by Liz Flanagan
‘We’re proud of you,’ his father repeated, blinking hard and clearing his throat, ‘whatever happens today.’
Joe’s mother flicked a tear from her cheek. ‘Oh, look at me! I’ll spoil this silk, and it’s not even the ceremony yet.’ She sniffed loudly and wiped her face on her husband’s shirt sleeve.
‘Go on, I’ll be down in a moment. We won’t be late – promise!’ Joe turned away to hide his face as it hit him: if today went well, he would never live under his parents’ roof again. He’d been so busy thinking of his dragon, he’d forgotten that part. With another pang he realised he was ready for it all: ready to grow up and leave his home behind, ready to make his parents really proud, and, most definitely, ready for his dragon.
CHAPTER TWO
The island of Arcosi was abuzz. Humming with life like a giant anthill. Bells rang out, echoing up and down the steep twisting streets, summoning everyone to the marketplace near the harbour for the hatching ceremony.
Joe and the other Potentials gathered in a shady street just above the marketplace, waiting to be summoned. They were busy saying goodbye to their parents, under the watchful eyes of four dragonguards.
‘Good luck, Joe.’ His mother hugged him tightly, speaking into his ear. She pulled back and stroked his hair, where it always stuck up at the front.
He could see she wanted to say more, but he turned away, towards his father, who was searching for Isak and Tarya in the crowd. He noticed with a twinge of worry how old his father looked, leaning on his cane, his white hair bright in the sunlight.
‘Bye, Dad.’ Joe got in first with a quick hug. ‘You’d better go down: don’t lose your seats.’
Nestan nodded. ‘We’ll find you, afterwards.’
Afterwards. When, just maybe, he would be holding his dragon! Joe tried to picture that: a wriggling purple hatchling in his arms. His excitement built even further.
He watched his parents walk down to take their places in the hot, crowded marketplace below. There were no stalls today. Instead, the tiers were packed with people in steep rows, as if they were in a theatre, about to watch a play. Ceremonial flags fluttered, showing the symbols of Arcosi and Sartola. And there in the centre, like a stage, an empty sunlit circle waited for the dragons and the eggs to arrive. Joe’s stomach started tangling itself in knots of anticipation.
‘Joe!’
He turned to see his friends rushing towards him, also wearing white. They must have arrived earlier. He was glad they were all Potentials together.
‘Happy birthday!’ That was Amina, fizzing with energy, pushing her way towards him, wearing a new white headscarf to match the robes.
‘Amina!’ The day seemed even brighter to Joe suddenly.
Conor followed more slowly, and gave him a light shove. ‘Just cos it’s your birthday, doesn’t mean you’ll get the first dragon, all right?’
‘Course not!’ Joe grinned at Conor. ‘But I might!’
‘Potentials!’ A dragonguard called them all to attention. ‘The eggs will be arriving soon. Not long now: be patient and get in position.’
‘Ah, this bit takes longer than you think,’ Amina said impatiently, shuffling and bouncing on her toes. ‘I remember from the last ceremony. They daren’t rush the carriage in case they jolt the eggs. There’s time to give you your presents!’
‘Now?’ Joe said. ‘But they’re about to call us through.’ Nothing else mattered, next to that.
‘Nah, last time they took ages,’ Conor said. ‘Happy birthday, Joe.’ He took a bundle from his pocket and passed it over. ‘Careful. Don’t lose your thumb. I know how clumsy you are, mate.’
Joe unwrapped a soft leather pouch. He opened it and took out a small knife with a bone handle carved with a dragon’s head pouring flame.
‘Me and my dad found it on a trading trip last winter,’ Conor said. ‘I’ve been saving it for you.’
‘Wow!’ Joe tested the blade on his thumb. ‘Ouch. It’s sharp!’ A red bubble of blood swelled up.
‘Told you, idiot,’ Conor teased.
‘Oi.’ Joe sheathed the blade and elbowed Conor.
‘He means thank you,’ Amina said.
‘Thank you, Conor. I do mean it.’ He tucked the knife carefully in the inside pocket of his white jacket.
‘My turn!’ Amina said, and took out a tiny parcel wrapped in purple silk. She handed it over. The sunlight turned her eyes amber-gold and made her brown skin glow against the pale scarf. Her smile was very wide and very white. She hugged him quickly and said, ‘I made it for you.’
‘Thank you.’ Joe was touched. The bundle fell open in a blur of jewel-bright colours. On the small piece of fabric was woven a purple dragon in flight against a background of deep blue, with a border of multi-coloured hexagonal shapes all interlinked.
Another purple dragon! It was a sign. ‘It’s amazing,’ he said. ‘Really!’
‘When did you get so good, Amina?’ Conor leaned over, sounding impressed.
‘I’ve been doing it in the evenings when the day’s work’s done.’
‘It must have taken ages!’ Joe said.
Amina’s cheeks grew rosy pink. ‘That blue, that’s made with indigo from the Silk Islands.’ Her family of weavers had come from there and settled on Arcosi a few generations back. ‘And I blended the red myself, from madder root …’
Joe folded it carefully, putting it in his other pocket. The day felt even more special. He wanted to say how lucky he was. How good it felt to have friends who knew him like Conor and Amina did. ‘You two! It’s … I’m … you know?’ The words failed him, and he just stood there grinning at them. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Conor said, grinning back.
‘Five minutes!’ the dragonguard yelled at them. ‘Final positions, please!’
In silence, they all stared towards the end of the street. They’d rehearsed for this. They knew what would happen, but it was still awe-inspiring.
Every head turned to watch the procession of dragons and the egg-carriage rolling slowly down the wide main street that circled the island like a snake.
Joe caught a glimpse of Ravenna, the mother dragon, striding just in front of the dragonguards pulling the carriage. As she passed the end of the street, she filled the gap entirely. Joe saw her black wings folded, her long scaly back, her claws sparking against the cobbles. As if she sensed him, she turned her huge head, glared at him through yellow eyes and hissed.
He gasped. He’d known mother dragons were protective, but it was a whole different matter when it was aimed at him.
There was no time left: they started walking too, following the procession down the main street. Joe looked over the heads of the others, realising he was the tallest one there.
Conor was in front of him, his red-brown curls blowing themselves into new tangles as they walked. Behind him was Amina, jigging with impatience.
Now Joe could see his brother and sister down in the middle of the marketplace. Half-siblings, really, but there were no half measures about it in Joe’s eyes. He adored them both.
His brother, Isak, was Head Dragonguard, famous for having read every book in the city library. Tall and calm, with white hair and black-rimmed eyeglasses, Isak stood now with the mother dragon and her covered clutch of eggs. They were circled by all the adult dragons on Arcosi – a dozen in total.
Next, his eyes fell on his sister, Tarya, standing next to her husband, Duke Vigo. Tarya was the island’s general, and she’d led its forces to victory in the revolution when Vigo had become duke, thirteen years earlier.
Joe noticed that his sister looked tired. Tarya’s wild blonde curls were plaited close against her scalp, in the dragonrider style. She wore her sword at her hip, her ceremonial armour and arm-guards. She’d always been his fierce, capable sister, but now her face was grey-white. They all knew the reason for this: she’d just announced her pregnancy. She bit her lip as if she was fighting sickness. His mother had told her it was normal and
she would start feeling stronger soon. Joe hoped for her sake that Tarya wouldn’t be sick right here – she’d hate that.
Next to Tarya stood Rosa, her second-in-command and old friend, with her huge orange dragon, Ando. Everyone expected Rosa to take over from the general while she cared for her new baby; some were surprised it hadn’t happened already.
‘Wait!’ the dragonguard with the Potentials called.
Joe and the others paused just outside the marketplace. Any moment now, the duke would start the ceremony, and then they would file into the empty space to take their positions.
He felt his whole body buzzing with excitement and impatience.
Just then someone wormed into the space between Joe and Amina, and leaned forward to murmur, ‘Feeling lucky, birthday boy?’
It was Noah, from Joe’s group at the city’s school, where all the children of Arcosi went for a few years at least. He was small and wiry, with a thin freckled face, and light brown hair that flopped over his eyes. He was also wearing the white clothes of a Potential.
‘What are you doing here?’ Joe’s heart sank. ‘I thought you hated the duke and my sister.’
Noah’s father had been one of the soldiers out of a job when the dragons came. He’d been killed last year in a street brawl, and Noah blamed Vigo and Tarya for taking away his father’s job, his pride and his life.
Joe and his friends had tried to be kind to Noah as he grieved, but he didn’t make it easy.
‘Yeah, so?’ Noah narrowed his eyes and glared in the duke’s direction. ‘Why should I miss out on a dragon?’
Conor and Amina exchanged a wary glance.
‘All right, Noah.’ Conor turned to the younger boy, saying mildly, ‘Well, it’s up to the dragons now, they will choose who they want.’
‘I’m a true Norlander, not a halfie like Joe, or incomers like you two. Of course a dragon will choose me.’
Before the revolution, under the old duke, people of Norlander descent had been the most privileged and wealthy.
‘Ah, no one cares about that now,’ Joe said, biting down a stronger retort. He’d inherited both his father’s blue eyes and his mother’s black hair, while his skin was light brown. Sometimes people guessed his ancestry wrong. But he’d never been insulted like this before, not to his face at least. ‘Halfie?’ he repeated, trying to laugh it off. ‘Did you think of that one?’ It sounded ridiculous.
‘That’s what you think!’ Noah said. ‘You just wait and—’
One of the dragonguards was coming over, frowning. They all fell silent. None of them wanted to be excluded. Not now, at the last possible moment.
‘What are they waiting for? Call us through already!’ Noah muttered when the dragonguard had moved on.
Joe peered forward to see what was happening.
Isak was speaking to the eggs’ mother, the fierce black dragon Ravenna, who was bonded to Lanys, the young woman who was hunched stiffly, scowling at them all.
Was there a problem? Joe studied Lanys: her freckled face was white with worry, purplish shadows under her eyes, auburn hair braided tightly back, tension in every muscle. He guessed it must be tough, watching your dragon incubating her clutch, unable to help, unable to go near her. Brooding mothers were dangerous, everyone knew that. Their protective instincts were powerful, and they would hurt or kill anyone who came too near their eggs.
There was a rumour that someone had once destroyed an egg in the early days of the return of the dragons. The mother dragon had reacted, lethally, before anyone could stop it. Looking at Ravenna, Joe realised with a shock that the other dragons were there to protect the Potentials, not the eggs.
Let us through, he thought as he looked at Lanys. Just let us bond with the baby dragons, and you can have your Ravenna back.
As if she heard him, Lanys turned and frowned more deeply at all the waiting Potentials.
Finally Isak stopped speaking to Ravenna, straightened up and raised his voice. ‘Welcome to the Sixth Hatching Ceremony of Duke Vigo’s reign …’
Applause rang out then, and cheers echoed around the marketplace.
This was it. The moment Joe had waited for all his life.
CHAPTER THREE
The time had come. Joe stood on his toes to see the dragon eggs revealed.
Duke Vigo stepped forward now. He looked serious and distant. Not the calm, kind man Joe knew from family gatherings. The duke’s deep voice carried right to the back of the crowd. ‘Citizens of Arcosi, guests from Sartola, I bid you most welcome.’
Everyone turned to look at Isak’s partner, Luca, the King of Sartola, who was standing in the front row beside Tarya. Luca smiled and nodded at this welcome, raising one hand to wave at the crowds.
‘We are fortunate to be blessed with this clutch,’ Duke Vigo went on. ‘As you know, this is a sacred ceremony, protected by law.’ The duke looked fierce as he spoke the formal warning, and there was total silence for a moment.
Joe wondered if this was aimed at the Brotherhood. He had a quick look round, but he couldn’t see anyone wearing black.
Then the duke smiled, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, and his face changed entirely: ‘Let the ceremony begin!’
Isak lifted the protective covering from the eggs.
There were five eggs! Joe counted and re-counted to be sure.
The whole marketplace was filled with a soft twittering of anticipation mixed with awe.
Five eggs. Ten Potentials. Half of them would be going to the dragonhall. Half would be going home miserable. Joe held his breath and prayed it wouldn’t be him, Conor or Amina.
There was a tawny-cream egg, a blue-green egg, a golden yellow and, unusually, two the same colour: both pale lilac. That was a kind of purple – not the deep purple from his dreams, exactly, but close enough.
I’m coming, he said silently to the eggs, to the dragons waiting inside.
Milla was standing in the front row behind her enormous blue dragon. She leaned round Iggie’s neck to smile at Joe and mouth at him, ‘Good luck!’
Still no one moved.
What was the delay? Joe rubbed his neck, feeling the sun hot on his skin. He started to itch with impatience. His face was on fire. He studied the crowd to calm himself and his gaze snagged on the only face looking stricken. It was Winter, one of the Dragonless. Her dragon had died two years ago in the Great Loss. Some of the Dragonless had died then too. Most had fled the island, unable to live with the constant reminders of what they’d lost. Only she remained.
There were rumours of a ghost in the ruined north-west quarter of the island – the shadow strip – but Joe’s parents always said it was just Winter, in her grey dress and dark cloak, emerging from the shadows and vanishing again.
Her mother still lived in the lower town, but Winter wandered the streets day and night, talking to her dead dragon, Jin. People were kind, steering her home, giving her food, but she was gaunt and ragged as a scarecrow, looking much older than her fourteen years.
Usually her grey eyes looked right through everyone. Today though, Winter’s gaze fell on Joe, and what Joe read there was too much to bear. He saw unimaginable pain, fathom-deep. He had to look away.
‘Potentials! Come and sit in a circle. Not too near. Give the eggs space.’ Isak was calling them forward, finally.
The crowd seemed to hold its breath then. All eyes were on them. Conor led the way.
Joe had forgotten how to walk. His whole body had turned to lead. He could feel the weight of everyone staring at him.
Amina nudged him forwards gently.
He started to move, hot and clumsy. He stepped on Conor’s heel, making him swear.
Then he halted abruptly, and Amina slammed into the back of him.
‘Joe! Not now,’ she whispered.
‘Sorry! Sorry!’ he muttered to them both, his heart racing.
Finally they were there, at the front. Ravenna growled lightly.
‘Spread out, a whole circle, no one any ne
arer than anyone else!’ Isak reminded them, pointing to their places. ‘Now sit!’
Joe sank down on legs that shook with excitement. He could feel the sweat trickling down his spine.
Amina sat very straight, solemn for once.
Conor looked lit up from within.
Joe cast a glance round the circle, checking the faces of his competition. They looked serious or eager or nervous. All except Noah, opposite, who was glaring at him.
Joe looked away, focusing on the eggs.
In the silence that followed, there came a distinct, crisp crack.
CHAPTER FOUR
The first dragon hatched from the blue-green egg. It poked its head out of the crack, a shiny dark green, and then suddenly it fell out, panting, as the egg broke in two. It looked like a small lizard, with an extra mass on its back, where its wings were folded up. Joe was on his knees, leaning forwards, listening hard. Come on, dragon, choose me! Here I am! he willed it, in spite of his dream. He didn’t mind what colour his dragon was. At other ceremonies, he’d seen children sing or whistle or call to a hatchling. He tried to tell if there was anything like that bubbling up in him. But he could only hear a dull buzz in his ears.
Then the oldest boy, Tiago, spoke from the other side of the circle. ‘Lina!’ he called out. ‘Li-na!’ His round open face was focused entirely on this dragon. He had a patchy beard on his cheeks and chin, and big brown eyes, brimming with tears.
Joe held his breath to see if he was bluffing. But no. The little green dragon sprang to life at his call and tried to respond in the same rhythm.
Isak made his judgement: ‘Tiago, you may go to Lina. Feed her. Keep her warm.’
Joe felt it in his chest, as if he’d been winded.
Four eggs left.
The creamy-brown egg hatched next. A tiny little hole was chipped out of the top. He could see the dragon’s egg-tooth – the little bump on the top of its nose – tapping through from inside.
This time, it was the smallest of all of them: Flavia, a tiny Sartolan girl a few places over to Joe’s left, who looked barely old enough to be here. She had skinny sparrow legs and enormous eyes, with black hair cropped short to her neck. She sang out to the baby dragon, a surprisingly deep, trilling song. And even before it had fully emerged, this dragon stuck its head out of its eggshell and chirruped back.
