heart."
The gilded wings spread wide and with a rush of air the dragon took flight, elongated body curling and snapping like a whip. Awed by the fluid grace of the magnificent creature, Kendra watched it corkscrew into the sky. With a clacking of gears and the clang of heavy chains the drawbridge in the wall began to swing down. A hard-packed path wide enough for a wagon led directly from the golden gate to the drawbridge. Trask marched toward the fort.
"Is there often a dragon at the gate to welcome visitors?" Kendra asked Gavin, falling into step beside him.
"I've n-n-n-never seen such a thing. We would have warned everyone. I haven't met a dragon quite like Camarat either."
"Was he breathing truth serum on Trask and Mara?"
"Or something like it. Hey, good job dragging us through the gate. I was feeling pretty foggy."
"We all have our specialties." She hoped she sounded casual instead of proud.
They reached the drawbridge and passed over a shallow, dry moat choked with thorny shrubs. The iron teeth of a raised portcullis hung menacingly above as they strode through the thick wall and out into a flagstone courtyard. A solid gray building topped by battlements stood before them. No light shone within the high, narrow windows. Three figures awaited them in front of the single heavy door to the stone structure.
In the center, the tallest minotaur Kendra had ever seen leaned on a long-hafted battle-ax like a staff. His shaggy fur was the silky chestnut of an Irish setter, and a black patch covered one eye. To the left stood a creature like a centaur, except with the body of a moose. Several scars defaced his brown skin, the most gruesome angling down from one ear and curving halfway across his throat. He carried a black bow and wore a quiver of arrows. A polished horn hung from one shoulder by a leather strap. On the right, a thin, hairless woman with four arms and skin like a snake tested the air with her slender tongue. Her lower hands held daggers with jagged blades.
The minotaur stepped forward, twisting his head so he could better regard the newcomers with his good eye. "What brings you to Blackwell Keep?" he asked gruffly.
Trask held his hands at his sides, palms outward. "I am Trask. We come as friends, hoping to lodge here for the night. Are you Agad?"
The minotaur snorted, nostrils flaring. "Agad will receive you in the High Hall." He gestured at the snakelike woman. "Simrin will escort you. Leave your arms and gear in the guardhouse." With his ax, he pointed at a structure to the side of the main entry. "The alcetaur will assist you." The moose-bodied centaur came toward them.
"Let's do it," Trask muttered, heading for the guardhouse.
The silent alcetaur showed where to pile their gear. Warren checked with Trask before setting down the knapsack, then complied after receiving a curt nod. Kendra kept the unicorn horn inside her coat pocket.
With their belongings stored, Kendra and the others followed Simrin through a cavernous hall where crows roosted in the rafters. Shorter than Kendra, the serpentine woman moved with a fluid, slithery stride. She led them out a door at the rear of the hall, up two flights of stairs, and across an enclosed walkway to an adjacent building. Kendra peered down through a window at a courtyard overrun by ferns, bushes, and gnarled trees. Chipped statues spotted with lichen watched over the vegetation, marble faces all but worn away.
Simrin guided them up a few steps and through a large set of doors into a narrow chamber with a barrel-vaulted ceiling. Daylight shone through leaded lancet windows onto a long stone table with twelve seats on each side. At the head of the table in the largest and most elaborate chair sat a plump, elderly man whose flowing gray beard reached his lap. A black cloak trimmed with sable hung from his hunched shoulders, mostly covering the silky red robes beneath. Jeweled rings adorned each finger. He was eating moist chunks of meat out of a hollowed heel of tough, dark bread.