Dragon Fire

by Lisa McMann

  “Oh no!” Sky lamented. “Frieda’s been here. I was suspicious when I saw all the people on the lawn with swords—that seemed like a lot. It looks like Frieda has taken them all.” She wrinkled her nose, consternated. “Any other ideas?”

  “Backstage!” Fifer said. “I know where there’s one.” She took off down the sloping aisle, her steps echoing in the empty space, and leaped up the stairs two at a time and onto the stage. There she fumbled with the heavy velvet curtains, looking for the center opening. Once through, she began feeling her way in the darkness. When she hit the solid wall of the prop room exterior, she slid her hand sideways to locate the doorframe, then fumbled for the doorknob. Finding it, she swung open the door and flipped on the light to make the path easier for Sky to navigate.

  Fifer saw something move out of the corner of her eye. “Aah!” she cried.

  A man with a peg leg and a ship captain’s hat blinked back at her. He drew his sword. “Arrr,” he growled. “Move away!”

  “Captain Ahab—I’m Fifer Stowe!” Fifer exclaimed, eyeing his sword and raising her hand, ready to throw a component at him if necessary. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Sky’s footsteps approached, and a moment later she reached Fifer. “Oh!” she said when she saw the statue’s weapon raised, but then she relaxed. “Hello, sir. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  “Yaaar,” said Captain Ahab. “Where is she?”

  Fifer frowned. “You mean Frieda Stubbs?”

  “I mean the whale! Where’s that beautiful blue whale?”

  “Not this again,” Sky muttered. “Hey, Captain, Spike Furious is far away at sea doing good deeds, but she most certainly sends her love. And… could I please borrow your sword for a while?”

  “Please,” Fifer added earnestly. “It’s very important. We’re trying to save Artimé.”

  “From pirates?”

  “No,” said Fifer, faltering. “From… ourselves. Or so it seems.”

  The old captain statue snarled obstinately, then seemed to soften. After a moment he lowered the sword, then stumped over to Sky and handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” said Sky earnestly. “We’ll bring it back.”

  “And we’ll tell Spike you asked about her,” said Fifer. Sky and Fifer filed out, with Fifer switching off the light and closing the prop room door before the captain could growl at them again.

  “Where is Spike, anyway?” asked Sky as they carefully retraced their steps in the dark.

  “Lhasa told me that Spike spotted Issie’s baby in our world again. So she and Talon and Issie have gone searching for her. If they can’t find her in our sea, they’re going to try the volcano network.” She frowned and reached for the opening in the curtain. “It would be nice to have Talon’s help right now, but I guess I can’t blame them for going after Isobel since she’s been lost for seven hundred years.”

  “Brave to go into the volcanos,” murmured Sky. “Can you picture Spike Furious being spit out of a volcano and doing a big belly flop in a different world?”

  “I just hope all the volcanos are in water,” said Fifer, “or she’ll be in trouble.” As they went through the curtain opening, the painting of the giant set of doors on the back wall, which was mostly just for decoration, pushed out slightly and became a three-dimensional, usable door. That meant that someone had just put up Ms. Octavia’s magical 3-D drawing to allow one of the large statues access to the theater. Three-D doors were very difficult to produce, but they were crucial for statues like Simber and Florence, who couldn’t fit inside the tube.

  Fifer and Sky squinted from the overhead spotlight’s glare and watched to see who was using it. The door opened and Simber appeared.

  “I’ll be back shorrrtly,” the stone cheetah said over his shoulder as he entered.

  “Search everywhere!” called Frieda Stubbs from the other side, but Fifer couldn’t see her. She and Sky scrambled back behind the curtain in case the new head mage was following Simber inside.

  Simber growled low, annoyed, and kept coming. The 3-D door swung shut behind him, and he lumbered down the aisle. “Anybody in herrre?” He sampled the air. “If so, you might not want to tell me.” He stopped and sniffed again. “Fiferrr? Is that you?”

  Fifer and Sky emerged from behind the curtain and went down the stage steps.

  Simber spotted them and started toward them. “What arrre you doing in herrre? You’rrre in dangerrr!”

  “Hi, Simber,” said Fifer, moving swiftly up the aisle with Sky coming behind her. “What’s going on here? Everything is in an uproar! Sky and I returned from Warbler and saw the fighting on the lawn. And we heard Frieda saying some pretty horrible lies. We snuck inside to get Sky a sword—”

  “Stop,” the big cat muttered. “Don’t tell me anything morrre.”

  Fifer reached the winged-cheetah statue and pulled short of giving him a hug. “What? Why?”

  “Because I worrrk forrr Frrrieda now! You know this.”

  “But, Simber, I—” She let out an exasperated breath. “That doesn’t affect our friendship, does it? What are you saying? Did she order you to, like, attack us or something?”

  “Fiferrr,” said Simber. His eyes darted uneasily around the shadows of the auditorium. “You need to get out of herrre. You’rrre not safe. Find Aarrron and tell him to leave too. Go to the Island of Shipwrrrecks. You too, Sky—all of you. Life herrre has changed in an instant. And I fearrr it’s neverrr going to be the same again.”

  Fifer stared, horrified and mystified by Simber’s words and struck by the heavyheartedness in his voice. “But—”

  Just then a scraping sound came from the back wall. A moment later the huge double doors flattened and returned to being a painting. The three of them stared. “What just happened?” asked Sky. “Did Frieda take the drawing down?”

  Simber let out an angry roar, then charged toward the painting. He stopped short of slamming into the wall and shouted, “Put that drrrawing back up! Frrrieda! The doorrr!”

  But it was to no avail—whoever had taken it down wasn’t actually on the other side of the wall. They were somewhere in the physical mansion, far away. Simber let out another roar, which shook the seats and made the stage curtain tremble. “Come back herrre!” he shouted.

  “What’s happening?” Fifer whispered to Sky.

  “I don’t know,” said Sky, “but I think someone accidentally locked Simber in here.”

  “We’ll get help,” Fifer said to Simber. “Just sit tight. We’ll find the 3-D drawing and put it back up while you… do whatever it is you are supposed to be doing in here.”

  Simber let out another angry, bloodcurdling roar.

  Fifer covered her ears. “It’s going to be fine!”

  “No it isn’t!” shouted Simber. “You don’t underrrstand. She’s done this on purrrpose.” He began pacing behind the back row of seats. “Just… go. Get out of herrre.”

  “She— On purpose?” said Fifer. “I’m sorry, Simber—what?”

  Simber turned as his angry expression morphed into one of defeat. “I’m surrre of it. Frrrieda locked me in herrre so I wouldn’t join Aarrron’s side—yourrr side. She trrricked me. Earrrlierrr I admitted to herrr that I would have a difficult time harrrming any of the people on Aarrron’s team. So she sent me herrre to see if anyone was hiding. It was a trrrap, don’t you see? And now I’m stuck, unable to do anything. My head mage doesn’t trrrust me.”

  “Oh, Simber,” said Sky. “I mean, does that really matter? She’s your head mage, but she’s horrible. Why do you care that she doesn’t trust you?”

  “I’m so… conflicted,” Simber moaned. “I was crrreated to serrrve the head mage… but… she’s…” The statue growled angrily again, then said, “This is Aarrron’s fault for handing herrr the rrrobe.” He broke into a gallop along the wall in frustration, even though he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. Finally he skidded to a stop and sank to the floor, giving up. “Please listen to me. Get out of herrre now
beforrre she finds you.”

  “But what about you?” asked Fifer, distressed.

  “I’ll be fine,” said Simber. He stared at the floor for a long moment. “Just… stay safe and tell Florrrence I’m sorrry.” He sniffed, then looked up. “And if you surrrvive, don’t forrrget me in herrre when this is all overrr.”

  A Siege

  Shaken, Fifer and Sky left Simber in the theater and returned to the mansion via the tube. Hearing a crowd in the vast entryway, they crept over to the bottom of the staircase, keeping their faces hidden behind the large baluster that still stood, although precariously, and peered around it. Then they heard a familiar, unpleasant voice—Frieda Stubbs was gearing up to speak to her people, most of whom were gathered in the large open space. Fifer and Sky looked through the spindles and listened. They could see the 3-D door drawing rolled up at her feet.

  “Greetings, my good people,” Frieda began. “As you are all becoming aware, the remaining Stowes are a menace to our island. I’ve been aware of this for years, because I knew their mysterious mother better than anyone.” She narrowed her eyes. “Nadia Stowe was not the quiet, demur Necessary she appeared to be. She was a pirate who snuck into our world. Her children, except for Alex, are worse than she ever was. I tolerated them through all of Aaron’s disastrous choices, through Fifer and Thisbe’s uncontrollable and dangerous dark magic. I trusted Alex to rein them in, and he did his best. Unfortunately, the girls stirred up a bee’s nest far bigger than anyone ever imagined in the land of the dragons. And when Alex died, killed by the evil Revinir, this situation escalated. Now the three remaining siblings have brought danger to Artimé—more danger than this island has ever seen.”

  The group was utterly silent, taking in this revelation.

  Frieda continued. “Against Alex’s wishes, the twin girls engaged with the Revinir, ruler of the land of the dragons. They set off a chain of events that will eventually destroy Artimé. And Quill. And our entire world.”

  Several people scoffed. Surely she was exaggerating.

  Frieda’s most ardent supporters shushed the doubters, and the head mage went on. “Hear me out,” she said, sounding deceptively rational for once. “Thisbe and Fifer awakened a beast. This Revinir isn’t the woman Alex sent packing back when she was Queen Eagala—not anymore. Now she has transformed into a dragon-monster. She’s got all of the other dragons from far and wide under her command, even our own dragons, which is also the Stowes’ fault—they’ve left us with no allies who can fight this army. Plus, the Revinir is furious at Thisbe and Fifer.”

  Fifer frowned from behind the bannister. Well, she’s angry at Thisbe, anyway, she thought, but that was a minor inaccuracy compared to all of the other exaggerations and lies Frieda was telling. But that wasn’t even the point! The issue wasn’t that the Revinir was angry at them. It was that she wanted to abduct and control Thisbe. The dragon-woman didn’t seem to care about Fifer at all. But Frieda was making things up to convince her supporters that Fifer was dangerous to have around too. Fifer didn’t like it. She wrinkled her nose and pushed up on her tiptoes to try to see better.

  Sky pulled her back down and gave her a warning look.

  “As you know, the Revinir was on her way here. I scared her away once. But with Fifer and Aaron skulking around, you can bet she’ll return with her fleet of bloodthirsty dragons.” She paused briefly to let the words sink in, then asked, “Do you know what we have to do to make sure that doesn’t happen?” She looked sidelong at a man named Garrit who often accompanied her, as if to give him a cue to speak up.

  “Get rid of the Stowes!” cried Garrit, pumping his fist in the air. “Sacrifice them to save our world!”

  Frieda’s other crewmembers repeated the cry.

  The rest of the people stared at Frieda and her staunchest supporters with drawn faces and open mouths. Some of them nodded fearfully. “We don’t want that Revinir beast to come back,” said someone from the crowd. “Dragons?” said another. “We can’t fight dragons!”

  “If the Revinir comes back, why can’t we just throw Fifer and Aaron at her?” asked one of the skeptical ones.

  “We don’t want that monster anywhere near our land!” said another. “Do you really trust a dragon-monster to take just those two? What if she’s not satisfied with that? I’m not willing to chance it. Let’s do away with the Stowes now, before it’s too late!”

  Fifer sucked in a breath. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Some of the people calling to do away with her were acquaintances she’d been friendly with all her life—or at least that’s how Fifer had seen their interactions. Maybe they’d always been scared of her magic.

  “Fifer and Aaron have too many friends here who will protect them,” Frieda went on. “Which makes them our enemies too, right?”

  Garrit frowned and elbowed Frieda, like she wasn’t supposed to go that far, but Frieda ignored him.

  Not everybody in the crowd was buying this line of thinking, but an alarming number of people were. Fifer clutched her shirt placket and exchanged another glance with Sky. This was surreal and escalating quickly. Now the people weren’t just mad at the girls and Aaron, but Frieda had just lumped in all of their friends as enemies of Artimé too. It was so backward that Fifer could hardly believe this was happening.

  “What can we do?” asked someone whose face was etched with fear. “We have to stop the Revinir and the dragons from killing us all!”

  “We have to fight anyone who opposes our plan to remove Aaron, Fifer, and Thisbe,” said another firmly. “This is no joking matter. These are our lives we’re talking about.”

  “And if we remove them, their friends will fight us,” said another.

  “No doubt,” said Frieda Stubbs, jumping on that theme. “We must fight first if we’re going to save our people.”

  “This means war,” said Garrit. The way he said it made chills go down Fifer’s spine. “For the good of Artimé.”

  “For the good of Artimé!” echoed several others.

  Frieda wore a strange smile as she addressed the crowd of dissenters once more. “I think we should clear every single one of the traitors out of this place and take control of the mansion as you suggest: for the good and safety of Artimé. Don’t let any of our opposition in through these doors to stock up on food, water, and especially components! If they resist or try to force their way in, sideline them. And if you see any of the Stowes, bring them to me so I can take care of them myself.”

  Frieda smirked, as if imagining that scenario, then continued. “Now, everyone take your places guarding the doors and windows. My personal search team will comb the mansion to scare up anyone who might be hiding. Be ready for attacks from both directions—inside and out. The Revinir could show up at any moment!”

  The people scattered, some near panic as they searched the skies through the window for the ominous dragon-monster woman none of them had actually ever seen before.

  Fifer gripped the stair spindles and sank lower, keeping her eye on the people in the crowd. There were still some who cringed or shifted uncomfortably at Frieda’s harsh language, as if they felt some sense of appall at fighting against their fellow Artiméans or even kicking them out of the mansion. Some of them took the threat of war seriously, having fought before. And none of them had ever been through a civil war before. Fighting neighbor against neighbor, Unwanted against Unwanted? The thought was horrific. It went against everything Artimé stood for. It defied all the principles that Mr. Today had employed when building it. Added to that, the very people Frieda wanted them to fight against had been the same ones who’d saved Artimé time and time again.

  But nobody spoke up, so Frieda’s words stood without opposition. And slowly those words found a comfortable spot inside the minds of the listeners and seemed a little bit more normal than they’d seemed a moment before.

  Not to Fifer and Sky, though. Sky turned and whispered to Fifer, “It’s a reverse siege. They want to keep us locked out of t
he mansion instead of barricading us inside.” Begrudgingly she added, “It’s actually a really clever plan—for them. I hope Florence and the others saw this coming and gathered as many components as they could.” She glanced over her shoulder, measuring their options as to the best escape route. “We have to get you out of here before somebody follows through on that reckless threat and hands you over to Frieda. Simber was right to be so concerned. I can hardly believe I’m saying this, but I have no doubt that woman will harm you, Fifer, if she gets a chance. Don’t take her words lightly.”

  Fifer’s heart raced. “But if we leave, Frieda wins—she’s driving us out. We don’t want to make that mistake again! This is our world! Our home! And what about Simber? The 3-D door is right there at Frieda’s feet! We can get him out. We need him!”

  “Fifer, no! She just gave the dissenters permission to attack us, and some of them are in such a frenzy that they might not hesitate to use lethal spells. If Frieda or some crazy follower of hers kills you, she wins too… and I lose. Again. You and I alone are not strong enough to defeat them. Let’s be smart. Come on. Follow me.” Sky grabbed Fifer’s hand, and the two, staying low, slipped through the dining room and to one of the windows that had been shattered in a skirmish. Fifer froze the guard standing there with his back to them. Then the two jumped through to the lawn. They got up and ran for the fountain, beyond which they could see Lani and Samheed standing with Florence, having a heated conversation without being attacked. The spats and skirmishes around them had diminished significantly due to the meeting inside the mansion. Fifer and Sky soon reached them.

  “He’ll help us when he can,” Florence was saying passionately. “I believe that. I don’t care who the new head mage is now—Simber won’t turn his back on me. Or any of us. It doesn’t matter what he’s instilled with. Following a bad leader is not in his nature. It can’t be! Or I’ll take him out with my own bare hands!”