The Journey to Dragon Island

by Claire Fayers

  A mournful howl issued from the galley, followed by the scrabble of claws on wood. Boswell was trying to dig his way out again. Brine had said to look after him, but Trudi wondered how long they should keep the dragon locked up in there. She slid out of her hammock and padded barefoot to the door.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “They’re not back yet. I’m sure everyone will be back tomorrow, and then we’ll let you out. Probably.” She hoped so. Ewan hadn’t contacted her through the speakstone, so she knew nothing had changed. He’d tell her if anything had happened.

  Boswell howled some more. Trudi put on her stern face and rapped on the door. “It’s no good carrying on like that. You have to stay in the galley where it’s safe. And don’t set fire to anything, either.”

  The dragon noises stopped. Trudi stood by the door for a while. “Are you all right in there?”

  Nothing.

  Maybe he really had set fire to something. Trudi smiled, then her eyes widened in panic and she jerked the door open.

  A silver-green streak flew past her head. Trudi yelled and ducked, her shout bringing pirates tumbling out of their hammocks.

  “Shut the hatch!” Trudi screamed. “Stop that dragon!”

  Too late: Boswell shot out of the hatch. It slammed shut behind him. Trudi threw it back open and saw Tim Burre’s surprised face looking down at her. “I think Boswell just flew past me.”

  “I know.” A tiny dark shape paused between sea and sky, and a tongue of fire flared briefly. Trudi groaned.

  “What do we do now?” asked Tim Burre. “Brine’s going to be furious.”

  Never mind Brine. Trudi was suddenly thinking of all the things that might happen to one small dragon on that island. She dashed back down to the galley and grabbed a packet off the shelf. Then she ran up the stairs. “Crispy chili spider legs,” she said, waving the greasy bag at Tim Burre. “They’re Boswell’s favorite. Bill, get Peter’s starshell; the smell of magic might attract Boswell back. We’re going after him.” As an afterthought she tossed Kaya’s speakstone to Tim Burre. “You better keep this in case Ewan gets in touch. Whatever you do, don’t tell him Boswell is missing. Who wants to come with me?”

  * * *

  Peter was about halfway down the stairs when the cold hit him. It seemed to come from every direction at once, slamming into his bones and filling him with a dread that pinned him to the spot. He didn’t know what was at the bottom of these steps, but he knew he didn’t want to find out. He wanted to turn around now and go back to bed where it was safe and warm.

  The moment he began to turn around, the cold eased. Not by much, but it was enough that Peter stopped. The feeling of panic wasn’t coming from inside himself, he realized: It was all around him. He put a hand on the wall and jerked away with a hiss of pain. He hadn’t felt much magic in the castle walls yet, but it was here now, buzzing against his flesh as if hundreds of angry, stinging insects were trying to get free. The whole stairway was infested with spells—spells that set his heart pounding with fear and made his legs shake at the thought of taking one more step.

  Gripping the torch in both hands, Peter held it out in front of him and forced his feet to move down to the next step. Even though he knew what was causing this, it didn’t make it any easier.

  But then the decision to be less afraid seemed to work all by itself. The next step down was easier, and the next one easier still. Don’t think; just keep walking.

  The stairs ended in a corridor so cold and dark that it felt like no one had walked there for centuries. Peter’s footsteps sounded muffled. He wasn’t sure whether he was heading into the castle or to the outside of it. He walked slowly, not quite trusting what he could see by the flickering torchlight.

  Then, unexpectedly, the torch struck something solid right across the corridor. Peter paused in surprise. As far as he could see, the corridor continued on as before, but there was definitely something in the way.

  He felt around and made out the outline of a door and then a series of locks. Good old-fashioned, unmagical locks. Peter almost laughed. Somebody had gone to the trouble of making the door invisible but not magically fastening it as well.

  The starshell in his hand held just enough power. He pushed and prodded at the locks until the various mechanisms clicked and, one by one, they came undone. The door didn’t budge at first, but he shoved it hard, and it finally came unstuck and slammed back.

  The door opened onto nothing. Looking down, Peter saw empty sky and the land far below. For a moment he clung to the wall while his heart pounded. Why have a door that led nowhere? If you were worried about people falling, why not just wall up the end of the corridor so that nobody could get through?

  A thin gust of wind came up around his feet. The cold woke his senses. Carefully, he knelt and felt out into the emptiness as far as he dared. There was definitely a hole, but as he leaned out, his hands found stone on the other side. The corridor continued invisibly. Whatever was on the other side must be very important indeed for somebody to go to this much trouble to hide it.

  Or there was nothing there and these were all half-broken spells.

  The thought came into his head, but Peter didn’t believe it for a moment. He stood at the edge of the hole, looking down, then he drew in a deep breath and jumped.

  His feet landed solidly and he cried out in relief. In the same moment, as if he’d passed through the boundaries of the illusion, he saw what was ahead.

  Some small part of him was not surprised at all. The rest of him was shouting in horror. Kaya had lied. The magus knew that dragons were more than stories. He knew they’d lived on this island. Pieces of starshell in the walls of the castle could never have kept it afloat for this long. Only one thing could have produced the amount of magic the castle needed.

  And there were four of them here.

  Eggs. Dragon eggs.

  CHAPTER 22

  Dragons, it is said, live in volcanoes. While other creatures would perish in the heat, dragons thrive in it. Fire is like water to them. Once, dragons nested on all the islands in the Western Ocean. But magi, greedy for their eggs, killed them all one by one. They drove dragons from their nests and stole their eggs before they could hatch, and one year the dragons did not return to nest.

  (from THE HISTORY OF ORION’S KEEP)

  Peter wasn’t in his bed. Brine gazed into the empty room with a mixture of concern and annoyance. Trust him to go wandering when she wanted to talk to him.

  Unless, of course, he hadn’t just wandered off, and something had happened to him. Peter did have a talent for getting himself into trouble. He’d said he was going to look for dragons. Maybe he’d found one and it had eaten him.

  Panic flooded her even though she knew there was no need to worry. Peter was probably in Tom’s room next door. She banged on the door, then wrenched it open.

  “Peter…”

  He wasn’t there. Tom sat in bed, his notebook balanced on his knees and the puzzle box lying beside him.

  Honestly, he was obsessed with that thing. Brine snatched it up and threw it onto the floor. “Tom! Peter is missing. Remember Peter? Your friend.”

  “Brine…,” said Tom.

  She stamped on the box. She put all her frustration into it until it felt like she was stamping her way out of prison. She didn’t stop until the box was in pieces. “I’m sick of puzzles,” she said. “I’m sick of not knowing what to do. That thing was taking over your mind—you even forgot your notebook at breakfast.”

  “I didn’t,” said Tom.

  “Yes, you did. I saw you.”

  “You saw me pretend,” said Tom.

  Brine stopped, her mouth open. Tom grinned at her and squirmed across the bed so he could sit on the edge. “I wanted to see what the magi would do if they thought I was losing my memory. They should be panicking and trying to get me out of the castle before I forget everything. Instead, they watched me, but they seemed more interested than anything. I even wrote in my notebook that I was f
orgetting things and left it for Ebeko to read. She didn’t say a word, though she watched me like an eagle after that. It was almost like they were expecting it to happen, and they were only surprised that it happened so fast.”

  Brine thought back to the morning, Ebeko following Tom out the door. “Maybe they didn’t really notice,” she said uncertainly. “They don’t know you like we do.” That had to be it—because if it wasn’t, it meant Kaya knew far more about the children’s illness than he was telling them. She stirred the bits of puzzle box with her foot.

  Something glittered amid the broken pieces.

  “What’s that?” Tom asked. Brine bent to pick it up.

  Whatever it was, it was coated all over in gold, and the gold was engraved with overlapping shapes forming patterns that drew Brine’s gaze and made her feel like she was being pulled out of herself and into them.

  Starshell, she thought. Engraved with who-knew-what spellshapes. “We need Peter,” she said, but Peter wasn’t here. Brine gathered up the bits of broken wood; it was all she could think of to do. She felt tears pricking her eyes. “What do we do now?”

  “Well, we could tell Ewan,” said Tom. “And he could wake Kaya and have a big fight. Or … wait a minute. Did you say Peter was missing?”

  Brine nodded. “I bet he’s gone exploring without us. He’s going to get into trouble.”

  “Where would a magician go in a place like this?” asked Tom. He smiled. “There’s a box of starshell in the library. Let’s start there.”

  * * *

  The four eggs sat in nests of sand. They were smaller than Boswell’s egg, and while Boswell’s egg had been covered in a thick layer of ice, these shone with a warm light. Peter reached out instinctively to touch one of them before realizing what he was doing and drawing his hand back sharply. When Boswell had hatched, the explosion had torn Marfak West’s ship apart. Four eggs together would destroy the whole castle and everyone in it.

  Peter rubbed his hands across his face, his thoughts whirling. He’d have to talk to Cassie, and he’d need to tell Brine, too—tell her that the home she’d dreamed of was built on lies and stolen dragon eggs—and that her father was the biggest liar of all.

  But then … maybe Kaya didn’t know? The first magi, the people who’d built the castle over a hundred years ago, were the ones who’d filled the walls with starshell. They would have been the ones who put the eggs here. It was possible that the three magi who remained had no idea what was hidden just beneath their feet.

  But even as Peter was thinking it, he knew it couldn’t be true. Hiri and Ebeko might not know, but Kaya definitely did. Kaya knew every stone of this castle. He knew what was here and he’d been hiding it. That was why he’d wanted to send Peter back to the Onion and why he’d made sure someone was watching him every minute. He must have been afraid the whole time that Peter would discover his secret.

  Well, now the secret was out. Peter clenched his fists hard. How could Kaya have done this? To know that four dragon eggs waited here, unhatched, to draw off their magic and never allow the dragons to live while all the time, the amount of magic in the world kept increasing. If Kaya knew anything about dragons, he should know that the world needed them.

  The air in the room felt too hot, too heavy. Brine liked Kaya. She thought he was trying to save the island, and she’d be devastated to learn the truth.

  Somebody had to tell her, though. Peter left the room and fastened all the locks on the door as best he could. It didn’t look quite right, but he didn’t think anyone would be coming down here to check. He’d talk to Ewan and Cassie first, and then he’d have to tell Brine and Tom.

  Quickly, not caring that his footsteps echoed along the stone corridor and stairway, he ran back the way he’d come.

  He stepped out onto the battlements and stopped, his heart sinking.

  Kaya stood a few paces away, alone. The tip of his staff glowed.

  “You’ve broken Orion’s Law,” he said.

  Strangely, the magus looked sad. Peter had expected him to look angry, or guilty, anything but this weary expression, as if the weight of the whole island had just landed on his shoulders.

  Some of Peter’s rage dissipated. “I know what you’re hiding here. Do you want to talk about this before I tell the others?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” said Kaya.

  “Yes, there is. You’re keeping dragon eggs. You knew all along that dragons really existed. You could have brought them back, but you’re keeping them, using their magic. Why?” Peter took a step forward. He wished he’d gone to the library for starshell after all—or maybe it was just as well that he didn’t, because his imagination suggested several things he wanted to do right now, and none of them were pretty …

  Kaya stood completely still. He was a magus, Peter thought. He of all people ought to understand. “Dragons balance the amount of magic in the world. Now they are gone, and there is too much magic. That means giant spiders, mirages, and monsters. You think you need the eggs for their magic, but we need dragons so much more.”

  “There have always been monsters and magic,” said Kaya. “Dragons are best left to the stories now. I’m sorry. I’ll take care of Oshima, I promise.”

  A spellshape flared to life around Peter’s feet, and he realized too late what Kaya was doing. “Wait!” he shouted.

  The whole world turned black, and for a second or two Peter felt like he was floating and the only thing he could feel was a final, faint crackle of magic from the starshell in his hand. Then his feet hit something solid, and the night rushed back in around him.

  He appeared to be standing on a small patch of land in the middle of a lake. The water looked thick and dark and undulated softly. When Peter moved his feet, they squelched, and he felt water seeping into his shoes.

  Then he heard a snarl.

  * * *

  The library was empty. Brine shut the door behind her and put her lamp onto the table. Her palms were damp. “He’s not here,” she said needlessly. “Now what?” This brought back memories of stealing into Tallis Magus’s library by night, and she knew what that had led to.

  Tom held up the spellstone that Hiri had given him. “When I tried it before, I asked it to show me the most interesting books in the library and the spell hit the floor, over there somewhere. I thought it had gone wrong, but let’s try again.” He rubbed the starshell between his hands. “Show me the most interesting books in the library.”

  Amber light burst out and speared straight into the floor. Brine squeaked in fright. It had worked—Tom had used magic. She tried to take the spellstone off him. “Let me have a go.”

  Tom closed his hand over the stone. “We’ve got to conserve magic. We don’t know how many spells this thing has got left in it or how long it will take to recharge.”

  Brine crossed to the door. Everything was quiet outside, so Peter couldn’t have been caught yet. “All right,” she said. “Quickly, though.”

  She hurried to the corner of the room where the spell had hit and pulled back the rug. The floor was all in squares beneath, each one looking solid and solidly fixed. Brine’s heart sank. Tom was so certain something was hidden here that she’d been sure she’d find a trapdoor or secret passage.

  Tom knelt beside her and started pushing at the squares.

  “What are you doing?” asked Brine.

  “I think this might be like the puzzle boxes.” He pushed down hard on two of the blocks together. Something clicked but nothing moved. Tom hit the floor. “Come on—open up!”

  The squares weren’t all lined up in rows. If you looked at a certain set in the right way, they formed a triangle. Or a volcano. And another block, higher up and to the right, was slightly smaller than the others. “That one,” she said, pointing.

  “A volcano and a castle. Got it!” Tom pressed down on the smaller block.

  At the same time, Brine reached in and pushed the set of blocks that formed the volcano.

  The sectio
n of floor sank down so quickly that both lost their balance and fell against each other. Brine picked herself up and bent to peer into the hole underneath. “Tom, I think we did it. There’s something in here.”

  She put her hand in and felt the edges of a box. Holding her breath, she eased the lid off and started lifting out books, passing each one back to Tom. Most of them were handwritten, and some weren’t even proper books, just stacks of paper held together with string.

  “The most interesting books in the library,” said Tom with a grin.

  The two of them read fast. Columns of figures, journal entries, notes about magic. Brine read with a growing sense of dread. Here it was, staring back at her in faded ink: everything that was wrong with the castle.

  Then she noticed that Tom was staring at one book, reading a page over and over again, and his suntanned face redder and angrier than she’d ever seen it.

  “What have you found?” she asked.

  Tom pushed his hair back and slapped the book down on the floor. “Something I hoped wouldn’t be here at all.” His voice shook with the full force of a librarian’s disapproval. “This is Kaya’s notebook.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Magic may seem unnatural to the ignorant, but it is merely another form of energy, and energy can easily be converted from one form into another. It happens all the time in spellcasting—magic is transformed into light or heat or healing. The question is, how do we turn ordinary energy into magic? We need to start with the right type of energy.

  (from RECORDS OF ORION’S KEEP— First Magus Belen Kaya)

  Three pirates crept through the undergrowth of Dragon Island.

  “Boswell,” called Trudi. She rattled Peter’s box of starshell gently. “Who’s a good dragon? We’ve got magic for you. And spider legs. Bos-weeeeeeell!”

  She paused and listened. There were plenty of noises—branches rustling, birds hooting and calling, but nothing sounded like a dragon. She rattled the starshell again.