Outside, the wind blew, making the building sway and creak. Trenton gripped the beam with one hand, craning his neck to study the floors above him. He could make out a small sliver of moonlight through the broken timbers. When he was fairly sure nothing was going to fall down on his head, he allowed himself to slump against a wall.
He and Kallista should have come here on their own. Maybe they hadn’t killed as many dragons as Angus and Simoni had. But killing dragons hadn’t been the point of leaving Discovery—at least not all of it. No matter how many of the creatures they killed, there were hundreds more ready to take their place. Maybe thousands. This trip was supposed to be about finding the source of the dragons, not seeing how many skulls they could collect along the way.
For a moment, he wondered how his mother and father were. He’d intentionally forced himself not to think about his family since leaving Discovery. Part of it was to avoid feeling homesick. When he and Kallista first left to search for her father, Trenton had been thrilled to explore a world he’d been told was destroyed. And it had been exciting, seeing sunlight for the first time, feeling rain, the trees, the ocean—being free to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
Only the longer he was gone, the more he missed things he’d taken for granted: eating with his parents, hanging out at the park with friends, waiting for his father to come home from the mines. Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he even missed working on the farms of the food production level.
But there was another reason he’d been trying not to think about home. After Trenton and his friends left, the citizens of Discovery had sealed the entrance to the mountain using explosives and heavy equipment. They’d kept a small vent open in case any outside humans came looking for help, but they needed to protect themselves from the dragons outside.
Dragons had attacked Seattle, ripping the city to shreds and killing everyone. The only person who might have escaped was Kallista’s father, Leo Babbage, and that wasn’t a sure thing. The day they found Seattle in ruins, they’d also discovered that the charred remains of the Whipjack airship were gone. They hoped that meant Leo had managed to repair the ship enough to get it in the air and had escaped the city before the dragons attacked. Kallista firmly believed that if he had, he would have headed south in search of the origins of the dragons.
It was clear the attack on Seattle had involved several dragons working together. Had it been revenge for the dragons killed outside Discovery? For the weapons of war Trenton had helped the Whipjacks create? Or simply because the people were there and the dragons could kill them?
Ander, a friend of Trenton’s who had been killed outside Seattle, had been a member of the Order of the Beast, a group who believed dragons could talk to each other as well as to humans.
Trenton didn’t accept that last idea at all. But what if dragons could communicate with each other?
At least a couple of the dragons they fought outside the entrance to Discovery had escaped. If the dragons attacked Seattle for revenge, wouldn’t they attack Discovery as well?
If Trenton and his friends couldn’t locate the source of the dragons and come up with a way to stop them, it might only be a matter of time until the dragons worked together to dig their way into the mountain and kill everyone like they did in Seattle.
The sound of shuffling footsteps came from the direction of the fire. Trenton could barely make out the figure walking toward him.
“I’m not hungry,” Trenton said, assuming it was Clyde coming to smooth things over with a bowl of soup.
“I’m not surprised,” Simoni said. She picked her way through the undergrowth until she’d reached Trenton. “Clyde mixes the weirdest things together. Yet everything he makes ends up tasting like squash.”
Trenton struggled not to grin. Clyde viewed himself as a gourmet chef, but mostly he threw random things in a pot and picked some crazy name for whatever came out. Even Plucky, who’d lived on meager rations in Seattle, turned her nose up at a few of Clyde’s creations.
Still, Trenton couldn’t forget how Simoni had failed to back his attack plan.
“I’m surprised you didn’t stay with Angus.”
Simoni glanced around at the darkness. “I thought it would be more fun to come here and pout with you. It’s the perfect place for it—dark, damp. It’s got a very brooding, ‘leave me alone so I can feel sorry for myself’ atmosphere to it.”
Trenton felt his ears grow hot and was glad she couldn’t see his face. “I’m not pouting.”
“Really? Because I was pretty sure you were feeling sorry for yourself.” She held up her hands. “But, you know, if you came out here to commune with nature or something, I’ll leave.”
How did she manage to see through him so easily and point out how dumb he was behaving? It was aggravating sometimes. But he liked having someone to talk to who understood him so well. He grunted. “Angus is a jerk.”
Simoni nodded. “He is a show-off. And he does take too many chances. The only reason I flew in front of you and Kallista the other day was because I knew Angus was going to take a shot and I wanted to make sure the two of you were out of the way.”
Another gust blew through the open walls of the building, sending ghostly fingers of mist through the dark and ruffling Simoni’s hair. Trenton tried to see her face, but it was too dark to read her expression. “If you know that, why didn’t you tell him to go along with my plan?”
Before she could reply, he shook his head. “I mean, I know it’s a complex strategy, and you haven’t been flying nearly as long as I have—”
“So?” Simoni’s voice had a clear edge to it.
“Well,” Trenton said, “it’s just that you’re used to harvesting plants and milking cows, not flying a dragon. You don’t—”
Simoni cut him off. “It wouldn’t have worked.”
“—understand,” Trenton finished before he realized what she had said. “Wait, what?”
Simoni put her hands on her hips. “Your complex strategy wouldn’t have worked. You had Angus and me flying over the hill to drive the dragons toward the four of you.”
The sound of flapping wings came from over their heads, and Trenton jerked away from the wall before realizing it was only a large bird—an owl, maybe. “I should have known,” he grumbled. “You want to make sure you and Angus get the first shot at the dragons. Another skull on the mighty Devastation.”
Simoni stared at him, silver moonlight reflecting off her eyes. “You may not like it, but Angus is the best shot of all us. His natural aim is amazing. I move the head, but he knows exactly when to fire. I honestly think he could hit a squirrel on the run from two hundred feet away.”
Trenton started to interrupt, but she held up a hand.
“That’s not the problem, though,” she continued. “You’re assuming that when Angus and I roust the dragons they will fly toward the valley. But the first thing the blue dragon will do when it realizes it’s under attack is head for the ocean.”
“Of course.” Trenton’s shoulders slumped. Without water to make steam, a blue dragon was defenseless. How had he not thought of that? “If we’d gone with my plan . . .”
Simoni waited for him to finish.
“We’d have given the blue dragon the chance to prepare a steam attack.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “If you knew that all along, why didn’t you say something back there? Angus would’ve loved that.”
“Maybe I was busy thinking about milking cows or harvesting.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, I guess that was a stupid thing for me to say,” he admitted.
She’d known he was wrong, but she’d intentionally waited to tell him his mistake when they were alone, which meant she hadn’t wanted to embarrass him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling awkward and grateful at the same time.
He shuffled his feet. “Thanks.”
In two quick steps, Simoni closed the distance between them. She reached toward him in the darkness, and he thought for a minute that she was going to . . . well, he didn’t exactly know, but it wasn’t the sharp jab in the chest she gave him.
“You have to stop trying to prove you’re the best at everything.”
Trenton took an involuntary step backward. “What are you talking about? I’m not trying to prove anything.”
“From the day you decided you were going to be a mechanic, you couldn’t stand anyone getting better math or science grades than you. You hated being assigned to food production, but you still had to get the highest score on the midyear tests. It kills you whenever anyone beats you at anything.”
Trenton felt like Simoni had slugged him in the stomach. Of course he wanted to be the best at what he did. Who wouldn’t? “It’s not like it’s a competition.”
“Isn’t it?” Simoni asked. She ticked off the points on her fingers one by one. “You hate that Angus and I have more kills than you. You can’t stand that Kallista and Plucky haven’t consulted with you about their project. You want to be the best mechanic. You have to be the best shot. You want to plan our attacks. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve tried telling Clyde what to cook.”
He didn’t know what to say. Was that how everyone viewed him?
“You’re a good mechanic,” Simoni said, “but Kallista is better. You’re a good shot, but Angus is more accurate. Clyde is funnier than you are. Plucky is better at sensing danger.”
“So I’m mediocre at everything. What am I best at?” Trenton shouted, not caring who heard him.
“Maybe it’s not about being the best. Maybe it’s about everyone doing what they can—working together. Give it time. I’m sure you’ll find your role.”
Before he could say anything, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s get back to camp. Somebody needs to tell Clyde to keep the pumpkin seeds out of his soup.”
Kallista raised her head the next morning, rubbing her eyes. She shifted in Ladon’s front seat where she liked to sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed, but it gave her a sense of security she didn’t feel on the ground. She glanced toward the sky. A glittering mist covered everything, just as it had the last few nights. She couldn’t make out even the faintest trace of dawn. It would be at least another hour, maybe two, before the sun began to think about burning through the fog.
Tugging the blanket back over her head, she’d closed her eyes when she heard a soft click-click-click. That must have been what pulled her from a deep, and much needed, sleep.
The footsteps on the ladder to her left were so quiet she might not have noticed them if the clicking hadn’t already awakened her. Shaking her head, she leaned over the side of the dragon in time to see a face emerge out of the fog.
“It’s too early,” she groaned. “Go back to bed.”
The face broke into a guilty smile but continued to come closer. “Couldn’t sleep, then, could I?” Plucky whispered. “Too rum excited. Figure I can have it done in another hour, two tops. Yeah, yeah?”
Kallista ran her fingers through her dark, spiky hair before wondering if she’d remembered to wash the grease off her hands before collapsing into bed the night before. Oh, well, it was too late to worry about it now. At least the grease and her hair were both the same color. “When you say you can have it done in an hour, you mean we.”
“Right ’nuff.” Plucky climbed the rest of the way up the ladder, bouncing in her mechanical leg braces when she reached the top. “Fair excited, ain’t you? Run the plans through me head all last night. We can power it up in time to smash them beasts t’other side of the hill.”
“We haven’t even tested it,” Kallista grumbled. Prior to meeting the Whipjack girl with the burned legs, Kallista wouldn’t have believed anyone could be more stubborn than she was, but Plucky took persistence to a new level. “It will take at least two to three hours to finish the modifications, then we have to run tests. We don’t even know if it will work, and if it does, we still have to decide whether to run the power to the wings or . . .”
Plucky grinned at her.
“What?” Kallista asked. “I’m not saying I’m going to . . .” But timelines were already running through her head—what pieces needed to be installed, how long it would take, what checks they’d need to make before starting Ladon up. The Whipjack girl had done it again. She threw her blanket aside, shivering in the cold air. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
“Plummy!” Before Kallista was out of her seat, Plucky was over the top of the dragon and opening the hatch. “Let’s get cracking, yeah, yeah!”
• • •
A trickle of sweat ran down the side of Kallista’s nose. With both her hands gripping the driveshaft for the new turbo fan, all she could do was puff out her lower lip and blow at the drip—which, of course, launched the salty bead of water directly into her left eye.
“Hurry up and tighten the last bolt,” she said, trying to blink away the pain.
“Just a nudge more, and . . .” Plucky eased the wrench slightly forward and whistled softly through her teeth. “That’s got it.”
Kallista released her grip on the metal rod. It didn’t move. It looked straight from what she could tell, too. “Give it a spin.”
Plucky grabbed one of the fan blades and turned it. Not a single squeak or vibration came from the bearings. The rod held steady. “Plummy, huh?” she asked.
Kallista nodded. That was one of the things she liked about Plucky. When you showed her how to do something, she picked it up the first time. Plus, unlike some other people in the group, she didn’t feel like she needed to talk all the time. The two of them could work for hours with only the occasional “Hand me that wrench” or “Have you seen the three-quarter-inch bolts?”
“That’s it, then, yeah, yeah?” Plucky asked, wiping her hands on a rag. “It’s finished, ain’t it?”
“I guess it is.” Kallista leaned against the inside wall of the dragon to admire her design. They hadn’t powered it up yet, but already she knew it would work the way she’d imagined it would. She could see the pieces moving in her head as though watching a tiny operational model of what she’d built.
Kallista gathered up the tools and made sure everything was in place to fly. They’d need to put the turbo through a rigorous set of tests before trying it out, but if it worked, it could mean the difference between winning a battle and ending up as a dragon’s lunch. She was proud of what she and Plucky had accomplished.
Along with the pride came a twinge of guilt. This wasn’t the first change she’d made to her father’s design. She and Trenton had modified the steam engine, discovered a metal fabric to use for the wings, and even switched the fuel source from coal to wood. But with each of those changes, she could tell from her father’s plan that he’d expected her to make the modification—counted on it, in fact.
This was the first time she’d changed the dragon in a way he hadn’t planned for. What would he think if he could see what she’d done? Would he approve or . . .
A howl from outside interrupted her thoughts. Clyde screamed.
Dragons!
Kallista was out of the hatch before the first scream died. Scanning the skies, she leaped over the seat and reached for Ladon’s ignition.
“Where’s the rusty buzzards?” Plucky shouted from Ladon’s back.
“It’s okay,” Trenton called up from below, raising his hands. “It isn’t a dragon.”
“B-b-bees,” Clyde said, his face white.
Kallista looked down and saw Clyde backing away from a large brown nest in a tree near where he’d been cooking. She shut Ladon’s access hatch and climbed down the ladder.
By the time she’d reached the ground, Simoni had led Clyde away from the nest. “It’s all right,” Simoni said, holding Clyde by the arm. �
��They aren’t bees. They’re wasps. I’ll take care of them, and you can sit over here while we finish packing.”
Sweat covered Clyde’s face, and his whole body shook. He opened and closed his hands, flexing his fingers, but his eyes never left the nest. How could someone who killed dragons be so terrified of something so small?
Simoni ripped a couple of green boughs from a small pine and tossed them into the morning fire. Immediately, the white smoke from the fire turned a smudgy black. Using her jacket, Simoni fanned the dark smoke up into the nest. The buzzing coming from the brown oval died away, and the wasps that had been flying around crawled back inside.
“Impressive,” Trenton said. “Where did you learn how to do that? And how did you know they were wasps?”
Simoni shrugged. “There were a couple of nests on the food production level. After the green dragon attacked the city, the nests had to be moved. Mr. Blanchard showed us how to put the wasps into a stupor using smoke.”
Kallista looked up at the nest. Wasps were nasty creatures that stung over and over and needed almost no provocation to attack. A lot like dragons. She and Trenton had discovered a couple of wasp nests the first week after leaving Discovery in search of Seattle.
“Why would they keep wasps in Cove?” she asked.
“No idea,” Simoni said. “I got the feeling we weren’t supposed to know about them. They were in a small barn at the back of the level. I think Mr. Blanchard might have gotten rid of them after the attack because I never saw them again.
“I don’t remember that,” Trenton said.
Simoni shook her head. “You and Kallista were in the hospital at the time.”
Clyde, who appeared to be feeling calmer, called out, “I left breakfast for you and Plucky on the rock over there. It’s something new. I call it Asparagus Oatmeal a la Clyde.”
Embers of Destruction Page 2
