Dragon Slayers

by Lisa McMann

  They went up several flights of stairs—the same ones they’d climbed before when trying to escape the drawbridge fire. Finally they entered the grand ballroom, where many of the king’s old servants had escaped to when the smoke became too thick elsewhere.

  The large doors to the balcony were open wide, and the Revinir was standing with her wings and tail toward Thisbe. A few attendants surrounded her. “Here you are, Revinir,” said the man dully. He left the room, leaving Thisbe standing there.

  Slowly the Revinir backed into the room and turned around. She wore a smug smile, revealing her rows of teeth. Thisbe stood firm.

  “So,” drawled the Revinir, “what brings you here? Have you had enough of the palace already? I was just thinking of paying you a visit.”

  “I’ve come to work with you,” said Thisbe. “On one condition.”

  The Revinir snorted in surprise. Fire flew from her lips. Thisbe let out a warning growl and shot fire back. The attendants ducked.

  “Well!” said the dragon-woman, clearly delighted by the exchange.

  Thisbe glared. “I can leave.”

  The dragon-woman tried to hide her smile, but she wasn’t very good at it. “No, you can’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re here now, and here you shall stay. But let’s talk about your ‘one condition.’ What’s that all about? I’m not sure I like that idea.”

  “If you want me to help you fulfill the deal to make us true rulers of Grimere, you’ll have to do what I ask.”

  The Revinir looked condescendingly down her snout at Thisbe. “You have become so bossy,” she said. “It’s not a pretty look on you.”

  “I’m not here to be pretty. I’m here to rule this world.”

  “Well!” the Revinir said again. She was continuously surprised by Thisbe. Suspicion crept in. “Why? What changed your mind?”

  Thisbe, who was still gauging just how confident and straightforward to be, took a moment to meander to the sideboard where a teapot sat on a silver tray. “The last straw was being stuck at that place, whatever it was. I had plenty of time to think.”

  The Revinir eyed her carefully. “And what has become of your sister?”

  “I left her there. She’s… not exactly on board with my plan.” Thisbe shifted, then turned and folded her arms defiantly. “But then again, you never expected her to go along with this, did you?”

  The dragon-woman turned away and moved through the ballroom, thinking hard. She’d been studying Thisbe. Trying to detect if she was lying to her. She knew the girl had lied to her once before—she’d pretended that the ancestor broth had no effect on her. But since the time in the tower when Dev had revealed the truth, the Revinir had been ruminating over it. And she’d concluded that the reason she’d believed Thisbe so easily, so errantly, was because the girl gave the answer she’d been hoping for. She hadn’t wanted the ancestor broth to affect Thisbe, because it hadn’t affected her. And that was why she’d been so easily swayed that time. But was the girl at it again? She oozed confidence. Is that how someone would act after being stuck in a dilapidated palace for a month, guarded by dragons?

  The Revinir narrowed her eyes at Thisbe. The girl looked healthy enough, though a bit ragged. But she didn’t seem to have a clue where she’d been staying all this time. Or… was she lying about that? Questions pounded her. What had made her come here? “Why haven’t your people come after you?”

  “I told them not to come,” said Thisbe. “In the note I sent after you snatched us up.”

  “Why would you do that? Weren’t you afraid of me?” The dragon-woman seemed offended.

  Thisbe lifted her chin. “Maybe I’d already been thinking about joining you. You’ve asked me enough times, you know. You think it hasn’t been on my mind?”

  “You said the opposite back then,” the Revinir accused.

  “Because Fifer was there. What else could I say?”

  They both fell silent as the Revinir contemplated Thisbe’s story. It was plausible. But was it true? She still wasn’t sure. Finally the Revinir went back to the balcony. “What’s your one condition?” she asked.

  “That you leave the seven islands alone.”

  The Revinir snorted out over the railing. Fire rained down on yard crews below, but she didn’t care. “Of course,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why wouldn’t you want that?” She chuckled long and low. “Oh, my dear girl. There’s no way I’m interested in granting that.”

  “Then I’ll be leaving.” Thisbe turned abruptly and started toward the doors.

  “Stop!” shouted the Revinir.

  “You need this more than I do,” said Thisbe over her shoulder. She didn’t stop.

  “Halt!” the dragon-woman shouted. “I’m not finished with you.”

  Thisbe kept going. “Don’t call your guards, or I’ll never join you in this endeavor. It’s time you treat me like a partner instead of a slave. Where’s my room?”

  “What?”

  “My room. I’m going to let you think about this for the rest of the day. I’m tired from traveling all night on your stinky dragon.”

  The Revinir growled. She hadn’t been pushed around like this since… well, since Marcus and Justine had forced her to stay home when they left for Quill, back when she was a child. And she didn’t like it very much. But she sort of admired it too. She knew she’d seen strength in Thisbe from the very beginning, when she detected that the girl was much more evil than good. She’d chosen her future partner well. And now here the girl was, finally willing to help make the Revinir’s dreams come true, and she was letting her walk away? What was happening?

  “I’ll… find a room for you,” the Revinir said. “Wait here.”

  Thisbe stopped and folded her arms as a smug smile played at her lips. “The best one you have,” she called out. She eyed a guard who stood at a hallway intersection. When the Revinir was out of sight, Thisbe let out a breath of relief. Everything was going smoothly. Her instincts on how to play this seemed to be pretty good—or close enough. She was keeping the Revinir on her toes. That was working. She straightened again and put on an impatient expression.

  A moment later Thisbe could hear the Revinir barking directions to someone. Then the dragon-woman reappeared. “Right this way to your suite,” she said coolly. She turned around, her haunches and tail slamming into the sides of the wide hallway as she navigated the tight space. Little bits of the wall were left crumbling.

  Thisbe followed her to a wing of the castle she hadn’t been in before. Finely appointed, completely empty suites sprouted off from both sides. The Revinir stopped at one. “Here you are. I’ve borrowed a servant from the kitchen who will attend to your needs. She’ll be coming shortly with water and food for you. And she’ll be watching your every move, so don’t be sneaky with your spells.” The dragon-woman couldn’t help but smirk. “You’ll notice I didn’t try to disarm you.”

  “You’ll notice I didn’t try to kill you,” Thisbe retorted.

  “Indeed.” The dragon-woman gave Thisbe a scornful look. “Anything else?”

  “What’s my servant’s name?”

  The Revinir scowled. “How should I know?”

  “That’s going to change.” Thisbe pushed past the dragon-woman into her little apartment. It was well appointed with a sitting room, small kitchen, and bedroom. Doors led from the far wall to a balcony. “That’ll be all for now,” Thisbe called out over her shoulder, and dropped her rucksack on her bed. Then, when the Revinir didn’t leave, Thisbe closed the door in her face. Gently. Because she wasn’t a monster. Yet.

  Stressing Out

  Maybe Florence will respond to your last send message,” said Dev. “Then you can reply to that one, right? That way you won’t have to use your last component.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for,” said Fifer. “Either way, they won’t be here for a couple of days, so we have time to decide whether to use this last send spell. I really want to save it in case I need to reach Thisb
e, though.”

  “Florence will be bringing more with her,” said Dev. “Won’t she? She’s the head of your army, after all.” Dev hadn’t ever met Florence, but he’d heard plenty about her over time.

  “I’m sure whoever comes will have extra. But I don’t feel good at all about using the last one until I’m one hundred percent certain more are in my possession. As we both know, plans can change. And I’m not at all positive we’ll be able to have Florence come directly to us.” She balled her fists and pounded her forehead. “I can’t believe my precious birds are gone forever. I feel terrible. Shimmer was my friend.”

  Dev didn’t know how to comfort her. She was distraught over it. So was he, but Fifer’s loss was much more personal. Plus, they’d been counting on the birds for later. Not having them would mess up their plans. And now, with Florence and whoever else was on the way, they had to figure out where to send them so that the dragons wouldn’t attack as they’d done with the birds.

  And there was also the question of what to do with Dev. Because he was supposed to be dead, they didn’t want anyone from Artimé to know quite yet that he was alive. This was for the same reason that they needed their friends to truly believe Thisbe had joined the other side—because in case anyone was captured and forced to take in the dragon-bone broth, they couldn’t tell the Revinir the truth. Dev was safer dead than alive at this point, at least in the minds of everyone potentially vulnerable to the Revinir’s schemes. But now Dev was second-guessing his intentions to attempt to cross the property line shortly for his hideout in the village. He’d figured he’d be able to leave just as he’d been able to come, but now he wasn’t so sure. Besides, he wanted to be here for Fifer if she needed him, especially now that she didn’t have Shimmer. He also wanted to be in on the action. It was a risk, though, because he knew the truth about what Thisbe was doing. And if the Revinir captured him, that had the potential to mess up everything.

  They went out to fish. Neither spoke for a long time, both lost in their thoughts as they crouched side by side along the bank, patiently holding the chain-mail net. Fifer was trying to figure out what to do with Florence and her team. And Dev was weighing the risks of staying at the palace. There was always one thing at the back of his mind… the fact that he felt like this palace belonged to him. And now that he actually had a place that was his, he was reluctant to leave it. And a little bit selfish, too. Because Fifer was forced to stay here, she got to remain in the comforts of the library. His library.

  “Maybe I could hide out in the alcove,” Dev said suddenly, breaking the silence.

  Fifer looked up, feeling an unexpected surge of hope at the idea. She didn’t want Dev to leave. It was too hard to communicate. Then she frowned. “Actually, if Florence and her team don’t come here, you might as well stay.”

  “But where are you going to send them?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking maybe the foothills on this side of the mountains. But I don’t know where the river flows.”

  Dev plucked a stiff blade of grass and started chewing on it. “Why not reroute them to the cavelands? The land there is flat, the river flows through it, and there’s room for them to find shelter in the caves. Plus, they can talk to Astrid and the other ghost dragons.”

  “I’ve never been there. How far away is it?”

  “Half a day’s journey via ghost dragon.”

  “That’s a bit far.”

  “But it’ll be totally safe for them there. They can’t stay in Grimere. And the forest might be too dangerous with such a large party—the Revinir would learn of them soon enough, and the dragons use the dragon path. Besides, that’s probably just as far from here as the cavelands.”

  Fifer spied a small fish coming their way and pointed at it. Dev nodded and slowly repositioned his end of the net. The fish got close, and the two scooped it up in one smooth motion. They pulled it onshore, and Fifer went for the fish knife to kill it and clean it while Dev returned to try for a second one. They made a good team. Everything would be harder if they were separated—like fishing, since there was only one net. And since neither of them knew when anybody else would be able to reach them because of the red dragons, it would be silly for Dev to leave now. It was a relief.

  “I’m staying,” Dev whispered over his shoulder, barely catching Fifer’s eye before turning back to the river.

  Fifer shoved a stick through the fish’s mouth. “Good.” She felt a weight lift off her shoulders. “Besides, have you even tried to leave since you got here? The dragons might not let you.”

  Dev was quiet as he spied their second course. He scooped up the fish and brought it over. “No. That’s been on my mind too. But I do want to try talking to the dragons a bit more.”

  “Talking?” Fifer scoffed. She handed the knife to Dev, then went to the water to rinse her hands. “They just ignore me when I talk to them.”

  “Roaring, then,” said Dev. He glanced at the dragon nearest them. The creature was alert but not looking at them. They’d made this trip to the river so many times that the dragons no longer seemed to get worried about them being so near this particular boundary. Perhaps they even thought that the two of them couldn’t or wouldn’t cross it. “At least they react to my roars. Don’t you think that indicates something?”

  “Like what?”

  “That I’m actually getting through the mind control.”

  Fifer, who didn’t have much experience with the mind-control part of the Revinir’s powers, could only shrug. “All I know is that these are not nice dragons. And if they can scorch a flock of magical ravens into ash, they can do the same to you.” She stood up and turned to him. “And I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to you.”

  Dev felt something thick rise to his throat. It wasn’t fire. It was something emotional. He remembered what the Revinir had told him. And he was angry that he kept thinking about it. That she had retained that amount of control over him. “When the Revinir…” His voice came out gravelly, and he cleared his throat. “Before she threw me out of the window, she said not one person in the world cared about me.”

  Fifer looked up. Her eyes grew shiny. “And did you believe that monster?”

  Dev’s bottom lip twitched, and he fought to still it. “Yes.”

  Fifer held Dev’s gaze. “Well,” she said, “she was wrong.”

  Sound the Alarms

  Receiving Fifer’s first send spell after so many weeks without a word had been a relief until Florence opened it. Florence and Simber had read it together in utter confusion, then called in Aaron and Maiven and Rohan. And then Ishibashi and Sky. And Carina and Seth. And Lani and Samheed. Nobody could make sense of the shocking turn of events, especially Rohan.

  “Could this be some sort of a trick?” Rohan asked. He couldn’t fathom it.

  “I think we have to treat it as real,” Lani said. She glanced at Aaron, who’d sunk to a chair and covered his face.

  Florence had immediately responded, and then she’d prepared a small rescue contingent to head out on the ghost dragons. Leaving Lani in charge of Artimé and Samheed and Kaylee to take over magical and combat training, Florence, Simber, Aaron, Maiven, Rohan, Ishibashi, Sky, Carina, and Seth departed Artimé in various stages of disbelief, having had little time to absorb and comprehend Fifer’s words.

  * * *

  Fifer’s response came in while they were flying on Gorgrun’s back to the Island of Fire. Florence called an emergency meeting with Maiven and Rohan and the rest of them. Simber flew next to them, and Quince beyond, carrying luggage and supplies. Florence opened the send spell and read it silently while the others waited.

  Rohan’s face looked as gray as it had been when he’d lived in the catacombs for years. “I just… I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered as he prepared himself for more atrocities.

  Florence looked up, then read the message aloud:

  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

  “Sinister?” Rohan said, his eyes widening. “Not the Thisbe everyone knows? What is going on here? She was injured…?” He shook his head angrily. “More evil than good? That’s not an indicator of anything! I kept telling her that!”

  Maiven touched Rohan’s arm. “We’ll get this straightened out.”

  “Clearrrly the Rrrevinirrr has put the twins thrrrough something horrrible,” Simber said. “We should have gone afterrr them earrrlierrr.”

  “We had an order from the head mage,” Florence reminded him.

  “But why didn’t Fiferrr contact us beforrre this happened?” Simber lamented. “Maybe we could have done something!”

  “I still think something odd is happening here,” Rohan said. “Thisbe would never do this!”

  “It’s not impossible for me to imagine Thisbe going this route,” Aaron muttered. His expression was distraught. He didn’t know what else to say. A pang of guilt went through him. Was his sister taking after him?

  Maiven looked from Florence to Simber and back again. It was heartbreaking to see their reactions. “Florence,” she said, “how do these notes strike you?”

  “I didn’t track with any of this at first,” said Florence. She glanced at Rohan. “I understand your disbelief, Rohan. Maybe Fifer is somehow compromised. There’s no telling what people will do when injured and threatened or bullied.” She thought for a moment. “But Fifer knew she didn’t have to make up a shocking story to get us to come—she could have just asked, and we’d be on the way immediately. So why would she need to lie?”