Hyster released an outraged roar from just over his shoulder.
Shocked senseless, Tom and Porter abruptly released their grip on the map and reeled over backward.
Apparently the great dragon had ceased testing her wings and settled directly behind Tom. Apparently she’d been watching over his shoulder the whole time as they toyed with the map. Apparently she’d liked the bubble.
Which meant she wasn’t at all happy with Tom.
She drew herself up to her full height, spread her enormous wings, and lowered her long, serpentine neck. Her ugly, scaled, multi-horned face was only inches from Tom’s. Her ruby-colored eyes narrowed to slits. Razor-sharp fangs as long as Tom’s fingers glistened. She released an angry snarl. Her hiss of hot, charcoal-scented breath was strong enough to blow back his hair.
Tom’s own breathing ceased altogether. So did his heart. Or at least it felt that way. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. This was it.
“No!” shouted Smudge, putting himself between Tom and Hyster. “Stop it!”
To Tom’s amazement, the dragon, who he’d been convinced was about to bite his head off, stopped. She blinked once, turned and looked at Smudge.
Tom shot backwards, putting some distance between himself and the great beast. Smudge, however, didn’t move.
“Smudge!” Porter shouted. “Get away from her before she swallows you alive!”
“She would never do that.”
“I have an idea. Let’s not find out.”
With that, Porter grabbed the boy by the arm and drew him to his side. Hyster threw back her neck and roared in fury. Then she lowered her scaly, horned head to bring her gaze eye-to-eye with Porter. A long, angry hiss slid from between her fangs. Steam shot from her nostrils. Porter brought up his dagger to ward her off—as though that puny weapon would have any impact on a creature so large. If anything, it would just incite the beast’s rage.
“Let go of my arm!” Smudge cried.
“Hold still!” Porter shouted back, desperately trying to keep the squirming boy behind him, while holding off the increasingly agitated dragon in front of him.
Hyster threw back her head and roared again. Her eyes narrowed. A stream of searing flame missed Porter’s face by mere inches.
Smudge cried, “Let me go! She thinks you’re hurting me!”
He twisted free and ducked around Porter, coming to stand in front of the dragon. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay. Friends.” So saying, he placed one small hand on Hyster’s chest, and one small hand on Porter’s chest. “Friends.”
The dragon appeared to understand. Her posture relaxed as the fury slowly left her. Smudge waved his arm to indicate Tom, Porter, and Willa. “Friends. Good friends.”
Hyster lowered her neck and brought her head down to nuzzle against Smudge’s chest. The boy smiled and stroked her gently, as though he were petting a bunny’s soft fur, rather than a fire-breathing creature with scales and horns and fangs.
A wave of pure astonishment surged through Tom. He stood motionless for a long beat, too stunned for words. He looked at Willa and Porter, seeing the same reaction on their faces. Their eyes were wide and their mouths agape.
Smudge looked at them and smiled brightly. “Want to see something? I taught her a trick.”
He grabbed a stick and sent it sailing into the woods. Hyster blinked once, tossed her head, and with a flap of her gigantic wings, shot skyward. She snatched the stick between her jaws, spun around, and bounded through the air to land in front of Smudge. She dropped the stick and reared back, her tongue lolling happily and her enormous tail…wagging.
What the…?
“Now one of you try it,” Smudge urged.
Tom cast a glance at Porter and Willa. Moving carefully, he picked up the stick and gave it another good toss. With the exact same result.
Hyster fetched.
The dragon happily bounded after the stick and returned it to Tom, ready for another toss.
“See?” Smudge said. “She’s a good dragon. She doesn’t mean to hurt anyone. She just wants to play.”
Tom didn’t exactly speak dragonese, but the creature’s intent was fairly clear. Sure, she’d been a little cranky at first, but now that she was fully revived from her slumber, she wanted to play with them. Play.
Willa said, “She’s...sweet.”
He and Porter exchanged a look. They’d traded one problem for another. Maybe they were no longer in immediate danger, but that wasn’t necessarily good. This was the dragon that was supposed to lead them in battle? Defeat The Watch? Unseat Keegan? This was the legendary weapon they’d risked their lives to find? Some great and terrible dragon she was.
Porter grunted and gathered the map. He rolled it and passed it to Tom to secure in the case he carried.
Tom frowned. “You’re putting it away? Shouldn’t we try to fix it first?”
“Fix it?”
“It’s supposed to work. We asked it to show us Salamaine’s heir. The new king. It didn’t. Unless that bubble—”
“Was obviously Hyster. Dropping down from the sky to sit right next to us.”
“So we still don’t know where to find him.”
“Hey, guys.” Willa’s voice carried over to them.
Ignoring her, Porter looked at Tom. “Forget Salamaine’s heir. We’ve got bigger problems. That creature is supposed to win wars for us. Battle Keegan. Defeat The Watch. Look at her! She’s as much use as a paper sword!”
“Okay. I know it looks bad. But maybe if we find—”
“Great idea. Let’s keep looking. Let’s keep risking our necks—”
“Hey, guys!”
“What?” they snapped in unison.
“You ought to see this.”
They turned and followed the direction of her gaze. Martin, the tribal leader, followed by a group of a dozen or so of his warriors, was heading their way. They came to a stop before them. Uneasy silence reigned as they sized each other up.
Martin said, “Hundreds of years we have lived in these caves, hiding, protecting Hyster, going above ground only to patrol the forest. Waiting for the chosen ones to arrive.”
Tom shot a glance at his brother. The chosen ones. That was spreading it on a bit thick, all things considered. But since the error was in their favor, he let it go.
Martin continued, “Hyster has answered you. Now it is our duty to follow her. We will not stay behind. We will accompany you. We will battle Keegan’s Watch and we will defeat him. We will leave these caves and hunt until we find Salamaine’s true heir.”
Tom looked at Porter, Willa, and Smudge. Saw his own surprise reflected in their expressions.
Then he turned and surveyed the warriors. Gregor’s knights. Absent the green and brown paint that had coated their skin, their bodies were unnaturally pale. A genetic condition caused by generations spent living underground, he supposed. No wonder they were ready to once again see the light of day. Eager to fight, rather than hide.
He would feel exactly the same way.
Chapter Twenty-One
RACING WITH DRAGONS
Martin’s lake did in fact wash them all out to sea. But not in the way Martin had threatened. According to the map, the underground lake emptied into a river that coursed through the Miserable Forest, carrying them east toward the sea—and Divino. Tom rode with Porter, Willa, and Smudge in the hollowed-out trunk of an enormous tree. Drifting on dozens of boats behind them was the entire Djembe army: Gregor’s lost knights. A flotilla, it was called, if Tom remembered his naval history correctly.
The warrior boy and warrior girl sat in the position of honor in the lead Djembe boat. A silver collar now hung around the boy’s neck, a ruby dangling from the end. The girl was adorned with a similar necklace, from which hung a huge, glittering pearl. In homage to the dragons that had led them to the underground cave, Tom supposed.
Martin sat behind the two young warriors. He looked as fierce and determined as any leader could hope to be,
giving Tom some hope that the upcoming battle might just tip in their favor. The fact that the warrior leader had brought his dragons with him didn’t hurt either. They’d need all the help they could get.
Those same dragons were now flying overhead, acting like navigators. They led Hyster eastward, swooping in and out to guide her and keep her on track. Hopefully those same dragons would help Hyster summon her fighting game, though Tom admitted that seemed unlikely. Maybe one day, with some serious training, she could help them. But at the moment, Porter was right. Hyster appeared to be of little use.
Each of the Djembe boats was manned with long, broad-tipped oars, but there was no need to use them. The current was strong. The Miserable Forest sped past as the river coursed beneath them, carrying them toward the walled gates of Keegan’s domain.
Tom lost track of time. After a bit, the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, throwing long, ominous shadows along the riverbank. Tomorrow was their thirteenth birthday. They had until midnight to pull this off. If they failed, the passageway between worlds would be sealed forever and Tom would be trapped.
He looked at Porter. His brother, once again divining his thoughts in that weird twin way of his, nodded. “We can do it. We have a plan.”
True. They definitely had a plan. Tom just wished they’d been able to come up with a good one.
They would rely on blunt force and the element of surprise. That was the thrust of it. Forget Hyster and her alleged fury. Since that wasn’t happening, they switched to Plan B. Now that they had an army at their disposal, Porter intended to make the most of it. Attack The Watch, raid Keegan’s quarters, and seize Keegan himself while the element of surprise was in their favor. Bloody and brutal, but with any luck, effective. Once that was accomplished, they could bring down Keegan once and for all. Lock him in his own dungeon to await trial.
Simple enough on the surface, but by Tom’s count, there were a million things that could go wrong. Maybe more.
“We never did find Salamaine’s true heir,” he reminded Porter.
“Maybe your friend Umbrey has found the new king already,” Smudge suggested. “Maybe he’s waiting for us to get back with Hyster.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Tom agreed.
Inside, however, he was battling a feeling of deep unease. Battle, blood, and betrayal, said Varrick’s prophecy. Betrayal of whom?
Try as he might to put his fears into perspective, Tom couldn’t shake the feeling of dark foreboding that hung over him. He rubbed his palm, which began to throb again from effects of the thick splinter that had pierced it earlier. A warning. Something was wrong, but he just couldn’t see it.
Suddenly something struck him that he hadn’t considered before. “Umbrey,” he said slowly, feeling around the edges of an idea. “Was it at all strange that he happened to find me at the exact moment The Watch appeared?”
Porter frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. It’s just odd. Isn’t it? I mean, the passage between worlds had been shut for years, then the three of them show up at nearly the same moment?”
Porter shrugged. “Luck, I guess. You told me he saved your neck.”
“He did, but—”
They rounded a bend in the river and Porter motioned him to silence. A single light appeared on the horizon. The evening’s first star, Tom thought, and then quickly corrected himself. No. Not a star. The light from the tower guarding Keegan’s gates. They’d reached the portal to the city.
The time for battle had come.
The Djembe silently guided the boats to the river’s edge and banked them there. They gathered their weapons and disembarked, their movements as strong and sure as the lapping of the current. Under Martin’s direction, using hand signals so as not to disturb the quiet, the warriors assembled together in battle units, ready to be summoned.
Next it was Tom’s turn.
He stepped from the boat and stationed himself between Porter and Willa. Ahead of him loomed an enormous wooden gate, a medieval-style protection against invaders. Flanking the gates were miles of sheer rock walls that encircled the heart of Divino, Keegan’s central domain. A guarded tower at the top of the structure controlled the opening and closing of the gate. During daylight hours, Letters of Passage permitted select citizens to pass through the gates. At night, all traffic was forbidden. The gate was locked.
It was Tom’s job to open the gate.
He surveyed the tower. Roughly three stories tall, but manageable. Enough footholds for him to gain the top without any trouble. It wasn’t the climb that worried him, but what he would find inside. Keegan’s Watch. The question was, how many sentries would he face?
Porter said, “I’ll come with you.”
Tom gave a quick shake of his head. In the first place, he was a much better climber than Porter. More experienced, faster. Secondly, if something did happen to Tom and he wasn’t able to overcome Keegan’s sentries and open the gates, Porter and the Djembe warriors would have no choice but to scale the walls and take Keegan's guard by force. It would be up to Porter to lead that charge.
“Remember the plan,” Porter said. “Open the gates and come back to the boat. Smudge will wait here with Hyster. We can’t let her fall into Keegan’s hands. No matter what happens, stay with the boat. Willa and I will rejoin you here. Let the Djembe do the fighting.”
“Yes. We’ve been over it.”
“Good. Now take this.” Porter passed his dagger to Tom.
Tom hesitated, then tucked his brother’s weapon into his belt.
Porter glanced at Hyster. At the moment the dragon, evidently exhausted from her flight, was curled up softly snoring, her head in Smudge’s lap. “It’s too bad—” he began, then stopped abruptly.
The words weren’t necessary. Tom knew what he meant. It was too bad Hyster wasn’t a true dragon, one who would fly into Divino in a blaze of glory, spewing fire and fury and taking The Watch by storm. The beast of legend. The beast that would end Keegan’s reign forever. Obviously that wasn’t meant to be.
“Give us one hour,” he said to Tom. “If we don’t come back, flee. Send Hyster and Smudge back to Rupert. The creature can hide in the swamp until…”
Their eyes met as his words died out. Until what? This was it. Their one chance. The fate of the Five Kingdoms rested on what happened next.
Porter cleared his throat and continued, “If we don’t return, save yourself. Go back to the Other Side while you still can. You should be safe there.”
Tom’s stomach clenched, but he gave a curt nod. “Understood.”
He moved to go, but Willa stopped him. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed a small kiss against his cheek. “Good luck.”
Tom’s heart knocked against his chest, then began beating at three times its normal rate—whether from the unexpected kiss or the reality of what he was about to undertake, he couldn’t say. He gave a quick nod, ruffled Smudge’s hair, and was off.
Chapter Twenty-Two
STORMING THE GATES
The moon hung full and heavy in the night sky. Bright. Dangerously bright. Crouching low, he raced from the cover of trees until he was nearly at the tower base. A strong gust of wind whipped past him. He waited a beat until the next breeze blew a cloud over the surface of the moon. Then, temporarily cloaked by blackness, he darted to the tower wall.
He reached the base and shot straight upward, faster than he’d ever climbed, scaling the tower without difficulty. Once at the top, he peered through an open slit in the rock wall and looked into the guardroom. Three shadowy forms moved within, their tall black boots clicking against the cold stone floor, the red eyes clasped at the shoulder of their capes floating eerily in the darkness. The Watch.
The room was roughly the size of the bell tower at Lost Academy. Same dimensions, same height, same cover of darkness. Then he’d faced two members of The Watch and had failed miserably. Now he faced three. But this time, he was prepared.
At least he hoped.
He scan
ned the room. His gaze fell on a long wooden lever projecting from an opening in the floor. The mechanism used to open the gates. Gripping Porter’s dagger between his teeth, he thrust himself feet-first through the opening in the wall and slammed the nearest sentry in the back. The sentry pitched forward. His head hit the wall with an audible crack. He collapsed to the floor, his black cape puddled around him.
Tom tucked the blade into his belt and shot across the room while the element of surprise was still in his favor. He lunged for the wooden lever. But the sentries were too seasoned to be caught off-guard for long. One sentry spun around, bringing up his arm to smash against Tom’s chest. It caught him mid-stride, knocking his feet out from under him and sending him slamming to the floor.
The sentry swung his boot, intending to drive it into Tom’s face. Tom rolled right. He caught the boot in his shoulder blade, rather than his cheek. Stumbling to his feet, he drew Porter’s dagger. The sentry didn’t hesitate. He swung his sword, knocking the weapon from Tom’s hand as if it were no more than a toy. It skittered across the floor out of reach.
Tom backed up a step, his gaze darting from the two remaining sentries to the wooden lever. He calculated his chances. One flying leap. He might have a chance to reach it. Reading his intent, the men shifted, putting themselves between him and the lever.
Tom took a step backward, then whirled around toward the window through which he’d entered, as though giving up and fleeing. The sentries lunged for him, as he’d hoped they would. He swung around with Willa’s bolas in his hand, which he flung directly at the lead sentry. The weapon caught the man around the throat and wrapped tight. The man’s eyes bulged as he stumbled backward, clawing at the bola to drag it free and draw breath. But in his panic he stumbled too far backward and tumbled through one of the tower’s open archways, plummeting to the ground.
The body landed on the stretch of ground occupied by the Djembe, Tom noted, rather than Keegan’s Watch. A lucky break.
Racing With Dragons: The Mapmaker's Sons, Book 1 Page 17
