Rise of the Dragons Page 6

  “Where are we?” Joss whispered.

  I don’t know! Lysander sent excitedly. And then: It smells funny.

  Lysander was right. The air was damp with a strangely metallic yet earthy smell. And there was an odd, low rumble coming up from the ground that made Joss feel uncomfortable. It was like nowhere he had ever been before. A legend that his mother had once told him now came back to Joss: how Silvers, unlike other dragons, could travel to another world—“the Lost Lands,” she had called it. And something about the strangeness of the place told Joss that his mother’s story might actually be true—that he and Lysander were indeed in the Lost Lands. A chill ran through him. “Lysander, can we go home?” he whispered. “Please?”

  Lysander felt the fear in his Lock, although he didn’t understand why. He wanted to explore this interesting new place, but if Joss didn’t like it, it was no fun. He stopped the glide and began to ascend. Anxiously, Joss wondered if Lysander would know how to return to their own world, but it seemed that his Lock was learning fast. Before Joss knew it they were diving into a cloud, hurtling through the tumbling, twisting tunnel of light and then shooting out into a brilliant blue sky. At once Joss knew they were home. It smelled right, it felt right, and far below in the middle of the stone circle lay his shattered hut. Joss felt weak with relief. He wrapped his arms around Lysander’s neck and whispered, “Thank you, Lysander, thank you.”

  Lysander wasn’t sure what Joss was thanking him for, but he was beginning to learn that humans were not entirely like dragons. They seemed, Lysander thought, to be jumpy creatures, screaming in fear one minute and then coolly making plans the next. He found it interesting. And oddly endearing.

  Right then Joss was still feeling jumpy. Anxiously, he scanned the sky for Decimus and Edward, and to his relief he saw they were already far away, heading toward the distant jagged line of the Black Mountains. But the early morning sunshine was glinting off Lysander’s scales, and Joss knew that all Edward Lennix had to do was turn around and he would see them, shining like a beacon. “Lysander,” he said, “we need to get down fast.”

  How fast? Lysander asked, thinking it was high time for some play.

  Lysander had, Joss thought, a smile in his voice. “Really, really fast,” he replied.

  Lysander liked a challenge. Hold tight, he sent.

  Joss wrapped his arms around Lysander’s neck. Lysander put his snout down, his tail up, his wings back, and then suddenly Joss was staring down at the stone circle far below. It looked like a target with the exploded hut as the bull’s-eye. For a moment they seemed to hang motionless, and then they were off, plummeting to the ground as though they’d been shot. The air rushed by so fast that Joss was sure any moment now his head was going to fly off. Breathing was out of the question. He closed his eyes tight shut, and in his ears he heard a wild noise: Aaaaaeiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!

  Some seconds later, with his head still miraculously attached, Joss dared to open his eyes. Lysander had taken them down to below the highest hills—no Lennix could see them now. The dragon settled into a glide, and an exhilarated Joss unwrapped his arms from Lysander’s neck.

  My ears hurt. A reproachful send from Lysander came into Joss’s head.

  So do mine, Joss sent back.

  But my ears hurt because you were screaming in them, Lysander replied as he flew in long, lazy circles, wheeling above the ancient stones, dipping down elegantly with each turn. Joss was wishing the flight could last forever when a shout from below broke into his thoughts.

  “Joss!” Allie’s voice came winging up through the morning air. “What are you doing?”

  Joss waved to his sister. “I’m flying!” he yelled.

  Allie shaded her eyes, looking up at the sky. Lysander looked magnificent, his wings spread wide, the sunlight glimmering through the silvery skin as he drifted in long, languorous circles. She watched as dragon and boy came gently down to land on the soft grass, as confident and comfortable as if they had already spent a lifetime together. She saw the silver dragon lift his head up to the sky and stretch out his wings as if in triumph, and she could hardly believe that sitting on this beautiful creature was her brother Joss, looking as though he had been born to it. Allie sighed. Lysander was going to change their lives, for sure. She just hoped it was going to be in a good way.

  Edward Lennix and Decimus flew into the freezing shadows of the lower reaches of the pass that led up to Fortress Lennix. Edward paid no attention to the towering, sheer walls that reared up on either side of them; his mind was buzzing with the brilliant dancing image of a small silver dragon.

  They were at the point in the pass where it became dangerously narrow and Decimus had no more than a few feet on either side of his wingspan. With some effort, Edward forced the silver dragon from his mind: He must be calm in order to allow his Lock a clear head for navigating through this particularly treacherous part of the approach to Fortress Lennix, which Decimus always found a little tricky. Edward unfocused his mind and observed Decimus half folding his wings and, at a heart-stopping last moment, just managing to slip through the bottleneck that marked the end of the pass. Now they were out, but the dangers were not over yet. The Needles—three sharp pinnacles of rock that had torn many a novice dragon’s wings—reared up before them. Decimus was not fazed by these—he gave a powerful thrust that sent them soaring up and safely above.

  Over the worst now, Edward relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the dramatic approach across a series of granite precipices and plateaus that formed the sprawling outposts of Fortress Lennix. It was a steep climb that took them through pockets of cold, clammy mists that hung around the higher reaches of the mountains. Isolated turrets of rock poked through, some topped with deserted settlements now falling into ruin. Still they ascended; the air became thinner, but powerhouse that he was, Decimus rose steadily upward, heading toward Fortress Lennix, set on the highest plateau in the upper foothills of Mount Lennix, the tallest of the Black Mountains.

  Through the drifting mist Edward Lennix now glimpsed the uncompromisingly square shape of Fortress Lennix, and smiled to himself at the thought of the meeting with D’Mara. The dark shadow cast by Mount Lennix made the orange landing cross hard to see that morning. Decimus, however, knew it so well he could have landed with his eyes closed, which he sometimes did to alleviate the boredom of routine journeys. He settled perfectly onto the very center of the cross and waited while Edward swung himself down. Once again Decimus saw the spiky silhouette watching from the lookout window. Enjoy your meeting, Decimus sent.

  This time I will, Edward sent. And thank you, Decimus. Superb flying.

  Edward walked jauntily into D’Mara’s lookout and sat down in the comfortable chair by the window, leaning back with the happy knowledge that for once he knew something D’Mara didn’t, and determined to savor every moment of it. He glanced over to his wife, who was ensconced behind her desk in her impressive ebony chair fashioned from three sinuously carved dragons. She was looking at him expectantly, but was saying nothing. Edward waited just long enough to annoy D’Mara with his silence, and then he sat up and looked at her coolly. “It’s hatched,” he said.

  It had the desired effect. D’Mara stared at Edward. “What?” she said.

  Edward folded his arms in the way that D’Mara always found annoying, and a smug smile crept across his thin lips. “The Silver,” he said slowly, determined to enjoy his moment for as long as possible, “has hatched.”

  D’Mara leapt to her feet. “Hatched? You’ve seen it?”

  Edward nodded. “I saw it flying. With a boy.”

  “With a boy? It’s big enough already to fly a boy?”

  “That’s what I saw, D’Mara. The Silver with a boy.”

  D’Mara began to pace the room in short but rapid steps “Quicksilvers,” she muttered. “They call them quicksilvers. So that is why. They grow fast too.” She stopped beside Edward’s chair and stared down at him. “So where is it?” she demanded. “And, more to the point
, why isn’t it here? Now?”

  Unperturbed, Edward met D’Mara’s gaze. “I could hardly let Decimus catch a precious young Silver in his talons, could I? Not without damaging the creature.”

  D’Mara had to admit that was true. She looked at Edward suspiciously. “You are sure it was the Silver?” she asked. “Sometimes sunlight on scales can make a Blue look like a Silver.”

  “I am one hundred percent sure,” Edward said. “We did a fire test. The flames rolled off it like butter off a hot knife. Not a mark on it.”

  D’Mara looked at her husband with something approaching respect. “You got close enough to do a fire test?” She set off once again, pacing the room, her eyes glittering with excitement. “A Silver,” she said. “We have a Silver!”

  “To be precise, D’Mara, the Zolls have a Silver,” Edward said.

  “The Zolls? So the egg was dropped where the Blue said?”

  “Looks like it,” Edward said.

  “But who is the boy? The Zolls have no children.”

  Edward shrugged. “Who cares about the boy?”

  D’Mara ground her teeth with impatience. “I do, Edward. The boy might have Locked with it.” She went over to the bookshelves and took down a heavy book titled Tenant Register. “The boy. How old?” she snapped.

  “Oh … about eleven, I suppose. Or twelve, maybe. I don’t know. Very skinny. Don’t suppose they feed him much.”

  D’Mara ran a surprisingly workmanlike finger down a list. “All the farmhands are late teens. There’s a house girl and … ah yes, there’s the girl’s brother, an indentured shepherd boy—Joshua Moran—who’s the right age. It must be him.”

  Edward got to his feet. “I’ll take the flight down immediately and demand they hand it over.”

  D’Mara closed the register with a bang. “Sit down, Edward!” she ordered.

  Edward sat down. He wondered how he had managed to lose the advantage so quickly. D’Mara was a clever woman, he thought, there was no doubt about it.

  D’Mara eyeballed Edward, pleased to have him under control again. “Edward, just for once think it through,” she said. “Clearly the Zolls don’t know about the Silver.”

  “They don’t?” Edward was puzzled. How did D’Mara work this stuff out?

  “If they did, they would hardly let a shepherd boy ride it, would they? So if you and the flight turn up demanding the Silver, we’ll have to pay for it—and then some. And even then, they are within their rights to refuse.”

  “I’d like to see them try,” Edward said angrily. “We’d raze the place to the ground in minutes.”

  “And take the Silver with it?” D’Mara asked. “Or give that awful Zoll man an excuse to take it hostage? Demand a ransom? Maybe even shoot it from his nasty little watchtower? No, Edward, we cannot risk taking the Silver by force.”

  Edward was stumped. “So how do we get it, then?” he asked.

  D’Mara walked over to the window and gazed out to the misty green of the plains just visible through a distant gap in the jagged peaks. “Krane is much stronger today,” she said. “He can take me down to the plains. I’ll walk from there.”

  “Walk?” Edward Lennix looked shocked. “Why? Where to? What on earth for?”

  D’Mara turned and smiled, showing a tight row of tiny, pointy teeth, which she had had filed when she was a young teen. “You catch more flies with honey,” she said. “Particularly Silver ones.”

  D’Mara Lennix, her hair flowing free, dressed in multicolored long, swirling robes and carrying a small backpack and a long walking stave, strode swiftly out of the Lennix quarters. She took the private passageway that ran beneath the landing yard into the Roost, hurried down the Lennix stairs, and took the door marked 4.

  Krane’s chamber on Roost Level Four reflected the length of time he had been in the Roost rather than his seniority due to his Lock with D’Mara. D’Mara was looking forward to her flight on Krane. Her happiest memories were of the expeditions they had taken to distant lands where they had terrorized the local inhabitants—both dragon and human—and she had turned a blind eye to the occasional human bones that Krane would cough up.

  It was on one of these expeditions that Krane had picked up scale fever—a much-dreaded relapsing disease that she knew would blight Krane’s life forever. But D’Mara loved her Lock too much to walk away from him as others might have done. She had found a very nearly deserted island on which to nurse Krane in safety and solitude. Throughout the long weeks, she had sat with him, watching his scales fall off and protecting his delicate blue skin with soft grasses until the fever abated and at last the scales began to grow back again. The island’s two terrified inhabitants had proved useful. They had willingly provided D’Mara with food and water, and once Krane began to recover, they themselves had—rather less willingly—provided the much-needed protein that tempted the dragon to eat once again and get his strength back. When D’Mara and Krane finally left the island, it truly was deserted.

  After that, D’Mara and Krane were inseparable. This did not concern Edward, but when they were younger, D’Mara’s children had resented the fact that their mother had endless patience with Krane and his periodic bouts of scale fever, but little with them. They came to realize that they had no choice but to accept that Krane had the biggest place in their mother’s heart and it was up to them to squeeze into the small and awkward spaces that Krane left them.

  As D’Mara approached the tall blue door that led to Krane’s chamber, the attendant—who was nursing a bandaged hand—let her in with a respectful bow. Then she went back to her duties of preparing Krane’s supper, rendered a little awkward by the previous day’s loss of her index finger and thumb to Krane’s sharp snout.

  D’Mara stepped into Krane’s chamber and looked around approvingly. Krane might only be a Level Four resident, but he had the best D’Mara could provide. Huge velvet cushions in a variety of rich shades of blue were scattered across the floor, which was covered in deep, soft rugs shot through with indigo and gold threads. An azure-blue tracery of beams rose up into a cathedral-like vault, and a line of colored glass windows that looked out onto the mountains sent multicolored sparkles of light dancing across the opulent fabrics. D’Mara smiled. Krane’s chamber always made her happy.

  Krane was a long, elegant dragon with a vicious-looking snout that possessed the stub of his egg tooth honed to a knifelike point. He was lying half-asleep, his head resting on a pile of cushions, but at D’Mara’s entrance he lazily opened one heavy-lidded yellow eye and perused his Lock with an air of extreme puzzlement. What on earth, he sent, are you wearing?

  Expedition clothing, D’Mara sent in return.

  Krane flipped out a razor-sharp talon and picked a small sheep bone from his teeth.

  So what kind of expedition requires you to be disguised as a small yet colorful tent, Dee? Do tell.

  D’Mara walked over to her Lock and stroked the top of his head, noting with pleasure that his scales once more had a healthy shine and had regained their beautiful and unusually deep blue color. We found the Silver! she sent.

  Krane jerked his head up in surprise. You found it? Dee, that is wonderful news. I can hardly believe it! May I visit it? I’m out of quarantine now.

  Unfortunately, dearest, the Silver is not here yet. It’s at the Zolls’.

  Ah. The delightful Seigneur and Madam Zoll. Krane flicked the offending sheep bone across the chamber, where it landed neatly into a small bucket of similar bones: Krane was a little obsessive. No doubt Edward will be liberating it from them as soon as possible.

  Not Edward, D’Mara sent, so loudly that Krane winced. He’ll only mess it up again. I will fetch the Silver myself. However, I wish Madam Zoll to have no idea who I am. That way I can get the Silver out from under her long and very pointy nose without any fuss.

  Aha, Krane sent. I am relieved this tent is merely a temporary aberration. It’s not a good look, Dee.

  D’Mara smiled. I know, my love. But it will be worth
it. Because if all goes well, very soon you will be having something a little more interesting to eat than sheep. She walked over to the large brass handle connected to the winding mechanism set beside a massive blue-and-gold hatch that took up most of the wall beneath the multicolored windows. She turned to Krane and asked, So, my love, I hope you are feeling strong enough today to fly me out of the mountains?

  My wings itch, Krane answered, already getting to his feet. I’m longing to fly.

  D’Mara wound down the huge blue hatch in the wall of the chamber and allowed it to drop slowly outward until it hung like a diving board on two thick chains over the precipitous drop. Krane joined her at the opening and together they looked out: The small white sun rode in the bright blue sky far above, burning off the swirls of mist that hung around the lower reaches of the mountains and making the snowcapped mountaintops sparkle. The air was cold, but it smelled clean and bright and sent a thrill of excitement through Krane. He lifted up his head and took such a deep breath that D’Mara heard it whistling down into his lungs. You’re wheezing, she sent anxiously.

  And you’re fussing, Dee. Come on, let’s fly, Krane replied.

  D’Mara swung herself up into the rider’s dip, and with his Lock resplendent in her robes and seated like a warrior queen, Krane walked proudly out onto the flight platform. A moment later they were soaring up above Fortress Lennix on the first thermals of the day, rising high and fast. D’Mara felt full of joy—flying with Krane always blew her disappointments away.