by Jordan Rivet
“I’ve heard of an old song,” Sora said, recalling when she and Kel hurried down the castle steps after Lima and Rafe to prevent a deadly clash at the gates. “I haven’t been able to find the complete lyrics in my father’s library. ‘In burning range, let not the wild Spring break, lest Fire spread across the land and bid true dragons wake.’”
“That is the first verse,” Lima said. “The dragons are drawn to the Fire. It’s connected to them more deeply than any human can understand. The best Wielders commune with their power in their souls. They learn to use their passion, their emotions, their very life force to control the Fire. A true dragon’s life force is Fire. They consider the substance theirs alone to command. When the Wielders take too much, the dragons notice.”
Sora frowned. Despite all the tutoring she had received as a princess, she’d never heard anyone speak of the true dragons this way. Too much of the ancient writing about them was fantastical and exaggerated—or so she thought.
“So Rafe roused the true dragons by messing with the Well and causing some kind of break at the Spring?”
“It’s not so straightforward,” Lima said, and her voice took on a familiar haughty tone—if slightly hoarse. “Nursery rhymes are not prophecies, and there is more to the legend than just breaking the Spring. Rafe did try to increase the capacity of the Well. He could have done it carefully and subtly, but the Square Workers attacked the Well and caused a surge that drew Fire in greater quantities than ever before.” Lima shifted her position, using her arm to push her lank hair back from her forehead. “Ever since then, Rafe has been nearly delirious in his efforts to draw out more Fire. I believe the last resupply for his invasion pushed the limits too far, and the true dragons couldn’t help but respond.”
“You’re saying the dragons responded to the huge withdrawals of power?”
“Unprecedented withdrawals.” Lima gave a dry laugh. “The Fireworkers have been sucking tremendous quantities of power out of the Well for the Fire Weapons. Rafe currently has in his possession more Fire than any Wielder has ever seen in their wildest dreams. I pity anyone who challenges him now.”
Sora felt as if they were finally getting somewhere. She held out the waterskin. “You thought this was a bad idea, even though it’s just a nursery rhyme, didn’t you?”
Lima accepted the water and took a long sip. “I knew Rafe couldn’t control the true dragons if they awakened. I have read enough of the ancient histories in my years at the Guild to be wary.”
“Has an attack like this happened before?”
“Not like this,” Lima said. “The true dragons have burned before, but I don’t know if they’ve ever roosted in a city in quite the same way. They seem to be making it their new home.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Sora stood and looked out at the refugees filling the echoing cavern. The remnants of her people. She believed more survivors were hiding in the mines on Village Peak, but too few had escaped the dragons. She had hoped the creatures would get tired of terrorizing the mountain and leave. Instead, they were settling in. She turned back to Lima. “Do you know the rest of the song?”
Lima rubbed at the dirt covering her fine dark skirt. The imposing woman still looked proud despite losing her allies, her position, even her home. At last, she looked up and recited in a cold, clear voice.
In burning range, let not the wild Spring break
Lest Fire spread across the land
And bid true dragons wake.
In drowning land, let not the dark Earth quake
Lest Water bind us in its hand
And bid true dragons wake.
In sighing rock, let not the harsh Wind take
Lest swift Air catch us in its band
And bid true dragons wake.
Lima’s voice echoed away, her face taking on an inscrutable look. Sora was about to ask whether Lima thought something had happened with the Watermight in Pendark and the Air in Trure to complete the triumvirate when Lima spoke again.
“There are two more verses to the original version, which is inscribed in an underground chamber in the Far Plains Rock,” she said. “They are not part of the song that people used to sing to their children.”
Sora waited, and Lima locked eyes with her as she recited:
Listen for the child of fire and rain,
Betwixt the mountain and the plain.
Gold will crown her and blood will claim.
Listen, for the child of fire and rain
Will bind the dragon to save the land,
And all will fear to speak her name.
“The child of fire and rain?” Sora said.
“‘Betwixt the mountain and the plain,’” Lima repeated. “‘Gold will crown her and blood will claim.’”
“But I’m a daughter of Vertigon and Trure,” Sora said. “So is my sister, for that matter. And I’m a queen with a crown.”
“Tell me,” Lima said dryly. “Do you know how to bind the dragons to save the land?”
Sora didn’t answer, still mulling over the words in the song. The Spring had broken, the Soolens had taken the Rock in the Far Plains, and the true dragons were certainly awake. If there’d been some sort of earthquake in Pendark, she couldn’t discount the rest of it. But she also couldn’t see how the fire and rain part made sense, and she had no idea how to bind a true dragon.
Lima gave her a cruel smile. “I told you nursery rhymes aren’t prophecies. You could drive yourself mad trying to figure it out.”
“Let’s talk about our immediate problem then.” Sora sat down beside the older woman again, rearranging the soot-stained green skirt she’d been wearing since they fled the castle. “Assuming neither one of us is this child of rain we’re supposed to be listening for, how can we fight the dragons?”
Lima sighed. “That is the problem. Fireworkers are no match for true dragons. They wield the same power. Fire will not harm the creatures. The Workers cannot challenge the dragons now that they have claimed this territory.”
“What are you saying?”
Lima met Sora’s eyes. Her gaze was gaunt, haunted. “I am saying Vertigon is lost. Rafe was so eager to carve out his dominion in the Lands Below in part because he suspected the dragons would take back the Fire Mountain one day. He intends to solidify his hold over the continent using the threat of the true dragons to force the others into submission. He will rule all the Lands Below.”
“So he’ll claim he can protect them, and they’ll bow before him.”
Lima’s thin lips curled into a smile. “Not a bad strategy, wouldn’t you say?”
“Only if it works,” Sora said. “Won’t the true dragons eventually go after the Lands Below too?”
“That was my concern as well,” Lima said. “I urged my husband not to push them too far. Now that the true dragons have awakened, they will begin to breed. Each generation will stretch farther across the continent, spreading their Fire and turning the land to ash. If their numbers grow, no one will stop them, not even Rafe.”
Fear curled through Sora’s belly. Lima had seen some of the greatest Fireworks ever performed. She knew the strength of the Vertigonian Workers more intimately than anyone else without the Spark. If she believed all was lost, did they have any chance of standing against the dragons?
Sora clenched her fists in her skirt, not allowing despair to take hold. “You’re wrong,” she said. “We’ll find a way to stop them.”
Lima snorted. “I admire your conviction, child, but it won’t be enough.”
“Queen Sora!” Taklin, the teenage boy who had joined her guard a few weeks ago, sprinted across the cavern to the alcove. “Master Kel is asking for you to join him, if you please, Your Majesty. Come quickly!”
Sora stood, looking down at Lima. “I won’t abandon Vertigon.”
“We shall see.”
Sora followed Taklin across the cave, pushing her sleeves above her elbows, and entered one of the tunnels. Their footsteps echoed in the close, airless spa
ce. Sweat tickled her scalp, and she pulled a scarf over her face as they got closer to the outside and smoke began to fill the tunnel.
“Almost there, my queen,” said the young guard.
“Was there an attack?” Sora asked.
“Master Kel will tell you everything.”
They reached the exit tunnel, where a beam of daylight knifed into the darkness. Her men had blocked most of the opening to make the tunnel entrance smaller. The true dragons had been attacking their hiding place in an almost leisurely fashion. They knew people were hiding underground, and they occasionally tried to smoke them out or catch them sneaking out on supply runs, but after gorging themselves during the attack, the dragons weren’t in a hurry to eat everyone at once.
Kel manned the guard station now. He wore a scarf around his nose, and a new burn lined the back of his once-blue coat. He squeezed Sora’s hand, not bothering to hide the affectionate gesture from Taklin and the men with him. They were little more than boys—all too young to join the army, but old enough to defend their homes against the monsters. They followed Kel with an enthusiasm bordering on reverence.
“You’re never going to believe this,” Kel said.
“What happened?”
“When I went out on a supply run a few hours ago, the dragons were concentrated in a single spot over on King’s. I figured they’d found a fresh meal and got on with my job.” He nodded at a particularly large jumble of salvaged food and waterskins piled in the tunnel. “They were still preoccupied when I brought this stuff back, so I went out for another load.”
Sora grimaced, but she didn’t chastise him. They were only supposed to go out once per supply run and always at different times of day to avoid being caught. But she trusted Kel to judge the situation appropriately.
“I crept a little closer to the Fissure than usual,” he continued eagerly. “I wanted to get my hands on the weapons in Stoneburner’s old forge. The dragons were still flying around the same greathouse. I got nearer and spotted a lone true dragon sitting on the roof, one I’ve never seen before. It was almost as big as the Red Devil.”
They had been keeping close track of all the true dragons in case they ever found a way to fight them. Twelve lived on the mountain now, each with names to differentiate them. The Red Devil was the clear leader. Then there was the Spiny Serpent, Goldie, the Ugly Bluebird. Were even more on the way?
“Are you sure this was a newcomer?” Sora asked.
“Definitely,” Kel said. “The others were shrieking at him and causing quite the commotion, but they didn’t get too close. I think maybe they knew him. He didn’t challenge the Red Devil’s leadership or anything, but when he roared at them to keep their distance, they obeyed.”
“Do you think he’s from another herd or something?” Sora asked. Did true dragons travel in herds? Covens? Swarms? Firelord, how many were there?
“Difficult to tell. They weren’t actually attacking him, even though he’s vastly outnumbered, but I haven’t told you the crazy part yet.” Kel pulled the smoke scarf down from his face, his expression a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Kel said, “but I saw something on the strange dragon’s back.”
Sora narrowed her eyes. “Just how close were you?”
“I got pretty near the bridges. Okay, maybe I walked a little way along Stork Bridge. That’s not important.” Kel took a deep breath and coughed as he inhaled dragon smoke. But he smiled at her, unmistakable hope in his eyes. “It was a person, Sora. Someone was riding the dragon.”
27.
Return
SELIVIA had imagined her return to Vertigon a thousand times. She would arrive at dawn and soar over the three peaks, her dragon’s shadow sliding over the marble greathouses and drawing every eye skyward. Everyone would be amazed to see the lost princess sitting atop the majestic creature. She’d be the talk of King’s Peak for months.
She’d been relieved when Mav carried her toward the mountains after the battle at the Stronghold. At first, she’d been too consumed with grief for her mother to care where they went. But the closer they got, the more certain she became that he was flying to Vertigon, not to his Burnt Mountains lair. It felt like nothing short of a miracle that he was taking her home. He had rescued her from the battle, but that didn’t mean she could control him. The prospect of seeing the mountain again eased her sorrow. She certainly didn’t anticipate that there would already be true dragons in Vertigon. And that her arrival wouldn’t be much fun after all.
She noticed something was amiss when they were still quite far out. The smoky haze over the mountain was thicker and blacker than usual. She feared the Lantern Maker had done something terrible. But the Lantern Maker was busy doing terrible things in the Lands Below. It couldn’t be him.
The smoke got worse as they drew nearer. Mav became agitated, tossing his head and beating his wings jerkily. Selivia could only hold on and fight against the dread bubbling up inside her. Then the first pair of strange true dragon wings broke through the smoke.
Selivia gaped as four true dragons flew out to meet them. Their wingspans were nearly as long as Mav’s, their hides an enticing array of jewel-bright colors. They screeched out greetings, sounding wary but not entirely hostile. Mav roared in response, and the dragons seemed to welcome him.
The four scouts soared around Mav, serving as escorts for their long-lost companion. Though nervous at the sight of so many sharp-clawed, fire-breathing creatures, Selivia thought they were going to be all right—until the other dragons noticed Mav was wearing a human girl as an ornament on his back.
The true dragons shrieked in confusion and pulled away, chattering rapidly to each other. Selivia clung to her perch as four pairs of razor-bright eyes fixed on her. The dragons didn’t attack, but they clearly didn’t approve of this development. Mav ignored their complaints and flew straight through the inky clouds encircling the mountain.
Selivia tore her gaze away from the four dragons as they broke through the gloom—and gasped. None of the terrors she had endured in the Lands Below had prepared her for what she saw.
Vertigon had burned. The steep slopes were a mess of sooty timber and vacant windows. Buildings teetered dangerously, many with crumpled walls and missing roofs. Trees that should have been vibrant with summer flowers looked scorched. The sight was so distressing Selivia barely paid attention to even more true dragons wheeling around the peaks and roosting on the cliffs.
“W-Where are all the people?” Her voice was stolen by the ashy wind whipping through the heights.
She held Mav tighter, eyes swimming as it dawned on her that she had been wrong all along. Ivran had told her the true dragons were wild beasts. He had warned her they were not the sweet, cuddly cur-dragons of her childhood. Commander Brach had said the same on more than one occasion. But she and Mav had gotten along so well. She’d refused to believe this kind of rank destruction was as natural to him as flying. Given the opportunity, her friend might have participated in the sack of Vertigon—and enjoyed it. Suddenly, his scales felt almost too hot to touch.
She had no choice but to stay on his back. They soared over Village Peak, and she spotted Stone Market, where the shops and stalls on both levels had been gutted. Soot smeared the rocky outcropping between the two levels of the market, where people used to sit and enjoy goat pies and salt cakes on summer days like this one. Now it was a barren patch of desiccated earth.
They swooped over Orchard Gorge, where the trees had been scorched in huge swaths. Bursts of green, red, and gold struggled to break through the layer of ash. The bridges had been hit at random. Some stood firm, while others had fallen into the Gorge, leaving only ropes and blackened slats hanging from their anchors. A poison-green dragon with huge spines on its tail perched at the end of one of the sturdier bridges, apparently claiming it for his roost.
King’s Peak had been hit the worst. The marble buildings only emphasized the black streaks on the walls and the gaping holes in
the grand façades. More dragons roosted here, all of them rearing up and snapping their jaws as Mav and Selivia arrived.
And the castle. The cozy fortress that had been Selivia’s home for her entire life was a ruin. One entire tower had fallen, and the others had clearly endured burst after burst of white-hot dragon fire. A huge dragon, bigger than the rest, circled above the castle as if claiming a kill. Its scales were bloodred, and its leathery wings were even bigger than Mav’s.
The red dragon gave a vicious roar as they approached, and Mav banked sharply at the warning. He circled around the slopes of Lower King’s Peak, giving Selivia a perfect view of the ruined greathouses and silent streets below. The red dragon watched their progress, waiting to see whether Mav would challenge it.
Instead, Mav settled down on top of an unoccupied greathouse and sat back on his hind legs. He flared his wings as if to emphasize how big he was and let out a snarl that echoed across the Fissure. Selivia knew better than to get off his back, even though all she wanted was to run through the streets and find someone, anyone still living. But she herself was only safe as Mav’s guest. She stayed where she was while he chattered and stormed at the other dragons. She’d never felt more terrified in her life—and she’d had plenty of occasions to be terrified by now. She had no idea what to do next.
The true dragons screeched and roared at each other for a very long time. Selivia guessed the other dragons were generally pleased—if surprised—to see Mav. Unfortunately, they seemed to think he should share the snack he carried on his back. Selivia’s limbs shook so hard she was afraid she’d vibrate right off her perch. She kept her head down, face plastered against the blistering emerald scales. She hoped Mav was arguing for her safety, not negotiating a price.
She had never wished she could communicate with dragons more. How did the Air Sensors do it? They had started this whole mess when they reached out to Mav in the first place. But she had only ever communicated with Air when someone else created a channel. She needed Ananova or Vine or poor Commander Brach. She wanted her mother, her sister, her brother. Someone who could hold her close and tell her everything would be okay, even though her beautiful home was in ruin.