Journey Across the Hidden Islands

by Sarah Beth Durst

  On the other hand . . . they had been strangely certain that the princesses shouldn’t try again and insistent that they not explore beyond the heart of the volcano. And they hadn’t been nearly as upset as their people. Could they have known all along that the princesses would fail?

  Before Kirro could answer, Ji-Lin said, “Alejan? Alejan, wake up!”

  Seika and Kirro rushed over to her. Alejan was curled beside a bowl of meat—​the dragon’s dinner. A chunk of half-chewed meat was stuck between his teeth. He was fast asleep. Ji-Lin was shaking him hard. “Please, wake up!”

  The lion only snored.

  Chapter

  Twenty

  JI-LIN CRADLED ALEJAN’S massive head. “Alejan? Please, wake up.” He couldn’t have just fallen asleep! Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She stroked his mane and then yelled in his ear. “Wake up!”

  “Shh!” Kirro and Seika both said.

  He was breathing heavily, evenly. “Please, Alejan,” she whispered. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he pawed at the stones, the way he did when he was deep in a dream. But he shouldn’t be asleep. It wasn’t natural. Maybe he was ill. Maybe the heat and stench of their walk into the volcano had made him sick. Or maybe the meat was old and rotten—​it didn’t look fresh. “I think he ate bad meat.”

  Seika knelt next to the food bowl. “Ji-Lin, look.” She pointed to a hint of white, bright against the dark meat. “Could it be a petal? I think it is.”

  Ji-Lin knew those petals. “Sleep flowers.” She glared at Alejan. “Couldn’t you have waited for breakfast?” Or looked at the food first? Or even thought for a second with his brain instead of his stomach!

  “This couldn’t have been a mistake,” Seika said. “You don’t accidentally mix flowers in meat. This was deliberate. The dragon was poisoned!”

  Ji-Lin felt anger grow in the base of her stomach. Someone had done this. No, not “someone.” Uncle Balez and Master Shai. It was their fortress, their Great Hall, their tapestry with the gash. And it wasn’t just that they kept the sleeping dragon a secret—​they caused this. It was their responsibility to leave offerings, like this bowl of meat, for the dragon. They’d given her the tainted meat, and the dragon, trusting her guardians, had eaten it. “They knew. That’s why they didn’t want us to go back in. That’s why they told us not to go beyond the bones. They didn’t want us to find her, to find what they’re doing to her.”

  “Wait, they put a sleeping potion in the dragon’s food?” Kirro said. “Whoa. I mean, I knew they hid the dragon. And they lied to you about it. And I guess . . . okay, yeah, it makes sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Seika said. “It doesn’t make any sense at all. This is the Dragon of Himitsu. She keeps us safe. Or did, when she was awake. Why would anyone risk the safety of everyone on the islands? Uncle Balez and Master Shai are the Guardians of the Shrine. It’s their job to watch over the volcano and protect the dragon. Not to . . . Not to . . .” She sputtered on the words.

  “Master Shai is a hero,” Ji-Lin said, feeling sick. “She fought koji. Saved a village from a lava flow all on her own and then flew the length of the Hundred Islands of Himitsu to warn the emperor—​or at least, that was one of the stories.” She thought of how many Master Shai stories she and Alejan had told each other. Master Shai had been their personal hero. Alejan practically worshiped her. He was going to be crushed when he woke and realized who had betrayed them. “Why would she do this?”

  “And Uncle Balez. Our own uncle!” Seika was pacing in tight circles between Alejan and the sleeping dragon. The lantern light bounced from wall to wall. “Father’s brother! How could he?”

  “Prince Balez wanted to know a lot about Zemyla,” Kirro offered. “Everything. He kept me talking the entire time you were getting ready for the ritual, and then after, he wanted to talk some more. He told me to stay behind and write down anything else I could think of that I hadn’t told him. He was kind of intense about it. Friendly, though. And he kept giving me snacks. To be perfectly honest, a part of me thought he was going to imprison me or chop me into pieces, but he just wanted to know about Zemyla. Like he wanted to plan a trip or something.”

  “It makes no sense at all,” Seika repeated. “It’s their responsibility to look after the dragon—​protect her, care for her, see to her needs. Not put her to sleep! Why would they do this? They’re the Guardians of the Shrine!” Ji-Lin nodded along with her as Seika paced back and forth in front of the sleeping dragon. They’d betrayed Himitsu, their people, the emperor, their family, everyone.

  “You’d have to ask them why,” Kirro said. “Except that would be really stupid, since they’re the bad guys and all. I mean, they might explain, but then they’d probably drop you off a cliff or shove you in a dungeon or something. Really don’t want to be in a dungeon.”

  “If she’s been asleep for a long time, that could explain why the barrier is failing,” Ji-Lin said, kneeling next to the bowl. She studied the meat again. It looked like it had been there for a while. “She’s not awake to maintain it.”

  “Then we need to wake her up, right?” Kirro said.

  There was an obvious solution. Irina flowers came in two parts: petals that put you to sleep and stems that woke you up. “We have to find irina stems. They grow in rocky areas. Should be easy to spot.” Ji-Lin remembered seeing them around the fortress on their walk up to the shrine.

  “If we can get out of the fortress,” Seika said. “You saw how many guards are here—​they swarmed on us when we came out of the sea. We’d have to get past them, and then back here with the flowers, without them noticing.”

  “We’ll have to be sneaky,” Kirro said.

  Ji-Lin stood. “You two stay here and guard Alejan.”

  “You can’t go alone!” Seika said.

  “Stay here, and stay safe,” Ji-Lin said. “I’ll be right back.” Without giving Seika a chance to argue, Ji-Lin sprinted through the tunnel. She left them with the lantern. As the light faded, she had to slow. She put her hand on the stone wall to guide her toward the Great Hall. As she walked, she tried not to think about what this all meant. Uncle Balez and Master Shai, traitors. Father had to be told. But first, we have to wake Alejan. And the dragon.

  She hurried to the tapestry—​and then stopped.

  Voices.

  There were people in the hall.

  Creeping forward, she peeked through the gash in the tapestry. Guards were standing in the hall, in front of the doors to the courtyard.

  She retreated.

  This wasn’t going to work. She’d never be able to get out of the fortress, find the flowers, and get back without their noticing. They’d see her, and chase her. Inching forward, Ji-Lin peeked again. There was a large window across the room. She could make it if she ran fast enough, but not without being seen, which would defeat the purpose.

  Ji-Lin went back into the tunnel. Alejan was asleep, and he wouldn’t wake without those flower stems. And Ji-Lin couldn’t do it on her own.

  Seika, Ji-Lin thought.

  Seika would have to get out safely, find the right flower, and handle the dragon on her own. Only a few days ago, Ji-Lin would have said she couldn’t do it. She’d have said Seika was too soft, too pretty, too weak. Ji-Lin was supposed to be her sword, her shield, her strength.

  But now . . . Seika can do it.

  She went back through the tunnel to tell her sister her plan.

  Seika had wanted an adventure, but this was not what she’d meant. Beside her, just behind the tapestry, Ji-Lin stretched, preparing herself to run. She was planning to carry her sword, to look more like a threat. She held it steady in one hand; then she rose onto one foot, lifted a leg, and twisted slowly, raising her arms and sword. She looked like a true warrior, Seika thought, albeit shorter and smaller than the palace guards.

  She hadn’t always been like this. Both of them used to be so clumsy that Master Pon, their etiquette tutor, would break down in tears. Seika remembered the time
Ji-Lin had tried to climb a trellis to a balcony and had torn the trellis off the wall, landing directly in a bed of rare roses. Another time, she’d knocked over a pyramid of dates and figs, spilling them all over the marble floor. And once, she’d torn a lace gown that she shouldn’t have been wearing anyway. It had been Mother’s, and they’d snuck into her closet, which had been preserved exactly the way it was when she was alive. They’d tried to mend the tear themselves and only made it look worse. One of the guards had found them in the closet crying, with the dress and a snarl of thread. He’d told Father, who had been furious. That felt like a lifetime ago. We’ve both changed, Seika thought.

  “Be careful,” Kirro whispered.

  “Stay hidden,” Ji-Lin told him.

  “But what if guards come? What if they see where you came from and investigate? What if they find Alejan? What if they’re dangerous?”

  “Call for me,” Ji-Lin said. “Be loud and annoying enough for me to hear you. And then retreat into the tunnel and hide in the shadows.”

  He swallowed. “You’re trusting me to protect your lion.”

  “I am,” Ji-Lin said.

  “I didn’t think you liked me, much less trusted me.”

  “That’s funny, because I didn’t,” Ji-Lin said. “But now I do.”

  Kirro blinked. “That’s . . . good?”

  “Just scream if you need me. But if you don’t . . . try not to make any noise at all, okay?” Ji-Lin peeked out through the gash in the tapestry. “Five guards.”

  I should stop this plan, Seika thought. Someone could get hurt. But they had to wake the dragon. More monsters would come if they didn’t. “Good luck,” she whispered.

  “You too.” Ji-Lin squeezed her hand. And then Ji-Lin burst out of the tapestry and ran across the room. She vaulted onto the windowsill. Peeking through the gash in the tapestry, Seika saw her silhouette clear against the sky. A guard shouted, spotting Ji-Lin as she leaped outside, onto a lower roof.

  All five guards rushed to the window.

  Keeping as quiet as she could, Seika crept from behind the tapestry, slinked along the edge of the room, and ran out the door. She knew what the flower looked like—​the memory was burned into her brain—​but it was still dark out, and she was stuck in the shadows. She hurried along the edge of the courtyard toward the stone path that led to the shrine.

  She climbed the path, looking on both sides. Little white flowers . . . little white flowers . . . little . . . There! A patch of them were clustered in between the rocks. Kneeling, she plucked as many as she could. She piled them all into her skirt. How many would it take to wake a dragon? She had no idea. Better take as many as she could carry.

  She heard more shouting and glanced at the palace.

  Ji-Lin was on the spine of the roof, running. Guards were chasing her, more than were in the hall. Ji-Lin wouldn’t be able to distract them forever. Soon she’d be caught—​unless Seika woke Alejan.

  Cradling the flowers, Seika ran back toward the Great Hall. She slipped inside.

  No guards.

  Good, she thought.

  She ran, her slippers silent on the stone, to the tapestry. She ducked into the darkness. Stumbling, hitting her toes on the rocks, she hurried through, ignoring the pain. She saw the amber glow of the lantern up ahead. “Kirro?” she whispered.

  “Here,” came a whisper back. “Wait, who’s there?”

  “It’s Seika.”

  “The lion is still asleep. He’s drooling a little, which is gross.”

  She saw him near the lantern, next to Alejan. The dragon was also still asleep. Dropping down, she quickly began to peel open the stems. She scooped the innards and smeared them on the lion’s lips, and then on his teeth. Kirro joined her, scooping out more stems and handing the white pulp to her.

  Alejan didn’t wake.

  He needed to taste it.

  Gathering courage, she reached her hand into the lion’s mouth.

  And Alejan’s eyes opened. She yanked her hand back away from his jaws. “Shh,” she said quickly. “Shh, Alejan. It’s me, Seika. Are you all right?”

  Groggily, he swung his head in both directions. “Ji-Lin.”

  “She needs you,” Seika said. “Go. She’s on the roof. I’ll be all right. Help her.”

  Scrambling to his paws, he pulled himself up. His first few steps were shaky, but then he was running out through the tunnel, toward the tapestry. And Seika was left alone with the dragon and the sailor boy.

  “How much do we need for the dragon?” he asked.

  “As much as it takes,” Seika said. As they continued to break open stems, she added, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Really?”

  “Are other Zemylans nice too?” If the dragon didn’t wake, they could be meeting a whole lot more Zemylans. She tried to imagine what that would be like. She thought of the maps she’d seen in the captain’s cabin: A coastline she’d never imagined. Cities. Towns. She knew Zemyla was a sprawling empire that held deserts and mountains, as well as the shore. She wondered what it would be like to see all that . . .

  She realized she’d slowed and was merely holding the irina stems. It’s enough to see the islands, she scolded herself. You don’t need any more adventure. She peeled the stems faster.

  “Some are nice; some aren’t. Probably the same as here. But there are plenty of good Zemylans your islanders could help if the barrier doesn’t come back. People should be told about waterhorse spit. And how to defeat a scylla. And we can show you things too—​we have these really smart scientists, and they’ve learned a lot in the last two hundred years. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen fireworks. We have the most incredible—​”

  “The barrier has to be fixed,” Seika said. “It’s the only way for my people to be safe.” It didn’t matter that she was now imagining a vast unexplored land, filled with people different from anyone she’d ever met . . . Kirro’s people have found ways to be safe, she thought, and then she shook her head, as if that would shake the uncomfortable thoughts out.

  “I just . . . If we can’t fix it . . . It could still be okay, that’s all I’m saying. You’d be part of the world again, instead of just hiding.”

  For an instant, Seika stopped peeling the stems. She stared at Kirro. “You don’t want the barrier fixed, do you? If you don’t want it fixed, why are you helping us?”

  “Because . . . I don’t know. You saved my life, all of you. And Ji-Lin said she trusted me. And this was the whole point in coming here, right? I just . . . I guess I trust you too. I know whatever you do, it’ll be the right thing.”

  She scooped up what they had and pushed it onto the dragon’s teeth, into her mouth. The dragon didn’t stir. Kirro handed Seika another lump of the white paste, and she smeared more on the dragon’s golden tongue.

  The tongue moved, pulled back into her mouth.

  Seika hopped from foot to foot. “It’s working! O Dragon of Himitsu, I am—​”

  All words died as the dragon lifted her massive head. She opened her eyes, and Seika saw fire within them, red and amber. She stared, transfixed, as the dragon opened her jaws and spoke. “I have been betrayed!” Her voice curled through the tunnels. It filled every bit of the air. Seika felt as if the dragon’s voice were clogging her head. It rolled through her and through the rocks.

  “Not by us!” Kirro yelped.

  Stepping forward, Seika raised her voice. “I am Seika d’Orina Amatimara Himit-Re, firstborn daughter of Emperor Yu-Senbi of Himitsu, and I have come to renew our bargain. Long have you protected our people—​”

  The dragon swung her head toward Seika. Hot air huffed from her nostrils. Her eyes swirled with flame colors. “The bargain has been broken. My egg has been taken. I saw him as I fell into my unnatural sleep. I saw a man steal my unborn child!”

  Seika gasped.

  “I knew there was an egg!” Kirro said. “Told you!” To the dragon, he said, “The bargain was to protect the egg, wasn’t it?” A
nd then he seemed to realize he was talking to an actual dragon, and he shrank back, curling against himself as if he could vanish if he tried hard enough.

  “Indeed,” the dragon said, “and the bargain is now broken!” She then howled so loudly the sound drove Seika to her knees.

  Seika squeezed her hands over her ears and shouted as loudly as she could, “But I’m here to renew it! I’m the heir! I came on the Emperor’s Journey! Even now my father sails to join us, to celebrate the renewed bargain. He should be nearly here.” She was not going to fail. Not now! She’d woken the dragon! Everything was supposed to be fixed!

  “Without my egg, there can be no bargain,” the dragon cried. “The emperor has broken his word! He failed to protect my egg! I shall have revenge!” She spread her wings, knocking into the sides of the tunnel. Rocks rained down, and Seika ducked. Kirro screamed.

  The dragon flapped her wings so hard that it created a gust of wind. She then ran the length of the tunnel and burst out of the tapestry. Seika and Kirro ran after her, reaching the hall in time to see her break through the roof. Stone cracked and then split, and rocks rained down. The dragon flew into the sky as dust rose around them, filling the hall with rubble.

  Three guards raced into the Great Hall, along with Uncle Balez. He halted when he saw Seika, looking from her to the rubble to the shadow of the dragon against the predawn sky. “Oh, Seika, what have you done?”

  “What have I done? What have you done? She says someone stole her egg! She blames Father! Says he swore to protect it. Says that was the bargain. I think—​I think she’s gone to attack him!” Seika pointed to the sky—​the shadow of the dragon was gone. She was already on her way, and who knew how close Father’s ship was?