The elderly dragon master stepped forward.
“You and a team of masters will try to awaken the sleeping dragons.”
A long silence stretched across the arena before Master Fosco said through clenched teeth, “Mount Fornax is under siege.”
Chapter 16
As soon as Master Fosco finished his announcements, many of the people in the royal box cleared out to carry out their duties. Master Torreo, the green-haired chef, was one of the first to leave. Although his name hadn’t been mentioned earlier, he was the dragon in charge of keeping everyone fed. In siege conditions, he would need to gather any crops not growing on the terraces to make sure the Forgotten King didn’t starve us to submission.
A blanket of gray clouds formed across the sky, filtering out the fading sunlight and casting the territory in gloom. The temperature fell several degrees, making a chill run down my spine.
With a gulp, I turned to Master Roopal. “Is this a bad omen or the work of the weather witches?”
“Mount Fornax is two things,” said the silver-haired dragon master. “The mountain and its surrounding territory. We have two lines of defense: the external shields around the lands, which our weather witches have bolstered with clouds of fairy iron, and an iron sphere which Madam Maritimus will activate to enclose the mountain.”
“Won’t that block out the sun and all the air?” I asked.
“The weathervane will provide the required illumination, and our defenses will not block the breathable air. By moving all residents into the mountain, we are ensuring a perfectly defensible enclosure from which to protect the dragons and attack our enemies.”
I nodded. “Will non-fairy attackers be able to melt through the iron sphere?”
“No. It is both magical and metallic.”
Gladius clenched his fists. “I will stay outside the barrier and defend the dragons.”
“There is no need,” said Master Fosco. “All dragons, including you, can fight from within the fairy iron. We need you close to protect our civilian brethren.”
Grimacing, Gladius stared at his feet. I placed my hand on his forearm. He didn’t need to feel so guilty. There was no way he could have predicted that King Calder would be the one to resurrect the Forgotten King. Just because he was the oldest and strongest dragon in existence, it didn’t mean he was responsible for what had happened. “If you’re leaving the barrier, my friends and I will come with you and bring weapons of fairy iron.”
He gave me a grateful nod.
The dragons and warriors left the arena in droves, and within minutes only the witches remained to take orders from Madam Maritimus.
Fyrian flew out of the dragon seats and landed on the arena stage. “I’m not hiding in any lower levels.”
I smiled. “Of course not. You’re going to be part of my team of protectors.”
While Master Fosco and the rest of the senior members of the Council of Dragons returned to the mountain to fine-tune the arrangements for the siege, Gladius returned Evolene, King Magnar and me to the mountain to round up a team of volunteers.
A somber atmosphere filled the mess hall. It was one thing to battle the forces of Savannah or even spriggans, but an all-powerful Fairy King who was so evil his name had been stripped from history was a completely different matter. Most in the mess hall were too young to remember the wars between the ogres and the fairies, but most will have known about relatives who had been killed in cruel and sadistic ways.
“And those were the fairies who considered themselves good.” Fyrian sent a shudder down the bond.
“How do you know about the wars?” I asked.
“History of dragons,” she replied. “The ogres didn’t know this, but the Snow Queen took advantage of the war to attack the fairies.”
“But I thought she’d been banished to Tundra,” I replied.
“Well, she was, but she got her trolls and hags to do her bidding. Anyway, you know how the fairies like to sit back and let others do their dirty work? They called on the dragons to fight their war for them.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “What happened?”
“A few of them agreed, just to escape the pocket dimension. Then they transformed into men and disappeared into the Known World.”
“Ha!” said Gladius. “Serves them right.”
“That’s how Fosco met Auntie Rilla. It’s a long story, but he told her all about the dragons stuck in Elphame, and she worked out a way to save them.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Warriors sat around tables, eating bowls of stew ladled out by servers clad in white linen who stood in front of bubbling vats. I supposed there was no time to prepare the barbacoa.
Gladius placed his hands on his hips, pulled back his shoulders, and raised his chin. “I will challenge these warriors to defend their dragons.”
“You’ll offend the ogre hybrids if you say it like that,” said Evolene. “Most of them work in the Dragon Defense Division and are going to defend Mount Fornax anyway.”
“But not the cadets or some of the civilians,” I said. “And I think a call for volunteers would be more successful from someone they already knew.”
Gladius gave me a grim nod.
I strode to the middle of the mess hall, cleared my throat, and glanced around. Everyone was too busy either eating, serving food, or waiting for food to notice me, so I pulled out a chair from the nearest table and climbed onto its seat.
“Excuse me,” I shouted.
A couple of half-ogre riders clad in red leather sitting in the next table glanced up for a second and turned back to their bowls of stew.
“Warriors!” I shouted.
A silence spread across the mess hall, and all eyes turned to me. I gulped and glanced down at Evolene, who gave me an encouraging nod. Beside her, Gladius gave me an impatient nod. His way of telling me to hurry and recruit some volunteers, I suppose.
“I know that many of you will be busy with duties for General Thornicroft, but I’m asking those of you who don’t have a role in the upcoming battle to join me outside the siege and face the Forgotten King and his hoards.”
“Says who?” A quarter-ogre wearing the metallic leather of a tamer stood. “There isn’t a single warrior here who won’t defend the dragons, but your plan goes against our training. We did drills years ago. When high fairies attack, we defend from within the barrier of fairy iron.”
“Sorry,” said “Fyrian. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
His companion, a short man wearing a longsword pulled himself to his feet. “I want to know who we’ll be following into battle: the son of Queen Cendrilla and King Armin, or an impostor who has had a few lucky breaks?”
Mutterings broke out across the mess hall, making a layer of dread form in the lining of my stomach. Of all the times for someone to doubt my disguise, why did it have to be now?
In the far right corner of the room, Niger shot out of his seat. “Lucky breaks?” he roared. “Bluford has saved Mount Fornax time and time again. While you were writhing in agony with the plague, who fought alchemists and homunculi to save your sorry hide? Bluford!”
The cadets in the surrounding tables slammed their mugs on the table in support.
I drew in a sharp breath, heart filling with warmth at Niger’s defense.
He bent his arms, his fists poised as though ready to jab the first person who contradicted him. “When everyone fell under the spell of a loyalty elixir and clambered to fight a war without suitable weapons, who risked their lives to distribute an antidote?”
“BLUFORD!” shouted the cadets.
Stafford stood on his chair. “And who saved an innocent dragon from being executed?”
“BLUFORD!” This time, a few of the warriors in the surrounding table joined in.
Niger jumped onto the table, upturning his mug of ale. “Who fought through locusts and riots and spriggans to return the stolen dragon eggs?”
“BLUFORD!” shouted half the mess hall.
My heart pounded, and I folded my arms across my chest, affecting a posture of quiet confidence. Half the dragon moths in my belly made excited flaps, but the other half writhed with embarrassment across the lining of my stomach. How many of my adventures would they bring up to the crowd of warriors?
“Who caught Asproceros and rescued the abducted dragonets?” yelled Stafford.
“BLUFORD!” shouted the entire mess hall.
I glanced at Evolene. She had played a large part in most of my adventures. So had Stafford, Niger, and Master Jesper. I squirmed at taking all the credit.
“And it’s wrong to distract them with a list of all your heroic deeds,” said Fyrian. “If you let them join your battle team under false pretenses, you’ll be no better than Magnar.”
A pang of guilt made my heart throb. I gazed around the mess hall, at the excited faces of the warriors riled into a frenzy of battle-readiness. While they might follow a young man into battle, they would probably feel differently if they discovered I was a woman and not even a legitimate member of a Noble House.
“Anyone who would judge you harshly because of something so meaningless isn’t worth the effort,” said Fyrian. “Dragons don’t get married, and we don’t even know our own parents. That sort of thing doesn’t matter to us.”
Gladius remained silent. He probably didn’t understand the difference it made to be female.
“All right.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ll say something.”
It took several minutes for the excited chatter to die down, and I walked to the empty head table. All eyes followed me, and a buzz of anticipation spread across the mess hall. They were waiting for a rousing battle speech. For me to tell them we would turn the Forgotten King and his minions into blots on the parchment of history.
I stood in front of the table, heart pounding so hard, it made the marrow in my bones rattle. My gullet dried, filling my mouth with the sensation of parched earth. I placed a hand over my throat and swallowed.
Someone shoved a tankard of foaming ale into my hand, and rough hands hoisted me up onto the head table.
Another cheer filled the room, loud enough to rattle my eardrums and to drown out the pounding of my pulse. My heart spasmed. This was the moment I would tell them I was a fraud. This was the moment the entire mess hall would turn against me.
“All those things they said you did were true,” said Fyrian. “You only need a small team of volunteers. If they don’t want to work for a woman, you’ll at least have Niger and Stafford.”
I turned to the far right corner of the mess hall, looking to my friends for support, but they were gone.
“Look down,” said Fyrian.
Niger, Stafford, Rufus, Gobi, Bruns, Livens, Muti and the other rider cadets stood in the front row. Eyepatch hovered behind them beside his nephew, holding an empty ladle. My insides filled with hope, making my eyes prickle with happy tears. These were the friends I had made during my time at the academy. Although some knew my secret and accepted me, I hoped the others would forgive my deception.
I cleared my throat. “The dragon tamers earlier asked about my identity, and I think that’s a fair question. Some of you will risk your lives to fight the Forgotten King and his army, and you deserve to be able to make a choice on who to fight with based on the truth.”
Niger’s eyes widened, and Stafford’s jaw dropped. Rufus folded his arms and kept his face expressionless. I tore my glance away from them, not wanting to lose my courage.
“I never said I was Prince Robert or Prince Brandon. When I joined Mount Fornax, I gave the name Albert Bluford.”
“Who are you, then?” shouted a voice at the back.
A shiver of apprehension rippled through my gut, but I inhaled a fortifying breath and tamped it down. The warriors all stared, waiting for me to say my name.
“I’m…” I took another deep breath. “I’m Alba Bluebeard.”
Everyone stilled. It was as though someone had cast a freezing spell over the entire mess hall and stopped them from moving or even breathing. The only sound was the pounding of my heart, which pumped an influx of blood to my limbs in anticipation of the outpouring of outrage.
When I thought the silence would continue forever, Eyepatch raised his hand. In a small voice, he said, “Does that mean you’re Princess Alba?”
With a gulp, I nodded.
“The one King Magnar chose as his Savannah Sky Commander?”
I nodded again.
“We thought that was Bluford in disguise.”
“Bluford was Princess Alba in disguise.” I clicked my fingers. “Thunderbird.”
As if the transformation was a flare of magic, the warriors gasped and stepped back.
With hands that wouldn’t stop trembling, I raised my tankard of ale to my lips and took another swig. Its crisp, fruity flavor spread over my tongue and down my throat, filling me with courage. I lowered my tankard and addressed the crowd. “Before I came to Mount Fornax, I’d failed the Magical Militia and couldn’t even stand up to my father when he wanted to send me away to marry a stranger. But being among you warriors has given me a level of courage and skills I never thought possible.”
The mess hall remained silent, as though everyone wanted me to continue.
“Tell them you’re sorry and ask for volunteers,” said Fyrian. “Anyone with a lick of sense will understand your situation.”
“I’m sorry for letting you all believe I was one of the Princes of the United Kingdom of Seven, and I had to tell you the truth now, so you’d know who would be commanding you in the battle ahead.” I paused, letting the apology sink in. “Who will volunteer to fight outside the wards?”
Niger stepped forward. “I will.”
As did Stafford. “Me, too.”
Rufus and Gobi raised their hands. “I will.”
Eyepatch raised his ladle. “My nephew and I will… If you’ll have us.”
I smiled and nodded.
Muti and his group of rider cadets raised their fists. “We will!”
The drogott team, including Brunus and Livens shouted, “We will!”
Albens and the group of mages raised flaming weapons. “We will!”
My heart soared. I’d thought such a senior group would have duties within the This was more than enough to carry out our plans. Before anyone else could volunteer, I raised my hands. “Thank you. I have everyone I need. Please meet me in the far right corner so we can discuss tactics.”
I stepped down from the table. Niger strode up to me, admiration shining in his obsidian eyes. “Everybody knows. Do you feel better?”
A whirl of emotions rushed to my throat, making me swallow. Relief at nobody reacting badly to my secret, pride at having finally listened to Fyrian and told the truth, and disappointment at not having revealed my true identity sooner. I smiled and nodded. This Niger was nothing like the one-dimensional irritation I had met in the spriggan’s dreams quest. This Niger was my biggest supporter.
The warriors returned to their seats, and I led my band of volunteers to the cadets’ section at the far end of the room. The boys in the drogott team pushed the tables together and ushered me to sit at the head, as though I was some kind of General.
“You are,” said Fyrian. “Now you need to say something rousing, so they’re all ready for battle.”
“I’d better stay standing, then.”
As everyone took their places, Master Jesper rushed into the mess hall, holding a burlap sack. “Ah, Cadet…” The troll paused, as though not knowing how to address me. “Bluford and others, I’m glad you’re back. I took the liberty of tweaking the spriggan poison so it might affect the Forgotten King. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to perform an enchantment to exclude you from its effects, so you’ll need to take an antidote.”
I turned to Gladius, who sat at my left. “Maybe you should take it too, seeing as you were affected by the Isle of Iron.”
He gave me a sharp nod. “There is no telling what a h
igh fairy poison might do to me.”
Master Jesper handed over the antidotes. I knocked mine back, grimacing at its bitterness and trying not to think about the source of its foul, coppery aftertaste.
“Thank you. Please take a seat while I—”
An ear-splitting roll of thunder broke across the mess hall.
Chapter 17
Fear shook my bones in time with the thunderous rattling on the wards. Warriors rushed out of their seats and onto the terraces, unsheathing their weapons, but my group and I remained in our seats.
“That was quicker than anticipated,” said Stafford.
I tightened my fingers around my spoon. “Either the spriggans gave King Calder everything they needed to awaken the Forgotten King, or some of them weren’t in the palace when I blew the foghorn.”
“What are your orders?” asked Niger.
“That depends on how they’re attacking,” I said. “If it’s just the Forgotten King, then we’ll meet him outside the wards. If he has troops and has split them into groups, we’ll split up and meet each of them head-on.”
“What shall we do?” Eyepatch pointed at himself and his nephew. “Neither of us are warriors.”
“Would you feel comfortable about poisoning spriggans?” I asked.
He gulped. “As long as I’m not getting close to them.”
I unhooked the foghorn from my sword belt, but Master Jesper placed a hand over my wrist. The troll reached into its burlap sack and pulled out a round-bottom flask the size of an apple. Inside, sloshed a familiar, green poison. “I’ve taken the liberty of creating stinkpots. Once activated, the explosive black powder lining the glass will detonate, distribute the poison in a gaseous form that will fill the atmosphere for ten minutes.”
“How do I use them?” asked Eyepatch.
Master Jesper placed four round-bottomed flasks in Eyepatch’s hands and another four in his nephew’s. “Throw one at the first sign of trouble. If you catch sight of a dark fairy, throw another.”
The older man gulped. “Y-yes, sir.”
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