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DRAGON AIRWAYS. STAY clear of the pointy bits.
—Tuck, dragon groom
* * *
TIME SLOWED. EMMET moved beneath the enormous table, making his way toward what looked like a shrine. It called to him, just as the dagger had but far more loudly. The rest of the world faded away. Only the key and the altar existed. He understood now. Everything became clear. The other people in the room moved in slow motion, and Emmet took his chance. All his life he'd yearned for magic, and finally it was before him in all its glory. A foot of rock stood in the way, but he had the key. Though it possessed magic of its own, the key was but a gateway to the real thing.
Not hesitating, Emmet placed the golden artifact within the impression that had waited a thousand years to receive it. The fit was close and clean. Torches, their flames dancing slowly, illuminated gray liquid in an intricate glass vessel on one side of the altar and clear liquid on the other. Those apparatuses fed long necks embedded in stone.
The key seated fully. A bright flash and a loud pop made Emmet cover his eyes. Pungent smoke drifted in tendrils above the altar. The liquids drained from the glassworks into the rock wall, the gray liquid forming a sparkling vortex, as if the liquid were somehow metallic. Nothing happened at first, but then a low grinding sound that Emmet could feel in the soles of his feet emanated from stone. It grew louder over time, and finally the granite altar moved. The thick slab retracted into the wall with agonizing slowness. Inside, a glistening object shone. Before anyone else could get close enough to see, Emmet slipped his hand inside, grabbed the gleaming object, and stashed it in his coat.
Inexorably the altar slid open, and soon the men reached him, pulling him back until time compressed once again. Everything happened at once, and Emmet curled into a ball, waiting for it to pass.
* * *
RIETTE WATCHED IN HORROR as Emmet triggered some kind of reaction at the altar. He'd been right all along. She had doubted him but he'd known. Each realization made Riette feel worse. Her brother had gifts, and she had purposefully overlooked them. Now she saw him through new eyes, even while trying to figure out how to save him. Slipping under the table, she followed the same path he'd taken and grabbed him by the jacket while the rest of the people in the room focused on the altar. He did not resist; instead, he followed her back to where they had been standing.
Feeling impotent and afraid, all Riette could think of to do was stand still and pretend nothing had happened. It was a stupid plan, which made her furious with herself. Tears would not be contained, making her even angrier.
"I'm sorry," Tuck said.
Riette glared at him, filled with rage. He recoiled. She was proud of herself for not speaking. Had she done so, someone would surely have noticed how extensive her vocabulary was. Instead, the altar's contents entranced them. Riette couldn't see from where she stood, and her imagination reeled with possibilities. General Katch had one of his men retrieve an item from within the altar, and everyone held their breath when he reached inside, hoping the tales of treasure guarded with traps were not true in this case.
Perhaps the key had disarmed any traps or none had ever existed, but the man pulled his hand free to a chorus of relief. A small wooden box covered in gold filigree rested in his palm, and at the general's nod, he opened the serpent-shaped clasp. Riette stood on her toes, trying to get a look at what was inside, but her view was blocked. Eventually she was able to glimpse a pair of clear gemstones. One was clear, at least. The other was streaked with white.
"Cache stones," Al'Drakon said with a hint of reverence. He did not admit Barabas had brought something of real value, but he did take a long look at Emmet. It made Riette shiver. So many emotions and so much stress ran through her, she thought she might crack.
This was not the first time she and Emmet had faced death, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance. He had a glazed look in his eyes, and she wasn't certain he could hear her at the moment, but she knew he was in there. He'd always been there. It had been impossible for Riette to understand why he did some of the things he did. His actions and words had made her life difficult at times, and she had resented that, but now she felt a great deal more. It went so much deeper. He was her brother, and she needed to help him. All his ramblings about magic had been real. Finally she knew what she had to do. Her purpose was clear. She would find a way to get him whatever magic he needed.
"Now let us go," she said loudly and in her firmest tone. "My brother has given you a tremendous gift, and now all we ask is that you let us go."
"You'll be on a flight once the fog lifts in the morning," General Katch said, and no one dared say otherwise. "Take them to guest suites, and see to their needs," the general said to his guards, and the men led Riette, Emmet, Tuck, and Barabas from the room. Every turn made Riette feel more like she was trapped, as if she were being taken deeper into a stone prison. Guards stood watch at each junction. Sneaking out of the hold would be impossible. Even if it were possible, they wouldn't be able to just board a dragon or plane and fly away. Never had she felt so confined and powerless. Emmet, on the other hand, was unafraid. She took strength from his walking calmly beside her, as if taking a stroll through the park.
When the guards stopped before ornate double doors, Riette felt a little safer given the luxury of the accommodations. Steaming baths had already been drawn in stone basins fed by channels cut through solid rock. The place was a marvel, and not all of it was hard and cold. The carpets here were plush and soft. Sleeping pillows of such size and depth Riette had never seen before and the sheets adorning them called to her. Toward the back of the hall was a private chamber, complete with baths and pillow beds . . . and a door. Riette wasted no time claiming the room for her and Emmet, and to her surprise, no one argued.
Not long after she settled into a bath, a knock came at the door. "Some refreshment for the lady and her brother."
Hearing a female voice, Riette allowed the woman to enter. She was so glad she did. The woman had a kind look about her, and she carried a tray laden with the most delightful-looking morsels. Without saying a word, she put down the tray, bowed her head, and left. Riette and Emmet shared the feast until only a few crumbs remained on the tray. Riette didn't know the name of the tangy sparkling drink, but she couldn't get enough. When that, too, was gone, she could no longer keep her eyes open. The rush of the day's events had passed, and now she felt drained. The pillows embraced her like a long-lost friend, and Riette slept.
* * *
"DO NOT SCOLD ME," GENERAL Katch said.
Al'Drakon stared back, implacable. "Then do not do so to me. We've both done what we thought was right." Silence was agreement enough. "I don't like Barabas DeGuiere, but he may have at last done his duty. While it does not forgive his past crimes, I must acknowledge what he's done."
"It's not enough," the general said. "Even if we send our full strength, that little bit of magic will not be enough to conquer someone who's been stockpiling artifacts for years."
"Stockpiling," Al'Drakon said. "All that magic in one place. All we would need is a trigger . . . and to know where exactly the stockpiles are."
"You can't think to take the child into battle!"
"The kid dies either way. My way is just faster," Al'Drakon said. "You think me harsh and crass, but which is better, to leave the boy to starve or to give him a chance at being the greatest hero his people have ever known?"
General Katch rubbed his temples. His life had been reduced to impossible choices. Almost every path led to utter chaos and destruction. No one would win this war. Argus Kind failed to see he was destroying the things he coveted. By conquering the Heights and the Midlands and even all the Jaga, for what the swamp was worth, he rendered it a shell of its former self. Such a waste.
The Midlands were indefensible from naval air strikes. It was a painful truth that gave the general shivers. Never had he thought Zjhon aircraft capable of reaching the Mids, let alone being able to refuel and return. Once they took over the western airfields, only the Heights would remain free, and they were already prisoners within the hollowed mountains.
"What other choice do we have?" asked Al'Drakon.
"I don't like it," the general reiterated.
"I don't like any of this, but if there's even a fraction of a chance we can win this war, then I'm acting on it."
"I won't stand in your way," the general said with a deep sigh.
"That's all the help I need."
"I know," General Katch said. He watched the dragon rider go with deep resignation and overwhelming regret. He was a better man than this. They were better people. But desperate people did things of which they would never have dreamed themselves capable.
Even if the man were correct and succeeded in his audacious plan, it would hardly secure victory. The Zjhon had used very little magic in the war—a war they were clearly winning. If the Drakon failed to destroy all the magic, would the executioner-made-king lash out with every weapon remaining to him? It was a frightening thought. Without the Drakon, the Heights would fall more quickly. After that, not much mattered.
With few choices remaining, General Katch grimly orchestrated final defenses.
* * *
SHADOWS STIRRED IN the darkness, silent but undeniable. Emmet watched a muscular man approach from the direction of what had previously appeared to be solid stone, but the illusion had been destroyed. Riette snored loudly from nearby, masking any noises Al'Drakon might have made. She was so peaceful in that moment, and Emmet was happy for her. This was how he wanted to remember her.
Knowing what was coming, he hoped life for her would be easier without him, even though he knew it wasn't true. To make a sound was to wake Riette and most likely result in her death; she would never let him go without a fight, even one she knew she couldn't win. Emmet could not have that on his conscience. Riette meant everything to him. She'd done for him things no one else would have or could have done. She had endured more than any one person should ever have to.
Dressed in full battle gear, Al'Drakon smiled at Emmet. Somehow they had an understanding. Emmet would help them save the world, and they would be nice to his sister. It was enough. Emmet put on his boots and gathered his things in silence.
The warrior's expression showed both respect and surprise. In the end, he held out his oversized, calloused hand. Emmet took it and quietly walked alongside him. A final glance back to Riette left him with a quivering lip and tears in his eyes. The dragon rider let go of his hand and patted him on the back.
Now that the decision was made and their escape nearly complete, Emmet wanted to get on with it. He understood what they needed of him. He was the child who could sense magic. They wanted him to find magic. It was the one thing he did well.
Most conversations held in his presence operated under the assumption that he did not listen, pay attention, or understand, but he heard everything—experienced everything. Sometimes it was too much, and he wished to forget, but he could not. The bright side was that he was almost always underestimated, and he knew how to use that to his advantage—sometimes. In this case, the fate of everything he knew rested on him and the Drakon. The thought made him feel small and woefully insufficient. To ride with the legendary dragon fighting force was something of which most kids in the Midlands dreamed, but now Emmet Pickette was afraid.
The tunnel ended in a place like nothing he had ever seen. A giant cave opened into the night sky. Stalactites hung down from high above. The cavern floor was mostly smooth except for occasional stalagmite clusters polished into swirling spirals. From one wall, moss crept, slowly taking over. Covered in green, a face carved into the stone spewed clear water from its mouth. A pool formed below, ringed with equally moss-covered stones.
If not for other amazing sights, Emmet might have strayed—the urge to explore was strong. The dragons awaiting them resembled Dashiq except they were bigger and less friendly. They wore saddles similar to what Barabas and Tuck rode in, but there was no buggy strapped to the dragon behind those saddles. Emmet was a little disappointed. These dragons carried a cargo of compressed air and munitions. Emmet presumed there were snacks hidden in there somewhere. He had a few strips of dried meat and some hard cheese but little else. He'd be of little use to these men dead, and he assumed the problem would solve itself.
"Dragon!" Emmet said loudly, his voice echoing through the cavern. By the time Emmet experienced the thought, he knew what Al'Drakon would say.
"Be quiet," the warrior whispered in a growl.
After being strapped in, Emmet didn't have to wait long. The dragon took three steps before launching into the darkness. Fires dotted the landscape below, showing just how close the enemy had come. The large dragon turned away from the lights and soared through darkness like a shadow on the wind.
"What's his name?" Emmet asked while chewing on goodies he'd found in his saddlebags.
"Berigor."
* * *
FOR THE FIRST TIME in a long time, Riette awoke feeling refreshed. Part of her felt the urge to wake up and mind her responsibilities, but she was so comfortable. The pillow bed promised to cradle her for hours to come. The silence coaxed her back to the place between sleeping and dreaming. Whispers and the smell of food tickled her senses, but still she slept. When finally she did wake, the meal had gone cold. Riette's brain was finding it difficult to keep up. Ravenous, she consumed the food before realizing Emmet's bed was empty. For half a second, she thought he might have wandered off, but then she remembered where she was. All the comfort was gone like being dunked in cold water.
"Barabas!" she shouted. "He's gone! You monster, he's gone!"
Tuck arrived a moment later, his face a mask of shock and horror.
When Barabas came into the room, Riette threw the food tray at him. He was no more or less happy than usual. "Hush," he said. "We've got to go after your brother."
"What do you mean, 'go after'?"
"Emmet has left for the Firstland with Al'Drakon," Barabas said.
Tuck remained speechless, looking shocked.
"How could you let him go?"
"I did not know," Barabas said.
"Liar!"
The man nodded and accepted the accusation. "I'm going to find your brother. Do you want to come?"
How could she trust him? Why would she trust him? Because he was the only friend she had. Because no one else here had reason to do anything for her, let alone try to rescue her brother. Whether his words were true or not, Riette reasoned she had no other choice but to accept his help. In the end, if she had to choose based on trust, it would be an easy decision.
When Commander Gerrig arrived, Riette wordlessly turned her anger on him.
"I am very sorry about your brother," he said. "I did not know."
It was a common refrain, and she trusted him no more than she trusted Barabas. She no longer identified Barabas as "the captain." Now she knew who he was deep down: Barabas DeGuiere—traitor.
Commander Gerrig walked to the sleeping chamber she had shared with Emmet, the one she'd chosen because it had seemed like the safest choice. In the back wall, he slid open a secret entrance. The stone was real, but clever engineering allowed it to move as if floating.
Anger and resentment flooded Riette's being. This was how Emmet had been taken from her, but then she also realized her brother must have gone either willingly or by extreme measures. He had not tried to wake her, and she had to cope with not knowing what really happened. Somehow she knew he had gone of his own accord, a brave and noble fool. Feeling like a complete dolt, she followed Barabas through the same halls Emmet had used during his escape, feeling betrayed, abused, and unloved. A hand landed on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Tuck said.
"Get your hands off me, and don't ever touch me again," Riette said. She did not realize the extra insult until after she'd said the words and she continued. "You knew. You knew. You are not my friend."
The words took their toll. Tuck backed away, giving Riette at least some of the space she desired. He deserved it—every word—yet she felt bad for hurting his feelings. What madness had she contracted to be so conflicted about a single person? He was cruel and unforgivably dishonest, yet he had saved her life. He'd been nicer to her than even Brick had ever been. The thought made her shed a tear on her friend's behalf, no matter what had become of him. The way she had left wasn't something of which she was proud.
When they reached a natural orifice in the mountainside, dawn's first blush colored the horizon. A cool breeze whispered of spring, and the world below was blanketed in fog, some of which glowed from within or was burned away completely by massive fires.
"If you fly into the rising sun, you'll have the best chance of avoiding pursuit," Commander Gerrig said, "from either side of the war. No guarantees, though."
His words were chilling. Barabas was so unpopular, he was unwelcome everywhere. In some ways, she pitied the man. It didn't take long to get everyone strapped in, and Commander Gerrig wasted no time in going back the way he'd come. Dashiq did not bother to run; instead, she simply fell from the Heights. Riding the currents above the tree line, she made the act of departing quietly all but impossible. Gritting her teeth was the only way Riette kept from screaming, and she just managed, though her jaws ached. Flying into the sunrise was unpleasant. Crouching low, Riette hid from the intense light.
Few words were said for the rest of the day. Riette did her best to sort through a barrage of feelings. Through that reckoning, no one emerged unscathed, her outlook gloomy. When a stark white line of rock, looking lifeless and sun bleached, appeared in the waters ahead, Riette could think of few less appealing places to take a walk. Even with that in mind, the thought of stretching her aching legs and back was still attractive.
As they drew closer, a few signs of life were apparent. The land had strange trees with domes of hearty leaves atop a myriad of arrow-straight branches sprouting from equally straight trunks. Each one bore scars, though—some fresh, some old. Claw marks raked the white bark, fresh red sap flowing from the more recent wounds. Once they had disembarked, Dashiq went straight to the trees. She was the only one Riette trusted. A dragon could not know the crimes of men, and she had always done her best to keep Riette and Emmet safe. But now Emmet was gone. It was a circular thought pattern, one that brought anger and guilt. She was supposed to have protected her brother, and others had betrayed them both. Trying to chase the thoughts away, she took a much-needed walk.
"Dragon's blood trees," Tuck said from nearby.
"Oh," Riette said, not meeting his gaze.
"The dragons like the sap and use their claws to mark their territory."
"Mm-hmm," Riette said, not looking at him.
"Aw, come on," Tuck said. "You know you're interested. You're just pretending not to be because you're mad at me."
"Mm-hmm."
"Well, I never meant you no harm, and I might've saved your life a time or two, so I think you should forgive me."
"Mm-hmm."
"I didn't know this thing with Emmet would happen," Tuck said with what appeared to be sincerity. "The cap'n didn't neither."
"He doesn't seem to have many friends, this captain of yours," Riette said, not caring if he heard her or not. "Do you ever wonder why that is? Perhaps it's because he's a bumbling idiot."
"Just because he talks funny don't mean he's stupid," Tuck said. "Just like your brother ain't as stupid as you think."
"Don't you use my brother against me!"
"Sorry," Tuck said.
"You say that a lot, you know. Ever wonder why that is?" Tuck did not meet her eyes. "It's because you're a jerk."
"I deserved that one," Tuck said.
"And a lot more."
"And a lot more," he conceded with a sigh. "I didn't mean nothing."
"Anything."
"What?"
"You didn't mean anything," she said, no longer able to resist.
Tuck just shrugged and handed her a cask of wine, which did not hurt his chances for forgiveness. "Don't worry. The gods are with us."
"They are?" Riette asked. "I sure haven't seen them around."
"Ah, but you've seen magic," Tuck said. "And magic is of the gods." He held his hands in the air in a dramatic gesture.
"I've seen tricks and chemistry but not so much magic."
"You sure about that?" Tuck asked, looking sideways at Dashiq. The copper bridgework reconstructing her face was scratched and dented but nonetheless magical. The glass eye remained intact, though it lacked the life seen in her remaining eye. The old dragon chewed the red, sappy wood with one side of her mouth, which was clearly not the natural order, but she managed to squeeze out some of the desired nutrients and medicinal properties Tuck droned on and on about.
Barabas signaled them to load up, already knowing Al'Drakon and the others had stopped there. Fresh claw marks on almost every tree were both evidence of their passing and a not-so-subtle message to Barabas—or perhaps more accurately, Dashiq. The dragon took it upon herself to leave a response. Riette could not imagine how the other dragons would interpret it or even how they felt about Dashiq at all. Were politics and rivalry purely human? Riette suspected not.
"I'm still angry with you," Riette said to Barabas before climbing back aboard. He nodded in acceptance and said nothing while helping her up. Tuck followed and made certain her straps were tight. It was among the reasons Riette couldn't doubt his sincerity in wanting to protect her, but she didn't always trust what he thought was right for her, and that was the rub. It continued to chafe as the journey wore on, always one step behind the Drakon—and her brother.