Rise of the Dragons Page 17

  Ten minutes later, in Lysander’s chamber, Joss found Lysander wide awake after his dragonsong sleep and crooning quietly to himself. He approached with the bone ash bucket, and Lysander spoke to him in a soft, singsong voice: “Harlarla te faa, me soll.”

  Goose bumps run down Joss’s spine at the almost unearthly sound. “Oh, Lysander,” he whispered. “When we’ve left this horrible place, will you teach me dragonsong too please?”

  “Yarilla lo!” Lysander replied, nodding his head. Joss rightly took it as a very definite “yes.”

  Now Joss set about explaining the contents of the bucket to Lysander, which was not, as the dragon had hoped, supper. As he begin to cover Lysander with bone ash, Joss told his Lock the plans for that night while Lysander stayed remarkably still, concentrating hard and giving Joss great confidence. He didn’t think anyone had listened to him with such earnestness before. It was a good feeling. Ten minutes later, the bucket was empty and Joss was rubbing the last of the sticky gray stuff onto Lysander’s silver scales. He stepped back to check on his handiwork and saw in front of him a dull and dusty dragon. He smiled, pleased with the result: Lysander would blend into the night beautifully.

  Joss thought Lysander smelled revolting, but Lysander thought otherwise. The dragon sniffed the air appreciatively, flicked out his long, green tongue, and licked a tiny bit of the delicious camouflage off his snout. Lysander, Joss told his Lock sternly, please don’t lick the bone ash. We need you not to shine tonight.

  Lysander sighed. Why was it always the nice stuff you weren’t allowed to eat?

  From the small lookout window, Joss noticed that the sun was now dropping down behind Mount Lennix and a feeling of apprehension began to creep over him—there was so much that could go wrong. The sounds of the Roost stirring as the Raptors awoke from their rest and then the rattle of the first of the flight doors being wound down made everything feel frighteningly real.

  Hey, Joss. Lysander’s voice came into his mind. We can do it!

  Joss nodded, dry mouthed, and began hauling on the ropes that operated the pulley system to open Lysander’s flight door. It swung down like a drawbridge and, supported by its chains, it now became a launching platform. Joss leaned out and looked up at the sheer wall of the Roost that rose up into the sky. He saw, one by one, hatches dropping down as the Roost began to stir. The sight gave Joss a strange stab of grief, which confused him until he realized why: The Roost reminded him of a cliff face of seabirds, which was one of the last things he had seen with his parents. They had been attempting to escape a Lennix roundup, and it hadn’t worked. He remembered Raptors diving down, taking his parents hundreds of feet up into the sky, and then dropping them into the sea. The memory took away Joss’s fear and replaced it with anger. He watched the Raptors walking out, testing the platforms, and stretching their wings as though they were lords of all they surveyed. He saw the glint of sharpened talons, and brief but dazzling flares of dragonfire as they tested their fire stomachs. And Joss told himself that they would never, ever have a chance to spoil another world.

  Lysander, he sent. I am going now. I’ll be back soon. I hope. With Herlenna.

  The answer came winging back: I will see you both soon.

  Joss went to pat Lysander’s neck and stopped himself just in time. He didn’t want any more bone ash falling off. He hurried out through the Lock’s room and into the corridor. It was deserted but filled with the sound of creaking pulleys, rattling chains, and opening hatches. Joss took the service steps down to Level Thirteen and, using his passkey for the very first time, he unlocked its studded metal door. It swung open with a loud, complaining creak, and Joss froze. He waited, heart beating fast, but no footsteps came running and no voices barked out warnings. Gingerly he stepped inside.

  The dungeon was all a dungeon should be: cold and dank with the smell of mildew, and beneath it the sweet cloying scent of rotting flesh. Despite the presence of two dragons—Ramon, the Raptor Blue, and Herlenna the Green, a heavy silence pervaded, broken only by the distant, dismal plink of dripping water. It was lit by a few flickering lanterns, which showed the streaks of grime and mold upon the rough walls hewn from the rock. Unlike the rest of the Roost, this was not the work of skilled stonemasons, but of someone with only a pickax and a bad temper.

  Just inside the door there was a stand of dragon-baiting rods—long poles with metal points on the end. They were vicious-looking things, but Joss knew he must stay in his role in front of the Raptor prisoner. So he took one.

  The dungeon was partitioned into cages with a dragon entrance (but rarely an exit) hatch on the far side. As Joss’s eyes became used to the low levels of light, he saw within two of the cages the distinctive shapes of the dragons. Both creatures were lying down, their heads laid wretchedly on the serrated, rocky floor. Joss walked over to the Green and whispered, “Herlenna?”

  The dragon raised her head and regarded Joss suspiciously. She had learned enough in her short imprisonment to be very wary of anyone wearing a Lennix tunic—particularly a boy carrying a baiting rod. Kaan Lennix was a cruel and frequent visitor.

  Aware that the Raptor in the cage opposite was paying close attention, Joss dropped his voice. “Herlenna, I’ve come to rescue you. But I shall have to behave like a Lennix—otherwise the Blue will become suspicious. Do you understand?”

  Like all Greens, Herlenna placed great value on her intuition. Her eyes regarded Joss coolly and saw something in him that she trusted. She gave an infinitesimal nod of her head to show she understood.

  “I ask your pardon in advance,” Joss said.

  Herlenna nodded once more and Joss yelled fiercely, “Get back, get back!” and aggressively shoved the baiting rod through the bars. Herlenna played her part well; she cowered in the corner and went into a submissive pose, flicking her ears back and turning her head so she was not looking directly at Joss.

  “Dragon! You are ordered to the landing yard,” Joss barked. “At once.”

  In the cage behind Joss, Ramon thumped his tail angrily—why wasn’t he going too? Joss strode over to him and shoved the baiting rod through the bars. “You wait your turn,” he snarled. Ramon subsided, thinking that he would be next.

  Using all his strength to move the ropes through the rusty pulleys (they were not used much), Joss hauled open the massive hatch door that led to the outside. It fell into position with a loud clang that made Joss terrified someone would come to investigate. But in the hustle of the mass of Raptors exiting the Roost, no one even noticed. Ramon watched enviously as Joss unlocked the door to Herlenna’s cage and swung it open. He saw Joss herd the Green out with a few prods and then awkwardly swing himself up onto the dragon’s neck and settle into the rider’s dip. He watched the Green walk out onto the hatch, stretch her wings luxuriously—oh, how he longed to do that—and then rise up into the evening sky. Ramon settled down to wait his turn. It was a long wait.

  Outside in the deepening twilight, Joss and Herlenna were buffeted by the streams of turbulence caused by the continuing mass exit from the Roost, and Herlenna, hampered by her torn wing, had to fight to keep the downdraft from dashing them against the rock face of the Roost. Joss looked up and saw the dark shapes of dragons circling above, the flashing white of their underbellies each showing the Raptor trident tattoo as they waited for Decimus to take the lead and begin the landing for the assembly of Raid Flight Blue. The low rumble from the wingbeats reminded Joss of a swarm of bees.

  Joss sent an exultant message to Lysander: Lysander, I’ve got Herlenna, we did it! He scanned the line of open hatches on the level above and saw a distinctive gray snout with a tiny touch of silver poking out. Guided by Joss, Herlenna flew up toward Lysander’s chamber and as she hovered, gauging the angle of flight into the chamber, a small and highly excitable Yellow shot out from next door to Lysander and very nearly flew straight into them. However, such was the Yellow’s eagerness at the prospect of the raid, it paid no attention to the unfamiliar Green being ridden by
a Lennix boy and headed rapidly up to join the throng circling above.

  With the coast now clear, Herlenna flew neatly into Lysander’s chamber and landed just inside the door. The dragons greeted each other in soft dragonsong while Joss fretted about Lysander’s camouflage brushing off, and then they peered out of the door, watching the unformed flight wheeling high in the rapidly darkening sky, like crows on a winter’s evening over a graveyard.

  Joss was surprised at how long the flight was taking to form up. He looked at his Lennix watch and a knot began to tighten in his stomach. In a few seconds he would be late for Flight Assembly, and from that moment on, Edward Lennix would be looking for him. At that frightening thought, his watch flicked over to 6:35.

  Edward Lennix had more pressing things on his mind than the whereabouts of his newly adopted son: He had a crisis to manage. The assembly for Raid Flight Blue was in trouble—Valkea had very deliberately walked away from the flight and picked a fight with D’Mara. Now Valkea’s harsh dragonsong, equally matched by D’Mara’s raised voice, was carrying across the yard. A tense silence had fallen. There was not a wing creak, talon scrape, or fire snort as every Raptor listened to D’Mara’s angry words. Edward was furious: D’Mara was making it obvious to the whole Roost that the Lennixes were losing their grip.

  “Valkea,” D’Mara was saying, “I will not be maligned by an upstart young Raptor such as you. I have not broken my word to you. I promised you nothing. You will get your chance to go through to the Lost Lands, but you will go when I tell you and not before. Now get back to the flight at once.”

  Valkea did not move.

  Edward picked up a send from Decimus. You have to stop this, Lennix. Look at those young Raptors at the back.

  Edward followed Decimus’s gaze to a group of young Yellows at the back of the assembly. Their orange eyes, shining in the torchlight, were all fixed on Valkea. Edward got the impression that at any moment they too would walk away. “Leave it to me, Decimus,” Edward growled.

  Followed by thirty pairs of watchful Raptor eyes, Edward strode over to D’Mara and Valkea, his boots loud upon the cobbles in the deadly silence of the landing yard. D’Mara gave her husband a furious glance—how dare he interrupt—but she said nothing. In times of trouble, Lennixes always kept a united front.

  “Good evening, Valkea,” Edward said smoothly. “Raid Flight Blue is ready to leave. Your attendance is required at once.”

  Valkea raised her head, and in a shocking act of aggression, she opened her mouth to show her well-tended, glistening fangs in a classic Raptor warning display. Edward was horrified. But he decided the best thing to do was to ignore it. “In the first rank,” he added.

  Valkea considered her position. To be promoted from the rear to the first rank was unprecedented. It was an opportunity not to be missed. Deciding to leave her fight with D’Mara for another day, she turned away without the customary bow of the head to a Lennix and walked slowly back to Raid Flight Blue.

  Edward let out a sigh of relief. “Next time you decide to pick a fight, D’Mara,” he said in a low voice, “do it in private, would you?” And then he too walked away, leaving D’Mara speechless. It was not her fault, she wanted to say. It was Valkea who had picked the fight, not her. D’Mara decided she would speak to Bellacrux about Valkea’s behavior. The old Grand didn’t have much to do anymore apart from keeping the younger Raptors in order. Clearly Bellacrux was losing her edge.

  In pursuit of the ever-united Lennix front, D’Mara joined Edward at the front of the flight and the assembly continued with Valkea in the first rank next to the twins’ Trixtan. It was then that an exasperated Edward realized that neither Kaan nor Joshua were anywhere to be seen. It was Kaan’s absence that annoyed him the most, for Kaan was flying Valkea and this was yet another loss of face for the Lennixes. “Where is Kaan?” Edward said in a low growl to D’Mara. Before D’Mara had time to answer, Tamra, who had yet to join Trixtan, came striding over. “Kaan says he has a stomachache and is too sick to fly,” she said triumphantly. “What a baby. I told you Kaan can’t hack it with Valkea. Bad call, Ma.”

  D’Mara gave her daughter a look of anger that a few days previously would have reduced Tamra to jelly—but no longer. Tamra stared coldly at her mother for some seconds and then walked pointedly away from the flight.

  “Leave her be,” Edward growled. “Mirra can fly Trixtan on her own.”

  D’Mara sent a guard to fetch Kaan. He arrived dragging his feet and looking, D’Mara had to admit, very pale. But if Kaan hoped for any comfort from his mother, he was soon disappointed. D’Mara looked at him as though he were a nasty little worm. “I don’t want to hear any excuses, Kaan. You’re flying tonight,” she hissed. “You must learn to control yourself. And your Lock. I won’t tell you again.”

  Kaan stared at the ground, mortified. “Go and distribute the firestix,” D’Mara told him. “One holster to each rider. Try at least to get that right, will you?”

  Kaan perked up. He loved firestix. They were vicious weapons: a long metal lance with a tip that, when armed, glowed red-hot and on contact with dragon flesh burst into flames. Fueled by the keratin in dragon scales, a firestik would burn its way steadily through the flesh, ever deeper, like a burrowing worm of fire.

  While Kaan distributed the firestik holsters, D’Mara turned her thoughts to her newest problem son: Joss. Where was he? Fuming, D’Mara watched Edward take his place on Decimus at the head of the flight. She saw Kaan nervously climbing up onto Valkea, and Mirra settling herself on Trixtan. In the second rank was Declan on Timoleon, who was, in D’Mara’s opinion, a timid Raptor who did her eldest son no favors. All were in position now and ready to go. “I wish Raid Flight Blue a great success!” D’Mara called out. “Good hunting and safe return!”

  An answering triple stamp in perfect time, which sent goose bumps down her spine, was her reply. D’Mara relaxed: All was well with the flight. Smiling, she watched Edward and Decimus take the first launching run. She felt the rumble come up through the cobblestones as the heavy Red ran along the launching platform, closely followed by Valkea and then one by one the Raptors launched with rapid, well-practiced efficiency. Soon all were airborne.

  Tamra watched the dark arrow of Raid Flight Blue wheel away in perfect formation and head swiftly down toward the pass. Then she picked up a firestik and, on a raid mission of her own, she headed down to the Roost. From the shadows of the loggia, Bellacrux watched her go. And then the Lennix Grand walked slowly out onto the empty landing yard and took off. She too was on a mission—and now it was time for it to begin.

  From Lysander’s open flight door, Joss watched the Raptors’ white underbellies flashing like fish in a pool as they wheeled into their turn and dipped down toward the pass. “They’ve gone,” he told Lysander and Herlenna, and as he spoke he saw the magnificent winged silhouette of the Lennix Grand appear, coasting gently down toward her chamber. “All’s clear. Let’s get out of here!” He swung himself up onto Lysander and turned to Herlenna. “Herlenna, follow as close as you can. We’re going up to Level One, into the Grand’s chamber.”

  Herlenna, whose experience of the Lennix Grand had not been good so far, gave Joss a quizzical look. “Trust me,” Joss said. “Bellacrux is with us.”

  The flight up the face of the Roost was nerve-racking, but above them Bellacrux hovered protectively, guiding them into her chamber and then following them inside. Allie met them, beaming, and made sure Lysander avoided the hatchling—he had grown so fast he was no longer sure where his feet were. “I was so scared,” Allie told Joss as Bellacrux greeted her two dragon guests. “I kept thinking of all the things that could go wrong.”

  “Me too,” Joss said. “And they still could. They’ll be looking for me right now. And Tamra suspects something, I know she does. We’ve got to get out of here fast.”

  But leaving quickly was not so easy. It seemed to Joss and Allie that dragons possessed a different sense of time than humans. Bellacrux had apologie
s to give to Herlenna and she would not fly without making them. The sound of dragonsong began to fill the chamber; it flowed between Herlenna and Bellacrux like the washing of the tide upon the sand, the ethereal ancient dragon language sending swaths of goose bumps down the spines of the listening humans.

  Joss and Allie watched Herlenna lift her head and gently touch Bellacrux on the end of her snout, and then Allie heard Bellacrux tell her: Give Herlenna her young one. I have already given her my sorrow and apologies for her suffering. Allie carefully placed the hatchling in Herlenna’s rider’s dip. The little dragon’s cling reflex kicked in and it grabbed hold of Herlenna’s crest.

  To Joss’s dismay, the dragonsong continued. He was feeling increasingly anxious—with every second the danger of being discovered increased, and there were more than enough Raptors left in the Roost to give chase and send them crashing to the ground in flames. “Allie, please,” he said. “Tell Bellacrux we have to go now. We can’t wait another second.”

  “I know,” Allie whispered. “But I can’t find a space to say it.”

  I hear you, Allie, came Bellacrux’s voice. We will go now. Herlenna says she will lead us to the Greens’ hideout. We shall be their honored guests.

  As Herlenna walked out along the launching door, there was a sudden crash and the wicket door flew open. Three dragons and two Locks swung around to see Tamra, firestik in her hand, staring at them, her mouth gaping in shock.

  Confused for a moment, Tamra took in the scene. She’d come to ask Bellacrux for help to find the Sheep-boy so-called brother but he was already here—along with his nasty sister, who was meant to be dragon food. And standing over them, her wings half-raised, was Bellacrux, protecting them. Tamra tried to make sense of it. She saw the Green on the landing door next to a small dragon covered in dust with a shining silver snout. And then, at last, Tamra understood: Bellacrux was a traitor.