Dragon Fire Read online

  Now she was dressed in her old commander uniform: a charcoal-colored military jacket and pants with tall black boots. A bandolier hung from each of her shoulders crosswise, making an X over her body, front and back. The bandoliers held nearly a dozen weapons. Perched on her head was a purple felt cap with a small visor, and in one hand she carried a swagger stick to help her keep balance when the dragon ride got rough. Maiven looked smart and tough as she tirelessly trained the future rulers. There was little resemblance left to the feeble old woman Thisbe had known in the dungeon. Once freed, Maiven had quickly regained her strength. Only her wise words, soothing voice, and white hair in a thick plait down her back reminded Thisbe that this was the same person she’d met in that dark cell.

  Thisbe smoothed down the scales on her arms and studied the others, who wore expressions of fear and fatigue. “Perhaps we should take a break first,” she said, and sheathed her sword. “And try to sleep. All right, Maiven?”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  Thisbe was the best swordsperson of all the former slaves, having had years of training in Artimé. First she’d studied stage combat with Samheed Burkesh, the theater instructor, and then she’d taken general sword fighting classes and trained privately with Florence. Rohan was slightly better than the others as he’d had more time to get used to carrying the weapon after escaping the catacombs with Thisbe. But he was still no match for her.

  As Gorgrun continued flying, Thisbe sat down for a chance to catch her breath. She looked out in front of them to try to gauge their location, but it was difficult in the dark. She’d made this journey several times by now and knew that the Island of Fire would be the first island they’d come to, halfway into the trip. But the ghost dragons weren’t very fast fliers, so it would be a while.

  As the group rested, Thisbe mentioned the islands they’d be passing and told the others about the volcano transportation system. She explained how the one in the crater lake west of Grimere worked in conjunction with this one. Then she and Rohan laid out their theory about the meteors that had hit the land, causing multiple problems for the people of Grimere decades before and creating the crater lake. Maiven knew all about the meteors, but she had been surprised to learn of the unusual undersea workings of the volcano. She knew nothing of the Revinir’s initial journey through the volcanos years ago, when she was known as Queen Eagala. No one else seemed to know much about it either. The sneaky dragon-woman had managed to keep that a secret.

  * * *

  They slept a few hours, then woke at sunrise and sparred some more. When they took another break, Maiven asked Thisbe and Rohan, “Do you suppose the second meteor struck in this sea and became the impetus for the Island of Fire volcano?”

  “I’ve never read about that happening in our history books,” said Thisbe, who wasn’t sure what “impetus” meant, but she could guess based on the rest of the conversation. “Though that would explain the connection.” She told them how the people of Quill hadn’t been allowed to write anything down or tell stories for many decades because of High Priest Justine’s heavy-handed rule and fear of creativity, so much of their history had been lost.

  “There would have to have been several more meteors to create all of the volcano portals you mentioned going past,” Rohan mused. He took a swig of water from his canteen and wiped his lips on the cuff of his sleeve. “We only know of two from our books, but just the one volcano formed.”

  “The other place we ended up in felt like a totally different world, unconnected from us,” Thisbe explained. “It seems to me like no one around here would have known if a meteorite had struck there and formed some sort of volcano.” She shuddered. “I don’t really have any desire to go back to hang out with that giant eel.”

  “Giant eel?” asked Maiven.

  Thisbe described the gray world for Maiven and told her what had happened there. “The eels have been in these waters too. They must travel through the volcanos. But that lake in the gray world seemed like it might be their home base. There wasn’t anything else alive around there that we could see, except for some plants.”

  Maiven furrowed her brow. “I don’t wish to visit that world, thank you,” she said. “We have enough darkness in our own right now to contend with.” She tapped her lips, then murmured, “We need tea.” A moment later Reza was heating up a tin vessel of water with his fiery breath for Maiven to make tea. Everyone took a moment to refresh and rejuvenate while enjoying the scenery.

  Rohan wore a thoughtful look. “Maiven,” he said, “when the Revinir had us and the dragons working together in the castle while under her mind control, did that mean the proper leaders had taken over Grimere again? And if so, why didn’t the ghost dragons die?”

  “Clearly not,” said Maiven. “As Gorgrun and Quince might be able to tell you, the true leaders will only be able to retake control when the black-eyed humans and the dragons are in their fully functioning minds. Then the dragons must choose a leader.”

  “And what about the black-eyed people?” asked Prindi. “Do they choose a leader too?”

  “We already have one,” said Rohan. “Maiven Taveer is our queen.”

  Prindi was abashed. “I meant to ask if there was a process or ritual for the official choosing,” she said quietly.

  Maiven reached over and took the girl’s hand, smiling warmly. “I understood what you meant. Yes, there will be an official declaration by all of us. And you don’t need to choose me.”

  No one could imagine choosing anyone else. Rohan clarified: “So there can be no retaking of the land of the dragons by the two proper ruling bodies unless the dragons and black-eyed families, in their sound minds, have made their choices?”

  “That’s correct,” said Maiven. “But there’s one more step. The dragon ruler and the human ruler must approve of each other, too, and pledge to work together.”

  The children nodded, glad to finally understand how things worked. “I don’t think the Revinir knows all of that,” said Thisbe. “And nobody had better tell her. It’s a relief that she can’t just take over as the ruling dragon like she seems to be focused on doing.”

  “Nobody would vote for her,” said Gorgrun, who had been listening. “Not once they find out what she did to them.”

  “Ours is a good system of checks and balances,” said Maiven. “And it can be a wonderful process, finding new leaders from all corners of our land.”

  That reminded Thisbe of the other question she had for Maiven about what lay beyond the land of the dragons. But Maiven dabbed the corners of her mouth and stood up. “Back at it,” she said cheerfully, like she enjoyed every moment of the training. “Afterward Thisbe will teach us a few magical spells.”

  * * *

  They continued training until their arms shook and their muscles could take no more. Thisbe tried and failed to put her other fears and worries aside—in fact, the closer they got to Artimé, the more fear she felt in her gut about Fifer. Thisbe had experienced a lot of things going wrong in her life by now, and a certain feeling of dread remained present most of the time. After having a couple of things go right for once in the past few days, Thisbe could only imagine that her luck would soon turn bad again. And the memory of Alex and being at odds with him when he’d died weighed heavily. The thought of losing another sibling in the same manner was becoming all-consuming.

  When at last they put their weapons down and settled in to learn about magic, Thisbe shoved her concerns to the back of her mind—she had to focus and get this nonmagical team ready to fight in a magical land. She rummaged around the supplies for a specific box she’d packed, which contained craft-type items from Maiven’s house, like paper and colored pencils and extra dragon scales and feathers and even a few colorful jewels that had been lying about. As she passed the items around, Thisbe instructed the future rulers to create small gifts for each other so they could learn to send seek spells.

  Once gifts were constructed and exchanged, Thisbe taught the others how to conce
ntrate on the person who’d given them the gift, and then she demonstrated with Rohan. By evening, all of them had succeeded with Artimé’s simplest spell.

  Under the moonlight, Maiven lit a lantern and turned to her books, while Thisbe went with the others to the tail end of Gorgrun and taught them how to throw a glass spell. After much effort, Rohan, Prindi, Asha, and Reza all managed to do that as well. While Rohan worked with the remaining ones on the glass spell, Thisbe moved on to teach invisible hooks. Though they didn’t need light for this spell, since it was invisible, it was nevertheless a hard one to demonstrate, for they were in constant motion and there was no solid wall at which to throw the hooks—only Gorgrun’s cloudlike body. After casting, they’d have to get down on their knees and slide their hands from side to side, looking for the hook. And though the old dragon didn’t seem to mind being struck with spells, they were still difficult to find after a successful throw.

  Next Thisbe pulled her precious components from her pockets. She only had a few left. But knowing she’d be able to stock up again once she reached Artimé, she quickly went through the specifications for each spell, including the verbal component for each—being careful, of course, not to teach any lethal iterations of the spells. She demonstrated scatterclips, using Rohan as a fake enemy and sending him flying past Maiven and sticking into the back of Gorgrun’s neck. Rohan went so deep into the pillowy softness that he almost disappeared, and for a moment in the darkness Thisbe worried that he’d flown completely off the dragon’s back. But she didn’t hear a splash, and he soon shouted for help, so Thisbe quickly located him and showed the others how to release a spell. Rohan emerged from the ethereal dragon skin and began to breathe more easily.

  With their first full day of slower-than-usual travel behind them, Maiven studied late into the night by candlelight. Thisbe’s worries quickly resurfaced. She found herself dwelling on Fifer, hoping she was okay, and wondering what she might say to her when they met again. Was Fifer as angry with Thisbe as Thisbe had been with her? Should she wait for Fifer to apologize for being weird and awful? Because Fifer was the one who’d basically caused all the problems between them—at least that was how Thisbe felt. Relationships were hard, even with identical twins. Thisbe stared at the sky, trying to sort her jumbled thoughts and ease her mind.

  The other black-eyed teenagers went to sleep, knowing that the next day they needed to train even more. Soon they would arrive in a strange land and might need their hastily learned skills to break up a civil war.

  Civil War

  The sun rose in Artimé, revealing that Frieda Stubbs and her supporters had clearly lost their minds. They were slowly but surely destroying the mansion and the property surrounding it, and terrorizing the Artiméans who didn’t join them in their way of thinking.

  Fifer Stowe was certainly losing her mind too, watching what Frieda’s people were doing and knowing all of this was happening in the name of her dead brother, Alex… and her living one, Aaron. After watching from afar on the Island of Legends following a trip to Warbler to research Queen Eagala’s past, Fifer and Sky set out for the shore of Artimé in Scarlet’s skiff. They’d hesitated to return, knowing Fifer’s life was in danger after Frieda Stubbs’s reckless threats. But they couldn’t stay away while their friends were in the midst of the fight. They sat in the boat for a few moments, taking in the puzzling and frightening scene, looking for allies, and trying to decide how best to go about helping.

  One of the worst parts of it all was how disorganized and muddled everything seemed to be. Fifer had experienced and led battles before, and it had always been obvious who the enemy was. Whether it was the green- and blue-uniformed soldiers or the Revinir herself, there was no mistaking friend or foe. But here? There were no identifying uniforms. No line drawn down the middle of Artimé’s lawn separating the Frieda Stubbs supporters from the Aaron Stowe supporters, so that people could see who stood with whom.

  There was definitely a visible small contingent on the lawn that Fifer and Sky knew they could trust: Aaron Stowe, the Ranger-Holiday family, Samheed and Lani Burkesh-Haluki. Henry and Thatcher Haluki and their children, Ibrahim and Clementi and the rest. Sky’s brother, Crow, and Scarlet from Warbler. And Claire Morning and Gunnar Haluki from Quill. Statues Florence and Ms. Octavia, of course. But where was Simber? And who else was with them? What methods were they using to determine who to attack? Maybe they were merely defending themselves and going solely after Frieda Stubbs.

  “Do you see her?” Sky asked, holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the bright sunrise and peering at the mansion and lawn.

  “Who do you mean?” asked Fifer. “Frieda?”

  “Yes.”

  “All I can see,” said Fifer angrily, “is our precious mansion being torn to shreds by people who have clearly become an unruly and dangerous mob. It’s bad enough when I go around breaking all the windows accidentally. But this is a brawl, inside and out. Look there, through the front windows. Dining chairs scattered in the entryway, glass everywhere, statues hobbling around with broken limbs.” She shook her head. “Where do we start?”

  “I could really use a weapon,” Sky said. She didn’t use much magic. “I’m feeling pretty vulnerable here without one. I have my dagger,” she said, patting the sheath at her hip, “but I think a sword would be a little more helpful.”

  “Samheed keeps tons of extra swords in the theater—all the ones that used to belong to the pirates that you fought off years ago. Shall we try to get there?” Fifer eyed the path to the mansion. “I think we have a decent chance if we can make it to the tubes.”

  The three main tubes in the mansion weren’t too far inside the entryway. They were positioned to the right of the staircase, on the wall between the hospital ward and the dining room. There was no telling what or who would be blocking Fifer and Sky’s path to them, though. “Let’s go for it,” said Sky, swinging a leg over the edge of the boat and dangling it above the shallow water. “Right now, before the doorway gets blocked.”

  Fifer nodded. “I’ll lead in case we get attacked.” She checked her vest pockets for components, then climbed out of the skiff. Sky hopped out right behind her. Fifer used a magical anchor on the boat, and the two sloshed the short distance to land, hoping the dissenters were too busy being horrible to notice them. Keeping their heads down, they snaked between skirmishes and made it to the main entrance of the mansion. Fifer pushed open the door and peered inside, with Sky looking over her shoulder. They both gasped at the ruinous mess.

  The black-and-white marble floors were covered with debris. Chandeliers had crashed to the floor, and the tiki statue was pinned beneath one of them. The bannisters leading up the elegant staircase were broken in places and hanging precariously. The two heavy marble pedestals, which Florence and Simber sometimes stood upon to keep an eye on everything on both floors, were toppled over and cracked. In the dining room, tables were upended, and there was broken glass everywhere. The hospital ward was teeming with walking wounded, but no one was there to help them.

  “Oh dear,” whispered Fifer, moving inside. “Quick—let’s free the tiki.” She and Sky ran for the poor statue, whose top head had a nasty gash in the wood. Together they lifted the fixture off him and shoved it aside, then helped him up to his base.

  “Thank you,” said the tiki. He shuddered, and tiny bits of glass from the chandelier fell off his head.

  “Florence should be able to fix your injury once things settle down,” Fifer told him.

  “Is it very bad?” the statue asked, turning all six of his eyes toward the gash but not quite able to see it.

  “Oh yes,” Fifer assured him, for she knew the tiki statue was quite dramatic. “You’ll have a big story to tell the others.”

  Rattled, yet pleased, the statue nodded his appreciation. He moved away and into Ms. Octavia’s classroom to hide.

  Through the broken windows, Fifer could hear Frieda Stubbs on the lawn bellowing to anyone who would listen. “The Revini
r is an enormous, evil, dragon-monster, as big as a real dragon!” she shouted, even though she’d never seen the Revinir and had no idea of her size. “She killed our beloved Alex Stowe, and now she’s after the rest of the Stowe siblings. I drove her away once before, but I’m warning you—she’ll return and come after all of us if you don’t listen to me!”

  Fifer and Sky exchanged sickened glances. Frieda had clearly taken her fearmongering up a notch in the days since they’d last been here. And despite Frieda’s dubious claims, people were listening. Fifer scanned the area quickly, then started toward the tubes. “We’ll deal with her after we have weapons. Come on. These tubes seem unharmed.”

  Sky followed.

  Once inside the first one, though, Fifer discovered all the buttons had been smashed to bits, as if someone had taken a magical sledgehammer and assigned it to the control panel. There was one person she could think of who had a fondness for that new component: Frieda Stubbs. She’d used several of them to break down a wall in her apartment in order to make it bigger after she became head mage.

  Fifer moved to check the middle tube and saw the same thing had happened to it. “Oh no,” she breathed. “What is Frieda trying to do?”

  “Here,” said Sky, going to the third one. “This one looks intact. Thank goodness.” She stepped in, making room for Fifer so they could stick together, and pushed the button that would take them to the theater. In an instant they were swept into quiet darkness, and in another instant they were inside the dimly lit auditorium.

  Fifer exited the tube and looked up, expecting to see hundreds of swords and other weapons lining the walls, like they’d been for as long as Fifer could remember. But all the weapons were gone—not a single one remained. “Wh-what?” she sputtered, looking all around. “Where are they?”