by Ashta, Lucia
“I don’t know what a dragon might be afraid of, but I suspect he doesn’t like being trapped any more than we do. He’s one of the last ones to remain inside.”
“That’s his own fault, if you’ll pardon my frankness.” Sir Lancelot’s voice was growing stronger as he spoke. I took that as a good sign. “A brute like him could tear out of this place in a second if he wanted to.”
“Hmm.” I nibbled at my lip. That was definitely true, and a clear reminder that, so long as we remained inside this enclosed space with him, we were in danger from every direction. “We need to get out of here.”
“Is Sir Lancelot with you?” Nando asked. The boys had reached me. I was pleased to see they remained low and off to the side.
“Yes, but he’s injured.”
“What’s—”
But Nando had to stop because Humbert growled. I hadn’t realized dragons growled, but now it was a sound I’d not soon forget. It set the fine hairs across my body on end. Every single instinct I had was screaming at me to get as far away from the dragon as possible. We had to hurry.
“What’s wrong with him?” Nando finally managed to say, but he must have sensed what I did, because while Humbert growled, he’d circled around me on the floor.
“Everything’s wrong with me,” Sir Lancelot said, reminding me of Madame Pimlish when she draped across the chaise lounge and theatrically claimed herself a victim. “Even my beak and feathers hurt, and they shouldn’t.”
“Can I....” I stopped and started over, determined to give the extremely dignified owl all the honor I could muster. “Will you allow me to carry you out of here, please, Sir Lancelot?”
“Why yes, thank you very much, Lady Isa. See? That’s what this brute of a beast doesn’t understand. Manners make the world a better place.”
Humbert snarled, and Sir Lancelot and I jumped. I couldn’t help but wonder if Humbert actually understood us and had directed that at the owl. No matter, the sooner we got away from the furious dragon, the better.
“Can you get him?” Nando asked.
“I’m sure.” To the owl, I said, “I’m going to scoop you up now, all right? If it seems I’m about to hurt you, please tell me right away.” I was nervous about touching the bird. “I don’t want to cause any more damage.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Nando said, but his voice carried in the direction of the dragon. He was worried about what Humbert would do next.
“Guide me, will you?” I asked my brother, feeling Walt scoot closer behind me.
“What do you mean?”
“You can see what I can’t.”
“Do you want me to get him?”
“No.” It felt like something I should do. “I’ll do it. Just, don’t let me hurt him.”
“You’d better hurry.” Nando was facing the dragon again.
“I know,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. I was trying hard not to be frustrated—or angry—with the dragon. He was simply reacting to his circumstances with the instincts of a dragon. He was loyal to Arianne, Gustave, and Clara. He was simply... out of control. I shouldn’t blame him. I was holding onto my control by a thread no thicker than a filament of a spider web.
I slid both hands in front of me along the floor. When I touched feathers, I jumped, then waited for my nerves to settle. When they didn’t, I sucked in a greedy inhale, which tasted charred, then gingerly smoothed my fingertips along the owl’s body.
“Forgive me if my touch isn’t graceful,” I murmured. “I can’t see you very well.”
“I understand. Thank you nonetheless. I’m grateful you came back for me.”
I smiled despite myself. I was glad we’d come back too. If we hadn’t, there was no way of knowing what might have happened to this bird, who was certainly one of the most amazing creatures I’d ever met.
I skimmed his body, and then his head. I jerked my hands away. “Your... head.” I gulped loudly.
“What about my head?”
“It’s... turned in the wrong direction.”
“Oh.” The owl chuckled, and the sound warmed my heart. If he could laugh at me, he’d survive. “An owl’s head can turn up to two-hundred-seventy degrees.”
“Well that explains a lot.” I chuckled myself. I’d thought his neck was broken or something. I resumed my movements, skimming my hands across the back of his head, until I was certain I had a good idea of the layout of his body. “Ready? I’m going to scoop my hands beneath your body.”
“I’m bracing myself.”
I slid my hands under him and was immediately astounded by how light he was. I’d realized he was small and couldn’t weigh much based on his size, but I hadn’t realized how very small he really was beneath all those feathers.
I nestled my hands around him. The bulk of his body fit in the palms of my hands, though his legs hung off the sides. “Are you all right, Sir Lancelot?” I asked worriedly now that he was entirely my responsibility.
“As if carried by an angel.”
I smiled though no one would see me. That was a sweet thing to say. Sir Lancelot would be all right.
No sooner had I thought it than Humbert took off at a lumbering run, aiming straight at the opening that was too small for him.
“The stupid fool,” Sir Lancelot said. It was a terrible insult coming from the owl. “All he has to do is wait for Lady Arianne or Lord Gustave to guide him through the opening.”
But Humbert wasn’t waiting for anyone. The truth was, he might have felt abandoned to a terrible predicament. He probably didn’t understand that Arianne and Gustave were unable to help him right then, but that they wouldn’t leave without him.
“Oh no,” Nando and I said at the same time.
Nando lurched toward me, throwing his body over mine, while Walt shielded me from behind.
I had time only to cradle Sir Lancelot to my breast when Humbert crashed through the gap at the back of the castle.
Chapter 8
There were a few seconds during which I allowed myself to believe that everything would be fine. Sure, a gigantic dragon had crashed through where Simon had blown open the large double doors. But it seemed that all Humbert had done was enlarge the hole, tearing through stones, some as large as small boulders.
There’d be more rubble, and there was definitely a whole lot more destruction, but if no one had been standing in front of the opening, there was a good chance no one on the outside would have been hurt. After Humbert’s flames exited the castle, even the more confused of the magicians should have realized to stay out of the way.
But then all my uplifted thoughts came crumbling down, literally.
The only warning of what was to come was a slight rumble.
Then the walls—or was it the ceiling?—came tumbling down around us.
Nando remained in his protective position around me, which was both wonderful of him and the cause of the worst panic I’d experienced yet. My brother would die to protect me. I’d long understood that. But now there was a real chance that he might.
I tried not to think of anything that could happen while the world crashed down around us.
The first thing to go was whatever light had filtered inside as the stones dropped like, well, stones. They were heavy, and in their downward motion they were deadly projectiles.
I shivered while holding on to Sir Lancelot and waited for it to end. There was nothing else to do.
I pressed myself against the wall and the floor as much as I could while protecting the owl. Even though the walls and the floor were no longer safe, it seemed safer than the open space of what had been the alcove, but was quickly becoming unrecognizable as the same space.
I focused on the feel of Nando’s body curled around mine and didn’t allow my thoughts to consider anything but how wonderful it was to have a brother like him.
Death and chaos rained down from above, dropping with heavy finality—and I engaged in denial.
When I thought it was over, there was one last
rumbling burst that shook loose additional stones, and they plummeted around us like lead.
Then there was nothing but thick, grimy dust and a desperate hope that, somehow, we’d all managed to survive.
Sir Lancelot coughed against me, and I followed suit. Nando coughed so violently that he arched away from me in the confined space that now held us captive.
As my body wracked with coughs, and I struggled to hold Sir Lancelot still, I strained my hearing to pick up any sign of Walt.
There! I thought I heard Walt cough too, but I couldn’t be certain.
My throat burned all the way down into my chest, and my lungs squeezed painfully. I tried to ask Nando how he was, but all I managed were squeaks that made my eyes water and my throat hurt even more as it catapulted me into another coughing fit.
I held Sir Lancelot aloft in front of my body and spasmed until the sounds that came out of me were more animal than human—the bark of a seal perhaps, though I’d never heard one in person.
Then it started to abate, leaving me exhausted and slumped over myself, wheezing to recover my breath.
It took Nando longer to stop, but once he did, I was better able to listen to my surroundings. Walt was indeed still alive—at least enough to imitate a barking seal as I’d done—so that was a relief.
Sir Lancelot’s coughs were winding down, though their small, pitiful sounds tore at my heart. I wanted to check if I’d crushed him in my attempt to survive a cave-in, but my throat couldn’t do it.
All there was to do was wait.
It took longer than I thought possible, but Nando, and Walt finally calmed. I tried to speak, and after a couple of attempts, I followed through. “Is everyone all right?” My voice was a painful squeak, but I’d managed it.
“I think I’ll live,” Sir Lancelot said. Even his refined voice was rough. “If only to do... something to punish that terrible dragon.”
Of course, Sir Lancelot wouldn’t be doing anything to punish a dragon, but I wouldn’t deny him the intention after what we’d just endured.
“Nando?” I asked.
“I’m... all right.” His voice rasped, and just those few words were enough to induce a violent coughing fit, which eventually evolved into wheezing. I needed to get him out of here.
Of course, that would be a problem. I couldn’t even see my brother, now that we were back to pitch black darkness, let alone get him out. There wasn’t a stream of light entering from anywhere.
“Walt?” I said dutifully.
He grunted.
“What does that mean?”
He grumbled in frustration. “It means that my leg is pinned under one of these rocks.”
My heart skipped a beat while I tried to think of what to say. So much was running through my mind at once, none of it good.
Nando attempted to address Walt, but coughed instead. So I asked, “How bad is it?” and didn’t breathe until I heard his response.
“My leg bone isn’t totally crushed, if that’s what you’re asking.”
That’d been exactly what I was worried about. A crushed leg would have almost certainly required amputation of the limb. My breath rushed out in relief. “All right, that’s good. That’s really good.” I forced myself to ignore the rawness inside and talk. We had to get out of here, which meant helping Walt first. “How bad is it then?”
“My leg’s broken, I’m sure of that, but I can’t move. The rock is on top of my leg.”
“I thought you said the rock wasn’t crushing you?”
“The rock tapers at the end. While it is on my leg, the majority of the weight of the rock isn’t on me.”
I found myself nodding automatically. I suspected that I was numb, operating only on instinct. Everything felt far away, even myself and my own actions, as if I’d compartmentalized that part of me that was in full-on freak-out mode.
“I just can’t move it on my own,” Walt said, then grunted as he heaved at the rock. “Ah,” he cried in frustration.
“What is it?” I said right away.
“Nothing. It... hurts.” It was as if he hadn’t wanted to admit he was in pain. Boys could be so silly sometimes. In his place, I’d certainly be crying. There were some times in life when you had to cry and scream at the injustice of it all just to get through it.
“All right.” I nodded again, my head behaving like it was on a spring, free of any direction from me. “So all we need to do is move the rock. Oh, but we have to get to you first.”
While Walt was immediately behind me, what had previously been smooth floor was littered with substantial obstacles. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them everywhere my forearms touched as I moved them around with Sir Lancelot in my hands. It was pure luck that no one had been injured worse than Walt. The more I turned this way and that, bumping into things in every direction, the more shocked I was that every single one of us hadn’t been flattened into a pancake.
“It’d be so much easier if I could see.”
“I can... see.” Nando paused to draw a wheezy breath. “Remember?”
“I do, that doesn’t change that I’d also like to see.”
“I can create a wisp,” Walt said, sounding strained, in pain, or both.
“You can? I thought you were hurt?”
“My leg is hurt, not my ability to do magic.”
“Oh.” I was genuinely surprised, although I’d known that Walt could perform basic magic. He and Marie had been raised in a magical family, after all. “That would be great then,” I said, feeling clumsy both with my words and thoughts.
Immediately I heard his voice start, but it was too low to distinguish the words. I had bigger problems, obviously, but I couldn’t suppress the twinge of frustration that arose. Was I ever going to learn to do proper magic?
You have to survive this blasted day first, Isa. Right. One thing at a time.
Then a quite small, yet quite bright, light flitted at me. Apparently a wisp was much like a firefly, without the insect behind the light. A gasp of astonishment escaped my lips; I couldn’t wait to learn magic. The things one could do were amazing!
“Will that work?” Walt croaked.
“Oh.” I startled. I’d momentarily forgotten about Walt in my admiration of his creation. “Yes, this is wonderful. I can see enough to make do.”
But I quickly realized that seeing wasn’t as great as I imagined it would be. “Oh, Nando.” My stupid, courageous brother was injured and he hadn’t said anything! “You’re hurt.” I automatically stood to go to him, but I hit my head on the rocks above. The new ceiling height wasn’t enough for me to stand upright. I waddled toward him, crouched low, the wisp and Sir Lancelot moving with me.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, helpless to reach out to the stream of blood gliding down his face.
“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
He positioned himself directly in front of me, careful not to bump into Sir Lancelot in my outstretched hands. “Isa, look at me.”
I obliged, ignoring the way the willowy wisp fluttered in place, constantly moving.
“We need to focus on getting that rock off Walt before it causes further damage. Then we need to find the way out of here before we run out of air.”
Further damage to Walt? Run out of air? I hadn’t even started to worry about that yet.
My brother must have noticed the alarm in my eyes, because he spoke to me in an overly calm way. “All you need to focus on is keeping Sir Lancelot safe while we free Walt. Can you do that for me?”
I could do anything for my big brother. I nodded.
“Good. First, Sir Lancelot, are your injuries grave?”
Nando and I peered down at the petite owl, who looked more like a doll than something alive, with his big, doe-like eyes, and pitiful, convalescent expression.
“I’ll survive, no thanks to the big brute that trapped us in here. I’m grateful to you for asking, Lord Hernando.”
“You’re sure?”
“I believe so.
I hope no bones are broken. It doesn’t feel like they are at least, though I could be wrong. I’ve never had a broken bone before. An owl’s bones are hollow, you see. It’s what makes us so light and agile. But they’re incredibly fragile.” He sighed as if his burdens were as heavy as the stone that trapped us inside the castle.
“How did you get hurt?” Nando asked.
“The wind, it was the air element that Lady Clara summoned. Bless her, she was only trying to get us out of here. But it knocked me into the wall, hard. And then it picked me up and did it again, and again, and again.” He brought a wing to his forehead in lament of his suffering, and I struggled to keep the smile from my face. Our circumstances were dire, sure, but Sir Lancelot was beyond cute.
His head popped up from my hands. “I might have internal injuries.”
“I thought you couldn’t die,” I said.
“That’s not accurate, Lady Isadora, but that very well may be because I’ve never told you my history.”
“And I fear it will have to wait until another time,” Nando interjected. But I had to understand more, even a little bit.
“Will you please tell me your history, only abbreviated?” I asked. It was clearly a tall order for the loquacious bird, but I’d had nothing but questions since joining the academy. Walt could wait another thirty seconds, right? Though Sir Lancelot didn’t do much of anything in thirty seconds....
“Isa,” Nando cautioned.
“Just super quickly?” I felt immediate guilt over Walt, but peered down at Sir Lancelot expectantly anyway.
The owl sighed dramatically, then surprised me by doing exactly what I’d asked. “Why of course, Lady Isa. When one of Lord Mordecai and Lord Albacus’ ancestors died, her final will and testament specified that I should be trapped inside the painting made to depict her. I was never to die, nor ever truly live anymore.”
“So... you probably don’t age or fall ill.”
“I do not. Once Lord Marcelo summoned me from the painting, more or less permanently, I can only be killed by trauma.” He whisked the other wing across his body in an all-encompassing gesture. “Like this one.”
