by Jordan Rivet
She tried a different tactic. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “You know my name, but you haven’t told me yours. Friends should know each other’s names. Would it be okay if I give you one?”
The true dragon tilted its head and ceased chewing.
“I’ve been giving it lots of thought,” Selivia continued quickly. “You need a big, powerful name, of course. And you should also have an ancient name because you’re so old and . . . and . . .”
The dragon’s expression had turned flat. Maybe even offended.
“Venerable!” she squeaked. “You’re very venerable. You need a strong, respectable name. There’s this famous historian who wrote a bunch of the books in my father’s library. His name’s Merlin Mavril, and he’s super important.” She swallowed, hoping she hadn’t lost the dragon’s interest again. “Could I call you Mav? I think it’s a great name for a dragon. It could also be short for Maverick or Marvelous!”
The dragon made a sound deep in his throat. Was that a chuckle? Amused was a far sight better than indifferent. He returned to his dinner, no longer looking so annoyed.
“Mav it is, then.” Selivia grinned at the great creature, feeling as if she’d made a little progress. “Okay, Mav, how would you like to take a trip? I know this wonderful place—and it’s where Merlin Mavril himself is from!”
She launched into a fanciful description of Pendark that she hoped would inspire the true dragon to fly there—preferably with her on his back. She was listing all the delicious Pendarkan animals he could eat when his head shot up and he went utterly still. Selivia broke off her recitation of edible sea creatures. She scanned the plateau, but nothing moved around them. The sun was at its zenith, and a mirage shimmered in the distance. She couldn’t figure out what had caught the dragon’s attention. The Rock was as empty as it had been for the past week.
“What’s wrong?” Selivia said softly. “Did you hear—?”
Suddenly, Mav reared up and gave a terrifying roar. Selivia toppled backward in shock. Then a massive pair of wings rose above the eastern edge of the Rock. With a few powerful beats, a strange dragon soared out of the shimmering mirage and landed on the plateau in front of them.
Selivia gaped at the newcomer. Its wings were exactly the same shade of blue as the crisp summer sky—and they were covered in feathers! The long, luxurious feathers fluttered gently in the wind, and the wings themselves looked as powerful as those of a thunderbird. The feathers ended at the shoulder joints, giving way to a scaly body that was a deep golden bronze. The head was longer and thinner than Mav’s spiked one. Smooth bronze scales covered it except for a bright crest of blue and gold feathers. From the dragon’s beauty and the elegant arch of its body, Selivia got the distinct impression that this blue-and-gold vision was a girl.
Then the creature gave a vicious, bloodthirsty roar and advanced toward them. Mav’s answering snarl made the hair stand up on the back of Selivia’s neck. She didn’t dare get caught between these two. She started to scramble to the right, but Mav snapped his jaws in warning. She froze. She tried to move after a few seconds, but Mav snapped at her again. The message to stay put was clear. Mav prowled closer, so that Selivia rested between his huge clawed feet. Her heart thundered as if a dozen stallions were running through her chest.
The blue dragon halted a few dozen feet away, assessing the threat posed by its featherless counterpart. Selivia was surprised the newcomer had landed on the Rock at all instead of attacking Mav from the air. It crouched just out of reach, snarling like a feral dog, and eyed the half-eaten carcass Mav had dropped.
Selivia was so scared she didn’t think her limbs would obey her if she tried to move. Mav seemed more curious than afraid of the newcomer. It must have been a long time since he last saw a lady dragon. Selivia would have been more interested in the prospect of a great dragon romance if she were less terrified of being ripped to shreds.
The blue dragon stretched her feathered wings, growling at the black-and-green male, but she didn’t come any closer.
As the seconds passed without a fight breaking out between the two beasts, Selivia realized the blue-and-gold dragon’s movements were labored, ungainly. She had a distended belly that didn’t match the elegant lines of the rest of her body. Could she be pregnant? It was hard to believe a pregnant dragon would risk attacking an unknown male over a sand goat carcass. This must be one of the Cindral Forest true dragons carrying a bellyful of Watermight for the Soolen army. She hadn’t expected it to look so different from her Burnt Mountains friend.
Suddenly, the blue dragon lunged straight at Selivia. Mav gave a vicious snarl and snapped his jaws around the female dragon’s neck at the last second. Selivia scrambled backward, dust filling her eyes, her mouth. She couldn’t see! Snarls and cracks sounded around her. Something that might have been a feathered wing tip brushed her face. She rolled to the right, barely avoiding the deadly swing of Mav’s tail.
She managed to crawl a few dozen feet away—and not a moment too soon. The two dragons fought, snapping at each other’s necks, thrashing back and forth across the plateau. Angry snarls and the scrape of their claws on the rocks filled the air. Dust bloomed around them as the huge creatures tried to overpower each other. It was almost like watching a dance—a noisy, terrifying dance.
Mav was bigger than the blue dragon, but he had only just escaped after his long captivity. He wasn’t quite as strong and swift as he must have been a year ago. Fortunately, the blue dragon’s odd, bulbous belly impeded her movements, so Mav was able to hold his own. They flailed across the dirt, attempting to get their jaws around each other’s necks or knock their opponent down with their powerful tails.
Selivia crept farther from the action, trying not to draw the eye of either creature. It would only take one blast of dragon fire to burn her away to nothing. Come to think of it, why weren’t the dragons breathing fire at each other? Illustrations in old books showed dragons hurling fire all over the place, and Mav had used his liberally against the Soolen soldiers. Maybe fire-breathing creatures were immune to fire attacks from their fellows in the same way that Fireworkers couldn’t be burned like normal people. Perhaps those ancient artists had only added fire for effect when dragons battled each other. These two fought like lizards, all jaws and claws and muscular bodies straining for dominance.
Selivia wiped more dust out of her eyes. Mav was forcing the blue dragon farther and farther away from her. He grew more confident as he pushed his challenger toward the far side of Rock. The blue dragon would have to give up soon in the face of the more powerful creature. What was she waiting for?
Then Mav gave an almighty roar and rammed his spiny head into the blue dragon’s belly. She yelped, and a silver trickle appeared at her mouth, dripping into the dust.
I knew it! She is carrying Watermight!
The blue dragon couldn’t possibly win this fight when she was so full of the magical substance. She must have finally realized it, because she suddenly pulled away from Mav and retreated all the way to the cliff edge. Mav gave a roar of victory as his opponent prepared to take flight.
But as he reared on his hind legs to declare his triumph, another roar shattered the air. Two more dragons soared into view from below the plateau, flanking the blue dragon on either side. She turned, an unmistakably smug look in her golden eyes, and screeched at Mav. The two new dragons also had vast feathered wings that rippled in the sun. One was dark orange with hints of deep red, and one was as white as a furlingbird. Their overly full bellies revealed why they had come: Commander Brach’s Watermight supply was about to be replenished.
Mav was outnumbered now. He gave a strangled cry and retreated as the blue dragon’s friends streaked toward him. Mav may be bigger than each of the feathered dragons individually, but he stood no chance against the three of them together. With a great rush of black wings, he took flight.
“What about me!” Selivia screamed as he soared away from the Rock, heading for the horizon.
&nb
sp; It was a mistake. The blue dragon turned at her shout and gave a nightmarish shriek. Selivia lurched to her feet and bolted for the opposite side of the Rock. She’d never make it to safety in time. She ran through the swirling dust, fearing she wouldn’t even see the cliff edge before it dropped away beneath her feet.
Then a huge shadow soared overhead, and Mav alighted in front of her. Selivia hurled herself into him and scrambled up his hind leg. The instant she was secure on his back, Mav launched himself into the sky again.
Selivia clung to the blunt spines on Mav’s back as they left the Rock at last, shocked at how narrow her escape had been. She caught glimpses of colorful awnings fluttering across Sunset City and sunlight glinting on metal far below. A large encampment had been set up outside the city for Commander Brach’s men. Despite his defeat at the hands of Rafe Ruminor’s Fireworkers, the Soolen conqueror had plenty of soldiers left. It was only a matter of time before another battle kicked off between Ruminor and Brach, especially now that Commander Brach’s dragons had delivered more Watermight.
Selivia looked back at the Rock. A flutter of feathers and a whip of a scaled tail were all she could see of the three dragons, who lay claim to the plateau as she and Mav soared toward the sun.
6.
Vertigon
“THEY’VE taken him!”
The voice broke through Sora’s dreams. She sat up, trying to make sense of the deep shadows filling her bedchamber. Dawn had to be hours away yet.
A very tall figure was silhouetted in the doorway. He uncovered a Fire Lantern, and the light spilled over Sora’s blanket.
“It’s Kel, my queen,” said Oatin Wont. “Madame Ruminor just had a Fireworker drag him out of the barracks, saying something about how he conspired against her.”
Sora leapt from her bed and snatched up the nearest dress to tug over her thin nightgown. She shoved her feet hastily into a pair of slippers, wishing she had a weapon, though she had only rudimentary fighting skills. Steel wouldn’t be much use anyway.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
“The Great Hall,” Oat said. “Madame Ruminor is holding a trial.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“She’s desperate,” Oat said. “She knows your control over the city grows every day.”
Sora knotted her hands in her skirt as she and Oat darted from the tower and ran down the spiral staircase. Lima Ruminor was losing her grip on the kingdom of Vertigon. Her influence had already been waning as her relationship with her husband grew strained. Ever since Rafe departed with his army of soldiers and Fireworkers, Sora had been taking back control. She had stopped acquiescing to Lima’s demands and shying back from her intimidation tactics. When news reached them that Rafe had encountered Soolen magic wielders in Trure, Sora knew it was time to fight back. She may have allowed her people to march away on an ill-fated expedition, but by the time they returned—whether in victory or defeat—she intended to be the queen in truth. She made bold proclamations, including putting limits on the few remaining Fireworkers, all of whom were loyal to Lima. Her people had supported every move, knowing the Lantern Maker was far away. With every step, Sora grew bolder.
On the first day of summer, she had moved against the Fire Guild. She sent the Castle Guard to close down the organization that had been Lima’s domain for a decade. With most of the Workers away in the Lands Below, it had been a simple matter to take over this longstanding symbol of the Ruminors’ power. Without it, Lima lost control once and for all.
And now, not two days later, she had decided to retaliate. She thought she could take away the person Sora cared about most, did she? We’ll see about that. She wasn’t going to lose Kel now.
Sora and Oat swept up more guards as they ran through the castle. She had reached out to a number of older duelists—friends of Berg Doban—to shore up her loyal force after the younger men went to war. Six of them flanked her by the time she burst through the double doors into the Great Hall.
Darkness filled the vast chamber. It was cloudy outside, and not a hint of moonlight filtered through the tall windows. The long banquet tables were pushed back along the walls. A single Fire Lantern burned on the dais. And Lima Ruminor herself sat in the throne of the Amintelles.
Lima was dressed all in black. Her hair was piled on her head like an iron crown, and her face looked gaunt. Grim triumph burned in her eyes, laced with hints of madness.
A single guard stood at her side: Master Corren, the Firespinner. His hands were outstretched, golden embroidery glinting on his sleeves. A thin trail of liquid Fire flowed from his hands and encircled the neck of Kelad Korran—erstwhile dueling heartthrob and the man who held Sora’s happiness in the curve of his smile.
Master Corren looked worried, reluctant even, but his hands were steady. Lima had been watching the door as if she knew Sora would walk in at any moment. Her lips spread in a cruel smile when the queen and her guards marched up the center of the hall.
Sora got as close as she dared before stopping. Kel’s face was turned toward the dais, and she couldn’t see his expression. But she saw the cord of Fire around his neck clearly enough.
“There you are,” Lima said. “You missed the trial, I’m afraid. Kelad Korran has been found guilty of threatening the life of the acting Chief Regent”—Lima raised her head as she claimed the title—“and conspiring against the throne. You are just in time for the execution.”
“Stop this at once.” Sora was almost too terrified to think, but she forced as much dignity into her voice as she could muster. No matter how much progress she had made, in this moment, Lima held the power.
“Did you think he’d get away with threatening me?” Lima said. “Did you think you’d won? You made a mistake in taking the Fire Guild, girl.”
“The law does not permit clandestine trials like this,” Sora said. “You will release this young man at once.”
Master Corren looked back at her calmly, making no move to obey. A bead of sweat slid down Kel’s neck beneath the collar of Fire.
“I don’t think so,” Lima said. “You played a good game, child. I think Rafe was even proud of you. You’re certainly less of a disappointment than my own daughter turned out to be.” That cruel smile stretched wider. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve won.”
Lima turned to Master Corren, shadows swooping over her pinched, proud face, and blind panic shot through Sora like a bolt of lightning. She sensed Oat and the guards reacting on either side of her.
But Lima’s voice drowned out every other sound. “Cut off his head.”
“No!”
Master Corren gave his finger the barest twitch. The glowing cords of Fire tightened, like a razor wire pulled tight.
Time seemed to slow, as if the Great Hall were suddenly filled with water, or perhaps honey. As the razor of Fire moved, a faint burning smell seeped into the air. The glow dimmed as the Fire cut deeper into flesh.
Kel’s face was still turned toward Lima. Sora couldn’t even look at his eyes, couldn’t see the light leaving them as the Fire sliced through skin, muscle, bone.
But she saw his shoulders stiffen, saw him topple forward.
No. Please no. Sora lost all awareness of space and time as Kel fell. She didn’t care that Corren—the only Fireworker in the room—could easily turn his power on her next. She didn’t care that none of her guards would make an ounce of difference. For a single, terrible moment, she felt as if she had ceased to exist.
And then Master Corren spun on his heel and wrapped a rope of Fire around Lima Ruminor.
“What are you doing?”
“Enough, Lima,” Corren said softly. “You’ve taken it far enough.”
“Release me at once!” Lima screeched, quivering against the fiery bonds holding her tight.
“It’s already over,” Corren said. “We made the wrong choice. You and Rafe have led us to ruin.”
Corren turned to face Sora.
“Your Majesty,” he said. “For my p
art in the death of your royal father, I am sorry. I will submit myself to your judgment. My only request is that you bring Lima Ruminor to justice and return Vertigon to its former glory.”
Sora made a sound in her throat, still waiting for time to resume its usual speed. Lima looked deeply and irrevocably shocked, as the man who had been her strongest ally from the beginning tightened the band of Fire around her.
And then Kel got to his feet.
“That was a brilliant move, Master Corren,” he said. “Took me completely by surprise. Have you ever considered a career as a duelist?”
“I believe my future is in Queen Sora’s hands,” Master Corren said. “Thank you for playing along.”
Kel bowed, first to Corren and then to Sora, a smile filling his face. His beautiful, living face. Nothing in the world was real except for that face, that smile. Sora felt as if she had transformed into one pulsing heartbeat.
“You bastard!” Lima shrieked, shattering the moment.
“Take Madame Ruminor to the dungeon,” Sora said. It was nothing short of a miracle that she managed to form a coherent sentence. “Oat, go with him, if you please, and then find a guest chamber where Master Corren can stay for the time being.”
“Yes, my queen,” Oat said, sounding as shaken as Sora felt. He moved to Lima’s other side, too busy staring at Kel to do more than glance at the woman bound in Fire.
“You still won’t win,” Lima hissed as Corren tugged her past Sora on a leash of Fire. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You have no idea,” Lima repeated, a maniacal light flaring in her eyes. “But it is coming.”
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk over whatever is coming,” Sora said. “Perhaps when I visit you in your cell.”
Lima’s face darkened, but she didn’t resist as her captor escorted her across the Great Hall. The glow of her bonds disappeared through the double doors.