Dragon Captives

by Lisa McMann

  The walls of the ramp were wide enough for Simber, but the turns were too sharp for him to fly down it. So he landed and began running and skidding around the corners. Seth hung on to the cheetah’s neck, his backside bouncing around on Simber’s back. They mowed down the first wave of guards, then the head guard and his three fellow soldiers. Finally they skidded to a halt in the dragons’ dungeon area.

  The dragons, except for Hux, reared up in surprise, for it had been quite a long time since they’d seen anything like Simber.

  “That was easy enough,” said Simber, who had no problem trampling anyone who got in his way. He stood guard while Seth slid off his back to the floor.

  “There are a lot more soldiers in the dungeon,” Seth warned. His legs felt wobbly from the bumpy ride, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that. He quickly climbed up the stable wall near Drock and assessed the situation.

  The muzzles were loose. The timers said it was ten minutes past eight. They had five minutes before the muzzles would snap tight around the dragons’ mouths again. And from the looks of everything, only Drock needed magic to make his wings work.

  Seth knew what he had to do. But he also knew what Simber had to do.

  “Simber,” said Seth, sounding quite authoritative in spite of how timid he felt, “I need you to get these stall doors open right now. We only have a few minutes before the muzzles click tight again.”

  “Why don’t you take the muzzles off them?” asked Simber. “Now that they’rrre loose, isn’t therrre a way to do that?”

  Seth stared at Simber, remembering when they’d returned with Hux and how the soldiers had put the muzzle back on him. “Why didn’t I think of that?” He scooted over to the stall door and perched on it, then took Arabis’s head in his hands. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. Please don’t burn me up. I’m going to get this thing off you.”

  “There’s a lever on the right side of my mouth,” said Arabis carefully, who could talk a little now that the muzzle was loose. “It has two catches.” She snaked her ropelike tail up to her face and pointed them out. Her tail was too thick to wrap around the muzzle and yank it off herself.

  “I see them,” said Seth. He messed around with it, trying this way and that to make the muzzle unhitch. Finally he got the first catch loose, and the second one gave way shortly after. The muzzle fell open. Seth removed it and let it fall.

  “Whew,” he said under his breath. He moved to the next dragon, sweat pouring from him now. Three minutes left. Meanwhile Simber started slamming his head like a battering ram into Arabis’s stable door, splintering it. Then he reared up on his haunches and began ripping pieces off so Arabis could get loose. In between, he roared and chased soldiers who came running to see what was happening. None of them was curious enough to stick around.

  Luckily for Seth, having learned from the first muzzle, Yarbeck’s came off a little faster. And Ivis’s a little faster than that. Seth teetered off balance and nearly fell as he went from Yarbeck’s stall to Hux’s. Hux, who’d been watching what Seth was doing, had been able to use the very tip of his tail like a finger and nearly had the first latch of his muzzle undone already.

  Seth’s fingers shook as he unhooked the second latch and pulled the restraint off, and now Hux’s head was free. With less than a minute left, Seth dove for Drock’s stable. The dragon startled and reared back, even though he knew Seth was coming his way. Seth lost his balance and fell to the ground on top of the feed. With a groan, he rolled over and climbed up the stable wall once more. He tried to control the temperamental one’s head so he could unlatch the muzzle.

  “Come on, Drock!” Seth said, growing desperate. “If we don’t get this muzzle off, you’ll be stuck here. Look—Arabis is free!”

  But the combination of Seth yelling in his face and Simber slamming his head against Yarbeck’s door was too much stimulation for the young dragon. Drock wiggled and snorted, nearly yanking Seth off balance again. Arabis stuck her head in Drock’s stable and spoke to him in what Seth remembered as the real dragon language, the language Pan had used with Hux when they had reunited.

  “Thirty seconds left,” Seth muttered. Sweat flooded his eyes, blinding him. He wiped them with his sleeve.

  Drock was settling down. Quickly Arabis nodded at Seth and kept her head close by. Seth moved in once more and swiftly unhooked the first latch. And then, at last, he released the second. As he ripped the contraption off Drock’s head, he could hear the distinct sound of the five muzzles slamming together tightly, all at once.

  Seth nearly collapsed from the stress of it all and the racket Simber was making. But the rescue was far from over.

  Yarbeck and Ivis were free from their stables now too, and suddenly there was no room outside the stables for Simber to tear down the last two doors. “Keep moving,” Seth said to the three free ones. He climbed down the outside of Drock’s stable to give some instructions. “Go up the ramp and torch the crud out of any soldier who comes this way.”

  “You know we can’t do that,” Arabis reminded Seth.

  Seth blew out a breath and waited for Simber to stop pounding. He’d forgotten about the dragon code, of course. “Well, torch the bad ones and just pretend like you’re going to torch the good ones—they’ll run away.”

  Arabis seemed amenable to that.

  “Okay, great. I’ll holler when the other two are free, and I want all five of you to stick together and get out of here. Take for the skies above the castle. We’ll meet you there, and we’ll all fly home together. You hear me? Drock, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” said Drock. Now that his muzzle was off, he seemed a bit calmer.

  The three females all moved up the ramp and out of the way. Then Simber started slamming his head into Hux’s stable door.

  Hux was very smart and a fast learner, so once Simber had used his stone noggin to split the wood, Hux put the weight of his shoulder into pressing against it, helping Simber to tear off giant planks of it.

  “Try to hurry,” Seth muttered. He stood aside, and now and then he could hear a lot of yelling coming from inside the dungeon. And then he jolted back to reality. In all the intensity of getting the muzzles off, he’d forgotten about Drock’s wings. “Oh crud,” he said. How was he supposed to do that? The pit of fear and panic began inside him and started to grow again.

  He pushed it back. And for the millionth time that day, he began climbing into the stable. Feeling defeated before he even began, and knowing he wasn’t capable of this kind of magic, he settled on the wall and looked at Drock. They’d had a rough time of it so far, these two. But Seth was bound and determined to get these dragons out of there. It almost felt like a test. Was he good enough to be here? To be doing this? Or was he really only good for doing the grunt work, like Thisbe and Fifer had told Pan? He frowned and tried to push the doubts away so he could concentrate.

  “Drock, listen,” he said softly, even though the noise around him was ferocious. Drock’s ears twitched, and Seth continued. “If we don’t fix your wings, you won’t be able to escape with the others. You’ll be stuck here. And that might ruin everything, because I have a feeling that the reason all of you haven’t escaped in the past is because you’d always have to leave someone behind. You’re loyal, and that’s really admirable. I like that a lot.”

  Drock faced forward but stayed still, and Seth could tell he was listening. He went on, trying to keep his voice calm like Arabis had done, but knowing he had to be firm. Kind of like his mom. He could definitely channel his mom here.

  Feeling a little more confident, he rested his hand on Drock’s neck. The dragon arched but settled again, and Seth spoke. “If you want to get out of here, and if you don’t want to ruin your brother and sisters’ chance at freedom, I’m going to need you to bring your wings up here one at a time. I’ll be checking to make sure the new pieces are still attached, because they’re looking a little rough. And then, once everything is in order, I’m going to rest my hand on the seam of the new
part. And . . . and I’m going to concentrate, and whisper a spell, and it might take a few minutes. And it might take a few tries. But, Drock, I promise you, once we’re done . . . you’re going to fly again. And we’re all going to get out of here. Together.”

  Drock didn’t buck or kick or rear back. He didn’t do a full-body shudder or slam against the stable wall trying to knock Seth off. He stood, breathing hard, trembling a little.

  Seth watched him. And then suddenly it dawned on him that what Drock was going through was a bit like what Seth had gone through earlier. The dragon was overwhelmed and panicking. And Seth understood completely. “It’s going to be all right,” he soothed. “Just take one breath at a time. It’s okay to feel scared.”

  Drock blinked a few times and, despite Simber slamming his head against his stable door, kept the flinching to a minimum. After a moment he lifted the wing closest to Seth and held it in the air.

  “Great job.” Seth moved his hand off Drock’s neck and gently slid along the top of the stable wall to reach for the wing. The new piece was barely hanging on. Seth did his best to stay calm and repair it as Simber battered Drock’s door into submission.

  From up the ramp, they could hear the sound of marching feet—apparently the soldiers had organized and were preparing to fight Arabis. Seth knew he didn’t have much time.

  “I’m going to climb on your back now, Drock,” said Seth. “Is that okay?”

  Drock nodded, still trembling. Seth moved carefully onto the dragon’s back, draped the first wing over the side of the stable, then moved to repair the second wing. It, too, was falling apart, but Seth adjusted the wiry scatterclips the best he could. As Simber ripped the last of the door away, Seth sat motionless on Drock’s back, almost going into a trancelike state of concentration.

  “Stay still now,” said Seth, rising up to his feet and balancing. Drock shook a little and breathed hard, but even though his stable door was gone and his head was free from the muzzle, he remained as motionless as he could.

  Seth reached up for the first wing, remembering what Fifer had shouted to him. He pressed one hand gently on the seam. Then he closed his eyes, putting his full trust in the dragon and trying to ignore the chaos that was going on outside the room. He pictured the dark purple dragon flying free, his wings sleek and strong. He thought about the care and love he and Fifer had put into the wings, and how, because of that, they were beautiful.

  He breathed deeply, feeling a strange calmness come over him like he’d never felt before. The noise around him was drowned out by the peacefulness inside him.

  When he was ready, he whispered, “Live.”

  Taking Flight

  Simber tried not to distract Seth. He understood the difficulty of bringing a nonliving thing to life. After all, he’d had his own traumatic experiences with that. But while Seth was seemingly taking a nap on Drock’s back, the surprise attack was quickly becoming a non-surprise. The soldiers had organized and were threatening the dragons. And Simber still had to rescue Carina and Thatcher, but he needed Seth to tell him how to find them—besides, he couldn’t leave Seth here alone. They had to stick together or risk the boy getting captured.

  So Simber paced in the open area outside the stables, wishing for Seth to hurry up.

  When Seth opened his eyes, he was silent for a long moment. He examined the wing, and then looked closer. The new piece had melded to the old, and it looked like an actual dragon wing instead of burlap and flower petals. Seth’s heart surged. “I did it,” he whispered. He whirled around. “I did it!” he shouted to Simber. Drock started and almost bucked Seth off.

  “Good,” said Simber. “Hurrry up with the otherrr one orrr we’ll neverrr get out of herrre.”

  “Oh, right!” said Seth, softer. He turned quickly but carefully, letting Drock know at every move what he was doing. He reached for the second wing and concentrated, imagining Drock flying, until he felt the same sense of calmness he’d felt before. And then, as if he’d done it a hundred times, said, “Live.”

  The second wing extension came alive, just like the first one had.

  “Well done, Drock!” Seth said, throwing himself at the dragon’s neck. “It’s over. You did it! Now go join your siblings and don’t get caught.”

  The dragon needed no urging. He burst out of the stall, knocking Seth to the floor one last time.

  Seth scrambled to his feet. “Dragons, go!” he shouted. “Tell them, Simber.”

  Simber let out a bellow that rose above the din, commanding the dragons to take flight and escape from the castle by any means necessary. And within a moment, Drock had made his way up the ramp behind the others, bits of fiery breath filling the air around his mouth. He was ready to fight for freedom.

  Seth, exhausted, limped to Simber’s side. The cheetah helped him up on his back. “Let’s find yourrr motherrr,” said Simber. “Wherrre do we go?”

  “Down that hallway,” said Seth. “Watch out. There are guards all along it.”

  Simber approached the passageway and eyed the narrow space. “I can’t fit thrrrough therrre,” he said. “Is therrre anotherrr way?”

  “I think so, but I have no idea where it is, or if it’s any wider than this.” Seth’s heart sank. “We have to get to them. Please don’t make me go alone. Please, Simber. I . . . I can’t do it. I’m so tired. There are hundreds of soldiers, and they’ll kill me for sure.”

  “Therrre,” said Simber, a rare hint of sympathy for the exhausted boy coming through in his voice. “Of courrrse I wouldn’t send you in alone. We’ll go togetherrr. Make yourrrself as small as you can on my back, and coverrr yourrr face and head. We’rrre going in. Just stay on my back, keep yourrr arrrms and legs close to my body, and don’t worrry about fighting.”

  Seth had no idea what Simber was planning, but he didn’t question the cat. He leaned forward against Simber’s neck and covered his head with one arm while hanging on tightly with the other. “I’m ready,” he said.

  Simber needed no urging. He stepped back to create the longest runway he could make, and then sprang forward and ran at the too-narrow doorway, wings folded, muscles rippling under his sandstone skin. “Hold on!” he growled, and slammed through the hallway, his broad shoulders hitting on either side. He burrowed a new, larger hallway as he plowed along. Sparks flew as stone scraped stone, Simber’s magical body, fortified by preserve spells, winning out on almost all counts.

  Seth wasn’t an eyewitness to any of it. He kept his head down and hoped not to die now, after all he’d accomplished. It was a rough ride. Thousands of tiny stones pelted his back and neck and buried themselves in his hair. Soon his body was covered in a film of dust. Occasionally soldiers went flying up and over Simber’s wing as he took them out along the way.

  Seth surfaced for a moment. “I don’t know which cell they’ll be in!” he shouted, his voice jiggling. “But Dev told me that Thisbe was in three thirty-three, so there are hundreds of them. She was really deep inside, nearer to the other exit, I think.” He didn’t know if it would help them find his mother and Thatcher, but it couldn’t hurt.

  “Don’t worrry,” said Simber. “I’ll be able to find them.”

  Seth sank down in relief. It was amazing to have Simber here. And it was wonderful not to be in charge of anything once again. He liked it this way far better.

  While Simber and Seth were forging a new, larger hallway in the dungeon, the five dragon siblings, with Arabis leading, reached the top of the ramp. They headed for the exit, dodging the soldiers’ projectile weapons the best they could. The first four dragons stayed diligent to their code of only harming those who were more than 50 percent evil. But Drock wasn’t much of a rule follower, and he torched anyone who got in his way.

  As soon as the ceiling opened up in the grand entryway, the dragons took flight, a bit cautiously at first. But the new wings worked moderately well from the first flap, even if they weren’t much to look at. Arabis continued to lead the way, soaring up and toward the
drawbridge. And then she faltered in the air and swooped around, making a circle at the ceiling. Because there was just one problem.

  The portcullis was back down and the drawbridge was up. And though the drawbridge had an ample hole in it the size of Simber, which the dragons could probably squeeze through, the iron bars of the portcullis stood between them. There was no way out unless someone opened the portcullis for them. All they could do was circle in the vast castle entry, dodging spears and arrows and whatever else the soldiers and guards were throwing or shooting at them, and hope that the barriers would open. But there was little chance of that. Only a member of the royal family or the entry guard himself could command it to be done. The dragons were trapped.

  As they flew around, they knew eventually they’d have to come back down and face the wrath of the king, and perhaps even the Revinir. Things were looking terribly grim.

  » » « «

  Near the area where the tigers were chained, Dev pushed through the crowd, dropping the load of firewood he’d just gathered. He searched the entry, knowing he had only one job when chaos came into the castle—to find and protect the princess. He scanned the area, trying not to get trampled by the king’s soldiers, and ran toward the tigers, where he thought Shanti might be.

  “Shanti,” he called, forgetting formality under the circumstances. “Shanti!” Not finding her, he ran through the entryway, glancing in awe at the loose dragons above his head and wondering how Fifer and Seth had managed to free them, before refocusing. “Shanti!” He dashed through the legion of soldiers, ducking when necessary to avoid getting clobbered, and headed toward the perimeter of the room where the crowd was thinner.