Misti and the Dragon Egg
Chapter 12

Misti slipped through the crowd. The two large sithrax struggled to push through. She was small and fast, faster than they could ever be. Where would she go? The harbor was her best bet. She’d jump on a boat, any boat. Whatever boat she’d pick, it’d get her out of this place. As far away as possible.

The streets were crowded and sizzling with lizards. The stench of rotten meat or whatever was in the air was making her sick. Where was that harbor? Left? Right? Straight? Everything looked the same here! She’d have to rely on scent and scent alone. Boats. Wood. Wet wood. Sea. Salt. Fish.

The hive of rounded clay houses got bigger, then smaller, then bigger again. Had she been on that plaza before? Had she ventured down that narrow street three days ago? Everything looked the same! Misti almost tripped, once, twice, three times, but she was gaining on them. Maybe she was even losing them. Or maybe those footsteps she was hearing behind her were of more lizardmen pursuing her. Misti was putting on quite the show in the city of Kotma Ata. Sithrax were shouting and hissing every time she passed them.

There, up ahead, a square she’d most certainly seen before. The market. That meant she was near the Outcast, the district of non-sithrax creatures. She could be safe there. Safer than here.

She was almost there when the dark blue shadow of a leather jacket stepped in her way. Misti bumped into Virgil and fell on her bottom. She raised her head and stared at him with blue eyes of wonder. How had he been so fast? Why was he barring her way?

She knew why, but admitting it would be too painful. How could she have been so stupid?

She should have never trusted him! How could he have done this to her?

Misti finally found the courage to talk. “Why?” She accused rather than asked. “What’s happening? What did you do to Juniu? What will you do to me?”

Multiple staggering sithrax caught up to them. She wasn’t even sure those were the same from the start of the chase. They stood still and growled while Virgil leaned forward, his face coming close to Misti’s.

Misti cocked her head left and right, panicked, then turned back to Virgil. “You helped me in my mission! You took me to the Holy Beacon. Why do this now?”

He smirked. That smile that had seemed playful and candid now looked malicious.

“I thought you were good,” Misti cried. “We were going to save this place—”

“I don’t fight wars, Misti,” Virgil injected. “I only benefit from them. You got me the Blasphemer, got me close to him. You got me a fortune. Selling you was the cherry on top of a beautiful cake.” He laughed, and his laughter ended in a vile grin.

Misti’s anger burst, but it was more than just anger. It was vindictive, like a returning rash. What had this place done to her?

The anger took control of her, and Misti scratched Virgil in the face with a swift and clean movement.

Virgil’s eyes went silent and dark. He checked the scratches from his eyebrow down to his chin. His eye was bleeding. His mouth was red. When he saw the blood on his hand, he stood straight again and kicked Misti in the face.

The pain she felt in her jaw was nothing compared to the betrayal that clutched her heart.

“Why?” Misti asked as she raised herself.

“The same reason I do anything, Misti,” Virgil answered, his tone absolutely emotionless. He then looked at the lizardmen behind her and clicked his fingers. “Take her. Don’t forget our deal when you sell her.”

One sithrax who carried some sort of stick marched heavily toward her. Then Misti saw it wasn’t a stick, it was some sort of pitchfork with only two teeth. With a rigid stir, the beast pinned her to the ground face down, planting the weapon’s teeth into the sand, trapping her neck in between.

“Doo vil get doo share,” the beast hissed at Virgil.

Misti couldn’t see much with most of her face in the sand, but she saw Virgil’s boots leave the scene. At that moment, she was sure this was the end, and all that flowed through her soul was regret.

They held her pinned to the ground as they fastened a collar around her neck. Other lizards, and even people, gathered around them like an awestruck crowd. They watched and gasped or growled.

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Misti had stopped struggling. She’d stopped kicking the air and scratching the sand. She was exhausted from the run, from her journey that had all been for nothing. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t even have the energy for that.

A hand suddenly reached out for her backpack, peeling it off of her. Fear and maybe something else rushed through her. Something urgent. Misti yowled and growled.

“No! No!”

But whoever was taking her backpack was so much stronger than her. Yet Misti was able to turn around and latch on to her backpack with all her strength. She clenched and clutched as best as she could. But the sithrax, green and black, pulled so hard, it ripped the leather straps. Misti, who’d hovered above the ground, not wanting to let go, fell with a thump on the sand.

“Give it back!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

The lizard was walking away, taking her backpack with him. Taking the dragon egg she’d sworn to protect away from her.

Misti’s instinct sang through her blood. It gave her just enough strength to jump and latch on to the backpack again. However, the lizard behind her gripped her collar and pulled firmly, almost snapping her neck. Misti landed on the ground and was dragged in the opposite direction. Two sithrax in armor, maybe the same she’d seen earlier, began dispersing the crowd.

The girl-cat looked straight ahead, at her backpack that slowly vanished into the crowd, then she noticed something. She’d somehow opened it, and she could see inside. The dragon egg was glowing.

She felt something. That same urgent rush. She checked her hands—they were glowing too. And when she focused on that strange but zealous power she felt, she heard a voice. A song ringing between her pointy, furry ears.

“They can’t separate us. They can’t kill us. Don’t run, fight. Don’t bow, rise.”

That same voice she’d heard in her dreams. Now, the egg was glowing even brighter. Misti realized the voice that had spoken to her, sent her on that mission, it wasn’t the gods. It wasn’t a prophecy. That voice came and had come from the Siyliq, the dragon egg. It was calling to her.

Misti knew she had one chance, one opportunity to fight. She let herself fall on all fours. Her collar slipped between her capturer’s fingers.

Misti ran on four legs to her backpack. She pushed herself up, jumping into the air, and when her glowing paws made contact with the egg, light exploded.

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