When they returned to the giant metal block Shyyda had called a table, it was covered in a grand velvet cloth and fitted with chairs on the far end. Only Doravan, Amalla, the king, and two others were in attendance.

  Amalla and Doravan took their seats. Despite not having eaten real food in over two days, Doravan couldn’t even look at his plate. He needed to know what the Hoarder was doing, so he kept his gaze fixed on the king, who nonchalantly thanked the god-dragons for the banquet and began eating.

  “Where–?” Doravan started, but one of the servants grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. Amalla shrugged at him and began nibbling at her food. Doravan stubbornly folded his arms and waited for the king to finish. It seemed to drag on for an hour, but the king finally motioned for the servants to take his plate.

  “Apologies,” the king said. “We believe that the king’s nourishment brings strength to all of Shyyda, and that the interruption of our meal interrupts the flow of life. Thank you for respecting our rituals.”

  Amalla bowed in place. “We are happy to participate in the things sacred to Shyyda.”

  “You saw the Hoarder?” Doravan cut in.

  Shyyda nodded. “He came right up to the castle gate. As we expected, he turned away when he could not break through.”

  Doravan slammed his hands on the table. “And you didn’t tell us?! He could have destroyed you all!”

  “Do not raise your voice to the king, or you will face death,” a servant snapped.

  The king held up his hand. “They do not know our customs. Speak rationally, Mengorian, or you will be escorted from our castle.”

  Amalla glowered at Doravan. He sighed. He hadn’t felt like it was necessary to lie or hide to keep up appearances, but now being in the king’s good graces probably needed to be the priority.

  He nodded to Shyyda. “I–the queen and I are determined to keep Mengor safe. Not only are we at this table the last of the monarchies to be represented at this feast, but Shyyda and Mengor are the last two kingdoms of any significance in our part of the world. The Hoarder has taken everything else.”

  The other two feast attendees nodded in agreement and began whispering to each other. Doravan continued.

  “I know this stone is impervious to him for now, but the Hoarder is not just any dragon. He is clever and always watching. I don’t know what his motives are, or what he will do after we are all destroyed, but I know it is time to end him before that happens.”

  Shyyda mused over this for a moment, then beckoned to one of his servants. He whispered in the servant’s ear, and the servant left.

  “You are right, Mengorian.” Shyyda stood and began pacing. “If you have seen the Hoarder, you know he is nearly the size of this castle. You are young, so you do not remember days before him. Almost no one does–no one except for a resident of this edifice.”

  Doravan’s eyes widened.

  Amalla’s brow furrowed. “But the Hoarder came here more than a hundred years ago. Who would be alive to remember that?”

  Shyyda gestured for them to leave. “Follow our servants. They will show you. Your dragon will meet you there.”

  “There?” Doravan asked, but Amalla grabbed his arm and brought him along. They followed the servants back into the maze of stone halls. They were led past their suite and down another staircase, longer than the first. The air grew chilly around them, as though they were far underground.

  And they kept going. Doravan tried to ask questions, but the servants silenced him. Even in the dim light of fading torches, he could see them glare at him.

  The servants finally stopped after at least an hour of walking. Shen’al trotted up behind Doravan.

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  “Whatever is in there, it’s ancient,” Shen’al whispered.

  “In where? I can’t see anything.”

  “Those doors. There are huge doors in front of us. It’s almost like they’re hiding a–,”

  The servants spoke in unison. “Greet the true leader of Shyyda, Men’yong’shyy’li.” The great doors lumbered open, and the servants ushered the Mengorians inside.

  The cave had no torches, so Doravan couldn’t see anything. Then a raspy chorus burst out of the darkness.

  “Welcome.” A whoosh filled the air, and a line of fire ran across the room in a deep stone trench. Doravan gawked at the vastness of the cave; the bright firelight didn’t touch any corner of the ceiling or back walls. It seemed to stretch on forever.

  Then some movement caught his eye, and an albino dragon, larger than the castle itself, marched slowly out of the back of the cave. His eyes were glazed over with age, possibly blindness. He sat with great effort and sighed.

  The raspy chorus continued. “I am Men’yong’shyy’li, king of Shyyda and the last of the Founder Dragons.”

  “You must be thousands of years old,” Amalla murmured. She bowed, and Doravan followed. “We are in awe of your presence, Great One.”

  “Rise, young girl.” The dragon lowered his neck and looked Doravan in the eye. “Shyyda knows I allow few to visit. They must know you need to see me.”

  “It is the Hoarder of Crowns … great one,” Doravan said. He didn’t know how to address thousand-year-old dragons, but following Amalla’s example couldn’t hurt.

  “Hoarder of Crowns?” the dragon muttered. “What creature is this?”

  Doravan stepped forward, frustrated that the dragon had not been briefed on mankind’s greatest enemy. “He has plagued us for over one hundred years. He is a great dragon from the South, like yourself, and he does nothing but plunder and murder us. Our dragons are … somewhat smaller than the Southern dragons, and they cannot stand against him.”

  “We could take him if there were more of us,” Shen’al countered.

  Amalla stepped forward as well. “We could use your help, Your Excellency. None of us know how to defeat a Southern dragon.”

  The dragon mused. “What is this dragon’s name?”

  “Ka’ran’ere’geth,” Doravan said.

  The dragon bellowed. Doravan clapped his hands over his ears, and the cave began to shake. The dragon stood, agitated, and stomped. When he finished, Doravan lowered his hands.

  “Do not call the traitor by that name!” The dragon spit a cloud of smoke. “His name is Ka’lyl. He gave himself a fourth syllable because he knew we would never honor him that way.”

  Doravan frowned. “Fourth syllable?”

  Amalla touched his shoulder. “Age and prestige give dragons more syllables to their name. I suppose Ka’lyl thought he mattered enough to have four syllables, like legendary dragons and true leaders.”

  “To dragons, ‘lyl’ means something like ‘pathetic.’ An adult dragon should have three syllables.” Shen’al chuckled. “I guess that’s why he came here, where no one could bully him.”

  The albino dragon snorted. “Indeed. He was always a coward, and he always will be. He tried to enslave the humans of the South, who are already servants to the dragons, not companions as they are here. He has a deep hatred of humans. While humans are indeed very weak, they are not stupid.” He turned his attention straight to Shen’al. “You would be wise to value your human companion. I have lived for over ten thousand years. While I am nearing my end, little one, I have lived this long because of human companionship.”

  Shen’al nodded timidly.

  Men’yong’shyy’li looked at Doravan. “You want to know how to defeat this beast.”

  “Yes, great dragon.”

  “You will need an army. Or perhaps …” The dragon sighed. “I am nearly dead as it is. But I have enough strength left in me to help you.”

  Amalla gasped. “You would spend your life to defeat him for us?”

  The dragon smiled. “Of course, young girl.”

  A thunderous boom sounded above them, and even the albino dragon looked shocked. The cave rattled, and a stalactite fell from the ceiling. Amalla backed towards the cave wall, and Doravan followed.

  Another boom landed, and then another. The ceiling began to crumble. Shen’al scooped up Doravan and Amalla and swept them out of the dragon’s hall.

  “Get out of here!” the great dragon roared. “I’ll deal with–,”

  A final, deafening crack filled the air, and Shen’al squeezed his human companions underneath his body. Rocks and pebbles clinked off of his scales, and Doravan winced when he felt the impact of a great boulder slam into Shen’al’s shoulder.

  When everything had cleared, Doravan had to squint as daylight poured down into the cavern. The albino dragon’s claw stuck out from under a pile of red granite rubble; the entire castle had collapsed on him.