by Lisa McMann
He began to look around for his riders. “Carrrina!” he growled, scanning the water for her. “Thatcherrr!”
“I’m here!” called Carina, waving so the cat could spot her. “But I can’t find Thatcher!”
“Does he swim?”
“Yes. He’s as good as any of us.” Carina whirled around as she treaded water, trying desperately to spot him. “Thatcher!” she called.
Simber soared over the area, his careful eyes taking in everything they could.
Carina dove underwater to search better. As she floated near the island, she thought she felt vibrations pulsing through the water. They seemed weaker than the last time she’d been here, and at first she wondered if she was imagining them. But then they happened again. Immediately she struck for the surface, her heart racing. When she emerged, she yelled, “Simber! The island is trembling! It’s going to sink!”
Alarmed, Simber stopped combing the waters and flew over to Carina. He dipped a wing down low, and she grabbed on to it as he went by. He flipped his wing up, launching Carina onto his back as if they’d practiced dozens of times. She scooted up on his back and grabbed him around the neck as she caught her breath. “Any sign of him?”
“None,” said Simber. “Did you see wherrre he landed?”
“I was in a spiral—I don’t even know where I landed.”
“Same herrre.” Simber flew low to the water. “We’rrre going to have to go underrr. Rrready?”
“Ready.” Carina took a deep breath. As they plunged underwater, Carina held on as tightly as she could. Like countless others, Carina and Thatcher had learned to exercise what Ms. Octavia called underwater breathing, which allowed a person to hold their breath for six or seven minutes at a time if necessary. It worked great if you were planning on doing it. But there were no guarantees when plunging underwater came as a surprise.
The Island of Fire shook again, sending slightly stronger vibrations through the water. Feeling them, Simber propelled himself even harder with his wings, his eyes and ears on high alert for any sign of Thatcher.
Carina felt the tremors too and squeezed Simber’s neck harder. She knew they didn’t have much time before they’d have to get out of there. If they didn’t, they’d get sucked down with the force of water as the island sank and they’d be dragged to their deaths. Where is Thatcher? Carina tried to open her eyes so she could help look for him, but her eyelids weren’t willing to cooperate against the pressure and speed.
When Simber took a wild turn, Carina could only hope it was because he had spotted the young man. But a sensation of her world brightening made her realize they were headed upward. At the same time, the water pulsed again, and soon Carina felt a deepening suction tugging at her, nearly ripping her body off Simber’s. She tightened her grip, dug her heels into his flanks, and hung on for dear life.
Seconds later Simber and Carina burst from the water as the volcano plunged below the surface, dragging millions of gallons of water and everything else floating nearby into its empty maw.
They circled and circled as the water crashed below, Simber’s senses on their highest alert possible, and Carina staring at the churning water until it felt like her eyes would pop out. Before she could fully catch her breath, Simber made a sharp turn in midair.
“Hang on!” he cried, and soared like a bullet back down to the roiling surface, claws outstretched. With a frustrated roar, he swooped into the whirlpool of water like a giant hawk that had spotted its prey. They hit the water hard, and then Simber turned sharply toward the sky and rose up. This time, hanging from his claws, was Thatcher’s limp body.
A Major Setback
There was nowhere for Simber to land. Flying out of harm’s way, he gripped Thatcher tenuously by the back of his shirt, which was ripped enough already to cause Simber great concern that he’d lose the young man again. Once they cleared the dangerous area, the great cat slowed his speed and moved closer to the surface of the water so that Carina could jump off and pull Thatcher to safety if he dropped. Soon Simber hovered low enough that the tips of his wings, and Thatcher’s feet, splashed in the waves.
“I’m going in,” said Carina. She dove into the water and quickly surfaced. Simber turned around and glided back toward her. She held her arms out. “Okay, drop him right in front of me!”
Simber released Thatcher, who slipped into the water feetfirst. Carina caught his wrist, pulled him toward her, then wrapped her arms around his chest. She flipped to her back and slipped under Thatcher, keeping his head as high as she could, and began to tread water, waiting until Simber could swing around once more and rescue them. As she did, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed hard on his chest, trying to get him to breathe.
Simber turned around, then came back and made a shallow dive in front of them. He slid underneath the two and lifted them up as steadily as he could.
Once she felt Simber below her, Carina righted herself and dragged Thatcher’s body along so he rested securely on Simber’s back. All the while, whenever she could, she worked on reviving him. After a few moments, the young man began coughing wildly, spewing seawater everywhere. He gasped for air.
“Thank goodness,” Carina breathed. “That was close.”
» » « «
The ordeal had been exhausting, and once Thatcher came to life and could support himself, Carina sank back between Simber’s shoulder blades. “I think he’s okay,” she called to the cheetah.
“Sounds that way,” said Simber, relieved now that the danger appeared to be over.
Thatcher continued to gasp and cough, and then rolled over to his stomach and lay there, chest heaving, water dripping off him.
“You’ll be all right in a bit,” Carina said. “Hurts, though, doesn’t it? Is this your first near drowning?”
Thatcher shook his head and coughed more.
“Well, good—you know how it goes, then. Are you ready to continue?”
This time Thatcher nodded.
“Do you want something to . . . ?” She trailed off, looking to the tail end of Simber where they’d strapped their supplies—food, water, and extra components. The crate was gone, lost in the chaos. “Oh no!” she cried. Her hands flew to her component vest, which was still stocked with components, but she didn’t have even a drop of freshwater on her. Nor did Thatcher. “Simber, I’m afraid we’ve lost the supplies. The crate is gone.”
Simber turned his head sharply to see for himself, while Thatcher lifted himself up between violent fits of coughing to look too.
The cheetah growled in frustration. He scanned the sea, but there was no sign of the crate floating on the waves. “I’m surrre it went down into the volcano when it submerrrged,” he said. He shook his head, angry with himself. “It was foolish of me to fly dirrrectly overrr the volcano like that. I’m sorrry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Carina said. “You were taking the shortest route. And besides, we wanted to see Sky’s progress. I’m the one who told you to go closer.”
“But we can’t continue ourrr jourrrney without supplies,” said Simber. “Can we?” He certainly didn’t need any supplies to survive, but the humans’ needs were sometimes baffling to him.
Carina was silent. She knew freshwater was the most important thing they lacked, and it was probably even more crucial for Thatcher than for her, after the ordeal he’d just gone through. She searched Thatcher’s face. “What do you think?” she asked him. “Be honest.”
He sat up. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice raspy. “We’ve come this far already. How much farther is it?”
“We’re more than halfway to the waterfall, but we don’t know what distance we have to go beyond that to reach the land of the dragons.” She turned back to Simber and laid a hand on his neck. “You don’t know the answer from what Pan told you, do you? I mean, I know you’re sworn to protect the dragon code, or whatever, but this is kind of important.”
Simber hesitated. “I don’t know exactly. But I don’t think i
t’s farrr beyond the waterrrfall.”
“So that’s . . . what? A full day’s journey without water. Assuming we can find some once we get to where we’re going.”
“We could go back to Warrrblerrr and rrrestock.”
“That’s nearly as long a journey in the wrong direction, also without freshwater.” Carina pressed her lips in a tight line, contemplating, and looked at Thatcher again. “We’re going to have to do without either way. What do you say? I think we may as well soldier on.”
Thatcher wiped his face on his sopping shirt as he thought through the scenario. His throat ached, and his mouth felt disgusting after all the seawater he’d taken in. But he was feeling a little stronger. Going back to Warbler would delay them severely. Plus, it wouldn’t bring the drinking water much sooner than if they continued on. “I’m worried about the kids,” he said. “I can make it if you can.”
Carina studied him. “If you’re sure,” she said. “Obviously I’d like to keep going and find my son.”
Thatcher swallowed hard and nodded. He hadn’t had to sacrifice like this in a long time. But he’d given his all before, in the final battle, and he had the scars to prove it. If he could survive that, he could make it through this. “Land of the dragons it is.”
Carina clasped Thatcher’s hand in a show of gratitude, then turned to face forward. She patted Simber’s neck. “Onward, my friend. Full speed ahead.”
Simber flapped his mighty wings, rising higher off the water and picking up speed. The battered and bruised rescue team was on its way once more.
A Night Visitor
Thisbe, Fifer, Seth, and Dev continued their journey to the castle through the sweltering afternoon and into the evening. Everyone had unanswered questions running through their minds, but Fifer and Seth followed Thisbe’s lead and didn’t say much about what they were doing or why they wanted to do it. And Dev had questions of his own. Occasionally he cleared his throat to ask, but he always backed down. He knew they were mad at him, and he knew why—their growling stomachs were complaining loud enough for him to hear. But they didn’t have the first clue about his motivation.
Not that Dev was about to reveal it. He had too much at stake now.
Finally, under the cover of darkness and with the castle looming closer than ever, they made camp in an open area. “The river’s not far,” Dev told the others.
“Why don’t we set up camp by the river, then?” Fifer asked.
“To keep out of the way of the wild animals that come out to eat and drink at night. Plus, we want to stay off the plant life.”
“Why?” asked Seth. “Wouldn’t it be softer to sleep on?”
Dev pulled a few sticks together and began to build a fire. “That would kill the plants and leave the animals hungry.”
Again Thisbe puzzled over their guide. Every time she wanted to hate him, he did or said something surprisingly kindhearted. “You like animals?” she asked.
“I like to eat,” he answered truthfully.
“Oh. I thought for a minute there you actually had a heart.” Thisbe sniffed and turned away. But the simple mention of eating sent her stomach growling fiercely. “I’m going to get some water,” she said.
“Wait,” said Dev, pulling a flint from his ragged pocket. “Let me get this started and I’ll go with you.” He struck the flint near the kindling a few times, and then blew furiously. The sticks caught fire. When he was sure it would continue burning, he looked at Seth and Fifer. “Don’t let this go out.”
“Um, okay,” said Seth. He glanced sidelong at Fifer, and the two exchanged a bewildered look. They’d never had to tend a nonmagical fire before and had no idea what to do, but not wanting to appear stupid, they went along with it as if they had.
Dev rummaged through another pocket and pulled out a box the size of his palm. He slid it open and, using the firelight to see, selected a hook that was attached to some fishing line. “Okay, Thisbe the thief, let’s go to the river.”
“You can stop calling me that now.” Thisbe grabbed the canteens and followed Dev. When they reached the riverbank, Dev cautioned Thisbe to be quiet. “Let me catch one before you fill your canteens,” he said. “I don’t want you to scare them away.”
Thisbe frowned, not sure if she should feel offended, but she’d spent enough time in water to know how easy it was to frighten fish, so she determined it wasn’t a slight. She hung back silently, watching him as he balanced on his haunches. He slid something on the end of the hook and lowered it into a still section of the water, which resembled a miniature lagoon like the one in Artimé.
Dev remained incredibly still. When he finally jerked his arms sharply and stood, it gave Thisbe a fright, but she soon realized he held a big, shining, flopping fish on the end of his hook.
“You can go ahead and fill your canteens now,” he said.
Thisbe did so. “Is that enough for all of us?” she asked, eyeing the fish and trying not to watch as Dev took out a pocketknife and put it out of its misery.
Dev laughed. “No. It’s enough for me. I didn’t think you cared for eating animals.”
“We eat fish,” said Thisbe, indignant.
“What’s the difference?”
Thisbe wasn’t sure. She thought for a second. “The land animals where we come from are mostly magical creatures. I couldn’t imagine eating them.” She would gladly take a platyprot egg right about now, though. She glared once again. “So you’re not going to share that fish?”
“No.”
Fury bubbled inside Thisbe. “Well, can I at least borrow that hook and line from you?”
Dev carefully unthreaded the hook from the dead fish’s mouth. “Sure.” He handed it to her. “But you probably won’t catch anything now. They’ve all scattered.”
Thisbe made a frustrated noise and took the hook and line. But she had nothing to use as bait. It was useless, but she didn’t know how to admit it without feeling totally idiotic. At least she was trying. That was more than what Seth or Fifer was doing.
“So, that was magic you did,” Dev said.
“What?”
“When you killed the sidewinder.”
“Oh, that. Yeah.”
“Your land is magical?”
“I guess you’d say that.” Thisbe dunked the hook in the water a few times.
“Why don’t you just make some magical food, then?”
“Why don’t you shut it?” asked Thisbe sweetly.
Dev stared at her. “I’m going back. Don’t lose my hook.” He hesitated. “And don’t get eaten.”
“By what?” asked Thisbe, whirling around.
Dev shrugged, an evil smile playing at his lips. “Dragons. This is their land, after all.”
“That would probably be the best thing that could happen to me right now,” Thisbe said.
Dev shook his head slowly. “You are the strangest person I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re the rudest,” said Thisbe, waving him off. “Go on. Go away.” She turned her back on him, more determined than ever to catch something with her baitless hook.
After a minute she could hear Dev shuffle back toward the fire. She squatted and folded one arm around her knees to warm herself against the evening chill. It had been so hot all day, and now it was cold. She missed Artimé’s perfect climate. She missed Alex and the mansion, and all the comforts of home. And she began to wonder about what Alex must be thinking. Was he worried? He must be—he’d sent enough seek spells. How foolish it was for her and Fifer and Seth to run off like that, thinking they’d be back by morning. She cried over her sorrows for a moment, knowing that would make her feel better. Then she pulled up her empty hook, splashed water on her face, and took a few deep breaths. There was nothing she or any of them could do but to find a familiar dragon, give it new wings, and let it take them home. There was no use feeling sorry for herself. And wherever the dragons were, there was probably food, too. They just needed to get a good night’s rest and start moving again in
the morning. The castle wasn’t far away now. They were so close she could almost smell dinner cooking.
Thisbe’s stomach rumbled again, and she realized she could smell dinner cooking—Dev’s dinner. She got up and went back to the camp area. There she made a spot to lie down, faced away from Dev and the others—who were looking just as put out as she—and willed herself to fall asleep. And it must have worked, because hours later, she awoke to the sound of Dev screaming.
In the Middle of the Night
Dev’s shouts caused a chain reaction of screams from everyone else, though the twins and Seth had no idea what they were yelling about. It was a shock to be pulled so abruptly from a deep sleep into defense mode. All of them scrambled to their feet before they could even think straight, ready to fight the first thing they set eyes on.
In an instant they had their answer. A roar, followed by a large burst of fire, woke up the night. The flames revealed Hux the dragon, which silenced the screams, at least momentarily. Though their hearts still pounded, the three Artiméans sighed with relief, but Dev wasn’t on the same page as them at all. He merely took a breath and began yelling again to run. He scrambled to his feet and fell back down again in his haste. The other children couldn’t get a word in edgewise to let Dev know there was nothing to worry about—they were safe.
Thisbe took a bit of satisfaction in watching Dev panic. He deserved it after his selfishness with the fish. He began scrambling away on his hands and knees. Soon the dragon had enough of Dev’s noise and picked the boy up in his teeth. Hux laid him on the ground, then held him in place with one of his front feet.