by Wesley King
Dree and Marcus also met Eria Halton, another surviving Rider, who was even older than Dree’s father. Eria had been famous in her day, riding on a temperamental Outlier called Norax. Now she was graying and wrinkled, her shoulders bent, but her dark eyes were big and intelligent and lively. Norax had been slaughtered by dragon hunters after Francis’s revolution a decade earlier, and Eria was still thirsty for revenge. She shook Dree’s hand, smiling. Eria had an iron grip.
“I have heard a lot about Abelard’s daughter,” she said, eyeing Dree’s hands, as if looking for something there.
Dree wondered how much Eria knew about her . . . abilities, and if she was the one Abelard had been speaking to about Furies all those years ago. She did the same thing to Marcus, looking at his hands and into his eyes, and Marcus seemed uncomfortable under her intense gaze.
When they had met everyone, Dree and Marcus stepped aside with Abelard.
“Impressive,” Marcus said. “This all started in the last week?”
Abelard nodded. “More or less. There was a Resistance movement all along in the city—underground, of course, mostly led by Eria, Ciaran, and Nathaniel here. But when the attacks continued on the city and no real progress was being made, they came to me to ask me to resume my leadership of the Resistance. I turned them down before, but even I couldn’t just ignore the devastation any longer. I . . . reluctantly agreed.”
“Reluctantly?” Dree asked.
“I was not sure I was the man for the job,” he said. “I’m still not. But we will find out.”
Dree smiled. “I think you’re the perfect man for the job.”
Nathaniel stepped up beside Abelard, forcing a smile. “I think we should get back to the planning,” he said, annoyance tinging his voice. “We need to wipe out that drone factory as soon as possible.” He eyed Dree. “Perhaps we can continue the reunion later.”
“Yes,” Abelard said, “you’re right. Let’s—”
He was cut off by the flapping of wings, and they turned to see two dragons settle to the ground beside them—one as golden as the morning sun, and the other a fiery, pinkish red, like the light of dusk.
Dree broke into a grin and rushed forward to give the golden dragon a hug. “Nolong!”
He knelt down and nuzzled her, looking pleased. Marcus turned to Vero, the red dragon.
“You’ve joined the Resistance?” he asked, surprised. “We were worried about you.”
Vero inclined her head. “Rightly so. Helvath was not pleased that I assisted you in finding the Egg. He spared me death, but he exiled me from the Teeth. I admit, I did not really argue. It gave me a chance to find Nolong.” She turned and looked at the golden dragon, her dark eyes flashing with adoration. “It had been too long.”
Nolong met her eyes. “Yes. But of course there is no peace of mind yet. The drones have become more active than ever—many of my kind have been killed. We need to turn the tide of this war . . . and soon.”
“We can help with that,” Dree said, finally slipping off her pack. She opened it and pulled out the Egg. Its red and orange flames rippled down the smooth ebony surface and over her entire arm.
“The Egg,” Vero whispered. “You found it.”
“Yeah,” Dree said. “And we need to figure out how to use it to—”
She stopped as an explosion suddenly roared through the air, shaking the entire cavern and nearly causing her to drop the Egg. A second explosion echoed through the caves, and shattered rock started to rain down from the ceiling, causing the group to scramble and cover their heads for protection.
“What is that?” Dree asked.
Abelard looked toward the cave entrance.
“We’re under attack.”
Chapter
10
Flaking rock and stalactites continued to rain down from the ceiling as everyone scrambled toward the main cavern.
“Get into the tunnels!” Abelard shouted. “Get everyone down there now!”
Dree and Marcus stuck close together, sheltering their heads from the falling debris. A huge boulder nearly twice his size crashed into the ground beside Marcus, and he quickly jumped out of the way as it shattered and sent shards of rock flying in all directions.
They heard an agonizing roar as a rock landed on Vero’s back, leaving a large wound as it bounced off, and she gnashed her teeth and prepared to launch herself toward the main cavern entrance, where a line of grim Nightwings were standing guard.
Nolong stepped in front of her. “No,” he said firmly. “They are waiting for us to attack. They will gun you down swiftly.” He turned and looked at Marcus. “Get everyone deeper into the tunnels. Hurry!”
Many of the humans and dragons were already headed deeper into the cavern, but Dree turned to help corral Abi and the boys, while Marcus looked around to see if there were any other stragglers. Another explosion rocked the cave, causing him to stumble to the ground.
Marcus noticed a mother struggling with her two young children. He jumped to his feet to scoop up one of the little boys. He turned to the mother, saying, “Let’s go.”
She grabbed the girl and they hurried across the cavern, almost falling several times under the barrage. A stalactite slammed into the ground ahead of them, splintering with an earsplitting crack.
Marcus looked around and saw dragons and humans being hit by the falling rock. One dragon was pinned in the corner, while an older man was lying on the ground nearby, unconscious or worse. Everyone was screaming and running.
They reached the back tunnels, where Erdath ushered everyone deeper into the mountain. The caverns and tunnels ran many miles beneath the surface, and it would be far safer there. It would probably have been safer to stay down there all the time, but it was cool and dark in the depths, and most of the humans preferred to be near the fresh air. He suspected that wasn’t an option anymore.
Marcus put down the young boy. “Run with your mother now,” he said.
“Thank you,” the mother replied, and they hurried down the tunnel.
“Where are you going?” Erdath called as Marcus took off into the main cavern again.
“To help!” Marcus shouted back, rushing toward the unconscious man.
Lourdvang, Dree, and Abelard were also in the main cavern, dodging the falling rocks as they tried to get the scattered humans and dragons to safety. Lourdvang grabbed the boulder pinning one dragon by his tail and threw it off, allowing the frail elder Nightwing to head for the tunnels. Marcus knelt next to the unconscious man, grimacing at the caked blood on his white hair where a falling rock had hit him. As Marcus struggled to get under the man’s arm and pick him up, Dree appeared beside him, taking the other arm.
“Hurry,” she said tensely.
They half walked, half dragged the man across the cavern as the whole mountain continued shaking under the constant barrage. Marcus glanced back at the opening, where at least twenty dragons were now lined up shoulder to shoulder, defending the entrance against any incursion. But the drones clearly weren’t entering the cavern yet. Nolong was right—they were trying to draw the dragons out into open air.
They made it to the back tunnel, and Nathaniel and another Resistance fighter rushed forward to take the man who Dree and Marcus were helping. Nathaniel looked at Dree and Marcus.
“You should get below,” he ordered. “It’s too dangerous up here for kids.”
“We’re fine,” Dree snapped, glaring back at him as they rushed back into the main cavern.
“What is he . . . like fourteen?” Marcus asked.
“I know,” Dree said. She saw Abelard helping another fallen woman and ran to help.
Marcus paused, eyeing the open entrance. He knew that if the drones decided to enter the cavern and breached the line of defending dragons, they could seal off all the tunnels and destroy the Resistance’s supplies. Food, water, and heaps of
armor and weaponry were all stashed in the main cavern here. If that was destroyed, the Resistance would be helpless—even if they managed to escape the destroyed tunnels. He looked around the chamber at the piles of fallen stone.
“Lourdvang,” he shouted. “Help me!”
Marcus grabbed some of the fallen rock and ran toward the entrance, trying to show Lourdvang what he wanted to do. The huge Nightwing understood immediately. He began grabbing the fallen boulders and stalactites and piling them by the entrance to create a barricade. The dragon guards quickly caught on, and soon all of the fallen stone was being used to block the entrance. When they ran short of the existing rubble, the Nightwings ripped stone from the cracking walls themselves, caving in the entrance with their incredible strength. A massive defensive wall began to form, blocking most of the opening from attack. There was still a gap, but at least it would give them something to hide behind.
They were just in time.
Baby Hybrid dropped into view outside, flanked by two Trackers. Marcus felt his heart sink at the sight of her. He remembered lovingly creating the hybrid with Dree, and their pride when it had flown out of this very mountain. And he remembered the feeling of watching it crash into the palace, left in the hands of Francis. A part of him had hoped that she would be too damaged to be used again, but he had known better. They had built her too well. She still looked the same—fiery red eyes glowing in her expertly welded head, machine guns and missiles sitting below her two great metal wings. He almost wanted to run out and try to take her back.
And then Baby Hybrid opened fire with her machine guns, sending a deadly flurry of bullets into the cavern. Marcus dove behind the wall of stone and saw Dree and Abelard slam into the ground behind him.
One of the Nightwings wasn’t so lucky. The bullets chewed into his wings and riddled his chest, and the beautiful black dragon hit the ground, the life leaving his eyes. Lourdvang ducked down beside Marcus and let out a terrible roar, enraged at the death of a fellow Nightwing. The rest of the dragons followed suit, creating a horrendous din in the cavern. Several burst around the partially finished barricade, unleashing a wave of fire, but they too were gunned down by Baby Hybrid and the drones. One at least made it far enough to spew fire onto the three drones, and they quickly scattered out of the way.
Erdath rushed forward, blowing a massive smoke screen over the opening, obscuring the sky.
“Gather the dead!” he shouted. “Finish the barricade!”
The dragons quickly pulled back the bodies, while others collapsed the ceiling. Marcus and the other humans pulled back, until a massive pile of stone blocked almost the whole opening, letting just a few streams of light in through the top. The smoke began to clear, revealing the dead dragons—five of them, their lifeless bodies lying in the dust and haze. It looked like a half-formed nightmare—too foggy to make out at any real details.
“It’s the fourth attack this week,” Abelard said. “Though they haven’t tried to take the entrance yet. They’ve just been pulverizing the mountain. I fear next time they will come for the kill.”
He turned to Marcus and Dree.
“The plan isn’t completely ready yet, but we can’t waste any more time. We attack the factory tonight.”
Abelard and Erdath stood in front of a large group of humans and dragons, deep in Forost in a lower cavern they called the war room. Many of the humans wore black, fire-resistant armor and bore spears and swords, while the massive dragons stood grimly behind them. Marcus and Dree stayed toward the back with Jack and the rest of Dree’s family. Jack had a gash on his head following the attack, but otherwise he was unhurt. He had been quizzing Marcus and Dree furiously on their creation of Baby Hybrid and its capabilities. Jack was looking for any way to help, and he wanted to take the lead in building a second version. Marcus knew the guilt was weighing very heavily on him.
“We lost five more of our kin today,” Erdath said gravely, smoke billowing from his nostrils. “They died defending Forost and the Resistance from our enemies. Koro, Levithan, Devat, Mara, and Jerwyn—may they fly forever in the light of the sun. Let us remember them.”
The dragons inclined their heads, growling low in their throats. The humans followed suit.
“The time has come to strike back,” Abelard broke in, stepping beside Erdath and looking out at the gathered warriors. “The drones continue to pour forth from the factory in ever greater numbers. We cannot fight an enemy who has infinite reinforcements. And so tonight we attack the factory, and we destroy it. At least then we’ll know exactly how many drones we have to defeat.”
There was a murmur of agreement around the room. Abelard turned to a drawing propped up on a wooden stand beside him. They were schematics of the factory—Dree’s mother had once worked inside.
“It will be dangerous,” Abelard continued. “We will first attack with a stealth force of human fighters to help neutralize the human guards and air defenses. There will be many people working in the factory, so we must make sure to evacuate. And if we don’t take out the air defenses, the skies will be too dangerous for dragons. Once the factory is cleared, we will send up the red flare. Only then will the dragons swoop in to burn the factory to the ground.”
“We should just leave the people in there,” Nathaniel snarled from the front.
“We are not murderers,” Erdath countered solemnly. “We are better than our enemies.”
Abelard nodded. “We need volunteers to stay here and work on building more of the fire-resistant armor. As you know, none of us can ride the dragons without it. We’ll need as many suits as possible for our next battle with the drones. Every Rider will need a suit, and right now we only have a handful.”
“Marcus and Dree can ride without the armor,” Lourdvang said.
The entire group of Resistance fighters turned to them, and Marcus shifted uncomfortably.
“You can touch the dragons?” Ciaran asked, looking at them in amazement. “Both of you?”
Dree hesitated, and then laid her bare hand on Lourdvang’s leg. Marcus did the same.
“Furies,” Eria said loudly. “I knew it. The first in two generations.”
There was a lot of muttering and incredulous looks in the chamber, and Marcus could see Nathaniel staring at them, looking even less friendly than before. Dree’s mother was staring with equal surprise, while Rochin and Abi were both wide-eyed. Rochin even took a little step back, as if afraid of his little sister.
“Why does Nathaniel look like he wants to punch us?” Marcus whispered.
Dree shook her head. “I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t think Furies are very common.”
“Have there ever been two at once?” Ciaran asked, looking to Eria.
Eria stepped forward, eyeing Marcus and Dree. “No. Not that I know of.”
“What does it . . . mean to be a Fury?” Dree’s mother asked. “Is she . . . is she going to be like the last one . . . ?”
Dree looked at her mom, frowning. “What last one?”
Eria turned to Dree. “Not all know the tale . . . we did much to hide it. Marcus, you should perhaps know a bit more about what you are. A Fury is the rarest of Dragon Riders. A Dragon Rider is such because they have descended from the ancient order and share a natural bond with a certain dragon. They are proficient at riding and weaponry, and they are supposed to maintain the highest level of honor. A Fury is the same—but they are also fire incarnate. Dragon fire moves in their body, and they have an unusual ability to wield it, and to be impervious to it as an attack. Even the fire of Helvath would pass them over without harm. Weaponry and illness can still kill them, but never fire. Furies are the greatest Riders . . . and the most dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Marcus asked.
Eria nodded. “The last Fury was a man named Dareon. He almost destroyed the Riders, and killed many of our grandparents. They finally exiled him from Dracone,
at great cost to the Riders and Dracone.”
Marcus and Dree exchanged a concerned look.
“But we each forge our own paths,” Eria said. “And you two must find your own.”
Lourdvang cut in. “For now those two can just scout the factory and stay back from the battle.”
“We’re going in on the ground,” Dree said sharply, turning to him and narrowing her eyes.
Lourdvang scowled and blew out a puff of smoke.
“I’ll stay and work on the armor,” Rochin said loudly, raising his hand
Dree snorted. “You just want to avoid the front lines, big brother.”
“Dree,” Marcus said. “Give him a break. Your father asked for volunteers.”
She crossed her arms and turned back to the front, scowling.
“Good,” Abelard said, nodding at his son. “I will assign a few more to help you, Rochin. It is indeed an important responsibility. Nathaniel, get your team together. Dree and Marcus, you’re with me.”
Erdath nodded. “I will lead the dragon attack from the air. We will be waiting for the signal.”
The room suddenly broke into a hundred conversations, and Marcus turned to Dree.
“That was . . . different,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me about Dareon?”
“I didn’t know about him either. I guess my dad wanted to keep that part from me.”
Marcus fidgeted. “Do you think that’s like a . . . Fury thing to do? Turn evil?”
“I’m sure it was just him. I don’t know. I’ll talk to my dad.”
Suddenly, Abi stepped in and interrupted their conversation. “Can I go on the mission with you guys?” she asked, her voice small but eager.