by Lisa McMann
“Then,” said Fifer, noticing it, “let’s begin.”
They wasted no time. Fifer whistled for her birds to take flight. Simber bounded and jumped, rising quickly with his passengers. Fifer and Simber led the charge side by side, while the pair of ghost dragons and their riders came right behind.
As they neared the mansion, Florence reminded the ghost dragons of their task in case they’d forgotten. Fifer and her birds, who had a different task, split off from the group, heading for the jungle. “I’ll see you soon,” she called out. “I believe in you!”
The rest of the group circled overhead. Simber and the dragons each belted out a mighty roar, giving fair warning of their presence to the dissenters in Artimé, and even waking up several of them who’d fallen asleep at their windows after guarding them all night. They stumbled into action and began firing components haphazardly into the air, missing wildly due to the distance of the attackers and the awkward angles at which they were throwing, upward and through the window frames.
Florence, taking point and calling the plays, kept one hand in the air for everyone to see. She made a motion prompting everyone to circle again, trying to coax the enemy out. When a few brave dissenters began climbing through the windows to get a better angle for attack, Florence dropped her arm and shouted, “Dragons, go! Carefully, please! Everyone else, use your rides as your shields and defend as necessary.”
On Florence’s command, the dragons split up and dropped to opposite sides of the mansion’s vast roof. While digging their claws under the eaves and making a tremendous scraping sound that reverberated through the mansion, the dragons roared again, sending dissenters running in fear, in and out through the windows, unsure of where they would be safer. Thisbe and the other fighters on the backs of the fliers took careful aim whenever they saw opportunities to knock out dissenters without killing them. A few dropped. But not nearly enough.
Florence called out again to the dragons gripping the roof, and Gorgrun and Quince strained and pulled upward, sending showers of sparks and sprays of fire down on the mansion. With several earsplitting cracks, the entire roof broke off and wobbled in the dragons’ grip, nearly plunging off one side to the ground. But Gorgrun adjusted and caught the corner with his tail just in time.
A moment later the dragons coordinated their moves and lifted the roof higher into the air, taking the ceiling and remaining chandelier chains and other fixtures with it. They carefully flew it to the ground nearby as people’s voices inside the mansion exploded in fear and horror and protest. The ghost dragons returned to the space above the mansion with their fighters. Florence and the other riders leaned over and looked down inside the exposed second floor, where all of the living quarters were, and the breezy, huge entry area of the mansion, which had no upper level above it. Frantic dissenters were scrambling and running like ants whose farm had been uncovered. But there were few places to hide.
“This is shocking to watch,” Thisbe said. She cringed as she pelted the people below. She’d known the mansion as her home for as long as she could remember. Now the dragons were taking it apart like it was some sort of construction game.
“Stay focused,” said Sky, acting as a lookout. “Hold on to hope that we can restore it.”
Florence watched the dissenters flood into the classrooms on the first floor, which offered them the most protection under the circumstances. “Just like we planned,” she called to Quince. “This is our cue. Do you remember what to do? Take us right down into the middle of that big entryway.”
Quince had a look of glee on his face as he prefaced his landing with a burst of sparks to push the remaining dissenters out of the way. Florence winced, hoping he hadn’t set the whole mansion on fire, but all seemed okay. He centered himself over the space, then held his wings up and fluttered them to lower himself down. As he landed inside the once-beautiful structure, one foot hit the bottom part of the staircase and crushed a couple of the steps into powder.
Thisbe cringed, but she didn’t stop taking shots whenever she could safely do so, all the while staying low on the dragon’s back and dodging fire from the dissenters.
People in the upper-level residence hallways who’d been suddenly uncovered turned and ran into their rooms, locking themselves in. But of course they had no ceiling or roof overhead in there, either. They dove into tubes and closets and under their beds, but most were still visible to the fighters from Grimere above them.
Gorgrun hovered in place, positioning his black-eyed passengers to give them every advantage to take out the dissenters with their newly learned magic and dragon fire. All of them began shooting fiery blasts at the dissenters. Sometimes they started small blazes that would drive the people out of their hiding spots. Then they’d hit the dissenters with fire-step and minor explosion spells they’d learned from Florence. Once they cleared a section of rooms, Gorgrun would circle around and hover again over a different part. The black-eyed children would repeat the task, taking aim in every nook and cranny, spraying fire down every hallway from back to front, forcing the people to the balcony and down the stairs, leaving scorch marks everywhere but keeping the place from totally going up in flames.
Simber, dwarfed and almost nimble compared to the dragons, swooped down on the main floor with his magic- and sword-wielding riders and skillfully flew through the mansion’s hallways, which by design were just wide enough for him. This was his territory, and he knew the main floor better than anyone in Artimé. Plus, his ability to see, hear, and smell was so far above the rest of theirs that everyone had full faith he would leave no stone unturned, no dissenter hidden. But where was Frieda? He hadn’t spotted her yet.
The great cheetah twisted and turned through the halls, the vast kitchen, the classrooms, and the dining room, plowing down anyone in his way. On his back, Thisbe and Rohan pelted everybody they could reach with components and tried to keep themselves protected from getting struck by return components. Sky, leaning off to one side, took deep swipes and jabs with her sword at anyone trying to get past them. When Rohan got hit by scatterclips, he went soaring and slammed into the chef’s giant pantry doors, sticking there. Simber quickly zoomed around, and they picked him up. Sky grabbed a few knives from the butcher block while they were stopped, and then they were off to gather up the hiding dissenters once more.
In the entryway, dissenters kept their distance from the dragon. Florence slid off Quince’s back, and Kaylee and Ishibashi followed, staying close behind the warrior woman for protection from flying components. As they moved through the space, Florence held off anyone trying to rush at them, and Kaylee and Ishibashi used their throwing stars to take down any menacing approaching attackers. Florence sliced the air with components in rapid succession, turning clockwise in a circle and striking dissenters at every tick. The panicked crowds that were rushing down the stairs from their rooms skirted around the enormous dragon and began clambering for the exits. Many of them crashed to the ground in mid-escape after being hit by a spell from Simber’s team passing through.
When the enemy activity around Florence slowed down, Quince swiped his tail from side to side, rounding up enchanted dissenters and placing them in piles near the windows that faced the lawn. Florence and her team cautiously began picking up and tossing frozen and otherwise incapacitated dissenters outside in preparation for the next step of their plan.
Then Quince noticed a rogue group of dissenters whose spells had worn off trying to sneak back in through the door by the kitchen. Their sights were on Thisbe as she rode by on Simber, and they were poised to knock her flat and bring her to Frieda Stubbs, as the woman had requested. But Quince saw them coming and blew a huge fiery breath down the hallway in their direction. He turned them to charcoal and accidentally set the broken tubes on fire, requiring help putting it out from Gorgrun’s team. After that, Florence sent Quince back outside to assist Gorgrun and the Grimere fighters.
Things were miraculously going better than expected, but there were two que
stions on Florence’s mind: First, where was Frieda Stubbs? Florence had been searching for any sign of the woman, but found none. And second, why hadn’t Fifer arrived yet? She should have been here by now. Florence desperately hoped that Fifer wasn’t having any problems with her part of the plan—that could be devastating for more than just her. And now more of the frozen people were thawing, which meant Florence had to start fresh with a new round of freeze spells. With so few spell casters, things were getting dicey. If everyone started waking up at once, they’d have a brand-new battle on their hands, only this time they’d be scattered and without a plan. Florence dug in, pelting everybody she could find who was stirring, and wishing Simber would come back with Thisbe, Rohan, and Sky—she could use the help.
Luckily, one of Florence’s questions was answered when fresh screams arose from the lawn. The mansion shook and rattled like it was sitting on top of a giant beating heart. Florence rushed to the windows to see the rock barreling across the lawn from the jungle with Panther bounding beside her at a frantic clip. Following behind them was the source of the shaking—the stomping, roaring mastodon, Ol’ Tater, whom Fifer had brought to life. Panther and the rock kept just out of Ol’ Tater’s reach, wanting the beast to follow them but knowing he would turn on them in an instant, for he had been created without any sense of right or wrong and would stomp on anything or anyone if given the chance.
High above Ol’ Tater, Fifer and her birds were heading toward the mansion.
“Thank goodness,” Florence muttered, laying down a row of dissenters who were struggling to their feet. “Simber!” she shouted, and in seconds the cheetah screeched around a corner and flew to Florence’s side, his riders slipping and sliding as they tried to hang on. “It’s time,” Florence told him. “Leave Thisbe with me—you can keep Rohan and Sky, but Kaylee, Ishibashi, and I need a little more help here. Run out the back way and speak to Panther first. I’ll set Fifer in motion.”
“Got it,” said Simber.
Thisbe slid off, and Simber galloped down the hallway with Sky and Rohan past what was left of the smoldering tubes. Thisbe saw them and gasped. Could that situation get any worse? Now what were they going to do? There weren’t answers. Instead, Thisbe turned her attention back to the dissenters, more of whom were thawing from being frozen.
“Help me keep them from escaping,” Florence said, but Thisbe was already firing off components and freeze spells, inside and through the windows at the bodies on the lawn. Once Simber was outside, Florence signaled above to Fifer and her birds to be ready.
Fifer signaled back to let Florence know she understood. She shouted orders to her jungle companions.
In response, the rock came to a sliding halt near the fountain, sending a long ribbon of sod flying into the air and pelting disoriented Artiméans. Ol’ Tater slowed down, then tried to stomp on the rock, but he couldn’t lift his foot high enough. So he did no harm to the rock, but he continued trying, and the pursuit kept Ol’ Tater occupied for the moment, which was helpful. The rock opened his giant mouth and waited for the plan Florence had talked to him about to begin.
Simber, with his passengers, ran up to Panther and touched noses with her in greeting. Sky and Rohan eyed the black cat warily. Her fangs dripped with saliva and were a little too close for comfort. Rohan drew his legs up in front of him.
Panther was a bit of a wild card, but she listened to Simber. In Panther’s ear he whispered, “Rrround up the fleeing ones and chase them into the rrrock’s mouth. Trrry not to bite anyone unless they’rrre rrreally annoying.”
Panther crouched and backed up. With an earsplitting screech, she sprinted into action, tearing across the lawn and circling around the dissenters. Ol’ Tater saw her moving and gave up on stomping the rock. He pursued her instead and, in the process, essentially kept the dissenters from daring to make any moves at all for fear of him turning on them. Panther herded these captured foes toward the rock. With her fangs and ability to chase them down, combined with Ol’ Tater stomping around and being terrifying, dissenters willingly jumped into the rock’s mouth for their own safety, some of them surrendering once they realized everything they were up against.
Fifer directed her falcons to drop her into her room and invited them to remain there for safety’s sake until they were needed again. She communicated with Gorgrun’s team to make sure that, as they continued to sweep the upstairs, they wouldn’t send any fire or spells at the birds while searching methodically for those who might be hiding. Seeing that the upper floor was under control, Fifer ran out to the balcony and downstairs to assist Florence, Thisbe, Kaylee, and Ishibashi on the main floor. Another wave of dissenters was waking up and struggling to their feet to try to fight off the intruders, and Thisbe and Florence had their hands full. Pelting the ones in her way before they could reach for their components, Fifer went to the window nearest Simber and called out to him. “Can you do without Sky and Rohan? We could use more help in here!”
Panther and Ol’ Tater’s herding technique was working well, and the outdoor team was fierce enough to make Sky’s and Rohan’s contributions minimal at best. Simber immediately flew the passengers to the mansion and dropped them off.
Fifer ran to confer with him. “What’ll you do when the rock is full?” she asked. “Make a corral with the statues and dragons?”
“That’s the plan,” said Simber. He didn’t stick around to elaborate and flew back to be a part of the circle that included the rock, Panther, and Ol’ Tater. As Florence tossed people through the windows, Panther herded them, and the others moved fluidly based on Ol’ Tater’s whims to keep the dissenters surrounded but safe from the stomping mastodon.
“Follow me,” Fifer told Sky and Rohan, helping them in through the window. “There are still plenty of people hiding in the cubbyholes and crevices, and we haven’t found Frieda yet. Gorgrun and the Grimere fighters are covering the second floor, driving everybody downstairs. We’ll join Thisbe and continue on the first.” She started down the hallway, then ducked and hit the floor, crying, “Watch out!” Components came flying their way. Sky got hit by a backward bobbly head. Rohan released the spell, and the three scrambled to find cover before venturing forward again.
Florence saw them coming. “Good,” she said. “I’m going outside to help make the corral. You three join Thisbe and keep sending frozen bodies out to us.” She hesitated, then spoke quietly to Fifer. “The momentum is changing in our favor. But stay strong and be on your guard.”
Fifer nodded, and they got to work. The ranks of dissenters had thinned inside the mansion. With the largest attackers having relocated outside—Quince, Simber, and Florence—some of Frieda’s followers who were still in hiding crept out to see what was going on and to look for a means of escape. But Thisbe, Sky, Rohan, Kaylee, Ishibashi, and Fifer were on the move, hunting them down and making every attempt to attack before being fired upon. They forced them with swords to the windows or froze them and dragged them there, confiscating their components and tossing bodies one at a time onto the lawn for Simber and Florence to deal with. But there was still one person they hadn’t run across yet.
Knowing Frieda wasn’t a great mage gave them some hope that she wouldn’t put up much of a fight once they found her. Unlike past enemies, such as Gondoleery Rattrapp and the High Priest Justine herself, Frieda Stubbs was an amateur villain. Thus, the group wasn’t too worried about what would happen when she finally appeared.
That was probably a mistake.
Brought to a Boil
When Frieda Stubbs heard the attackers coming, she painted herself invisible and snuck out the back door of the kitchen, crossed the lawn, and climbed into a leafy tree on the border between Artimé and Quill, where she could watch everything that was happening. She was sure Garrit would bark out some orders on her behalf, and her people had been trained by the best—Florence. So she knew they’d fight for her and for their own peace and safety from the Revinir while Frieda planned her big move. Frieda hadn�
�t expected the dragons, but they didn’t seem to belong to the Revinir, so that put her mind somewhat at ease. And it was a bonus to have Thisbe show up. Perhaps she’d be able to do away with all the Stowes at once—it would certainly make her life easier. She worried for a while that Fifer Stowe wasn’t among the outcasts who had attacked. But a short time later she saw the spitting image of Nadia Stowe coming from the jungle with her awful birds and that stomping mastodon statue.
With that creature about, Frieda decided to stay put for a while. Perhaps she’d let her enemies think she had run away. Of course they’d assume that, and they’d grow complacent and careless. Everyone underestimated her. But they were in for a shock, because Frieda was finally going to get revenge for what that awful pirate girl had done to her.
Life had been especially hard the past few years, seeing Thisbe and Fifer Stowe grow into young women. They looked more like their mother every time they came back from stirring up trouble in the land of the dragons. They had the same unusual black eyes and black wavy hair. Fifer, who wore her hair long, especially resembled Frieda’s old neighbor who had come so abruptly and so suspiciously to Quill from a pirate ship.
Nadia had been aloof from the beginning, Frieda remembered. But she’d picked up on the rules of Quill quickly enough and tried valiantly to follow them. But the girl should have been declared Unwanted from the moment she’d stepped into the Wanted neighborhood where Frieda’s family lived. Nadia didn’t belong there. Frieda had known it from the start when she’d witnessed Nadia speaking to birds in the farm area of Quill. The birds seemed to speak to her, too. And there was a whole flock of them that fluttered high overhead, trapped outside of Quill by the barbed-wire ceiling that covered the island. They moved when Nadia moved. It was unsettling. And then there were the sparks that flew from her eyes, which she tried to hide. But Frieda had seen them.
