Dragon Slayers

by Lisa McMann

  Fifer showed the note to Dev. “Does that look right? It’s time to send it.”

  Dev read it. “Just like we talked about.” He scrutinized it again. “Yes, it’s good. She’s going to ask why Thisbe would join the Revinir when she knows the two of them can’t take control of things due to the rules.”

  “Exactly,” said Fifer, looking up at Dev. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Ready?”

  “Whenever you are,” said Dev.

  Fifer replaced the pencil and rolled up the note, then concentrated on Florence. A moment later the component flew from Fifer’s hand, down the staircase, and out across the yard. It went due east, leaving a tiny trail of smoke behind it that soon disappeared. The risky plan was in motion. Time would tell whether they were ready for the consequences.

  “Well,” said Dev after a moment. “That’s done. Ready to call in the birds?”

  Fifer nodded. “Since we’re not sure how long it’ll take them to get here, I think we should do it now.” She let out a shrill whistle that nearly pierced Dev’s ears. “Let’s go outside near the orchard. That’ll be a good place for them to roost.”

  The two friends went down to the yard. It was strange to have one of the dragons missing, leaving a long gap almost big enough to make a run for it. They both noticed it and looked at each other, but neither said it. It wasn’t needed. There was nowhere to escape to. Every civilized place available would be too difficult to navigate. And it would take only a few steps or wing flaps for a dragon to catch up to them.

  They sat on the grass and waited. The last time Fifer had seen the birds was right after the Revinir had abducted her and Thisbe. The dragon-woman had tragically killed several of them, and Fifer had ordered the rest to retreat. They were magical, so there was a chance they could travel much faster than normal birds. And sometimes they followed her, but she hadn’t seen so much as a single red-and-purple feather since they’d retreated, so she assumed they were still in Artimé, waiting for their next command. Fifer hoped they were able to hear her whistle from this far away. They hadn’t failed her yet.

  After a while a glowing ball of light came zooming past the dragons and stopped in front of Fifer. She reached for it, and it melted into a note in her hand.

  Dear Fifer,

  What? How? Doesn’t Thisbe understand that without support from the dragons and the black-eyed people, they can’t rule anything? This is madness! Something sounds fishy.

  I’m coming with a small contingent. Stay safe.

  Florence

  Fifer grimaced. “Yikes. She doesn’t believe it.”

  “We expected that,” Dev pointed out. “Now you respond.”

  Fifer took the pencil and added on to the conversation.

  Florence,

  Thank goodness you’re coming. Yes, Thisbe knows that. But she took a hard fall early on and has been a bit out of sorts ever since, talking about being more evil than good. Then she mumbled something yesterday about there being another way…. I didn’t know what she meant by that until she disappeared with one of the Revinir’s dragons. I’m afraid she has something sinister in mind. I’m sick about it—this isn’t the Thisbe everyone knows.

  Fifer

  She sent it. Then she sighed deeply and looked at Dev. “Tell me this is going to work.”

  Dev held her gaze. And though his face remained troubled, he answered, “It will.”

  While they waited for the birds, both of them a little on edge, Fifer studied Dev. He’d seemed especially moody since Thisbe had left. Dev didn’t notice her—he was staring at the nearest dragon, the one at the back corner where the orchard met the river. He could feel his scales rise as he brought heat and fire to his throat and let it simmer there. After a minute he made a low growling sound.

  Fifer grew alarmed. “Was that you?”

  Dev nodded, not wanting to speak as he tried to make the roar come out louder and more forcefully. All the while he watched the dragon. It was hard to roar like a dragon without feeling ridiculous. He wasn’t sure how to get the grisly roll of sounds to build and expand in his chest rather than in his throat.

  He tried again, and it came out a little louder. The dragon didn’t seem to notice. Then Dev got to his feet. He jogged in place for a minute, then swung his arms wide to open his chest. Fifer watched him, half-intrigued and half-amused. What was he trying to do?

  Dev took in a deep breath and held it while he brought the fire back up to boil in his throat. Then he flung his arms back and opened his mouth, letting out a mighty roar that surprised both of them.

  It surprised the dragons, too. The nearest one started toward them.

  “What are you doing?” Fifer whispered harshly. When the dragon kept coming, Fifer got up and started dragging Dev to the palace.

  Dev pulled his arm away. “Watch,” he whispered. “Let’s see what happens.”

  “What did you say to it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Fifer watched as the dragon continued toward them. “This is a bad idea, Dev,” Fifer said. “It’s not part of our plan.”

  “I know, but it could make the plan better.”

  The dragon let out a roar of her own. Dev’s eyes widened. He roared back, and the dragon stopped and stared at the two of them. Then she opened her mouth and sprayed a line of fire at the grass in front of them, scorching it.

  “Dev!” said Fifer, abandoning him and making a run for the palace. “Please don’t mess up everything!”

  Dev glanced after her, then looked back at the dragon. He couldn’t tell if the creature was angry or if it was ready to obey, like the one at the front corner had done when Thisbe had roared. But he didn’t want to mess up everything, like Fifer had said—especially not if it would put Thisbe in danger. So he went after Fifer, waving off the dragon in case that would help end whatever it was that was happening. He could try again another time. But it was good to know he could roar like Thisbe.

  Back in the library, Fifer was mad. Between huffs from the speedy climb up the stairs, she said, “You could have gotten us killed.”

  “They’re not going to kill us,” said Dev, breathing hard too. “You, especially. And they don’t seem bothered by me, either. They haven’t been ordered to kill. That’s obvious by now. At least not while we stay on the property.”

  “But there’s no reason for you to call them to us,” said Fifer. “We don’t want to go to the castle like Thisbe did, and you definitely don’t want these dragons to tell the Revinir that you’re alive.” She lowered her voice. “That was really reckless. Just because they haven’t hurt us yet doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. They’re dragons.”

  Dev frowned, then conceded the point. “I’m sorry. I just wondered if they’d listen to me if I roared like Thisbe did. I was thinking maybe we can command them to do other things.”

  Fifer tipped her head thoughtfully. “I doubt that. They’re under the Revinir’s control. Not ours.”

  “But Thisbe did it, so why can’t I? I have scales and black eyes, and I managed to roar. What other dragon qualities does Thisbe possess that I don’t? I was just trying it out.”

  Fifer considered it. “That’s a good point,” she admitted. “Maybe we can use them somehow. What if… what if all the black-eyed people who have taken in the dragon-bone broth can affect the mind-controlled dragons in some way? That would be phenomenal! What a breakthrough—and the Revinir probably doesn’t know.”

  “I wish I knew if Thisbe had just roared at that dragon randomly, or if she felt like she was saying something to it.” Dev turned to ponder it and spotted movement out the front window. He rushed over to get a better look. “Something’s coming,” he said, his voice strained. He could see several dots heading their way.

  “Are they dragons?” asked Fifer. She moved to stand next to Dev and peered out. “Is it Thisbe? Or the Revinir?”

  After a strained moment, Dev shook his head. He turned and looked at Fifer, who was as close to him as she’d ever
been, barring their hug on the stairs when Dev had found them in his library. Something in his stomach flipped, and he caught his breath. “It’s your birds,” he said. “They’re on the way. I nearly forgot.”

  “Oh, of course,” Fifer said. “That’s a relief.”

  They watched them coming in and realized they were carrying the hammock, like usual. As they approached, the front dragon turned his head sharply. He stood up and faced them, as if he found their approach threatening in some way. And then, as Shimmer and the rest of the birds came swooping down over the dragon toward the palace, the fire-breathing creature let out a mighty roar, throwing flames from his mouth a hundred feet into the air.

  “What? No!” Fifer screamed. She gripped Dev’s forearm. “Stop! Oh no!”

  But the billowing flame caught the flock and the canvas hammock as if they were made of tinder. Everything went up in a cloud of smoke.

  When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of them.

  Things Get Real

  Fifer stared in horror. Then she turned and ran across the library to the stairs and started down. “No!” she yelled again. “My birds!”

  Dev started after her. “Where are you going? Wait!”

  Fifer kept moving.

  “Fifer!” Dev shouted. He tried to catch her, but she was too fast. “Fifer, stop! There’s nothing you can do! The dragons—”

  Fifer couldn’t think straight. How could this have happened? The property was filled with birds, and the dragons had never done anything to them. She’d never seen the dragons even pay attention to them. And now all of her precious birds were dead. Shimmer… She stopped at the bottom of the spiral staircase, sending the foxes running. Shimmer was dead too.

  The dragons had done nothing to the foxes. They’d never gone after a bird. Was it the hammock that had spooked the dragon? Did they suspect these birds were more than just casual neighbors on this property?

  Dev caught up and stopped behind Fifer, breathing hard from the chase. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  Fifer was so angry she couldn’t begin to cry. She wanted to murder the dragon for what he’d done. She covered her face, shocked by her own violent reaction. But it was true that Fifer was a killer now, after taking down Frieda Stubbs. She looked up. “I’m so furious!” she screamed, more at the dragons than in response to Dev’s question. “Augh!”

  Dev stayed back. His face wrinkled up in angst. What could he do besides being angry too? Dev loved animals. He’d spent much of his time in the forest. He cared for the foxes as if they were his charges. He could only imagine the pain Fifer must be going through. He knew the birds were more than just a means of transportation for her.

  Fifer moved to the doorway, scowling at the dragon who’d killed her flock. She was glad that Dev had come after her, because she might have kept going straight to the dragon to attack him. But that wasn’t safe, especially now that the dragon was riled up. And while she’d known never to trust one of the Revinir’s dragons, she and Dev and Thisbe had grown lax about them being here since they could roam freely within the perimeter of the property.

  “You killed my birds!” she screamed at the dragon.

  The red creature was not impressed by her shouts and didn’t seem to notice how upset Fifer was. Fifer gripped her hair and tugged at it in frustration. She whirled around to look at Dev on the bottom step. “I can’t believe I’ve lost them all,” she said, softer now. “They died because of me.” Her face fell. She wasn’t able to unsee the fiery disaster, and it went through her mind over and over. Her shoulders slumped. She pushed her hair back, and a tear slipped down.

  Dev had noticed that Fifer wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of person. She didn’t seem to like giving hugs unless she really knew and liked a person. But he was at a loss for what else to do. And now her bottom lip was quivering. “I’m sorry, Fifer,” he said. “Do you… do you want a hug? Or… anything?”

  Fifer’s lip kept quivering. She nodded and dropped her hand from her face.

  Dev stepped down off the stair, went to her, and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed.

  They stood there for a long moment, intertwined, until Fifer’s sobs stopped. She pulled away, and Dev hastily let go and shoved his hands into his skirt pockets. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Thanks,” said Fifer, sniffing and looking up at him. “Yes. Thank you.”

  He pulled a wadded-up handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she held on to it and stared at it, not sure what to do. “I’ll… go wash this now.”

  “It’s okay,” said Dev weakly, even though he really didn’t want it back in its present condition. “You can keep it. There are more upstairs.”

  “I—thank you.” Fifer shoved the handkerchief into her pocket and wiped her hands on her pants. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t believe what the dragon had done. “I’ll meet you upstairs,” she told Dev.

  Dev narrowed his eyes. “Um…”

  “I won’t do anything crazy,” she said. “I just need a minute. I’m going to the water pump. That’s it.”

  Dev smiled grimly, and as Fifer slipped out the doorway, he turned and started back up the stairs. As he went, his mind began to whirl with questions. What did it mean that the dragon had attacked Fifer’s birds? Had he seen them as threatening? Or had the Revinir given them very specific instructions on who or what to attack?

  * * *

  When Fifer came back to the library, she hung out the freshly washed handkerchief over the railing to dry. Then she turned to Dev and said clinically, “This new development throws a wrench into things.”

  “Right,” said Dev. “We just lost a means of transportation.”

  “More than that,” said Fifer. “We assumed since you managed to walk onto the property without the dragons harming you, anyone could come in without a problem—that the dragons are only here to prevent Thisbe and me from leaving. But now… I’m not exactly sure what to think. Did the Revinir program the dragons to attack anything from the air?”

  “That doesn’t make sense. There are birds all around that fly in and out as they please.”

  “So was it the hammock?”

  “Maybe,” said Dev.

  “Or maybe the Revinir gave specific instructions and descriptions of all of our friends and allies,” said Fifer. “In which case we are totally—”

  “Oh no,” said Dev, turning sharply. “What about Florence? Your team! They’re coming here. You have to warn them.”

  “I hope Florence writes me back soon,” said Fifer gravely. “Because I only have one send spell left.”

  They Meet Again

  The red dragon Thisbe was riding reached the castle and landed near the moat. Thisbe’s scales rose and stayed up, and she could feel the Revinir’s presence in the air. Familiar guards stood at attention on either side of the drawbridge. When they saw who had arrived, one of them hurried inside. Thisbe remained on the dragon’s back for a moment, steeling herself for what was to come. She was in character. Playing a role. She was about to fake joining forces with the most evil thing their worlds had ever known. And part of her…

  She tamped down the thought.

  But seriously, part of her…

  She wrestled with her feelings.

  Because part of her… was excited about it.

  She liked the risk. She liked the power. She liked that there was no one else the Revinir wanted to work with. It was Thisbe or nobody. That gave her a rush. It was scary to think that way, but Thisbe liked that aspect of it too. A thrill. Who didn’t like a thrill?

  But she was scared, too. More scared than she’d ever been before, outside of the first time she’d met the Revinir. Back then she’d been taken from the auction block, dragged into the catacombs, and locked inside a cell full of dragon bones. Later she’d been branded—a signature move by the Revinir, who’d done a few similar
things when she’d been Queen Eagala in Warbler. At least now Thisbe thought the Revinir might treat her properly, especially since she wanted something from her. She could always walk away, she told herself. Though… she grimaced to imagine it. What would the Revinir do? Just let her go? Hardly.

  Last night she’d surprised herself by communicating with the red dragon through roaring, and she wanted to try that again. She let a soft rumble percolate in her throat, trying to project to the dragon to put his wing out so she could disembark. She let the growl grow and made it more urgent sounding. Eventually the dragon paid attention and let his wing unfurl. She slid down over the webbing to the ground, landing with a hop. Then she straightened her component vest and walked across the drawbridge toward the huge castle entrance.

  The giant entry room had been cleaned up and repaired after the fire. There was still a mild smoky smell, enough to make Thisbe’s sinuses sting. She moved inside, remembering all the times she’d come through here before. She was at her most confident this time, which was saying something. But she had to be, for that was the kind of character she needed to play in order to beat the Revinir at her own game. She walked with an air of ownership, letting her boots click loudly on the green malachite floor and coming to a stop in the center of the grand vestibule. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  It didn’t take long for a servant to come toward her. “Come with me,” the man said. His eyes were glazed over. Remembering that the Revinir had probably drugged hundreds of people of Grimere with the dragon-bone broth was depressing. It made everything just that much harder. Would the antidote of ancestor broth work on them? Or did that only work on the black-eyed people? They’d have to figure out what to do with them, too. Would the mind control break automatically once Thisbe took the Revinir out?

  She was getting ahead of herself. One thing at a time. Thisbe followed the man, enjoying the echo of her footsteps. Imagining the Revinir hearing her coming. What was in store for Thisbe? She had no idea. She’d imagined several scenarios but didn’t want to spend too much time on them. She wanted to experience this without rehearsing any specific reactions—she’d be more authentic that way. More believable.