The Secret World of Dragons

by Sandra Harvey

  Matt nodded. ‘We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, I guess.’

  They left the dead tree behind, now with eight in their group instead of seven, and headed towards the gates of the Black Fortress. They were open at the moment, revealing a wide pathway that led up to the broad, black doors of the tower. The front garden of the fortress was as barren as the rest of the city, but every now and again they’d see a deep hole leading into the depths of the earth. The walk across the grounds took forever – or so it seemed to Emma – and she was not surprised when a group of riders emerged from behind the tall doors of the fortress. They had long cloaks on over their black riding suits and wore dark masks on their faces. At each of their sides was a long sword.

  ‘Elite riders,’ hissed Matt, his voice filling with panic. ‘Everyone hide!’

  He moved towards one of the gaps in the ground and the others followed him. Emma thought he was crazy at first, to jump down into the bottomless hole, but she noticed that there were ledges below with ladders extending both up and down. Emma was never very fond of heights, and even on a dragon’s back she felt a little uneasy. But when she reached the edge of the deep ravine, her foot slipped on a loose rock and she dropped down over the side, vanishing just in time, as the elite riders were now on the move across the tower grounds.

  The darkness below filled her eyes as she fell, giving her a new reason to panic. There was no ground directly below her, only the seemingly bottomless abyss. Emma shut her eyes, terror taking over. She was going to die. If she died, if she fell to the end, the Sapphire Stone would be lost forever. The dragons would die; the world would die; and her father … she would never see him again …

  Sharp claws dug through her jacket and into her shoulders. Emma yelped in pain and looked up to see Mystic, his wings spread wide and flapping madly as he tried to pull her up. Emma bit her lip and tried to ignore the throbbing pain where his claws held her fast. When they reached the top of the ledge, Simon and Matt helped Mystic by hauling Emma up to solid land. She sat between the two brothers and wrapped both hands around her shoulders, trying hard not to cry from the horrible aching. Mystic collapsed in front of her, his wings slowly receding into his back – the skin consuming the two thin membranes – while he lay there panting. The flight had worn down his energy.

  ‘M-Mystic?’ stammered Emma, her lower lip trembling. She was barely aware of Matt examining her left shoulder. ‘Are you … are you all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ he grunted, struggling to his feet. He gave her a pained look. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No,’ she lied, and then winced.

  ‘Sorry,’ murmured Matt, and then cleared his throat. ‘You’re bleeding, but it isn’t too bad. It should just sting for a while, I’d say, and then you’ll be ok.’

  Mystic sighed and stumbled over to the very back of the wide ledge, muttering under his breath the whole way. Emma watched him go, ignoring the pain in her shoulders for just a moment. It seemed like every time she ended up in trouble, Mystic had saved her life. Whether it was to protect her or the stone, she had yet to decide upon.

  The ledge they were on cut underground the further in they walked, so that the earth above now served as a roof. It was darker inside the little cavern, but Emma could tell that many tunnels led off into multiple directions. Sand pulled out his lighter and lit a fire out of a few dead sticks, but it did not last very long and coldness came soon after. Given that the temperature had dropped, Mystic declared that night had fallen over Vashgal. The darkness grew thicker shortly afterwards, and soon came the rain. Emma was expecting the weather to be stormy – the skies had looked so horrible back near the forest. With the storm came thunder and lightning, along with the horrid cries of the drayskuls lurking nearby.

  Emma slept at the farthest corner of the cave and Mystic lay beside her, his eyes open and alert. The cat was not the only one awake. Early during the night, she saw Sand get up and wander out onto the lip of the ledge and extend his hands to the sky, soaking up the rain as it fell. Sleep took her after that, and she never woke until hours later. Mystic had finally fallen into slumber, twitching his ears every now and again when he heard a sound.

  Emma sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was still tired, but the sun was coming up, and she would not be able to sleep after seeing it. So she stood up and walked out to the cliff’s edge, where Sand had stood hours before. She glanced over to where he was lying to see his clothes drenched with water.

  He must have taken that shower, she thought to herself, and could not help but smile.

  Out on the rim of the ledge, Emma sat down and let her feet dangle over the side. She could not believe that she had almost fallen over into the darkness below. If not for Mystic … she would have been dead. Yet Simon had his suspicions about the creature. How could that be, when Mystic had just saved her life? Twice he had rescued her from dying: once from the jaws of a drayskul and again from falling to her doom. He was the one who had sought her out, claiming that he needed her help to save Dragonis. He wanted to piece back together the Dragon’s Tear so the dragons would never die. How could he be plotting against them? It was impossible.

  ‘Simon’s getting to me,’ she joked out loud.

  ‘He’s getting to Flynn too.’

  Emma jumped and nearly slipped from the edge again. She steadied herself and glanced to her right to see Titus sitting not far from where she was, leaning up against an old, discarded cart. The steel wheels were so rusted that chucks had fallen off onto the ground, and the wood was rotted with holes.

  ‘Beautiful morning isn’t it?’ said the seer, looking out across the wide ravine. ‘It’s always nice after a storm.’

  ‘Can I ask you something, Titus?’ said Emma. He nodded in reply. ‘Down in the dungeons yesterday … Sand mentioned that Vanyir captured him because he thought Sand was a seer. I just wanted to know if …’

  ‘If Sheena was taken for that reason?’ finished Titus hollowly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Emma softly.

  Titus leaned his head back against the old cart. ‘Well, what can I say?’ he murmured. ‘I heard rumours that Vanyir was looking for a seer – a certain seer – and I also knew it was a matter of time before he found me. People from Gunclove kept disappearing – like Sand – and Flynn feared that the Dark Riders wanted to wipe us out one by one. His fear led to higher security within the village, but it wasn’t enough …’ Titus’s voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘That day … nearly a year ago … the day Flynn and Sheena rode out to Dwenin … they were followed by the drayskuls. They captured Sheena and left one rider to deal with Flynn, but the leader of the Dragon Marauders isn’t to be taken lightly.’

  ‘So that’s when Flynn defeated the drayskul, right?’ questioned Emma.

  ‘That’s right,’ replied Titus. ‘He killed them both – rider and beast. But by the time the battle was over, Sheena was long gone.’ The seer looked down at his hands. ‘I … I always blamed myself for the accident. They thought she was the seer. They truly believed it. Now I see that I am correct, and Sheena is locked away in that black tower. I never thought that Vanyir would keep her imprisoned in a common jailhouse. Wherever she is … it isn’t a dungeon. No, I suspect that Vanyir has given her a room. If I’m right, it’ll be ten times harder to find her.’

  Titus rose to his feet. ‘I want to save her because it was my fault that she was captured. If I didn’t exist, Sheena would still be in Gunclove and so would Flynn, Sand and his brother. His death was also my fault, you see.’

  ‘No, Titus,’ whispered Emma. ‘That isn’t –’

  ‘I am used to all this by now,’ he interrupted quickly. ‘To all the things that are my fault, I mean. To be born a seer is a horrible curse … and I wish to be rid of it soon, but not yet. I still have to amend my mistakes.’

  ‘But you haven’t made any!’ exclaimed Emma angrily. ‘You can’t help the way you were born!’

  Titus gave a grim smile. ‘Just as you couldn’t help falling into another’
s destiny,’ he said softly. He crouched down beside her for a moment. ‘Just remember, Emma … everyone isn’t always who they appear to be, and someday you’ll learn the truth of things. You won’t like the truth … but reality has its way of – let’s say – unravelling secrets older than time itself. When it comes to choosing between right and wrong and who to trust … just remember.’

  He stood up then, and started back towards the sleeping others, but Emma quickly asked, ‘Remember … what exactly?’

  Titus paused and looked over his shoulder. ‘Sometimes ... we forget who we are ... and who we are not,’ he vaguely answered, and then added, ‘You should really get back to sleep, you know. Matt won’t be up until another two hours.’

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ murmured Emma, but she stayed sitting where she was, pondering what Titus had said. He knew the answers to everything, but yet he had only given her a hint towards her future. That was the way of the seers – to only light the path ahead a little bit.

  But who am I? she thought. Emmaline Reeve … the daughter of Lucas Reeve, and the descendant of the chosen rider – the hero of Dragonis.

  She failed to see how any of that was important to her future. But maybe Titus was right. Maybe the secrets of this world would reveal themselves in time.

  ~ Chapter Twenty One ~

  The Mirror Room

  It was as Titus said. Matt awoke exactly two hours later, and Emma still sat out on the cliff’s ledge. She had watched the sun rise – or what she assumed to be the sun. The sky was still a faded grey, but the blackness seemed to slacken in the early morning. No birds sang in Vashgal. Emma only heard the clanging of metal against steel and the deafening sound of flying drayskuls as they swooped low overhead. The wind seemed louder in the ravine, too.

  A slow flow of water poured out over the side of the opening, and Emma climbed the ladder, hoping to see the cause as she peeked up at the Black Fortress’s grounds. The front yard of the tower was swamped, but the Dark Riders did not seem to mind as they stomped through the rainwater towards the heavy doors. Emma clambered back down and headed to the back of the cavern where Mystic sat, watching the water gush out over the edge and past his sight.

  ‘The tower grounds are completely flooded,’ she told the cat. ‘The rain was heavy last night.’

  ‘Yes,’ he murmured, ‘things are changing.’ He blinked and gazed up at her. ‘Emma … I hope you are ready. This is our last – and maybe final – stop. There is no turning back now, and I have to confess, I’m … I’m a little …’

  Mystic gave an irritated sigh. ‘I’m afraid for you, Emma,’ he finally said.

  ‘Afraid for me?’ questioned Emma. It felt odd to have a small cat worry over her safety, when he should be fretting about his own.

  ‘I - I have to protect you,’ he said quietly. ‘If you die …’ he closed his eyes and shook his head, ‘if you die, I’d have failed the one thing I swore to do: keep you safe. Yesterday –’

  ‘I didn’t thank you for that,’ cut in Emma hastily. ‘So … thank you. That’s twice you saved my life now.’

  ‘Keeping count, are you?’ murmured Mystic. ‘Three times if you include the Dark Riders at your house.’ He awkwardly cleared his throat. ‘Listen Emma … if something should happen to me … I mean … in the fortress …’

  ‘What are you saying?’ demanded Emma, now kneeling in front of the cat, almost eye level with him.

  Mystic took a deep, strenuous breath. ‘If I should … die –’ he said this word with much difficulty ‘– I want you – I need you – to carry out my plan without me.’

  ‘Y-your plan?’ Emma faltered on her own words.

  ‘Yes, my plan,’ repeated the cat. ‘I need you to acquire the Crimson Stone no matter what. To save Dragonis, you need to reform the Dragon’s Tear.’ He lowered his voice so only Emma could hear him. ‘Vanyir will try to take the Sapphire Stone, and why he wants it is beyond my knowledge. Only the children of G’zardac would know and sadly they have all vanished. Vanyir is very stubborn, and to piece the Dragon’s Tear back together for the sake of the dragons is something he would never do. Therefore there must be some other reason – some reason that would frighten him enough to search for the Sapphire Stone ever since it disappeared from his sight.’

  Emma gave Mystic a nervous look. ‘Do you think that, just maybe … Vanyir doesn’t really want the Sapphire Stone, but just the … the person who holds it? … I mean … the descendent of Lucian? Do you think that he … that he only wants revenge instead of –’

  ‘No,’ Mystic interjected. ‘Don’t keep your thoughts on that track. Vanyir cares little about Lucian’s descendents. He wants the stone, nothing else.’

  Emma bit her lip and stared – abstractedly – at the ground. ‘What about … Titus?’ she asked quietly, shooting him a quick glance. ‘Vanyir wants a seer too … and you! Sand said that Vanyir had put a price on your head.’

  ‘The seer part is obvious – Vanyir is worried about his future,’ said Mystic. ‘He wants complete control of how his life will play out. As to my part,’ murmured the cat, ‘well … I suppose an old, talking creature would spark any madman’s interest.’

  ‘Is that why you’re afraid?’ she whispered. ‘You think that Vanyir might take you prisoner or … or …’

  ‘Kill me?’ offered Mystic, amused. He looked away from her, somewhere off to the side. ‘Perhaps … perhaps not. My kind isn’t frightened of much, but we do fear some things.’

  ‘And what “things” would that be?’ asked Emma.

  Mystic was still for a while, quietly thinking upon the matter, but then gradually said, ‘I believe growing too close to someone is a risk. If ever that certain bond would be severed, it could be worse than death.’

  ‘Worse than death,’ breathed Emma. ‘But why? I mean ... to lose someone you love is very hard, but how can anything be worse than death?’

  ‘To my kind, death would be a sweet alternative,’ replied Mystic. ‘To live in agony is much worse. That is why my kind is so detached from the people of this world.’

  ‘Mystic …’ said Emma slowly, ‘are you trying to give me hints to figure out what you are?’

  Mystic chuckled in reply. ‘I already know what I am,’ he said. ‘A name is what I’m looking for. Nothing else really matters.’

  ‘I promise that I’ll find your name,’ said Emma earnestly. ‘It’s the least I can do for you. After all, you saved my life three times, and I hate it when I can’t return the favour.’

  ‘Some favours can’t be returned, Emma,’ said Mystic faintly.

  ‘This one will.’ Emma was determined, and what she said next took nearly all of her resolve to say. ‘I won’t go home until I help you.’

  Mystic gazed up at her with grey-violet eyes, his ears bent flat against his head.

  ‘I … I wish I were back in my old form,’ he scarcely whispered, ‘just to show you what I was really like.’

  What you’re really like?

  A swordstick clattered noisily beside Emma and she jumped, startled by the sound.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Simon briskly, picking the weapon up. ‘It slipped out of my hand.’ He sat down by the two and turned to Mystic. ‘So you know what the inside of the Black Fortress looks like, huh?’

  ‘Your point?’ said Mystic smoothly.

  ‘Nothing … I was just wondering how you knew.’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ snapped the cat. ‘You should be lucky that you even have a guide, Wheeler. If you were left alone, you’d probably die in that tower.’

  Simon grunted and pulled himself to his feet.

  ‘Whatever,’ he said. He looked to Emma. ‘We’re all ready now. Matt’s waiting on Mystic for the next move.’

  Mystic snorted and walked past Simon, who glared after the cat with deep dislike in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t get you two,’ said Emma, looking from one to the other. ‘What went wrong between you guys?’

  Simon shrugged. ‘All I know is
that he doesn’t trust me, and I don’t trust him.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ mumbled Emma. ‘What’s he ever done to you? And what have you done to him?’

  Again Simon shrugged, but he did not reply.

  The others were all ready to go by now and so they left the cavern behind. Matt surveyed the area up top before they climbed the ladder, and then each one scrambled up after him until they were all standing on the path to the Black Fortress. The water sunk through Emma’s sneakers as she followed Matt across the wet grounds. Mystic walked beside her, barely noticeable between all the legs of people. She hoped no one would see him. That would completely throw off their disguises.

  There were no guards near the tall, black doors of the tower, so the eight of them slipped inside unnoticed. They were in a large, rectangular room with a floor of cold marble, and from the entrance to the very end of the room laid a deep-red runner. In both back corners were stairways that led farther down into the mighty tower. Halfway across the room – on either side – were doors of grey steel, and an archway faced them at the end – straight across from the entrance doorway. A single light hung from the high ceiling.

  ‘Why aren’t there any guards here?’ whispered Emma.

  Matt gave a short laugh. ‘Vanyir doesn’t need guards here. He knows no one is stupid enough to sneak into this place.’

  ‘True enough,’ said Flynn, strolling to the front of the group, ‘but where are the dungeons?’

  Mystic snorted. ‘I doubt Vanyir’s going to keep a seer locked away in his dungeons.’

  Both Emma and Simon nodded. They had had their share of dungeon crawling, and they did not want to think about how much worse the prisons of the Black Fortress could be compared to the one in Vashgal.

  ‘She isn’t a se –’

  ‘But Vanyir thinks she is.’ Mystic hurried down across the runner towards the archway. ‘The centre of the Black Fortress is a room with a swirling stairway that leads right up to the top floor. Our work will be cut out for us if we take that path. It’s just through this archway and down a long hallway.’