Rise of the Dragons

by Angie Sage

  Decimus moved slowly along the remaining stretch of the wall, pondering the answers to his three questions. They were, as he had feared: yes, yes, and yes.

  Sometime later, inside his strong room, Edward picked up a send from his Lock. Time to talk, Lennix. Meet on your roof in ten minutes.

  A worm of worry twisted in Edward’s stomach—it was rare indeed for Decimus to do a distant send. He carefully put aside five charts and replaced the rest in their pigeonholes. Then he clambered up the ladder he used to reach the top shelves and pushed open a small hatch in the ceiling. Moments later he was standing in the deep, cold shadows on the flat lead roof, staring up into the mist, watching his Lock negotiate the narrow space between the rock face and the main block of the fortress. Edward smiled; he knew there was nothing Decimus liked so much as a challenging landing.

  Together the Locks rose up through the clingingly cold mist and emerged into the brilliant sun above. Decimus found a thermal, and with his great wings outstretched, he soared high into the deep blue sky while Edward looked down at the soft white blanket still cloaking Fortress Lennix far below. Now, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears—for it was at times possible for one dragon to pick up another’s send—they could talk freely. They were, as ever, of like mind, and it did not take them long to agree on a strategy.

  So that’s agreed, Lennix. We drive a wedge between Valkea and the tail-touchers. Divide her loyalties. Make them jealous.

  We keep her close, Edward clarified. Upgrade her to First Flight to replace the Blue.

  We split up her followers. Send them off to the four compass points on reconnaissance raids. Alone, Decimus sent.

  And while the troublemakers are out of the way, Edward said, we get that Silver egg.

  You bet we will, Lennix, Decimus sent. You bet.

  Pleased with their strategy, Decimus began a slow descent toward the mist and the problems that lurked beneath.

  That evening, at dusk, in a ceremony in front of the entire Raptor Roost, accompanied by dramatically flaming torches and the solemn beat of a drum, Valkea was inducted into the First Flight while her four conspirators looked on with thinly disguised envy. As they prepared reluctantly to leave on their own solitary missions, they kept glancing at Valkea, hoping that with her new status she would intervene. But Valkea turned away and headed off to join her flight. Valkea’s ex-comrades were sent off to the four points of the compass with deliberately vague orders to “search out rebellion” and not to return without proof. It was a nightmare mission in its vagueness and it was dangerous too, for a lone Raptor was a tempting target for isolated tribes seeking revenge. No one expected to see them again.

  Decimus watched the four Raptors flying away into the lonely night. Well done, Decimus; a masterstroke, if I may say so, Edward’s send came into Decimus’s thoughts. Decimus gave a bow of his head in acknowledgment and headed off to find his supper.

  The next five days at Fortress Lennix saw the First Flight leave at dawn and return at dusk. The first day, armed with his precious charts, Edward was confident of tracking the Silver, but they returned with nothing. The second day was the same. And the third, fourth, and fifth. By the sixth day, Edward was in despair; there was no sign of the Silver egg whatsoever. Where could it possibly be?

  Sirin was waiting for the social worker.

  She was sitting in the neat and tidy front room of Ellie’s house, stroking Sammi’s soft fur while she listened to the patter of rain falling on the dustbin in the tiny front garden. Ellie had gone to her skating lesson and her mum was upstairs working. Sirin had her homework to finish but there was no way she could concentrate on it. How was she meant to care about the history of the vacuum cleaner when she was already late for her visit to Mum?

  A short buzz on the doorbell sent Sirin running to answer. Ellie’s mum appeared at the top of the stairs. “You all right to get it?” she called down to Sirin.

  Sirin pulled open the door. Standing on the doorstep was her social worker, Anna, who she had met only yesterday. Anna’s pale yellow hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, she wore jeans and sneakers and a big orange, puffy jacket. She smiled very brightly at Sirin. “Really sorry I’m late, Sirin,” she said. “I expect you want to leave right now.”

  Sirin kissed Sammi good-bye, grabbed her coat, and, aware that Ellie’s mum was watching her go with relief, she hurried out, carefully closing the door behind her.

  “So,” said Anna cheerily as Sirin settled into the front seat of her tiny car, “how are things today?”

  “Okay,” Sirin mumbled, looking at her watch and thinking she’d only have half an hour with Mum tonight, if she was lucky.

  “Are you and Ellie friends again?” Anna asked as she turned onto the main road and joined a long line of cars.

  Sirin shook her head and stared at the traffic, wishing the cars would start moving. For the first few days, she and Ellie had had a great time together: talking late into the night, giggling and telling each other their secrets. But it had all gone wrong when Sirin had shown Ellie her dragonstone and Ellie had gotten jealous of it and then laughed at Sirin for believing in dragons. After that things had changed. At school Ellie had told their group of friends about the “stupid stuff” that Sirin believed in, and now they were all laughing at her too.

  “That’s a shame,” Anna said. “Is there anything I can help with there?”

  Sirin shook her head again and stared at the rain trickling down the window. There was nothing anyone could do about anything, she thought miserably. The car inched slowly forward while Sirin watched the minutes left for visiting time tick slowly away on her watch. “One drop of rain and everyone gets in their cars,” Anna said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there in time.”

  But they weren’t there in time. The hospital parking lot was full and Anna had to drive around it three times before she found a space. They arrived on the ward just as visiting time was ending. At the nurses’ station, Anna asked if Sirin could see her mother “for just a couple of minutes.” The nurse glanced anxiously down at Sirin and then back to Anna. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “We left a message. Mrs. Sharma has been moved to Intensive Care. She had an emergency procedure this afternoon. There were some … complications.”

  “Well,” Anna said to Sirin as they left the ward and headed for the elevators once again, “you didn’t miss visiting time after all.” Sirin wondered if Anna would be quite so cheerful if it were her mother in Intensive Care. She stared at the lighted numbers of the floors flashing by until they reached floor ten. Then the doors swished open and they set off down a hushed corridor with two double doors at the end, above which an illuminated sign reading INTENSIVE CARE UNIT shone with a dull yellow light.

  They stopped outside the doors and Sirin felt a big knot of worry tighten in her stomach. Anna pressed the entry button and while they waited to be let in, Anna took Sirin’s hand and gently squeezed it.

  While the First Flight searched in vain for the Silver egg, its ex-occupant stayed safe in the stone circle and the young dragon’s days settled down into a routine.

  Every morning Allie came with the breakfast basket and reassurances that the Zolls had no suspicions whatsoever, and every morning Joss questioned her closely, just to make sure. Joss could not relax; he was living for the moment when Lysander was big enough to fly them away and he was terrified that something would happen to stop it. Luckily Lysander seemed to have no worries at all. He ate his way steadily through the egg case and grew fast and strong. He slept all day and woke as soon as Joss put his foot on the first step up to the hut. Then they would race around playing chase-my-tail until Lysander fell asleep.

  Lysander grew fast. “Quicksilver by name, quicksilver by nature,” Allie reminded Joss one morning when Joss showed her how Lysander now almost filled the entire hut. “And it won’t be much longer before he’ll be big enough for us to fly away,” she said happily.

  Joss smiled. That day could not come too soon
.

  On the evening of the seventh day, with no sign of the Silver egg, Decimus and Edward took another solo flight above the mountains. “It’s not good, Decimus,” Edward said as they cruised below the highest peak of Mount Lennix, watching the first stars of the evening appear.

  Indeed, Decimus agreed. Valkea is using our failure as an excuse to make trouble again. We need to move her forward in the flight formation so we can keep an eye on her.

  “I wasn’t thinking of Valkea,” Edward said gloomily. “I was thinking of D’Mara. She is livid.”

  Decimus had no wish to waste his thoughts on D’Mara. Look, Lennix, he sent, I know we didn’t spot it last time, but maybe Ramon really did drop the egg near that stone circle.

  “I am beginning to think the same,” Edward admitted. “You remember that shepherd’s hut in the stone circle? Suppose the shepherd has hidden it there?”

  Or in the sheepfold? Decimus said.

  The two Locks pondered in silence for some minutes as Decimus flew out of the shadows and into the clear light of the evening. A magnificent panorama spread before them, wide grassy plains billowing like long, lazy ocean waves, and in the dim distance it was just possible to see the twinkling lights of the Zolls’ compound.

  Edward broke the silence. “We need to go back there. Check it out properly.”

  Just you and me.

  “At first light tomorrow.”

  We’ll stand the flight down. Give them a day’s rest. Apart from Valkea. I’ll keep her occupied with some raid-planning.

  “Good thinking,” Edward said.

  Pleased with their decision, Edward and Decimus glided slowly back to Fortress Lennix. They landed in the light of the newly lit torches of the landing yard, and as a night attendant ran to greet them, Decimus saw the familiar figure of D’Mara in her lookout window. He sent a message to his Lock: You’re welcome to spend tonight in my chamber, Lennix.

  “Good plan, Decimus,” said Edward, who had also spotted the spiky silhouette. “Very good plan indeed.”

  Decimus and Edward were not the only Locks up early the following morning—in a growth spurt just before dawn, Lysander finally outgrew the shepherd’s hut. The sudden push of a thick and muscular dragon tail was the last straw for the decrepit old planks, and they fell apart with an audible sigh of relief, taking the roof with them and sending it tumbling onto the dewy grass outside.

  Joss awoke with a shock and found himself staring up at a starry sky. He scrambled out from beneath Lysander’s wing, picking up a triumphant send from his Lock: Hey, I’ve killed the hut! Lysander hated sleeping in the hut and did not understand Joss’s refusal to allow him to sleep outside. But now, Lysander thought, Joss would have to.

  Joss jumped down from the wreckage and surveyed the remains of the hut in dismay. Lysander sat majestically on what was now a trolley surrounded by wooden debris; how the dragon had fit inside the hut Joss could not now imagine. He watched Lysander slowly stretch out his wings to their full span, the skin between the wing fingers shimmering like fine silvery leather. With his scales glimmering in the predawn light, Lysander lifted his head to the sky, flared his nostrils, and took a long, deep breath of fresh air—he looked magnificent. Joss thought he also looked rather smug. It’s not funny, Lysander, Joss sent. Anyone can see us now.

  Lysander was unconcerned. He was a dragon—a silver dragon—he was almost fully grown, and the world was at his feet. What did he care who could see him? Hey, Joss, don’t fuss, he sent, and then very slowly Lysander brought his wings down, then up, then down, and to both his and Joss’s wonder, he rose up into the air, squeaking with delight.

  Joss watched as Lysander, sparkling in the rapidly lightening sky, flew in a perfect circle, just above the tops of the ancient stones. A shiver ran through Joss as he followed every wingbeat, and he knew that he was not the first person to watch a silver dragon fly the circle. And neither, something told him, would he be the last. Lysander swooped gracefully in to touch down with such ease that it was hard to believe this was his first-ever landing. Lysander neatly folded his wings and, with his head to one side, regarded Joss as if to say: Look what I’ve just done!

  Lysander, Joss sent. That was amazing.

  You fly too! Lysander sent.

  Joss laughed. “I can’t fly. I haven’t got any wings.”

  Lysander made a snorting noise that Joss thought might be a laugh. I can see that. Those two little sticks with the bits on the end won’t get you very far. So you’ll have to borrow mine, won’t you? With that, Lysander knelt down.

  Joss did not need telling twice. He scrambled onto Lysander’s shoulders and slid down the smooth scales into the small dip just in front of the dragon’s shoulder, which felt like the natural place to sit. As soon as he was there, Joss felt at home. He placed his hands on either side of Lysander’s neck and, as Lysander stood up on all four feet, Joss felt the power of the muscles beneath him. Joss felt Lysander stretch out his wings, he felt a great sweep downward, and then it happened: Joss and Lysander rose up into the air on their first flight together.

  “Whoo-hoo!” Joss yelled, exhilarated at the speed the ground was disappearing beneath him and the sensation of the chill morning air rushing past. His knees gripped the muscles of Lysander’s neck and his hands rested easily upon the lower neck crest, which fitted his hand perfectly. Up, up they went until Joss saw far below the circle of stones like a small wheel of dots on the bright green of the grass, with the exploded hut as its hub. The sun was rising now, a huge pink ball creeping up over the misty green of the hills, and as he flew upon his silver dragon up into the pale blue sky dotted with little pink clouds, Joss knew he had never been so happy.

  And it was at the precise moment when all seemed perfect that a shadow moved over them. Joss looked up to see, far above, the great white belly of a massive red dragon marked with the three-pronged symbol of a Raptor. He froze, watching in terror as the Raptor tipped over into a steep dive, its huge black talons outstretched as it headed straight for them.

  “Lysander! Get out of the way!” Joss screamed. Lysander did not need telling—he was already wheeling away—but to Joss’s horror the dragon was shooting upward toward the oncoming Raptor. “No, no!” Joss yelled out as Lysander went rocketing past the Raptor’s snout, which belched a spume of brilliant orange fire, missing them by a whisker. As they zoomed past, Joss saw the dragon’s rider: a stocky, powerful man in a leather suit and winged black gloves, wearing a red sash emblazoned with the Lennix badge, and Joss knew this was Edward Lennix on Decimus. They were in deep trouble.

  Lysander flew even higher, rising like a skylark high into the sky, following a powerful instinct to find safety far above, with Decimus climbing rapidly after them. Joss wrapped his arms around Lysander’s neck, glancing back to see if they were outpacing Decimus. It did not look good. Lysander was a novice flier without his full muscle strength, and Joss saw at once that they had no hope of outflying their immensely powerful and determined pursuer. They rose upward, the chill of the air creeping into Joss’s bones. Joss looked down at the ground far below and felt quite dizzy—the stones in the circle looked like tiny dots. But even more frightening than the height was the sight of Decimus and Edward drawing ever nearer.

  Edward’s ferocious bellow reached Joss. “Give up, boy!” he shouted. “Take your dragon down or we’ll send you down in flames!”

  But Joss was not about to give up yet. He had seen a few Raptor battles and he knew that a small maneuverable dragon had advantages of his own, even against such a beast as Decimus. Lysander, Joss sent. You have to swerve, duck, or dive. Do something he doesn’t expect.

  And so Lysander did just that. In a sudden change of direction, he shot to his left and headed off, faster now that he was no longer climbing. Joss saw Decimus wheel around in confusion, and then, urged on by Edward’s shouts, set off in pursuit, flying fast and steady, giving the impression of limitless power at his disposal.

  Lysander, make zigzags, Jo
ss sent.

  But Lysander was tiring fast and could manage no more than a token wobble. Joss looked back to see Decimus coming up close behind them. In horrified fascination, he stared at the Raptor’s wide-open mouth, the lines of glistening yellow fangs, until he could bear it no more and squeezed his eyes tight shut. And then Joss felt a burst of heat as a spume of dragonfire hit Lysander’s tail.

  The flames fell away from Lysander’s silver scales like water from oiled feathers, but the shock of it caused him to shoot rapidly forward, hurtling toward a small cloud still pink with the dawn. Lysander felt strangely drawn to the cloud; it felt safe and welcoming as he plunged into it. At once Joss and Lysander felt a jolt run through them, as though they had been struck by lightning, and Joss screamed, thinking that Decimus had finally caught them.

  But it was not Decimus who had caught them: It was something much more powerful—a hidden portal to the place D’Mara called the Lost Lands. A portal that only a Silver could find. And so, like iron filings dragged to a magnet, they fell into a vortex of blinding white light, spinning as they went—and then, seconds later, as if they had been spat out, they went shooting into a misty sky, and Edward Lennix and Decimus were nowhere to be seen.

  Lysander’s send came through loud and excited: Hey, Joss, we did it!

  “You did it,” Joss said breathlessly. “That was amazing flying. How did you do that whirling stuff?”

  I don’t know, Lysander admitted. He stretched out his wings to relax his tired muscles and settled into a long, low glide. But as they slowly lost height, Joss began to get the feeling that something was not right. Although the familiar stone circle was coming into view below, it was somehow different. Not only was the hut gone, planks, trolley, and all, but the whole landscape had changed. The hills had flattened out into rolling downs of rich green rather than the Raptor-scorched earth that Joss was used to. There were strange bands of black laid across the green like ribbons, and fast-moving boxes of different colors were traveling along them. Joss could hear a constant low rumble like a grumbling volcano, and he thought the air smelled very odd. But the strangest thing of all was that his stone circle no longer stood alone but had buildings close by, rather like Compound Zoll, and the stones were surrounded by a tall fence as though they were in prison. And through the misty haze, Joss was astounded to see what looked like long lines of people walking around the outside of the fence. He had no idea that so many people existed.