by Angie Sage
“Krane!” the traveler yelled. “Get them!” And then she was racing toward Allie and Joss, the massive blue Raptor keeping pace with her. Allie and Joss turned to run but the traveler threw herself at Joss and caught his neck in an armlock. Allie hurled herself at the traveler but a well-aimed kick sent her sprawling to the ground. Lysander raised his wings and sent out a hiss of hot air, which, had he had his third long sleep, would have been a burst of fire. The traveler jerked her arm hard against Joss’s throat, making him gasp for breath. “Anything you try with me, dragon,” she snarled at Lysander, “will damage your precious friend here. So I suggest you behave yourself.”
But Lysander would not be told. He sent another searing breath of heat straight into the traveler’s face. The grip on Joss’s neck tightened even further and Allie saw that her brother’s face was beginning to turn purple. She scrambled to her feet, ran to Lysander, and placed her hand on his soft snout. “Please, for Joss’s sake, do as she says,” she whispered.
“Wise advice, girl,” the traveler said, and to Allie’s relief she relaxed her hold on Joss. Joss fell to his knees, drawing in huge shuddering breaths, and behind him flying out from the shadows of the canyon Allie saw the huge Green carrying two riders, closely followed by the flight of five. With dread in her heart, she watched the Raptors wheeling down to land in the shadows at the foot of the cliffs. Two girls—twins by the look of them—dismounted from the Green and ran toward them, carrying long-handled tridents, nets, and a sack. This, Allie knew, was their journey’s end. The exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours caught up with her and she felt all her strength leave. She leaned against Lysander and waited for whatever it was the traveler had planned to happen. Allie didn’t know what that would be, but one thing she did know—it wasn’t going to be good.
It wasn’t. From each of the flight dragons a guard armed with a long stave dismounted and set off after the twins as backup. But the twins needed no help. Working as a highly efficient team, they shoved the sack over Lysander’s head. At once he lay down upon the ground in defeat—the old way of subduing a young dragon who had not reached fire maturity worked every time. Then they turned their attention to Allie. They pulled her arms behind her back and roughly tied her hands, then threw a net over her and wrapped her up so tightly that she could hardly breathe. Allie began to gasp in panic.
“Loosen it, Mirra,” the traveler barked. “We don’t want to lose the girl just yet.”
“Aw, Ma, don’t be such a spoilsport,” one twin said, pulling the net even tighter.
“She’ll be quieter if she can’t breathe,” said the other.
Allie was panicking now, flailing like a fish pulled out of water. One of her hands shot out from the net and by luck landed a punch square on the midriff of a twin. The girl bent double.
The traveler laughed. “Serves you right, Tamra. Do as you are told and loosen the net.”
The net loosened a little and Tamra Lennix hissed at Allie. “You’ll pay for that. No one punches me and gets away with it.”
As Allie took a shuddering gulp of air, Tamra kicked the back of her knees and Allie fell to the ground. “Don’t even think of moving,” she snarled. Allie lay still and watched Joss being trussed in his own net and then unceremoniously rolled along the ground so he lay just a few feet from her. She saw Lysander led off like a tame pony and the traveler shooing everyone else away, leaving her and Joss on the ground. Like bait, Allie thought.
The traveler looked down at them with a quietly triumphant smile. “Joshua, Allinson, allow me to introduce myself. I am D’Mara Lennix, chief of the Lennix clan. All that you see here, I own—including you and your dragon. I bid you welcome.”
Joss and Allie watched D’Mara swing herself up onto the large blue Raptor. They felt the rush of air from the downdraft of wingbeats as the Raptor hovered above them and then neatly plucked them off the ground, so that it held one in each foot. And then, as they dangled helplessly in the air, swinging from the Raptor’s talons, it took them on the most terrifying journey of their lives: deep into the heart of Fortress Lennix.
In a tiny cell in the depths of Fortress Lennix, Joss and Allie lay trussed in their nets, shivering with cold. It was pitch dark, it smelled of rat pee, and the only sound was the distant drip, drip, drip of water.
“Allie,” Joss whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Allie looked at her brother; he seemed so small and defenseless: like a soft little moth spun with silk awaiting the attention of a spider. She supposed she looked equally vulnerable, but right then Allie didn’t feel it—she felt angry. Not with Joss, but with D’Mara Lennix, who had used her brother’s trusting nature to get what she wanted and then thrown him away like a piece of trash.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Allie told him fiercely.
“Yes I have,” Joss said. “I got us into this. I believed what she said.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for believing what people say,” Allie said.
Joss shook his head. “But you told me we shouldn’t trust her. You told me and I didn’t listen. I was so stupid.”
Allie heard Joss sniff. “Hey, don’t cry,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said, and sniffed again. After a while he whispered, “What do you think they’re going to do with us?”
“I don’t know,” Allie whispered in reply. She had been thinking of all kinds of horrible things D’Mara Lennix might do with them, but there was no way she was going to mention them to Joss.
“I suppose they might just leave us here …” Joss said. “You know, forget all about us. If they did, no one would know, would they?”
“Lysander would know,” Allie said.
“Poor Lysander,” Joss said.
They both fell silent. In the distance they heard the clang of a door opening and then the thud of heavy footsteps. They lay still, their ears to the floor, hearing the footsteps coming ever closer and then stopping outside the cell door. They heard the clang of bolts being drawn back; then the door was thrown open and a beam of light shone in, so bright that they screwed up their eyes. And then, dark against the light, a burly figure dressed in the padded black uniform of a Roost guard marched in. In one hand he carried a lamp—and in the other a long, thin knife of glinting, polished steel.
Allie felt sick. She heard Joss scream out, “No, no, no!” and saw him kicking and struggling, trying desperately to get to his feet. But she found herself frozen with fear, transfixed by the blade of the knife that shone so bright it hurt her eyes.
The guard perused his two prisoners. Noting that Allie was quieter, he headed for her. As he leaned over her and the knife drew near, Allie saw how thin the blade was, how delicate the point, and she closed her eyes. She hoped it would not hurt too much.
Allie waited. She heard Joss whimpering now, “No … oh no … no …” and then, close to her ear, she heard the growl of the guard, “Look, I’ve only come to cut the nets off. Gimme a break. I don’t go around stabbing kids. Sheesh. What a bleedin’ cheek.”
Allie felt relief run through her like water.
“Sorry,” Joss said weakly. “I thought …”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t blame you, son. Now, hold still while I get this net … Jeez, it’s tough, innit?” Allie lay stone still as the knife did its job and the net fell away. She scrambled up, shaking her hands to get the circulation back and watching as the guard carefully sliced his way through Joss’s net. Then she helped Joss to his feet and together they jumped up and down, getting a rush of pins and needles into their feet.
“Thanks,” Allie told the guard.
The guard laughed grimly. “Don’t often get thanked around here. Now, follow me. You’re just in time for the prisoners’ supper.”
“So we’re prisoners?” asked Joss.
“Yes, sonny. And that’s what you’ll stay too. For the rest of your life.”
“The rest of our lives?” Joss said despairingly. He had exchanged nineteen years with the Z
olls with forever. He reached out to grasp Allie’s hand and held it tight. Allie’s hand was icy cold, just like the fear Joss felt creeping into his bones.
“Well, I’d not worry about it,” the guard said as he shoved Joss and Allie through the door. “You won’t be here long anyways. Eighteen months is the record, I believe.”
“Record for what?” Allie asked as she and Joss were propelled along a narrow passageway of stone, black with mold and dripping with water.
“For the longest time a prisoner has survived. You see, it’s just a teeny bit dangerous. Take the left turn here, will you? Jolly good. Now up we go, up them stairs. You go first and don’t try to run away. I’m right behind you and there’s a guard at the top.”
They were marched down another dank corridor into a large, vaulted cellar swarming with young teens. Allie and Joss were shocked to see how ill they looked—pale, thin, and dirty, many with deep, jagged cuts on their arms and faces in various stages of healing. They were crowding around a long table, grabbing handfuls of bread and moldy cheese and shiny green slices of meat.
“You got two more minutes of food time before night shift,” the guard told them. “Grab what yer can, for there won’t be no more until tomorrow evening.” He propelled his bemused charges into the throng, shouting, “Make way! Newbies here. Make way!” No one moved. “Come on, be nice to ’em now, they been netted!” A tall, gaunt boy with a thick bandage around his head and a very pale girl with her entire right arm wrapped in a bloodstained cloth reluctantly made way for them. As they pushed past, Allie noticed the blood on the cloth was wet.
Joss and Allie were making half-hearted attempts to chew some stale bread when a bell clanged and a group of new, much fiercer guards marched in, yelling, “Prisoners—atten-shun!”
At once, the teens shoved their food into their pockets and sprang to attention. “You two.” One of the guards pointed at Joss and Allie. “Stand up straight. Hands by your side. I’ll have no sloppiness here or you’ll be doing the Bellacrux run before you even get started. Prisoners—out!”
The double doors at the end of the hall were thrown open with a bang. The teens turned in unison and marched out. Many, Allie noticed, were limping. Joss and Allie went last and followed the ramshackle bunch into a wide corridor with a long red line painted down the middle of the floor. The teens lined up and guards walked up and down the line, allocating jobs for the long evening shift ahead. “You, you, and you: landing yard cleanup. You lot: sheep-killing. You foulmouthed troublemakers: feeding duty.” The last was greeted with a stifled gasp of dismay. “Shut it” was the response.
The guards reached Allie and Joss last. “You”—this was directed to Joss—“Raptor nursery. Go with that lot.” The guard pointed to a group of three next to him in the line. Joss glanced helplessly at Allie. “Get a move on before I send yer to the feeding party.” A guard gave Joss a shove.
“See you later,” whispered Allie.
“I doubt that very much,” the guard said as Joss hurried away after his group.
Allie was paired with a pale, redheaded girl whose hair looked as though it had been chopped with shears. She had come in late and stood quietly beside Allie. She had, Allie noticed, a long, deep cut on her leg, and there was a pool of blood on the floor beside her foot. With a feeling of dread, Allie followed the limping girl out of the hall, heading for something called “Bone Grind.”
The redheaded girl led the way through a maze of subterranean corridors. Although they were no longer accompanied by a guard, Allie could see at once that there was no prospect of escape: Every door they passed was barred and at each branch of the corridor a guard stood brandishing a long dagger. The girl spoke not a word to Allie until a fearsome roar echoed along the passageways, so loud that Allie instinctively covered her ears. Without breaking stride, the girl swung around and said, “Bellacrux. Death dragon.”
A smell of rancid meat and blood began to fill the passageway and, as she followed the girl around the corner, Allie discovered why. They had reached their destination—a huge circular pit sunk into the floor with a narrow walkway around it. And piled into the pit were bones. The bones were not, however, nice clean white bones; they were covered with scraps of rotting flesh and sinew and swimming in a pale pink slime. Allie retched.
The girl put her arm around Allie’s shoulders. “You’ll get used to it, kid,” she said. “By the way, my name’s Carli.”
“Allie,” Allie just about managed to say, and then retched again.
“Hey,” Carli said, pulling her over to the pit. “Not on the floor; we’ve got to walk on that. Throw up in there.”
And so Allie did. Things, she thought as she leaned over the putrid, stinking mess, could not get any worse.
It was Friday afternoon and school was over for the week. Sirin was in the cloakroom, taking her time. She looked through her bag, checking that she had all her homework, and then very slowly put on her coat. Sirin wanted to make sure that by the time she came out, Ellie would be well on her way home. That way she wouldn’t have to see Ellie ignoring her yet again and stalking off along the street defiantly on her own. It had not been good staying with Ellie, Sirin reflected. Their friendship had not survived living in the same house, and everything Sirin did now seemed to annoy Ellie. Anna had said that it was probably because Ellie found it difficult sharing her mum with Sirin. That wasn’t, Sirin thought, a lot of help—if she had had to share her mum with Ellie for a few weeks, she wouldn’t have found it difficult at all. She would have just been happy to have Mum around to share.
Sirin hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and headed out of the battered swinging doors into the playground, damp and dull with drizzle. A quick glance told her Ellie was not there. Relieved, Sirin pulled up her hood and, head down, she walked through the school gates and out into the street beyond the tall black railings.
Sirin hurried along the narrow sidewalk, bumpy with roots from the plane trees, crowded with garbage bags, trash cans, and parked cars. At the end of the street she rounded the corner and caught sight of a group of older girls gathered in a boarded-up shop doorway on the other side of the road. Sirin picked up speed—these were the kind of girls you really didn’t want to be near, especially when you were alone. But as she hurried by, a frightened voice yelled out, “Sirin!”
It was Ellie.
Sirin stopped, uncertain where Ellie’s voice had come from. And then, as the girls in the doorway all turned and looked at her, she saw behind them the pink of Ellie’s rucksack and then Ellie herself in the doorway, hemmed in by the girls. Sirin’s heart sank. This was big trouble.
“Sirin!” Ellie called again. “Sirin, please. Please help!”
Sirin knew she could not ignore her friend. Feeling very nervous, she crossed the road and stopped at the doorway, just out of reach of four girls who wore their own interpretation of the uniform of the high school up the road—school ties cut short, skirts even shorter, ripped black tights and new white sneakers. The girls regarded Sirin with hostile stares. “They want their toll,” Ellie said in a small, scared voice. “I … I promised it yesterday and I haven’t got it and … oh, Sirin, have you got any money?”
Sirin fumbled in her pocket and took out all she had—a two-pound coin, with which she had been planning to buy Mum some strawberries. She gave it to Ellie, who handed it to a girl with the darkest eye makeup Sirin had ever seen. The girl pocketed the coin. “Okay, kid. You can go,” she told Ellie. “And next time have the money, right?”
Ellie nodded and mumbled. “Right.”
Sirin didn’t want to hang around, but as she turned to go, someone seized her arm. She swung around, and found the tallest girl eyeballing her. “You,” the girl said. “Where’s your toll?”
“What toll?” Sirin managed to say.
“For walking this side of the street. On our patch. You owe us. So hand it over.”
“But I just gave you the money,” Sirin protested.
“No you didn
’t,” the girl said. “You gave your friend the money. Not us. So now you pay us. Right?”
Sirin stared at the four in dismay. “But that’s not fair,” she said.
“Ooh, that’s not fair,” one of the girls mimicked.
Another grabbed Sirin by the collar. “Life’s not fair, kid. Get used to it. We want our money.”
“But I haven’t got any more,” Sirin said, glancing desperately at Ellie.
“She’ll bring it tomorrow,” Ellie said. “She will. I promise.”
“Five pounds tomorrow,” the girl said. “Each.”
“Each?” Ellie squeaked.
“Yeah. And get out of here before we make it a tenner each.”
Suddenly Sirin felt angry. They had taken Mum’s strawberries and now they were asking for crazy money that neither she nor Ellie had a hope of getting hold of. “Why should we …” she began, but Ellie stopped her, grabbing her hand and pulling her away at a run.
“Don’t argue with them,” Ellie said as she hurtled along the street, hanging on to Sirin. “They’ve got knives.”
Back at Ellie’s house all the previous week’s irritations fell away, and Sirin found that she and Ellie were friends once more. They played with Sammi and laughed together all through their best TV show, and then Ellie’s dad cooked Sirin’s favorite supper. They were sitting by the fire drawing dragons when the doorbell buzzed. It was Anna, but she went straight into the kitchen to talk, so they began coloring the dragons—Sirin used a bright green highlighter and her dragon shone. She had just finished the tail when the door to the sitting room opened and Anna came in.
When Anna left, both Sirin and Ellie were in tears. Anna had come with the news that a foster home had been found for Sirin and she’d be leaving in the morning. Why, Sirin thought miserably, does everything good always get taken away?
Despite his quicksilver development, Lysander was only an infant dragon and he did not fully understand the new, harsh world in which he now found himself. The sense of security and belonging that he had found with Joss had been violently snatched away, and Lysander now found himself utterly alone in a strange place and—despite that place being a warm chamber, well lit, strewn with soft rugs, and provided with good food and water—he felt desolate.
