The Lost Continent (Wings of Fire, Book 11)

by Tui T. Sutherland

  And then Cricket slowed down, flicking her wings back as she stepped out of the tunnels and onto a polished floor made of real wood, not treestuff. Blue bit back a gasp as he followed her onto the smooth surface. It gleamed in waves of gold and amber and brown, all the way across the vast space in front of them, to the foot of the Temple of Clearsight.

  Blue had read that the Temple of Clearsight was the most beautiful structure in the world. He knew that it had been built by Clearsight’s grandchildren, then partially destroyed hundreds of years later during the war with the LeafWings, and then moved to be reconstructed here, in the heart of Wasp Hive, where it could be kept safe.

  Books had told him that it was made of sixty different kinds of wood, all polished and painstakingly fitted together so it looked like a perfect miracle.

  But books couldn’t describe the feeling of peace that hit him when he saw it.

  The Temple wasn’t an enormous towering structure, as he’d always imagined. It was no bigger than the Cocoon, but built with elegant balance and graceful proportions. The columns that lined the front of it were of a wood so dark it was almost black, embedded with tiny flecks of quartz that looked like distant stars. The roof swept into dragon-tail points at each corner, and a central dome was covered in curved golden wood tiles that looked like scales.

  It sat quietly in the center of the vast wooden courtyard, surrounded by reflecting pools and little nooks lined with bookshelves. Even at this hour, Blue saw a few dragons curled here and there — on a bench, beside a pool, on a bamboo mat between shelves — all of them reading. Tiny flamesilk lanterns glowed beside them; a few floated on the water of the pools, and others hung from the rafters of the temple.

  Another light glowed on the dome, and when Blue looked up, he realized there was a skylight overhead that pierced all the levels, all the way up to the top of the Hive. In the distance, he could see the stars, and the corner of one of the moons shining down on the temple. It must be covered with glass, to keep the rains out, but it was kept so clean it looked like a direct hole to the sky.

  The effect was somewhere between magic library and peace garden, and Blue found himself consumed with sadness that he’d never been here before … and most likely would never be able to come here again. He wished he could live like these HiveWings, with this place at his claw tips every day. He wished he could work for the Librarian, taking care of the temple and all these books, sweeping the floors and feeding the koi and keeping it beautiful, and never getting yelled at by angry LeafWings or chased by angry queen-zombies.

  Instead he was here to destroy this peaceful place, by stealing the one thing it was built around.

  They walked toward the temple as quietly as they could. A long carpet of dark blue silk stretched toward the temple door and muffled their talonsteps. Golden dragonflies and green lizards were woven in a subtle pattern through the carpet. It was more beautiful than even Blue’s favorite Cocoon weavings, and it felt impossibly ancient.

  He glanced sideways at Sundew, to see if the aura of the temple had calmed her down at all. She caught him looking and hurried a scowl back onto her face.

  “Don’t you think it’s amazing?” he whispered.

  “No,” she whispered back ferociously. She waved her tail at the carvings around them. “How many trees had to die to make this place?”

  He didn’t answer. He felt in his bones that the temple was worth everything it took to make it — but he could also imagine how hard it was for Sundew, mourning the vast forests of trees that used to cover Pantala. Queen Wasp and the HiveWings had destroyed all of that. Not just the LeafWings’ homes, but the spirits of the trees they’d clearly loved, too.

  Two HiveWing guards stood on either side of the arched temple door, holding long spears. Blue felt panic stirring in his chest. He tapped Cricket’s wing and she paused, turning back to him.

  “Sundew and I don’t have wristbands,” he said softly. “These guards — I think they’ll notice.”

  Cricket nodded as though he’d drawn her attention to an interesting fish. She strolled off the carpet path and over to one of the pools, sitting down beside it and beckoning for Blue and Sundew to do the same.

  “Those aren’t the only guards,” she murmured when they were beside her. She crouched closer to the water. “There’s another pair guarding the inner door, and in the room with the Book itself, there’s always either two more guards or the Librarian. The Book is in a wooden case, which is locked, and only the Librarian has the key.”

  “Where is the Librarian if she’s not with the Book?” Sundew whispered.

  “She lives in a back room of the temple, so she can be near the Book at all times. Once a Librarian is chosen, she never leaves the temple again.”

  Blue hadn’t known that. Yikes. What would it be like to be a dragon who was never allowed to fly or see the sky? Even though the temple was perfect, he couldn’t imagine anyone who’d be happy to be trapped in it forever.

  “So possibly six guards, plus the Librarian,” Sundew muttered. “You know, it would have been quite helpful if you’d mentioned any of this earlier today, during the planning stages.”

  “I forgot until I saw the temple,” Cricket said innocently. “Sorry. I haven’t been here in a while.”

  Sundew growled softly and started poking through her pouches. Cricket caught Blue’s eye and gave him a small, nervous smile.

  Blue was sure Cricket had remembered the details of the guards all along, but she was still trying to find a way to get out of stealing the Book. He wished he could do something to help her. He wished he could think of a way to rescue Luna, protect the tribes from an invasion of LeafWings, save the Book of Clearsight, and escape with his friends. Ideally with a minimum of danger, violence, or dragons yelling at him.

  His heart stopped suddenly.

  Maybe there was one possible way out of this. The problem was, it was risky and insane … but then, so was stealing the Book of Clearsight.

  We could tell the guards, he thought. We could turn in Sundew and expose her disguise. We give her to Queen Wasp. We tell them where Belladonna and Hemlock are hiding, so the soldiers can swoop in and save Swordtail and catch them.

  We’d be heroes.

  Wouldn’t we?

  Surely capturing three LeafWings and exposing a plot to steal the Book of Clearsight would be the greatest gift they could ever give Queen Wasp. She would HAVE to forgive them for everything else.

  Wouldn’t she?

  He tried to follow that thought. Would she forgive Swordtail for attacking her soldiers? What about Io; could she be forgiven, too? Would Queen Wasp let Blue and Luna go back to their safe, ordinary lives with their mothers? (Maybe if they promised to give all their flamesilk to her?) Would she let Swordtail and Luna be partnered together?

  What about his father — would she set him free, too? (If he was even still alive?)

  What about all the other flamesilks, if there were others? Would she think three LeafWings were a fair trade for however many SilkWings she had trapped in her flamesilk factory?

  If not, could he accept his own freedom and Luna’s, knowing he’d left others behind?

  Or what if Queen Wasp took the information, destroyed the LeafWings, and then gave them nothing in return?

  He might betray Sundew and break his promises, only to end up in a thousand times as much trouble as before. He’d be walking straight into the queen’s clutches with no leverage.

  And how would we explain Cricket? he realized. What if telling the queen about the LeafWings … and how we found them, and where we’ve been for the last three days … means she figures out that Cricket can’t be mind-controlled?

  He needed to keep her out of this, if he did it. He had no idea how. He needed to ask Cricket for advice. He needed to think, but he didn’t have time.

  Sundew slipped something out of one of her pouches and palmed it. She nodded to Cricket. “Walk straight inside. Don’t look guilty.”

  “Wh
at are you going to do?” Cricket whispered.

  “Something effective,” Sundew hissed. “Let’s go!”

  Cricket led the way back to the silk path and headed toward the front door of the temple. One of the guards was watching them intently, while the other had his gaze focused on his spear. Blue found it harder and harder to breathe. Should he do it now? He could run forward and throw himself on the guards’ mercy. If he was going to betray Sundew, he had to do it before they were caught, in order to earn Queen Wasp’s gratitude.

  But Cricket … is this what she would want?

  He heard whisking sounds from behind him, like two tiny puffs of air. He glanced back at Sundew. She jerked her chin at him: Keep walking.

  Cricket had reached the steps of the temple. This was it. The guards would step forward and demand to see their wristbands. They’d arrest him and Sundew on the spot, and it would only be a moment before they realized Sundew’s second pair of wings was fake.

  Turn her in. Turn her in now.

  Blue took a deep breath and focused on the guard who’d been watching them.

  Which is when he realized … the guard wasn’t moving. His eyes were still fixed on the carpet where they’d been, several steps back. His black wings, spotted with large yellow and red splotches, were halfway raised and his mouth was slightly open as though he’d been about to speak.

  But he was as still as the statue of Queen Wasp outside.

  As still as the prisoners on Misbehaver’s Way.

  Blue whipped his head around to the other guard. She was paralyzed the same way, frozen with her spear in her talons and a slight frown on her face.

  How did Sundew do that? Only HiveWings had that kind of nerve toxin, and only a few of them. And as far as Blue knew, they could only wield it from up close by stabbing little stingers into their victims.

  But Sundew had done it from a distance somehow, and so quietly that none of the dragons in the temple grounds had even looked up from their books. Unless someone looked carefully at the guards, it was possible no one would notice they were paralyzed at all for most of the night.

  “Keep moving,” Sundew whispered. “You’re both staring.”

  Cricket shook herself and stepped through the archway. Blue wished he could pull her aside and talk. She must be terrified. At least, he was terrified.

  The room they stepped into was as tranquil as the grounds outside. To their left, a painting of Clearsight took up almost the entire wall, with small lanterns flickering on either side of it. She looked kind and wise, like Blue had always imagined. Offerings were piled below the painting: bundles of wilting marigolds, tiny silver sugar cakes, little weavings of poems.

  To their right, the wall was divided into hundreds of small cubbyholes in a honeycomb pattern. Most of the holes held scraps of paper — wishes written by dragon claws, dreams for what they hoped the future would hold, folded and tucked inside. A desk stood in the corner with more paper for anyone who wanted to write one of their own.

  Blue imagined all the dragons who had come through here, all their shaking talons asking Clearsight for hope, for luck, for love. HiveWings and SilkWings alike visited the temple and believed in Clearsight. She helped them believe in a better future.

  Will they lose that faith without the Book? If we steal it, does this all fall apart? Will anyone come here anymore?

  He knew what he wished he could write on one of those scraps of paper. Please keep my friends safe. Please tell me what to do.

  Cricket didn’t pause in the antechamber. She kept walking, toward the inner sanctum. Blue, who had slowed down to look around, was able to watch Sundew as she went past him. He saw her lift something to her mouth and swiftly blow into it. Once. Slight tilt to the right. Twice.

  She had uncanny aim. He saw the moment each guard froze — spears slightly lifted, mouths ajar as though they’d sensed a threat and were about to order them to halt.

  Whatever she was shooting, the guards were no use to him now. He couldn’t hand over Sundew to a pair of statues.

  How are we going to get out of this?

  There had to be more than just guards between them and the Book. Maybe the case would be impossible to get into. He really hoped it was.

  Cricket stepped between the two guards, casting them each a nervous glance. Neither of them so much as twitched. With a deep breath, she opened the double doors and stepped into the final room.

  This one was small and shadowy and perfectly square, like standing inside a wooden box. Blue squinted at the glimmering ceiling and realized that it was inlaid with moonstone stars. The only light in the room was a lantern that hung over the case that held the Book.

  Blue caught his breath. He knew it wasn’t the Book itself, but the case was carved to look like a book, too … a book with dragons sweeping across the cover and clambering around the spine, tails twining into vines, wings spilling into clouds, eyes like suns. The podium holding up the case was shaped like a leafless tree, branches spreading to support the book. For a moment he couldn’t understand why Queen Wasp had allowed that here, when trees were forbidden in all other art. Then he realized that the podium was probably as old as the temple, from a time long before Queen Wasp’s decrees … a time before the forests were destroyed.

  He stepped to Cricket’s side, and she reached to brush his shoulder with her wing. He knew she felt it, too … the sacredness of this place. The magic of the Book of Clearsight.

  But if Sundew felt it, she didn’t let it slow her down. She shoved past them, darted to the podium, and grabbed the case.

  It didn’t move.

  For a moment she wrestled with it furiously, trying to pick it up, but the case was inextricably joined to the podium — and when she tried to pick that up, she discovered it was as firmly rooted to the floor as though it had grown from the wooden planks.

  With a growl of frustration, Sundew seized the lock and tried to yank it off. Blue realized that that, too, would fail, and then her next step was going to be smashing the ancient case.

  He stepped toward her, trying to raise the nerve to argue with her. And then a voice spoke from the darkest patch of shadows at the back of the room.

  “Stop. The Book of Clearsight is not for you.”

  The Librarian stepped into the light: a tall, bony dragon whose scales were the pale orange of unripe apricots, marked with a zigzagging triangle pattern of black along her spine and tail. She wore a dark silk veil that shrouded her face.

  “Little dragons,” she hissed. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  She knows. She knows everything. The Book told her we would try to steal it, just like I knew it would.

  Blue’s heart hammered loudly against his ribs. They were trapped.

  If I talk fast, maybe I could still turn Sundew in. Maybe they don’t know where Belladonna and Hemlock are. The queen might still have mercy on us, if we go quietly and tell her everything.

  If I don’t fight. If I follow orders. If I keep my head down and say I’m sorry.

  But staring into the Librarian’s hooded face — he knew he couldn’t do any of that.

  He couldn’t hand the LeafWings over to the queen’s cruelty. He couldn’t bow his head and go back to being obedient, now that he knew about flamesilks and the mind control and the Chrysalis. After seeing the guards closing in on Luna, he knew he’d never trust the queen again.

  The Librarian took another step forward and tilted her head toward Sundew. A hiss escaped from under the veil.

  “You’re a LeafWing,” she snarled.

  “You seem surprised,” Sundew said mockingly. “I thought you were ‘expecting’ us. Didn’t your precious Book tell you I’d be a LeafWing?”

  “A LeafWing, a SilkWing … and a HiveWing,” the Librarian mused, looking at each of them in turn. She seemed to stare at Cricket the longest, and then suddenly she reached up and ripped off her veil.

  Her eyes were blank and white as pearls.

  Cricket gasped, flinching backward.<
br />
  “What strange treason is this?” the Librarian roared. “Why can’t I get inside your mind, worm?”

  Blue jumped in front of her, not even really knowing what he was doing, only that he needed to be between Cricket and the queen who could see everything.

  “I’m the one you’re looking for!” he cried. “Blue — Luna’s brother. The maybe-flamesilk.” He rubbed at his arm so the paint flaked off a bit more and his true colors shone through. “See? I’ll turn myself in. Please just let them go.”

  “Never,” the queen snarled in the Librarian’s voice. She reached for them with long stingers sliding out from under her claws.

  And then Sundew cannoned into the Librarian’s side and slammed her into the wall. The Librarian turned with a shriek and slashed at Sundew’s face, but Sundew ducked and spun in the same movement, smashing her tail into the Librarian’s chest.

  The Librarian was bigger and stronger, but the LeafWing fought like a cornered tiger. They wrestled furiously around the tiny space, hissing and clawing and kicking at each other, until Sundew suddenly seized the Librarian’s head and threw her to the floor. She caught one of the HiveWing’s wrists as the stinging claws came for her again and snapped the arm bone with a brutal crack.

  The Librarian screamed again and stabbed her back claws into Sundew’s underbelly. They rolled into the wall, leaving a smear of blood along the floor.

  What would Clearsight think of us? Blue thought with despair. Fighting over her legacy like this. What did she see in this vision, and what did she think of it? Was she proud of the Librarian for defending the Book? Did she hate us for trying to steal it?

  He looked up, as though her spirit might be in the moonstones above them, watching the scene unfold.