Dragon Slayers

by Lisa McMann

  Fifer smiled. “I washed your other shirt. It’s probably dry by now. Hanging on the bannister.” She slid down and rested her head on the pillow, staying curled up so she didn’t accidentally bump Dev’s burns. “I’m going to take a nap. I didn’t sleep much last night. Wake me up if you need anything.”

  “Sure.” As Fifer closed her eyes and drifted off, Dev got up slowly. He stood for a moment, then tested how it felt to move. His wounds had been extensive, and without Fifer’s medicine he’d be in excruciating pain right now. Instead the pain was tolerable, and the wounds were scabbing over properly. He walked slowly over to the bannister to get his shirt, then eased it on, not sure he liked how it felt against his raw skin.

  Leaving it unbuttoned, Dev went toward the east window but paused in front of a book that was lying on the floor. He pushed it with his toe into the light and saw it was a book about dragons written in the ancient language. The cover illustration depicted humans slaying a dragon. Unable to bend too far without opening his wounds, Dev flipped the cover open with his foot and used his toes to turn the pages. He studied the drawings, noting the different weapons that the people carried. With the right kind of wood and a bit of metal, Dev could carve most of them. He already had a good start on a few.

  Inexplicably the image of the gray-haired man returned to his mind, and that made him think of the drawings he’d found, especially the one of the girl in the orchard. He went over to the desk and found the book that he’d slipped that picture into so many weeks ago, and he pulled it out.

  The sight of it struck him hard in the chest, and he knew suddenly why the girl looked so familiar. She resembled one of the other black-eyed slaves, whose name Dev had never learned because they’d been under the Revinir’s mind control almost the whole time he’d worked in the catacombs. But he’d seen her in the hallways when he’d first gotten sent down there. He was sure of it.

  He looked back down at the drawing. When had this been done? The edges were battered, and the image was yellowed with age. It couldn’t have been just a handful of years ago—it had to be much longer than that. So did that make this someone’s mother? Maybe Fifer would see the resemblance too, and know the name of the girl from the catacombs.

  Dev felt a surge of hope, like he’d found a way to reunite the girl with someone, even though it was only a portrait. It was better than nothing. But his heart crashed just as quickly when he realized that if the drawing was of the girl’s mother, it couldn’t be his mother. And maybe that meant that this palace belonged to the girl… and not to him.

  News from a Friend

  Florence had a lot on her mind. Getting two ghost dragons, a flying cheetah, and a group of humans here was a great deal to tackle, what with the volcano network and all the flying in a strange land she’d never been to before. Then there was Thisbe to worry about. She’d been trying to stay calm about everything, to be the voice of reason, but this was a huge problem that she didn’t know how to solve. And with that problem came intense heartbreak all around—including her own. But she couldn’t dwell on it because she was leading this crew. And then Drock had shown up, staying close as they traveled but trying not to appear so. Was he under the Revinir’s mind control or not? That had given Florence one more thing to address. Luckily, Simber soon found Drock to be of his own mind.

  When Fifer’s send component showed up in the cavelands, Simber and Drock were on the ground talking and Florence was in the midst of assigning everyone caves to settle into until further notice. Ghost dragons roamed around asking repetitive questions and making everything just a little more difficult, and Florence was eager to get back on Gorgrun, fly over to Ashguard’s palace, and figure this whole mess out.

  Florence opened the message and read it, and realized she’d never responded to the head mage to let her know that they were indeed going to camp out at the cavelands as commanded… for the moment, at least. So she hastily wrote back:

  Fifer,

  We’re in the cavelands as you suggested. I’m coming to you later today on a ghost dragon to do a flyover and drop supplies. We’ll stay high in the air unless it looks safe to land. Don’t worry—those dragons can’t hurt us. Anxiously awaiting further instructions on how to get you out of there so we can find Thisbe.

  Florence

  She sent it off, then shouted out a couple of orders and went over to greet Drock. “It’s good to see you,” Florence said warmly to the dark purple dragon. “You’ve managed to keep yourself from succumbing to the Revinir’s roar. That’s quite a feat. Watching all of these dragons fly around aimlessly is quite a sad sight.” She patted Drock’s side. “How are you, old friend?”

  Drock’s expression was as desolate as the cavelands. “I’m losing hope, Florence. How are you?”

  The dragon’s words cut deep. And even though Florence was energized and eager to help the people of Grimere, she thought she understood how bleak things must look from Drock’s perspective. He was the only dragon that had retained control of his own mind, and it had been this way for months. His mother, Pan, and his four siblings didn’t acknowledge him or even seem to know him. There was no one to talk to except the ghost dragons, and Drock couldn’t stay in the cavelands for long without being missed. “I’m sorry,” Florence said. “You must feel terribly alone.”

  “It’s true,” said Drock. “I was pleased to notice your party shortly after your arrival. Though I’m sure the Revinir has received word by now that you’re here.”

  “Unfortunately that couldn’t be helped,” said Florence. “There was no way to hide being spewed from a volcano. Even if the ghost dragons had used their cloudlike hiding features, they wouldn’t have been able to hide Simber or me. And it was too late—we were noticed from the moment we entered the area.”

  “She’s likely been expecting you for some time,” said Drock. He looked around the cavelands as if searching for someone but didn’t seem to locate them.

  At the same time, Rohan and Maiven approached the small group. They greeted Drock, and Rohan blurted out, “Is it true about Thisbe?”

  Drock bowed his head. “I saw one of the red dragons drop her at the castle. She went inside. That’s all I know.” He hesitated. “It doesn’t look promising.”

  Florence and Simber exchanged a glance while Rohan stared numbly ahead. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “So Fiferrr’s message was accurrrate,” said Simber. “As I thought.”

  “Is there any way you can find out what’s happening with her?” Florence asked Drock.

  “I was on my way back to the castle to see if I could circle around and eavesdrop when I saw your party arrive. And since I’m here now, there’s… someone I need to check on. But I’ll go back to the castle soon and see what I can discover.”

  “I’m going with you,” said Rohan.

  “No, you’rrre not,” said Simber sharply.

  Rohan was taken aback. “Why? Thisbe will listen to me. I need to speak with her.”

  “Rohan,” said Florence patiently. “I know you’re not thinking clearly, but if you are seen, you’ll be captured. Everyone at the castle knows you.”

  “Then I’ll go at night on a ghost dragon,” he said. “We’ll use the fog feature. I’ll stay hidden.”

  Florence studied him. “That’s actually not a bad idea,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll think about it. But before I let you go anywhere, I need to see you put your feelings in a separate compartment for a little while and focus on what’s right for our combined army.”

  “I can do that,” said Rohan, standing up straighter.

  “And speaking of our combined army,” Florence said, “I’d like to hand over the leadership position to Maiven now that we are back in her land. Maiven, your word is law from this point forward.”

  “Thank you,” said Maiven with a little bow of her head.

  Florence shared her plan to do a flyover with Maiven and Drock. “It’s wise to use a ghost dragon,” Drock said. “I’d take you mys
elf, but I’m not sure what the red dragons have been ordered to do. They might attack me or any other regular dragon. At least if they do attack, a ghost dragon won’t suffer from it.”

  They dispersed to take care of their individual tasks: Maiven to address the people and give them an update, Drock to search the cavelands for Dev before heading to the castle, and Florence to prep for her trip and find a ghost dragon to take her to Ashguard’s palace. She wanted to get moving as quickly as possible to get an idea of what they were dealing with so they could start fixing things. Or, at least, that’s what she intended to do. But things weren’t going great for anyone lately.

  On Equal Ground

  Thisbe and her mind-controlled servant, named Zel, strolled the grounds outside the castle. Thisbe asked the woman a few random questions, but Zel only responded to direct orders that seemed appropriate for a personal servant. So Thisbe soon gave up trying to chat, and they went in silence. Two dragons circled overhead, staying suspiciously close, which told Thisbe that the Revinir didn’t trust her. But they were making progress.

  That wasn’t on Thisbe’s mind right now, though. She needed to ditch Zel so she could send a message to Fifer without the Revinir finding out. And soon—she knew that Florence and the rest would be getting here anytime. They might even be here already. She didn’t want to put Fifer in a compromising position of having to explain to anyone else what an incoming send spell was all about.

  Thisbe had thought about sending it from her room when Zel left to run errands, but she had no idea what route the magical item would take as it traveled through rooms and down hallways. And her balcony had potential, but she worried about being seen by dragons or other servants. It was safer to send it out here if Thisbe could find a remote place out of sight, but only if Zel didn’t witness the act, for if the Revinir asked her about seeing Thisbe do anything suspicious, Zel would be compelled to tell her.

  She wandered to the immense waterfall with Zel on her tail. The water shimmered and pounded, making Thisbe’s chest vibrate. It was one of the first things she’d seen when she and Fifer and Seth had crossed over the gorge for the first time on Hux the ice blue. It was wide and powerful, falling off the cliff into the vast nothingness below.

  The image in her mind of her mother had given her a tiny glimpse of what this used to look like before the worlds separated. The gorge had once not existed, and this area had been part of the sea that led to the seven islands. Somewhere along here was where Thisbe’s mother had been abducted by pirates, who’d somehow gotten help from Rohan’s mother.

  Rohan. His name was on Thisbe’s lips in an instant, but she made no sound. She closed her eyes as her heart stabbed beat after beat inside her rib cage. How could she answer his message when she had no words? All she could do was hope he’d forgive her someday. She was keeping this secret for the purest of intentions, no matter how awful it made her look. She was protecting him and all the others from having to tell the truth to the Revinir if, somehow in this process, the dragon-woman managed to capture anyone and force them back into compliance. Like Zel, here. In her right mind, the young woman might be totally against the Revinir, but she could do nothing about it except report everything as she saw it back to the dragon-woman. It would be so easy to foil this entire slippery plan that Fifer had conjured up. Thisbe had to stay strong no matter what.

  But it was hard to do. It seemed like every minute there was a mental fight. A temptation to give in and give up. How bad could life be with the Revinir perpetually in charge? With mind-controlled dragons and humans ruling over everyone? Thisbe and Fifer and Dev and the rest of them could just retreat, and maybe start life over in Artimé. There was always room for more there. But no… the Revinir had promised to take over the seven islands next. There was no place safe from her—not even another world on the volcano network, because the dragon-woman knew how to use that system too. It was up to Thisbe to stop everything now, before it was too late. They’d already needed to concoct this dangerous plan just to get close enough to the dragon-woman to take her out. It was this… or surrender. And then what? Locked in the dungeon to ride out their lives until there were no more black-eyed people left? Or… worse?

  The thought brought fire to the back of Thisbe’s throat. Her scales rose, and smoke drifted out of her nostrils. If that happened, this beautiful land would never be the same. It would never again be ruled the way it was meant to be. The Revinir would be the sole leader. The dragons would never be free. And the ghost dragons would never be allowed to pass on to the next life. Everything would be so messed up and wrong. And if the Revinir got control of the seven islands, too, there would be no one left to oppose her.

  Thisbe walked close to the rushing waterfall and saw that there was a narrow ledge behind it. Her heart thumped, and her stomach churned. Her fear of heights was ever present, no matter how many times she was forced to deal with it. She grew dizzy just thinking about stepping onto the ledge and quickly retreated. “I need to sit down,” she told Zel, and stumbled ridiculously close to the edge of the world. Dropping to her hands and knees, Thisbe crawled to safety and found a shady group of trees to sit under. Zel followed diligently, seemingly unaffected by any fears. Thisbe shifted around the base of the grouping of trees, trying to partially shield herself from Zel. Maybe she could at least write a note and find a time to send it later.

  Zel stayed standing, staring off at nothing. One of the curving tree trunks partially obstructed her view of Thisbe. Thisbe quickly opened a send component and started writing:

  Fife,

  It’s working. Declaring allegiance together in two days, then expecting the questions/confusion and hoping for a moment to do the deed. All my love to you and Dev, and please take care of Rohan when you see him—he’s falling apart.

  Thiz

  As Thisbe held the component and quickly scanned the words, her stomach was in knots. If anyone read this but Fifer, the jig would be up. And Thisbe’s life would be in danger.

  A shadow fell over the note, and Thisbe looked up. It was Zel, standing over her. “What are you doing?” asked Zel. She reached out for the component.

  Thisbe froze. If she sent it immediately, Zel would tell. What else could she do? She should never have attempted this!

  “Revinir will like to see this,” said Zel more firmly, placing her fingers on the end of the note.

  Thisbe panicked. Then the heat in her throat thickened, and she yanked the component away. She let out a blast of fire, incinerating the spell and sending the ashes to float on the air.

  Overnight Journey

  Drock didn’t find Dev, but he found a ghost dragon named Astrid who looked familiar from the day Drock had brought Dev here. She seemed to have a faint recollection of a boy who’d stayed a night or two. After Drock described Dev, Astrid began to remember a little more, until she recalled a strange moment when she said Dev had tied a long braid of grass around her talon. She couldn’t remember why, though.

  “That’s strange,” said Drock. “Where did he get long grass around here?” The cavelands bordered a desert. The forest was beyond it, but not conveniently close to the area where the ghost dragons dwelled.

  Astrid squeezed her eyes shut, thinking hard. And then they flew open. “It wasn’t here!” she exclaimed. “It was by the palace! Yes! The Devastator—that’s what I called him. He’s at Ashguard’s palace. And he told me to tell some dragon named Drock to find him there.”

  “That would be me,” said Drock. “Many thanks, Astrid.”

  “The recent stuff is more difficult to remember,” said Astrid.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean things that just happened are impossible to recall. But I can tell you what happened forty years ago.”

  Drock smiled kindly. “Perhaps you could do that sometime.”

  Astrid looked at him. “Do what?”

  Drock’s smile didn’t fade, but he changed the subject. “I was wondering if you would like to take another trip
to the palace to look for Dev. Our friend Florence needs a ride. She’s standing right over there, the tall black warrior statue. We want to give Gorgrun and Quince a little break after all the flying they’ve done lately.”

  “I would be delighted,” said Astrid. Together the two dragons walked over to where Florence was gathering up items to take with her. She had some ropes from their supply chest and a sturdy sack of components for Fifer, including plenty of send components so they could stay in touch without worry. Drock introduced Astrid and let Florence know that Dev had last been seen at the palace too.

  “That’s strange,” said Florence. “He’s not there now. Fifer said she was alone.”

  “Perhaps he’s hiding in the surrounding area if there are dragons there,” said Drock, looking worried. “I hope he’s all right. I told him to stay out of Grimere at all costs. The Revinir thinks she threw him out the tower window to his death, but I managed to grab him just in time.”

  Florence gazed at the adolescent dragon. “You’ve turned into quite a hero, Drock,” she said. “We are grateful for all you’re doing to help us. And we’re eager to get your mother and siblings out of the Revinir’s grip.”

  Drock seemed uncomfortable yet pleased with the praise. “I want that too. Thank you. I’ll be going now—I can’t stay away from Grimere for too long. Back to the castle. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

  “Maiven will be here awaiting news. Simber, too. I’ll be gone for a day or so, but don’t be surprised if you see a ghost dragon in fog formation moving near the castle with a rider or two.”

  “I’ll be on the lookout for an unusually low-flying cloud of fog,” Drock promised. With a good-bye to Astrid, the dark purple dragon took off and sailed low toward the forest beyond the strip of desert.

  Florence reintroduced herself to Astrid in case the ghost dragon had forgotten her and warned her that she was quite heavy. But Astrid didn’t seem troubled by it. “Do you know where Ashguard’s palace is?” Florence asked her, even though she knew Astrid had been there recently.