Dragon Curse

by Lisa McMann

  “Yes. Be careful. Once the Revinir learns what happened, the skies will be swarming with dragons looking for you.”

  “Do you have any more of those invisibility components?” Rohan asked Thisbe.

  “A few,” said Thisbe. “We’ll use them only if we need them.” She quickly took stock of her remaining spell components, sorting them out on the table. She’d used up a fair number of them. The others, recognizing some of the familiar items she’d employed to take down the soldiers, backed away carefully. But Thisbe didn’t notice. She divided up the components and put them back into her pockets, which were decidedly less stuffed than before their escape.

  After a hurried snack and something to drink, Thisbe and Rohan left the house, taking the back alley again so as not to be seen. They didn’t want to become familiar to anyone nearby in case the time came that people were out looking for them as well as dragons.

  Things seemed normal, which indicated that the Revinir hadn’t heard of their escape yet. They sped through the town with their heads down, talking quietly. “Is there a book on the common language?” Thisbe asked. “I’d like to learn it so I can communicate better with the others.”

  “I’m sure there is. Maiven has thousands of books in her back rooms. I can teach you some phrases as well.”

  “I’d love that, if you don’t mind.”

  “We’ve got some time on our hands.”

  “You mean as we wait for Dev?”

  “I mean as we wait for Maiven to learn more from the ancient scrolls so we can try to figure out what to do.”

  “I see.” Thisbe glanced at him. “Days? Weeks? I’m not sure how we proceed from here.”

  “We don’t have a solution to the Revinir problem yet, so we need to stay in hiding until we figure it out and know we can beat her. I’m sure Maiven will want to train the other future rulers to fight too. She doesn’t want to hurt any dragons but the Revinir, for obvious reasons—they are co-rulers of this land. Once Maiven comes across something of use, we’ll have to work out a plan. It could take several weeks.”

  Thisbe sighed, feeling impatient. “I wish my people and your people could all work together. Maybe it’s time. . . .”

  “Do you have anyone you could summon from your world to help us? Perhaps the rescue team is itching for some more excitement?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” said Thisbe. “They’ve had some difficulty lately, though. My brother Aaron was the head mage, but before I left, he was ousted.”

  “What? You didn’t mention that!”

  “It didn’t come up,” Thisbe said. “We had enough to figure out when we actually had time to talk.” She filled him in on all that had happened politically during the time she’d been in Artimé. And she mentioned how there were people pitted against her and Fifer, too. “I’m sure things have settled down by now, though. And even while those things were happening, Florence and Aaron and the others were working on new magic to help us destroy the Revinir. I’m hoping by now they’ve come up with something. Once we get to a secluded spot in the forest, I’ll send Florence a seek spell. That’ll signal her that I’m ready for them to come.”

  “That sounds promising,” said Rohan. “Perhaps things are looking up for us after all.”

  After a while they came to the forest. They worked their way down the sickeningly familiar path they’d taken the night they and Sky had discovered Alex’s grave. As they ventured farther in, Rohan began teaching Thisbe a few useful phrases. By the time they reached the mound of dirt that was Alex’s grave, which was now covered in fresh growth, Thisbe could recite several greetings from memory and give simple commands like “Hurry!” and “Follow me!” and “Watch out for that dragon!”

  They settled in, not sure how long Dev would be. While they waited for him to arrive, Thisbe fired off the seek spell to Florence, then started learning words for their surroundings.

  The evening wore on, and there was no sign of Dev. Thisbe wasn’t too worried—their spot in the forest was a bit of a trek from the market square. But then she started thinking things through and doubting their plan. With a start, she turned to Rohan. “Once the Revinir has the treasures, do you think she’ll she give Dev the luxury of another dragon ride? Or would she have lost the sense of urgency and sent him back on foot? That could take significantly longer.”

  Rohan didn’t know the answer. “She doesn’t have much regard for us,” he said. “I wish I’d thought of that earlier.”

  Thisbe pressed her lips together. “Let’s just sit tight. Even if she tells him to walk back, she won’t accompany him down to the dungeon. He could figure out how to sneak out of the castle—he knows his way around that place like no one else.”

  “Let’s keep up hope,” said Rohan. “If he’s stuck walking, it’ll take him a good while longer.”

  Thisbe and Rohan talked about everything that came to mind. Rohan filled Thisbe in about what he expected Maiven to do with the other black-eyed future rulers while she searched for answers. He believed she’d start immediately teaching them to use weapons as she’d learned them, rather than haphazardly, as they’d been forced to do under the Revinir’s control. And telling them the history of their people as rulers, as most of them had been captive since they were very young and wouldn’t know much about it.

  “I want to learn that too,” said Thisbe.

  “We’re all learning our own history at least a little through this ancestor broth,” said Rohan.

  Thisbe rolled over to face him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for days. What images are you seeing?”

  Rohan stared at the sky and chewed on a piece of grass. He didn’t answer right away. “It’s troubling, to be honest,” he said, sitting up. His black eyes shone, and his expression was anguished.

  “Why?” Thisbe asked. Her heart twisted, and she took his hand.

  He looked down. “Like you, I see my mother as a girl.”

  Thisbe propped herself up on her elbow. “You do?” she asked. “What is she doing? What’s so troubling? Was she taken away too?”

  “No.” Tears sprang to his eyes. “She’s . . . she’s helping . . .”

  Thisbe sat up, alarmed, and reached out for Rohan to comfort him. “What is it?”

  “She’s helping pirates,” he said, his voice cracking.

  Thisbe’s eyes narrowed. “What?” she whispered.

  “Helping pirates . . . steal your mother away.”

  Waiting . . . and Waiting

  Thisbe recoiled, pulling her hand away from Rohan’s. She didn’t know what to think. It was strange that his historic visions showed something so similar to hers. But it was terrible that his mother, a black-eyed ruler, was helping to shove Thisbe’s mother onto the pirate ship. “What?” she said again. “What kind of person . . . ?”

  “I know!” said Rohan, sitting up. “Don’t say it. I’m trying to make sense of it. I even drank more of the ancestor broth to see if, perhaps, there was an additional scene for me to learn from, like what happened with you. And . . . it’s true. My mother was helping the pirates kidnap your mother.” He blew out a breath. “And I guess I’m not really all that surprised.”

  “How—what do you mean?” Thisbe knew virtually nothing about Rohan’s past except that his family was dead. He’d always seemed reticent to talk about it, and Thisbe had never pushed him.

  “She’s younger than your mother was. A few years younger. So . . . maybe only eight or nine. A child.”

  “Are you absolutely sure it’s her?”

  Rohan nodded miserably. “There was a painting of my mother as a child that hung over our hearth. The picture is nearly identical to the image in my mind. I don’t understand it—I don’t understand why any nine-year-old girl would be anywhere near the sea, helping pirates steal away fellow black-eyed rulers.”

  Thisbe’s head whirled. In the image in her mind, there were pirates around the girl—which was her mother at age twelve—dragging her onto a ship. She closed her eyes
and conjured up the scene, listening to Maiven’s assistant yelling for Maiven Taveer and watching the scene in motion. This time focusing not on the main girl or the pirates or the assistant, whose back was to her, but on the other people around. And then she froze. There was another girl, scrappy and barefooted, scared and angry and yanking on a rope that was tied to Thisbe’s mother’s wrist. Trying to pull and then shove her toward the pirates.

  “Why?” Thisbe whispered. “Why was she fighting against her own people?”

  “I don’t know.” Rohan was quiet. “She was a terrible person to me, too. That’s why I’m not surprised she did this as a child. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Thisbe.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Thisbe didn’t know what else to say about it. After a while Rohan stood up, and they both realized how dark it had gotten. Neither had any more answers—or at least, if Rohan had them, he wasn’t saying them out loud.

  Thisbe’s thoughts turned to Dev. “I’m getting worried.”

  “About Dev?”

  Thisbe nodded.

  “Me too. Finding the king’s treasures shouldn’t take long if he knows where they are.”

  “What if he couldn’t escape, and he’s actually walking back through the dungeon?” said Thisbe. Her throat tightened. “He’d be going back alone and defenseless, stuck in the catacombs.”

  Rohan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That would be just awful.”

  Thisbe cringed. “We made a big mistake. I didn’t have time to think all of this through before I sent him there!”

  Rohan shifted. “Do you think we should go down through the elevator and look for him? Do you have enough magic left to fight the soldiers if we do?”

  “That seems dangerous.” Thisbe blew out a contemplative breath. “Let’s wait a little longer.”

  They settled back down in the darkness, but Dev didn’t come.

  Just as Thisbe opened her mouth to suggest they’d better go back to the catacombs to find him, a shattering roar pierced their eardrums and tugged at their souls. Thisbe cursed under her breath and clapped her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth as she fought off the pull of the Revinir’s call.

  Rohan, who still hadn’t ingested any dragon-bone broth, held on to Thisbe’s shoulders in support and watched the ancestor images flash before his eyes without having to deal with the effects of the roar. He’d heard it, though, echoing like thunder in a canyon. She sounded furious. “She knows,” he said.

  Thisbe nodded. She could feel it in every muscle and nerve, and she knew with certainty in the back of her mind. “Oh yes. She definitely knows we escaped. The question is, did she find out from Dev? Or after he left the castle? What if she’s got him?” She closed her eyes, a strange sensation lingering after the roar, and an odd, dreadful feeling washed over her.

  Thisbe tried to shake it off, but the feeling held for a while before fading. Slowly she opened her eyes. “She’s got Dev.”

  Feelings and Premonitions

  Should we go to the catacombs and look for Dev anyway?” Rohan asked. “Are you sure he won’t be there?”

  “I’m . . . pretty sure,” said Thisbe, sounding terribly grim. “I got one of those feelings again—one of those premonitions like I had before, regarding the Revinir. She’s got him. I feel . . . ugh. Terrible.” She got up and wiped the dirt and leaves off her pants, then started tromping back to the path into Grimere. “Let’s go. Maiven will be wondering about us, and the others might not know how to handle the roar now that they’ve got the effects of the two broths competing in their minds.”

  Rohan hopped up and trotted after her, and together, with a magical highlighter glowing to help them stay on the path, they went back toward Grimere. Once they broke out of the forest, they could see dozens of dragons soaring overhead on their way to the castle, heeding the Revinir’s call.

  Thisbe’s mind worked overtime as they stumbled across the road. Her heart was torn in two over Dev. What a terrible mistake she’d made! She’d asked him to do this—and he’d done it to save eight others. What had happened? Had he broken character? Did he focus on her when she peered at him, or say something not quite right? Had she discovered he was faking it? Or had the soldiers from the catacombs gotten to her and captured him along the way? Whatever the case, Thisbe was certain Dev was caught, enduring the Revinir’s wrath. What would she do to him next?

  “I should have dumped out the dragon-bone broth,” Thisbe lamented. “Now she’ll get some and feed it to him.”

  “No one thought of that,” said Rohan, trying to comfort her. “It was very rushed.”

  “I messed up. Poor Dev—this is all my fault. Why did I think he could do it?” She muttered under her breath. “Maybe he did it just fine, but the soldiers got to her before he could get away. Ugh! I’m a terrible friend!”

  Rohan stumbled in the darkness and caught himself. “Listen. You got the rest of us out of there unscathed and without being seen. I’d say you did a lot right.”

  “I failed Dev. He didn’t want to do this.”

  “But if you hadn’t pushed him, none of us would be free right now.”

  Thisbe scowled as they ran behind some bushes, trying not to be seen by villagers or the dragons overhead. “What’s more right?” she asked. “Sacrificing Dev so the rest of us could be safe? Or staying together and risking us all being caught? Is one life less important than several lives?”

  Rohan was silent as he contemplated it. “I don’t think there’s a correct answer to that.”

  They ran across the road and entered the more familiar neighborhoods of Grimere. Breathless, they wanted desperately to get to Maiven’s house before the dragons were given instructions by the Revinir. Once that happened, all hell would break loose as they went on the hunt for Thisbe and Rohan and the others. None of them would be safe outside.

  When they reached Maiven’s neighborhood, they went through the back alley as before. With great relief they made it inside the house. There they found Maiven teaching her new subjects how to use a shiv and a dagger to kill an attacker. Things were getting very serious.

  Maiven heard them enter and went to the door to secure it after they came inside. “Where’s Dev?” she asked in a low voice. “Didn’t he come to meet you?”

  They told Maiven what had happened. Thisbe shared that the roar had seemed to trigger a premonition, which made her certain that Dev had been discovered and captured. Whether the Revinir had determined Dev was faking or she’d found out from the soldiers that the other black-eyed slaves had escaped, Thisbe wasn’t sure.

  “At least you’re safe. I’m not sure what we can do for Dev at this point.” Troubled though she was over the news, Maiven also seemed deeply interested in what Thisbe had to say about premonitions. “Tell me more about your premonition, Thisbe. Have you ever had that happen before?”

  “They started after I had my most recent dose of ancestor broth,” Thisbe said. She shared the feelings she’d had in Dragonsmarche when the Revinir was questioning her. And the sense of dread when she knew Dev had been discovered and captured.

  Maiven clasped Thisbe’s hand between hers. She glanced around as the others were putting away their weapons and getting settled for the night. “I get premonitions too. I’ve been feeling them on and off for years. That’s how I knew the great evil person existed from my dungeon cell, though I didn’t know her name. So I believe you when you say you have these feelings. And I hope you’ll always tell me about them, even if the feeling is small. Chances are you have had other premonitions in the past but didn’t understand what they were or view them as a forecast for the future. The ancestor broth has made them more obvious to you. The more aware we are of these things, the more you and I can help guide our people to make the right choices as we move forward. Between us we can be doubly sure that we’re right in our way of thinking.”

  “That’s so strange,” murmured Thisbe, while marveling over how Maiven so naturally included her as a leader here. “Why do
you suppose it happens?”

  “I believe I’m receiving them because I am the eldest remaining ancestor,” said Maiven. “You are noticing them because you’ve taken in enough of the ancestor broth. And perhaps because you are my granddaughter.” She was quiet for a moment. “Since your mother is . . . gone,” she said, her eyes involuntarily closing and a wave of pain washing over her face, “you and your sister are next in line for the throne.”

  “What?” whispered Thisbe.

  “If you wish to have the position, of course,” said Maiven, recovering and offering a wan smile. “The others here would do as fine a job as you, I’m sure. All black-eyed people are entitled to the position, but many are unwilling to make the sacrifices necessary to rule.”

  Thisbe sat back, the wind knocked out of her. “I don’t think I’m ready for something like that,” she said.

  “Well,” said Maiven grimly, “you won’t have to be unless we can overthrow the monster who has taken up residence in my castle. But how? I still don’t have the slightest clue.”

  A Message from Home

  It was unsettling to Thisbe to hear Maiven Taveer, queen and commander of the military in the land of the dragons, express that she had no idea how to defeat their biggest enemy. And even more frightening to think back to her Artiméan friends and family, who also were clueless in how to fight this dragon-woman. But it made Thisbe even more determined. The Revinir was taking control of Grimere, and Thisbe believed that she wouldn’t stop with the land of the dragons, especially since she still wanted Fifer under her control. Artimé might be safe for the moment, but as soon as the Revinir figured out that Fifer was nowhere around this world, she’d venture back there.

  Thisbe and Maiven stayed up talking after most of the others turned in for the night. “Do you suppose the ghost dragons would know how to defeat her?” Thisbe asked Maiven. “I didn’t ask them that before, exactly. All I know is that they are unable to kill her.”