“He’s gotten away with it,” snarled Niger. “Again!”
My hands jumped up to my chest. “I thought he would at least get a flogging.”
“Diplomatic immunity.” Stafford shook his head. “Anyone else would have been thrown to the witches, beheaded or burned.”
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “BOO!”
“BOO!” shouted the warriors around me.
In moments, the entire stadium became filled with boos and hisses and jeers. Even the dragons snarled their displeasure.
Master Fosco sprang to his feet. “No!” He roared so loud all the booing stopped. Even King Magnar paused his prancing about to stare up at the royal box. “I have endured this farce of a trial, only for this wretch to gain diplomatic immunity. What now? What about justice?”
“King Magnar has a choice.” The Magistratus steepled his fingers. “He may either serve the rest of his exile in Steppe dependent on the hospitality of the Prince Regent or work here in Mount Fornax and make amends with those he subjugated.”
I glanced from Father to Master Fosco. Even from the distance, Father’s grin glinted with hatred and the promise of hurt. While Master Fosco’s eyes burned with rage, he seemed the less malicious of the pair.
King Magnar turned around and stared straight into my eyes. My stomach dropped. How did the maniac always seem to know where I sat?
“I’ll…” He cleared his throat. “I’d rather take my chances here in Mount Fornax.”
The Magistratus clapped his hands together. “Very well. All reparations from your previous misdeeds are now doubled, leaving you in debt to both Steppe and Mount Fornax. You have a year to start payments or you will find yourself cast out.”
King Magnar’s face dropped. “But—”
“There is no room for argument!” roared the old ogre. He turned to Master Fosco. “Do you have accommodations for King Magnar?”
“It will take the black dragons no time to construct a hut out of their dung.”
Niger threw his head back and roared with laughter. Stafford and I snickered. A life of dung would be the fitting punishment for King Magnar, considering he had swindled his way into getting the reward from The Dungman who became King.
Master Fosco stood. “As there will be no execution, we will have the next best thing. Dragon’s tears at the Warrior Queen tonight!”
Everybody cheered.
“We’d better go,” I whispered. “Muti and the others will be waiting for our signal soon.”
Niger gave me a grim nod. It was time to get our plan in motion before the Witch General returned to the Magical Militia. Fyrian met us outside the arena and dropped us off at the Healer’s Academy, where Master Jesper waited in the laboratory, its face grim.
My heart knocked a steady beat against my ribcage. This was the first time I’d ever been part of a clever plan. Normally, we would just face dangers as they came. Master Jesper handed Niger a Parched Sword and transformed him into Cadet Bluford.
Niger turned to us and grinned. “Good luck. I will try to outrun the witches for as long as I can.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. Someone so skilled on a dragon didn’t need any assurances, but I said, “I hope you and Fyrian work well together.”
He gave me a nod and strode out of the laboratory.
Stafford turned to me. “Are you going to be Niger, then?”
“I think that will be for the best,” said Master Jesper.
Moments later, the door swung open, and Phoenix stepped in. He took one look at me, and his eyes widened. “I just passed Cadet Bluford at the top of the stairs. Why is there another Cadet Bluford here?”
Chapter 18
I froze, caught in Phoenix’s burning, maroon gaze. We hadn’t even started the first part of our plan, and already we’d been caught. In a moment, he would work out our diversion scheme and inform Master Fosco and the witches. Silence stretched out and Master Jesper, Stafford, and I stood as still as toy soldiers watching the darkening expression on the young Dragon Master’s face.
“I asked a question,” he said, voice soft and patient and muffled by the pounding in my eardrums. “Why are there two Cadet Blufords?”
Master Jesper’s hand slid down its staff, and my stomach tightened. The magic of a single witch wouldn’t work against a dragon. After the Witch General had confiscated the snowman squash containing Master Jesper’s power, I doubted whether the troll’s stolen magic would be enough to erase Phoenix’s memories of having seen Niger’s disguise.
“We mean no harm or mischief,” said Master Jesper.
“Then explain yourselves,” replied Phoenix.
An idea popped into my head. It was a half-truth, but under such circumstances, the best I could muster. “It’s the Prince Regent. After that incident with Ivan trying to abduct me, he doesn’t want me associating with Evolene. I got a friend to pretend to be me at the Warrior Queen, so I could go to the Magical Militia headquarters and pay my last respects.”
“I’ll come with you,” he replied.
“No!” I glanced at Master Jesper, who grimaced. Stafford’s face had turned a ghastly pallor. The shallow breaths and tiny beads of sweat on his brow told me he wasn’t about to help me lie to Phoenix. I straightened only to keep my posture from sagging.
He stepped forward, brows furrowed. “Why not?”
“Y-you haven’t been approved by the witches,” I said. “They don’t let anyone into their headquarters unless they’ve made arrangements beforehand.”
Phoenix broke eye contact. The muscles around my mouth relaxed, and I exhaled. This excuse hadn’t even been a complete lie. He would have to believe me. Instead of turning around and leaving, his gaze lingered on the model of the capital that Master Jesper had left on the table.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Art.” I cringed. That hadn’t been my best answer. I glared at Master Jesper, who stared at Phoenix, face slack and expressionless. Surely someone as intelligent as him could concoct an excuse? Perhaps the Snow Queen made her trolls unable to tell lies.
He reached down, picked up the Magical Militia building and examined its underside. “The Witch General is in the Warrior Queen right now. Let’s ask her permission. I’m sure she won’t mind one extra person tagging along.”
His sidelong glance from Stafford’s stricken face to mine made my stomach flip like this morning’s Johnnycakes. Everything we had told him was a pack of lies, and he knew it. The worst part was that we could do nothing to stop him if he decided to tell the Witch General we were planning a prison break.
“You can trust him,” said Fyrian.
“He’s the most law-abiding person in Mount Fornax. The only thing I trust him to do is send us straight to Master Fosco.”
Phoenix folded his arms across his chest. “You’re not leaving on a visit, are you?”
“We are.” The transparent lie slipped from my lips.
He lifted his chin. “I want to help.”
I wrung my hands. “With what?”
“Evolene was my first non-dragon friend. She’s a good person who doesn’t deserve such misfortune.”
My neck muscles tensed, and I folded my arms across my chest. This wasn’t like Phoenix at all. Although he appeared to have once been friendly with Evolene, they hadn’t spent much time together since her first arrest. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought he had severed ties with her for her criminal activity.
I stared at the hand holding the model of the Magical Militia’s main building. It was steady, but that could mean he was a good liar. I couldn’t see Phoenix ever joining a mission to infiltrate the stronghold of Steppe’s oldest military establishment. Dragons weren’t even allowed out of Mount Fornax without a rider. Most ogres believed them to be little more than intelligent beasts and feared them for their destructive powers.
Someone as sensible and level-headed as Phoenix wouldn’t jeopardize the treaty the dragons had with Steppe just to save someone who wasn’t even the
same species.
“Trust him,” said Fyrian. “Phoenix has been asking about rescuing Evolene.”
“He was the mystery male in your stall?”
“Yes,” She replied. “I told him to wait until you’d worked out a plan with the others.”
My brows drew together. “Why didn’t you tell me when I asked?”
“He begged me to keep his secret. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I told someone else, would I?”
I gulped hard. After the incident where she entered our names to King Magnar’s tournament, Fyrian must have felt my disappointment, but she risked our bond to help someone who had desperately needed information on how to save Evolene. I had to admit she was right, but I also had to admit that it was time to set aside my hurt feelings and focus on what really mattered.
I turned to Master Jesper. “What do you think?”
“You know Master Phoenix best, Cadet,” replied the troll. “I will leave the decision to your judgment.”
I raised a shoulder. “Fyrian vouched for him, so I suppose he can join us.”
Phoenix blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
Stafford turned to me, color returning to his cheeks. “Are you sure?”
“Fyrian is,” I replied. “She has no reason to lie about it.”
“All right.” Master Jesper clapped its hands together. “Let’s leave this place before anyone else turns up. It’s time for part one of the plan to commence. We can dispense with the glacier wolves if Master Phoenix is willing to transport us to our destination.”
“Of course.” Phoenix placed the model back on the table. “Where should I take you?”
Phoenix led us to a grove of Marula trees arranged around a large clearing outside the lawn of the Healer’s Academy. A seaweed-colored dragon lay on its side, staring into the eyes of a dragon with vermillion scales. I had to squint to see the features of the green dragon, but I was sure it was the one who lived on Fyrian’s terrace.
“Is that Alga?” I asked out loud.
“I thought you’d forgotten his name,” said Fyrian.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re flying around in circles over the black dragons’ mounds and the rabbit rex field with half-a-dozen reds.”
I turned my gaze to the recumbent dragons. “What are those two doing?”
“Oh,” she replied. “Some older dragons like to eat spoiled fruit because it makes them giggly.”
Phoenix transformed but didn’t crouch down for us to climb onto his back. I turned to Stafford and Master Jesper, who each carried burlap sacks. “He wants you to cling onto his legs.”
“One moment.” Master Jesper pulled out two black cloaks from its sack. “Put these on. They’ll render you invisible to the wards.”
“Thanks.” I took mine and handed the other to Stafford. After my experience with the breathing parasols, I wasn’t about to put on anything Master Jesper gave me without first seeing what it did.
Stafford draped the cloak over his shoulders. The second he fastened it around his neck, the fabric molded around his arms and legs, forming something like an outer skin. He stared down at it and frowned, but at least he wasn’t thrashing about as he had with the tentacles. Once the cloak formed a tight hood, the color disappeared, and it became invisible.
He turned to me and scowled. “You knew something was going to happen.”
“Not really.” I put my cloak on and spread my arms. When it sealed around me and turned transparent, I added, “But I was curious to see if it did anything strange.”
Fyrian sent a visual of Muti standing atop a crimson dragon, shouting directions at his classmates. The male’s beard braids flew to the sides of his face like green wings. “Niger wants to know if you want to start the diversion.”
“Not until we’ve left the wards. I’ll let you know when.”
Phoenix let out an irritated snort, which I took to mean he wanted us to hurry. Each of us took a leg and clung tight. In the blink of an eye and a twist of the world, we were outside the wards of Mount Fornax underneath a pair of umbrella trees whose canopy was so dry, the edges of its yellow leaves crumbled like ash in the breeze.
We stepped off, and Phoenix reverted back to his human form.
“We’ve left the wards, now. Let Niger know it’s time.”
Something large rustled up above. I squinted up into the branches and caught sight of claws the size of sickles. “What is that?”
Phoenix glanced up. “It’s just an elephant vulture.”
“Stay still and it will go away,” said Master Jesper.
My throat spasmed. “I don’t think that’s how it works—”
The vulture swooped down and landed on the dry ground with a thud, making both Stafford and me jump. The creature stood four feet tall with a beak that could cut a human down like a scythe. It stared up at us with calculating eyes. For once, I avoided this predator’s gaze.
HURRRRRRRRRH!
The vulture’s guttural cry made my hair stand on end. I whispered, “It’s calling others.”
“His friends won’t thank him.” Phoenix pulled back his teeth and snarled.
The vulture took off into the skies and joined its comrades.
I clutched my chest. “Wretched creatures!”
“They’re chasing after us,” said Fyrian.
My head snapped up. Fyrian flew in the distance, flanked by six dragons of varying shades of red. I couldn’t see anyone else in the skies heading toward them. “Who? The Magical Militia?”
“I don’t know. Niger said they were witches on dragons. There’s no way I’m slowing down to check their uniforms.”
“Right.” I opened up our connection. “Do you need more power?”
“Hold on.” She paused for several moments, seeming to dip from side to side. “Dodging spell-fire is hard when you can’t see where it’s coming from!”
“Will you be all right?”
“I think so. Niger says there’s twelve of them. We’re going to keep dodging in case they combine their power.”
I relayed the information to the others. Phoenix placed his hand over his brow and squinted. “Fyrian has a good head start on them, but it’s only a matter of time before she reaches the wards and gets trapped. Let’s disappear before the witches fly close enough to spot us.”
“Could you take us to the mammoth farm a league to the east of Boneyard Beach?” asked Master Jesper.
“Why don’t we go straight to the water?” I asked.
“Eventually, the witches will investigate the prison-break, and we don’t want witnesses to mention having seen a purple dragon that transformed into a man. We can hire a couple of howdahs to take us out to sea.”
Phoenix nodded before transforming again.
I stepped on his leg and held on tight. “We’re going now. Be careful and remember, you want to get captured.”
“Good luck,” she said. “Niger said to make a crash landing whenever I want.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I won’t.”
This time, when we clung onto Phoenix’s legs, he crouched low before teleporting us behind the high walls of an enclosure of sandstone bricks. The low grunts and rumbles and trumpeting of mammoths filled the air, accompanied by the scent of dung, dry fur, and the faintest whiff of raw honey.
The afternoon sun bounced off the sandstone walls, making me wish I hadn’t run past the food and drink stalls at the end of King Magnar’s trial. I reached into my knapsack, slipped out my water skin, and took a long drag. The cold water slid down my throat and soothed my dry gullet, but it wasn’t the same as drinking straight from a spring.
We walked around to the gates and knocked. An eight-foot-tall ogre with a stubbly, oversized top lip that drooped at both edges like a manatee’s opened the door. He wore a long, linen tunic over his rotund body, belted with red silk over his gut.
The ogre’s beady, black eyes widened at the sight of Master Jesper. “How may I help
you, gentlemen?”
“We wish to hire two mammoths to take us to Occasus Cliff?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why would a troll and three dragon warrior cadets be interested in the most perilous part of the coast?”
“If you must know, I am their instructor, and it’s a matter of national security,” replied Master Jesper.
“Anyone who wants Seacow’s mammoths will have to tell Seacow what you want with them.” The ogre, who I supposed was called Seacow, rested stubby arms over his chest.
I stepped forward and placed a hand on Master Jesper’s bicep. “We could tell him if he goes through the magical security pact.”
Seacow squinted. “What are you talking about, boy?”
“It’s something we all did before this secret mission. There’s a glass ball that sucks a bit of our life-force. It forms a secure, magical pact between us all. If anyone talks about what we’re doing to someone outside the pact, the rest of their life-force gets sucked into the ball and they die.”
He shook his head, top lip wobbling like thickened meat broth. “No secret is worth an ogre’s life.”
“It is when it’s a matter of national security,” replied Master Jesper. “Will you allow us to hire the mammoths, or will we have to report your obstruction to our superiors?”
He pointed a podgy finger at Master Jesper. “Seacow wants no dragons disturbing his mammoths.”
Master Jesper reached into its cloak and pulled out a bag full of coins. “How much for the hire of two of your mounts?”
Seacow’s little eyes bulged, and his thick, white tongue darted out to lick the underside of his flabby lip. “A-all of it.”
I rolled my eyes and shared an exasperated look with Stafford. If we didn’t toughen up, we’d be stuck here all afternoon, negotiating with this greedy ogre.
Eventually, Master Jesper bargained him down to four gold coins. Seacow stepped aside and his nephews, a pair of twin half-giants, helped us mount. They rode the mammoths single file through a suburb of dry scrubland which contained walled, family compounds. The occasional horse or orlovi bird overtook us, and nobody paid us much attention.
“Fyri?”
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