The Secret World of Dragons

by Sandra Harvey

  Emma lowered herself off the dragon and looked up to Mystic, but the cat had already jumped off without her knowing.

  ‘Did it follow you any further?’ questioned Matt, his voice becoming anxious.

  Simon shook his head. ‘Nah, we lost it near the Dragon Shrine.’ He walked around to Redfyre’s left wing. ‘They’re faster than they used to be. Redfyre can’t outrun them, and I’m guessing he won’t be able to out-fly them, either.’

  Matt suddenly noticed the dragon’s injured wing. ‘What did you do?’ he demanded, rising to his feet.

  ‘Nothing,’ murmured Simon, inspecting the wound. The shape of the fence post pierced the thin membrane of Redfyre’s wing, leaving a small hole remaining. The blood had dried long before.

  Simon pointed to Mystic. ‘That stupid cat put some stupid idea in Red’s head.’

  Mystic growled up at the human. ‘We’re alive, aren’t we?’ he retorted.

  ‘Barely,’ grunted Simon.

  Matt walked over to the wound and examined it. ‘That should heal up without treatment,’ he said. He flashed a look between Simon and Mystic before sitting back down against Shartaug. ‘But maybe you both should be more careful next time. Redfyre depends upon you with his life, Simon.’

  ‘I know that,’ snapped the younger brother, sitting opposite to Matt. ‘I don’t need a lecture from you to understand how to take care of my dragon.’

  The discussion dropped and Emma took her place next to Simon, holding out her hands towards the warm glow of the fire. Mystic wandered over beside her and then laid down, his right side to the flames. His eyes glinted with the dancing embers.

  ‘What are they called?’ asked Emma quietly, trying to ease the tension in the secret room. ‘Those … things. They have a name, don’t they?’

  ‘They are called drayskuls,’ said Mystic, watching the fire consume another one of Matt’s thrown sticks.

  ‘Do they turn to stone too when they die?’ said Emma.

  Mystic closed his eyes. ‘No, they aren’t dragons. Not really. They just turn to dust.’

  ‘As they should,’ murmured Matt, tilting his head up to look at the roof of the White Rock. ‘Vanyir had no right to create those monsters.’

  ‘They were created?’ enquired Emma.

  ‘Bred would be the proper term,’ said Mystic. ‘G’zardac had but one hatchling that could never be considered a dragon: a black, female beast with disfigured features and a wild, uncontrollable temper. Her name was Drayskulla.’

  ‘That’s where the name came from,’ said Emma.

  ‘Yes,’ murmured Mystic, his eyes peeking open a tiny bit. ‘She was the first of the drayskuls. Although G’zardac had no desire to part with her, she left him and joined Vanyir.’ Mystic shook his head and then lowered it onto his paws. ‘I can’t understand – even to this day – why she did it.’

  ‘So ... what happened then?’ whispered Emma, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  ‘Vanyir disappeared for a long time,’ said Mystic. ‘In his absence, he experimented and researched all the possible ways of dragon breeding with Drayskulla. He was a smart man, but his intentions were immoral. His discoveries led to creatures that were half-dragon and half-monster, which would later be the steeds for his war.’

  ‘He still breeds those things now,’ murmured Matt, cracking off a stick. He poked at the fire with it, sending up a surge of embers. ‘He probably has enough to launch another war if he wanted.’

  ‘We aren’t going to discuss that,’ said Mystic firmly. ‘Vanyir certainly isn’t going to push his luck, not when what he wants is close. He knows that. He wouldn’t risk open war. He isn’t stupid.’

  ‘You don’t know what he’s thinking,’ muttered Matt. ‘Who knows what he wants …’

  The rest of the evening was much the same. Emma questioned Mystic about the stones and about Vanyir, to which he gave little information. She almost felt that he was hiding things from her. Matt kept the fire going, while Simon made himself scarce. Night came upon them swiftly, covering the White Rock’s centre in darkness. Only the slim shafts of moonlight touched the slanted floor, and the glow of the fire gave the room an orange covering.

  It was long into the dead of the night when Emma’s eyes flashed open. The fire had gone out, with only a few cinders gleaming underneath the charred wood. Mystic was curled up next to the lifeless fire, shivering from the night’s coldness. Both Matt and Simon laid against their dragons, lost in sleep.

  Emma sat up and rubbed her weary eyes, and then looked up towards the sky. At the centre of the jagged roof there was a hollow where the moon shone directly down into the concealed room. It was bright and full.

  She stood up and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep her body heat. Her feet carried her away from the others and towards the path they had came in through. The moonlight faded and for a few minutes of walking, she was lost in a pale dimness. Her hands guided her through the secret route, brushing over smooth and chalky rock, until she emerged out into the night air.

  The moonlight covered her once again, and she gazed upon the land that stretched out before her. The night seemed as beautiful as the day in this world. The sea of grass glistened with the luminosity of the moon and the surface of the long, snaking river shimmered. Wind rippled through the trees, gently rocking them back and forth, and the sound of rustling leaves came to Emma’s ears.

  It seemed so peaceful … so undisturbed. It was almost unbelievable that an evil force rested to the far east, threatening to destroy the existence of both dragons and humans.

  As if proving that malevolence existed, Emma noticed five shadows on the barren fields below. She withdrew away from the moonlight and hid inside the shade, but she kept her gaze on the figures below. Five pairs of red eyes flickered from left to right, moving slowly in the night. Even from the White Rock, Emma could still faintly hear their ragged breathing.

  ‘The drayskuls,’ she whispered aloud.

  ‘What are you doing up?’

  Emma gasped and spun around, covering her mouth to keep from being discovered by the creatures below. She did not know how well their hearing was.

  ‘Mystic!’ she hissed, seeing the cat come out from the shadows. He leaped up onto a higher rock and looked down across the land.

  ‘Five of them,’ said Mystic quietly, his eyes flicking from one drayskul to the next. ‘Five problems to deal with.’

  ‘Deal with?’ echoed Emma, as she glanced down at the monsters. ‘We could hardly outrun one. What makes you think we can handle all those in the morning?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything about handling anyone in the morning,’ murmured the cat. ‘I just stated that we have five problems to deal with. When we deal with them is another matter altogether, and currently stands as undecided. I just know that we can’t have five monsters on our tails. Imagine being hunted down by those things …’

  ‘I’d rather not,’ muttered Emma, wrapping her arms around herself in protection.

  ‘Then I suggest heading back inside,’ said Mystic, lying down on the raised rock shard. ‘I’ll make sure they don’t come any closer than they are. If they do, we’re practically secure anyhow. The White Rock is as hard as diamonds.’ He laid his head on his paws. ‘You get some sleep now. You’re safe.’

  Emma stared hard at the cat. ‘You always say that.’

  ‘Say what …?’ he murmured.

  ‘You’re safe,’ replied Emma, taking a step towards the secret route into the White Rock. ‘You always tell me that.’

  ‘Well … you are,’ said Mystic, turning his head away from her.

  Emma frowned, but said nothing else. She disappeared down into the shadows of the path, feeling her way back to the centre. Her hand suddenly brushed against a rough part of rock. She halted, moving her hand back to that spot. All the rocks were so smooth and without notches. It was too dark to make out, but she traced her fingers across the cuts, hoping to feel the shape instead of seeing it.

&n
bsp; ‘Letters,’ she whispered into the dimness. She smiled and curved her index finger up a stroke cut into the rock. It meandered back down, then up again, and down once more. ‘An M,’ she concluded. She continued tracing out the figures, revealing an I, an R, a T, and finally, an H.

  ‘Mirth,’ said Emma softly, and then touched a few more indentations after the name. They were numbers: 1, 3, and 5. ‘Mirth, 135.’ She pondered what that meant and finally decided, ‘Mirth, year 135.’

  As soon as she spoke the words aloud, something very strange happened to her. A sort of memory filled her head – a memory that she never had or knew existed. Two voices entered her mind. The first sounded strangely familiar, while the other reminded her of Matt.

  What are you doing? The voice laughed.

  I’m carving my name into the wall. Years later, people will remember me as a legendary Dragon Slayer.

  Emma let her hand slide from the wall. The memory vanished, the voices faded away, and she was left with two questions: Who was Mirth, and why did she suddenly have such a vision? She could not shake the words dragon and slayer out of her mind, either. Those two words did not make sense in the same sentence.

  She then concluded that many people had probably found the secret tunnel into the White Rock, and that many people had carved their names into the structure’s wall. With that conclusion, she headed back to the centre where the others were sleeping. The heavy breathing of the dragons filled the room when she entered and the light breathing of the Wheeler brothers seemed to be tailing right behind. The glowing embers of the fire had died while she had been away. She lay down on her back and gazed up at the roof of the White Rock, but she did not close her eyes.

  Her hand travelled to the stone in her pocket. An icy aura surrounded it. She held the cold stone between her fingers and studied it. How could something so small be worth so much trouble?

  She draped the chain around her neck and tucked the stone underneath her dark sweater. It felt cool against her chest, so she lay on her side, letting the stone fall away from her skin.

  Her thoughts were on her father now. He seemed so far away to her. He had no idea what sort of trouble she was in, or what a talking cat had planned for her future. The police were probably searching the entire length of Emburn for Lucas Reeve’s missing daughter.

  Unfortunately, no one from that world was educated about dragons or secret worlds.

  ~ Chapter Ten ~

  Back Home

  It had been many years since Lucas Reeve had ever let thoughts of that cursed necklace fill his head. Now the evil stone had claimed his daughter … his daughter! Of all the people to find the gem and take it … it had to be her. He thought he had hidden it well – inside the dusty piano room he had ordered Emma never to go into – but his judgement had been poor. Perhaps under his mattress or high in his closet would have been better hiding spots. Burying the case in the backyard would have been ideal.

  Luke stopped his silver Toyota car and pushed the gearshift into park. He glanced out his window and up the white, stone stairway of the Emburn Library. It had four large pillars outside the main doorway, holding up the slanted roof of the white-bricked building. It had been one of the first structures manufactured in Emburn, and one of Luke’s favourite places to visit.

  He stepped out of his car and shut the door behind him, locking it up with a button on his remote. He pocketed the key and hurried up the steps. At this time in the morning, he doubted the library would even be open, but he had searched all night for something he could not find. This place was his last hope.

  As he looked through the glass doorways of the library, he saw nothing but darkness inside, but he knew there was one person who never left the building. Luke pounded his hands against the glass, listened to them shake, and then stopped, waiting to see if he would answer.

  Five minutes passed, and Luke hammered his fist against the door again. A light flickered on down the long hallway of the library. Luke looked hopefully in, watching as more lights flooded the building. A man with wavy, golden hair appeared at the end of the hall. He stopped there, reached into his pocket, and fished out a pair of square glasses.

  ‘Nick, come on, let me in!’ called Luke, thumping the glass once more.

  Nicolas Shuster gaped at the dark-haired man outside the doors, ran a hand through his own mess of light curls, and then proceeded down the hallway in a hurry. He unclipped a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the doors.

  ‘About time,’ muttered Luke, letting himself into the library. He looked warily around. ‘There’s no one else here, is there?’

  ‘It’s five in the morning,’ said Nick grumpily, relocking the doors. ‘Who else would be here but me?’

  Luke nodded and slowly walked down the hallway towards the centre of the library, where every book he had ever read existed. The tall roof of the room extended up, revealing multiple storeys. The levels were accessible by stairways, which all had railings made from dark oak. Ladders were propped up against the shelves of thousands of books, while desks and chairs covered the floor. Luke sat down in one of those velvet chairs, but did not relax.

  Nick crossed his arms and stayed near the entrance of the room, his light eyes looking tired. ‘What do you want this time, Luke?’ he asked. ‘You never come unless you need something important.’

  ‘It is important,’ agreed Lucas Reeve sombrely. He leaned forward in the soft chair and placed his hands tightly together. ‘The stone has been taken, Nick. The Sapphire Stone.’

  Nick opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He instead licked his lips and darted from the room. Luke jumped up from his chair, panic rushing down over him. He chased after Nick, his footsteps echoing off every wall of the library.

  ‘Nick!’ he shouted, stopping in the middle of the hallway. He looked around, but there was no sign of the other man. ‘Nick, I swear, if you don’t come out –’

  ‘I’m up here!’

  Luke glanced above his head – to a terrace over the main hallway – and saw Nick with his hands against the wood railing. ‘What are you doing up there!’ he demanded.

  ‘Come up and see!’ shouted Nick.

  Luke sighed angrily and looked around for a way up. He spotted a dark gap in the wall to his left, questioned it, and then pushed his hand against the strange wall. It swung open like a door. He guessed that it was the same route Nick had taken. Luke also entered the passageway and found himself looking up a dark stairway. He slowly climbed up the stairs, listening as they creaked under his lingering steps.

  There was no secret door at the top. It was just an opening that led out onto the terrace, where – hidden from the eyes of people below – there was a desk. Nick was sitting to that desk, a pile of papers lying in front of him. Luke sat opposite to him in a chair with a carved back. The design was of two dragons tangled together with wings outstretched.

  ‘What are you doing, Nick?’ questioned Luke. ‘I didn’t come here to –’

  ‘Who took the stone?’ interrupted Nick.

  Luke sighed and rubbed his temples. ‘Emmaline took it,’ he said.

  Nick took off his glasses and glanced up at Luke through blue eyes. ‘Your Emmaline?’ he repeated. He suddenly let out a loud laugh and pointed the arm of his glasses at Luke. ‘Your daughter took the Sapphire Stone? And what does this mean? Has she run away with it or something?’

  Luke crossed his arms. ‘She’s gone into Dragonis with it,’ he calmly replied.

  That had stopped Nick’s laughter. He put his glasses back on and swallowed uneasily. ‘Are – are you sure?’ he questioned. ‘I mean, are you positive that she’s taken it there?’

  Luke nodded. ‘I think someone led her there,’ he said. ‘She couldn’t have found it all on her own.’

  ‘This is bad,’ murmured Nick, his hands shaking as he sifted through a few papers. ‘Do you know what could happen if the wrong person gets their hands on that stone?’

  ‘Of course I know what will happen,�
�� replied Luke, frowning. He took a deep breath. ‘Which is why I’m here.’

  Nick glanced sharply up at Luke, and then shook his head. ‘Oh, no way, nuh-uh,’ he said. ‘Don’t even think about it. I’m not going back –’

  ‘I didn’t say you had to go anywhere,’ cut in Luke. He glanced towards the papers on the desk. ‘You arrived here nearly twenty years ago, Nicolas. You’ve kept records since then, records of everyone who came through after you.’ He looked back up to Nick. ‘You also have records of the portals, am I right?’

  Nick leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m guessing you want me to tell you where the Emburn portal is, right?’

  Luke nodded. ‘Right,’ he said.

  Nick sighed and pushed the papers aside. He opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a red-cover book. He placed the hardback on the top of the desk, unbuckled the brown clasp that held it together and opened it.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Lucas?’ he questioned warily. ‘If you go back there …’

  ‘I know what might happen,’ said Luke quickly. He swallowed anxiously. ‘This is about Emmaline. I can’t let her go. I let Elizabeth go. I can’t lose her too.’

  ‘Elizabeth was a different story, Luke,’ said Nick quietly. ‘There is nothing to change the way things are. You know that.’

  Luke slowly nodded, his eyes glazed. He turned his gaze to his hands. ‘Just give me the location, Nick,’ he said softly.

  Nicolas let out a long sigh. ‘All right, if you know what you’re doing,’ he said. He flipped to the last page of the book, where the writing looked fresher and darker, and ran his finger down across the lines of finely written script.

  The portal had been closer than he had thought it to be. Ironically, it was only a few minutes from his house. Luke turned the car down a narrow road, the sun just peeking its way up over the horizon, and took in the sight of an abandoned part of the city. It was the perfect hiding spot for a magical gateway.

  He slowed the silver car and rolled down his window, reading the signs of the buildings to his left. Most had no identification, but he could tell a house apart from a store or a restaurant. What he was looking for was an old movie theatre. When Nick had told him the location of the portal, he had thought it to be in a cleverer place, but it was in a theatre – an old theatre that had been closed down for nearly ten years. If anything could be obvious to spot, it would be that.