Rise of the Shadow Dragons

by Liz Flanagan

  Joe felt as though he were underwater, moving slowly, pressed on all sides by the heavy weight of his grief. ‘Come with me, Mum. I promised him I’d keep you safe.’

  His mother refused to leave the Yellow House and hide in the tunnels. ‘I’m not leaving this house. I’m not leaving Nestan,’ she said, keeping her eyes on his grave.

  ‘Well, I’m not leaving you then. Not yet.’ The thought of Ren tugged at Joe’s heart, but he knew Winter would take care of her, and her food supplies would be lasting longer without him.

  Matteo went to make something for them all to eat: soon the smell of frying garlic snaked out into the cool spring air.

  Josi started to speak. In a low murmur she told him more details about everything that had happened on that terrible day. ‘They marched the city elders down to the docks and sent them away to Sartola. Your brother – already there – will surely be planning a response: let’s hope there’s a city still to rescue when Isak gets here.’

  Joe felt either dazed and sleepy, or itchily restless. His mind kept jumping around, trying to make plans, but only finding more and more questions. ‘And Conor and Amina, all the ones with the newest dragons – do you know what happened to them?’

  ‘No. Also prisoners, I expect, in the dragonhall maybe?’ Josi had a blanket over her lap, the sunshine catching the silver in her hair.

  Joe felt the beginnings of a new feeling – a stirring of anger, washing away his numbness and disbelief. ‘What is everyone doing?’ he demanded. ‘How can they let this happen?’

  ‘Joe, the Brotherhood used to be soldiers. Then – just before you were born – they lost what they valued most. They lost their place in the army, and with it, their pride. Our mistake was to forget that, and not to realise how much it meant to them. They’re ruthless, furious and desperate.’ His mother leaned forward, touching Joe’s cheek. ‘The attack on the city took everyone by surprise. Today, every­one will be hiding, mourning, licking their wounds, as we are. Our neighbours lost people too.’

  He saw how fragile she looked, how tired. The bruises were deepening, yellow and plum, and her eyes were blood­shot from crying.

  ‘It’s too soon,’ she said. ‘They’re frightened to move while the Brotherhood roam the streets. But they will resist, Joe, you can count on it.’

  ‘I can’t just sit here, waiting. I’ve got to do something.’ Joe felt his head clearing a little, as the first shock wore off. It was replaced by more fury. He welcomed the anger, inviting it in. ‘Let’s strike now, before they get used to being in control.’

  ‘Joe, no. Your father wouldn’t want vengeance,’ his mother said quickly.

  ‘It’s not revenge,’ he lied, adding, ‘it’s what he would have done.’ Time was running out. He needed to return to Ren, but he had to take action first. Just the first step. Like lighting the taper on a barrel of firepowder.

  ‘Don’t do it because of him. You don’t have to prove any­thing.’ Josi’s face softened as she stared at her son through tear-filled eyes.

  ‘Don’t I?’ He sounded bitter, but he didn’t care. Of course he had to prove himself! As far as the city knew, he was a brattish, violent child who’d almost hurt a baby dragon and nearly caused a riot. He needed to avenge his father and show everyone he’d changed.

  ‘Of course not,’ his mother was saying. ‘He loved you, Joe. Just as you are. You don’t have to do anything.’ She muttered something that sounded like, ‘So hard for you all …’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He sat very still now, listening.

  ‘He expected a lot from his children. As he did from him­self.’ Josi sighed, now looking past him, into the far distance, where the city met the sea. ‘Nestan had been many things: a sailor, a warrior, a wealthy merchant. He was a lot to live up to.’ Tears slid down her cheeks now, but she didn’t seem to notice. ‘But he never saw that. He was always pushing himself. So kind and generous to others; so hard on himself. But, oh, was he proud of you!’

  ‘Was he?’ It was a new thought to Joe, impossible to believe. ‘Still? Even after Hatching Day …?’

  ‘Always. So don’t you go and get yourself killed because you’ve got something to prove. Promise me, Joe?’

  ‘Mum, I’ve got to do something,’ he insisted. ‘Let me try, at least. Before the Brotherhood do any more damage. I’ll use the tunnels: I’ll be safe.’ He kissed her head gently. ‘I’m going to do it anyway, but I’d rather have your blessing.’

  Josi frowned, wiping away tears with the palm of her hand.

  ‘Anyway, you taught me, didn’t you?’ He took her hand and tugged it gently, reminding her. ‘Sword skills, close combat, lock-picking and codes. You made sure I was ready. What did you do that for if you didn’t want me to use it?’

  That did it. She smiled ruefully and conceded the point. ‘Go, then. I hope I taught you well enough. Know when to retreat, as well as when to fight. Promise me that, instead?’

  ‘Promise.’ Joe leaned in and they held each other tightly. He felt his shoulder grow damp with her tears.

  Joe left at dawn the next day before his mother or Matteo were awake.

  He realised he had to keep moving. If he stopped and let himself think too much, he was finished. He found he could sharpen his grief into a point, like an arrowhead, and use it to keep pushing forwards.

  He was wearing old clothes, carrying his father’s compass like a talisman now, hoping it would bring him luck. He also carried a storm lantern, a small backpack of supplies and the dragon-handled knife Conor had given him – though he prayed he wouldn’t need it. He used the tunnels to enter the palace grounds, using the low door by the stables, and leaving the sack of food that Matteo had prepared for him just inside the entrance.

  In the palace gardens it was almost full daylight, though the mist still hung low, making trees loom, eerie and ghostlike.

  Joe hid the lantern and backpack, tugged his hat low, then rolled his shoulders, lifted his head, and walked straight towards the dragonhalls as if he did it every day. He reached the first hall without being seen. The doors were ajar. Inside, it was empty, cold and silent.

  It didn’t mean anything bad, he reasoned; it didn’t mean they were dead.

  The second was the same. He could taste the fear in his mouth, sour and sharp.

  Next he came to the ancient dragonhall, the original one. Armed with a family secret, he slunk round the back, count­ing his steps, till he found the hidden doorway concealed by ivy. He’d heard the old stories, from Milla and his mother: how this door had helped Milla in the revolution; how it had allowed their grandmother Kara to escape from the old duke. Now it was his turn. The old duke’s legacy still haunted this island, but it was time to banish it for good.

  Joe unlatched the door, trying not to make a sound. The catch was stiff and rusty, but it opened with a groan after a few moments of pushing. He peered in, eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light inside. There was still a wall hanging concealing the secret door, just as he’d been told.

  He squeezed through, leaving the door ajar, hoping the tapestry hid him completely. He stood still, hardly able to breathe. Dust tickled his nose, but he suppressed a sneeze. Listening hard, he could hear subdued voices, and he could swear one of them was Conor.

  He edged sideways – one step, two – till he came to the edge of the heavy fabric and peered round it.

  The dragonhall was full of people and dragons, and lit by a huge central brick stove. In the dim fuggy warmth, he counted eighteen dragons and fifteen people, including Conor, Amina, Tiago and Flavia. There was no sign of Noah. There were some full-grown dragons from the previ­ous hatching ceremonies, but none of the original dragons of Arcosi, and none of his family.

  He had to choose his next move very carefully; he didn’t want to scare them in case they attacked, so he decided to use his secret signal. He and Conor had chosen it when they called for each other late on summer evenings. He’d stand below Conor’s window and mimic the cry of the herring gull t
hree times, and then Conor would sneak out and they’d run down to the harbour, not willing to waste a minute of daylight.

  Joe raised his hands and cupped his mouth. But before he could make a sound, Ariel and Maric let out an excited aark, aark, aark, and every person in the room turned to stare.

  His mouth went dry. It was just like the hatching ceremony: all those faces glaring at him, thinking the worst.

  With a huge effort of will, he stepped out from behind the tapestry, hands up, calling softly, ‘I’m a friend! Conor, Amina – tell them!’ His voice only wobbled a little.

  Neither of them moved.

  Did they think he was one of the Brotherhood? The biggest dragons started lumbering to their feet. One of them looked like Ando, the huge orange dragon belonging to Rosa Demarco, Tarya’s second-in-command, but she wasn’t here, so it couldn’t be, could it?

  Joe felt exposed and vulnerable, and there was a new absence at his side where Ren should be. The huge dragons towered over him, growling and baring their sharp teeth. He was completely outnumbered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ‘Joe?’ Conor sounded incredulous, pushing past the large dragons to see.

  ‘But … b-but …’ Amina stuttered. ‘What are you doing here? How did you get in?’

  ‘Secret door.’ He gestured behind him.

  ‘So it was true, you did survive. You know we thought you were dead?’ Her dark brown eyes were hurt and suspi­cious. ‘For a long time.’

  ‘You let us think that.’ Conor never lost his temper, but he did now. ‘And now you dare to walk in here, after every­thing?’ He shook his head in disbelief, one hand pushing back his unruly red hair. ‘What?’ He tried to make sense of it. ‘So you wrecked the ceremony, faked your death, ran away and hid somewhere, while people died and a dragon was killed – and they are really dead, Joe, not like you! – and that’s the action of a friend? I don’t think so.’

  Amina went over to stand with him, shooting Joe a fierce glare. ‘It’s all right,’ she told Conor. ‘They probably told us as soon as they could.’

  ‘Not soon enough! I feel like a fool for mourning you, Joe!’

  Joe’s heart felt like a stone in his chest. All this time, he’d missed his friends; he’d felt bad for deceiving them, but he hadn’t really considered what it had been like for them. He started backing away from them, towards the door. This was a mistake. It was too late. He couldn’t make up for what he’d done.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you dare walk away!’ Conor roared at him. ‘You stay and face us, Jowan Thornsen.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Joe mumbled. ‘I’m sorry. I got badly hurt, and I couldn’t come back, not for a while. Then I thought you were all better off without me. Look, I can’t explain it all now …’ He lifted his head and tried to tap into that anger and thirst for revenge once more. ‘My father’s dead,’ he said tightly. ‘The Brotherhood killed him, and they must be stopped. So I’ve come to get you out, so we can fight back together. I’m here to help.’

  ‘Nestan? No!’ Amina gasped.

  ‘Don’t.’ Joe put a hand up to stop her. He couldn’t manage any sympathy, not yet. ‘Please, don’t. You’re right to be angry, all of you. Let’s just get out of here and I’ll explain better afterwards.’ He looked at Conor, waiting to see if this would be enough.

  Conor looked down at his feet, thinking. Long moments slid past. Joe heard the crackle of a log in the stove; the rustle as a dragon re-settled its wings.

  Just then, another person shouldered his way through the circle of people and dragons. ‘Joe!’ It was Tiago. ‘Good to see you. Now I can thank you, finally, for rescuing me last winter.’

  Amina and Conor stared open-mouthed at him. ‘You’d seen him? Why didn’t you say it was Joe who rescued you?’

  ‘I promised.’ Tiago came through and shook Joe’s hand, clasping his arm in warm greeting. ‘I think they’d have killed me, if you hadn’t come along just then.’

  Joe studied the older boy. He had a slight scar over one eyebrow, and his beard had grown in fully now, otherwise he looked the same as the first time they’d met. ‘What else could I do? We had to stop them then, just like we need to stop them now.’

  ‘I’m with Joe,’ Tiago said.

  ‘All right,’ Conor said finally. ‘But this isn’t over, Joe.’

  Amina nodded slowly. ‘You can really get us out? Maric, Ariel, and all the other dragons too?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, meeting their gaze. He hated how they looked at him now, so distantly, when they’d always been so close.

  The small pale purple dragons crowded close, sniffing carefully. These two were like twins, almost identical. Maric was a touch larger, while Ariel had a more delicate face and slightly bigger eyes.

  ‘Come on, let’s introduce you …’ Amina said softly. ‘Here’s my Maric.’

  ‘And this is Ariel,’ Conor said stiffly.

  Joe bowed and said a polite, ‘Hello, good to meet you.’ He couldn’t help comparing them to Ren: they were both bigger than her, both taller and sturdier. Their wings were thicker, their ears shorter. He felt a sharp homesick pang for Ren, and knew he had to get back to her today.

  Maric and Ariel gave him a gentle aark of welcome, and the larger dragons finally judged Joe was harmless and allowed him through.

  Amina and Conor led him over to the circle of suspicious faces. It was overwhelming to be stared at by so many at once.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ asked a young man with short black spiky hair.

  ‘I thought he was dead,’ said another.

  ‘I thought he was dangerous.’ That was Flavia, the young girl whose cream-coloured dragon Joe had almost trampled.

  Joe took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he had to make them trust him. He looked directly at Flavia. ‘I’m sorry, for what I almost did on Hatching Day. I was angry, but that’s no excuse, I know.’

  She tutted, a loud pffftt of disdain, and looked away. He deserved that.

  ‘All I can say is that I’ve changed, and I want to help. I’ve come to get you all out of the dragonhall, to freedom. The smaller dragons and their people with me, to hide here in Arcosi – I know where to go. The others will have to use the main doors, and fly to safety.’

  Flavia was still glaring in the opposite direction, but Joe thought she was listening.

  He peered over everyone’s heads at the large double doors. ‘They’re locked, I take it?’

  ‘Yes – and they’ve barred the gates with iron so the dragons can’t burn their way out,’ one of the older dragon­riders answered. ‘We were betrayed.’ He spat in the sawdust that covered the floor. ‘They come past twice a day to throw in food and water. Cowards.’

  ‘That’s good.’ That was better than he’d hoped. ‘When are they due next?’

  ‘Not till tonight,’ Amina said. ‘They brought food and water at sunrise.’

  ‘Right. Listen to me – this is my plan,’ Joe said.

  To his surprise, everyone huddled closer. Only Flavia remained apart, glaring at him. ‘I don’t know why we’re listening to him, all of a sudden. It’s probably a trap.’

  ‘Are we not trapped now?’ Tiago asked pointedly. ‘We can trust him. And if I’m wrong, we are no worse off. It’s worth the risk.’

  ‘I know a secret way we and the smaller dragons can leave the palace grounds, but it’s well hidden,’ Joe went on. ‘We can get out of here the way I came in, but we’ll have to be careful we’re not spotted by the Brotherhood. How many guards at the front?’

  ‘Two,’ Conor said. ‘I’ve heard them talking. No one wants that job. They’re scared of us.’

  ‘Even better. You need to choose your best fighters. They’ll leave first, through the hidden door, with me. Two from each direction tackle the front guards, unlock the main doors, and then the dragonriders can escape on their dragons.’ He paused and looked at the older dragonriders. ‘I can get you out of the hall, but that bit is up to you. We need
to do it quickly, so the mist can cover your escape.’

  ‘But they took our blades,’ someone said.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ the spiky-haired man said, looking grim. ‘We can take them, trust me.’ He looked at Joe. ‘And then what?’

  ‘Find Isak and Luca on Sartola – they’ll welcome you. They’ll be planning to fight back, I’m sure. Join them. Then come back and save the island from the Brotherhood. We’ll send word if we can.’

  ‘What about Ando? He sounds too big for your hidden way, and he might not leave with us without Rosa. But we don’t know where she is,’ one woman said grimly. ‘Or if she’s even alive.’

  ‘Could someone persuade him to follow, communicating through their dragon?’ Joe asked.

  One of the young men nodded. ‘My dragon and I can try. We know Ando well.’

  ‘What about us?’ Flavia said. ‘Our dragons aren’t big enough to ride to Sartola! What’s this secret way, and where do we hide?’

  So she’d decided to trust him. Her cream-coloured dragon was the smallest in the dragonhall; his back came to her waist, almost ready to ride, but not yet. The dragon was staring at Joe intently, looking ready to scratch his eyes out if he upset Flavia again.

  ‘You’ll come with me into the underground tunnels, your dragons too,’ he answered her.

  ‘What tunnels?’ Flavia scoffed. ‘I’m not taking Elias into some hole underground.’

  ‘There’s a network of tunnels under the island. I’ve been living down there. With Winter,’ he told them.

  ‘So you’ve been right here all along?’ Flavia burst out accusingly. ‘But why—?’

  ‘I had to stay away till I was sure I’d changed. I didn’t want to risk hurting anyone, ever again.’ He held her gaze, hoping she’d hear the truth in his words. ‘But we have to go back now. Winter’s guarding our dragons …’ It was a relief to speak of Ren finally.