Dragon Curse Page 12

“I know.” Florence’s voice was terse. “But Alex . . . well. You know.”

  Samheed nodded. “I know—he’s not here.” He thought for a moment. “I could imagine him changing his mind under these circumstances. We’re up against a wall.” He frowned, hoping Claire was on her way.

  “How are we supposed to, like, do this?” asked Seth. “Do we just sit around on the lawn waiting to be attacked?” He’d never fought a battle at home before. There was so much more to think about. They had an actual mansion to protect, and so many people here, some of whom were defenseless.

  “I’ll have details on your blackboards before dawn,” said Florence. “Simber, how long before she gets here?”

  “I rrreally have no idea,” said Simber. “The Stubb has been keeping me busy with otherrr things.”

  It was the second scariest thing Seth had heard so far. How could Simber not know?

  “Will you please go look?” asked Florence. “For me?”

  Simber growled. “If I leave this hallway, she might find me.”

  “Go out through the head mage’s quarters, then,” said Florence. “Out the balcony. You can fit through those doors, right?”

  Simber grunted and got up.

  Once he left the room, Lani leaned toward Florence. “He’s in a bad way,” she whispered.

  “I can hearrr you,” Simber called from the hallway.

  Several of the older contingent shook their heads and had a brief laugh, despite the serious problems that plagued them.

  “Yes,” said Florence in her normal voice. “He’s not taking this well at all.”

  “Well, he might not have to for much longer if we all die,” said Seth.

  “We’re not— Stop that talk,” said Carina. “We’re going to be okay. Right, Florence?”

  “That’s the plan. I can’t count on anyone but this group, so please turn your blackboards on full volume so I can get ahold of you even if you’re sleeping.”

  “Wait,” said Sean. “You’re counting on our little group . . . to do what?”

  “To stand at the shore and launch obliterate spells at the Revinir.”

  “What about the dragons with her?” asked Sean.

  “Not at them. If we succeed in destroying the Revinir,” said Florence, “with any luck the spell will be broken, and the dragons won’t follow through on her orders.”

  Lani stared. “With any luck?”

  Florence sighed impatiently and got up off her special sofa that Mr. Today had made for her many years before. “If you have a better plan . . . ,” she began.

  “I know,” Lani muttered. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

  “It’s just that everything has gone completely bonkers, and we don’t have any other way to do this!” Florence said, her voiced raised and scaring everybody. “We aren’t equipped to fight enemies like this!”

  The room was quiet. They could hear Simber’s footsteps in the hall, and seconds later he appeared.

  “I estimate the Rrrevinirrr will be herrre at dawn,” he said.

  Nobody said anything for a long moment. “That’s very soon,” said Lani softly.

  Then Florence spoke again, quieter this time. “Go to bed, all of you. Get a little rest. I’ll have more news in a couple of hours.”

  They Meet Again

  Thisbe and Drock took off speeding over the water. As the two went toward the Revinir, Thisbe told the dragon what she’d talked about with Aaron. When she finished, she said tentatively, “So, what do you think?”

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking too,” said Drock. “The Revinir’s most recent call gave me the idea. We should go with her and play it as though we are under her mind control. Then we’ll see what we can do to break the connection between her and the others and get my family and your black-eyed friends to safety. And restore our land.”

  “Do you think you can . . . you know . . . kill her?” Thisbe cringed. In spite of everything, she still hated talking like that because of how much evil the Revinir had told her she possessed.

  “If I can get close enough without other dragons around, I might be able to,” said Drock. “She’s smaller than me. Hopefully she hasn’t gotten any stronger than when we saw her last.”

  “I’m afraid to find out,” said Thisbe grimly. “She’s probably continued guzzling the dragon-bone broth.”

  Drock was silent. He seemed to focus for a moment on a spot in the distance, and he sampled the air. His neck stiffened, and his scales shifted. “She knows we’re coming,” he said over his shoulder. “They’re slowing down.”

  Thisbe swallowed hard. She couldn’t see them in the dark, but her scales had been raised for quite some time. The only things she could see were pinpricks of burning lava coming from the Island of Fire, way off in the distance. “How far away?”

  “Not far now.” The dragon shivered and shook for a moment, then calmed down.

  They talked through their plans to infiltrate the Revinir’s operation. And how they’d each go for it if they had a chance to take her out of commission. They discussed how to behave the right way so that the Revinir would be convinced they were under her spell. Even if that meant doing things they didn’t want to do. Thisbe knew Drock would have a hard time with that, but he promised to do his best. However, that was the least of Thisbe’s worries. She feared he wouldn’t be able to withstand the Revinir’s roar for much longer. Especially if he was right next to her. Maybe she’d stop roaring once Thisbe and Drock were with her—Thisbe could only hope.

  • • •

  After a time, flying over the sea, Drock began to slow down. Thisbe could see the shadows of dragons against the sky ahead. It made her feel very small and completely useless, and she crouched on Drock’s back, hugging her knees and peering over his shoulder. She wondered seriously if they were making a huge mistake.

  Drock landed on the sea and glided to a stop. With his head down, he floated on the water, waiting as the Revinir and her team of dragons circled overhead, observing them. Thisbe pinched a fold of Drock’s skin in her hands, feeling like she was going to throw up. “Let’s get this right,” she whispered, going into character.

  Drock’s skin quivered, but he held steady.

  The Revinir shouted in a terrible voice, “Who are you? Why have you come to meet me?”

  Thisbe’s insides screamed. The Revinir knew full well who they were. She was testing them to see if they were under her spell. She stayed silent and let Drock speak first.

  “We’ve come to answer your call, Revinir,” said Drock.

  Thisbe slid to one side of Drock’s back so the moonlight would strike her face. “We have come to work with you,” she said.

  The Revinir took in a sharp breath, and then she smiled evilly. “It’s about time,” she said. “You’ve wasted precious days for me.” She eyed Thisbe with a look that turned the girl’s stomach.

  Thisbe tried her best to fix her gaze to be lifeless and appear like the other black-eyed slaves she’d seen. Complacent and obedient. Glassy-eyed. Monotone when speaking. Even as she did so, she attempted to see who was with the dragon-woman, but the moonlight was behind them, and all she could detect were a few shadows of small humans on the Revinir’s back. There were three or four more on the backs of unidentified dragons that were with her. If Drock could smell one of his siblings or his mother among them, he didn’t let on.

  “You will join me on my back now, Thisbe,” ordered the Revinir. “We won’t be going through this rigmarole again. There’s no escaping.”

  “Yes, Revinir,” said Thisbe, though everything inside her screamed to run away.

  “Help her, Drock,” the Revinir commanded. Obediently Drock unfurled his great purple wing and held it up for Thisbe to climb out on. The Revinir swooped low and hovered nearby, close enough for Thisbe to take a running jump. Despite her fears, Thisbe leaped and landed on the Revinir’s back, her legs and arms splaying in all directions as a pair of hands reached out to help her stand. Thisbe, tryin
g hard to maintain her glazed-eyed appearance, didn’t get a good look at any of her new companions, here or on the accompanying dragons. She realized with a sinking heart that they weren’t the old blue-uniformed soldiers that guarded the catacombs. They were probably the black-eyed slaves that Thisbe had once worked with. She faced forward, as they did, and then she couldn’t see them at all.

  The Revinir ordered Drock to take flight and join the other dragons that circled, and Drock obeyed again, to Thisbe’s relief. But what next? Would the Revinir be satisfied now that she had the two rogue ones? Would she turn back to Grimere? Or did she want to fight Artimé anyway?

  The dragon-woman seemed to be thinking about that exact thing. As she and the dragons circled above the sea, and the black-eyed slaves sat as still as possible on their backs, Thisbe squeezed her eyes shut tight and prayed to whoever might listen. Take us away from Artimé. Go back to Grimere.

  After the Revinir gazed long and hard toward Artimé, which was a visible little lump now that the sky was growing lighter, she turned her head to look closely at Thisbe, a suspicious expression on her face. Thisbe stared straight ahead, continuing to make her eyes as glassy as she could.

  “What made you finally heed my call?” the Revinir asked accusingly. “Why didn’t you come before?”

  Thisbe stared, her mind whirring. What should she say? What would appease the woman? Did she suspect that Thisbe and Drock were playing her? Thisbe’s heart pounded. Her hands grew clammy, and her throat became dry. Her mind was blank. Her answer would likely determine what the Revinir would do next, so it had to be a good one. She knew the Revinir. Knew that the woman was not only greedy, but she loved herself more than anything or anyone.

  Thisbe cleared her throat. Then she said in a voice that sounded strange in her ears, “You finally became strong enough. I can no longer resist. And . . . I no longer want to. I am one with you.”

  The Revinir regarded the girl for a long moment, a smile creeping along one half of her dragonlike face. “You are my lucky one,” the woman murmured. “You’re my secret weapon. And you’re worth ten times more than any other of these that stand with you. Together, Thisbe, we will conquer the world.”

  “Yes, Revinir,” said Thisbe.

  “But there is one more black-eyed child I must have. I’m sure you understand. And you will help me, won’t you?”

  Thisbe’s lungs froze. She knew the Revinir must be talking about Rohan, though he, like her, hardly seemed like a child anymore, after everything they’d been through. Her throat felt like it had a big, sticky lump in it. “Yes,” she said, as firmly and as loudly as she could.

  “Good. We must have your sister with us. Where is she?”

  Thisbe’s muscles went weak. Fifer? She’d thought the Revinir had forgotten about her sister by now. Was she going to go to Artimé after all and ruin Thisbe’s great sacrifice for her homeland? And . . . why didn’t the Revinir say Rohan? Thisbe knew she valued him—according to her he was mostly good and worked very hard. It made more sense for her to want him than Fifer. Or had she already done something to him? The thought made her waver and her eyesight grow dim.

  She fought through it, trying to breathe normally, and managed to squeak out a suspicious-sounding story, but it was the best she could come up with. “Fifer left yesterday for the Island of Fire. She used the volcano network to get back to your land. She . . .” Thisbe hesitated, then continued blindly, hoping she wasn’t making a big mistake. “She’s planning to fight and conquer you to return the land to the old rulers.” She paused. When the Revinir didn’t speak, she added, “We’ll have to capture her there.”

  The Revinir seemed to believe Thisbe. And why wouldn’t she? All the other black-eyed slaves told the dragon-woman painfully honest truths while they were under her control. Thisbe would never come willingly—nor would that troublesome dragon, Drock, if their minds weren’t being fully affected by her.

  Thisbe blinked and continued with her dead stare, feeling cold sweat break out, like she might faint. The Revinir spent a painstaking moment studying her, then faced forward and ordered the fleet of dragons to abandon the mission of attack. “Return to Grimere!” she roared. “If we come across Fifer Stowe, capture her and bring her to me.”

  Thisbe stood steady, but her insides were collapsing. Everything had just gotten a thousand times more horrible. But at least they were turning away from Artimé. That was the main goal. Now . . . if only there were a way to tell Fifer to stay clear of Grimere forever.

  As the party flew to the west and the sun rose behind them, Thisbe started to feel a little calmer. She’d gotten through the moment and had accomplished what she’d intended. And hopefully Simber or Spike or someone from Warbler would notice and be able to tell the people of Artimé and Quill that the Revinir was retreating. She’d bought them more time. She and Drock had succeeded. And Artimé would be functioning normally again in no time.

  Thisbe relaxed her stance a little, and her faint feeling subsided. Exhaustion was hitting her hard now that the immediate stress had lessened and Artimé was safe. The people around her knelt on the Revinir’s back to help keep their balance, so Thisbe knelt too, holding on to one of the many spikes that now adorned the Revinir’s spine between her wings. Clearly the woman was continuing to take dragon-bone broth. Was she intending to fully become a dragon? Would she ever decide she was dragon enough?

  With the Revinir focused ahead and the sunrise providing light, Thisbe slowly sat back. Carefully she glanced over her shoulder and confirmed that the people around her were black-eyed slaves. She recognized the glazed look of one fellow worker on the left—it was Prindi, the girl Thisbe had tried to talk to on her first day in the catacombs. Prindi didn’t return her gaze. Thisbe faced forward again to make sure the Revinir was still focused on steering everyone toward Grimere, then turned to glance over her other shoulder. Her eyes widened. She took in a sharp breath and nearly clutched her throat but stopped herself from reacting just in time.

  It was Rohan.

  A Momentary Relief

  They’rrre turrrning arrround!” Simber growled from the air above the mansion. He circled and flew down to Florence on the lawn. “They’rrre turrrning arrround! Something must have happened to stop them.”

  “Did you see anything? Anyone?” Florence asked anxiously.

  “They’rrre too farrr away. I can only detect that they’rrre moving west now.”

  Florence’s expression was steel-like, as if she wasn’t quite ready to believe him. “Can you look again? I want to be completely sure.”

  Simber didn’t argue—he almost couldn’t believe his eyes either. He took a running leap and flew up and around, going farther out to sea this time and hovering for a good long moment, eyes trained on the spot of movement heading back toward Warbler and the volcano island. The sky was brightening, which helped. He stared so long his eyes began to water. When he was certain beyond all doubt, he returned to the lawn. “They arrre definitely heading west,” he said. “I’d bet my life on it.”

  Florence brought her hands to her forehead, her expression awash in relief. “I’m shocked,” she said. “I really can’t believe it. We’re saved.” She hesitated, then dropped her hands and said, “Do you want to alert the head mage? Or do you want me to do it?”

  Simber’s face turned pained. He didn’t like asking anyone for favors. But he considered the task, finding such a simple thing exhausting. Frieda Stubbs was sucking the life out of him. “Will you do it forrr me?” he asked meekly.

  “Of course. I’ll do anything to help you. You know that.”

  “And I, you. Thank you, Florrrence. I . . . I rrreally apprrreciate it.”

  Florence flashed a sympathetic smile. “Any time.” She gave the cheetah’s shoulder a reassuring pat, then went inside the mansion, where bleary-eyed mages were just starting to emerge, thinking they would soon be fighting.

  “You can go back to your rooms,” Florence announced. “We’ll have an update s
oon.” She went up the stairs and entered the family hallway to Frieda’s room, feeling a tiny bit smug that Frieda wasn’t magical enough to move her residence to the mostly secret hallway, and therefore wouldn’t sully Alex’s old place with her horribleness.

  She rapped hard on the woman’s door, putting a small dent in the wood.

  There was a flurry of noise inside, and then the woman threw open the door. Her light brown hair was standing up in all directions, and she had bags under her eyes. She wore the head mage’s robe.

  Florence tried not to cringe at the sight of her.

  “What is it?” said Frieda, as if she was annoyed to see her. “What do you want?”

  “I have good news,” said Florence evenly. “The Revinir and her party of dragons have turned back. We are no longer under threat of attack. We’ll continue to monitor the situation, and I will keep you informed if anything changes.”

  Frieda’s expression first registered relief, and then her eyes widened and a smile grew. “They must have found out that I’m the head mage now.”

  Florence frowned. “I . . . don’t think that’s the reason.”

  “Sure it is.” Frieda’s face brightened even more. “They discovered that I overthrew Aaron, and they grew scared. Why else would they turn back?”

  Florence could think of a few explanations, but she could hardly stand being in Frieda’s presence, so she didn’t begin to list them. “I’ll keep you informed,” she said again, and turned to go. “You should put out a statement on the blackboards letting everyone know that they can relax. Do you need me to help you write it?”

  “Of course not,” said Frieda. “I’m not a baby.” She closed the door.

  Florence sighed in disgust. She went back down to the main floor of the mansion and outside to let Simber know that the job was done.

  When she returned inside, a small group of dissenters had gathered by the dining room blackboard and were reading the statement from the head mage. Florence stopped to read it as well.

  Attention, people of Artimé! This is your head mage, Frieda Stubbs. I have defeated the Revinir, and she will not be returning to our shores ever again, as long as the Stowes are banished and I am head mage. I accept your thanks for taking charge of the situation and keeping everyone safe. If Aaron Stowe had been in power, this most certainly wouldn’t have happened! Now we have peace! And no one trying to turn us into a bad place anymore! I will hold a celebratory reception for myself and my supporters on the lawn this afternoon. If you still like Aaron, don’t come. He is gone forever too, by the way.