Chapter Eleven

THE NEXT MORNING THEY GATHERED RIGHT after breakfast in the Great Hall, where Leif was waiting with piles of supplies—food and bedding packed into big bags that were easy for a dragon to lift.

Isabina, the Finskól’s resident mechanical genius, was standing and talking to the Drekleid. Her slender frame was nearly hidden beneath the long coils of rope she was carrying, slung crosswise over her body, her tangle of curly brown hair sticking out the top, and her legs out the bottom. It wasn’t until Anders got closer that he saw it wasn’t rope, but long strips of leather, some parts padded with what looked like fleece.

“Oh, there you are,” Isabina said, craning her head to see over the top of the leather rope. She had her usual smudge of grease on her nose. “Ellukka mentioned that you and Lisabet thought harnesses might be a good idea, so you have something to hold on to when you and Lisabet are riding Ellukka and Rayna.”

Anders blinked. The first time Lisabet had raised that particular idea, Ellukka had nearly gone through the roof. And now she’d been asking Isabina about it? “Is . . . is that what that is?” he asked, holding his hands out in an offer to relieve Isabina of some of her burden.

“Yes, I thought we might as well trial them today,” she said. “It’s not really my field, because there aren’t any mechanics involved, but it’s still an interesting design challenge. Oh, good morning, Ellukka! I’ve got the harnesses ready.”

Lisabet was just arriving with Ellukka, and she joined Anders in shooting the blond dragon a surprised look.

“No need to make a big deal out of it,” Ellukka muttered, crossing over to an empty space where she could transform. “It would be inconvenient if you fell off, is all.” She dropped to a crouch, changing before either of the wolves had a chance to reply. Or worse, Anders suspected, to thank her for being so considerate.

He and Lisabet helped Isabina wrap the first harness around Ellukka—they both knew they’d better learn how to do it, in case they wanted to make any trips without adult permission—and then the second around Rayna. It was a simple but clever design, crisscrossing under the dragons’ forearms and across their chests.

Anders and Lisabet had leather belts to wear, which had straps that clipped into the harnesses, meaning they couldn’t fall off even if they let go. They also had proper handholds now, which Anders much preferred to grabbing hold of Rayna’s neck ridges and hoping he didn’t hurt her.

“There,” said Isabina, tightening a buckle for Ellukka. “Nod once if it feels comfortable, and twice if it doesn’t.”

Ellukka nodded once and crouched a little, inviting Lisabet to use her front leg as a stepladder to climb up onto her back, and Isabina turned her attention to Rayna.

Rayna and Ellukka launched once they had their passengers aboard, and they circled in the crisp air outside Drekhelm, waiting as one by one the rest of the class launched themselves out the huge, dragon-size double doors. Ferdie was gliding along near Bryn, who had been allowed to come despite her trip to the infirmary before, but as the Finskólar medic, it was clear he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Nearer, Anders could see that Ellukka and Lisabet were testing out the straps, taking some sharp turns, working together to see just how secure they were.

A couple of weeks ago, Ellukka had been ready to spit-roast him and Lisabet on the side of the mountain below them. Now, they were . . . there was only one word for it. They were friends. They weren’t just working together—they liked and trusted one another. Ellukka had wanted to make sure Lisabet could fly with her safely.

It was the first time Anders had really thought about it, and though it didn’t stop him aching for his friends at Ulfar Academy, he knew now that he had added Ellukka and Mikkel and Theo to his list of friends. Bryn and Isabina and Ferdie as well. He wasn’t just doing all this to try and stop a battle. He was doing it to keep the people he cared about safe.

Eventually everyone was aloft, some with the big bags of supplies dangling from one foot, and they formed up behind Leif to wheel away toward the northwest. It was to be a long flight to Flic Waterfall, made a little longer by the need to detour and avoid any populated areas.

To their right rose the highest mountain he’d ever seen—the top of it was completely shrouded in mist. This must be Cloudhaven, the legendary, forbidden home of the first dragonsmiths.

Eventually they left its hidden peak behind, and beyond it Anders caught a glimpse of the red roofs of the village of High Rikkel, nestled on a plateau almost as high as some of the mountain peaks. Tiny spires of smoke rose from faraway chimneys, and he wondered what the people living there were doing at the start of their day, whether they were thinking about the wolves or the dragons, or the battle that might come. Whether anyone from the village would make the long trek to Holbard for the Trial of the Staff this month, to test their wolf blood. Whether any of them carefully hid their dragon blood or had secret dragon family members. They seemed so isolated out here, but though he wasn’t even sure if they’d know if a battle took place in Drekhelm or in Holbard, the fight between the dragons and the wolves touched everyone in Vallen.

They flew over golden-green valleys, long rivers snaking through them with twists and turns, the water dashing itself on rocks in some places, so deep and fast in others that it looked still from the air.

And eventually, the wild Westlands Mountains rose up ahead of them. The Westlands were famous for being the fiercest, the most remote, and the most dangerous mountains in Vallen. Storms whipped through them all winter long, and sometimes during the summer as well. On the far side of them lay the inhospitable northwest coast of Vallen, where few ships dared pass.

Today, though, the sky above was a clear blue, and the snow on the mountains looked soft and gentle, as if it would be a comfortable place to rest. Leif tilted one wing and began to angle in on a valley at the edge of the mountains, and Anders looked over Rayna’s shoulder to try and make out where they were heading.

At first, the waterfall was so huge that he didn’t realize that’s what it was. When he understood what he was seeing, he gasped. The wide river surfaced from the mouth of an underground cave and ran along the top of a long plateau like a ribbon laid out in a gently winding path. Then it abruptly reached the edge of the mountain and tumbled hundreds of yards, landing on a series of ledges and pouring off each one in turn, so that the white, frothing mass looked like a layer cake, each section a little larger and more spread out than the one before.

At its base, it spread down to a huge pool, almost the size of the harbor in Holbard—a lake, really. Three great rivers branched away from it, as well as dozens of small silvery streams. It was incredibly beautiful but intimidatingly large, considering the size of the scepter they were hunting for.

Leif headed unerringly for a spot at the base of the cliffs, to the left of the waterfall, where a meadow provided a perfect landing place. The dragons wheeled in as a group to land, and as soon as Rayna and Ellukka hit the ground, Anders and Lisabet set to work pulling off their harnesses, so they could transform back to girls without finding themselves tangled up in anything.

It was only once Rayna was free of all the leather straps that Anders had a chance to step back and really look around. And from the ground, the view was even more extraordinary than it had been from the air.

All around the edge of the lake bloomed the most incredible collection of flowers—he saw the usual white, yellow, and red blooms he was used to finding on the rooftops of Holbard, but as he made his way along the water’s edge, he found plant after plant he’d never seen before.

There was a tree with huge, drooping limbs wreathed in purple blossoms, hanging down so low that they dipped in the edge of the water. There were smaller trees with sharp, green, spiky leaves, and red . . . he supposed they were flowers, though really, they looked like red-bristled scrubbing brushes, bundles of hundreds of red strands protruding from the stems in every direction, each ending with a small, yellow pod the size of a pin’s head.

This must be the genius of the dragonsmith Flic, who had found ways to make this place hospitable for plants from all over the world, using both mechanical creations and cleverly designed artifacts, bringing them warmth or water or whatever else they needed.

When he looked back, some of the class were still in dragon form, basking in the sun on the grass and rebuilding a little strength after the taxing flight. Deep underneath them there must be lava. Other students had already transformed and were digging through their packs in search of lunch.

They all spent the rest of the afternoon doing as they pleased. Anders would have liked to start exploring for the scepter right away, but there was never a chance to do anything without being watched—Krissin or Nico seemed to find a way to be near them more often than not, and whenever he did shake them, someone else would show up. Ferdie, with his infectious smile and easy manner, wanting to check that everyone was having a good time. Patrik, wanting help carrying his art supplies to the place he’d chosen to paint.

Ellukka and Mikkel had stories and history to share, and Anders and Lisabet sat and listened to all of it, allowing themselves a rest, enjoying their friends’ cleverness. It was a welcome reprieve from their constant attempts to solve riddles and stay one step ahead of the looming conflict. It was good to just be friends for an hour or two.

Eventually, before bed, the two of them slipped into wolf form, stretching their legs for a long run across the open meadow around the base of the waterfall.

Just as it had at the Skylake, tearing across the grass felt glorious. They bounded together to the far end of the meadow, matching strides, and when they reached the point where they had to turn around and return, Lisabet leaped on Anders, sending him rolling over and over, then running away before he could retaliate. But even in wolf form he was lankier than her, and he howled as he chased her down to return the favor.

There was a joy in running that he yearned for when he wasn’t doing it, and he reveled in when he could. It was the most perfect way to be, he thought.

But when they returned to the camp, he was abruptly reminded that they were two wolves in the company of eleven dragons. Their friends didn’t seem to notice that they’d transformed, but some of the others—Ferdie, Isabina, Patrik, Bryn—had never seen them transform before, and they were all openly staring. Perhaps they’d never seen any wolf transform before. Nico and Krissin had their arms folded, making their disapproval clear.

Anders pushed himself back into human form, Lisabet a moment behind, and the silence dragged out.

Then Ellukka looked up, rolled her eyes, and stood up. “It’s just a different kind of transformation,” she said, speaking slowly and carefully, as if everyone needed an explanation. “It’s not like you haven’t seen someone change shape before.”

Ferdie’s manners kicked in first, and he shook himself. “Right,” he said, though he was still looking at Anders and Lisabet. “Sorry, of course. Shall we find some wood to make a fire?”

Everyone broke up after that and set to work, but there was a lingering sense of unease that took a long time to dissipate. It was a reminder for Anders that even if he forgot it from time to time, he was still a wolf among dragons, and most of them never lost sight of that even for a moment.

Dinner dragged on, and it seemed to take hours for everyone to finally be ready for bed. The moon was high, and the sky was clear, which meant it was a crisp, cold night. By the time the dragons finally bedded down around the fire, the stars were twinkling overhead.

Most of the class transformed to dragons to sleep—it was warmer and easier than bringing blankets to wrap up in as humans—but Rayna stayed in human shape, curling up under a blanket between Ellukka’s forearms. She wanted to be ready to creep away with Anders and Lisabet, and it would be easier to go unnoticed if she was smaller. Anders and Lisabet changed to their wolf forms under cover of darkness and curled up in furry balls just outside the firelight’s edge.

Eventually, when nobody had said anything for what felt like at least an hour, and Patrik and Leif were both softly snoring, Anders made his move. He whined almost inaudibly to let Lisabet know he was moving and rose silently to his feet. Rayna must have been watching, because as the two wolves padded away from the class, she crawled free of her blanket and stood to hurry quietly after them.

It didn’t take long until they were at the edge of the lake, looking up at the waterfall. The sound of the water crashing on the rock would easily drown out the sound of conversation, and invigorated by the cold of the water, Anders pushed himself back into human form, Lisabet following a moment later.

“It’s freezing,” Rayna said, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” said Lisabet, drawing in a lungful of cold air, her head tipped back in pleasure, just like a wolf sniffing the breeze.

“I can think of other words,” Rayna told her. “Right, where do we hunt?”

“I think it’s behind the waterfall,” said Anders.

Her eyes widened in horror. “Are you certain? I’m not sure I can walk through water that cold.”

“The riddle makes it sound that way,” he said. “It says ‘straight through the ice-cold veil,’ that sounds like it’s through the water. And then it says ‘where rót meets rock,’ so perhaps if there are plants with roots behind the waterfall . . .”

Rayna shivered. “Ugh. This is going to be horrible. The waterfall’s so wide, and there are so many layers leading up. Drifa could have hidden it anywhere.”

“She probably thought you’d know what she knew about the waterfall,” Lisabet said. “Remember, the Sun Scepter isn’t the only artifact the map can locate. It would have taken her a long time to hide all her artifacts around Vallen. Perhaps she sensed a battle was coming, but she must also have done it before . . .” She trailed off, then continued, soft and apologetic. “Before your father was killed. So she didn’t know yet that she wasn’t going to raise you. She might not even have known you existed yet.”

It was a sad, sobering thought, and all three of them were quiet as they walked in closer to the waterfall.

“I think we should try it in wolf form,” Anders said, making himself sound businesslike. “It’ll be too cold for us if we’re humans, we won’t last very long. And we’ll see better as wolves, anyway.”

Rayna’s teeth were already chattering, and she held out one hand to test the water, then yanked it back. “Snowmelt,” she said, shivering. “Anders, I don’t think I can go in there. I already feel like I’m thinking at half speed, and if I get soaked to the bone going through the water . . .”

Her voice was a mix of upset and apology, and she turned away, walking a few steps, then swinging abruptly back toward them. “I could do it if I could breathe icefire,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said, aware of just how unhelpful he’d found those words, when he’d been the one who couldn’t throw an ice spear.

“I’m trying so hard!” Rayna’s frustration burst to the surface. “I’ve tried so many times, before you came and since. And it just doesn’t happen, nothing comes! If I could throw it I’d be some use if there’s a fight, and I’d be able to walk through the waterfall with you right now, and . . .”

She trailed off, and he wrapped his arms around her without thinking, squeezing her in a hug. He couldn’t remember Rayna ever saying this before—that she couldn’t do something. And I’d probably have panicked if she had, he admitted to himself. But now, he felt surer.

“It will show up,” he promised, hoping he was right.

“What if it doesn’t? What if I can’t do it?” she whispered.

Lisabet answered, her tone as matter-of-fact as if she was reading from a book. “Of course you can,” she said.

Anders and Rayna both looked across at her, Rayna sniffing inside the circle of his arms.

Lisabet shrugged. “You inherited the ability to transform,” she said. “If you were going to be a regular human, that’s what you’d be. But you’re a dragon. And a dragon who coincidentally can’t breathe fire, the same way Anders couldn’t throw ice? Your gift is in there, Rayna. It’s just taking its time to show.”

Rayna was quiet, and then she nodded. “I guess it’ll show,” she murmured, sounding a little more certain than she had before. “I just wish it would hurry up. We don’t have time to waste.” Then, as she always did, she turned purposeful. “You should both go,” she said.

Anders gave her a squeeze and stepped back. “If anyone wakes up and wonders where we are, just say we went running. Wolves prefer to be awake at night anyway, Leif will know that.”

She nodded. “Good luck,” she said, stepping back into the dark and turning for camp.

Anders and Lisabet watched her go, then turned back toward the waterfall, staring up at it. “This is going to be cold, even for us,” Lisabet said. “How does your new thing with the heat and cold work?”

“The heat doesn’t bother me the way it used to,” he said. “I still get hot, but it doesn’t make me feel slow and awful. Sometimes it even feels nice. The cold always feels good.”

“Well, even we can still get too cold,” Lisabet said. “So let’s be quick. We’ll have to hope there’s some kind of ledge behind the water, somewhere we can walk along. If we have to walk through the water for long, we’ll be swept down into the lake.”

“Let’s try the lowest level first,” Anders said. “Then we can try the next one up if we have to.”

They slipped into wolf form, both full of energy, brought alive by the freezing-cold spray on the air—it felt like breathing in cold itself, and aches and pains and slowness Anders hadn’t even known he was feeling slipped delightfully away.

He was a little taller than Lisabet in wolf form, just as he was in human form, so he went first. He approached the edge of the waterfall slowly, peering through the torrent to try and see if there was anything behind it. He needed a ledge, or even a cave, so the waterfall didn’t knock him down into the lake. If they were right, and this was where the next piece of the scepter was hidden, then there had to be something behind the water. The riddle said he had to go through. He couldn’t tell, and after a long moment’s hesitation he simply plunged in.

There was no ledge behind it.

His claws scraped against slippery, mossy stone, and the water landed on him like a pile of rocks, shoving him straight down into the lake. He banged his side against the steep, jagged stone on the way down, and then the force of the water falling from above was pushing him down, down, down. Icy water was wrapping around his lungs, and without the sun above him, he had no way of knowing which way was up and which was down.

He desperately held his breath, lungs burning, and swam as hard as he could, hoping against hope he was heading for the surface. Then his throat clamped and closed, forcing his mouth open to drag in a lungful that was half water, half air. He coughed and spluttered, but his next breath was more air and less water, and as he blinked his eyes, treading water with flailing limbs, he realized he’d found the surface.

Lisabet had jumped in after him and was just swimming up, ears pricked forward, worry all over her face. She lifted her muzzle in a gesture he instantly understood. Swim for the other side.

He wasn’t sure why she wanted him to head over there, but he obediently turned and struck out for the far shore—it wasn’t so far to swim, just a little way from the base of the waterfall. Farther out, the lake got much wider. He was still coughing as he dragged himself up onto the rocky shore, water streaming from his sodden coat, tail clamped between his legs.

Lisabet climbed up beside him and they each gave themselves a shake, shedding a little of the water. No ledge? she asked.

No ledge, he confirmed. Maybe from this side?

That’s what I was hoping, she agreed.

They were both considerably slower and more careful as they explored this side, but this time they didn’t have to poke their heads through the water to be sure there was no space behind the waterfall. They’d have to try farther up.

The incline next to the waterfall was so steep as to be nearly a cliff, rough and rocky, tufts of determined grass clinging to it. But as Anders scrambled up the first few feet, sinking his claws into every available handhold, he found a thick, glossy green vine hanging down from somewhere above. He didn’t remember seeing it during the day—it must have blended into the cliff. He grabbed a mouthful of it to help pull himself up, and then nearly let go in surprise. All up and down the vine, tiny lights had come alive in response to his touch—little white flowers no larger than a pea, unfurling their petals and seeming to reflect the moonlight back at the sky, undulating slowly, as if they were underwater.

He climbed very carefully past them and heard Lisabet whine her surprise as she came up behind him. They followed the path of moonflowers up two tall layers of rock, and Anders felt his excitement building. He’d never seen these moonflowers before, or even heard a whisper of something like them. Could this be something Flic had taught to live here?

His legs were trembling with effort when he reached the second ledge, the water thundering down just past his nose, the moonflowers still gently glowing by his tail. They went no higher, though—the vine seemed to disappear behind the curtain of water.

If there wasn’t room back there, and Anders was swept off by the waterfall again, it would be a brutal fall. The kind of fall that could kill a wolf. But he had to take the risk. He growled a low warning to Lisabet to stay well clear, took a deep breath, and plunged in.

And he came out the other side into a perfect garden.

To his left, the torrent of water was still pouring down, filling the air with crisp, cool spray that danced before him. And hidden behind the curtain was a large, round cave. It should have been completely dark, but the moonflower vines snaked all around the walls, softly illuminating the room. Some of them seemed to be growing on some sort of metal lattice, and he shook the water from his coat, then padded over to stand up on his hind legs, pressing his front paws against the wall. There were runes engraved all along the lattice, and it was slightly warm to the touch. These artifacts must have lasted the five centuries or more since Flic had first made this place. They must be why such incredible plants grew here.

He heard a soft whine behind him and turned to see Lisabet, who had followed him through the waterfall after he didn’t emerge and was staring slack-jawed at the cave. She walked over to join him, standing up to look at the artifacts. I’ve never seen anything so old, she said without words, but with a tilt of her ears, soft whines, and intakes of breath. Every move was tiny in wolf form, but he’d never seen her so excited.

He dropped down, nosing through the flowers at the base of the vines. They must get some light through the waterfall during the day, for they were all facing that way, their dark petals closed against the night just now. How did it last? he asked her, following the edge of the cave around, finding a small bush with berries that glowed a deep red, and then a pale moss that lit up when his paws touched it.

Perhaps Drifa came here to make sure it did, Lisabet replied, when he turned back to look at her.

Anders’s breath caught. He imagined his mother—who he couldn’t picture at all, except as a dragon, and he didn’t even know what color her scales had been—coming here, one in a long line of dragonsmiths who had come to maintain the work of Flic, who had gone before. This place was worth that kind of effort. And being here, somewhere she had been, made him feel connected to her. It made him miss her, even though he’d only just found out who she was.

Let’s look for the scepter, said Lisabet, picking the other direction to the one Anders had taken and hunting around the edge of the cave. He mentally shook himself and returned to his own search, using his nose to try and sniff out anything that didn’t smell like a plant, anything that didn’t quite fit. He soon caught a whiff of oiled wood, and pushed himself hurriedly back into human form, brushing aside the vines at that section of the wall. “Lisabet, look!”

It was a huge, stout wooden door, banded across with metal—engraved with more runes—and most definitely locked.

Lisabet shifted back to a girl beside him. “I really hope she wasn’t expecting you to have the key,” she said.

Anders hoped so too, feeling all around the edge of the door and going up on his toes to feel along the top of the rim. He had an inkling Drifa wouldn’t have left it quite that much to chance. After all, she wouldn’t have left a map that gave them clues if she didn’t want them to be able to find what they were looking for.

“I wonder how she got in here,” Lisabet mused as she watched him. “It would be difficult to climb the waterfall in human form. She and Flic must have wanted to very badly.”

Anders’s fingers closed over a cylinder at the top of the doorway’s arch, and he tugged it loose from where it was woven into the vines. It was wrapped in the same waxed canvas as the first half of the scepter had been, and his hands were shaking in excitement as he pulled the string away. A moment later, the dim light of the moonflowers revealed a second section of the Sun Scepter, dark wood wrapped with engraved metal bands. “Got it,” he said, squeezing it tight. “But,” he continued, as realization sank in, “it’s not big enough to be the rest of it.”

“Two pieces down,” Lisabet agreed. “I was sort of hoping there’d only be two pieces, but I think we’ll have to keep searching. Looking at the size of what we have so far, comparing it to the Staff of Hadda, I’ll bet my tail there are two more pieces to go.”

Anders thought of the tall, worn wooden staff used to test whether those with wolf blood could make their transformation and join Ulfar. She was right—it had been taller than he was.

“We’ll find the others,” he said confidently, buoyed by success. “All we need is time. Let’s get back to Rayna, and see if the map has another clue for us.”

There was no real way down except to jump from the waterfall, and though Anders would have preferred to do it in human form to hold on tight to the piece of the scepter, he couldn’t afford to soak all his clothes. So he transformed back into his wolf form and picked the piece up, gripping it experimentally in his jaws. It tingled a tiny bit, just the way his amulet had the first time he’d put it on, or the purse had when he’d held it, as if the essence inside was tickling his skin, and then it subsided.

He and Lisabet exchanged a nervous glance. They’d have to take the waterfall at a run, to be sure they could jump all the way through it and come as far as possible out the other side, landing clear of the tumbling water at the bottom. It went against all his common sense to charge a waterfall and leap out into the air, but he backed up as far as he could and readied himself.

Lisabet looked back at the wooden door. We’ll come back one day, she said with a soft, determined growl. And see all the amazing things behind that door.

And then, side by side, they ran toward the waterfall as fast as they could, leaping from the edge of the rock.

The waterfall pummeled Anders breathless as he flew through it, and he closed his eyes tight as he arced out toward the water, landing with a splash at the bottom and sinking down, down, down. His mouth was forced open by the piece of the scepter, and water wanted to pour in, but this time he was sure which way was up, and he used all four legs to propel himself. Lisabet, being lighter, had surfaced quicker, and she was treading water and waiting for him. Together, they struck out for shore.

They were careful returning to camp—they rolled in the grass until their coats were dry, and Lisabet signaled with a flick of her ears that she’d creep ahead of Anders to make sure the coast was clear. If anyone saw her, she would shift to her human form and speak loudly to give him warning.

He lay still as she slunk forward, her belly close to the ground. Her fur was so dark it was almost black, and she was nearly invisible in the night. When all was silent after a minute, he crept in after her. She was sitting with Rayna between Ellukka’s forelegs, the dragon looming over the pair of them and looking down at Anders with interest. It was a bit intimidating, what with the size of her eyes.

Rayna had the map ready, and Anders quickly transformed back into human form, then crouched down to touch the piece of the scepter to it. By the firelight, they all saw the knotwork around the edge of the map shift and wriggle and form the words they were expecting.

Lisabet leaned in and read them in a whisper.

“They might be crumbs, or scattered jewels,

For wolves they’re home to mighty strength.

Through spray so high and wind so cruel,

Go search along the shortest length.”

Everyone stared down at the map. Eventually Rayna spoke. “What?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lisabet admitted.

“It sounds like somewhere wolves like,” Anders whispered. “Somewhere on a coastline, if there’s spray, maybe? Does that sound familiar, Lisabet?”

With an apologetic expression, she shook her head. “Maybe Hayn can help. Or if he can’t, he has the whole library, he can research it for us.”

“Right.” Anders relaxed. Their uncle would know how to find out where wolves felt strong, or found strength, or . . . whatever the riddle meant.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Rayna said quietly. “Long flight in the morning.” And then, after a pause: “Good work, you two.”

Above them, Ellukka rumbled soft agreement.

“Thanks,” said Anders, smiling at Lisabet. “It was pretty amazing. We’ll all go back someday, when the sun’s out and the weather’s warmer.”

“But for now,” Lisabet said, “Rayna’s right, we should rest.”

They all settled down in the firelight, Anders with the map and the scepter piece tucked inside his cloak. He curled up beside Rayna, just as they had all their lives, tangled together beneath a blanket, as if they were once more hiding in an attic or stable, rather than sleeping beside a waterfall between a dragon’s forelegs.

And as the stars twinkled gently above them, one by one they each fell asleep.