The Dragonswarm by Aaron Pogue

had spared my life and stretched that blackness behind my soul.
    He belongs to me , the monster said, sparing my mind by its own restraint. I had no strength left to hold it off. By whatever trickery you have stolen his power, you have stolen it from me. Better for you if you had stolen more, for I can snuff you out like a pale ember.
    The monster turned away from me, its enormous tail flicking casually through the air above me with force enough to raze a city's walls. It climbed back to the top of its hoard, turned once in place, and settled down almost like a cat. It ended with its head resting on a spill of silver coins just above the stone floor and fixed baleful eyes on me.
    But you will make poor bait if you are dead , it said. So rest. And heal. I have use for you yet.
    I heard a beating of wings, felt the blast of air, and then a nightmare swarm of dragons came to tend to my needs.

5. In the Dragon's Lair
    There was no real sense of time in the dragon's lair. I felt hunger and thirst and exhaustion in waves, and none of them was ever satisfied. The dragons brought me meat too charred to recognize, and I devoured it despite the toothmarks and the dirt. They allowed me to leave my hole to drink from the pool that tasted like sulfur and ash. Apart from that they kept me in my cage and under watch.
    At first I tried my best to sleep—too exhausted to fight them by any other means—but I could scarcely rest in the heart of such a den of monsters. They scraped and thumped. They hissed and roared. Fire blasted and gold spilled. From time to time an adult dragon would dive into the pool with a screaming splash that sent heated water spilling all the way to my prison. Then the water would steam and hiss while the dragon rumbled a purr loud enough to shake the stone floor.
    It was a place of constant motion, an endless battle of primal forces, and every moment of it a stark reminder how small I was. Even the drakes were larger than me, fast and strong and fierce. The adult dragons could have carried me in one talon, and the huge red monster loomed over it all like a mountain.
    That monster was the worst. The rest of the beasts ignored me, even when they served me, but any time I fell beneath the monster's eyes I could feel its attention on me. It washed into my mind from time to time, too, pouring hot and slow like molten iron, pooling behind my thoughts and memories. It tore me from my dreams, it shattered my careful exercises, it always came without warning. Every time I had to fight to keep from screaming. I had to fight to keep my sanity.
    It spoke to me too. It taunted me. Such a pretty girl , it said, the first time it ripped me from uneasy rest. I have seen that girl somewhere before .
    I only lay on my side on the cold stone, eyes straining wide and heart hammering, and fought to raise my defenses. While I did, the monster washed among my memories. I saw Isabelle again as I'd seen her in my dream, begging me to come back home. That memory dissolved, replaced with one of her riding with me out to the ruined fortress, telling me about her lands. And then one of her walking with me in her father's garden. Of her listening in fascination as I tried to describe life at the Academy. Of her waiting, bold and beautiful, outside the door to the king's study on the day we first met.
    Those memories crashed against my will, bright and clear, more precious to me than all the treasure in the monster's hoard. I wanted to wrap them around me and get lost in them, but I could feel the writhing thread of the monster's malicious curiosity as it dredged them up, one after the other. It was looking for her. It was studying her.
    So I fought my favorite memories. I forced them away along with the dragon's presence in my head. It took every last gasp of determination, but in the end I won the battle. I built my corner of careful, empty control and watched the memory fade away like a dream. Then I blinked my eyes clear and rose to stare up