by J. R. Castle
Thea’s face dropped. ‘Oh.’
‘But I do have one of my own,’ Mother Onyx said with a mischievous grin. ‘I inherited it.’
Thea brightened again. ‘Can we borrow it?’
Mother Onyx nodded and got up.
‘You’re going to like this,’ Thea promised Quinn. ‘If it works …’
Mother Onyx disappeared into her bedroom, then returned a minute later carrying a very large and heavy round stone cupped in her hands. She laid it on her low table. Quinn peered at it. Streaks of different colours flashed through it, forming complex, twisting patterns on the surface. Hundreds of tiny runes had been carved into the stone.
‘I used to use it to contact my son,’ Mother Onyx said, ‘but I can’t any more. That’s how I know something has happened to him.’
‘Can I?’ Thea asked, indicating the stone.
‘Of course,’ Mother Onyx said.
Thea beckoned Quinn over. He uncurled from his chair, frowning. Suddenly he knew what Thea was up to.
Thea placed her hands on either side of the stone and muttered a spell under her breath. Nothing happened. Quinn looked across at her, quizzically.
‘It needs the breath of life,’ Mother Onyx whispered.
Thea fell back into deep concentration, her red hair falling across her shoulders, forming a curtain round her face. She tried once more to spark the stone into life, muttering a spell under her breath. This time she breathed on it, gently, and the seeing stone began to glow. Colours danced around it, chasing the patterns in the stone, swirling faster and faster and pulsing with an otherworldly light.
With Thea deep in a trance, there was only one word Quinn could make out: Marta.
Then an ethereal figure crept into existence, foggy and distant in the stone.
Quinn gasped.
She stared right at him, her eyes wide. The seeing stone pulsed with magical energy, sending out multi-coloured rays of light into the room.
Marta had been holding her sewing in one hand, but now she let it fall unnoticed on her lap.
‘Quinn?’ she said. Her voice seemed to echo around the room as clearly as if she’d been standing right there in front of him. He felt if he reached out to touch the stone, he’d be able to touch her face.
‘That’s good spell-casting,’ Mother Onyx murmured. ‘You’re a natural …’
Thea remained silent, caught in the magic, trying to hold onto the spell.
‘Are you all right?’ Quinn cried urgently to his aunt. He’d been desperately trying not to worry about her, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her being locked in a dungeon somewhere on Yaross Island.
She didn’t look like she was in a dungeon, or in trouble. Quinn could make out a window behind her showing a bright blue sky with high, fast clouds and a glint of distant water beneath it. She wasn’t dressed in the shapeless, brown outfit she’d always worn at home either, but in a proper gown. For the first time, Quinn could actually imagine her as a lady of the Emperor’s court.
‘My boy,’ she said, her voice ringing with joy. ‘I’m well. I am with a friend – an old lady of the court.’
Quinn sighed with relief.
Marta continued. ‘It would be best if I didn’t say where I am. The Guard will be looking for me, just like they are looking for you.’ She leaned forward. ‘I heard what you did on Yaross Island. Your father would be proud.’
Quinn felt himself blush.
‘Where are you?’ Marta said.
Quinn cleared his throat. ‘Keriss.’
Marta’s face darkened. ‘I wish you could have avoided that place,’ she whispered.
Quinn knew exactly what Marta was thinking.
‘That’s what I need to ask you,’ Quinn said. ‘My parents – what really happened to them?’
‘Are you sure you want to know?’ Marta said, carefully.
‘Yes,’ Quinn said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to think about. ‘I have to …’
Marta nodded. ‘Their ship did go down near the coast, just as I told you, but it wasn’t an accident. Vayn ordered one of his minions to plant an explosive on board. It went off just as it was approaching the harbour. No one had a chance in those waters – not in the Kerissian Pass.’
Quinn remembered the razor-sharp rocks that jutted from the sea like a dragon’s snapping jaw.
‘But my father was a dragonblood,’ Quinn said.
‘They’re hard to kill,’ Marta whispered, ‘but not invincible. Your father must have been killed before he had a chance to transform …’
Quinn felt the helpless rage building up in him again, like a mist descending upon him. He felt the dragonblood course through his veins, hot and angry.
‘Do … do you know what the killer was called?’ he managed. He hardly recognised his own voice.
Marta sighed. ‘I do. He went by the name of Lorimer.’
CHAPTER 10
THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT
Marta might have said more, but if so, Quinn didn’t hear it. It was as if there was fire raging in his ears. That was what Lorimer had done for Vayn – that was why he was flouncing through Astria, treating it like his own personal citadel. He had murdered the Emperor and Empress. He had murdered Quinn’s own parents, and he’d been rewarded for it. Vayn had given him Keriss Island as payment, to treat as his own kingdom.
Quinn felt his hands clenching into fists. The ends of his fingers itched as talons pressed against the inside of his skin. Scales burst out over his chest, turning it hard and golden. He could feel his dragonform demanding to be released, and he wanted to set it free.
He leapt to his feet and made for the door.
‘Quinn, what are you doing?’ Thea cried, but Quinn ignored her. Ignus and Ulric called out too, but he was already jumping down the stairs five at a time. He heard the others dash down behind him – but not fast enough. The dragon inside him was seething like the tides around Keriss Island.
Lorimer! The man thought he was a king. He thought he could murder the Emperor and Empress and get away with it. Quinn was going to show him otherwise. Screaming his anger, he rushed away through the streets, heading towards the steep walls of Lorimer’s castle, throwing away his caution. He heard Ignus’s deep booming in the distance, but darted round alleyways faster than the flame dragon could follow.
The cobbled roads were mostly empty as darkness fell over the town. Quinn guessed that most of the Astrian citizens were holed up for the night, keeping out of the way of the Black Guard. Only a few small groups of people huddled in doorways or staggered out from taverns.
There were guardsmen standing at the doors of the great, fortified barracks, and other small groups of guardsmen patrolling around the walls. Quinn didn’t have a plan, but the dragon force inside him was driving him forward. There was no turning back now . . .
The old castle’s doors were made of solid oak and framed by stone pillars. Four guardsmen stood directly in front of them. The yellow light of the flaming torches above them flickered on their armour.
‘Halt!’ the first guard cried.
‘Out of my way!’ Quinn shouted as he approached. ‘I’m going in.’ Fury was bouncing around inside him like a tiger batting at the bars of a cage.
The guardsmen looked at each other, then burst into sudden laughter.
‘Get out of here, boy,’ one of them called, ‘before we beat you bloody.’
Quinn’s dragonform came surging forward.
Beat me bloody? Quinn could scarcely contain his anger. His eyes started to glow a burning gold as the dragonform grew inside him. He snatched the golden sword from its scabbard and stalked towards the guardsmen.
‘I will speak to Lorimer,’ he cried.
Suddenly the disbelieving laughter slipped from the guard’s face. Instead, he looked deadly serious.
‘You should watch what you say, boy,’ he said, drawing his weapon.
Suddenly, as if a light bulb had switched off in his mind, Quinn’s resolve f
altered. The dragonblood dimmed, and instead of being blinded by rage, he became all too aware of the dangerous situation he’d put himself in. What am I doing here?
He felt the dragonform stutter inside him and retreat as doubt dampened his anger. The scales under his shirt started to fade.
Uh oh! Quinn realised his mistake.
The first guardsman lifted a double-handed blade. It looked big enough to cut Quinn cleanly in two. He raised his own golden sword.
The guardsman swung lazily at Quinn, as though he thought Quinn was hardly worth bothering with. Quinn leapt back and deflected the sword. He swung his own sword and the guardsman stumbled, scrabbling just out of range. Quinn could have followed it up and run the man through, but the other guardsmen closed in, slashing at him. Quinn threw himself back, tumbling across the cobbles. The guardsmen lunged after him, and Quinn rolled again, throwing himself just out of reach.
Suddenly, a scream sounded, high and piercing, to the west of the castle walls. Then another scream and shouts followed it.
Quinn looked around and let his sword fall to his side.
Something vast and dark emerged from a side street, big and heavy enough to shake the ground beneath it and send the guardsmen staggering back. Its huge grey head looked like a boulder perched on a mountain. Its yellow eyes burned with a dumb, unthinking rage, and a glint of dark magic. Muscles rippled across its barrel of a belly, and a fine dust came off it as it shook with anger. As it stepped into the torchlight, Quinn saw it for what it was.
‘By gods!’ one of the guards murmured.
Barging its way up the road towards the castle doors, a giant Kerissian Stone Troll lumbered straight at Quinn. With a deep howl, which exposed teeth like forgotten gravestones, the troll put its head down and charged.
Cobblestones cracked under its feet as it slammed across the road, picking up speed. Just one touch would turn him into a stone statue, Quinn remembered, just like those poor souls petrified in the marshes.
‘Argh!’ he yelled, throwing himself to one side. His shoulder hit the hard ground with a jolt that made his teeth rattle and his vision swim. He rolled on the ground, feeling himself pick up bruises as he went. He stopped just behind a lamp, and desperately tried to hide himself.
Guardsmen raced in across the square as the alarm was raised. The troll charged towards the guards on the main gate, smashing into them and roaring with rage. The guards fought back, pounding the troll with their magically strengthened swords. It fell back, howling, and crashed into the gas lamp where Quinn was cowering.
The troll twisted in pain, and locked eyes with Quinn, who prepared to be turned to stone or smashed into a bloody pulp, but instead, there was a flicker of recognition between them …
‘Get away,’ it hissed, as if speaking through gravel. ‘Run!’
Quinn scrambled to his feet, his mind racing … Was that … Ulric?
More guardsmen were pelting across the road towards them. The Stone Troll fought against them, but the guards began to organise as the surprise of the troll’s attack faltered. Quinn watched in horror as an approaching group of guardsmen tossed a net over the troll and dragged it down. It crashed to the ground not ten feet from Quinn. Another net followed, entangling the troll further, and guardsmen closed in, weapons raised.
‘No!’ Quinn hissed.
Suddenly, the Stone Troll didn’t look so large or so fierce any more. Ulric couldn’t sustain the illusion, not for this long. The stone body was slipping away, revealing clothes and skin and hair, and a familiar moustache.
From across the road he made eye contact with the Dragon Knight, whose eyes pleaded with Quinn. He was giving him a chance … he was telling him, ‘Get out of here.’
One of the guardsmen let out a shout of delight. He tugged at the nets and grabbed Ulric by one arm, hauling the scrawny man to his feet. Ulric looked small and bedraggled surrounded by the armoured guards.
The guardsman holding Ulric turned and addressed some citizens, who were suddenly gathering round.
‘This is the dragonblood who has been terrorising the city. This is the man who is responsible for your family members going missing in the marshes. We have caught him, and he will face justice for what he has done to you!’
And for the first time that he could remember, Quinn heard the ordinary people of the Twelve Islands cheering the Black Guard.
Quinn knew he had no choice but to turn and flee.
CHAPTER 11
A NEW PLAN
Quinn flung back the sheets and rolled out of bed. The sweat dripped from his forehead as he pushed away memories of the nightmare. Except it wasn’t a bad dream – the night before came flooding back to him. The loss of control, the ridiculous attempt to storm the fortress …
He’d met Ignus and Thea on the way back to Mother Onyx’s and told them what had happened. When he did, Ignus had looked so disappointed in him he could barely look him in the eye.
And you want to be Emperor, he asked himself. What kind of Emperor acts like that?
Wincing, he made his way into Mother Onyx’s dining room. Thea and Ignus were already up, eating breakfast. Neither of them looked at him when he came in.
Awkwardly, Quinn cleared his throat. ‘I know I made a mistake,’ he said.
Thea looked up and smiled, but Ignus remained quiet, throwing a glance from under his thick brows. The silence hung heavy in the air.
Quinn’s voice was so quiet he could hardly hear it himself. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sorry?’ Ignus bellowed. ‘That’s it?’
Thea laid a hand on Ignus’s arm to calm him.
Quinn hung his head. ‘Yes.’ He looked back up, eyes blazing. ‘I was wrong about Ulric. I should have trusted him. I should have knighted him and released him from Vayn’s shackles.’ If he had, he knew Ulric wouldn’t have been captured. ‘I’ll free him – I’ll get him out of there!’ he practically yelled.
‘And how are you going to do that?’ Ignus barked.
‘I have an idea,’ Quinn began, ‘but I need both of you to help…’
Thea nodded but Ignus looked up at him warily and a huffed a reply. ‘I hope this idea’s a good one …’
Two days later, Mother Onyx led them to the castle. The previous night’s mist was still hanging over the town and curling through the streets in thin tendrils, waiting for the sun to burn it away. A few people were out and about, heading for work or pushing barrows of supplies towards the market. Quinn and the others kept their heads down as they hurried past.
The prison was to the west of the castle, where the stone walls began to merge into the surrounding rock. A small entry point was carved into the sandstone.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Thea said, as they approached.
Quinn nodded. ‘I don’t see that there’s any other way.’
‘Here, take this,’ Mother Onyx whispered, slipping a small stone charm into Quinn’s hand. ‘And remember what I told you.’ She handed Quinn a basket of old bread and hard, stale cheese. He was glad Ulric wasn’t going to have to eat any of it.
‘Wish me luck,’ he said.
‘I’ll wish you a lack of stupidity,’ muttered Ignus, who was still acting like a dragon with a sore head.
Quinn straightened. Leaving the others at the corner of the street, he walked up to the prison entrance. A stained, wooden door with a small, barred window led into the solid block of the prison. One of the sentries held up a hand as Quinn approached.
‘What’s your business?’ the man said.
Quinn put on an ingratiating smile and tightly clasped the charm in his hand.
‘My uncle was arrested two days ago,’ Quinn said. ‘I’ve brought him some food.’
‘Let me see,’ the sentry demanded.
Quinn held out the basket with both hands. As the guard took it, Quinn gently touched his wrist.
‘Igresias Artu,’ he whispered.
A spark jolted between them and the guard’s eyes glazed over. With the power
of Mother Onyx’s charm and the spell Thea had placed on it, Quinn got to work on the guard’s mind.
‘I’d just like to get past,’ he suggested.
‘You’d just like to get past,’ the guard said, hazily.
‘And you’re going to let me.’
‘And I’m going to let you.’
Another sentry came forward and began to pat Quinn down roughly – but found nothing. Quinn was one step ahead of them.
‘Nothing, sir,’ the second sentry said. He peered at the food too. ‘Not even anything worth stealing.’ He shoved the basket back to Quinn.
Quinn didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring down at his feet, trying to look harmless.
‘So I can go in …’ he murmured.
‘You can go in,’ the first sentry said, pulling open the door and shoving Quinn through.
There were two more sentries sitting at a table inside, but they just nodded towards a dark stairway behind them that led downward. Quinn boldly headed past them and started down the stairs. He felt a thrill course through him … It had worked. He slipped the stone into his pocket, and made his way down.
The stairs were carved out of the bare rock of the valley that the town sat in. The walls were wet and it was slippery underfoot. Quinn had to reach out one hand to stop himself falling. He could feel the cold and damp radiating from the walls and the only light came from the torches flickering on the walls. Quinn felt the guilt creep across him – he’d practically sent Ulric here.
At last the stairway opened onto a narrow hallway. A torch burned at the far end. It gave off more smoke than light or warmth, but it was enough for Quinn to see a dozen cells with thick iron bars across their entrances. The cells themselves had been hacked out of solid rock.
Most of the cells were empty, but Quinn soon found Ulric slumped against the wall of the furthest one. The Dragon Knight looked terrible. The Black Guard had obviously beaten him when he’d been arrested and the cold and damp of the cell had turned his skin an unhealthy white. But he struggled up and crossed to the cell door when Quinn appeared.
