by Amie Kaufman
Anders and Lisabet watched her go, then turned back toward the waterfall, staring up at it. “This is going to be cold, even for us,” Lisabet said. “How does your new thing with the heat and cold work?”
“The heat doesn’t bother me the way it used to,” he said. “I still get hot, but it doesn’t make me feel slow and awful. Sometimes it even feels nice. The cold always feels good.”
“Well, even we can still get too cold,” Lisabet said. “So let’s be quick. We’ll have to hope there’s some kind of ledge behind the water, somewhere we can walk along. If we have to walk through the water for long, we’ll be swept down into the lake.”
“Let’s try the lowest level first,” Anders said. “Then we can try the next one up if we have to.”
They slipped into wolf form, both full of energy, brought alive by the freezing-cold spray on the air—it felt like breathing in cold itself, and aches and pains and slowness Anders hadn’t even known he was feeling slipped delightfully away.
He was a little taller than Lisabet in wolf form, just as he was in human form, so he went first. He approached the edge of the waterfall slowly, peering through the torrent to try and see if there was anything behind it. He needed a ledge, or even a cave, so the waterfall didn’t knock him down into the lake. If they were right, and this was where the next piece of the scepter was hidden, then there had to be something behind the water. The riddle said he had to go through. He couldn’t tell, and after a long moment’s hesitation he simply plunged in.
There was no ledge behind it.
His claws scraped against slippery, mossy stone, and the water landed on him like a pile of rocks, shoving him straight down into the lake. He banged his side against the steep, jagged stone on the way down, and then the force of the water falling from above was pushing him down, down, down. Icy water was wrapping around his lungs, and without the sun above him, he had no way of knowing which way was up and which was down.
He desperately held his breath, lungs burning, and swam as hard as he could, hoping against hope he was heading for the surface. Then his throat clamped and closed, forcing his mouth open to drag in a lungful that was half water, half air. He coughed and spluttered, but his next breath was more air and less water, and as he blinked his eyes, treading water with flailing limbs, he realized he’d found the surface.
Lisabet had jumped in after him and was just swimming up, ears pricked forward, worry all over her face. She lifted her muzzle in a gesture he instantly understood. Swim for the other side.
He wasn’t sure why she wanted him to head over there, but he obediently turned and struck out for the far shore—it wasn’t so far to swim, just a little way from the base of the waterfall. Farther out, the lake got much wider. He was still coughing as he dragged himself up onto the rocky shore, water streaming from his sodden coat, tail clamped between his legs.
Lisabet climbed up beside him and they each gave themselves a shake, shedding a little of the water. No ledge? she asked.
No ledge, he confirmed. Maybe from this side?
That’s what I was hoping, she agreed.
They were both considerably slower and more careful as they explored this side, but this time they didn’t have to poke their heads through the water to be sure there was no space behind the waterfall. They’d have to try farther up.
The incline next to the waterfall was so steep as to be nearly a cliff, rough and rocky, tufts of determined grass clinging to it. But as Anders scrambled up the first few feet, sinking his claws into every available handhold, he found a thick, glossy green vine hanging down from somewhere above. He didn’t remember seeing it during the day—it must have blended into the cliff. He grabbed a mouthful of it to help pull himself up, and then nearly let go in surprise. All up and down the vine, tiny lights had come alive in response to his touch—little white flowers no larger than a pea, unfurling their petals and seeming to reflect the moonlight back at the sky, undulating slowly, as if they were underwater.
He climbed very carefully past them and heard Lisabet whine her surprise as she came up behind him. They followed the path of moonflowers up two tall layers of rock, and Anders felt his excitement building. He’d never seen these moonflowers before, or even heard a whisper of something like them. Could this be something Flic had taught to live here?
His legs were trembling with effort when he reached the second ledge, the water thundering down just past his nose, the moonflowers still gently glowing by his tail. They went no higher, though—the vine seemed to disappear behind the curtain of water.
If there wasn’t room back there, and Anders was swept off by the waterfall again, it would be a brutal fall. The kind of fall that could kill a wolf. But he had to take the risk. He growled a low warning to Lisabet to stay well clear, took a deep breath, and plunged in.
And he came out the other side into a perfect garden.
To his left, the torrent of water was still pouring down, filling the air with crisp, cool spray that danced before him. And hidden behind the curtain was a large, round cave. It should have been completely dark, but the moonflower vines snaked all around the walls, softly illuminating the room. Some of them seemed to be growing on some sort of metal lattice, and he shook the water from his coat, then padded over to stand up on his hind legs, pressing his front paws against the wall. There were runes engraved all along the lattice, and it was slightly warm to the touch. These artifacts must have lasted the five centuries or more since Flic had first made this place. They must be why such incredible plants grew here.
He heard a soft whine behind him and turned to see Lisabet, who had followed him through the waterfall after he didn’t emerge and was staring slack-jawed at the cave. She walked over to join him, standing up to look at the artifacts. I’ve never seen anything so old, she said without words, but with a tilt of her ears, soft whines, and intakes of breath. Every move was tiny in wolf form, but he’d never seen her so excited.
He dropped down, nosing through the flowers at the base of the vines. They must get some light through the waterfall during the day, for they were all facing that way, their dark petals closed against the night just now. How did it last? he asked her, following the edge of the cave around, finding a small bush with berries that glowed a deep red, and then a pale moss that lit up when his paws touched it.
Perhaps Drifa came here to make sure it did, Lisabet replied, when he turned back to look at her.
Anders’s breath caught. He imagined his mother—who he couldn’t picture at all, except as a dragon, and he didn’t even know what color her scales had been—coming here, one in a long line of dragonsmiths who had come to maintain the work of Flic, who had gone before. This place was worth that kind of effort. And being here, somewhere she had been, made him feel connected to her. It made him miss her, even though he’d only just found out who she was.
Let’s look for the scepter, said Lisabet, picking the other direction to the one Anders had taken and hunting around the edge of the cave. He mentally shook himself and returned to his own search, using his nose to try and sniff out anything that didn’t smell like a plant, anything that didn’t quite fit. He soon caught a whiff of oiled wood, and pushed himself hurriedly back into human form, brushing aside the vines at that section of the wall. “Lisabet, look!”
It was a huge, stout wooden door, banded across with metal—engraved with more runes—and most definitely locked.
Lisabet shifted back to a girl beside him. “I really hope she wasn’t expecting you to have the key,” she said.
Anders hoped so too, feeling all around the edge of the door and going up on his toes to feel along the top of the rim. He had an inkling Drifa wouldn’t have left it quite that much to chance. After all, she wouldn’t have left a map that gave them clues if she didn’t want them to be able to find what they were looking for.
“I wonder how she got in here,” Lisabet mused as she watched him. “It would be difficult to climb the waterfall in human form. She and Flic m
ust have wanted to very badly.”
Anders’s fingers closed over a cylinder at the top of the doorway’s arch, and he tugged it loose from where it was woven into the vines. It was wrapped in the same waxed canvas as the first half of the scepter had been, and his hands were shaking in excitement as he pulled the string away. A moment later, the dim light of the moonflowers revealed a second section of the Sun Scepter, dark wood wrapped with engraved metal bands. “Got it,” he said, squeezing it tight. “But,” he continued, as realization sank in, “it’s not big enough to be the rest of it.”
“Two pieces down,” Lisabet agreed. “I was sort of hoping there’d only be two pieces, but I think we’ll have to keep searching. Looking at the size of what we have so far, comparing it to the Staff of Hadda, I’ll bet my tail there are two more pieces to go.”
Anders thought of the tall, worn wooden staff used to test whether those with wolf blood could make their transformation and join Ulfar. She was right—it had been taller than he was.
“We’ll find the others,” he said confidently, buoyed by success. “All we need is time. Let’s get back to Rayna, and see if the map has another clue for us.”
There was no real way down except to jump from the waterfall, and though Anders would have preferred to do it in human form to hold on tight to the piece of the scepter, he couldn’t afford to soak all his clothes. So he transformed back into his wolf form and picked the piece up, gripping it experimentally in his jaws. It tingled a tiny bit, just the way his amulet had the first time he’d put it on, or the purse had when he’d held it, as if the essence inside was tickling his skin, and then it subsided.
He and Lisabet exchanged a nervous glance. They’d have to take the waterfall at a run, to be sure they could jump all the way through it and come as far as possible out the other side, landing clear of the tumbling water at the bottom. It went against all his common sense to charge a waterfall and leap out into the air, but he backed up as far as he could and readied himself.
Lisabet looked back at the wooden door. We’ll come back one day, she said with a soft, determined growl. And see all the amazing things behind that door.
And then, side by side, they ran toward the waterfall as fast as they could, leaping from the edge of the rock.
The waterfall pummeled Anders breathless as he flew through it, and he closed his eyes tight as he arced out toward the water, landing with a splash at the bottom and sinking down, down, down. His mouth was forced open by the piece of the scepter, and water wanted to pour in, but this time he was sure which way was up, and he used all four legs to propel himself. Lisabet, being lighter, had surfaced quicker, and she was treading water and waiting for him. Together, they struck out for shore.
They were careful returning to camp—they rolled in the grass until their coats were dry, and Lisabet signaled with a flick of her ears that she’d creep ahead of Anders to make sure the coast was clear. If anyone saw her, she would shift to her human form and speak loudly to give him warning.
He lay still as she slunk forward, her belly close to the ground. Her fur was so dark it was almost black, and she was nearly invisible in the night. When all was silent after a minute, he crept in after her. She was sitting with Rayna between Ellukka’s forelegs, the dragon looming over the pair of them and looking down at Anders with interest. It was a bit intimidating, what with the size of her eyes.
Rayna had the map ready, and Anders quickly transformed back into human form, then crouched down to touch the piece of the scepter to it. By the firelight, they all saw the knotwork around the edge of the map shift and wriggle and form the words they were expecting.
Lisabet leaned in and read them in a whisper.
“They might be crumbs, or scattered jewels,
For wolves they’re home to mighty strength.
Through spray so high and wind so cruel,
Go search along the shortest length.”
Everyone stared down at the map. Eventually Rayna spoke. “What?”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lisabet admitted.
“It sounds like somewhere wolves like,” Anders whispered. “Somewhere on a coastline, if there’s spray, maybe? Does that sound familiar, Lisabet?”
With an apologetic expression, she shook her head. “Maybe Hayn can help. Or if he can’t, he has the whole library, he can research it for us.”
“Right.” Anders relaxed. Their uncle would know how to find out where wolves felt strong, or found strength, or . . . whatever the riddle meant.
“Let’s get some sleep,” Rayna said quietly. “Long flight in the morning.” And then, after a pause: “Good work, you two.”
Above them, Ellukka rumbled soft agreement.
“Thanks,” said Anders, smiling at Lisabet. “It was pretty amazing. We’ll all go back someday, when the sun’s out and the weather’s warmer.”
“But for now,” Lisabet said, “Rayna’s right, we should rest.”
They all settled down in the firelight, Anders with the map and the scepter piece tucked inside his cloak. He curled up beside Rayna, just as they had all their lives, tangled together beneath a blanket, as if they were once more hiding in an attic or stable, rather than sleeping beside a waterfall between a dragon’s forelegs.
And as the stars twinkled gently above them, one by one they each fell asleep.
Chapter Twelve
IT WAS NEARLY DINNERTIME THE NEXT DAY BY the time they reached Drekhelm. Rayna and Ellukka each took their turn landing in the Great Hall, and Anders was so relieved to climb down and stretch his cramped legs that at first he didn’t register the group of dragons at the other end of the hall, too busy pulling off his twin’s harness.
Both the girls transformed, and they hadn’t missed the gathering—Anders followed their gazes and realized all the members of the Dragonmeet were gathered around their customary long table. All of the Dragonmeet, except for Leif.
Mylestom came immediately to his feet, and several others rose as well. Saphira wasn’t wearing anything like her usual smile.
Leif, who had arrived and transformed first, walked forward to address the Dragonmeet. “I was not aware we have a meeting scheduled,” he said. “Has something happened?”
It was clear from the looks most of the dragons exchanged that they had not meant him to return while they were still speaking. When Leif turned his attention back to the Finskólars, his expression was grave. “Thank you for your company on our trip,” he said, with all his usual courtesy. “We will resume classes in the morning.”
Nobody felt easy as Anders and the others made their way from the Great Hall, leaving Leif and the Dragonmeet behind them. Theo peeled away almost immediately to head for the archives—he was hoping to find Hayn before the big wolf left his workshop for the night and ask him whether he could cast any light on the next riddle. Whether he could think of or knew how to find any places the wolves traditionally said gave them great strength.
Anders was dying to go with him, but though the guards on the archives were now used to Theo visiting—Leif had given him permission, as part of his research—if a wolf tried to go inside, even a Finskólar, they would insist someone ask the Dragonmeet for permission. He couldn’t afford to risk drawing their attention just now, especially the way they’d looked when Leif and his students had landed.
So he went with the others as they collected food and retired to his and Lisabet’s room, taking up their usual positions while they waited for Theo.
“I don’t know what was happening in the hall,” Mikkel said, “but it wasn’t good.”
“My father wouldn’t meet my eyes,” Ellukka said. “That’s not normal.”
“I have a horrible feeling,” Lisabet said, “that they were talking about Leif.”
It was the same feeling they all shared, and they lapsed into uneasy silence. Leif was the voice of reason on the council, the one who had stopped the dragons from throwing out Anders and Lisabet right after the wolves attacked. If his
power was slipping, what would that mean for them and all the rest of the Finskólars? For the fragile truce between the wolves and dragons?
Anders didn’t know about the others, but he was focused on silently willing Hayn to be in his workshop, to know the answers, to help them hurry toward the third piece of the scepter. More and more, it felt like time was running out.
As if to emphasize his point, Rayna shivered and stole one of the blankets from the end of his bed to wrap around her shoulders. He’d never seen her need so much extra warmth in the dragons’ own stronghold before.
Everyone looked up when the door opened to admit Theo. Straight away, his face told them he had not been successful.
“Hayn wasn’t there?” Lisabet asked.
Theo shook his head. “Worse,” he said. “He was there, and he wasn’t alone.”
Anders sucked in a quick breath. “Did they see you?” he asked.
“No,” said Theo. “But I think they know he’s been talking to us. Or to someone, anyway. I only got there at the end of it, but four of the Wolf Guard were marching him out of his office, and right before they made it to the door, another one threw a blanket over the mirror.”
“They wouldn’t do that unless they thought he’d been using it,” Lisabet said.
“This is bad,” said Ellukka.
“This is really bad,” agreed Mikkel.
“We have to assume he won’t be back,” said Lisabet. “If they sent four guards to take him wherever he’s going, they don’t think he’s on their side. They won’t give him another chance to speak to whoever they think he’s speaking to.”
“Then we have to find some other wolves to help us,” Anders said. “We’re not going to find what we’re looking for here at Drekhelm. If it’s anywhere, it will be in the library at Ulfar.”
“Agreed,” said Lisabet. “But it’s getting harder and harder to get away from here without anyone noticing.”
“And . . .” It was hard to say, but Anders made himself. “I don’t know if our friends at Ulfar will help us. They barely, barely trust us.”
