Dragon Captives Page 2

  “That’s not true,” Thisbe interjected.

  But Alex wasn’t listening. He worked his jaw angrily. “I wanted to send you to another island for a while just to give everybody here a break, but that would put others in danger. And you two just don’t seem to care. You’re twelve years old, and you still sneak out and put yourselves in these precarious positions without a thought for anybody else. I can’t take it anymore! I really can’t.” He lowered his head as if he’d given up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why can’t you do something good with your uncontrollable magic for once? Do you always have to be so destructive?” He stared at the wall for an uncomfortably long time.

  Thisbe bowed her head, thinking about Panther and feeling like the worst person in the world.

  “We’re really sorry,” Fifer said quietly. “We’re going to do better. We promise.”

  Alex exploded again. “You’re always sorry afterward! But sorry can’t fix everything! Sorry doesn’t bring Panther back to life.” He slammed his fist against the back of his chair and cringed in pain, making him even angrier. “The only thing that’ll keep Artimé safe is to lock you both up until you actually care enough to learn self-control!”

  Fifer and Thisbe looked sharply at their brother, their faces slack with shock and fear. Did he really mean that?

  Simber sat up and emitted a low growl, startling Alex and pulling him out of his enraged rant. He turned quickly toward his sisters, seeing the pain in their eyes, and his anger fizzled. What had he just said? He replayed the words in his mind. Then he pressed his lips together and flexed his stinging, throbbing fist. In a resigned voice, he said, “I’m sorry—I really lost it. Why don’t you two get dinner and head up to your room? We’ll talk more later.”

  Thisbe hesitated, as if she were about to protest.

  Fifer touched her shoulder. “Come on,” she said.

  Thisbe’s expression flickered, but she turned toward the door, and they quietly walked out.

  When they were gone, Alex slumped into his chair and let out a shuddering sigh that would tug at the hearts of all the loyal people of Artimé, if only they could hear it.

  But, except for Simber, they couldn’t. So Alex bore the burden alone.

  Taking a Toll

  What did I just say to them?” Alex wearily asked Simber. He felt dazed.

  “You told yourrr sisterrrs that you wanted to lock them up,” the winged cheetah said drily.

  “Forever? I didn’t say forever, did I?”

  “No, it wasn’t quite that bad.”

  Alex leaned forward over his desk and put his head in his hands. He remained still for a few moments, digesting everything. “I can’t believe I said that,” he said, his voice muffled. He sat up. “What in the world has happened to me? Some days I really don’t know. Thisbe . . . she just sets me off when she throws the ‘Unwanteds’ term around—as if she has any idea what it was like for us. . . .” He trailed off. Years ago in the adjacent land of Quill, where Alex and Aaron and many of the other Artiméans had grown up, being creative had been a crime. If children were caught singing, inventing something, telling a story, or even drawing in the dirt with a stick like Alex had done, they’d be declared Unwanted and sent to the desolate outskirts of Quill to be killed. Little did the Unwanteds know that Mr. Marcus Today, the man who was supposed to be putting them to death, had created a secret magical world to hide the Unwanteds in. Instead of killing them, Mr. Today taught the Unwanteds to use their creativity to do magic. But just because they’d been rescued at the last minute didn’t make the experience any less frightening or horrible. It wasn’t something to make light of.

  “Thisbe is still learrrning how farrr she can push things with you,” Simber said, abruptly breaking into Alex’s thoughts. “Trrry not to be too harrrd on yourrrself. The past ten yearrrs haven’t been easy.”

  Alex was quiet, reflecting on the more recent time of peace in Artimé. He cradled his left arm, staring at its ugly uselessness until his eyesight blurred. Then he blinked and gazed blindly out the window at the lawn and the sea beyond. “Tomorrow is the annual Day of Remembrance,” he said. “Ten years since the last battle, when Queen Eagala did this to me.” Alex narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about her or how she’d ambushed him—it always made him bitter. She’d ruined his life . . . and in turn, he had ended hers. He fought off the memories of the evil queen and tried to fill his mind with more pleasant ones. Like those of Pan, the dragon ruler of the sea, and her young, who’d come to help Artimé when all had seemed lost.

  “Ten years,” Alex repeated, almost forcefully, “since we made magical wings for the young dragons. They’ll be having their growth spurt about now, I imagine.” Idly Alex wondered if the young dragons would be back for their new larger wings soon, since he hadn’t been able to create ones that would grow with them. He’d told them to return to Artimé when the time came to replace the small wings. “Do you remember them?”

  Simber nodded, and Alex went on, his voice subdued. “I can’t believe how quickly time has passed. Sometimes those battles feel like they happened yesterday. And sometimes . . .” He shook his head listlessly. “Most of the time,” he corrected himself, “I barely remember what it was like to be that Alex, leading Artimé against our enemies. To have that kind of energy. I was so young. So stupid, half the time. But . . . brave, too. Setting out to save everyone and everything.” He got up and walked around the desk, absently perching on the corner of it like Mr. Today had often done.

  “You’rrre still prrretty young.”

  Alex gave Simber the side eye, noting that at least he didn’t say Alex was still stupid. But he didn’t say he was brave, either. No matter. Those two pretty much canceled each other out anyway.

  “I used to be so . . .” He swallowed hard and couldn’t find the word. Creative. Skilled. Talented.

  Generous.

  Kind.

  He let his left arm flop at his side. “And now . . . I’m nothing.”

  Simber frowned and remained silent for a time. “Do you still trrry to do magic orrr drrraw with yourrr good hand?”

  “No.” Alex laughed bitterly. “Not drawing, anyway. Magic only when I have to. Who could have predicted that I’d hit my peak for both at age seventeen?” His chest constricted. He slid off the desk and walked to the window. “And it’s just so painful now, you know? To see myself powerless while the girls are so . . . so bursting full of potential. Way more potential than I ever had. But their magic is so dark and so different from everyone else’s—we don’t have a clue what they’re capable of. And for me to try to raise them when I was just a kid myself . . . I didn’t know how hard that would be.

  “And now they won’t listen to me. They don’t remember what it was like back then—they think magic is all a big game. When I was twelve, there was no such thing as a game.” He thought back to when he and Aaron were his sisters’ age. Aaron had been looking forward to university, but Alex was awaiting death. Knowing his parents would just allow that to happen. He’d felt so abandoned.

  “Thisbe and Fifer don’t understand,” Alex murmured, his voice anguished as he floundered in the memory. “Life, death . . . They’ve never been forced to survive—not really. Not with someone always there to rescue them from their reckless escapades. They don’t respect death. Not like the rest of us.” He fell silent.

  “I would imagine you’rrre grrrateful they don’t have to grrrow up in a society that sends its crrreative childrrren to theirrr deaths.” Simber brought his paw to his mouth and bit at a claw. He glanced sideways at Alex.

  “Of course I am. I wouldn’t wish that experience on anybody. But . . .” He closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know. I’m just . . . I’m afraid for them. For all of us. I mean, what if . . . ?” He trailed off, imagining what it would be like if the kinds of attacks they’d experienced ten years ago happened today. Would the new generation of children in Artimé be able to fight the way they needed to? How could they, when
they hadn’t experienced the desperate, urgent desire for survival? But even more importantly, would Alex be able to lead them? He knew the answer to that already, and it scared him to death. He wasn’t fit to charge into battle. Not anymore. Not in his condition. He’d lost all confidence in that years ago.

  “You don’t sound like the Alex I used to know,” said Simber.

  A lump rose to Alex’s throat. He swallowed hard, and this time, when the tears came, he let them. “That Alex died along with this withered arm.”

  Simber rested his paw on the floor and looked at the young man he’d been loyal to since the death of Marcus Today, the mage who’d created him. He’d watched Alex struggle time and time again. And now it seemed like he was giving up. “That Alex is still inside of you,” Simber said quietly. “You can brrring him back if you choose to.”

  Alex shook his head, too disheartened to speak. After a minute he blew out a breath and said, “Tomorrow, for the Day of Remembrance, I’m going to stay in my living quarters so I can meditate on everyone who sacrificed so much for Artimé. Maybe that’s what I need to do to find my way out of this funk.” He looked at Simber. “Can you get word to Aaron about Panther, and let the girls know not to disturb me? It’ll be good for us to have a little break from each other anyway, after today. Tell them I said not to kill anything.” He frowned. “No, don’t tell them that. That’s horrible.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” said Simber. “I’ll take carrre of them and Pantherrr. You focus on taking carrre of yourrrself.” He got up and went to Alex’s side. “Maybe you’ll rrrediscoverrr some semblance of yourrr old self in yourrr memorrries.” He paused, looking troubled. “I rrreally hope so.”

  “Maybe.” Alex ran a hand over Simber’s sleek side and gave him a little scratch behind one ear. He knew it wouldn’t happen. He’d buried the old Alex. There was only one person who could bring him out, and it didn’t happen often. “I wish Sky were here.”

  “I know.” Simber gave Alex a sympathetic look, then exited the office. Alex went and sat at his desk, and opened one of the books he’d been studying. He tried to read it but couldn’t concentrate. Eventually he gave up and turned in for the night. Today had been brutal. But tomorrow, with all its memories, would be even worse.

  The Day of Remembrance

  The next morning, on the annual Day of Remembrance, Thisbe and Fifer sat down on the lawn outside the mansion with their best friend, Seth Holiday. Seth was thirteen, and he wore his new magical-component vest, which was an important piece of gear given to all thirteen-year-olds when they began Magical Warrior Training.

  Fifer admired it, trying to ignore the jealous twinge she felt. She wondered what components were in his pockets, but the flaps were down so she couldn’t see them. No matter—he’d show the girls later in secret. Fifer traced the perfect stitching on his shoulder with her finger. “Would you maybe let me try it on sometime?”

  Seth hesitated. Part of him wanted to let her, but part of him didn’t. “Well,” he said, “I would, but I don’t think that’s allowed.”

  Fifer persisted. “You’re not allowed to show us your spell components, either, but you’ve done that before.”

  Seth’s pale cheeks flushed. “I—I . . . That’s not quite the same.”

  Fifer sighed. “Oh, all right. It’s fine,” she said. “I get it.” She dropped the subject and began to tell Seth what had happened the day before in the jungle, when something caught her eye. She paused mid-sentence and focused on it. “Look,” she said, pointing to the west, where a creature was flying low and cumbrous over the sea toward them. “What is that?”

  Thisbe and Seth looked where she was pointing, and as the creature got closer, it became frighteningly clear what it was. “It’s a dragon,” Thisbe said in a hushed voice.

  “Is it one of the young dragons?” asked Seth.

  “I don’t know.”

  The dragon landed in the water with a violent splash. Flames and smoke pulsed from his nostrils. His chest heaved, and his ice-blue iridescent scales shimmered in the sunlight. Then his long, ropelike tail lashed and twirled, propelling the beast toward the shore.

  “He’s coming here!” said Fifer, alarmed. The twins exchanged a glance and jumped to their feet. Not wanting to get into any trouble with large scary creatures today, they started running to the mansion. “Simber!” Fifer yelled. Thisbe joined in. “Simber!”

  Seth stared slack-jawed at the creature, then scrambled after the girls, a beat behind them as usual.

  Simber came thundering toward the girls from the great dining hall, making the marble floor shake. “What’s the prrroblem?” he roared. But before they could answer, Simber saw for himself through the window. The dragon was propelling himself toward the mansion. In the sea, far beyond him and coming from the other direction, a black speck grew larger by the second. The growl died in Simber’s throat. “Oh. I see.” He looked at the girls. “Fetch yourrr brrrother. We have guests.”

  “But—but you said not to bother him today,” said Thisbe, a little breathless.

  Fifer nodded but seemed unsure.

  Seth interrupted. “If that’s one of the young dragons, wouldn’t Alex want to know? It’s been ten years. Maybe—”

  “It’s a drrragon!” the large stone cat growled impatiently. “I don’t carrre what I told you. Go get him!” That sent the three of them charging up the grand staircase two steps at a time without another word.

  When they reached the top, they headed left across the open balcony, running past the various residence hallways all the way to the end, to a secret hallway that housed Alex’s living quarters and office, and a variety of other rooms. Only a small percentage of Artiméans had the distinct magical ability to see and access the secret hallway, including Fifer and Thisbe. The girls turned sharply and disappeared through what seemed to be a solid wall, while Seth, lagging behind, stopped short and waited anxiously for their return. His breathing was ragged after the strenuous climb—he preferred to avoid stairs at all costs and regularly used the magical tube system to get places. But when the twins went somewhere, he usually followed. He always had, for as long as he could remember.

  His blue eyes strained anxiously after Fifer and Thisbe, but he was unable to see anything other than a large mirror on the wall, which left him stuck standing there alone with his reflection, feeling awkward. He desperately wished that he could join the twins and be part of the elite group, but even though he’d started Magical Warrior Training, his magic wasn’t strong enough yet—and it might never be. He always felt like he was missing out on something great.

  After a moment he glanced over his shoulder at Simber, who had apparently grown impatient waiting for Alex and was going outside to greet the visitors. Seth frowned, then dug through the pockets of his component vest, thinking maybe he ought to be armed, just in case this dragon wasn’t actually the right sort. His fingers trembled when he thought about it, but he located a string of scatterclips and held them tightly in one hand, only a little afraid to use them. His hand started to sweat, so he wiped it off on his pants. “Hurry up,” he muttered. He didn’t want to be the only one prepared to fight.

  Soon Thisbe and Fifer burst through to the balcony again, nearly plowing over their friend. Trailing them came Alex, his robe flapping loosely behind him. His right hand reached out to the handrail, while his left remained hidden inside his sleeve.

  Seth regained his balance and ran after them. By now the people of Artimé had heard the kerfuffle. They began gathering at the windows and in the frame of the enormous open door to see what was going on. Fifer, Thisbe, Alex, and Seth reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the exit but got caught up in the crowd.

  Lani Haluki, a young woman with long, straight black hair and olive skin, appeared in the doorway of a nearby classroom on the main floor. She paused a moment, watching curiously. Then she rolled to the nearest sea-facing window by using a belted contraption that magically propelled her forward, since her legs we
re paralyzed. She took in the scene, her orange eyes shining, then turned quickly to flag down Alex. “They’re back!” she called out as he drew near. “One of them is, anyway. The ice blue is named Hux, as I recall. And look—Pan is coming too. Do you see her? She must have sensed Hux’s presence returning to our waters and set out to greet him.” Her voice contained an undisguisable thrill. “Maybe we’ll get to witness their reunion. Come and watch!”

  But Alex didn’t seem to share her excitement. Instead of joining her, he weaved forward through the onlookers, following after Thisbe and Fifer as they forged ahead and pushed their way to the doorway. Once outside, the girls and Seth went down the path near the sea, but Alex halted and lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. His expression flickered as he observed the dragon approaching. “Girls!” he barked. “Get back inside. That’s a dragon!” Incredulous, he watched them running foolishly toward the water. Had they forgotten yesterday already?

  The twins and Seth stopped running and turned together, guilty looks on their faces.

  “What’s his problem?” asked Seth out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Tell you later,” muttered Thisbe. Reluctantly they inched back to Alex and the mansion door.

  “Dragons,” Alex repeated, giving them a look. “Fire breathing. Carnivorous. Please tell me you grasp the severity of this situation?”

  “But it’s one of our dragons, isn’t it?” asked Fifer meekly. “It seems safe.”

  “Inside,” repeated Alex firmly, and the girls moved to the threshold directly behind him. Seth trailed after them, even though he didn’t have to.