The Secret World of Dragons

by Sandra Harvey

  The room was silent. Simon looked more nervous than ever. After hearing what Matt had said about Flynn’s history, Emma was feeling quite anxious as well. They were dealing with a real warrior here. Even Titus, Flynn’s own guard, was looking restless, his fingers wrapped tightly around his sword hilt.

  ‘I did.’

  Emma looked over her shoulder, surprised by the voice. She had forgotten about Mystic. Yet he still stood behind them, a dark shadow in the dimness of the room. Flynn released Matt, his face taking on a twisted expression of confusion and surprise. He moved past the group of humans, taking slow steps towards the cat. Mystic uneasily backed away from the thief and leaped up onto the desk in the corner.

  ‘Did you just speak?’ asked Flynn.

  ‘It spoke before too,’ added Titus quickly, ‘out by the town entrance.’

  Mystic turned his head towards Titus. ‘I’m not an it, you fool,’ he snapped.

  A look of bewilderment entered Flynn’s eyes, but it quickly changed to amazement. ‘A talking cat,’ he murmured. ‘I thought nothing of the sort existed, not even in this world.’

  Emma frowned, remembering what Mystic had said to her when they had first met. She had understood that talking cats were normal in his world – Dragonis – but Flynn seemed unusually surprised by the idea. Perhaps he had been only referring to himself and not any other animal of Dragonis.

  ‘You’ve been blessed by the dragons,’ said Flynn to the cat. ‘Haven’t you? They gave you the power of speech.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ retorted Mystic, his eyes growing dark. ‘I was born this way.’

  ‘Then you aren’t a cat,’ said Flynn, amused by his new discovery.

  Mystic snorted. ‘Why should I answer you?’ he said, lifting his head rather proudly. ‘A mere human has no right to question someone like me things like that, especially your class of human – a petty and pitiful thief.’

  He had gone too far. He had gone much too far. That was Mystic’s nature, after all, to anger those around him to the deep end.

  Flynn drew a knife from his side, raised it above the cat, and brought it swiftly down. Emma felt a scream erupt in her throat and she shielded her eyes with her hands, not wanting to see the end result. The sound of splintering wood filled her ears and she regretted not covering them when she had the chance … but she heard nothing else. Ignoring her feeble heart, she opened one eye and peeked out through the narrow bars of her fingers.

  To her surprise, Mystic had somehow dodged the knife and was now standing on top of it. He was balanced on the tip of the handle, gazing straight into Flynn’s bewildered eyes. The thief released his knife and took a brisk step back, while the cat stayed poised where he was, as motionless as a stone statue.

  Titus was in as much confusion as his leader. ‘What … what is it?’ he breathed.

  Flynn shook his head. ‘Not a cat, like I said.’

  Mystic stepped down from the knife handle, his footsteps silent on the desk surface. He gazed up at Flynn with a light touch to his mauve eyes. ‘Now, let’s get down to the main point of this whole conversation.’ He sat down. ‘You, thief, will let us stay in Gunclove tonight. There are Dark Riders behind us and unless we stay here, they’ll destroy us during the night. We are heading east, so we’ll be out of your hands in the morning. Understood?’

  Flynn scrunched up his face and crossed his arms. ‘I am the leader of a powerful clan of warriors. Generation after generation my family has led this village to prosperity and ensured its safety in times of need.’ He pointed a rough finger in Mystic’s direction. ‘Do you honestly expect me to listen to a talking … whatever you are? I am Flynn of the Dragon Marauders, not some common thief, like you state.’

  ‘I don’t expect you to listen to anything I say,’ said Mystic shrewdly. ‘I just expect you to do it like any good leader would.’ He jumped from the desk to the floor and wandered over to sit by Emma’s feet. ‘After all, if you do send us away and the Dark Riders slaughter us in the Outlands, I’ll make sure to get the word out to them that the man who slain one of their brethren is hiding in Gunclove.’

  ‘Blackmail,’ growled Flynn, his hands curling into fists. ‘Even thieves dare not to drop so low.’

  Mystic shrugged. ‘If the situation calls for it, then I use it.’

  Flynn glared for a moment longer, and then looked to Titus. ‘Show them to the inn,’ he said gruffly, clearly angry of how the situation had ended. ‘Don’t let them out, though. Make sure they’re watched.’

  Titus nodded, and motioned for the visitors of Gunclove to follow him, which they did, along with the satisfied creature known as Mystic the Cat.

  ~ Chapter Thirteen ~

  Story of a Child

  The sun was lingering on the edge of the horizon when Titus pushed back the old cloth of the inn’s doorway. It was a building composed of three storeys, with four windows on each level and a slanted roof. Inside, a purple mat covered the entire length of the main room, where a desk stood at the back, an older woman with her greying hair wrapped up in a shawl standing behind it. The Gunclove guard talked things over with the woman, and she wrote what he said on paper.

  ‘It seems awfully weird for a place that hates visitors to have an inn,’ murmured Simon to Emma, who smiled and tried to hide it.

  ‘Your rooms are on the top floor,’ said Titus, his hair and face now concealed under fabrics again. Only his strange, grey eyes shone out through the gap. ‘The last two doors at the end of the hallway.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Matt, and he headed off towards the stairway.

  Simon and Mystic followed him, but Emma lingered. There was something she wanted to ask the guard, who seemed eager to leave the inn. She touched his shoulder as he moved towards the doorway, hoping that he would stop.

  He did.

  ‘When you said, “they might be able to help us”, what did you mean?’ she asked quietly.

  Titus seemed hesitant to answer her, as he glanced towards the stairway where her friends were almost out of sight, and then to the woman behind the desk. He finally replied, ‘I shouldn’t whisper a word of it, but I don’t believe that you mean us any harm, or that you belong to Vashgal.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You heard your friend say that Flynn defeated a drayskul, but that isn’t half of the story. I think the … the cat, knows a bit more about it, but it … I mean he … didn’t say anything.’

  ‘What does he know?’ questioned Emma, very curious now.

  ‘That Flynn has a sister,’ whispered Titus forlornly. ‘She was captured by the Dark Riders. He fought to save her … and failed. Her name was Sheena.’

  Just the way he told the gloomy story made Emma believe that Titus wanted to save the girl just as much as Flynn did – maybe more.

  ‘So why did you think that we could help?’ she prodded further. ‘We’re just travellers.’

  Titus looked back towards the stairway, one hand on the cloth of the inn’s doorway. ‘I believe you and your friends are all very important,’ he said softly, and then disappeared out onto the street.

  Those lingering words made Emma feel extremely uncomfortable. It was as though he knew what their future held.

  She moved away from the door and hurried up the stairway, almost bumping into Simon, who had turned around and was now running down the steps.

  ‘There you are.’ He grinned. ‘Mystic thought we’d lost you.’

  The two of them headed up to the third level, where a troubled Matt was looking out the small window at the end of the narrow hallway, and an impatient cat paced the floor behind him. Only four rooms existed on the top storey of the inn, and theirs were the last two.

  ‘Don’t wander off,’ Mystic growled when he saw her walking towards him. He vanished into the room to the left before she could say anything.

  Matt smirked and pushed back the cloth of the room on the right. He glanced at Emma. ‘You get the cat,’ he teased. ‘Have fun.’

  Simon flashed Emma a worried look, but t
hen followed his brother into their room. ‘Good night,’ he said.

  ‘Night,’ murmured Emma, and headed into her own room.

  Brightly coloured rugs covered the floor, along with a few pots of green plants in one corner. Two beds were in the room, and a tiny table sat between them. Emma wandered past them though, and towards the window that overlooked the town. She placed her hands on the sill and stuck her head out the hollow square, viewing the world below.

  The sun had finally set and darkness was creeping up over Gunclove. The children had gone in, as far as she could tell, and it suddenly seemed like a ghost town. The wind had grown cold and Emma wondered why there were no shutters on the windows.

  It was then that she saw the figures on the roofs: Gunclove guards, all draped up in baggy clothes, scarves and hoods with long swords at their sides. It seemed as though they were preparing for something.

  ‘The whole village is on edge now.’ Mystic’s voice came from behind. It had startled Emma, but she tried not to show her surprise. Instead, she turned around to see the cat lying on the edge of the bed closest to the door, his paws crossed over and his head resting on top of them. She moved away from the window and sat on her own bed, glad to be taking a break from all the walking.

  ‘They think the drayskuls will come here,’ continued Mystic, speaking as though it did not matter if they came or not. ‘Flynn has his guards all out on patrol, not that they can do much against five Dark Riders and their monsters.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very encouraging, Mystic,’ murmured Emma, pulling her sweater back over her head. It was cold enough for extra clothes now.

  The cat mulled this over in his tiny head. ‘Would you rather I lie?’

  Emma smiled. ‘No,’ she said, crossing her legs on the bed. ‘But since you pretty much know everything about this world, I wouldn’t mind a story.’

  Mystic lifted his head and glanced towards her, his eyes lighter than ever. ‘A story?’ he murmured.

  ‘Yes, something about this world,’ said Emma thoughtfully. ‘You don’t have to talk about Vanyir or Vashgal if you don’t want to.’

  Mystic closed his eyes and laid his head back down. Amusement filled his voice. ‘Vashgal never existed until Dragon City was destroyed … not in its present evil form, at least,’ he said, ‘but I’ll tell you an interesting story about the old world if you’d like.’

  Emma kicked off her sneakers and got into bed, and for a second, she remembered how her father would tell her stories before bed when she was younger. She washed the memory away, however, and sat up against the wall behind the bed, waiting for the cat’s tale. Anything to keep her mind off Dark Riders, drayskuls, and evil villains would be perfect to help her fall asleep.

  ‘I will tell you about …’ The cat paused, probably searching his mind for a suitable story. He seemed to smile in the dark room. ‘I will tell you about the Dragon Child.’

  ‘What’s that?’ murmured Emma, sliding down under the bedcovers. ‘A hatchling of a dragon?’

  ‘No,’ said Mystic, his voice low. ‘A Dragon Child is the child of a dragon … and a human.’

  Emma closed her eyes and smiled. ‘That’s impossible,’ she said. ‘Is this a fairytale? I like those best.’

  Mystic sighed. ‘It’s an old myth,’ he explained. ‘Just listen.’

  ‘Okay,’ agreed Emma. She shut her mouth and tried not to interrupt the cat again.

  ‘According to legend, a long time ago G’zardac chose a maiden from the south to bear a child through magic. Some people disbelieve that such magic exists, but it’s a rare trait that only G’zardac possesses.’ Mystic yawned sleepily. ‘The child was to grow up with all the knowledge, power, and magic of a dragon. G’zardac originally intended for the child to save the dragons from their fate, but time was running short and he had to resort to using his own magic.’ Mystic gave Emma a knowing glance. ‘That’s when the Dragon’s Tear came into play.

  ‘But G’zardac soon realized that the Dragon Child grew more quickly than a normal human. By then it was too late.’ Mystic pressed his head into his paws, muffling his voice. ‘Vanyir had already broken the Dragon’s Tear and G’zardac was turned to stone, forever trapped unless someone could save him. The Dragon Child left Vashgal afterwards, seeking to help its father ... but sadly it never got the chance.’

  Emma frowned, thinking that this story had the grimmest ending ever. ‘But ... what happened to the Dragon Child? That can’t be the ending.’

  ‘It’s still out there somewhere, I guess,’ replied the cat. ‘People say it disappeared off the face of the earth – just like Lucian.’

  ‘Then ... someone could find it ... if they searched hard enough?’

  ‘I suppose,’ murmured Mystic.

  ‘Do you think we could run into the Dragon Child?’ Emma smiled at the idea of meeting such a wonderful kind of creature, but her grin withered into a sullen look. ‘Do you think it’s all alone?’

  Mystic slowly turned his head towards her. ‘Alone?’

  ‘The Dragon Child ... it must be all alone out there in the world, being the only one of its kind.’ Emma chewed at her lip. ‘Do you think it’s lonely by itself?’

  Mystic snorted. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he muttered. ‘Why on earth would such a gifted creature be lonely? I expect it’s quite happy, to be honest.’

  Emma was hesitant to agree. ‘I don’t think so. I think being one of a kind must be hard. I mean, if there’s no one else like you –’

  Mystic gave an irritated sigh. ‘Go to bed, Emma.’

  Emma frowned and looked up at the cracked roof of the room. The moon was very bright tonight. ‘Why are you always so one-sided?’ she asked quietly. She waited for a response, but there was nothing but silence. She curved her head to look at the cat. ‘Mystic?’

  Mystic did not answer her. She figured he must have fallen asleep or else he would have come up with some sort of snappy remark to her question. Disappointed of the story’s abrupt ending, she closed her eyes again and turned away from the cat. Her body felt extremely weary. She had never travelled so far in such a short amount of time.

  Even as she drifted off to sleep, she thought she could hear a quiet voice whisper into her ear.

  Some things are better left unsaid.

  Sometimes Emma did not dream at all, but tonight she did dream. It felt more like a lucid dream to her, as her consciousness was very much there. She knew she was standing in the streets of Dwenin, but when she opened her eyes it was a completely different scene.

  The walls and houses gave way, the picket fences seemed to evaporate right before her, and the hard roads underneath her feet turned to grey stone. Metal towers stretched up in front of her eyes, along with statues, engraved signs, and steel bridges that linked through buildings, pipes, and cogs. Although this new and frighteningly strange world was incredibly large, there were no people. She heard the sound of their voices though, and the grunts and swift footsteps of dragons. Waves crashed behind her and she turned to see a river.

  ‘Serpent’s Pass,’ she whispered.

  Then she heard something that drowned away all other sounds.

  Back here then? It was that voice: the voice that owned a friend named Mirth.

  Emma searched the streets, eager to find the owner of the voice, but there was no one. It was empty.

  She then started walking. She did not know where she was going, but she had to find him.

  Getting tired of my home already? At least I don’t live below ground.

  ‘Mirth,’ said Emma aloud, recognizing the second voice. She broke into a run, heading down a deserted street to her left. She passed a blacksmith’s shop and a restaurant, but saw no people inside. Her feet felt heavier the further down the street she ran, but she had to keep going.

  Soon Mirth’s Materials will open right next to it.

  Emma paused at the end of the street, unusually tired. The dream was having strange effects on her.

  Mirth’s Materials?
The other voice laughed. That isn’t a very good name.

  Emma panted and turned her head to look down the adjoining street. Her eyes widened when she saw two figures standing at the very end. They both had their backs turned to her.

  What, do you have a better name? asked Mirth. He was standing to the right, dressed in all black with a broad sword resting on his shoulder. His face – and the face of his companion – was blurred.

  I do, actually. Let’s call it M & L’s Trading Post.

  Emma sucked in her breath. The letter L. She only knew one name from the history of Dragonis that started with the letter L.

  ‘Lucian,’ she whispered, and her feet started running again, desperate now to see the faces of the two companions.

  M and L, huh … I like it, said Mirth, clapping his friend on the back. You do real justice to this world, Lucian.

  Before Emma could call or scream either of their names, the city seemed to shrink underneath her feet. The towers were sucked down through the ground; the pipes and cogs flew up through the sky. She heard the street behind her crumbling as she ran. The sky was getting brighter and brighter.

  At the end of the street, Lucian vanished into the blurred shape of a doorway, while Mirth lingered outside. He lifted his head, as though he had heard something, and looked over his shoulder.

  Before falling through the collapsing stone road, a set of green eyes met Emma’s gaze.

  And then everything turned white.

  ~ Chapter Fourteen ~

  Dragons and Marauders

  When Emma had first heard of Mirth the Dragon Slayer, she had not known who he was or even where to begin searching for answers, but as soon as she awoke, the puzzle pieces starting fitting together in her mind. Those green eyes of his reminded her of the Wheeler brothers, and something she had stupidly forgotten about their history came flooding back to her memory.