‘You are vain,’ retorted Sheena, but she finally turned away from the window and faced him, crossing her arms as she did so. ‘What do you want now? I already told you that my visions have clouded. The evil aura that surrounds this place has stopped all of my channelling.’
Vanyir scrunched up his nose. ‘That’s just an excuse to get out of here,’ he said. ‘I know you’re just buying time, but no one is coming to rescue you, so you can get that idea out of your head.’ He drew himself to full height. ‘I brought you up from the dungeons to help drive away the “evil aura”. I am not taking you any further.’
Sheena snorted. ‘Humph, fine then,’ she said, and she turned her back to him. A minute passed before she spoke aloud again. ‘I see … a small group of travellers lost in the woods. Yes … lost without each other. … Oh, and what’s this? A dead drayskul? What a pity.’
Vanyir frowned at the sarcastic edge to her voice, but was even more puzzled by her prediction, as he had already known of it beforehand. ‘Have you been talking with the riders here?’ he asked her.
‘Of course not,’ said Sheena, spinning back around. ‘I’m locked in this room all day and night, unless you haven’t noticed.’
‘I already knew this happened,’ said Vanyir tartly, ignoring her comment. ‘Furthermore, I notice that you only tell me things that I usually find out within a few hours later. Why?’
Sheena shrugged. ‘Who am I to question the powers of foresight? Maybe I’m not as great as you thought me to be.’
‘Or maybe you’ve been lying all this time,’ said Vanyir slowly. He stepped over towards the window, only an arm’s reach away from the seer. ‘Yes, maybe you’ve been telling me rumours around the Black Fortress, or even from somewhere else.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Sheena briskly.
‘But why?’ asked Vanyir, more to himself than her. ‘Maybe you have someone you want to protect … or someone you need to protect.’ He glanced her way. ‘Am I right, Miss Sheena Marr?’
The girl gasped, staggered back a few steps, and the back of her knees found the edges of her bed. She toppled onto the cot with a shaken expression on her face.
‘That isn’t my name!’ she spat.
Vanyir advanced towards her, now grinning like someone who had just won a fierce battle. The girl shrunk away, crawling in reverse until her back was up against the wall. Trapped in a corner with nowhere to run, Sheena prepared herself for the worst – whatever that may be.
‘Living as long as I have, I know a lot of things that most people don’t,’ said Vanyir informatively. ‘For starters, did you know that the Outlands were in fact one of the greatest racing spots of all time?’ Sheena rapidly shook her head. ‘Yet over the years, it has withered away into a blistering desert. Work of the pathetic dragons, no doubt. Then the outcasts came in droves and the racetracks faded away into nothing. Your people – or ancestors, I should say – were the first to start up the famous Dragon Marauders. Back then it was called Dragonius Thievius.’
‘How do you know all that?’ enquired Sheena, more curious than afraid now.
‘An unusual clan, your people are,’ said Vanyir, ignoring her question. ‘The women of the clan – when married – keep their last name, so the line never dies.’ He held a strand of her hair between his fingers. ‘Did you know that all of the children of Marr have red hair?’
‘Marr isn’t –’
‘Oh yes,’ cut in Vanyir. ‘Marr is a person. In fact, I once had the pleasure of meeting her. It was a long time ago, and I really can’t remember what happened to her afterwards, but she had no last name, and so she gave her first to her children. They were the children of the desert, and were forever bound to live there.’ Vanyir smiled. ‘Makes a good story, doesn’t it?’
Sheena now glared up at him. ‘If you knew who I was –’
‘I always knew who you were,’ interrupted Vanyir once more. ‘I just didn’t know if one of your parents had been a seer or not. I was told that an oracle was hiding in Gunclove. I guess we snatched up the wrong person. These things happen.’
‘Mistakes happen, you mean,’ said Sheena bluntly. ‘There is no seer in Gunclove, nor anywhere else. You’ve been mistaken.’
‘Still protecting the real one, I see,’ said Vanyir with a sigh. ‘Who is it? Maybe the one who was riding with you on that day? … Your brother, was it?’
‘Leave him alone,’ said Sheena through gritted teeth. ‘Neither of my parents were seers. Neither of us are seers.’
‘Then who is it?’ growled Vanyir, becoming impatient with her. ‘You must know. Why else would you continue pretending to be someone you’re not? You know who this person is. I know you do.’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Sheena. ‘If you want the real truth, I’ll tell you, but only if you promise to let me go afterwards.’
Vanyir inclined his head. ‘Fine, let’s make that deal.’
Sheena took a deep breath. ‘I was collecting information from outside the door,’ she admitted. ‘I continued to pretend to be a seer because I thought you were going to kill me if I didn’t predict anything you asked of me. So I went through the trouble of learning everything I could before you came. Sometimes I don’t get good stories and so I only give a sketchy prophecy. … That’s why,’ she finished.
Vanyir studied the girl’s expression for a while and then snorted. ‘You’re lying to me,’ he concluded, turning around and heading for the door. ‘Until you tell me the truth, you’ll remain here.’ He looked over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. ‘Remember, Sheena … I feel pity for the weak, but for traitors and liars … I feel only hatred.’
With that spoken, Vanyir locked the door again and continued back up to his own chamber. He was getting tired and his eyes were heavy. Vanyir reached his hand inside his pocket, feeling for the familiar item that had hidden there for years. A warmness touched his fingers as they wrapped around the half-circle object. These days it seemed the Crimson Stone was more alive than ever. Only a few nights back it had burned his index finger and a hole right through his pants pocket. The shock that overwhelmed him after he discovered the stone missing had been enough to kill him. Luckily, Rais had found it. If it had fallen into untrustworthy hands … well, Vanyir could not be sure of what might have happened, but it could have turned into a real mess.
Then there was that girl … the one with the Sapphire Stone within her possession. Who she was and what she was doing with the stone was beyond his knowledge. The crazy idea that she might have been a descendant of Lucian passed through his mind, but he vanquished that idea the moment it developed. Lucian Reeve had not crossed his thoughts for many years, and he refused to think about that traitor. If Lucian had only assumed the role beside him, took up swords with him, and forgot about the dragons … he would still be alive today. Instead, he had chosen …
‘Death,’ muttered Vanyir, his eyes surveying the city through the windows of his dark room, ‘and it lies upon my land, too.’ He leaned indolently against the glass. Emerald eyes shone back at him in the reflection of the window, eyes that had seen the world and much more in their years of observing, eyes that were filled with darkness and pain.
‘This is all your fault,’ he whispered at his own reflection. ‘You did this. If you had only listened …’
A raindrop tickled down the glass and Vanyir glanced up at the brooding sky. The clouds always gathered above his tower, even in perfect weather, blocking out the sun as a punishment for him. A storm was on its way tonight, which was not uncommon in Vashgal, but Vanyir knew the tempest brought other things besides rain and wind.
Leaving the window, the Dragon King slowly made his way to the back of his room. He followed the long, red runner in his black, leather boots and circled around his steel chair. He passed his bed at the very back and wandered over to the leftmost side of the room, where – concealed by a hanging red curtain – there stood a door. After pushing back the curtain and sliding open the door, Vanyir en
tered a long, dark stairway leading upwards. This was the only way to the top of the tower, and he was the only one who used it. He liked standing at the pinnacle of the world and looking down upon it whenever he felt the need to do so. Tonight was one of those nights.
The air at the top of the Black Fortress was much colder than it was far below in the city streets. Vanyir was used to this coldness by now. His long, heavy trench coat was warmer than it looked, and his entire outfit had been designed over the years for the most extreme weather. With a thousand years behind your back you had a lot of time to think about everything, and that included clothes.
A few drayskuls were flying freely nearby, most likely fighting over something or another by the look of it. Vanyir turned his attention away from the beasts and towards the lights in the far distance. From the peak of his tower he could see the lights coming from towns within the Outlands far to the west. It was past the looming, dark shadow of the forest, which Vanyir hated beyond words. Algaroth he had named it long ago, and in those woods was his prize, which he longed to grasp within his hands.
Another sight caught his interest then. In the lands the light touched, past the Black Fortress and Vashgal, above the trees of Algaroth where the moonlight caressed its tops, a silvery glow seemed to hover. Vanyir did not know if it was a drayskul or a dragon with the moon’s gleam on its back, or if it was just a figure of his imagination. The latter would have been more reassuring right now, but his heart was beating faster by the second. He wished for more light and for the slight rain to stop completely. The distance was far to see, but Vanyir was almost positive in what he saw.
With a dry throat and his heart pounding in his ears, he managed to whisper one word.
‘Ghalgaun.’
~ Chapter Eighteen ~
Vashgal, the Dragon Graveyard
‘This isn’t a good idea,’ murmured Emma, crouching as low to the ground as possible.
‘It’s the closest thing we have to an actual plan of action,’ said Mystic in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Now be quiet for a few moments and listen.’
Emma sighed and tried to see through the thick branches and bushes, but all she could perceive was a faint glow shining off the tree trunks. Someone had started a fire in the forest; the only problem was that they didn’t know who had started it. Simon and Matt both had matches on them, but Emma had no idea if the thieves came well prepared. Then there were the Dark Riders, which Emma doubted had all left the woods. Sometimes it felt as though one of them was just lurking out of sight behind her, and glancing over her shoulder gave her some form of relief.
‘I don’t hear anything,’ whispered Emma, and then tried to decide if she’d rather leave while she had the chance or venture closer towards the camp to get a better look.
‘I do,’ said the cat. ‘There are at least two people there, but I don’t hear any dragons.’ He tapped his paw against his chin. ‘This could turn out either very bad … or extremely bad.’
‘What does that mean?’ hissed Emma.
‘Think about it,’ replied Mystic, glancing up at her. ‘If they are Dark Riders, they have no steeds, but if it’s two of our group, then their dragons have gone missing.’
‘Oh,’ muttered Emma, and folded her arms across her chest. ‘Should we just charge out there?’ she asked sarcastically.
‘Course not,’ said Mystic, choosing to ignore the joke, ‘but we need to get closer.’
The two of them crept through the undergrowth – Mystic with a little more stealth than Emma – and grew so close to the campsite that faint whispers could be heard. Emma dared not raise her head in case one of them might see her, and the cat perked his ears, eager to listen in.
‘… don’t know that for sure,’ said a male voice, ‘but none of the others –’
‘They may be dead too,’ said a female briskly.
Emma regarded that this was the first time she had ever heard this strange, clear voice. The other was so surprisingly familiar …
‘Ah,’ said Mystic, his tone slightly disgusted, ‘it’s that thief.’
‘Flynn!’ exclaimed Emma quietly, now remembering to whom the voice belonged. She jumped up from her crouching position and emerged through the trees, snapping and rustling the bushes with such a racket that Mystic groaned and rolled his eyes.
The two thieves sitting by the fire had pulled out their weapons when they heard the commotion, but Flynn actually flashed a smile at the sight of another survivor. Though, Emma got the feeling that he was more happy to see Mystic alive than her.
‘Thought you were all lost to the forest,’ said Flynn, sheathing his sword. ‘Good to see you’re all right.’
‘Then … you haven’t seen anyone else?’ asked Emma disappointedly.
‘Not a soul,’ replied the thief. ‘The four of us are lucky to be alive,’ he added, glancing around at everyone. ‘I’d really like to know how the Dark Riders found us so quickly, though. It’d be impossible to follow anyone through the forest.’
‘That is strange, isn’t it?’ said Mystic mordantly, and wandered over to sit by the fire. ‘The Dark Riders are skilled in tracking. This was nothing for them. Next time they might have a slightly easier challenge. Past the forest are the barren lands, and I doubt they’d have any trouble finding their way around their own home.’
Flynn clicked his tongue. ‘No doubt at all,’ he said quietly.
The girl who accompanied Flynn, whose name Emma had misplaced several times and now remembered as Lanai, whispered something to her companion before heading off towards the dark trees. Emma noticed long strands of white in her black hair that she was sure were not there before.
‘Lanai has lost her dragon,’ said Flynn, once the girl had disappeared within the woods. ‘The drayskul that chased her and Titus attacked her and then proceeded to catch the other. There’s not much time to defend yourself from one of those monsters before you realize they’re upon you. I can only hope that Titus didn’t …’ He broke off suddenly, shaking his head sadly.
‘Another lost dragon,’ whispered Mystic, staring at the crackling fire. ‘Such a shame … and it adds to the dying world.’
‘What?’ said Flynn, though Emma was positive that he had heard the cat clearly. ‘What about this “dying world”? What are you talking about?’
‘Nothing,’ murmured Mystic, yawning slightly. ‘Doesn’t concern you, really.’ He shut one eye and left the other lingering on Emma. ‘I’m going to get some sleep, and you should too, and don’t stay up all night long chitchatting with him about everything you’ve learned, either.’ He closed both eyes. ‘I don’t want to wander into Vashgal’s front yard with –’ he yawned again ‘– with a girl too tired to see straight and –’
‘I know,’ said Emma, flashing Mystic an exasperated look.
‘Just saying,’ murmured the cat, and then curled into his usual sleeping position.
An uneasy silence befell the two humans, as Emma had nothing to say to Flynn and he had nothing to say to her. Not the first time this night, Emma wished that Simon were here with her too. Mystic was a wonderful storyteller and she learned information from him more quickly than she did from the others, but he was often too blunt or brusque to carry on an actual conversation with. Simon always had a certain carefree air to him that inspired what Emma liked to refer to as ‘normalness’ within this strange world. Not only that, but somehow she felt a little more … safe with him than she did with a tiny cat, despite Mystic’s constant assurance that everything was – and would be – fine.
There was absolutely nothing fine about Emma’s situation, though. She was the farthest from fine than she had ever been, and that thought stuck with her throughout the entire night. Rustling in the trees and owls hooting somewhere in the distance caused her to arouse from her slumber several times, and she half expected not to have decent sleep at all, but when rest came so did the dreams.
It was more of a nightmare, however, when she thought back on it in the morning. She was stan
ding beside a bus stop for some reason, and next to her stood another person, cloaked heavily in black from head to toe. She was laughing with him – laughing with the Dark Rider – until the bus pulled up. But it was not a bus. It was a dragon and she was getting on it. The Dark Rider stayed where he was though, and pulled down his hood, a sad expression on his face. The strangest part about the dream was that the Dark Rider was actually Matt, and she had seemed unconcerned about this.
When the dragon spread its wings to fly away, she waved and smiled at Matt, who – in return – waved back.
‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,’ Flynn was saying to Mystic, who looked so irritated that Emma was surprised that the cat did not pounce on the thief.
They were walking again, following a route away from the path Emma would have rather taken – the path Redfyre had made while running away from the drayskul. Flynn was determined to find Copper and, even though there had been protests to this, neither Emma or Mystic could have done anything about it. Lanai’s hair was as black as ever and Emma believed that she had only imagined seeing white strands in it before.
‘Stupidest,’ spat Mystic, as though it was the nastiest word he had ever heard. ‘I’m telling you the truth, whether you believe it or not. We are on our way to kill Vanyir.’
Emma wished the cat was not so blunt about the whole thing. She certainly was not going to be the one to do anything like that, not even to an evil, world-destroying bad guy.
Flynn laughed so hard that Lanai gave him a reproachful look. ‘Kill the Dragon Lord?’ he said. ‘The Dragon King, the master of the east, the leader of the Black Fortress! Honestly,’ he looked down at the cat, ‘it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.’
Mystic simply glared up at the thief. ‘You are more impudent than Wheeler,’ he muttered.
‘Do you know – in the whole history of Dragonis – that no one has actually even seen Vanyir’s face?’ said Flynn. ‘This guy is strong, not to mention smart, and you think you can just march up to his front porch and kill him?’
The Secret World of Dragons Page 19
