by J. R. Castle
Quinn’s fingers trembled as he levered off the seal and unrolled the scroll once again:
To the Commanders of the Twelve Garrisons of the Islands,
His Imperial Highness, the Emperor Vayn, Ruler of Alariss, hereby commands all garrisons to recruit new forces. The Black Guard must be strengthened to ensure peace in our lands. The dragonblood menace must not be allowed to return!
Below the message from the Emperor, in a different hand, a word from local Guard Leader Goric – well known and despised – summoned the recipient of the command to the Yaross Garrison.
It was real. Quinn was going to be a Black Guard trainee, one of the Emperor’s elite, defending the realm just like he’d imagined. He would get the magical black armour and a real sword and travel the Twelve Islands from Nixia to Yaross.
It was true that a lot of the guards Quinn had met were cruel bullies, and he’d heard some terrible stories about them whispered around the village. He knew first-hand about Goric and his quick fists – but he wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t treat ordinary people like dirt. He’d be working for the good of the Islands and the Emperor. And besides … who wanted to be a washer boy for the rest of their life?
But now he realised that he would have to tell Aunt Marta, and a wave of sickness came over him. He’d avoided telling her the night before – the argument about the sheets had still hung in the air like a dark cloud – but he couldn’t delay any longer. Quinn was all she had, and he was supposed to report to the garrison that morning.
He straightened up, forgetting his aches, and pulled aside the heavy curtain that separated his corner of the cottage from the living area.
Marta was already up, hunched over a sheet in the firelight, neatly darning a hole in one of Quinn’s socks. She looked peaceful and calm, her greying hair bunched up on top of her head.
She smiled up at him, all traces of yesterday’s argument gone. ‘You’re up early.’
Quinn grinned weakly. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Well then, have some breakfast, nephew.’
‘I-I have something you need to see …’ he stuttered.
‘After you eat, Quinn,’ Marta replied.
‘No, Aunt. Now.’ He fumbled in his shirt and pulled out the scroll.
Marta took it, frowning, and unrolled it in the light from the fire. As she slowly read the words, the colour drained from her face. She turned to Quinn, wide-eyed, desperate-looking, and clutched his arm weakly.
‘No …’
Quinn stared back at her. No? How could she just say no?
‘I have to. The guards … It’s not a question, it’s an order!’ Quinn exclaimed, grabbing back the scroll and stuffing it into his shirt.
‘No! I can’t allow it!’ Marta cried, with a note of terror in her voice.
Quinn took a step back. ‘But I thought you might be pleased. No more laundry work, no more darning sheets. We don’t have to be poor any more!’
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I care nothing for riches!’
‘Well I care nothing for sheets!’ he argued. ‘I can’t stay here forever!’
His aunt just stared at him through teary eyes. ‘I know that, Nephew,’ she started. ‘But there’s so much you don’t know. So much you don’t understand. I wanted to wait until you were older – I didn’t want to burden you with this yet …’
‘What are you talking about?’
Marta looked like she’d aged twenty years. He’d always known his aunt was old, but she’d never looked it. Not until now. She looked … scared.
‘… Now I have no choice.’ She looked up at Quinn, who was already a head taller than her, and sighed. ‘The things you’ve been taught about dragons are wrong.’
Quinn’s shoulders slumped. ‘Not this again.’
She was always hinting that the Dragon Knights weren’t so bad, but whenever he asked what she meant, she just shook her head. He loved his aunt, but he just didn’t get it.
‘Everyone knows what the Dragon Knights did. They killed the Emperor, one of their dragonblood. They betrayed the kingdom.’
Marta sank back and shook her head. ‘I wasn’t always a washerwoman, you know. I didn’t always live on Yaross Island.’
That got Quinn’s attention. He frowned. ‘You didn’t?’ Surely she’d always been here, in this muddy hut, scrubbing away at sheets. But then, his parents hadn’t been from Yaross Island, so maybe Marta wasn’t either.
‘I was a high-born lady,’ Marta said.
‘You?’ He stared, then blushed, realising how rude he sounded. ‘Sorry.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s fine. It’s good. You weren’t supposed to know – it was safer that way. I was one of the old Empress Isaria’s ladies-in-waiting.’ She smiled, staring into the fire. ‘I lived in the Imperial Castle in the time of the Dragon Knights. I knew some of them. The Empress was like a sister to me.’
Quinn’s mouth hung open. ‘You knew them? But … the Dragon Knights were evil.’
‘Haven’t I told you not to trust what the Black Guard say, Quinn?’ Marta frowned. ‘Why trust the people who oppress us?’
Quinn began to feel like the floor was shifting from under him – like things weren’t as certain as he’d once believed.
‘But wasn’t it worse before … in the old days with the dragons?’
Marta plucked a pinch of dust from the floor of the hut, then lifted it to her lips and whispered something. Quinn felt the familiar tingle of magic. Marta tossed the dust into the fire.
‘Watch … and learn the truth.’
The flames reared up in the small fireplace, twisting and splitting apart. Quinn stared at them. Through the magic smoke an image formed of a gigantic castle perched on a low hill. Great sloping stone walls reached high into the sky. Behind them stood a palace with thirteen enormous angular towers, one for each of the main islands and a tall, central tower, for the Imperial Family.
‘Is that the Imperial Castle?’ Quinn asked. He’d only ever imagined it. But he hadn’t dreamed it would be so big. You could drop the whole of his village into it and it would be lost in that place.
His aunt nodded.
Above the castle, in the flames, vast dragons circled ominously.
Quinn stared at them, his heart racing. They were even more terrifying than he’d imagined.
‘They’re attacking the castle,’ Quinn said. ‘I said they were evil. How can you defend them?’
‘Watch,’ his aunt said again.
The great shapes of the dragons were just below him. If he reached towards the fire, he would be able to touch them. Brightly coloured scales glittered. Muscles bunched and stretched beneath the skin. Just seeing how powerful they were made Quinn shiver.
Beneath the dragons stood the Black Guard. He couldn’t even count how many of them there were.
‘What’s happening?’ Quinn whispered. He thought the Black Guard were supposed to be on the same side as the Imperial Guard. What were they doing outside the castle?
The red dragon below Quinn roared, and fire billowed from its mouth.
‘We are the last line of defence.’ The red dragon’s voice echoed through Marta’s magic, distant but clear. ‘All others have fallen. There is nowhere else to retreat. We swore our lives to this. Now is the time to fulfil that oath. Defend the castle!’
As the army of Black Guard below began its charge, the red dragon dropped towards them.
Quinn watched in growing confusion as, one by one, the dragons launched attacks against the Black Guard, then, as the fog rose around them, the dragons fell.
This wasn’t the way it had been told to him. The dragons had been the ones who murdered the Emperor and his family. That’s what everyone had said. Yet here was the Black Guard attacking the castle.
Quinn saw the dragons brought down and what looked like a metal bracelet being clamped onto their ankles. Then he saw Vayn stride into the palace and proclaim himself Emperor.
The flames died a
way.
‘The manacles,’ Quinn gawped. ‘So, that’s what it is to be bound …’
‘Yes,’ Marta explained. ‘They trap the Dragon Knights in their human form.’
‘So they can’t harm anyone?’
‘So they can’t harm Vayn,’ Marta continued. ‘Vayn murdered the Emperor and Empress and other high-born people – heirs – too. He blamed the Dragon Knights. He exiled them.’
Quinn looked down at the scroll in disbelief. The Black Guard were the traitors. They were the murderers, not the Dragon Knights. All their bullying and stealing wasn’t to protect the Islands. They were just thieves.
Now he was supposed to become one of them and swear allegiance to Vayn, the man who had murdered his own brother to become Emperor?
He couldn’t do it. Everything he had been taught had turned out to be false and now he knew the truth.
And the truth changed everything …
CHAPTER 3
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR
‘What am I going to do?’ Quinn cried, staring blankly at Marta. He was supposed to report to the barracks this morning but he couldn’t go and join the Black Guard. Not now he knew that they were liars and that Emperor Vayn had stolen the throne. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I couldn’t put you in danger. Knowledge is a powerful thing in Alariss,’ his aunt said. ‘There is no other option, now. We must run!’ she cried. She grabbed a bag and began shoving things into it. ‘I brought you here to the farthest of the Islands to get you away from the Black Guard. You have been safe for twelve years and I will not let them have you now. Get everything you need. We must leave within the hour.’
Quinn scrambled up, his heart pounding. Yesterday, all he’d been worried about was being in trouble for knocking over the laundry. Today, he had to run away from everything he’d ever known.
He snatched up a bag and headed for his corner of the cottage. He rummaged through his few possessions and bundled in some clothes. Suddenly he remembered his father’s knife, the only thing of value that had been left to him, and rushed to the high shelf where he kept it safe.
‘Quinn, wait!’ Marta cried out, before he had a chance to grab it. ‘There’s something else I have to tell you. Something important. You —’
Before she could finish, a loud thumping sounded from the door, and a harsh voice shouted out:
‘Open up, in the name of the Emperor!’
Quinn froze. It had to be the Black Guard.
‘We have to go – now!’ he hissed.
Behind him, Marta put her finger to her lips and urged Quinn to be quiet. She picked up a handful of dust from the floor and whispered into it once more, muttering a barring spell. Slowly, magic pulsed its way through the air, pushing against the door like a pair of invisible hands.
‘Go!’ Marta said under her breath. ‘I’ll hold them off.’
Quinn started for the back door, but just then something came crashing into their home. Hinges splintered and the barring spell shattered. Marta stumbled back as an enormous armoured figure strode in, his head brushing against the top of the wooden doorway.
Quinn shot a look at the back door. Even if he could reach it, there were bound to be other guards outside their home. He’d have to make for the forest, or maybe the river – but either one would involve crossing half the village. He was fast, but didn’t know if he was that fast, and the guards’ swords were very long and very sharp.
Marta shook her head, as though she knew what Quinn was thinking.
Slowly, the guard looked from their half-packed bags, to the scroll lying by the fireplace, to Quinn’s stricken face. How could this look like anything other than what it was? It couldn’t have been any more obvious that they were about to flee if he’d scribbled it on a sign and hung it around his neck.
Marta dropped to the ground and bowed before the guard. Quinn copied her.
‘What have we done to receive the honour of your visit, Goric?’ Marta asked courteously, her words muffled by the floor. Quinn knew his aunt well enough to recognise the tremble in her voice. She was afraid, and with good reason. Goric was the captain of the Black Guard on Yaross Island. Compared to Goric, the guards Quinn had met the day before were just irritating fleas.
‘Why did you bar your door with magic, Marta?’ Goric said, coldly. ‘Does the name of the Emperor mean nothing to you? Do you plan treason?’
Quinn shuddered. Goric would do anything to make life difficult for him and Marta. Once, when Quinn was just a baby, Goric had wanted to marry Marta, but she had turned him down. He had held a grudge ever since. Looking at the brutal man with the curling lip, cold blue eyes and icy pale skin, Quinn shuddered to imagine him being part of their family. Goric had never hesitated to use those great big fists on any of the villagers who irritated him.
‘No, Goric,’ Marta whispered. ‘We honour the Emperor.’
‘Honour,’ Goric hissed. ‘You have no honour.’ He tore down a line of damp laundry that stretched across the middle of the hut. ‘You never did. But today I have come to teach you about honour. When my men told me they’d recruited your nephew, I thought I’d do you the honour of collecting him myself.’ He stamped over to where Quinn still knelt, head pressed against the ground. All Quinn could see were the big boots and the shiny black armour above. ‘After all, we wouldn’t want any accident to befall him that would prevent him making it to the garrison.’
Quinn shivered. Goric made it sound like a threat. He had been waiting for years to get revenge on Marta. This was just the excuse he’d been looking for.
To think Quinn had imagined joining the Black Guard trainees might be a great adventure – now he knew it was going to be a nightmare.
His hands trembled where he clutched at the floor. He was having trouble breathing.
Then, he felt something strange wash over him – Marta’s magic! It slowed his pulse and calmed his breathing. He felt able to think more clearly. He glanced across at her. She smiled, and suddenly he felt something heavy materialise in his pocket. Marta had transported something there! His eyes widened. Marta nodded, and mouthed, ‘Ready?’
Ready? He wanted to say. Ready for what?
But he didn’t have time. Marta leapt to her feet and her magic surged. Quinn felt it lash out like a whip. The magic pulsed out from Marta in colourful rays, like nothing Quinn had seen before. She’d always had so little magic – or seemed to. It was as if it had all been saved up for this one moment.
Goric staggered – his armour was far too strong for the magic, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t caught off balance by its powerful blast. He tumbled backwards, clutching on to the wet sheets that hung above him, pulling them down as he crashed to the floor. The glasses and plates in the cottage shattered, sending shards slicing through the air. The floor shook with energy. This was Quinn’s moment; his aunt was giving him a chance.
‘Now!’ Marta yelled to Quinn. ‘Run!’
CHAPTER 4
UP IN FLAMES
Quinn hit the back door with his shoulder and barged it open. He stumbled through, put his head down and ran.
Behind him, he heard Goric roar in anger and something smash inside the cottage as he took out his fury on their furniture. If Quinn could get to the forest, he could hide and he would be safe. The Guard wouldn’t chase him in; it was too tangled and dark, and everyone knew there were things in there that you didn’t want to mess with. Then he could go back for Marta.
The door smashed off its hinges behind Quinn, and Goric pushed his way out.
‘Stop him!’ the Captain of the Guard yelled.
Quinn couldn’t let that happen. He sprinted across the yard, legs pumping. He pushed his hair away from his eyes to clear his sight, and only just in time. One of the guards loomed up in front of him. Quinn darted around him, but his foot slipped and he almost fell. He pushed himself up and ran on.
Just another hundred yards, he thought, and I’ll be free!
He put on a burst of speed.
/> Quinn saw two enormous black figures step out from behind a neighbouring house. He tried to dodge them, but he was running too fast. One of the guards caught him by his arm, spun him around and threw him to the ground. The breath exploded out of Quinn’s chest. His head swam as his skull bounced off the hard earth, dirt clouding his vision.
Before he could even blink his eyes clear, the guard had hauled him up. Quinn struggled, but the other guard smacked him around the head. Quinn felt suddenly sick.
‘Stop struggling or I’ll do more than bruise your head,’ the guard growled.
Quinn let out a cry as the first guard twisted his arm behind his back. He recognised him as Jarin, the one who’d mocked him the day before.
The other guard grabbed his arm – Rowena. Together, they dragged him back to the cottage. As they reached it, Quinn saw Goric emerge. The captain’s face was still red with anger, and he was hauling Marta behind him like a sack of turnips. She looked only half conscious.
‘Let her go!’ Quinn shouted. Goric’s black metal gauntlet squeezed her thin arm so tight Quinn was sure he was going to break it.
‘As you wish, Quinn,’ Goric smirked, as he threw Marta down on the ground. She landed loosely and Quinn winced. Goric turned to his guards with a cruel laugh. ‘Burn the house!’
‘NO!’ Quinn yelled. He struggled with the guards, but they were too strong.
Rowena left Jarin to hold Quinn back and grabbed a thick branch from the woodpile. She dashed into the house and returned with the branch aflame, lit from Marta’s own fire. She flashed Quinn a sinister grin, then tossed the torch onto the thatched roof. Quinn watched as the flames caught and the dry straw started to crackle. He threw himself forward, but Jarin jerked him back. He saw the fire leap across the roof as though it were alive, and there was nothing he could do about it.
