Talons of Power

by Tui T. Sutherland

  “How can you say that?” Sunny asked. “You don’t know me.”

  “Of course I do,” said Darkstalker. “I can read your mind and see your futures, remember? I woke up several months ago to find myself under a mountain and twenty centuries older than I was when my friends betrayed me. Since then I’ve had nothing to do except read all your minds and dream of freedom.”

  “All our minds?” Clay asked. “That’s kind of … nosy, isn’t it?”

  “Literally nothing else to do,” Darkstalker said apologetically. “But don’t worry, Clay, your thoughts are all very sweet. Especially when it comes to certain dragons.” He winked, and Clay managed to look embarrassed, alarmed, and confused all at the same time.

  “But wait, what makes you think we’re related?” Sunny asked.

  “Your father’s a NightWing animus,” Darkstalker pointed out. “So he must be descended from me or Whiteout, and I know I didn’t have any dragonets … although I was supposed to.” He caught a fragment of cloud between his talons and watched it fade into empty air.

  “So … your sister, Whiteout, was my great-great-great-something-greats-grandmother?” Sunny asked.

  “She must have been,” Darkstalker said, shaking himself. “But there’s so much I don’t know. All my friends and family are gone, Sunny. I miss them, and I have no idea what happened to them. So I’ve asked Starflight to find some scrolls for me — just to fill in the gaps and answer my questions. I hope that’s all right.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad.

  Turtle glanced over his shoulder. Starflight was hurrying around the library, pulling out scrolls and putting them back, checking their titles with his claws. He kept slipping on the loose scrolls and catching himself. Every once in a while he paused and gave a scroll to Fatespeaker, who wrote the title down on a slate.

  Maybe this really is all Darkstalker wants, Turtle thought. A few answers about what happened all those hundreds of years ago. Maybe he’s as friendly and harmless as he seems.

  And yet … and yet … the way he’d looked at Turtle and Winter. That flash of darkness deep inside him, peering out.

  Not to mention the ominous prophecy, of course.

  Turtle touched the pouch that rested against his heart. Don’t be noticed. He would stay hidden until he was absolutely, positively sure it was safe.

  “Darkstalker!” a voice called from above. A peal of thunder boomed off the clouds like an echo.

  Turtle looked outside again, and up, just like everyone else, including Darkstalker.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating the outline of a dragon against a sky that was suddenly and rapidly getting darker. She spread her front talons, and wind rushed up behind her with a howling force that made even the giant NightWing stagger back a few paces. Her wings twitched, and the thunder rolled again, louder and closer and more menacing than before.

  Darkstalker gathered his wings and planted his feet, watching the dragon overhead. A slow smile spread across his face.

  “Anemone,” he said. “Just the dragon I was looking for.”

  “Oh no,” Turtle breathed.

  “Me?” Anemone echoed, sounding as young as she was and heartbreakingly delighted. She flicked her claws to make the lightning flash again, now illuminating her face. “You were looking for me?”

  And you made it more than easy for him to find you, Turtle thought. Not to mention announcing your power to everyone else who didn’t know the SeaWings have an animus. Now every tribe in Pyrrhia would know about Anemone’s magic. Apart from all the dragons outside, he could see faces watching from nearly every window in the school — students roused from their beds either by the commotion outside or by the panicked IceWings.

  Oh, Anemone. Why would anyone ever draw so much attention to themselves?

  Tsunami snapped her tail, hissing. “What is she doing?” she cried.

  Before Turtle could answer — not that he had any sort of answer, unless maybe losing her mind counted — Tsunami was out the window and flying up toward Anemone.

  “One moment, big sister,” Anemone said, holding out her talons. The wind spiraled up and around, spinning Tsunami away from her. Below them, Clay and Sunny both started forward with a gasp, but Tsunami caught herself on the second spin and hovered where she was.

  “Why were you looking for me?” Anemone asked Darkstalker.

  “Because I sensed a kindred spirit,” he said, gesturing at the storm rising around her. “I’ve been listening to your mind since you arrived at Jade Mountain and I saw instantly how special you are. A dragon as smart and practical as I am. And, of course, a fellow animus.”

  Did he know about me before I hid myself? Turtle wondered. Only Winter, Qibli, Peril, and Moon knew about his animus power … but neither Peril nor Moon wore skyfire to protect their thoughts. Darkstalker could have lifted that information from either of their minds. Or he could have seen it in a vision of the future, if there was a crazy future where Turtle used magic in front of him.

  “That’s me,” Anemone said, lifting her front claws into the air. Lightning sizzled down from the clouds and gathered in her webbed talons like deadly trapped moons. The light gave her face an eerie glow, shining over her scales like an Aquatic birthmark, making sure everyone could see how different she was. “Finally. Someone who understands me.”

  “Anemone,” Tsunami said, her voice cracking.

  “Oh, I know you love me,” Anemone said to her. “Plenty of dragons love me. But understanding me … see, that takes another animus.”

  I’m not sure it does, Turtle thought. He’d never felt further from understanding her than he did right this moment.

  I did this all wrong. Like I always do. I should have told her the truth about me, or I should have lied about Darkstalker. I should have come up with something that could have stopped this from happening.

  “I’m very impressed, Anemone,” Darkstalker said, spreading his wings at the churning, stone-colored sky. “You know, I’ve never tried controlling the weather. What a clever idea. What did you enchant?” Dark clouds now blotted out the sunrise, bloated with rain that was forbidden to fall. Small flickers of lightning curled in the depths of the clouds like the breath of newly hatched SkyWings. The air smelled like the sea was hiding overhead, ready to drown everyone.

  “These,” Anemone said, displaying two beaten copper armbands on her wrists, the metal rippling like waves of fire. “I wanted you to see what I could do,” she said proudly.

  “But Anemone,” Tsunami choked out. “Your soul —”

  “I feel fine, Tsunami,” Anemone said, flicking her tail. “I mean, we are supposed to use our powers sometimes, right?” she asked Darkstalker. “Like when it’s really important? And couldn’t these be totally useful?” She reached up again and opened a small hole in the clouds for the sun to pour through.

  “Absolutely,” Darkstalker agreed. “They’re brilliant. Don’t worry, Tsunami; Anemone is many spells away from massacring anyone. And now I’m here to help her with that soul problem. Come on down, Princess, and let’s talk.”

  Anemone soared down to him with no hesitation. Turtle watched her go with the same sick, sinking feeling that had hit him the day he heard his father had been captured by Queen Scarlet’s troops.

  There’s nothing I can do.

  He could feel Peril watching him, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.

  Don’t wait for me to fix this. I can’t. I don’t know where to start and I don’t have any good ideas and whatever I tried, I’d do it wrong anyway.

  As Anemone and Darkstalker stepped into the main entrance cave, Anemone looked back up at her sister and the other dragons still outside.

  She smiled, and the rain began to fall.

  Heavy droplets pelted Turtle’s wings as he flew up to where his friends were gathered in the sky.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he was close enough to speak. “I did try to warn the school, but I guess it didn’t make any difference.”

  “Warn th
e school about what?” Winter asked.

  “The … giant two-thousand-year-old superdragon that just climbed out of a mountain?” Turtle answered.

  “Oh, he’s not here to hurt anyone,” said Winter. “I know, I was worried at first, too, but Darkstalker’s not a monster. He just wants to make friends and start over.”

  “See, I feel like that’s true,” said Qibli, “but then Winter, of all dragons, says something like that, and I get nervous.”

  “Call off the exploding-guts plan, Turtle!” Peril called cheerfully, swooping around them with her wings carving paths of steam through the pelting rain. “He’s not evil after all!”

  “Wait, really?” Turtle tried to blink away the rain that kept pooling on his snout. “Are we sure? What happened to change your mind so fast?”

  “Well, he’s been super nice to me,” said Peril. “Which kind of never happens, so he’s obviously more awesome than the average dragon. And he pointed out that animus powers and firescales are the same, because other dragons are always scared of us, but they shouldn’t be. Totally true, right? I mean, I wouldn’t want MY insides exploded by magic just because someone thinks I’M scary.”

  “You are scary,” Qibli said to her. “But I’m also in favor of you staying in one piece.”

  “Why, thank you,” she said, pleased. “So it makes sense, right, Turtle? If we deserve a chance to prove ourselves good, then why doesn’t Darkstalker?”

  “That’s right,” said Qibli. “That’s a good point.”

  “But didn’t he already have that chance?” Turtle asked. “And didn’t it end with killing his own father?”

  “Oh, that’s a good point, too.” Qibli scrunched his eyes shut as though his head hurt. “My brain feels like it’s trying to swim through honey.”

  “That father business is ancient history,” said Winter. “We don’t know exactly what happened. I’m sure he has a good explanation.”

  “Me too,” said Peril.

  “So we’re all … we’re not worried anymore?” said Turtle. “Welcome back, Darkstalker, carry on, do all the magic you’d like?”

  “You just need to spend a little time with him and you’ll see,” Winter said. “Are we done with this boring conversation? I’d like to go get dry, if you please.” He shook off his wings and dove toward the caves without waiting for an answer.

  “Never tell him I said this,” said Peril, “but I agree with the chilly prince. Off with your hiding spell, Turtle, and onward with your face!”

  She gestured toward Turtle’s pouch and he shied away from her, covering it with his talons.

  “Or you can keep skulking around,” she said with a shrug. “Whatever you want. I’m going to go say hi to Clay! I mean, to uh, him and his friends. So I can tell him what I did to Scarlet! I mean, tell all of them. What Ruby did, technically. But with my help! He’s going to be so excited. Don’t you think? So excited? I mean, not that it’s any big deal. Well, I guess it’s kind of a big deal that I stopped his, like, super worst enemy from coming after him. He’ll be happy about that. Right? Not that it matters. Why am I nervous? I’m not! STOP BEING NERVOUS, PERIL. Ha ha! That’ll work.”

  “Three moons, just go talk to him, you unexpected flutterhead,” Qibli said with a laugh.

  “I will! I’m going!” Peril said. “Don’t wish me luck because I don’t even need it because why would I because who cares!” She shook herself from horns to tail, wiped raindrops off her snout, and spiraled down to the school.

  “Wow,” said Qibli. “Am I like that around Moon?”

  “Are you?” Turtle asked, only half-listening. Peril did seem like the kind of dragon who could change her mind about someone at a moment’s notice. So maybe this was normal, and maybe Darkstalker was as great as they all thought and Turtle was wrong to be so anxious. But something didn’t feel right.

  “Just kidding,” Qibli said quickly. “Forget I said that. Um, Turtle … I think, actually, don’t unhide yourself yet.”

  “Really?” Turtle twisted toward him in the air. Raindrops kept splashing in his eyes and making it hard to see. It felt as if the clouds were gathering lower and lower, as though they might all pile on top of his wings at any moment.

  “My instincts tell me I can trust Darkstalker,” Qibli said, tilting his claws to watch the raindrops slide in different directions. “But my head says to be more careful. So maybe it’s smart to have one dragon who can watch him without being seen for a little while. Can you do that? Watch him and then tell me what you see?”

  “I guess.” Turtle tugged the webs between his talons nervously. “But like what? What if I miss something? What am I looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” Qibli admitted. “But whatever you see, come talk to me about it, all right? We’ll figure it out together.”

  “All right,” Turtle said uncomfortably.

  He stayed in the air for a moment as Qibli flew away. At least I’m not the only one who’s worried.

  But he couldn’t shake the dread that crept along his wings. It was a lot of pressure, being the one who had to keep an eye on Darkstalker. Being the only one who could, really. He didn’t like the feeling that Qibli was relying on him.

  I don’t want to be the spy. In all the stories, spies are competent and quick-thinking and clever, and I’m none of those things. Or else they’re incompetent, and then they get caught, and their part of the story ends in a dungeon or a quick death.

  Not exactly the character arc I was hoping for.

  I’m not the right dragon for this.

  He followed his friends slowly, listening to the thunder roll overhead, and wondering where the lightning would strike.

  Inside the main entrance cave, Turtle crept around the small groups of gathered dragons until he was huddled behind the bronze gong. Nobody noticed him. He’d perfected the art of moving slowly, of being boring and forgettable and ordinary.

  And it certainly helped that everyone had a much bigger, flashier dragon on their minds at the moment.

  “It’s such a vague threat,” Darkstalker was saying to Anemone as Turtle curled into his hiding spot. “I mean, what is a soul? How do you really know if someone’s losing theirs or it’s going bad or whatever the big danger is supposed to be?”

  “Right!” Anemone said, as though she were pouncing on a scuttling crab. “I mean, there haven’t been that many animus dragons in history, have there? What if Albatross was already bad and it had nothing to do with his magic at all?”

  Turtle shivered. He’d had these thoughts himself, many times, but it was unsettling to hear them spoken aloud. He wanted to believe that his soul would be fine no matter what he did. He would still be the one making all the choices, good or bad, wouldn’t he? And he was a good dragon — a perfectly nice, harmless dragon with no reason to hurt anyone.

  A plume of blood flickered through his memory. Was it only two days ago? Or three? He remembered the clammy feeling of mud between his talons as they confronted that dragon, Peril’s father — Soar or Chameleon or Shapeshifter, the one with many names. He’d been holding Darkstalker’s scroll, and Turtle had used animus magic to take it from him.

  The truth was, he hadn’t just taken the scroll; he’d attacked Chameleon with it, bashing him in the face and probably breaking his nose. It was the only violent spell he’d ever cast.

  Once more, he noticed his talons were clenched against his will, and he had to force them straight. Deep breaths. I am in control of my own self. I am not a bad dragon.

  He’d never done anything like that before in his life. He certainly wouldn’t be able to do it with his own claws. But with magic it was different. It didn’t feel like he was really hurting someone else. Except for now, in his memories, where the screaming dragon kept appearing over and over again.

  But he hurt Kinkajou, Turtle reminded himself. He put her in a coma. He also tricked Peril and put a spell on her to make her work for Scarlet again.

  He deserved it.

  He brushe
d his front talons together as though he were wiping off wet sand. Was this what it felt like to lose part of his soul? Was this the first step toward darkness? He still felt like himself … but maybe a slightly more powerful version of himself. Was that bad?

  “I know what you did,” Darkstalker rumbled softly, and for a moment Turtle’s heart stopped. “I know what you worry about.”

  “You do?” Anemone whispered.

  Turtle peeked out and saw that the cave was almost empty now. Only Darkstalker, Anemone, Tsunami, and Moon remained.

  “She was protecting us,” Tsunami said quickly. “She was saving us.”

  Turtle felt a flash of panic. What did Anemone do? Something terrible? When? How did he miss it?

  “I agree,” said Darkstalker. “You shouldn’t feel guilty, Princess.”

  “I don’t,” Anemone said, lifting her chin. “He deserved it.”

  Turtle heard the echo of his own thought and winced. Who was she talking about?

  “But did it change you?” Tsunami asked. “Do you feel …”

  “Soulless?” Anemone laughed a little too brightly. “No way. I think I have a pretty normal soul for a dragon.”

  “But you won’t ever have to worry again if we protect that soul, like I protected mine.” Darkstalker flicked his tail. “With a different spell this time, though. We’re going to need something to enchant. None of my talismans survived the two thousand years underground with me.”

  “I can find us something!” Anemone said, jumping to her feet. “I have some great treasure! Mother always gives me the best jewels.”

  “It doesn’t have to be fancy,” Darkstalker said. “It just has to be sturdy, so our souls will be safe forever.” He smiled at Moon. “I know that would make certain dragons here a lot happier.”

  “I don’t know,” said Moon, studying him with a wary expression. “Your soul was ‘protected’ before and you still killed your father.”

  “Oh, by all the moons,” Darkstalker said crossly. He reared up, filling the cavern with his giant wings. “Listen, Arctic was about to betray the whole tribe. He was trying to sell my sister to the IceWings in exchange for his own safety. He would have made her marry an IceWing and live in their kingdom forever, and he was mind-controlling her. If I hadn’t stopped him, Sunny wouldn’t even exist! And maybe the NightWings wouldn’t either, because Arctic was going to help the IceWings wipe us out. He was a traitor who had to die.” Darkstalker pointed at Moon. “I was protecting you and all the tribe’s future descendants. I’m shocked that everyone has completely forgotten about that.”