Free Warrior by Bryan Davis

snort.
    “You did not keep your word,” Magnar said as he drew closer. “What happened to the integrity of the great high priest?”
    “I kept my word. I neither broke my chains nor lied to the crystal. I am now a prisoner of a promise I made to the young lady who rides on my back.”
    Magnar bent his neck and peered around Arxad, his eyes fiery. “She must be a powerful sorceress to be able to release you from your bonds and force you into submission.”
    “She threatened the crystal,” Arxad replied, still breathless. “Unless I gave her the key and acquiesced to her demands, she would have destroyed it.”
    “Such are the disadvantages of a dragon who finds lying distasteful. Your allegiance to your word supersedes your loyalty to our species.” Magnar lumbered to Arxad’s flank and bobbed his head at Elyssa’s side. “I have seen the one-eyed boy before, but you have the look of a free woman. Did you come from Darksphere?”
    Elyssa set a hand on her hip. “Even if I knew what you were talking about, why would I confess to such a strange idea? And why would you ask for a self-incriminating statement? After all, I
am
able to lie.”
    “She has venom enough to be from Darksphere,” Magnar said. “No female here would be so disrespectful. Lashes at an early age will drive that out of any wench.”
    Elyssa kept her stare fixed on Magnar. It was too late to change her posture to that of a cowering slave. Such a quick shift would be too obvious. Maybe confident silence would keep the truth a secret, at least for a while.
    “Lift your shirt so I can see your back,” Magnar ordered.
    “What?” Elyssa touched the hem of her tunic. “Why?”
    “To see if you bear the marks of an impertinent slave. Do as I say, or I will cook both of you where you sit.”
    Trying not to cringe, Elyssa held the front of her tunic. “Wallace? Will you lift it for me?”
    “Uh… okay.”
    The material rode up her back and a draft of air cooled her skin. She glared at Magnar. “Satisfied?”
    The huge dragon took a heavy step toward her and stopped, meeting her glare with pulsing eyes. His nostrils flared. Smoke streamed out. Yet he said nothing. He just stared.
    Elyssa swallowed, hoping her slow transition to the image of fearful slave would be convincing. When Wallace let her shirt fall back into place, she spoke in a conciliatory tone, her voice trembling. “As you can see, lashes have done little to tame my tongue. I am a …” She glanced at Arxad. “An impertinent wench, I suppose. I apologize for my lack of respect.”
    Magnar continued to stare. Her words had no effect, apparently glancing off his armor like poorly thrown spears. Was he reading her face? Her posture? She had to block any silent communication.
    She slumped her shoulders, hoping to display humility, and put on an innocent, confused-puppy expression. It would either work or enrage him, but no other options came to mind.
    Finally, Magnar backed away and waved a wing. “Dismount. You are hiding something from me.”
    Elyssa slid down the dragon’s flank and landed, bending her knees. Wallace slid down as well and stood at her side. “Any idea what he means?” he asked, loud enough for the dragons to hear.
    She shook her head, watching Magnar. He appeared unaffected by Wallace’s clumsy dissembling. His drilling stare returned. Did he think she was hiding something in her brain, or had he guessed that she was concealing something physical? In fact, she was doing both, but who could tell what this dragon had learned?
    Magnar nodded at Elyssa’s trousers. “You have pockets.”
    She stealthily brushed her hand across her pocket, feeling the crystalline peg’s slight bulge. It was still there. “Yes. I have pockets.”
    “A human with pockets can never be trusted. That’s why we allow only the foremen to have them in the mines. I have been looking for something from the quarry for many years, and I cannot allow a slave to sneak it past our