Chapter 48: Chapter 48: The Ruse

Sniff. Sniff. The beast leapt to the rim of the cone.

“Gone! Again! Gone!”

Lifting its head to the sky, it roared, the sound sending the few surviving children of Tirikan scurrying. In its dark mind, the voices waged war.

“Nathair has failed!”

“Attack! Attack!”

“Why did we wait?”

Reason spoke, “Did the lovers not meet this morning, and the scent disappear? Yet, Nathair separated them, and the scent came back. He will separate them again. Give the plan more time.”

“Time! Time! We don't have time. We are starving!”

“Reason is daft.”

“Reason? Let us call him Fool.”

Inside the cone, the dragon clawed the wall. It bit off chunks of rock, crushing them between its powerful jaws.

Reason spoke again. “I accept your wise counsel. If Nathair has failed, then we must act.”

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“How?” the voices clamored.

“We must separate the lovers.”

The voice of the poet was filled with mockery. “Pray tell, great thinker, how will we accomplish this? Lovers are wont to be together—and when threatened, wont more.”

“We're listening,” shouted the builder, “waiting to hear your great plan.”

“Any day now would be excellent,” said the mathematician.

“Did you forget that we are STARVING!”

“Silence!” Reason shouted.

The dragon let itself fall backward into the warmth of the lava. With closed eyes, it sank. The voices quieted, until the dragon thought of nothing, until its mind was as blank as a dead toad's. Currents of molten rock churned around it. A vent spewing bubbles of hydrogen sulfide massaged its neck. A question emerged.

“What would cause Aonair Laoch to abandon—no, not abandon…”

“What would cause Aonair Laoch to temporarily leave his true love?”

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