Legends of the Sky

by Liz Flanagan

  “He didn’t jump, Milla,” Tarya said. “He flew to you!”

  “Can he do it again?” Vigo rushed to the dragonperch, glad to be distracted. “Petra, do you want to try?”

  The other three dragons were eager and jittery, climbing up and down the perch. But when Vigo reached up to lift Petra higher, she opened her mouth and a flurry of sparks emerged, scalding Vigo and making him jump back in shock.

  “Dragonsblood!” he swore, running to plunge his hand in the dragon’s water trough. “Flame and flight, all at once? Really? I think you’re ahead of yourselves. This isn’t meant to happen till next month, I thought?”

  Petra exhaled a long orange flame in reply.

  All the others clapped, while Milla watched uneasily. She should be celebrating Iggie’s new skill. Instead, she flopped down on the floor, Iggie in her arms.

  He could tell she was unhappy. Subdued now, he reached up and rested his blue head on her collarbone. When he craaaked quietly to her, she could feel the heat building in his chest. He was built for making fire, for burning things.

  “Milla?” Tarya said. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just … seeing them flame today.” She struggled to put her disquiet into words. “After what we heard about Sartola burning. It makes it all more real: what happened back then.”

  “We’re not going to take them to war!” Isak said.

  “No, but look at them.” She studied Iggie, the most beautiful thing in her world, with a sense of trepidation. “They can fly. Make flame. One day, they’ll be huge. They’re going to be capable of … damage.”

  “So we train them,” Vigo said firmly. “We train them when to stop.”

  “We have to,” Tarya agreed, stroking Heral’s ruby scales.

  “For their sakes,” Milla said, “and everyone else’s.”

  Kara’s story circled Milla’s mind like a distracting fly just out of reach, but she told herself the dragons were safest at the palace while they were still growing. Training Iggie ate up all her time now.

  Tarya and Vigo were used to gentling horses, so they showed Milla and Isak how to teach the hatchlings: slowly, with great patience and many rewards.

  “Fire!” was the signal to flame, with an arm pointing forward.

  “Fly!” told the dragon to launch into flight, with an arm pointing straight up, while “Land!” had the opposite direction.

  “Hold!” was the signal to stop flaming, along with a clenched fist.

  It took weeks.

  Kara said Iggie belonged in the city, but Milla didn’t dare take him down there again. It was too dangerous, unless she wanted to set the whole island alight. Iggie wasn’t so good at stopping his fire. He was too overexcited by his new skills, flying in circles and sending little jets of flame up into the air at the same time.

  She felt bad for not visiting Josi and Kara, but at least they knew what kept her away. She didn’t dare mention Iggie in her notes to Thom and Rosa. She’d written to say she had accompanied Tarya to her new home. Now her friends must think she’d abandoned them for a fancy new job in the palace. As soon as Iggie was a little older, she’d be able to leave him and visit them. But right now, he had to come first.

  “Yes, you are a clever dragon. But seriously, Ig. Hold!” She ducked to avoid his flame. “You nearly singed me!” She sighed. “I wonder how many times they had to rebuild this dragonhall after it was burned down by enthusiastic baby dragons?”

  “Those ceiling tiles will never burn: they knew what they were doing when they built this thing,” Isak called.

  “Did you get burned, Milla?” Vigo asked, offering her a jug. “Water?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you.” Milla was touched by his concern. They paused by the water trough to let Iggie and Petra drink.

  “I’ve been thinking about Kara’s words.” Vigo raised the subject quietly, while Isak and Tarya were out of earshot on the other side of the hall.

  Milla looked up at him in surprise. Why was he whispering? Then she guessed: telling Isak something was like telling the duke, and Vigo didn’t want his father hearing this.

  “I’m sure it’s true,” he was saying. “Sartolans have their own stories, you know. About the old days, the golden age of Arcosi, and their dragonriders. When the dragons belonged to the city.”

  “The way Kara spoke, it’s more than belonging. It’s what the dragons need.”

  “We could do it. Take the dragons to the city. Make another golden age. Only this time, Sartola won’t be the enemy.” Vigo was talking quickly now, keeping his eyes on Isak on the other side of the hall. “Do you remember that prophecy you found? Didn’t it say something about tearing down walls to make peace? We can do it. We have to.”

  “What about your father?” Milla asked. “He’ll never let us. He wants to keep the dragons secret.”

  “We only have to wait. You can see how fast the dragons are growing. One of these days, he won’t have any choice. He’s been controlling me all my life.” His green dragon finished drinking and came over to press herself against Vigo’s long legs. “You’ll soon put a stop to that, won’t you, Petra?” Petra lifted her long, lithe neck, showing the creamy-pale scales of her throat. She growled in agreement, sending tiny sparks flying.

  “Are you with me, Milla? Are you ready to try Kara’s way, when the time comes?” Vigo asked urgently.

  “It’s not just about proving your father wrong?”

  “No, it’s about doing the right thing—for the city and the dragons!”

  Heral and Belara were flying toward them, with Tarya and Isak close behind.

  “Yes, then I agree,” Milla said, seeing how determined he was. “But we have to talk to Kara, plan it right.”

  Vigo nodded.

  “Maybe this is the kind of stuff their moms should teach them? How to preen, how to hunt, how to flame, fly, and stop! I mean, hold, Belara!” Isak panted, passing them in pursuit of his little gold dragon, holding his eyeglasses in place with one finger. Serina had made Isak more of his medicine, but he didn’t seem to need it as much these days.

  In fact, Milla realized, none of them had been ill since the dragons hatched.

  “I don’t know. They seem to be doing pretty well on their own!” Tarya replied to her brother, coming to a breathless halt as Heral turned a somersault up near the rafters. “Don’t forget how much they’ve learned already.”

  “Come on, let’s race them,” Vigo suggested, with a wicked glint in his eye.

  “Hey, you’ve been practicing! Not fair,” Tarya protested.

  “Scared to lose? Petra’s faster than Heral any day!” Vigo challenged her.

  “Never. Just watch us …” Tarya took the bait. “Heral? Fly!” She pointed up and raced out of the dragonhall with Heral, hotly pursued by Vigo and a green streak that was Petra.

  “Just don’t let them be seen from the city!” Isak called. “They’re supposed to be hidden, remember? For their own protection.”

  Watching them race away, Milla saw the flaw in that line for the first time. By the time the dragons were big enough to fly over the city, they wouldn’t need anyone’s protection.

  “Go on, Heral. You’re winning!” But Tarya was so busy looking up that she tripped and fell facedown onto the muddied path. Heral hovered and flew back to check she was all right.

  Vigo could’ve raced ahead and claimed victory, but he stopped instead and helped Tarya, dripping, to her feet.

  She laughed, spitting mud.

  “He should know better than that,” Milla said, nudging Isak. “Look—Vigo’s about to learn that chivalry won’t get him anywhere with Tarya. She’s ruthless, and I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

  She lay back in the sawdust to watch Iggie gliding in circles around the upper rafters of the dragonhall. His wide blue wings caught the light. She’d never seen anything so lovely as her dragon in flight. She wanted him to be free. She pictured Iggie flying over the sea. Hadn’t she dreamt about that?

&nbs
p; “Ha! Yeah, look,” Isak said. “She’s pulled him into the mud, and now she’s running off … Now he’s catching her! Oh!”

  “What?” Milla sat up.

  Isak was flushing slightly.

  She peered past him to see what was going on outside.

  Vigo had caught Tarya in his arms and was holding her very close. Their muddy faces were almost touching. They were both laughing now. Then Tarya reached up and kissed Vigo.

  “Why shouldn’t they?” Milla shrugged. “I’m pleased for her. So, do you want to race?”

  Isak frowned and pulled away from her, getting to his feet. “I think we’ve got more important things to worry about, Milla. The dragons are an honor and a serious responsibility. I haven’t got time for anything else. I’ll be in the library.”

  Milla watched him walk away, thinking that he sounded more like Duke Olvar and less like Isak with every passing day.

  * * *

  Just as autumn gave way to winter, Milla dared to visit Kara again. She picked an evening when Isak was busy in the library with Duke Olvar and made Tarya promise to guard Iggie with her life.

  She used the shadow gate for the first time, slipping through the deserted streets of the shadow strip. It was dark, but she used the Yellow House tower as a guide, lit up against the night sky like a beacon to show her the way. As she arrived, she heard Nestan chatting to the guards at the gate.

  “Hold. Who goes there?” Then Nestan caught sight of her and roared with delight. “Milla! Come in, come in. Open the gates, quickly.”

  She had barely stepped through them when he lifted her off her feet in a massive hug, swinging her easily in his strong arms. “Dear child. Is everything all right?”

  She wobbled when he put her down, slightly shocked by this enthusiastic welcome. Was he missing the twins so badly? He visited every week, but it wasn’t the same. His house must feel empty without them. She noticed the extra white in his beard, and the new lines around those intense blue eyes.

  “How are the twins today?” Nestan asked.

  “They’re doing well, sir,” she said carefully, aware of the guards listening.

  “Come along, Josi will want to see you.” He led her across the courtyard, past the orange tree where she’d hidden on the day of the murder. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, unable to mention the dragons: “And your … little friends?”

  “Fine, sir.” Did he think they were being spied on? Milla looked around the empty courtyard, at the shadowy doorways to the main house. Surely they were safe here?

  The kitchen door was closed when they arrived, and Milla waited as Nestan knocked out a particular rhythm with six beats.

  Josi unlocked the door and peered out. Her face lit up when she saw Milla.

  “Why do you keep this door locked now?” she asked, pushing through to greet Josi and Kara hidden behind her.

  “It’s the best way.” Nestan locked the door behind them with a soft warning. “There may be a listener in my household.”

  “Sorry it’s just me today, not Iggie,” Milla told the three of them.

  “Good to see you, child.” Kara gave her a quick embrace. She was wearing a new dark red cloak that made her brown eyes gleam in the light of the kitchen oil lamps.

  Surprised again by the warmth of this greeting, Milla hugged Kara in return.

  Kara pulled away and caught sight of Milla’s new chain. She said sharply, “Where did you get that necklace? What happened to yours?”

  “I used my old necklace to bribe my way into the palace on hatching night. So Serina gave me this one. Why?”

  “It’s Sartolan: the sign of the sea.”

  “So? I don’t mind. It’s pretty, I like it, and the duchess has been very kind to me.”

  Kara looked disapproving, but she moved on. “And Iggie?”

  “He’s so big! Wait till you see him. He can nearly control his flame.”

  “Well done. Keeping working on that. Are you feeding him plenty of eggs and fish now, as well as chicken?”

  “Eggs? I’ll ask for some. Is there anything else he needs?”

  Kara took her arm and led her to the kitchen table, listing all the things the dragons could eat now.

  Sitting there with Nestan, Josi, and Kara, Skalla purring around her ankles, a wave of longing and homesickness washed over Milla, so strong that she had to grip the edge of the table till it passed. It felt strange to see them all, so easy together, like a family.

  “Come on, then, tell us everything. Enough about what dragons eat! What have they been feeding you?” Josi prompted her, pouring them all a small measure of sweet Arcosi wine and slicing some bread and cheese.

  “Mmm,” Milla said, taking a huge bite. “This tastes like home. I promise you, Josi, their bread isn’t as fluffy as yours; their cheese is never as creamy; and the palace cooks have no idea how to use spice. Rest assured: you are still the best cook on this island. Have you got any of your sweet pickle for this cheese?”

  Josi dropped a kiss on the top of her head and went to fetch it.

  Then Milla had to face a barrage of questions about the twins and the dragons and life at the palace.

  Before Milla could answer, they all heard raised voices in the courtyard outside.

  “Nestan!” a man shouted.

  Kara stood at once, and Josi helped her into the storeroom that served as her chamber and hiding place.

  Nestan swung a small table across the storeroom door and put a bowl of oranges on it. Josi unbolted the kitchen door, with a quick backward glance to check there was no trace of Kara’s presence here.

  “You’re wanted at the gate, master,” one of the guards called through. “Some fisherfolk from the lower town.”

  “Thom!” Milla called out in astonishment. “What are you doing here?” He was standing at the gate with his father, Simeon, being interrogated by Richal Finn.

  “Nestan, I need your help, old friend,” Simeon called.

  Thom saw Milla and shouted through, “It’s Rosa. She’s been arrested.”

  What did she do?” Milla asked when Nestan had brought Thom and Simeon into his study. She recalled how angry Rosa had been all those months ago. Things must have become even worse for her friend in the time they’d been apart.

  Thom was looking around the room, taking in the wood-paneled walls, Nestan’s shelves full of maps and ledgers. He twisted his hat in his hands as he explained. “After that explosion, they raised the fees again, but only for the stalls on the Sartolan side. Rosa and her family, they can’t afford to work there now.”

  “It was already too high,” Milla said.

  “They can never earn that back in a day,” Simeon said. “It’s just not fair. They’ll have to leave Arcosi—and that’s exactly what the duke wants. Bleed them dry till they leave Arcosi for the Norlanders alone.” Simeon might be Norlander, but his wife, Livia, was of Sartolan descent and he felt the injustice keenly.

  “So what did Rosa do?” Nestan asked. He and Simeon knew each other from childhood, though they hadn’t worked together for years.

  “She organized the marketfolk. They blocked access to the Norlander stalls, just for a morning, to let them see what it’s like.”

  “Rosa didn’t want to hurt anyone,” Thom added quickly. “She just wanted to make a point.”

  “And the duke arrested them?” Milla couldn’t help feeling proud as well as fearful.

  “The soldiers took every single one,” Simeon said. “No one can pay the release fee.”

  Thom said angrily, “Bet the Norlander marketfolk will be pleased—they’ve got no competition now.”

  “You did well to come to me,” Nestan said to Simeon. “I’ll pay the fees. Let’s get them out.”

  “I’ll come with you, too,” Josi added.

  Milla stared at them, awash with relief and gratitude. They barely knew Rosa, but they were ready to risk themselves for her and a group of strangers.

  Josi wrapped a warm cloak around her shoulders, p
reparing to leave. She checked the folds of her waistband: Milla spotted a knife and a pair of skewers concealed there.

  Nestan was giving orders. “Finn, I’ll need my sword. And my plain oaken cane. Josi, bring that lantern.”

  Milla watched their hurried preparations. “Wait, I’m coming, too,” she said.

  “No. Too dangerous. What about everything you left at the palace?” Josi snapped a coded warning.

  Thom flashed Milla a quick puzzled glance, but this wasn’t the moment to tell him about the dragons.

  Milla paused: what would Iggie think if he woke up and she wasn’t there? Tarya would tend him, feed him, but it wasn’t the same. She sent a prayer out into the night that he would understand: she couldn’t abandon Rosa.

  “Rosa is my friend,” she said. “And I can get you there quicker than anyone. I know a shortcut to avoid patrols.”

  Nestan looked at her hard. “Very well. But be careful and do as I say.”

  “Sir,” she said, “can you climb? So we can go the back way?” she suggested. “So we don’t have to tell the guards.”

  “I might not be able to run, but I can certainly climb down my own garden wall.” Nestan nodded, with new respect for her in his glance. “And you’re right—the fewer who know, the better.”

  “Where are they keeping them?” Milla whispered as they reached the dockside, hiding in the shadow of the great seawall. The night air was cool, with that familiar salty mix of seaweed and rotting debris at the high-water line. She knew the area well, used to carrying messages down to Nestan’s warehouses. Farther to the west lay a shallow beach where the children of Arcosi learned to swim.

  “Over there.” Thom pointed across the dark, deserted wharves. “That warehouse? The duke turned it into a prison. It was built for storage. Now it stores criminals. Only it doesn’t take much to be classed as one of them.”

  “Simeon, Thom?” Nestan said. “Stay out here and watch for trouble. Whistle at us if we need to get out.”

  “I’m coming,” Milla insisted.

  “Then so am I,” Josi said.

  “Well, then, let me do the talking. Pull your hoods low and follow me,” Nestan said. He didn’t have to spell it out: Don’t let them see that you’re not Norlander.