“I can’t watch!” she gasped.

Marcus gave a final pull at the oars, and then shipped them and ducked his head.

The boat skimmed over the surface and slid into the maw. He was awash in darkness so deep that it made the lambent light of stars and river seem bright by contrast. He could see nothing, and he recalled how the monks had lit lanterns on their boats when they had sailed into the cavern.

Marcus stared hard in the direction of the shoreline. He could not see it. He could see nothing in the pitch dark of the cave. He couldn’t hear anything either and he began to think that the cavern was empty, that they were going to slip through unchallenged.

He did not give thanks yet. The boat was starting to lose its forward momentum. He would have to row. His heart in his mouth, he picked up the oars, moving slowly and carefully to keep them from squeaking, and slowly and carefully lowered them into the water. They made a gentle splash, and he cringed as he pulled on the oars. He feared losing his way in the darkness, and he was relieved beyond measure to see the exit—a much wider aperture than the entrance—come into view. The starlit river glimmered in the opening, and he steered the boat toward it.

The opening came nearer and nearer. Marcus was starting to think that they were going to escape after all, his heart was starting to lift, when a glimmer of light caught his attention.

The light came not from the shore, but from the dark water.

Marcus stared down into the river’s depths. The light grew in brilliance, and then there were two lights—red-gold in color, widening and expanding and drawing closer.

Marcus ceased to row. His hands clenched on the oars. Two eyes—red-gold, with black, reptilian, slit pupils—gazed up at him.

The dragon was in the water beneath them.

Terrified, Marcus stared into the eyes that followed him, unblinking, as the boat slid over the surface. The boat moved of its own volition, for Marcus’s hands had gone numb, his arms had lost their strength. He sat in his small chair in his little room and quaked at the sight of the unblinking eyes and the dragon’s thoughts that clawed with sharp colors at his soul.

“Come out,” Grald urged. “I’ve your doom to show you.”

Marcus stayed where he was, kept the door bolted.

“I will give you a glimpse,” said Grald.

Ranks of soldiers—human soldiers, clad in armor that sparkled in the moonlight like the scales of the dragon—marched toward Marcus. The soldiers marched faster and faster, rushing up at him. Water surged around the boat, and he envisioned it capsizing, throwing him into the river, where the dragon would seize him and drag him under.