by Liz Flanagan
‘You talking about me?’ Yannic bellowed in Joe’s ear, making him jump.
‘Good evening,’ he said wearily, noticing that Yannic had crept in to eavesdrop on them before he announced himself.
‘News!’ Yannic went on. ‘Well, that was illuminating. A day with the Brotherhood is always a joy.’
‘You’re drunk!’ Tiago said accusingly, as the whiff of unwashed flesh and old rum floated across to them.
‘I had to join in, didn’t I? Would’ve stood out like a sore thumb if I suddenly gave up the grog.’
‘So, what did you learn?’ Joe stroked Ren’s back as she leaned on him, listening intently.
‘There is some good news.’ Yannic waited.
Winter crossed her arms and said, ‘Go on then, tell us?’
‘They’re going to hold a feast tonight – they usually last till dawn. And I know where they keep the barrels of rum. How about a little light tampering? A few rotten rats to spice their drink? They won’t be able to move tomorrow, and they can blame it on the bad food.’
‘How can we be sure they won’t notice?’ Conor said. ‘I’d notice if someone gave me dead rat juice.’
‘Here’s the thing,’ Yannic said gleefully. ‘They’re getting restless. Insecure, you might say. Surprise, surprise: power isn’t quite the easeful dream they was hoping for, what with people objecting to, y’know, the murder of cityfolk and dragons.’
‘And? Get to the point,’ Tiago said.
Yannic gave them a wide grin. ‘Morale is shaky, to say the least. There will be lots of drinking and rousing Norlander drinking songs.’
Joe remembered the meeting he’d sneaked into: how he’d sung along, how he’d almost been tempted to join them, till he heard their true beliefs.
‘The youngest soldiers are skittish and scared. They’ll throw gallons down their throats, not notice a thing. They are ready to fall apart, oh yes.’ Yannic rubbed his hands. ‘Right. Now I need to get back before they miss me.’
They watched him wobble away, back towards the tunnel entrance.
‘I can’t believe we’re trusting him,’ Tiago said in the silence that followed.
‘It’ll be fine, trust me instead,’ Joe said. He knew Yannic wouldn’t let them down, now he understood his thirst for revenge. The same impulse was pushing him onwards, keeping his focus steady.
The next day was strange and hot. From the moment he woke, Joe felt nervous. To calm himself, he talked to Ren. She’d slept pressed up against his side, her body almost as long as his when she stretched out.
‘Morning, you.’ Her head resting on his chest was heavy these days, and her warm breath smelled smokily of cinders and charred meat.
She opened one golden eye and her left ear twitched as he murmured to her.
‘Can you spare me again, just for an hour? I need to work on our backup plan. You stay here with Winter and Fidell?’
Now Ren retreated from him, and curled up small, her wings folded, her ears flat on her purple scaly head. She could make herself surprisingly compact when she was unhappy.
‘I’m sorry, but there’s one other thing I also need to do.’ Joe leaned over, stroking her scales.
Mraa, she said softly. She raised her head and looked at him through those golden oval eyes.
He felt terrible. ‘I’m doing this for us,’ he whispered, ‘to make our island safe again. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
She blinked once and he took that as reluctant agreement.
‘Ren?’ Winter called, stretching out her hand. ‘Would you like to join me and Fidell?’
Ren slunk over and let herself be cuddled, while Winter dug out scraps of dried meat from her pockets for both shadow dragons.
Joe left without looking back, while Ren was distracted. He knew the tunnels well enough now not to need his map. He used the western beach entrance and crept past the warehouses into the dock area.
He had only seen Arcosi like this once before, on Hatching Day. The busy harbour and the surrounding streets were almost empty, baking in the hot morning sun. The heat radiated up from the earth. He wore the plain old clothes that he’d grabbed on his visit home – nothing to connect him to dragons – and his shirt was soon sticking to his back with sweat.
Each street corner had a couple of black-clad members of the Brotherhood, nervously shifting from foot to foot like a pair of crows.
He had to walk straight past two of them. One looked only a bit older than Joe, so he couldn’t have been one of the old duke’s men – he would have been a young child in the last war. This young recruit had red-rimmed eyes, Joe noticed, and his skin looked waxy yellow. He was sweating visibly as he struggled to hold a sword that was too big for him.
Joe kept his eyes down. He didn’t want to be recognised. There were ordinary people around, but they hurried along in twos and threes. No one was out alone, except him.
He made it past the Brotherhood’s men, and circled the deserted marketplace next. There were no stalls out today. How were people feeding themselves? Food supplies must be getting low in every single house. The island felt like a keg of firepowder, ready to blow.
Just a little longer, Joe thought, just till tonight.
Even the harbour was almost empty: a handful of fishing boats tugging gently at their moorings and a merchant vessel, which must have docked without knowing the news. It would soon be on its way, he was sure.
Joe waited in the shade of a warehouse at the edge of the dock area. The blue sea was sparkling and dancing, as if nothing had changed. Before long, Joe saw a fishing boat heading for its usual mooring. It was the Dolphin, and he recognised the old man at the helm as Simeon Windlass, Thom’s father. Joe hoisted himself up, palmed three gold coins and wandered out into the light.
He leaned on the harbour rail, whistling tunelessly, staring off into the far distance. He was aware of a curious glance from a pair of black-clad men, but he held his nerve and waited, waited, waited.
The sun felt hot on his face. Seagulls gathered in a screaming cloud above Simeon’s boat, waiting for their chance.
As soon as the soldiers’ attention was diverted, Joe started walking along the worn stones that edged the deep harbour, heading towards the Dolphin.
He paused by Simeon’s boat and pretended to drop something. He bent down, so that his head was level with Simeon, working on deck.
‘Simeon,’ he greeted him.
Startled, Simeon examined Joe with his bright blue gaze.
‘Thom asked you to tell Isak that I survived, didn’t he? I’ll always be grateful to you for that.’
The old man nodded.
‘I need your help again,’ Joe told him.
Simeon waited, keeping his hands busy as he listened.
‘Where are Thom and Milla?’ Joe whispered, keeping his eyes on the men of the Brotherhood now, to check they weren’t watching.
‘They went to look at that volcano.’ Simeon followed Joe’s lead, not looking up as they spoke in whispers. ‘Thom was getting worried about it.’
Joe cursed. He’d been counting on Milla’s help. ‘Please can you get word to my brother on Sartola again? Tell the dragonriders to return – this evening?’
‘You’re fighting them?’ Simeon’s tone told him exactly what he thought of the Brotherhood.
‘Yes, and we’ll need all our dragons to join in, sunset tonight.’ He explained their plan.
‘Aye.’ Simeon nodded once. ‘I’ll just unload this catch. Since this lot crept out of the gutter, they take it all off me, no payment. That’s reason enough to go straight back out, and I’ll go direct to your brother.’
‘Here, for your trouble. And in case anyone needs persuading to join us.’ Joe put the gold coins on the stone slab and walked away, just as a new group of black-clad men came to seize Simeon’s catch.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Simeon’s hand shoot out, grab the coins and return to unloading his crates, without a break in the rhythm.
He trusted Simeon, and he trusted Isak and Luca, but he had no way of knowing if they’d be able to reach them in time.
No, Joe and his friends were alone, putting all their faith in a man who wore the old duke’s black uniform. He prayed that his plans would work. His sister’s life depended on it. And the duke’s. And their child’s.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
As the day wore on, the strange unreal feeling grew stronger, a mixture of dread and fear and determination. They had to do this, Joe was certain. But he also knew the risks. This could be his last day with Ren, so he spent as much of it as possible talking to her, soothing her, telling her what they planned.
‘We’re going to free the duke’s soldiers,’ Joe whispered to Ren. ‘So they can fight back.’
With her deep purple scales, she blended into the darkness, but her eyes were like little mirrors, reflecting the lamplight, and they widened as she listened.
‘It’s going to be dangerous, but I can’t see there’s any other choice.’
The cavern felt warmer than usual. Its air was muggy and full of murmuring anticipation as the children prepared themselves to leave, covering their clothes with the black fabric that Amina had brought from home to help them stay hidden.
Winter came over to speak to Joe. Her face was composed and serious. ‘Joe, I’m sorry, about before. You were right. I was just so scared, and I couldn’t lose Fidell, not after …’
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I understand. You’re braver than anyone I know, risking this, after everything.’
‘I still haven’t decided about today,’ Winter told Joe next. ‘I don’t want to take Fidell up there, in case he gets hurt, but … but … I don’t want to leave him either!’
Before Joe could answer, Ren made her feelings clear. She nipped his hand – not quite drawing blood – blocked his way, then burrowed her head under his jacket.
‘Ow, Ren! What did you do that for?’ Joe was hurt.
‘Hmm. I don’t think she wants to be left behind again, Joe,’ Conor said, seeing what had happened. Ariel was already positioned next to him, ready to leave.
Joe took a deep breath. ‘All right, Ren. If you don’t want to be left, you’ll just have to come along.’
‘Are you sure? She’s never been aboveground before!’ Winter said. ‘Nor has Fidell!’
‘Her choice, I think,’ Joe said. ‘Ren, would you rather come along, or stay here and wait for me? If you come, you have to be quiet and do as I say.’
Ren pulled her head out, raising herself tall so her head was level with Joe’s, and chittered softly. She understood. It was a risk, but so was every choice he made right now.
‘We go together,’ he said firmly. And he shouldered his way through to lead everyone through the tunnels with his dragon by his side.
Fidell made the same choice, padding along next to Winter as if he really was her shadow. Winter had one hand resting on his neck, as if she were glad not to be parted from him after all. Joe could see her lips moving as she spoke to Fidell under her breath.
The heat of the tunnels seemed to increase as they filed silently through them. Joe could feel Ren walking close against his hip. The deep comfort and strength he drew from her presence was plaited tight with terror that anything might happen to her. All his senses seemed heightened with tension. He could feel the coarse texture of the tunnel walls, the way it snagged on his sleeve and grazed his fingertips. The familiar weight of his father’s compass in his pocket felt reassuring, like a link to his past. The noises were subdued: occasional whispers, the steady tramp of their boots and sandals on the sandy rock.
And then relief, as the cool air hit Joe’s face, smelling of damp earth and straw and horses, as he poked his head out of the little iron gate behind the palace stable block to find no one there waiting for him.
‘This is for you, Dad,’ Joe whispered quietly, climbing out and putting it all in motion.
They’d gone over their plan, time after time, till everyone knew it by heart, scrawling pictures in the sandy earth of the cavern to show where they would hide. To the north-east of the palace, beyond the stables, sprawled the barracks: rows of low brick buildings, the bunkhouses and the burned-out armoury. A shadowy figure peeled itself away from the side of the armoury: Yannic, there to meet them.
Joe felt his world shrink to this: his breath coming fast, his feet moving across damp grass.
Winter and Fidell were fastest – they sprinted ahead, searching for patrols, greeting Yannic as they passed him.
Their courage gave Joe speed and strength. ‘I hope your idea worked,’ he whispered to Yannic as the man fell in at his side.
‘Trust me,’ Yannic muttered back. ‘They’ve been puking since daybreak. Weak as kittens they’ll be.’
Joe didn’t reply. So far he had no actual evidence that trusting Yannic was the right thing to do. Just how good an actor was he? They might be running into a trap.
If Ren found the new environment strange, she didn’t show it. She kept up with Joe and didn’t make a sound.
He stole a quick glance left. Conor ran lightly, with Ariel gliding silently next to him. Conor, who’d never won a fight in his life, daring to join this attack. And Amina, to his right. She was an artist, not a warrior. They were his best friends and they believed in him, even if it meant risking their lives.
‘Stop! Down.’ Yannic gestured as they circled and came to the edge of the barracks where the rows of huts were tightly packed in the flat circle of land.
They all crept low, with their dragons following, crawling right into some bushes to the rear of the buildings.
Winter and Fidell were there already. ‘No patrols,’ she said softly. ‘Just a few guards.’
They peered out through the upper leaves. Joe kept one hand on Ren’s back. The moon was hidden behind a bank of cloud, but its milky light spilled out and bleached the night blue and grey. Joe strained his eyes. It looked as if there was a guard pacing at each doorway, but he couldn’t tell if there were more hiding behind the long low buildings.
‘See, as I said,’ Yannic whispered. ‘A guard for each building.’
They’d agreed that Yannic would stroll out and cause a diversion. ‘Stay low, you lot,’ he told them, getting ready to move. ‘If we mess it up, hide till you can flee to your tunnels and don’t look back. Got it?’
They would work in pairs: Joe and Winter; Amina and Conor; Flavia and Tiago.
Yannic crawled on his belly in the opposite direction, till he reached the cover of some trees. Then he stood up and strolled out into the moonlight, as if he’d come from the palace. He called out in Norlandish, ‘Evening, Brothers, in the name of the lost duke.’
The greeting was returned by the nearest of the guards. ‘What you doing here?’ he added. ‘Did Asa send you?’
In reply, Yannic belched, undid his trousers and relieved himself in a long stream, with a loud sigh.
It worked. The guards relaxed. One jeered, others swore at him, a few laughed.
The children circled the bunkhouses, Joe taking the east side of one, Winter the west. They paused for a moment, hiding in the shadows.
‘There’s some of that fine rum left from last night,’ Yannic was calling out. He buttoned himself up and started singing a bawdy drinking song, swaying as he moved slowly towards the first pair of guards.
The Brotherhood joined in, their voices filling the night air.
This was the signal.
The children attacked.
Joe flung himself forwards with his knife lifted, not sure he’d be able to use it.
The guard faced him. As he saw Joe coming, he swore and tried to draw his sword, but Winter jumped on him from behind, her strong fingers clutching at his throat. The man made a horrible choking noise.
Ren and Fidell darted in, biting his stomach and legs.
Joe reversed his knife and used its bone handle to bash the guard’s temple, hard. The man crumpled onto the damp grass. He
moaned once, filling Joe with relief that he was still alive.
He twisted round, checking for danger. In front of the furthest bunkhouse, a body slumped, sprawling out into the moonlight, with a dark patch of pooling liquid by its head. He couldn’t see who it was and prayed it wasn’t one of his friends.
‘Joe, the lock! Hurry,’ Winter urged him.
If they could just open one of the bunkhouses and free the duke’s soldiers trapped inside, the Brotherhood would be outnumbered.
Joe knelt and peered at the fastening – it was secured with two heavy iron padlocks. The Brotherhood had spared no expense. He could do this, he told himself. He bent low, fitting the tip of his knife into the first keyhole. He closed his eyes, shutting everything else out. Forcing himself to work methodically, he felt for each tooth of the lock, letting out a sigh when the iron bar clicked open.
He took the first padlock off and threw it down, reaching for the second. He was so focused on his task he didn’t notice the approach from behind them till it was too late.
There was the familiar leathery flap of huge dragon wings, and for a moment Joe’s heart leaped in hope. ‘Isak? Is that you?’ Then he felt the draught and heard the crunch as the dragon finished its low glide, touching down behind the bunkhouse.
But this dragon was the wrong colour: it blended with the shadows, glaring down at Joe through cruel amber eyes. And two figures jumped off its back: a boy his age and a young woman in dragonrider clothes, all black. He knew her by that scowl of disapproval – Lanys, from the last Hatching Day. So the dragon was Ravenna, the mother of Maric and Ariel and the others. Another smaller dragon landed next to him, yellow in colour.
‘Guess again, Thornsen.’
It couldn’t be! Not again. ‘Noah!’
Joe spun round, searching for shelter, but it was useless. There was nowhere to hide from a grown dragon. He felt Ren standing behind him, pressing against the small of his back. He willed her to flee.
‘No, no, no,’ Winter moaned.
‘You didn’t do your homework, did you?’ Noah taunted them. ‘The dragons knew; they always do. The wise teachings of your own grandmother, Kara. Oh, wait, you’re a waddler, you didn’t get to learn that. Only dragonriders had that lesson, and your stupid friends forgot to tell you. Ravenna here let us know that trouble was coming our way. Good job it’s only you, not a real threat. You can fail at being a rebel, just like you fail at everything else.’
