Legends of the Sky

by Liz Flanagan

  Time passed in a painful blur. No guards came. Did they know who she was? Was this Olvar’s revenge? Anything could be happening on the island. It was torture not to know.

  Milla’s hand flew to her neck. The necklace and the leaping fish pendant were gone. Her gift from Serina. The soldiers must have stolen it. Then thrown her in here with all the others.

  How many were here? Now that she listened out, she could hear people shifting, whispering, coughing all around her. These were returning Arcosi: they spoke a dialect of Sartolan she could understand. The air was full of the stink of people in captivity: sweat, vomit, worse.

  In the darkness, she thought of Iggie. She pictured his huge green eyes, full of life and humor, the sheen of his scales by firelight, the way he would swish his tail with a quick, sinuous flick when he was irritated.

  Be strong. I’m alive. I will come for you.

  She sent her prayer up into the night, hoping that somehow her dragon would hear.

  The next day was worse. The absence continued, that gaping space when she reached out for Iggie with her mind. The pain of missing him blended with the pain in her body. Milla folded herself tight around it and tried to endure. Hours passed. She knew she should start making plans. Making alliances with the prisoners around her. Trying to bribe the guards. But she was sinking fast. For Iggie’s sake, she made herself sip the cup of water and eat the crust of bread that was shoved with an insult through the bars. Then she curled up again and fell back into a stupor of pain.

  She only swam back to full consciousness when she noticed something unusual and shocking.

  Silence.

  It was impossible. All these people in close proximity, coughing, talking, bickering, crying, snoring, sneezing. But now silence spread along the cells, blanketing the watchful prisoners.

  She froze, like all the others, listening harder than she had in her life.

  There was a dull thud, like a bag of grain hitting the floor. Then a crash, like a chair upturned.

  Milla pressed her face to the bars, straining to see down the building. There was daylight and movement—swift and furtive—giving her a spark of hope.

  She inhaled, waiting.

  She heard the sound she’d been dreaming of: a jangle of keys. Hope ignited into little flames.

  She heard voices she knew: Rosa and Josi. Was she dreaming?

  “Milla?” Josi yelled.

  Hope blazed inside her.

  “Here! I’m here!” she tried to scream, feeling her dry lips crack and bleed.

  “Milla! Where are you?” Rosa yelled back.

  Milla shoved her arms through the bars, ignoring the pain in her sides.

  Josi was there with a bunch of keys in her hand. “Let’s get you out.” She started trying keys one by one in the lock.

  The prison erupted, as every single person started baying for their freedom. It was deafening.

  “Free everyone!” Milla said. Then, “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Of course we won’t leave anyone in here. We didn’t know where you were, so we’ve freed hundreds along the way,” Josi told her, in a rush. “We wouldn’t give up till we found you, alive or dead.”

  “How did you get in?”

  Rosa answered with a wicked grin, “We baked treats for the guards—a special reward for their hard work, sent from the barracks, we said. They didn’t look too close at our uniforms. Too busy reaching for the cakes. Not our fault they’re stupid and greedy.”

  “Are they dead?” Milla asked, as Rosa backed away with her hands full of keys to start on the other cells.

  “Nah. They’ll sleep all day, sore head tomorrow. Josi knows her poisons, doesn’t she?”

  Josi met Milla’s eyes, full of all that was unsaid.

  “We’ve got lots to talk about,” she said. “First, let’s get these people out of here.”

  They streamed outside, blinking in the warm afternoon sunshine. Milla’s ribs ached badly and her legs felt stringy and weak, but freedom was a powerful remedy spreading through her battered body.

  “What’s going on?” Milla said to Rosa, as her friend supported her weight.

  There were crowds of freed prisoners heading across the wharf area, moving toward the docks.

  “The island is at war: we must leave,” Josi said grimly. “Tarya left for Sartola yesterday with Vigo. She told me what happened. They took Serina’s body home.”

  Milla stumbled, remembering.

  Rosa caught her elbow. “We’ll get you out, don’t worry,” she said. “Simeon and Thom have promised us safe passage to Sartola.”

  “They’re at the harbor now,” Josi said. “We’ll meet Nestan and Kara there.”

  “And Iggie? Will he be there, too?” Milla could see the docks now, the boats’ masts in the distance.

  And just then, on the light wind that blew over the island from the north, Milla heard a faint noise. “Stop. Shhh. What’s that?” She closed her eyes, one hand raised, listening.

  Mraaa! Mraaa!

  “It’s Iggie. It’s him.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “He’s alive!” The sound was faint but unmistakable. Up at the dragonhall, it would be deafening.

  “What’s he saying? Is he hurt?” Josi asked. “No one’s seen him since …”

  “No, that’s his warning cry. He’s telling me there’s danger.”

  “Of course there is. Come on, Milla,” Rosa urged her forward. “We don’t have time.”

  Milla kept moving. She didn’t want to slow her friends down, but as soon as they were safe on the Dolphin, she would go to Iggie.

  When they reached the harbor, Milla barely recognized it. The rows of houses facing the harbor were smoke-stained, their windows cracked or broken. The old marketplace was deserted. Where Serina’s tents had been, now there was only ash and strewn rubble, blackened and burned.

  The dockside was a heaving mass. Everyone jostled toward the remaining boats. There, right at the end, the Dolphin was moored. She could see Thom, blocking the gangway, arguing with Simeon.

  “Josi!” Nestan’s voice carried over the din.

  He pushed through the crowd toward them, leaning on his cane, half dragging, half sheltering Kara on his right side. He would reach the boat before them.

  Then Milla saw something that made her blood turn to ice in her veins.

  Behind Nestan, three soldiers dropped down from the harbor wall, closing in on him. Someone must have seen Nestan leave with Kara. Someone must have betrayed them.

  “Soldiers!” she screamed to Nestan. “Behind you.”

  Simeon saw them first. He rushed across the gangplank, grabbed Kara from Nestan, and shoved her roughly behind him, onto the deck. Then he darted back to join Nestan.

  “Catch!” Thom threw Simeon his staff.

  Nestan drew his sword, but he swayed as he did so, his left leg faltering, just for a moment.

  The soldiers closed on him, sensing vulnerability.

  “Oh no. They will not have him,” Josi muttered, next to Milla. “Get on that boat. Now. Both of you.” She withdrew two blades from hidden sheaths in her sleeves, using one to slice down the seam of her skirt so she could move more freely. “Don’t wait for us.”

  “Milla! Get on board.” Thom beckoned to her, releasing ropes.

  Milla wasn’t leaving. She wasn’t. She was staying here with Iggie.

  But Iggie was warning her off. With all his strength, he was telling her to stay away.

  And Kara was there, all alone. She looked small and frail, cowering in the stern.

  Who needed her most?

  “Take Kara. Go now!” Josi yelled without looking back.

  Milla heard the clashing of steel, followed by a scream of pain. She twisted to look. One man lay on the floor. Nestan was upright, clutching his sword arm, dark red blood seeping through his fingers.

  Simeon was trading blows with another soldier. Instead of a sword, he had his stout wooden staff that he used to parry and block. With a grunt, he
twisted it around and landed a hard blow in the man’s gut with one end. The man bent forward, and Simeon slammed the broadside into his chin. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

  Josi was terrifying. She whirled with a blade in each hand, astonishingly nimble. She kicked out sideways, sending the last man sprawling. He crawled away, and staggered back to his feet, still holding his sword.

  “Come on!” Milla yelled. But just then she heard footsteps approaching from behind. She turned, her heart pounding.

  A dozen more black-clad soldiers were running toward them.

  Milla felt paralyzed. She couldn’t decide what to do.

  “Go!” Nestan gasped, now leaning against the harbor wall, still pressing his wound. His face looked gray. “Take Kara and leave.”

  They were fighting for them. So they could escape.

  “Move, Milla!” Rosa screamed in her ear.

  I’m sorry, Iggie. I will return for you!

  With a terrible wrench, the choice was made.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps now, and she hobbled with Rosa along the worn stone of the harbor edge.

  The boat pushed off, leaving a stretch of inky-dark water between them, growing broader every second.

  “Now!” Rosa shouted. She jumped for the boat.

  Milla leapt, half expecting the icy embrace of deep water. But she landed, stumbling, aboard the Dolphin, feeling the deck shift below her feet. She moved toward Kara, shocked at the change in her.

  “Dad!” Thom yelled. “Jump! Come on, you can make it!”

  But Simeon and Josi were guarding the injured Nestan, facing the third soldier together.

  “Dad! We need to catch this tide.”

  “Go, Thom!” Simeon shouted. “Don’t wait for me.”

  Thom spun around, looking grim. “All right.” His eyes sped across the harbor, reading every nuance of wind and light and sea. “Do as I say, we might just make it. Get her below.” He nodded toward Kara.

  Milla guided Kara into the small dark space belowdecks. It stank of damp and fish, but she made a bed out of three empty crates and Kara huddled there, silent now. She could hear Thom yelling to Rosa, “No, that one! Quickly!”

  She felt the Dolphin gather speed. They were leaving Arcosi.

  She had to see. She went up on deck to watch her island home recede in the Dolphin’s wake. Black smoke hung above the city. She saw a flock of gulls circling. Smaller and smaller Arcosi grew, till it was just a dark mound in the vast sea. Tasting salt on her face, she wondered if she would ever return. If she’d ever see Iggie again.

  When Thom no longer needed them, Milla and Rosa went belowdecks to check on Kara. She seemed feverish and confused.

  Milla slipped one arm behind her back and lifted her gently. Rosa held a flask of water to her lips. “Hello, I’m Rosa. Here, drink this.”

  Kara didn’t reply, and water spilled from the edge of her mouth.

  “How long has she been like this?” Milla asked quietly as she felt Kara’s brow.

  “I don’t know, Josi didn’t say. Who is she?” Rosa asked.

  “Kara. One of the old Arcosi: the Returned,” Milla explained, dampening her sleeve and using it to cool Kara’s forehead and cheeks. “But she got here last year. She’s the one from the duke’s ball—remember?”

  “Wow.” Rosa sounded impressed. “That was her?”

  “Oh, believe me, she’s a real tempest, this one.” Milla smiled down at Kara. “And you will be again, soon as you’re better.”

  “Dear Kamilla,” Kara whispered, opening her eyes.

  “It’s Milla.” She tilted her head to ask Rosa, “How long till we reach Sartola?”

  “Hours yet,” Rosa said, her anxious face confirming Milla’s fears.

  Milla peered outside, but no land was visible now: the ocean held them in its vast, dark embrace. She pictured the boat from dragonback. It would be a tiny speck, alone on the Sartolan Straits, vulnerable and small, leaving Iggie farther behind every moment.

  “Did we do it?” Kara asked urgently. “Did we bring the eggs home safe?”

  Rosa raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes, you did,” Milla said, with a nod to Rosa. “Don’t you remember? You met Iggie.” It was a tender relief to say his name, to speak of him, when he occupied her every waking thought. She wondered if she looked as raw and incomplete as she felt without him, like a bird without wings.

  “Ah, yes, of course. Cato’s son,” Kara murmured.

  “Is he?” Milla asked, leaning in.

  “I hoped it would be me,” Kara was saying, half to herself. “Selfishly. All my life, I wanted to be the one to bond with the next dragon. I saw what my mother had with Cato, and I wanted it so badly, but the time never came.”

  “Your mother?” Milla bent close. “Are you the daughter of Karys Stormrider? Did she survive?”

  “Cato saved her.” Kara’s eyes opened wide, focusing beyond Milla. “The dragons knew. They always do.” Her voice was faint and gravelly. “Cato sensed my uncle’s intentions. He wasn’t dangerous. Cato only did it to protect my mother.”

  “What did he do?” Milla prompted her. “Did Cato stop Rufus?”

  “Yes. Both dragons were there when Rufus killed Silvano. He would have come for Karys next. But Cato flamed him. Karys watched her dragon kill her brother, to save her life …” The words died in her throat. “Oh, the horror.”

  Milla closed her eyes, trying not to see it, but her mind was filled with terrible images.

  “My father, Gallus Dorato, he was their dragonguard. He found Karys afterward. They took both dragons and they fled. Aelia almost died, but she bonded with my father eventually.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “Islands … off the coast of Sartola.” Her voice was so faint, Milla had to keep her face right next to Kara’s, to catch each precious word. “They hid there. They sheltered in the caves, hunted wild goats. Later, when they were all strong again, they took turns to find the Arcosi, buying them back with Rufus’s cursed gold, and freeing them.”

  “What happened to the dragons?”

  “As a child, I played with Cato and Aelia. They were so gentle with me. They lived free, in exile, until the end. And then it was given to me to guard their dormant eggs. My life’s work …” Kara’s voice was fading now.

  “You did well. You brought them home to hatch. But I don’t understand,” Milla said, ignoring Rosa’s frown. “Why did they have to hatch on Arcosi? Why couldn’t they stay on the other islands and hatch there?”

  “The spring water: didn’t I tell you? Young dragons only thrive on Arcosi. But when we were ready to return, someone had taken our island for their own. And brought another war upon it, too. We waited, but time was running out. The eggs were getting old. All those years at sea, playing cat and mouse with the duke’s men … But we did it. I wish Josiah knew. We’ll be together again soon enough.”

  Milla didn’t like the sound of that. The old guilt stabbed again, at not preventing Josiah’s death. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She took Kara’s hand, and stroked it gently. Kara’s eyes closed. Her breathing came in rattling gusts.

  “You’re like her,” she said at last, without opening her eyes.

  “Who?” Milla asked.

  “Your mother.”

  Milla froze. Did Kara even know who she was right now? Was this the fever talking?

  “You knew my mother?”

  “Oh, yes,” Kara wheezed, with something that might have been a laugh. “Karys. Kara. Kamilla. Milla. You see? I knew you by the necklace. And your face. You are my granddaughter. Dragon daughter.”

  Milla heard Rosa’s intake of breath next to her. Everything leapt into sharp focus: the light filtering through gaps in the wooden deck, the foul brackish water slopping around their feet, her own fingers squeezing Kara’s arm, spindle-thin through her old cloak.

  “Where is my mother?”

  “Milla, gently!” Rosa warned, one hand on her arm.

  “Wh
ere is she?” she asked again, full of urgency.

  Kara’s expression smothered any hope.

  “No,” Milla said, “no, no, no.”

  “They died. I’m sorry,” Kara murmured, eyes half-closed now. “When you were a baby. We were at sea, sickness burned through our people, taking half from us. We took it hard.”

  Milla’s parents were dead. It hurt more than she expected, after all this time.

  “We sent you ahead to Arcosi, with your aunt.”

  “My aunt?” Milla said, confused.

  “With Josi.”

  Josiah and Josi. Kamilla and Milla. It fitted the same pattern.

  Memories jostled for attention, asserting the truth: Josi weeping in the kitchen the day after her father was murdered, just steps from where she worked. Josi’s shock when Milla burst into the kitchen with Kara on the night the eggs hatched. Josi staying to fight so that her niece and her mother could escape.

  “Why didn’t anyone say?” She had seen her grandfather killed before her eyes. She could have saved him. Milla was faintly aware that tears were rolling down her cheeks now and dripping from her chin. She wiped her face absently. “All this time, I didn’t know.”

  “It was safer that way. For you. For us. For the eggs. You were hidden in plain sight, ready for the day we could return. Josi loved you and raised you, didn’t she? But she didn’t tell you, so you’d still be safe even if she was betrayed. She recruited Nestan to our cause. They both protected your secret.”

  Milla sat in shock, letting the truth sink in. After a while, she felt Kara’s grip slacken, as she drifted off into sleep. She sat there, oblivious to the crick in her neck as she watched Kara rest, oblivious to the throbbing ache in her side where she’d supported Kara’s weight against her cracked rib.

  Her grandmother. She had family.

  She knew where she came from, after all this time.

  “You’re descended from Karys Stormrider? I don’t believe it!” Rosa’s voice was trembling with excitement and wonder.

  Milla stared at Rosa, unable to speak.

  It changed nothing real: Kara was still desperately ill. Karys was still dead, just like her parents. She’d still left Josi and Nestan fighting for their lives. Her city was still at war. Every second away from Iggie still hurt more than she thought possible. And they were still sailing into the unknown, gambling on finding Vigo and Tarya.