“You can let him go now,” Elizabeth said to Dreqnir, who dropped Nigel’s rigid form unceremoniously and watched it clang to the ground like a silver tray. His mouth was still agape and his eyes wide in what had become a perpetual look of astonishment. The master of time had been mastered by time.
Dreqnir turned to the guards. “Where is she?” he demanded in a booming voice. “Take us to the real Dragon Queen!”
...
Illian had dropped the pretense. Her spear was no longer at Elizabeth’s back; instead, she was using it to herd the guard who had “volunteered” to take them to the Dragon Queen. The other guards they passed in the catacombs didn’t dare confront them; Dreqnir made sure of that. Any who dared raise spear or sword against them found their weapons burned and melted by a blast of dragon fire.
They found the Dragon Queen—the real Dragon Queen—in a massive dungeon blocked by a giant rock. It had been sealed by a form of magic, so even Dreqnir couldn’t move it. Fortunately, the guard they had conscripted to their cause knew the spell that was needed to release it, much as a combination releases the lock to a safe. He resisted at first, but when Elizabeth pulled out the pocketwatch and showed it to him, he relented: He clearly had no desire to share his master’s fate.
“How long will he remain like that?” Illian had asked when they’d left Nigel lying there.
Elizabeth had shrugged. She had no idea. She only hoped the effect would last long enough for them to find the Dragon Queen, locate King Nicholas, and make their escape.
Once inside, Dreqnir embraced his mother and introduced her to Elizabeth and Illian. Her proper name, they found out, was Queen Taradreq, and she was extremely grateful to be rescued from her confinement. She was even more grateful to see her son, who she had feared was lost to her when Tar Kidron had used their bond to force him into servitude. It had been years since the two had seen each other, and, in fact, it had been Dreqnir’s bond to Tar Kidron that had led to Taradreq’s captivity. Nigel had appeared to her and had threatened harm Dreqnir if she resisted. He had pledged to release her son from his bond with Tar Kidron, but instead had imprisoned her here, beneath this mountain.
“Do you know where King Nicholas has been taken?” Elizabeth asked.
The queen shook her head. “I have seen nothing of this place, save for the inside of this cell.”
“Then perhaps it is time to do some exploring,” Dreqnir said with a wink.
Illian smiled broadly. “I can be your guide.”
...
Chapter Eighteen
Fire in the Sky
Elizabeth awoke to what sounded like a distant ringing in her ears. Ringing? Not quite. It sounded less like a bell and more like something else. It was so faint, however, that she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She shook her head, and it seemed to abate.
She groaned as she sat up straight. Even as young as she was, her muscles ached after a night of “rest” on solid rock, and she was homesick for her own bed. How long had it been since she’d slept there? She’d lost count of the days amid the unending darkness—if days even had any meaning here. They’d caught a few hours of shuteye in a dark recess Illian had shown them; the guards passed by it but either ignored it or didn’t realize it was there.
Elizabeth had hoped the darkness might abate once Nigel was frozen in time, but she had no such luck: Carol had been right in saying that the evernight was something more pernicious than even “Father Time” could summon.
The girl, the spearmaiden and the two dragons had made their way through the passages inside the mountain. Guards and soldiers buzzed this way and that; it was clear from their nervousness and the words exchanged between them that news of their master’s “condition” had spread. If they stopped long enough to take note of the four travelers, the sight of two large dragons was enough to make them look the other way. They were entirely in disarray, uncertain of what to do or where to go without Lord Nigel’s guidance.
Illian, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly where she was going. It helped, of course, that Elizabeth held a magical map and compass, but the map was of little use in such close quarters, so it was up to Illian to navigate the tunnels and keep the compass needle pointing forward. Speaking of close quarters, they had to take the long way around more than once in order to find tunnels large enough for the two dragons to pass. It had been enough of a challenge traveling with Dreqnir, but Taradreq’s frame was even larger.
Despite several detours, they finally found their way out of the mountain, stepping through a massive oaken door and out onto a high plateau that stretched away from the side of the mountain.
The plateau was covered with snow—more of it than Elizabeth had ever seen this close, even at the North Pole.
Her feet felt colder than they ever had before. She wondered why at first, but then she understood: They were standing on a glacier. She moved slightly and felt her feet slip, then she slid and tumbled unceremoniously backward onto her posterior.
“Careful,” said Dreqnir.
“Little late for that,” Illian quipped, smirking.
The girl scowled, dusted off her backside and rose to her feet. She looked up at the night sky, bejeweled with countless twinkling stars, and found some comfort in seeing the Revontulet—the Northern Lights—off in the distance once again. It occurred to her that the evernight was keeping the glacier ice from melting even a little, preserving it in the absence of the sunlight that would typically warm it.
The good news was that a near-full moon was out, and its light reflected off the ice to provide a clear view of what lay before them: the balloon city. They had descended a bit within the mountain and found themselves much closer to it now, looking straight across at it rather than down from near the summit.
Elizabeth glanced at the compass: It pointed straight ahead. Reaching up, she adjusted her spectacles to magnify the scene before her. The balloon ships, tethered to the plateau, floated silently on a lagoon of air, bobbing up and down in a slight, chill breeze. Few people seemed to be out and about; but Elizabeth saw a lone figure ahead of them running—and occasionally slip-sliding—across the glacier a short distance ahead of them, moving toward the ship-city.
It was one of the guards from inside the mountain.
He finally came to a stop at a gangplank that connected the plateau to the nearest ship, where he started speaking and gesturing frantically to a crew member who had strolled up to meet him.
“They’re relaying the news of Nigel’s... predicament,” Dreqnir said.
Elizabeth turned to him, puzzled.
“We dragons have exceptional ears,” he explained. “We can hear the first tiny icefall from miles away, before it becomes an avalanche.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Taradreq chided, but there was laughter behind her mock-serious tone.
Dreqnir, however, did not share her tone. “Exaggeration has helped keep us alive, Mother. Would-be enemies who think us more fearsome than we are tend to keep their distance.”
Taradreq changed her tone to match his earnestness. “As do would-be friends. Elizabeth and Illian are our friends, are they not?”
Dreqnir stayed silent, but Elizabeth felt something that seemed like embarrassment through the heart-gem.
The girl kept her eyes on what was happening aboard the ship. The guard stepped aboard, and the crew member who had met him dashed away, disappearing though a door that led belowdecks. Within moments, the sleepy ship became a hive of activity, which spread like wildfire to the other ships anchored near the mountain.
“We must hurry,” said Taradreq. “They know something’s wrong, and they will be scrambling to weigh anchor and depart. Thieves and swindlers do not like anything that brings them attention, and they will want to find a safer haven than one where the master is... indisposed.”
“Are you sure King Nicholas is aboard those ships?” asked Illian.
“The needle is pointing that way,” said Elizabeth. “But I don’t know. He
could be farther away, on the other side of the valley. I don’t know how to tell.”
“He’s there,” said Dreqnir. “I can smell him.”
“Don’t tell me dragons have a heightened sense of smell, too,” said Illian.
“Actually, we do,” the dragon said. “But in this case, it’s a figure of speech. I was bound to Tar Kidron for many years. I learned how he thinks, and because he was Nigel’s lieutenant, I know how ‘Father Time’ thinks, as well.” He nodded toward the ship in front of them, then looked at Elizabeth. “That ship is a slaver’s ship, isn’t it?”
Elizabeth nodded. It was the same ship she had seen from above—the one where they had been auctioning people on a podium. The thought of it disgusted her.
“I thought so. It’s configured to accommodate people, not just crated goods, belowdecks. And I can smell the scent of them, even this far away.” He sneered. “Slavers are not known for taking good care of the men and women they’ve abducted.”
“I can vouch for that,” Taradreq said. “But how do you know King Nicholas is aboard?”
Dreqnir frowned. “Lord Nigel does not merely covet his brother’s throne, he resents and even despises him. Nothing would please him more than to reduce him to the lowest state possible. And who is lower than a slave?”
“Slavery has outlawed for years in England,” said Elizabeth. “Even the Americans have ended it. How is it still practiced here?”
“Illegally,” Dreqnir snorted. “And the Americans haven’t really ended slavery. They still jail and shun and scorn people because of the color of their skin. They still make poor people work in sweatshops and call it an ‘honest living.’ There’s nothing honest about it, and it isn’t living. It’s barely even surviving.”
“I hope the twentieth century is better,” said Elizabeth.
“We shall see,” said Dreqnir. He did not sound hopeful.
“Do you think they will take Nicholas to America?” said Illian.
Dreqnir shook his head. “No one knows. Once slaves are taken aboard these ships, no one knows where they end up. The sky pirates make it almost impossible to track them. They change their names and demand that they forget their past, on pain of torture to the point of death. It’s highly effective.”
“Then we have to hurry,” said Elizabeth.
“Didn’t I just say that?” Taradreq put in.
“What do you suggest, Mother?” asked Dreqnir. “We have been relying on the element of surprise since we arrived, and we nearly got ourselves captured.”
The Dragon Queen nodded and bared her teeth. Elizabeth couldn’t tell whether it was a smile or a look of menace.
“I suggest,” she said, “we make an entrance!”
...
Illian climbed aboard Taradreq, Elizabeth fastened herself into the sleigh on Dreqnir’s back, and the two dragons took to the sky. There was no hiding now amid the bright moonlight, and in no time at all, the people scurrying about on the air ships below had caught sight of them.
They began to scurry all the more.
Cries of “Dragon!” and “Sky demon!” and “Ahoy! Look up!” filled the air.
The dragons didn’t stay aloft for long. They descended like blazing comets toward the ship, announcing their approach with bursts of fire from mouths and nostrils before landing with a thud that splintered timbers on the deck, which sagged beneath their substantial weight. Crew members scrambled away, seeking refuge on masts and belowdecks; the few that stood their ground with broadswords retreated when the dragons turned to face them.
“Where is King Nicholas?” Illian demanded.
“Who wants to know?”
They turned at the sound of the voice behind them and found themselves facing a man of swarthy complexion with thick, wavy black hair and a full black beard. He wasn’t particularly tall—no taller than Illian—or physically impressive: He stooped a little and had a paunch for a belly. But his eyes flashed strangely between ice blue and fire red, giving an impression of ire and volatility.
“His friends,” said Elizabeth.
“Who you don’t want as your enemies,” Dreqnir added.
The black-haired man didn’t seem daunted or even particularly impressed. He leaned casually against a mast that rose up to the huge balloon overhead, crossing his feet and pretending to look intently at his drawn sword.
“And who are you?” asked Illian. “A thief? A pirate.”
“Yes and yes,” the man said, not bothering to look up from the sword. “A particularly skilled one, if I do say so myself, and the captain of this vessel on top of that. Welcome to my ship, the Tranquility.”
“You’re a pirate, then,” said Taradreq.
“In a manner of speaking, although I prefer to think of myself as an entrepreneur and something of a philanthropist.”
“A philanthropist?” Dreqnir snorted. “You captain a slave ship full of prisoners!”
“I was a prisoner myself once—the thanks I received for my philanthropy.” He raised an eyebrow, then winked and grinned. Whatever he had endured, it seemed to have driven him mad. Or maybe that was just what he wanted them to think. “I planned the greatest heist of my career to benefit all of humankind. I succeeded—I always do—but had the misfortune of being discovered by the owner of the ‘artifact’ I plundered. When he got his hands on me, he had me chained to a rock and left at the mercy of the elements. It was only after many years that I was rescued.
“But the humans who profited from my charity never sought to ease my pain, so I determined not to allay theirs, either. I do not ‘own’ the slaves aboard my ship; they belong to other businessmen, who pay me well to take them here and there. They might as well be shipping silk or olive oil, for all I care. It is none of my concern. It is an honest exchange: my services for their gold. Some would find it more honorable than thievery, even theft for the sake of charity.”
He was crazy, Elizabeth thought. She supposed that being chained to a rock and left out in the open for years might drive a man to madness, but knowing this hardly lessened her disgust. How could a self-proclaimed “philanthropist” captain a slave ship without any apparent shame? How could anyone dismiss his own role in such a heartless enterprise so casually?
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Judge me if you will. It is no concern of mine. I have been judged a thousand times by creatures far more powerful than you.”
“We shall see about that,” Taradreq said, her voice low and menacing.
The thief just laughed.
“What is this artifact you stole?” asked Dreqnir.
“Oh, you will find out soon enough,” said the thief.
“Enough of your games,” the younger dragon said. He was clearly growing tired of the thief’s cool audacity. “Where is King Nicholas?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” said the thief. “I am bound by a contract with my client.”
“I’m afraid,” Dreqnir mocked, “you will have to tell us that.”
“Or what?”
“Or this!” Dreqnir opened his mouth and blew hard just above the thief’s head. It wasn’t intended to hurt him, just to get his attention. The flames, he thought, might singe his hair a little, but he had it coming.
To his stunned surprise, however, nothing came out. Just hot air. No fire.
Chagrined, Dreqnir took a deep breath and blew again—with the same disappointing result.
Taradreq followed suit.
Nothing happened.
“Looking for something?” the thief teased. Then he balled up something in his fist and flung it suddenly at Dreqnir.
The fireball appeared and coalesced abruptly out of nowhere. Flying like a sparkling orange pinwheel through the air, it struck Dreqnir squarely in his chest and knocked him backward onto the deck.
Illiana raised her spear and flung it at the thief, but her target simply hurled another fireball at the weapon. The two projectiles met in midair, and the spear disintegrated into ash, leaving the sh
arp obsidian point to fall and rattle around on the deck.
“This will teach you to stand against Captain Prometheus!” the thief shouted gleefully.
Elizabeth had learned about Prometheus in her studies. He was a Greek titan who had, according to legend, stolen fire from Zeus in heaven and given it to humanity. For his trouble, he had been chained to a rock and sentenced to have his liver eaten by an eagle. The girl had found that part of the story rather disgusting, but she had always considered it just a story. Until now. It looked, to all appearances and against all odds, that this Captain Prometheus, whether he was the titan himself or a namesake, had succeeded in stealing fire from both the dragons.
He threw another fireball, this one at Taradreq, who tumbled backward and nearly off the ship.
Fortunately, the thief was all but ignoring Elizabeth, probably thinking she was too small to pose a threat. Sensing an opportunity, she reached frantically inside her coat and fumbled for the Pearly Pocketwatch. If she could use it against this mad thief the way she had used it against Lord Nigel, perhaps she could keep this from getting any worse. But instead of the pocketwatch, her fingers found the compass, which she proceeded to fumble in front of her on the deck.
This attracted the thief’s notice, and he turned his attention toward her at last. Rearing back, he let fly a fireball straight in her direction—just as the girl bent down to retrieve the compass.
The fireball sailed directly over her head...
...and exploded into a thousand sparks against the mast directly behind her.
The mast, of course, was made of wood.
And wood, of course, is flammable.
So, unsurprisingly, it caught fire. One might have thought that Prometheus, being both the captain of a wooden ship and a wielder of fireballs, might have known the danger of unleashing such weapons at this proximity to flammable elements. Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. Maybe he simply wasn’t thinking. But whatever the case, the cool, unflappable expression on his face changed to one of alarm when he saw the flames catch hold on the mast and start licking their way upward toward the balloon.
The Talismans of Time (Academy of the Lost Labyrinth Book 1) Page 16
