Master of the Phantom Isle

by Brandon Mull

  Doren scratched his sideburn. “I probably could retrace our route. I don’t know, Poza. Would you trust your life to me?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What about the life of little Tess?” Doren said.

  The fairy glanced at Tess, then tossed up her arms in defeat. “Fine, I’ll stay. Don’t take too long. I will not be assisting with the horses.”

  “Thank you,” Tess said. She patted her horse, staring at the considerable drop to the ground. “How do I get down?”

  Doren helped Tess out of the saddle.

  “Where do I tie up the horses?” Doren asked.

  “No need,” Eve said. “We train our horses well. Come help us open these doors.”

  Doren walked over to the cellar doors. A pair of nearby stones had writing etched on them in both recognizable characters and mysterious glyphs. “The languages I can read say ‘Welcome,’” he said. “Anything else?”

  “I see the same,” Eve said.

  “What kind of dragon puts ‘Welcome’ on the door?” Doren asked.

  “A nice one?” Tess asked.

  “I get wary when something that could eat me wants company,” Doren said. He bent down, grabbed a door handle, then paused. “Do we know what’s behind here?”

  “The way to the dragon,” Tess said.

  “Do you suppose this door is within his view?” Doren asked.

  “I’ve never been here before,” Eve said.

  Taking a step back, Doren spat on his hands and rubbed them together. “I guess we’re about to find out.” He bent forward and heaved open one of the doors. A long, straight stairway stretched down into darkness.

  “No dragon yet,” Tess said, sounding a bit disappointed.

  “Foreboding nonetheless,” Doren said. “I wish you well. Keep that cloak handy.”

  “Come on,” Eve said, after lighting a small lantern with a match. She took Tess by the hand and started down the stairs.

  “See you soon, Poza,” Tess said. “You too, Doren.”

  The satyr gave her a nod and a wave. “Maybe don’t mention my name. I don’t want to be overly known in dragon circles.” The fairy flitted out of view as the door closed.

  “I’m glad you brought a light,” Tess said as they descended the stairs.

  “Wouldn’t be very smart to visit a dragon lair without one,” Eve replied. “This should have enough oil to last a couple of hours.”

  “The steps look like they go down forever,” Tess said.

  “It’s the longest stairway I’ve seen,” Eve said.

  Glancing back at intervals, Tess noticed when the doors to the surface receded into shadow. “We’re going deep underground.”

  “Are you getting nervous?” Eve asked.

  Tess looked ahead at the stairs descending into darkness beyond the lantern light. “A little.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Eve said. “I don’t freeze in front of dragons. If you do, I can drag you out of there.”

  “I don’t think I’ll freeze up if it’s a nice dragon,” Tess said. “My legs might get tired on the way, though.”

  “Just don’t trip,” Eve said. “A fall down a stone staircase this long would break just about every bone you have.”

  Tess took extra care with the steps from that point downward. She was beginning to despair that the stairs would go on endlessly when a level place came into view.

  “Finally,” Eve said.

  “I wonder how much farther to the dragon?” Tess asked.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  Beyond the stairs they followed a rounded tunnel to a heavy oaken door. “Should we knock?” Tess asked.

  “We’ve come this far without permission,” Eve said.

  “It said ‘Welcome’ up top.”

  “True. Ready?”

  Tess felt nervous and excited. “Do you think this is where the dragon is?”

  “Could be more stairs,” Eve said. “Or another hallway.”

  Eve opened the door, and they passed into a vast cavern. It took Tess a moment to spot the dragon’s enormous shape, filling much of the room, but half-buried in stone rubble. For a moment she thought it might be a statue because the hide seemed so rocky. Then the craggy head raised up and swiveled in her direction, scattering masonry and flinging dust into the air.

  “Two young girls,” the dragon said in a startlingly genteel baritone. “After years with no outside contact besides the ogres bringing food, I am getting the oddest visitors of late.”

  Tess gave a little curtsy. “I’m Tess. This is Eve. I’m friends with the fairies. We heard you’re a nice dragon.”

  The dragon shuddered and seemed to cough, making boulders shift and more dust take flight. “Is that the new reputation for Dromadus the Terrible?”

  “Were you called that?” Tess asked.

  “I have been called many things,” Dromadus said. “Never nice.”

  “We heard you are a pacifist,” Eve soothed.

  “And who are you?” Dromadus asked.

  “Eve of the Fair Folk,” Eve said.

  “The other girl is mortal,” Dromadus said.

  Tess raised a hand. “Tess.”

  “Tess is fairystruck but mortal,” Dromadus said. “And cloaked by innocence.”

  “I believe so,” Eve said.

  “We know you could probably still eat us if you wanted,” Tess said.

  “A prudent thing to know,” Dromadus said. “Yet do not underestimate the power of innocence. Many of the maladies that ruin the wise can be utterly confounded by innocence.”

  “Really?” Tess asked.

  “Innocence has a difficult time appreciating itself,” Dromadus said. “Though it has certain vulnerabilities, once lost, true innocence can never be regained. Anything both powerful and irrecoverable is most precious.”

  Tess gripped her cloak tightly. “I’ll be careful.”

  The dragon coughed lightly.

  “Are you laughing?” Eve asked.

  “That would be a rarity,” Dromadus said. “Where did you hear I was a nice pacifist? Kendra and Seth, I suppose?”

  Worried about getting her cousins in trouble, Tess looked to Eve.

  “Seth told me a little about you,” Eve said. “He never called you nice. Everyone knows that no dragon is safe, even a peaceful one.”

  “Try not to spread any gossip about my gentle side,” Dromadus said. “Too many fools at Wyrmroost might take that for weakness. Some could get hurt.”

  “I won’t spread it,” Eve said.

  “Me neither,” Tess promised.

  “Tell me, what brings you here today?” Dromadus asked. “Or did you simply hope to witness the peaceful dragon?”

  “That was part of it,” Tess said.

  “We’re also hoping you can help us,” Eve said. “The dragons declared war.”

  “I’m aware,” Dromadus said.

  “It was unprovoked,” Eve said.

  “Many of the dragons in sanctuaries around the world consider themselves captives,” Dromadus said.

  “Dragons went to the sanctuaries by treaty,” Eve said. “It was part of the terms of their surrender.”

  “Many dragons born inside the sanctuaries never agreed to such terms,” Dromadus replied. “The war against the dragons occurred centuries ago. Defeated nations often regroup and fight again after time goes by. The dragons have old grievances to settle.”

  “Dragons have been treated well in the sanctuaries,” Eve insisted.

  Dromadus yawned. “Dragons never belonged in close proximity to one another. By nature we are solitary.”

  “Then why do they have a king?” Tess asked.

  “Dragons have always established dominance,” Dromadus said. “But the king never really acted like a true leader
until dragons began to be hunted and killed. As the fight against dragons swelled into a war, we needed to organize ourselves. A real king was required.”

  “Is a king needed now?” Tess asked.

  “To mount a war?” Dromadus said. “Yes, if that is what the dragons want. But dragons residing in a castle? That is a ridiculous imitation of humanity. We do not belong in colonies except in emergencies.”

  “The dragons are causing the emergency,” Eve said. “They have received humane treatment.”

  “You fail to understand dragons,” Dromadus said. “We have a strong need for independence.”

  “They have plenty of room at Wyrmroost to be independent,” Eve said.

  “Knowing there are boundaries decreases the feeling of independence,” Dromadus said. “Boundaries imposed by defeat are even worse.”

  “If the dragons wage another war, they could destroy themselves,” Eve said.

  “Or they will destroy everybody else,” Tess said.

  Dromadus sighed. “That gets closer to the crux of the problem.”

  “Then you’ll help us?” Eve asked.

  “I can’t solve the problem,” Dromadus said.

  “You could try,” Tess said. “We’re trying.”

  “She doesn’t mean to be presumptuous,” Eve said.

  “I like her sincerity,” Dromadus said. “I no longer fear honesty. I have learned that anything important accomplished through dishonest means eventually unravels. Facing unpleasant truths protects us from building on faulty foundations.”

  “Can you help us?” Eve asked.

  Craning his stony neck, the dragon looked around, sniffing the dusty air. “I deliberately trapped myself in here, never to emerge, never to influence outside matters again. That intent has wavered of late. This is the danger of conversing with mortals.”

  “Danger?” Tess asked. “Are you afraid of us?”

  “Any wise creature of magic would be,” Dromadus said.

  “But you’re so big,” Tess said.

  “I could try to rely on my size and strength,” Dromadus said. “I did for years. And I was a fool. I harmed and destroyed many I claimed to love. You are very dangerous, little one.”

  “Why?” Tess asked.

  “There is a divide between the magical world and the mortal world,” Dromadus said.

  “My brother couldn’t see the fairies until he drank the milk,” Tess said.

  “Very good,” Dromadus said. “That is evidence of the divide. Magic is not for mortals. It is not inherent to their natures.”

  “But I can see fairies without milk,” Tess said.

  “Mortals can derive magic from magical sources. Some fairies took a liking to you and shared their powers. They changed you. But I wonder if they are aware that you also changed them?”

  “Did I change them?”

  “Just as magic is not for mortals, mortality is not for magical beings,” Dromadus said. “Those of an eternal nature do not change. We magical beings are nearly eternal, and so change comes slowly if at all. To many of us, change is a type of magic we do not understand.”

  “I change all the time,” Tess said.

  “I expect you do,” Dromadus said. “Such change feels as foreign to me as magic seems to you. Fairies do not typically appreciate mortals. They do not willingly reveal themselves to mortals. If fairies learned to like you, they have been changed in the process.”

  “That’s a good change,” Tess said.

  “It depends on your perspective,” Dromadus said. “If those fairies get too friendly with mortals, they could get killed or trapped. They could get changed into imps. I noticed a satyr with you as you approached.”

  “How did you know?” Tess asked.

  “I have ways,” Dromadus said. “He was riding a horse.”

  “He is helping us,” Tess said.

  “But satyrs don’t typically help anyone,” Eve said with interest.

  “How long have you known that satyr?” Dromadus asked.

  “Not long,” Tess said. “A few days.”

  “Does the satyr know other mortals?” Dromadus asked.

  “He is friends with Seth,” Tess said.

  “And that is how a satyr ends up riding a horse,” Dromadus said. “And helping humans, instead of indulging his own capricious interests.”

  “Because he is friends with Seth?” Tess asked.

  “Probably,” Dromadus said. “Any relationship with a mortal exerts influence. The divide becomes even more starkly evident with love. A romance between a magical being and a mortal is ultimately incompatible and ill-fated unless one joins the realm of the other.”

  “I have heard stories,” Eve said.

  “They tend to be tragic,” Dromadus replied.

  “You claimed Tess is dangerous to you,” Eve said.

  “Her cousins are too,” Dromadus said. “No matter how wise or powerful you are, no matter how fixed in your determinations, if you bring mortals around, you invite change. Think about yourself, Fair One. How long have you dreamed of an adventure like this?”

  “All my life,” Eve said. “That has been constant.”

  “Did you actually embark before or after interacting with mortals?”

  Eve paused. “Wow. After.”

  “You begin to glimpse my peril,” Dromadus said.

  “You want to help us?” Tess asked.

  The dragon’s head swooped in close, staring with black eyes. “I never wanted to help mortals. I had vowed not to interact with the external world again. But when I met Seth and Kendra, the seeds of conflict were planted within me.”

  “What conflict?” Eve asked.

  “I do not agree with this war,” Dromadus said quietly. “I can see why the dragons feel it will benefit them. I can see why they suppose this war could right old wrongs and tear down boundaries and increase freedom. But I believe their aggression is wrong.”

  “Then you’ll help us?” Tess asked.

  “I want to deny you,” Dromadus said. “I fear where this could end. But I will give you a bit of information that could help. If you appreciate the assistance, please do not make your source public.”

  “What do you know?” Eve asked.

  “You must hasten to Blackwell Keep,” Dromadus said. “Warn them that the dragons have an attack planned for tomorrow night. An attack they expect to succeed.”

  “How?” Eve asked. “Blackwell Keep is secure now.”

  “I truly have no more details,” Dromadus said. “But Celebrant is no fool.”

  “Can’t you come with us?” Tess asked.

  “The aid I can offer is limited,” Dromadus said. “But I can watch you, and maybe share information again, if you trust me.”

  “How would you send information?” Tess asked.

  “Through trusted messengers, perhaps,” Dromadus said. “I make no promises.”

  “How will you watch us?” Tess asked.

  The head of the dragon swiveled away and rummaged in a rock pile. When the head returned, Dromadus opened his jaws and placed a jewel at her feet. “Take the sapphire. If you keep it with you, I will be able to see you.”

  “Careful,” Eve said. “You’ll be letting a dragon peer into Blackwell Keep.”

  Tess picked up the stone and held it up with the light of the lantern behind it, enjoying how the facets gleamed. “He’s a peaceful dragon. And he is helping us.” She put the sapphire in her pocket.

  “I hope so,” Eve muttered.

  “Hasten to the keep,” Dromadus said. “I do not know whether there is time to upset Celebrant’s plan. The sooner you arrive, the better.”

  “We should go,” Eve said.

  “Wait, he gave me a present,” Tess said. Facing the dragon, she dug into her pocket and pulled out a yo-yo. “A satyr g
ave this to me. It’s a yo-yo.” She set it on the ground.

  “Thank you, child,” Dromadus said.

  “Tess,” she reminded the dragon, backing to the door.

  “Thank you, Tess,” Dromadus said. “Travel swiftly and safely. Keep the cloak of innocence ever with you.”

  Eve took Tess by the hand and hurried her along.

  “’Bye, Dromadus,” Tess said. “Thanks for the tip.”

  Out behind the Blackwell Keep stable, Knox chucked a dirt clod at the wall, where it exploded in a puff of dust. He crouched to tear another clump from a chunky dirt pile, but the selected piece crumbled in his hand. Trying a different part of the pile, he dislodged a clod that held together.

  Seth had been taken by enemies and Knox could only blame himself. His insides constricted at the thought. He winged the dirt clod sidearm as hard as he could. The chunk burst into dust, leaving a little patch of dirt on the wall to commemorate the impact.

  Knox had enjoyed the feast at Stormguard Castle. Many official, fancy people had treated him like a celebrity. The food had been plentiful and delicious. When he had departed the castle, Knox had not worried that the praise might have been somewhat exaggerated. After all, he had taken a risk by going to Stormguard Castle, he had been part of the team that broke the curse, and if Seth and Kendra went off someplace else before the feast, then they chose to miss the victory party.

  Knox heaved a large dirt clump at the wall. It was one thing to accept a little more credit than he really deserved. It was another to learn he was the cause of Seth getting kidnapped. His cousin was in the hands of evil people because Knox had left the dungeon keys with the goblins back at Fablehaven.

  Now every word of praise came back to him like a hot knife. Every delicious bite of food seemed poisonous. Stan and some of the others had reminded Knox that his involvement had been indirect—evil people had carried out the plan, not him. But at the very least Knox knew he was like a guard who had fallen asleep on duty and let the enemy harm his allies. No, worse: he was a clumsy outsider who had sidetracked the guards—with disastrous consequences.

  Knox threw another hunk of dirt. And another. It made him sick to think that while he had feasted and laughed and bragged, his cousin who had actually saved the day was in the hands of the bad guys, probably getting tortured.