by Wesley King
“Do you think we’ll finish the hybrid in time?” Marcus asked.
“We have to.”
“You know it’s not going to be as strong as last time,” Marcus said.
“We have the Egg. It’ll have to be enough.”
“Yeah . . . it cost us enough to get it,” Marcus said quietly.
Dree rolled over and looked at Marcus. His chestnut hair was standing on end as usual, and his glasses were fogged over with perspiration.
“You’re not responsible for what happened to your dad, you know.”
Marcus was quiet for a moment. “I could have gone back for him.”
“No,” she said. “You couldn’t have. They would have captured you too, and then your father’s sacrifice would have been for nothing. You did what you had to do. You’re here, you’re fighting.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“It will,” Dree said sadly. “We’re just in a holding pattern now, but the battle is coming.”
Marcus nodded and then glanced at her. “Yeah. But there’s been something else on my mind too.”
“What’s that?”
He turned back toward the ceiling. “My father invented and built these drones for a reason: to kill the dragons. He wanted vengeance on Helvath, but the red dragons weren’t his only target. And maybe he was blinded by rage, and maybe he regrets what he did, but does it really matter? Isn’t he just as bad as Francis? Francis is our enemy, but maybe George is actually the villain in all of this.”
Dree looked at him for a moment. “I admit . . . I’ve thought that about him before. I thought about it the day we rescued him, and many times after that. I . . . I couldn’t like him.”
Marcus nodded, even though the revelation stung.
“Your father destroyed the Dragon Riders,” Dree said. “Whether it was his intention or not, he did it. And nothing is going to change that fact. But you didn’t create these problems. It’s not your fault.”
“He’s still my father, Dree. We share the same blood. I can’t just quit on him.”
“No, of course not. And maybe he was the villain before, but he’s not anymore. He’s trying to set it right. He got us the Egg and even sacrificed himself in the process. And I believe in redemption, Marcus. It doesn’t change the past, but maybe it can change us. Do you really believe that we can’t erase our past sins?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some sins are too big to erase.”
Dree smiled and then rolled away again, facing Teen Hybrid.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, thinking of a fire and a boy with yellow hair. “But I don’t think so. We can dwell on the past, Marcus, but I don’t think we should. Someone once told me that you have to let go. That means we keep moving . . . and we try to forgive. I haven’t mastered that yet, but the time will come when I can forgive your dad. And so will you.”
Marcus glanced at her. “And Francis?”
Dree’s smile slipped away. “Like I said . . . I haven’t mastered it yet. For Francis, I will gladly make an exception.”
Dree lay there for a long time, listening to Marcus’s gentle breathing. But try as she might, she couldn’t fall asleep. She slowly got up and snuck from the cavern, heading into Forost’s ever-winding passages to a small chamber where the human refugees were huddled together in the dark. There was no night and day in the mountain, and people slept and woke at random times. She knew many longed for sunlight.
Dree walked into the chamber, lit faintly by a few candles and torches. She spotted her family in the corner: Abi, Rochin, Marny, and Otto, with her mother watching over them like a sentry. Her father wasn’t there—he was likely in the war room, planning the attack. He slept even less than Dree did.
Dree wandered over and saw that Abi and the boys were asleep. Rochin was sitting up, hugging his knees and staring at nothing. He had been helping with the armor a little, but mostly he just sat and slept and stared. He looked bad too—pale skin and gaunt features, like he was quickly becoming a ghost.
“Dree?” her mother said, looking over. “Hey.”
“Hey, Mom,” Dree said. “Can we talk?”
Her mother nodded and stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“Let’s walk for a second.”
Dree took her mother’s hand and led her from the chamber, not wanting anyone else to overhear. She could feel Rochin’s eyes on her back, but she ignored him. She needed to talk to her mother alone.
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked, sounding worried.
Dree stopped and faced her, and for the second time in a week, her eyes filled with tears.
“I started that house fire when we were kids,” she said coarsely, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to. My . . . my skin causes them sometimes. Like Eria said back in the war room. I think I’m a Fury. I can’t control it. When I’m angry or upset . . . the flames just come to the surface. And I was mad. I was mad you sent me up to my room, and I sat there and it started to get warm. I didn’t even know what was happening. The fire was already raging when I realized. I didn’t even feel it. That’s when it all began. The screaming. I did it, Mom. You were right. I caused the house fire. I’m responsible for Gavri’s death.”
Dree’s mother put a trembling hand to her mouth, as if disbelieving, and soon tears were streaming down her face as well. Dree expected her mother to scream, to slap her, to storm off back to the chamber and never speak to her again. Instead, she wrapped Dree in a hug, pulling her into the nook of her shoulder.
“It wasn’t your fault, Dree. Even when I suspected you had done something and I said those things . . . I knew it wasn’t your fault. You were a child and you didn’t know any better. And now . . . now that I know this. I am so sorry, Dree. I was so broken . . . so sad . . . I needed to blame someone. Anyone. And I blamed you, because I knew something had happened, even if I didn’t know what. It was wrong. I am so sorry.”
They held each other for a while, and Dree let the tears spill out. Her mother pulled back.
“You are not responsible,” she said firmly, taking Dree’s face in her hands. “You are a Fury, and you were far too young to control your powers. It is not your fault. Do you understand?”
Dree nodded, almost unable to see through her tears. “I saw him. I was falling from Baby Hybrid, and I was about to die. I thought maybe I deserved it. And . . . Gavri came to me on the back of a dragon, and he told me that I wasn’t done here yet. He looked so happy. He was just like I remembered, Mom.”
Her mom started to cry again, and they embraced. Finally Dree led her mother back to their family, where Rochin still watched them carefully, and then Dree started back for Marcus and the others.
She climbed onto her makeshift bed and slipped into a peaceful sleep.
When they woke, work immediately started again. Hours melted by with the flame of the torch and the slow, meticulous wiring of the hull. Lourdvang woke up and began to help as well, carting over the heavier pieces of metal and breathing fire onto the metal when Dree’s torch wasn’t hot enough. Marcus and Jack worked side by side, finishing the extremely complicated casings for the power cells and twin computer cores.
Dree had moved on to the second wing now, welding hinges and joints to allow the hybrid to maneuver more effectively—she was trying everything she could to give it any advantage over the original. Propulsion engines were fixed to the back of each wing as before, and she had attached two machine guns under each wing as well. The new hybrid was starting to take shape, but it still had a long way to go.
Jack suddenly threw down a wrench. “Impossible,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense!”
“What?” Marcus asked, peering out from farther down the hull.
“The power cell transfer,” Jack said, staring at the hybrid. “I’ve been thinking about it for days now. We just don’t have the conduits necessary. You can’t
just transfer kinetic energy into metal, Marcus. You can’t move legs without hydraulics, and we don’t have them. None of this is even possible!”
Marcus exchanged a look with Dree. He climbed out of the hull and nodded at Lourdvang.
“That’s because you’re thinking with normal physics,” Marcus said.
Jack frowned. “As opposed to . . . ?”
“Well, you’re in Dracone. Teen Hybrid isn’t purely mechanical. Lourdvang?”
Lourdvang bent down and breathed a small plume of fire into the wing, the flames flowing over the pistons and joints and gears. The wing suddenly moved upward, as if alive, and the circuitry hummed to life.
“How?” Jack whispered.
“It’s an energy source,” Marcus explained, “like the Egg. Magic is real here. But really, what is magic anyway? I figure it’s just everything normal science can’t explain. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
Jack stared at him. “You’ve grown up fast, Mr. Brimley.”
Marcus shrugged. “A dragon–drone war will do that to you.”
Jack smiled, and they both climbed back into the skeletal hull. Dree resumed her welding, creating a new bead around some reinforced steel plating. The metal bubbled and merged, forging a new, stronger bond. Lourdvang curled up behind her, watching the wing slowly take shape.
“I might say the same for you,” Lourdvang said, eyeing her as she moved on to another section. “You’ve matured a great deal since all of this began.”
“And you, baby brother.”
He chuckled, spewing a wave of black smoke. “All of us, I guess. I feel as old as stone.”
Dree glanced at him. “You’re becoming the leader you were meant to be.”
“Meant to be? I’m an abandoned orphan,” he pointed out. “I was meant to be dead.”
“If that were true, I wouldn’t have found you. You’re the son of Erdath now. The future leader of the Nightwings.”
Lourdvang blinked one giant blue eye and shook his head, a gesture she had taught him.
“That was never decided.”
Dree shrugged and turned back to her welding. “We don’t get to decide our fate.”
“I think you’re deciding your fate right now.”
Dree laughed. “You’re probably right. Can you grab me another plate, baby brother?”
“If I’m going to be the leader of the Nightwings, you’re going to have to stop calling me that.”
“Never.”
Lourdvang snorted and went to retrieve another metal plate. For just a moment, it felt like they were all at peace. But Dree knew the war was still waiting. That people and dragons were dying with every passing hour, and that Francis was still after them. Her smile slipped away, and she got back to work.
A few days later, Dree, Marcus, Abelard, Nathaniel, and Erdath sat together in the empty war room, all of them looking grim. The week was all too quickly drawing to a close, and the attack was nearing. Teen Hybrid had finally taken shape in a haze of fire and circuitry, and she would be ready. Barely.
“The palace is well protected,” Nathaniel said. “But not invulnerable.”
Marcus shook his head. “They will have installed defenses in the water and sewage systems after our last break-in. And if there are drones hovering overhead, it will be a bloody battle to get past them.”
“My scouts say that there are at least ten drones overhead at all times,” Erdath said.
Abelard looked at him, shaking his head. “And many more a short flight away.”
“I agree it would be better to get in quietly,” Dree said, “but it just won’t be possible this time. The drones have infrared and radar, and they don’t need to sleep. Does Francis ever leave the palace?”
“No,” Nathaniel said. “Never. We have a few spies in the city keeping watch. They are all instructed to take a shot at him if they can, but they don’t get the chance. He’s much too careful now.”
“Take a shot?” Dree asked. “Is this an assassination now?”
Abelard and Nathaniel exchanged a look. “If need be,” Abelard said.
Erdath growled, and Dree gave her father a cool look. “Even if he deserves it, I thought we said we were going to be better than our enemies? How does an assassination make us any better than Xidorne?”
“We are going to try to take him alive,” Abelard said. “And put him on trial. But if we can’t—”
“He dies,” Nathaniel finished coolly. “And the war is over.”
Marcus and Dree exchanged a glance, but Dree knew there was no use in arguing. “Fine.”
“So if we can’t sneak in, we have to press a full attack,” Marcus reasoned, staring at the map of the palace. “But it will have to be lightning quick. If the full drone army gets there, we’ll be wiped out.”
“What about this precious hybrid?” Nathaniel asked scornfully.
“It will help,” Dree said. “With the Egg, the new hybrid will be very powerful. But things can happen in battle. It could malfunction, or the Egg could be knocked out of its power casing by bullets or missiles. We can’t rely on it alone.”
“Agreed,” Abelard said. “A full attack is our only chance. Teen Hybrid will lead the aerial attack, escorted by every dragon we can put in the mix. They need to win the skies quickly. We will have armored fighters dropped over the walls—we have about nine fire-resistant suits so far we can use. Nathaniel and I will be among them.”
“And so will we,” Dree cut in.
Abelard paused. “I would really prefer if you stayed—”
“We’ve been in the palace before,” Marcus said. “And we don’t need armor. You’re going to need our help. Dree will be riding on Teen Hybrid, and I’ll come in with Lourdvang.”
Abelard looked at his daughter and then sighed, as if sensing her resolve. “Very well. We get in, we grab Francis and take the control room. As soon as we have that, we can shut down the drones. The war will be over. The Resistance will resume control of the city, and we can put Francis on trial.” He turned to Erdath. “All dragon hunting will cease, and Dragon Riders will once again protect the land.”
Erdath nodded. “A good dream. But first we must get to Xidorne and the control room.”
“We leave in two days,” Abelard said. He turned to Dree. “Make sure the hybrid is ready.”
Dree and Marcus left the meeting and started back for their cavern. They climbed the sloping tunnels, their shoes scraping against the rock. Voices from the war room followed them as they walked.
“They have a real thing about leaving us out of the planning,” Marcus said sourly.
“I noticed that,” Dree replied.
“Hey!” a voice called out behind them.
They looked back to find Ciaran Rose hurrying up behind them, her raven hair tied back in a long braid. As always, she looked ready for war: She wore a brown leather jerkin, gauntlets, and her long sword.
“Marcus. Dree. We haven’t had much chance to talk,” Ciaran said. “Walk with me?”
“Sure,” Marcus replied.
Ciaran led them down the tunnel, silent for a moment. Then she turned to them.
“It’s amazing . . . two Furies at once. Nathaniel told me what happened in the factory.”
Marcus shifted. “I lost control.”
“You showed your power.” She suddenly stopped and faced them. “It’s a dangerous thing.”
“We’ll be fine,” Dree said, annoyed. This was none of Ciaran’s business.
Ciaran met her eyes. “My mother was a Rider.”
“I know,” Dree said. “I’m sorry to hear she passed.”
“She was murdered,” Ciaran said coolly. “By Dareon the Black.”
Marcus and Dree exchanged a look. “I’m sorry,” Dree said.
“He killed ten Riders before they stopped him,”
she said. “Imagine what two Furies could do.”
“We’re not like that,” Marcus said, flushing. “We would never hurt another Rider.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ciaran said. She looked away. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I just . . . am troubled by the fact that the Furies have returned. I’ve been waiting my whole life to be a Dragon Rider. Hiding my family history in the shadows and pretending to be a normal girl at school. When I was thirteen I joined the Resistance, and we plotted for some way to end Francis’s hold on the city. Finally, the war has come. And now . . . you are here.”
“What do you mean?” Marcus asked.
She paused. “I just want to make sure we don’t replace Francis with something worse.”
Dree laughed, too stunned to do anything else. “You think we want to rule Dracone?”
“I think you have the potential to.”
Dree shook her head. “I want peace, Ciaran. And I want to be a Dragon Rider like my father. I spent my whole life hiding my true identity too. Living in the docks, poor as dirt, and barely having enough to eat, even though I knew what I could do.” She felt her temper rising again, and her voice got louder. “Not to mention I love the dragons as much as anyone. I raised Lourdvang from a baby. You and I have the same dream. And I don’t need you questioning who I am . . . or Marcus, for that matter. Do you understand?”
Ciaran studied Dree for a moment, scanning over her critically.
“I think we might just become friends, Driele Reiter.”
Dree opened her mouth to retort, and then frowned, surprised.
“Oh. Well, I hope so,” Dree said.
“You’ve got fire, that’s for sure,” Ciaran said. “But I’m glad you’re on my side.”
She stuck out a hand, and Dree gripped it firmly. The two girls nodded at each other.
“I also don’t want to rule,” Marcus added, poking his head in between them.
Dree snorted. “Thanks, Marcus. See you around, Ciaran.”
“I look forward to it, Furies.”
She stalked back down the tunnel, and Marcus glanced at Dree. “That was odd.”