Valley of the Dragons (Rule 9 Academy, #3)

by Rain, Elizabeth

  There wasn’t much worth smiling about. We were running into our worst nightmare and I wasn’t sure how many of us would survive. But I did anyway, matching the lopsided grin Nick sent my way as we ran faster.

  WE’D BEEN ON THE RUN for the better part of an hour and we still had better than a mile to go, most of it up. We weren’t fast enough; we wouldn’t be in time to warn them before the Hunters were on them. Most of the camp residents, though Dragons, were much like the citizens of Drae Hallow, experienced in the ways of being what they were, but ignorant in all manner of war. They hadn’t been exposed to the death and dying that we had. It would be a slaughter. It would be my nightmare come to life.

  “We need to go faster, dammit.” I panted, my breath sawing back and forth as I struggled to take in enough oxygen and calm my panic. Spots danced in front of my eyes and I knew I had to slow down. In our current condition, we’d be no good to anyone.

  Nick ran beside me, expression grim and determined. “We can’t move any faster than we are, Sadie. We have to be able to function when we get there.” He gasped.

  “Why not?” I hissed. “If I had my Dragon, I’d be there now.”

  He pursed his lips and shot back. “But I wouldn’t, and I don’t like you fighting alone.”

  I opened my mouth to blast him with something unkind and then stopped myself. I could take care of myself, thank you. But it was kinda nice to know somebody cared about what happened to me. I’d take it.

  “I had a dream last week.

  He looked at me, swiping at the sweat running into his eyes with his forearm.

  I spoke in gasps. But I had to tell him all of it. He had to know. “The camp was under attack and people were dying... you guys were dying, Nick. And I wasn’t strong enough, my Dragon wasn’t there in time. Shadowy figures killed every Magical and Other on the mountain down to the last man, woman and child like they were slaughtering cattle at a meat factory. And I couldn’t do anything.”

  “A dream, Sadie,” he gasped.

  I glared at him with haunted eyes. “But it’s coming true and I can’t bear it. I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to lose you.” There, I’d said it.

  He opened his mouth to say something back, but we were stopping.

  At Thomas’ weak wave of a hand, we all ground to a halt, hands on our knees as we attempted to catch our breath and grab a drink. We needed to take five minutes or risk not making it.

  Nick’s breath rattled beside me. I don’t know where he found the energy to talk, but he did. “That’s the thing, Sadie. You don’t have to save us all. Trust us to take care of ourselves and each other. We are a team and we work together.” We stared at each other, heads bent together, panting and exhausted. Sweat dripped off the end of my nose and plopped in the dirt at our feet.

  Nick gave me a lop-sided grin and my heart did a funny little flip. “Hey, you watch my back, and I’ll watch your backside, okay.”

  My eyes narrowed and I opened my mouth to blast his cheekiness. Before I could, he reached one long arm out and cupped the back of my neck and swooped in to claim my mouth in a kiss that made my toes curl. When he stepped away, all manner of thought had fled from my pickled brain.

  Thomas yelled from the front. “Let’s go, but pace yourselves. We need something left for when we get there or we’re no help to anyone.”

  As a unit, we jogged once more.

  Only five minutes later, we came around a curve and slid to a shocked halt.

  And then we were scrambling off the path as Jonah Whiting charged down the mountain straight at us. Hell lit his maniacal eyes as he swung his hands, a razor sharp scalpel in each tight fist. He was smiling, eyes light with madness.

  “Party, party, party beasties! I’m gonna have me some fun now!” he squealed, voice high and insane.

  How he’d managed to get from where we’d left him to here was a mystery. We all distinctly remembered knocking his crazy ass out and leaving him behind in the abandoned house. Somehow, between then and the time it took us to rescue Janice, he’d climbed ahead of us up the mountain and lay in wait.

  Now he was too fast and we were too slow as he screamed down the mountain towards us. Most of us scrambled out of the way as we struggled with packs and tried to call our magic down tired limbs. Fern, usually nimble as any sprite, hooked a boot over a root and fell backwards as he bore down on her.

  I screamed at the only person beside her close enough to help. “Jayne, stop him!”

  Why I thought an unarmed human could halt the assault of a madman, I would never know. He drew abreast of Fern, his eyes darting between the two of them and trying to decide on the easiest target.

  Jayne froze, utter terror blanking her expression. And then it was as if a switch clicked on. Jayne’s eyes took on a different hue, a fiery glow spreading as icy rage took over. I imagined I could feel the heat of that anger from where I stood. Jonah sensed the sudden danger too late, turning in her direction, bringing the razored blade in low. Jayne didn’t back away or cower in fear. Instead, she stepped forward and grabbed his descending arms, her small hands wrapping around each wrist. Her eyes flashed bright orange as she leaned in close and screamed at him.

  “Leave her alone, you monster!” she shouted. But rage was no match for his insanity, and he smiled as her arms trembled and began to fold under the pressure of his crazy. He felt the give as her arms buckled, his smile widening in anticipation. And then his expression changed and he opened his mouth wider and screamed. Smoke rose from where she gripped him and then burst into flames. He danced and struggled in vain as she held on, staying with him as first he pushed and then pulled to escape her.

  “I won’t let you hurt anyone else, Jonah. You are finished, you hear me? You are done.”

  The licking flames moved along his arms and over his body within seconds, way too fast to be natural. When he was fully engulfed, she shoved him away, backwards down the mountain. Our last sight of Jonah Whiting was as a flaming cannonball running down the road, his howl of agony echoing off the mountainside as he went.

  I turned back to look at Jayne, at the eerie glow that seemed to light her from the inside out as it faded.

  “What was that?’ Nick choked, echoing what we were all thinking.

  Confusion colored her blue eyes. “I don’t know. It has never happened before. Maybe it was him.”

  I shook my head. “No way. Just what are you? I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  Her chin notched up, and her eyes flashed defensively. “I’m just a human being.” She stated. But she didn’t sound so sure.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. Whatever you are, it’s not ‘just’ anything.”

  Thomas charged, “Well, as interesting as I find this, whatever it is, can we discuss it later? We are wasting time and we have a war to win. Let’s go.”

  I helped Fern up from where she was still sitting in a daze and we moved forward.

  We heard the familiar sounds of battle long before we crested the next rise and the opening to Basilisk Valley. Gunshots mingled with screams of terror and rage, and visions of my nightmare slammed into me. I needed my change; I craved the power of my Dragon, but I remembered what Franz had said to me and I hesitated. Not that it would have worked, anyway. I had no experience, no clue what I was about in transforming into a monster.

  Even so, as we approached, scales flattened and sprung up along my arms and back, and something more rippled and pulsed beneath my skin that hadn’t been there before, that I had no control over. My teeth sharpened and grew long, and I realized I was hungry and pissed all at once. I wanted Hunter blood. My fingers grew long and curved into talons sharp enough to cleave muscle and bone. I wondered if I were changing even now, but as we entered the opening and the battle lay spread before us, I somehow kept my humanity and drew my bow instead.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  FRANZ HOBERT STARED at a sea of expectant faces. The Dragons of Basilisk Valley, every adult over the age of
eighteen, gathered in the main cabin. It was crowded, most standing as the air conditioner struggled to keep up with the warm press of anxious bodies. He knew them all by name—every single one. He could claim to have been present for most of their births, all of their childhoods, and beyond.

  His eyes landed on the council members, seated with him at the table and whose experience he relied on as much as his own. Llyr Ryan, instructor in pyromancy and his lieutenant in arms, was there. As was Fergus Kelley and Bryn O’Sullivan, perky in her new straw hat, her sassy blond curls tumbling down her back. Finally, Rhiannon Byrne, his dearest friend and eldest besides himself in the valley, sat somberly at his right. There were others on the council as well, but these were the key voices and players in the room, and thus their word and opinion pulled the most weight.

  Their faces swam in front of his own for just a moment before he cleared his voice and attempted to adopt an expression of levity.

  He’d somehow let them down. He was an old dragon, and he was one of a minority in the room that remembered how they’d come to this valley. The heavy price that had been paid by those long buried.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve called you here to impart some grave news and so we might come together in agreement on what we do going forward. You’ve all heard the stories, grown up with them since you could crawl, most of you. How Basilisk Valley was formed from the survivors of that long ago day in the hills surrounding Salem, Massachusetts.

  “So many didn’t make it out, but those brave souls that did made their way to this valley and built this piece of land into a home and sanctuary for other dragons. We are free here and unfettered by the strictures and prejudice of the human world that guards their opinions too close.

  “We’ve claimed this valley now for nigh on 300 years. But nothing is forever. The news I bring you today will not be easy for you to take. But I tell you; if you value your lives and those of your families—listen closely.” He took a drink of water, gathering his courage.

  “We have existed on the outskirts of Purdy for close to a hundred years now, and though not always perfect, it has been mostly peaceful. I want to reaffirm that the town of Purdy and its inhabitants are not to blame here. They are not out to hunt us down. Most of them still have no idea we exist. A few of them do and guard our secret as closely as we do.

  “But there are those spanning our country who do not think the same. They see us, and all Magicals and Other, as an abomination. A threat to their way of life and safety, and something that needs to be eradicated like a disease. We’ve been lucky until now that our town and mountain haven’t fallen under their scrutiny before this. But our luck has run out.”

  Every face in the room stared in his direction, letting him talk and say his piece. There would be time when he finished for discussion and arguments if need be. But time was short, too. He could feel it slipping as cold as a knife between the itching of his shoulder blades. Death was coming and it was impatient.

  “All of you are familiar with the recent attacks on Magicals and Other in Purdy. The recent taking of Janice Whitmore was proof of that. What you didn’t know was that earlier this morning, the small group of Hunters, the Sawyer bunch we’ll call them, attacked the house where she was recovering to finish what they stared. They would have been successful if not for the intervention of a group of young Magicals who shall remain nameless.” He imagined there might have been a few snickers at his last statement. Almost everyone knew about the exploits of Sadie and her group of friends from the Magical town of Bitterroot. But this was a serious meeting. There was little room for laughter.

  “That’s not the worst of it. The Sawyers have called in reinforcements. The Hunters Guild, a hate group that has operated in other cities up and down the coast, has grown. And they come armed with guns and tranquilizers sporting a drug that will reverse or stall our change and incapacitate us. When they come, and they are coming as we speak, they will not be out to take us prisoner. They will be out to kill every man, woman and child on this mountain. Make no mistake, there will be no compassion given you, and you should give them no quarter either. If it comes to it, we are fighting for our very lives.

  “However...” He made sure he had their full attention. “I don’t think it is in our best interests to fight them. We have no guns; nor experience in battle. They have both. I think we will lose, and badly. If even one of them were to escape, they’d regroup and make their way to a bigger cell of Hunters and bring in further reinforcements.”

  “I think it’s time for our band to cut our losses and move once more. I think we need to leave Basilisk Valley while we still can.”

  At his last utterance of words, the room erupted into a pandemonium of argument. Sides were immediate and equal between those whose dragon fed ire rose to the fore. They were ready and willing to fight, despite the overwhelming odds against them. The other half, mainly comprised of married men and women, agreed with Franz. It would be better to flee and live than to die fighting a hopeless battle they couldn’t win.

  His council was no less divided as differing opinions made themselves known. “That’s outrageous! We’ve run enough. When does it stop Franz?” Fergus Kelley sputtered, not on board with pulling up roots.

  Right behind him was Bryn O’Sullivan, the youngest member at only forty-seven. “I agree. If we run Franz, then its only until next time. At some point we have to take the risk, fight for our freedom and right to exist in the open. I’m tired of hiding.”

  Franz sighed. “Maybe that’s true. But not today, and maybe not this time. There are women and children, the elderly... like me.” He attempted the last as a halfhearted jab at levity. No one was biting.

  Fergus kept on—his voice hard. “I’m tired of being on the receiving end of humanities whim. Every single man, woman, and child in this valley deserves justice. We have the right to be heard and counted as equals. How many in the town of Purdy would stand with us if they knew what we were? That some of the good citizens of their town that have lived with them peacefully for a hundred years are more than human? They are our neighbors and our friends. We’ve gone to barbecues and dances, attended school side by side, and more with them. When do we give them a chance to defend what’s theirs? Do we give most of them enough credit? I mean, sure there would be a few that would join the Hunters, would be aghast at Magicals and Others living in their midst. But I think that would be in the minority. I believe most of them would support us.”

  Beside him, Bryn nodded enthusiastically. There were numerous dragons in the room that looked equally eager to make a stand.

  But the older population seemed less sure; wisdom and experience telling them that things were not so simple.

  Llyr, who had been silent and taking everything in spoke up. “Maybe Fergus, you are right. Maybe the town of Purdy would stand with us. But the Hunter’s Guild vastly outnumbers even the town itself. They are widespread as Franz says. They’d only call in more and then you wouldn’t only be risking the lives of those of us on the mountain, you’d be putting the innocent citizens of Purdy at risk. Like many here, they are ill equipped to go to war. And I don’t think it’s fair to ask them to fight our battle for us. Not here and not like this.”

  Many respected Llyr, and his voice held a good deal of sway. Still, he hadn’t convinced everyone. Rhiannon stood up and the room fell silent. Next to Franz, she was easily the most respected Dragon in the Valley. She addressed her message to Bryn and Fergus, but her voice carried to every corner of the room.

  “It was my great niece, Ella Flynn, that called and warned us about what was coming. I think we should heed what she said and tuck in low. If that means we run, then so be it. You need to think, every single one of you, about what you would lose. It’s time to look beyond the existence we enjoy on this ridge at the edge of our Valley. Should we fight? I think the answer is yes. But I don’t think that fight should be today. I think we will need help from our fully human counterparts, those that will side with us. But
we’ll gain more supporters that way if we break it to them gently that the Godfathers of their children are actual flesh and scale dragons. The point is, when we fight and make that stand, it has to be a place and time of our own choosing, when we have done everything we can to blend our forces with those of the human population that would stand with us. Like Bryn and Fergus, I imagine that is a much larger percentage than we might think. But we need to be ready, all of us. The humans we know aren’t and neither are we. Running to survive is our only option for now. Change is coming, but we need to make sure we’re driving it, not reacting to it beneath of the crazed mania of the Hunters and their bitter prejudice.” Her voice dwindled to match the dead silence of the room.

  It was broken when the door suddenly crashed open behind them and slammed into the wall. Over the thresh hold staggered Marty Flannery. Eyes stark with fear, he fell to his knees, his breath sawing in panicked gasps as he struggled to speak. Livid scratches bisected his arms and shoulders, proof of his mad dash through the tangled woods up the mountainside. Other wounds were worse. Blood oozed from a pair of blackened holes high on his shoulder. Another graze, high on his thigh, dribbled blood onto the hardwood floor, seeping between the planks and disappearing into the wood.

  He finally found his words. “They are coming up the ridge and into the valley. They killed Robert, shot him dead. I saw.” His voice broke as the remembered horror moved through him. Robert had been more than just a fellow soldier. They’d been best friends since childhood.”

  Franz broke free from the shock that had grabbed hold of him when the young sentry had burst in on their meeting. It seemed the discussion was over and it was all for naught. The option to run had just been pulled off the plate.