"No man or woman can tame a dragon, chieftain," said Jeid. "I am Aeternum, King of Requiem—a nation of dragons. Requiem and Goldtusk fly together. We would have you fly with us, for a threat covers this land, drawing nearer, and all who seek to fight darkness must now bind together."

The chieftain's ptero snapped its head from side to side, its mouth clattering open and closed. Its small eyes spun, but Oritan's eyes remained steady, staring at Laira. Finally the chieftain nodded, whirled in the sky, and gestured for Laira and Jeid to follow. He flew toward the mountain, diving to enter one of the eye sockets.

Laira and Jeid glanced at each other, then followed. The two stony skulls upon the mountainside stared back at Laira, craggy and anguished, bitter faces forever fused together. The eye socket gaped open, so large Laira felt like a mere bird flying through a window. Jeid close behind, she flew into the mountain, entering a realm of shadows and light.

A cavern filled the mountain, a hundred times larger than Requiem's old canyon in the escarpment. Dozens of pteros perched upon the walls, clinging to the stone like bats. Torches crackled between them, and fires burned upon the cave floor. Murals of bison, elks, lions, and many other animals covered the ceiling; in the flickering firelight, they seemed almost to race across the stone. Riders of Leatherwing filled the cave, drinking from clay bowls, praying to stone idols carved as obese women, and sharpening spears. All turned to stare and hiss at the roc and dragon entering their domain.

A massive stalagmite, a hundred feet tall, rose like a tower in the cave's center. Upon its flattened crest perched a seat carved of granite inlaid with golden runes. Oritan led his ptero there. The lanky reptile clutched the stone pillar, allowing Oritan to dismount and claim his seat; then the ptero flew off to cling to the ceiling high above. Jeid too flew to the pillar, released his magic, and landed before the throne in human form. Laira led her own mount to this seat of power. Neiva clutched the stalagmite, and Laira dismounted and stood upon the stone tower before Oritan and his throne.

"Wait for me outside, Neiva," Laira said softly, stroking the roc, who still clung to the pillar. "Join the others. I'll return to you soon."

Neiva tilted her head and nuzzled Laira with her massive beak, a beak the size of Laira's entire body. Then the roc turned and left, wings scattering droplets of oil, and exited the mountain.

"Speak, Laira, daughter of Raem." Oritan leaned back in his throne of stone and gold. "Speak of this alliance which your tribe once spurned. And speak too of this enemy you claim draws near. And finally, speak to me of these dragons, of this so-called king who comes into my hall."