Wings of Fire #11: The Lost Continent

by Sutherland, Tui T.

  I’m sorry, Clearsight, he thought. I never meant to cause trouble like this. I didn’t ask for it. I tried to be good.

  Something sparked in the stones, a bright reflection that dazzled his eyes for a moment. He looked down and saw where it had come from — an object on the floor that had caught the light of the lantern.

  A key.

  The key.

  It had been torn from the Librarian’s neck in the struggle with Sundew.

  He glanced at Cricket, but she was crouched by the door with her talons over her face, and he felt a wave of enormous guilt crash over him. The queen knew Cricket’s secret now, and it was all his fault. Her whole life was going to change, even if they did somehow manage to escape this room. She could never go home. The queen would want to find her and figure out why she couldn’t control her.

  Queen Wasp had taken Luna’s life and Blue’s life and Cricket’s life; she’d taken the free will of her entire tribe; she’d taken the lives of thousands of LeafWings and their beloved trees.

  It was time someone took something from her.

  Blue snatched up the key and leaped toward the case. With trembling claws, he fit the key in the lock and turned it.

  Please forgive me, Clearsight.

  He felt the weight of all the rules he’d never broken settling over his scales and sinking into his heart as he opened the lid of the case.

  There it was. The real Book of Clearsight. It was much, much smaller than he’d expected, and it wasn’t bound in gold either. The leather cover was dyed blue but had no other decoration; it was soft and worn, as though it had been read a million times. The pages inside were ancient, flaking around the edges and yellowed with age. It smelled like books and a far-off hint of pine forest.

  He lifted it gently into his talons.

  “Wait,” Cricket said, and he turned quickly to her, but she wasn’t speaking to him. She was talking to Sundew, who had the Librarian pinned against the wall.

  “Don’t kill her,” Cricket said.

  “Why not?” Sundew demanded. Her stomach was bleeding and her fake wings had been torn off, along with a few of her pouches. She was breathing heavily, raggedly, as was the Librarian.

  “Because she’s not the one fighting you,” Cricket said. She took a step closer and peered into the Librarian’s eyes. “The queen is. Does the queen control you … all the time? Is that why you always wear the veil?”

  The answering glare was as blank and white as ever.

  “It would make sense,” Cricket said softly. “That’s the one way to be sure the Librarian never reveals the Book’s secrets. The tribe thinks two dragons share the Book’s knowledge — but really, only the queen does, because the Librarian isn’t herself anymore.”

  Blue shuddered. He’d thought being trapped in the temple for her whole life was bad enough — but it was even worse. The Librarian was trapped in her own mind, unable to get out or make any of her own decisions ever again.

  Sundew studied the dragon with sharp eyes. “I heard rumors that the HiveWing queen could control her subjects. But I thought they were just stories the old ones made up to frighten us.”

  The queen in the Librarian barked a laugh. “No,” she said, “it’s all true. I can control all of them. That’s why every dragon in the Hive is on their way to surround the temple right now. I can’t move the guards you paralyzed, but I can reach everyone else. The moment you step outside this temple, they will kill you all.”

  “But you’re not sending them inside,” Cricket murmured, “because you don’t want them to know you control the Librarian this way.”

  “Let’s try something,” Sundew said. “HiveWing.”

  “It’s Cricket,” Cricket corrected her.

  “Cricket,” Sundew amended, and something about using her name made the young LeafWing sound like a real dragon for a moment, not just a swiftly moving ball of fury. “Find my pouch with a large A marked on the outside.”

  Cricket searched the pouches on the floor, then edged close enough to Sundew to poke through the pouches still clasped around her.

  “Found it,” she said.

  “Open it very carefully,” Sundew instructed, “and take out the jar inside, but don’t open that until I say so.”

  “Any chance you could be a little more ominous about this?” Cricket asked wryly. She drew out the jar and held it between her front talons.

  “Now,” Sundew said, “I want you to open it and shake it out on her tail, then get as far away as you can.”

  Cricket upended the jar over the Librarian and jumped back to Blue’s side. Two small black ants fell out, landed on the Librarian’s tail, and clung to it with their small wriggling legs. Their antennae searched her scales as though puzzled.

  “What are you doing?” the queen demanded.

  “When you’re inside a dragon,” Sundew said, “you can feel everything they can, can’t you? Or else you wouldn’t have screamed when I broke your arm.”

  “Yes,” Cricket answered for her. “I know she leaves dragons when they’re hurt or dying.”

  “Oh, I see your game,” the queen scoffed. “I can take a lot more pain than a broken arm, though. I’m not afraid of anything you can do to this body.”

  “That may be,” said Sundew, “but I’m guessing that’s because you’ve never been bitten by a bullet ant before.”

  Blue had never even heard of a bullet ant, and from her silence, he guessed the queen hadn’t either. They all watched the tiny ants circle for a moment and then start climbing, up and up the Librarian’s tail and along her spine. The Librarian didn’t move and didn’t move and didn’t move — and then, as one of them ran toward her neck, she flicked her wing instinctively to knock it off her.

  Instead it latched on to the wingtip and bit down with little pincer jaws.

  The scream that came out of the Librarian was like nothing Blue had ever heard before. She collapsed as though her bones had melted, and Sundew dropped her to the floor, where the dragon lay shaking all over and screaming that terrible scream.

  Sundew stepped over the patches of blood on the floor, took the jar from Cricket, and neatly scooped up the two ants without letting them touch her. She screwed the lid back on very tightly and packed it away again in her pouch.

  Then she crouched by the Librarian’s head and peeled open one of her eyelids.

  “Had enough?” she asked the white eyeball beneath. “This pain is going to last half a day, just so you know. It’s not stopping anytime soon.”

  “I’ll kill you for this,” the queen hissed, and then, abruptly, the eye rolled back and became a normal eye. Dark orange irises and dilated pupils stared up at Sundew.

  The Librarian stopped screaming.

  “You — you did it,” she said in a strained voice. “Ow. Ow. Owwww I know it’s worth it but oowwww it’s hard to really know that right now. I tried once before to hurt myself badly enough that she’d set me free, but it didn’t work. This is so much worse, though.” She sat up, holding her wing out at an awkward angle and moaning softly.

  “Is she really gone?” Sundew asked.

  The Librarian nodded. “Yes. For the first time in years.” She inhaled and exhaled slowly, then glanced at her wing and winced again.

  “If she’s really gone, then here,” Sundew said, digging out a pair of dark green leaves from another pouch. “Chew this and spit it on the spot where the ant bit you. It’ll deaden the nerve and should dull the pain for a while, at least.”

  “Thank you,” the Librarian said. She put the leaves in her mouth and started chewing.

  “It’ll also make your tongue feel very weird,” Sundew added. “Just to warn you.”

  “Hrmgrah,” the Librarian agreed, making a face.

  “Has the queen been controlling you all this time?” Cricket asked.

  The Librarian nodded, talking awkwardly around the leaves in her mouth. “Ever since the initiation ceremony. I woke up from the ritual with her inside my head. When she s
leeps, she makes me sleep. She’s always in there.” She shuddered. “I was so proud to be chosen. I never knew what it would mean — I had no idea she did this.”

  “That’s horrible,” Blue said softly. The Book felt fragile and warm in his talons. He wanted to protect it with all his heart, and he was sure anyone who wanted to be the Librarian must feel the same way. They didn’t need to be brainwashed into it. Queen Wasp didn’t even give them a chance to show their loyalty; she forced it upon them instead.

  “She’ll be back in your head as soon as she thinks it’s safe,” Cricket pointed out.

  “I know,” the Librarian said, nodding. “But even a moment to be myself is more than I ever thought I’d have again.” She spread the leaf paste over the edge of her wing, and the pain lines around her eyes relaxed. “Oh, thank Clearsight.”

  Sundew glanced across at Blue. “So,” she said. “We have the Book, which is great. But we’re surrounded by Hive zombies who would really like to kill us. Which is less great.”

  “Can you throw bullet ants at them?” he asked. “Or blow-dart them?”

  “I don’t have many more blow darts,” she said. “Or enough bullet ants for everyone in the whole Hive, although that would be my kind of revenge.” She started collecting the pouches she’d lost during the fight, checking their contents, and resettling them around her. She kicked the pair of fake wings into the corner.

  “I’ll help you,” the Librarian said quietly.

  “You will?” Blue said, surprised. “But we’re stealing the Book. Your whole purpose in life is to keep it safe.”

  The Librarian looked at the Book in his talons, and her eyes were sadder than any dragon’s he’d ever seen before.

  “I think it’s time someone else knew the Book’s secrets,” she said. “And if the queen kills me for it, I’ll still be better off than I was this morning.”

  “How can you help us?” Sundew asked practically. “Is there another way out of here?”

  “Not exactly,” she answered. “But I can get you up to the dome, at least.”

  The Librarian got to her feet, wincing from the other wounds Sundew had given her, and limped to the back corner where she’d first appeared. She couldn’t put any weight on her broken arm, and Blue wondered if Sundew felt anywhere near as terrible as he did about that.

  A secret panel in the wooden wall slid aside at her touch, and they all followed her through into the Librarian’s quarters. Compared to the other rooms of the temple, this one felt cold and empty. A bamboo mat in the corner and a small bookshelf were the only two items in the room.

  It looks like a prison cell, Blue thought. The position of Librarian was supposed to be the tribe’s greatest honor. But instead it was a trick, a snare set to trap one of the brightest minds of the HiveWings and keep her useless forever.

  Another panel slid aside to reveal a spiral staircase going up. They climbed after the Librarian, rounding the last curve to find themselves in an attic that smelled of wood chips and boiled silk. The underside of the dome curved over their heads, and Blue saw a door on one side that led to a small balcony.

  “What was this for?” Cricket asked, blinking around at the dust and abandoned boxes. She picked up an odd-looking tool that looked a bit like a curved dragon tongue.

  “I think Librarians used to make books up here,” the Librarian said wistfully.

  “Oh,” Cricket said. She ran one claw along the top of a dusty table. “That’s what I thought they did, too.”

  “Not anymore. Not in a long time.” The Librarian led the way to the balcony door and peeked out through the glass. “Oh dear.”

  Sundew edged in beside her and looked out as well. “Hrmph,” she snorted. “I can take them.”

  “Every HiveWing in Wasp Hive?” Cricket said. “You are terrifying, but I still find that a little hard to believe.”

  “Unless you have something else alarming in one of those pouches?” Blue said hopefully.

  Sundew tapped the floor thoughtfully with one claw. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’d need fire to make it work.”

  “I have fire!” Cricket said. She scrambled to pull out the little stone jar with the flamesilk thread inside and tipped it to show Sundew. “Would this work?”

  The LeafWing’s eyes gleamed. “I think so.”

  “Be careful,” the Librarian pleaded as Sundew took the jar in her claws. “Don’t set the temple on fire. You can have the Book, but please leave the temple.”

  Sundew hesitated, as though she would have loved to set the whole Hive on fire. But after a moment, she nodded. “Stand back.”

  She took a branch covered with long, waxy-looking, red-brown leaves out of another pouch. With careful, slow movements, she dipped the point of each one into the jar until it touched the flamesilk and caught fire. A bright flame flared for a moment on each leaf, then vanished into curls of reddish smoke. Sundew handed the jar back to Cricket and opened the door to the balcony, holding the burning branch out away from her.

  Now Blue could see the temple grounds — and the HiveWings who covered every inch of space between the temple and the door. Orange, yellow, red, and black scales rippled like a vast sea of poisonous snakes. As Sundew stepped onto the balcony of the dome, every head snapped toward her in unison, blank eyes latching on to her.

  One branch of burning leaves seemed very small in the face of all those talons and teeth and claws. Blue shivered, and he felt Cricket put one wing over his back and lean against him.

  I should be comforting her, he thought. I’m the one who’s ruined her life. But if she was still willing to be close to him, perhaps she forgave him — perhaps she still liked him anyway.

  Sundew hissed at the crowd of HiveWings. Smoke was rolling off the leaves now, growing thicker and thicker and redder and darker. She glanced at it one more time, checking that it was all smoke and no flames, and then she threw it with all her might directly into the middle of the watching dragons.

  It hit a yellow-black dragon, who shook it off and hopped away with a yelp. The dragons closest to him began coughing. They sank to the ground, one by one, hacking and wheezing, as the smoke billowed up and out, swallowing the dragons around it.

  But it wasn’t enough. For each HiveWing incapacitated by the smoke, there were five more still grimly standing between them and the only way out.

  “Capture the flamesilk,” they intoned. “Kill the other two.”

  The buzz of their wings filled the chamber as dragon after dragon rose into the air and surged toward the dome.

  Blue’s heartbeat surged with panic.

  Wait … that’s not the only way out.

  He looked up. There was the skylight, and the stars far above them. The hole was barely large enough for a dragon to fit through, but he and Cricket and Sundew were all fairly small. If they could break the glass at the top, they could at least get outside the Hive.

  “Up!” he shouted, grabbing Cricket’s arm and pointing. “We can go out the skylight!”

  She followed his gaze, then looked back at him. “What about you?” she asked. “How do we get you up there?”

  Oh. He twisted to look back at his wingbuds, as though perhaps they’d have magically turned into wings in the last several heartbeats.

  “We’ll carry him.” Sundew threw open her wings and leaped up off the balcony. “Let’s go — and hold on to that book.” She started smashing HiveWings aside with her tail and talons.

  He clutched the Book to his chest. Cricket whirled around in a panic and grabbed a long, twisted silk rope from one of the tables. She and the Librarian threw it around Blue’s shoulders and chest and tied it fast. They each took an end and ran to the balcony.

  I wish I had wings, Blue thought, closing his eyes. I wish I were more than a dead weight for my friends to drag around.

  The rope jerked tight under his arms and he was dragged smack into the balcony railing, nearly tumbling over it, before the rope steadied and he felt himself lifted up, up into the
air. He tilted sideways almost immediately as the Librarian’s bigger wings soared ahead and Cricket faltered under his weight. Then Sundew swept up beside her and took the rope as well, tugging him upright.

  All he could do was dangle helplessly, holding on to the Book for dear life. Right below his talons, the smoke still billowed and the seething mass of HiveWings snapped and churned. Three of them surged toward his feet and he kicked at them frantically.

  “Ack! Help!” he shouted.

  A cascade of little red centipedes poured down from above him. Each dragon they struck let out a shriek of alarm or pain and dropped away, clawing at his face.

  The dome was shrinking below him. Blue looked up and saw Sundew, then Cricket duck into the skylight hole. The Librarian was hovering beside it, taking up the slack in his rope, waiting to let them go first.

  And then suddenly she looked down at him, and her eyes were white again.

  “Nice try,” she said.

  “Cricket!” Blue screamed. The Librarian’s claws slashed through the rope connecting him to his friends. He tumbled sideways, jerking to a stop at the end of the severed rope, but feeling the knots start to slip loose around his chest.

  Cricket shot back down the shaft and flew at the Librarian’s face. The Librarian ducked away, gave her an evil grin, and let Blue’s rope fall from her hands.

  His stomach flipped as he started to plummet, then jerked to a stop again as Cricket caught the end of the rope. But she wasn’t strong enough to lift him alone. Even with her wings beating as hard as she could, they were both sinking down toward the HiveWings.

  “Cricket!” he yelled. “You have to go without me! They won’t kill me, but they’re under orders to kill you. Take the Book and go!”

  “I’m not —” she started to shout back, but he was already tossing the Book up toward her.

  She had to drop the rope to catch it. She did it instinctively, as he’d known she would; she was as well trained to love the Book as he was. All their lives, they’d known it was the most precious object in their world. She’d reach for it without thinking, even if her conscious mind would have chosen to save Blue instead.