Legends of the Sky

by Liz Flanagan

  They were mobbed by a group of children, from tiny toddlers to a boy as tall as Milla. She climbed down from Iggie’s back, stretching the stiffness from her body, and dragged the heavy goat carcasses away before they were trampled.

  Iggie lumbered over to one of the crumbling old basking places built into the market square walls, and curled on his side. As the children climbed all over him, he was almost purring, greeting each child with prrrts of delight.

  To catch her breath, Milla leaned against a cool stone wall on the shady side of the square, wiping her brow, trying to ignore the slick of sweat down her back. She was tired and hot, and her clothes stank of blood. She’d gotten lazy, too used to flying.

  Thom emerged from the kitchen tent, carrying empty fish crates.

  “Hey, Thom!” Milla was surprised how pleased she was to see him, her old friend. Someone uncomplicated.

  “Milla! Dragonrider now, eh?” His smile erased the tiredness from his face. “I see you sometimes, flying over the Dolphin. Hey, Iggie!” he called out to the blue dragon.

  Iggie snorted back in a friendly way over the heads of the children.

  Milla leaned up and hugged Thom awkwardly around the crates. “How are you managing?” Thom was taller and thinner than last time she’d seen him. He had a little boat symbol stitched on his cotton shirt, too.

  “It’s tough and no mistake.” He grimaced, gesturing at the empty crates. “All these new ships blocking the way—by the time we unload, the catch is nearly spoiled. Still, there’s almost a riot to reach us. But we always save some for the duchess and her tent. Who knows when it’ll be us in there, the way things are going.”

  “Be careful, won’t you?” She frowned, studying his open, handsome face, tanned to deep brown now from all the summer sailing. “Get word to me, if anything happens?”

  “It won’t happen. We are careful. Dad knows how to keep his head down and work hard. Don’t worry about us.” She knew him well enough to hear the fear below his brave words.

  “Thom?” She caught his sleeve, just as he was about to leave.

  “What is it? Are you all right?”

  “What if we just left? You and your dad with the boat—we could bring Rosa, and me and Iggie … ?”

  Thom’s eyes softened, looking down at her. “That tough for you, too?”

  She nodded, horrified to feel her eyes filling with tears. She couldn’t cry in front of Thom, in front of all these people who had it worse than her. She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry, don’t listen to me.”

  “It’ll pass. It can’t go on like this,” he said. “Arcosi is our home, right? I’m not ready to give up on it. Hang in there, Milla.”

  She sniffed and stood a little straighter, giving him a damp smile. “You’re right. Let me know if we can do anything, me and him.” She gestured at Iggie, who seemed to have three children attached to each leg now.

  “See you soon.” Thom waved and disappeared into the crowd, just as Serina emerged from under the canvas doorway, trailed by volunteers.

  “Hope they want goat stew again.” Milla made a tired joke, indicating the limp carcasses next to her.

  “Thank you, Milla. Thank you, Iggie. We’ll eat well tonight.” Serina was as graceful as ever in her pink silk dress, with a matching flower behind one ear, but her apron was stained with evidence of a long day’s work, and her warm brown eyes were hooded with tiredness.

  Grubby-aproned volunteers appeared. A stout gray-haired man hoisted a goat over one shoulder; two young women took another between them.

  “Tarya’s worried about you.” Milla stayed with the duchess, keeping her eyes on her dragon as the children swarmed all over him. “She thinks you’re working too hard. You and Vigo both. Did he come straight here, or is he hunting already? Me and Iggie can go out again now if you need us to.” She hoped Serina would say yes, just so she could fly again.

  Before Serina could reply, a voice interrupted.

  “Traitors! What are you feeding them for? They don’t belong here. It’s ’cos of them I can’t get back into the city, stuck down here with the dregs.” A passing Norlander woman hissed abuse at the volunteers. She had a pinched face with a sharp chin. She raised her voice. “And what do you do? You bring food for them?”

  Mraa! Iggie roared a loud warning across the marketplace.

  Milla was stunned at this open hostility. She darted to Iggie’s side. He hated tension.

  “It’s all right,” she soothed him, one hand on his chest so she could feel if he started kindling flame. She shooed the children away. “Go on, go back to your parents. The dragon needs some space, all right? Go!” she urged, and the children moved away, reluctantly.

  There were four young men slouching against the wall, but they got up now and surrounded the Norlander woman. “Who is foreigner?” one asked, with a strong accent.

  “Our family is ancient Arcosi. Before you. We’ve come home,” the other said.

  “Why don’t you go back where you came from?” The third young man looked down at the woman. “If Norlands are so special, you go there!”

  Milla watched with gathering dread, smoothing Iggie’s neck and murmuring wordless sounds to keep him calm.

  Mraaa, he told her again, stamping and pacing on the spot.

  “I know, I know …”

  “Arcosi is my home, not yours,” the Norlander woman spat, undeterred. “And you are the ones who should leave …” A few other Norlanders heard the argument and they came to stand with this woman, murmuring their support.

  Now there were two groups, facing off against each other: Norlander women who lived in the dock area, clutching their baskets of shopping, versus the young men who’d been lining up for some food.

  “Go home! Leave our island. We were fine before you got here,” the Norlander woman said. “Go on, go!” She pointed toward the ships.

  “Peace, friend. All are welcome in this tent. I’ve always made that clear.” Serina broke across the dividing line. She stepped toward the Norlander women with her hands open. “The offer is for anyone. You bring what you can, or you stay to help, and everyone receives a meal.”

  The woman’s leathery face was still angry. She turned away, scorning the duchess’s open hands. “Not surprising you take their side …”

  “She isn’t taking sides!” Milla shouted over. “She’s trying to help.”

  “Course she’s taking sides. She chose these filthy dock rats, fresh off the last boat. She chose you!” the Norlander woman said, sounding bolder now that she was surrounded by her friends. “Keep your food. I’d rather starve than share with them!” Their high-pitched laughter filled the air.

  “Dock rats!” Some of the other women joined in. “Throw them in the sea.”

  “Norlander bullies, Arcosi is ours!” the young men shouted back.

  The two groups shouted insults at each other, getting louder and louder.

  Iggie rumbled, a low growl, and Milla felt the heat starting to build in his chest. “Shhhh,” she told him. “Hold! We don’t need flame.”

  But as she watched the street descend into chaos, she began to doubt her words. The two groups met and pushed against each other, shoving, first this way, then that. Soon it was a moving, struggling wall of bodies. Someone would be crushed.

  She couldn’t even see the duchess anymore. “Serina! Where are you?”

  There was no answer. Serina was lost in that hate-filled mob.

  “Fire!” Milla gave the command, flinging her arm out. The air grew hot as her dragon kindled. Iggie tipped his head back and roared out a long orange flame, sending it high over the heads of the crowd.

  It worked. People screamed and threw themselves out of range. They stopped fighting, pulling back into their original groups.

  Milla saw their shocked faces as they scattered, individuals once more.

  “Serina? Duchess, where are you?” Milla called out.

  It was as if a spell had been broken. The Norlan
der woman who’d started it all looked dazed, glancing around her as if she had no idea how she got there.

  “What have you done?” Milla yelled at the woman. “Where is the duchess?”

  “It’s all right, I’m here,” Serina called out, scrambling her way through, past the ones who’d been fighting. Her face was ashen and her pink robe was askew.

  “Are you all right?” Milla rushed forward. “Quick, she’s going to faint …”

  Serina fell backward, hard, before she could catch her, and Milla heard the crunch as she landed on her left wrist.

  “Your Grace? Serina?”

  It was too long before there was a response. Milla’s head pounded painfully in the silence as she reached for her.

  Serina gasped and tried to sit up. Her face was drained of blood. “It’s only my wrist.” She cradled it awkwardly. “I think it might be broken. I can set it. I need bandages and plaster, but not here. Our stores are low. I have more at the palace.”

  Iggie lifted his head up and let out a high-pitched aaark of distress.

  “Steady, Ig, steady,” Milla called.

  He opened his wings and flapped them, a huge canopy above them, making people cringe and back away farther. Then he knelt and gestured at the duchess. He stretched his neck toward her, making himself vulnerable, then tilted his head and asked gently, Prrt?

  Milla understood: Iggie wanted Serina to sit on his back. They’d never flown with anyone else before, but this was Iggie’s choice, and the duchess wouldn’t weigh much.

  “Your Grace, will you come with me on Iggie’s back? We can fly you to the palace. It’s the quickest way.”

  The duchess hesitated for a long moment, studying Iggie, then made up her mind. “Thank you, Iggie. Show me how.”

  Milla climbed up first and gestured to the duchess, showing her how to mount in front of her. Then she wrapped her arms around Serina’s waist. “Hold on with your legs!” she told her.

  Iggie flapped hard—harder than usual—and Milla held her breath, waiting to see if this would work. And then the marketplace fell away beneath them, and they were in the air.

  “Ohhh! This is wonderful,” Serina called. “But don’t let go!”

  “I won’t,” Milla promised.

  Above them, the skies were darkening, and the sun was blotted out by gray-blue clouds rolling in from the west. It felt hotter than ever. The air crackled with tension, and it grew darker and darker as they approached the palace.

  The duchess’s medicine store at the palace was a simple whitewashed room with high windows, lined with cupboards all labeled in the duchess’s neat script.

  “Will you tie this bandage for me?” Serina was asking Milla. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”

  Milla nodded, praying that she didn’t cause her any more pain. She was still shaken from witnessing the hatred of the Norlander women. Her fingers felt huge and clumsy as she tied off the two ends of the white cotton around the duchess’s wrist. Following Serina’s careful instruction, she smeared sticky gray plaster over the top.

  “Vigo usually does this for me,” Serina said absentmindedly, suppressing a wince of pain.

  Milla wondered exactly how many bones she’d broken.

  They both froze as loud footsteps echoed in the corridor.

  “My dear, they tell me you’re hurt! How bad is it?” Duke Olvar rushed to greet his wife, frowning with concern.

  Milla wanted to flee to the dragonhall, to find Iggie. But she hung back, waiting for Serina’s instructions, feeling the plaster drying on her fingers.

  “You were pushed? By one of these rabble off the boats?”

  Milla realized he was gleeful. Here was the excuse he’d been waiting for.

  “No. It wasn’t like that. There was a scuffle. Norlanders were involved, too,” the duchess explained.

  “That’s the last straw!” The duke’s voice rose over Serina’s, not listening to her. “I’ve had enough. Didn’t I say it would come to this?” he said. “It’s gone on long enough. We are just one small island. We cannot feed everyone indefinitely.”

  Milla braced to hear the duke’s retribution. Non-Norlanders were already marked, like branded goats. What would he think of next?

  “Have pity, Olvar.” Serina held her injured wrist across her chest and said calmly, “There is space for everyone. These newcomers are ordinary men, women, and children. They’ve traveled far to see the dragons.”

  “And they’ve seen them, haven’t they? Dragons fly overhead every day, as those children insist on hunting …” Duke Olvar’s gaze flickered over Milla.

  “If you opened the city gates and let them in, we wouldn’t have to hunt so much!” Milla cried. “They’ll starve otherwise.”

  “What do they expect? The dragons don’t belong to them. So why don’t they leave?” The duke’s fury built and he started pacing by the doorway. “I tell you why: they want our land. They say it’s theirs!”

  It was theirs, Milla thought. She had spoken to the families in the tents. They were descendants of the original islanders.

  “Maybe it once was.” The duchess said it for her.

  Milla held her breath.

  “What?” Olvar stopped pacing. “You believe them?” His tone changed, grew suspicious. “I should have realized where your loyalties lay. You chose them the day you left here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Serina cried, her scorn now matching his. “I am the Duchess of Arcosi, and I would give my life for our people. I just don’t label them. Or divide them. How dare you doubt me now?”

  She looked magnificent, Milla thought, with her dark eyes flashing.

  “We have to start talking to them,” the duchess reasoned in a quieter voice. “Give them proper shelter, not makeshift tents. There are empty dwellings: those ruins in the shadow strip can be used now. With a few adjustments, we can all live together.”

  “Live together?” The duke laughed, and it was a hard, cold sound. “And when they keep coming? Are you suggesting we invite them in here?” He gestured around the room, coming closer and closer to Serina. “Will you share your bedroom with those unwashed beggars? Will you give your medicine room over to their hordes? Who’ll do your good works then?”

  The duchess looked at him, aghast.

  Milla glanced at the door, but no one came to help.

  “No, see? No one else wants to share, either. Nor should they. This. Is. Our. Home.” The duke slapped his hand on the wooden worktop to emphasize each word. “My father was brave enough to risk a long voyage, and the stars led him here. Arcosi was empty. If it was theirs, they abandoned it! They can’t change their minds now!” The duke was roaring in Serina’s face, his cheeks flushed hot and red. “The island is ours. I was born here. We deserve our homeland.”

  “Maybe those people deserve it, too.” The duchess’s bottom lip jutted out stubbornly.

  Milla had backed away from the duke’s fury, but Serina was undaunted.

  “They’ve traveled a long way, too,” Serina said. “They survived a difficult voyage to return here. A little boy was born in the harbor this morning. Isn’t he Arcosi now?” She seemed to forget her pain in her passion to persuade the duke.

  It didn’t work.

  “No!” Duke Olvar hissed.

  “How is that baby different from you? When you were born here, your people had nothing. You’d just arrived. You were just like him.”

  He took one step back, shocked by her words.

  “Arcosi was taken from them, they say,” she went on. “They didn’t leave by choice. They fled in fear for their lives.”

  “How do you know they are telling the truth?” the duke roared at her.

  “How do I know your father was telling the truth?” Serina finally lost her cool and shouted back. “How do I know they didn’t murder the citizens of Arcosi as they slept and take this island by force?”

  The duke stepped in and struck his wife across the face.

  Milla screa
med, “No!” and threw herself forward, grabbing the duke’s upraised hand and clinging to it so he couldn’t strike again.

  “Milla, no. Stay back,” Serina gasped, pressing her uninjured palm to her cheek.

  Olvar growled and shook Milla off. “Get out! This is none of your business.”

  She fell backward, hard, and scrambled to her feet, trying to put herself in between Serina and Olvar.

  But the duchess had had enough. “Come, Milla, let him go. We’re leaving. This is no place for us now.” Without a backward glance, Serina strode from her room.

  Milla scurried after her.

  The duchess walked fast, muttering under her breath, “Should’ve left years ago. As soon as I saw his true colors. I only stayed for Vigo. To keep him safe. I managed that, at least.”

  They ran down the stone steps and out into the courtyard. Above them, the sky was low and leaden, purple and heavy with the coming storm. The air was warm and full of flies.

  Serina paused as she crossed the dragon mosaic, adjusting the wrapping on her hand.

  “Please, wait, Your Grace.” Milla caught up with her. “Let Iggie take you—you’re injured and the streets are full.”

  Serina shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take the shadow gate and bribe my way down to the docks. I’m not coming back.” She reached out and touched Milla’s cheek in farewell. “Find Vigo for me? Tell him what happened. My son will find me in the tents.” Then she turned and continued walking swiftly toward the shadow gate, her long silk skirts swishing with each stride.

  She was right. Vigo was the only one who could intervene now. Milla ran to the dragonhall. Isak barely glanced her way. Tarya must be out hunting.

  Iggie flew down immediately, whining and nudging at Milla’s side, sensing her distress.

  “Quickly, Iggie.” She urged him outdoors. “We must find Vigo and Petra. They’ll be heading home before the storm.” She was on Iggie’s back and in the air in moments, barely registering what they did. She saw the soldiers pouring out of the barracks gates and guessed they were on storm defense duties.