by Amie Kaufman
“We did this,” he said quietly to his sister.
She looked across at him. “We didn’t mean to,” she replied.
But the defiance in her tone was mingled with something else that told him she was feeling the same way he was.
“We were trying to stop them killing the dragons,” Rayna said. “And we did.”
As if her words had summoned one of those very dragons, a shadow passed over them and glided on, seeming to jump this way and that as the ground beneath it rose and fell. It was a huge, dark-red dragon, at least fifty feet long. A member of the Dragonmeet, Anders was almost sure.
In the past, there had sometimes been rumors of dragons over Holbard, whispers or scary stories, and in his time at Ulfar he’d seen a dragon spy transform and flee for her life, but he’d never seen a dragon simply brazenly fly over the city in the middle of the day.
As it wheeled back in their direction once more, he and Rayna ducked into the shadow of someone’s house. Broken beams stuck out of it like fingers reaching for the sky, and the twins’ feet were planted firmly on a great spill of dirt and grass where the rooftop meadow above them had tumbled to the ground.
When the shadow moved on, Rayna shifted, ready to step back out into the street, but some instinct made Anders grab her and hold her still. A few moments later a pair of wolves came running past, loping down the street, dodging the debris. One slowed to a trot, then stopped completely. As its companion wheeled around to check on it, the first wolf lifted its head, sniffing the wind.
Panic jolted through Anders. He had been riding a dragon just an hour before. The wolf would smell the dragon on him.
Then a man rose from the shadows. He drew his arm back and let loose a rock, sending it sailing straight at the wolves.
It struck one of them squarely on the haunches, and the wolf skipped away with an angry yelp. But though it snarled at the man and its companion growled, the two of them turned to lope away.
The man spotted Anders and Rayna where they were huddled against the side of the house. Rayna had her mouth open, and Anders was simply staring. All their lives, the Wolf Guard had patrolled Holbard, had protected its citizens and enforced the law. Everybody did what a wolf asked them to do. Anders couldn’t believe he’d just seen someone throw a rock at one.
“They did this,” the man said, pointing after the wolves, his voice quivering with anger. “Them and the dragons. The elementals did this to Holbard. What do they think this place is? Somewhere to play their games? Did they think of us at all? You two should get back to your parents. It’s not safe.”
Anders tried to speak, but he couldn’t make his mouth work. Rayna grabbed ahold of his hand.
“We will,” she promised, already starting to tug him away. But Anders couldn’t shake the man’s words.
Did they think of us at all? he had said.
Anders knew the truth was that most of the elementals never had. Not during the battle, and not before it, and probably not since, except to wonder if the humans would still follow the commands of the wolves. His mood was grim as they set off down the broken street again.
The twins had hoped that the marketplace would be the best place to find food, and when they reached it, Anders was relieved to see that they had been right. Goods were spilling out of ruined and abandoned stalls with nobody to salvage them, and shops had been broken open by the earthquakes.
Anders usually worried about stealing, but this food would go bad before the real owners had the chance to retrieve it.
And, he thought darkly, it’s probably too late to worry about stealing after destroying the city.
There were others picking over the ruins in search of a meal, so the twins hefted the empty bags they’d brought with them and joined the other scavengers.
A little while later, Anders was trying to stuff a wheel of cheese into the too-small opening of his bag when he heard a whisper.
“Psst! Anders!”
He straightened, wary, running his eyes over the ruins and debris around him, trying to find the source of the voice.
A pasty-white face with a shock of black hair was peeking out from behind the jagged half of a wall. Anders recognized the grubby features, but he didn’t know the boy’s name. He was sure he was one of Jerro’s little brothers, though. Jerro was another boy from the streets, and the day Anders had made his transformation, Jerro had helped him escape the wolves by swapping cloaks with him. Anders had repaid the favor ten times over by rescuing Jerro and his brothers from the roof of a burning house during the great fire at the port.
A thought suddenly surfaced to tug at him. Just after they’d escaped the battle, Sakarias had something to tell him about that fire. It was said to be dragonsfire—it looked like dragonsfire—but Anders wasn’t so sure. He made a note to ask Sakarias again.
But just now, Jerro’s brother was staring at him, sizing him up. Anders moved closer, but not too close.
“Where’s Jerro?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “Can we trust you?”
“Of course,” Anders replied.
Everyone looked out for themselves on the streets, but none of them would ever put another in danger.
“You were on wanted posters,” the boy pointed out.
“That has nothing to do with—you can trust us,” Anders insisted. “Are you all right?”
“No,” the boy admitted. “Pellarin’s hurt. We need help.”
Jerro was about the twins’ age, and this boy looked perhaps a year younger, so Pellarin must be the smallest brother.
Anders signaled to Rayna, who was emerging from the ruins of a bakery with a huge fruit tart in her arms. It had about as much chance of fitting into her bag as the cheese wheel had into Anders’s, but it did look delicious. She made her way over to him, and he told her what had happened.
“What’s your name?” she asked the boy.
“Sam,” he replied. “Will you help us?”
“Of course,” she replied simply. “Show us where he is.”
Sam spoke quietly as they made their way to the place he had Pellarin hidden. “We haven’t seen Jerro since the battle,” he said. “He’d gone over to Pila Square to get some scraps from the baker there, and he never came back. We had to leave where we were hiding because the roof fell in, so now he doesn’t know where to look for us.”
Anders’s breath caught uncomfortably in his throat. That was a whole day ago now. Jerro wouldn’t leave his brothers alone that long if he could help it. He’d be searching if he possibly could. So where was he?
Sam had managed to hide his little brother in the stable of an inn, propping him up in a pile of hay. Pellarin was covered in dust, and his leg was carefully positioned on a saddle, bloodied and bruised.
“I’m almost sure it’s broken,” Sam said.
“Hello,” said Pellarin. “Aren’t you criminals?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Rayna told him, her tone deliberately cheerful.
“The leg is getting worse,” Sam said quietly, and Pellarin didn’t deny that.
Anders exchanged a long, long look with his sister. They couldn’t leave the boys here. The code of the street said that you helped each other. Anders would want Jerro’s brothers to help Rayna if she were the one who was hurt. And anyway, he simply couldn’t do it.
A small nod told him that she felt the same way. “We’ll need to make a stretcher,” she said with a sigh.
“Where are you going to take us?” Sam asked.
“To where we’re staying,” Anders replied. “It’s, uh . . . outside the city. We have a medic there, sort of.” He thought of Viktoria, who was at least training to be a medic among the wolves. She had to know more than they did about what to do with Pellarin’s leg.
Rayna gave him a meaningful look and cleared her throat.
“Oh,” said Anders. “Yes. I’m not going to lie, there are dragons where we’re hiding. But—”
He was immediately d
rowned out in a wave of protests from both Sam and Pellarin, who tried to prop himself up on his elbows, then collapsed back, wincing in pain.
“They’re on our side,” Anders said as soon as he could get a word in edgewise. “Trust me. I helped you get out of the fire, didn’t I? I’m not going to lead you into danger now.”
“And what else are you going to do?” Rayna asked. “Stay here?”
Sam studied them for a long moment, worried, and Anders knew he was asking himself what Jerro would do.
But then Pellarin shifted restlessly, wincing again, and the decision was made.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s make that stretcher. And if you’re lying about this, I’ll never forgive you.”
“If we’re lying, you’ll have been eaten by a dragon,” Rayna pointed out. “But you won’t be.”
“What about Jerro?” Pellarin asked. “He might come back, and he won’t know where to find us.”
“We’ll try to look for him,” Rayna assured him, her tone turning serious.
Anders wished things were different, and that she didn’t have to say try.
“We should hurry,” is all he said, “or we’ll miss meeting the others at noon, and we’ll have to carry him all the way to the harnesses by ourselves.”
So while Rayna ran back to the market to finish gathering as much food as she could, promising to stuff the backpacks until they couldn’t take another ounce, Anders and Sam made up a stretcher. They took two brooms and then raided the stable, stringing sets of reins between them to support Pellarin and laying sacks on top of those.
When Rayna returned, she inspected their handiwork and nodded her approval.
“If only the horses themselves had stuck around,” she said. But she helped the boys transfer Pellarin onto the stretcher, and she and Anders took the first turn at carrying him. Sam trailed a few steps behind, clearly still not sure he was making the right decision.
As they turned for the west gate, Anders hoped that Lisabet and Mikkel had found what they needed in the library. Coming here had been a big risk—they couldn’t afford to come back too many times.
They were nearly at the west gate when a big man in a dirty black cloak stepped out to block their way. “What’s in those bags?” he asked roughly.
Behind them, Sam squeaked, and when Anders turned his head, he saw a blond woman with long, curling hair and a dark-blue coat and trousers standing behind them, blocking their way back. Her clothes were fancy—like she’d had money before the city had collapsed.
“It’s none of your business what’s in our bags,” Anders said, his words much braver than he felt. He only hoped his voice sounded steady. “It belongs to us.”
“Where are your parents?” asked the woman. But there was no kindness in her voice—she wasn’t wondering why the children were out alone, or if anyone was taking care of the boy who was so clearly hurt. Anders could tell that as far as she was concerned, the absence of their parents just presented an opportunity.
“They’re not far away,” Rayna replied immediately. “Do you know who this is?” She pointed at Pellarin, whose eyes widened.
“Why should we know who some brat is?” the man asked.
“I thought not,” Rayna said, “or you’d be out of our way already.”
Anders tried to give her a warning look. Rayna was always talking their way out of situations, and sometimes it worked, but sometimes you ended up on the dais in front of half of Holbard, grabbing the Staff of Hadda and turning into a wolf.
But there was no stopping her. “This is the mayor’s son,” she said, “and the mayor is not going to like it if you mess with us getting him to a doctor.”
“Him?” the man said, his voice rich with disbelief.
“Well, he’s not usually so dirty,” Rayna pointed out, exasperated.
Anders looked back at the woman. “If you follow this road,” he said, pointing, “you’ll end up at the market. There’s a lot of food there.”
Go on, he silently urged her. I’m giving you a way to get what you want. Just take it.
The woman paused, then nodded at her partner. “Let’s go,” she said.
The man walked past Anders, Rayna, Sam, and Pellarin on the stretcher. He took his time sauntering, as if to make sure they knew that he could stop if he wanted, that he could do anything that he wanted. He took a good, long look at Pellarin, who closed his eyes.
The wolf in Anders wanted to growl in the back of his throat. But he kept himself quiet.
As soon as the man and the woman were gone, the children hurried on down the uneven road, heading for the gate.
“Come to think of it,” said Rayna, puffing now, “where is the mayor?”
“Out at the camps, probably,” Sam said.
“The camps?” Anders asked.
“They’re outside the city,” Sam supplied, “where nothing can fall off a building and land on top of you. Most people are going there. They’ve gone out the west and northwest gates and they’re sheltering along the banks of the Sudrain River.”
“Have they gone to Upper Vadobrun?” Rayna asked, no doubt imagining the lay of the land from her now-usual view high above it, and thinking of the village to the north of the city.
“Too far,” Sam replied. “That’s nearly a full day’s walk, and it’s too small anyway. Nowhere for us all to fit.”
“But there are still people left in here,” Anders protested. “The mayor can’t just leave, not to a camp and not to a village.”
“Not many people,” said Sam with a shrug, “and they don’t care about people like us. Who’d miss us if we were gone?”
“Us,” said Anders. “We would miss you.”
But he knew that Sam was right. The man who had thrown the rock at the Wolf Guard had been right. The elementals never thought about the people who were caught up in their troubles, just like the people of Holbard had never thought about the street children.
But Anders would. He would help Sam and Pellarin, and he would find Jerro.
He would help everyone.
Somehow.
Chapter Three
IT TOOK MORE THAN A LITTLE WRANGLING TO GET the stretcher suspended underneath Mikkel, but they managed it in the end. When he and Rayna touched down at Cloudhaven with Anders, Lisabet, Sam, and Pellarin, there was a surprise waiting for all of them.
Ellukka and Theo had returned safely from Drekhelm, but they weren’t alone. Waiting with them on the landing pad were three more of the Finskólars. Quiet and thoughtful Bryn, their languages expert—whom Anders had been wishing were here only the night before—was standing beside Ellukka. A little way behind them, staring up at the sky, was the absentminded Isabina, the Finskól’s resident mechanics expert. Waiting with his usual broad grin, his golden curls lit up by the sunset, waving enthusiastically, was Ferdie, who was studying medicine at the Finskól. Or had been studying medicine, perhaps, if he was here. Were the three of them even Finskólars anymore, if they’d left Drekhelm?
“What happened?” asked Anders as he slid down from Rayna’s back. He reached up to help Sam down so they could start pulling off Rayna’s harness. “I mean, it’s good to see you, hello, but also what happened?”
He shot a quick, inquiring glance at Ellukka, though, and she flashed him a smile, confirming it was indeed good news.
When Mikkel and Theo had made their escape from Drekhelm a couple of days before, it had been the Finskólars who had gotten in the way of the Dragonmeet pursuing them. What they hadn’t known at the time was whether their classmates were tripping up the adults and buying the boys time to run for it accidentally or on purpose. The presence of Bryn, Isabina, and Ferdie answered that question now.
“What?” said Ferdie. “You thought that Leif was going to give us all those talks about loyalty and none of them were going to sink in? You’re Finskólars. You need us. We’re here.” He paused, craning his neck to look over at where Lisabet and Theo were carefully unstrapping Pellarin’s stretche
r from Mikkel’s harness. “And I think,” he continued, “I’m needed over there.”
“He’s hurt his leg,” Lisabet called. “Probably broken it.”
Sam and the dragons crowded around to help untie the stretcher and carry it across the landing pad toward the entrance hall. Anders jogged ahead of them, to where the wolves were emerging from the arch. Judging by their expressions, they hadn’t realized that extra dragons were waiting for them outside.
“It’s all right,” he said once he was in earshot. “They’re friends of ours. They can help us. Viktoria, the tall guy over there is Ferdie. He’s studying medicine at the dragons’ Finskól. You and he have a patient waiting.”
Viktoria simply nodded and hurried past him—he didn’t doubt she was suspicious, but a patient was a patient.
They all made their way inside, Viktoria, Sam, Ellukka, and Ferdie carrying Pellarin’s stretcher. A wolf, a human, and two dragons working together—that wasn’t something Anders would have imagined a few days ago.
It was only when they all neared the fireplace that Anders realized there were bags and crates stacked in the shadows beside it.
“We brought supplies,” Bryn said, falling into step with him. She was a full head taller than Anders, and more muscular too, her sleek black hair and light-brown skin showing her ancestors must have come from Ohiro. There was something calm about her presence that he appreciated right now. “Ellukka and Theo said you didn’t have anything,” she continued. “There’s food, bedding, and Ferdie’s medical kit, and Isabina brought a whole lot of tools that . . . well, I don’t know what they’re for. But she seemed confident.” Bryn hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Anders, these wolves—they’re safe, right? Are these the same ones who attacked Drekhelm?”
Anders looked at his packmates, who were matching the dragons, suspicious glance for suspicious glance.
“Yes,” he admitted, “but they’re my classmates. They thought Lisabet and I were being held prisoner.”
He felt just a little tired at the idea of trying yet again to convince the wolves and dragons to trust each other. But then he looked over at where Viktoria and Ferdie were in quick, quiet conversation, leaning over Pellarin and already unpacking Ferdie’s medical supplies, and he felt a small flicker of hope. Perhaps it could be done. Eventually.
