FLIGHT

by Katie Cross

  Tenzin snarled at Luteis but allowed Tashi to touch his wing. He didn’t glimmer like the forest dragons. His scales were a murky tan without luster, and they bristled along his neck when Luteis sniffed the air. Around his belly and shoulders was strapped a square piece of leather and a rope that looped around the top of his neck but avoided his face. Tashi grabbed a rope ladder and climbed up it, settling onto a square patch of long haired, ebony fur.

  “Although you’ll see it yourself soon enough,” she said, grasping the rope, “desert dragons aren’t as intelligent as forest or mountain dragons. They have to be trained to fly with witches. They can’t communicate through speech or thought. They have no language except desperation. They’re as feral as your forest lions.”

  When Tashi tugged the rope in her hands gently to the right, Tenzin shuffled that way.

  Luteis remained uncharacteristically quiet. Sanna pressed a hand to his foreleg. He nudged her back.

  “Come,” Tashi called. “Let’s get this ride over with. It may get bumpy over the desert.”

  Tenzin coiled back, then sprang into the air. His lithe, nimble size made it easy for him to navigate the gargantuan trunks of Letum Wood. Within seconds, he disappeared in the complicated canopy.

  This, Luteis said, will be an interesting flight.

  Luteis lowered his tail, and Sanna scrambled all the way up, running along his spine. He took to the sky.

  You’ve been quiet, she said to him.

  Deasylva has never spoken of any of this to me.

  I’ve always thought she’s trying to hide something.

  For once, Luteis didn’t defend her.

  The wind caught Sanna’s hair as they flew over Letum Wood, heading directly west. The refreshing, cool air roused her thoughts, clearing her head. Sanna sank into the silence, grateful Luteis seemed as tentative as she. Jesse and Elis also ventured no words. Deep grooves of concentration lined Jesse’s forehead. Tashi flew ahead of them and slightly higher, her hair flapping behind her like banners.

  By dawn, they reached the edge of the forest. Sanna sucked in a sharp breath. Ahead of them sprawled nothing but desert and sand as far as she could see. Only the whip of the wind and the unbroken silence below rang in Sanna’s ears. She met Jesse’s gaze, but his eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts. By the time morning broke on the distant horizon, Letum Wood lay too far behind to see. Still, Sanna kept searching for it.

  Tashi pulled on the rope around Tenzin’s back. He slowed, banking alongside Elis, whose head drooped dangerously low. Elis lifted it again, eyes flashing, but it soon began to droop again.

  “Do you need a break?” Tashi called.

  “Yes,” Jesse said. “He’s new to flying. This is too much for him.”

  Surprise registered in Tashi’s eyes.

  “Is he young?”

  “Seventy-five.”

  Tashi blinked. “We’ve been flying less than six hours. He cannot maintain?”

  Jesse’s shoulders straightened, and his nostrils flared. “He’s only been flying for four weeks. This has been monumental for him.”

  “Four weeks? You jest.”

  “A break,” Sanna called. “When can we have one for him?”

  Tashi pointed ahead.

  “There’s an oasis not far away. We’ll stop there for a short rest. Tenzin’s getting restless. I think a storm is coming, so we can’t stop long.”

  Tashi nodded once, to a vague spot Sanna couldn’t see in the distance. Sanna nodded while Luteis spoke to Elis.

  Can he make it? Sanna asked Luteis.

  He will try.

  Elis’s wings beat with determined ferocity. Even if he could make it to the oasis, what would they do during the storm? Sanna kept her thoughts to herself but exchanged a concerned glance with Jesse. Whatever they had to fly in or through, Luteis could likely manage. His wings were broader and longer than Tenzin’s, with one wingbeat for Tenzin’s three—but he couldn’t carry Elis. And one short reprieve wouldn’t restore Elis’s strength.

  The edge of something emerald glimmered not far away. Though it was only early morning, the heat would be intense once they dropped below the clouds. Waves of heat shimmered on the ground.

  Tashi ordered Tenzin lower. Elis gulped the air greedily as they dropped, which seemed to restore some of his vitality. Before Sanna knew it, they had reached the ground. Elis collapsed, shuddering as he pressed his body into the sand with a limp thud.

  Tashi pointed to a grouping of scraggly bushes along the ground. “Water is over here.”

  Clumps of greenish-yellow fronds sprouted in a wild array that gave shade to the sand and leafy undergrowth. The smell of water thickened the air. Luteis nudged Elis, who struggled through the sand toward a small pond hidden in the thick cluster of leaves. Without the wind, sweat ringed Sanna’s armpits almost immediately. Luteis motioned her to the water.

  “No,” she said. “You, Elis, and Tenzin first.”

  Tashi listened, eyes narrowed.

  Sanna ignored her, allowing the dragons to drink first. Then she splashed herself with the water and drank deeply from cupped hands. It tasted brackish and mossy, but the liquid restored her parched throat. Jesse dropped to his knees and dunked his head into the pool.

  After drinking, Tashi peered to the west with a frown. “We’ll rest an hour; then we must leave.”

  “Elis won’t be able to fly again that soon.”

  Elis lay with his eyes closed near the edge of the small lake. His wings drooped limp on the sand, twitching, a testament to his already-deep sleep.

  “It’s another eighteen hours of flight,” Tashi said. “There are two more oases we can stop at for breaks, but the next one is ten hours away.”

  “Then Elis needs a long break.”

  Tenzin lifted his snout toward the west, then shrieked. His scales stood straight up along the ridge on his back. Sanna followed his gaze. A smudge clouded the distant horizon. Was that a brown cloud? With nothing to obscure the sky, she felt open. Exposed.

  Such an unnerving, barren place.

  “Storms are fine,” Sanna said. “The water will be good for them.”

  Tashi’s gaze darkened. “This is no forest storm. If Elis needs a long break, then a long break he shall get. It’s time to drink your fill and then prepare. The storm will be here within the hour.”

  Sanna frowned. “But there are no clouds.”

  Tashi looked at Luteis, who watched her with his glittering, intelligent eyes.

  This is no ordinary storm, he said. I can smell it. It’s changing the air.

  “If you have a covering of any kind, now is the time to get it ready.” Tashi reached for Tenzin. “The sand is almost here.”

  The storm descended exactly as Tashi predicted.

  It grew on the horizon like a living thing, filling everything in sight and howling with a deep burr that rattled Sanna’s teeth. Brushes of wind flapped at her hair only minutes before the sandy wrath descended with full strength.

  Luteis lay on the ground near the oasis and spread his wings wide, enfolding Sanna, Tashi, and Tenzin. He coiled his neck and tucked his head inside the circle. Sanna briefly caught a glimpse of Jesse’s bright eyes before he disappeared in a cocoon of Elis’s making. Seconds later, the entire world became a gritty blur.

  Sand infused the air, filling Sanna’s nose, mouth, and lungs with its tenacious grit. Luteis’s wings held off the buffeting wind, but sand skittered underneath in piles.

  Does the sand hurt your scales? she asked, pulling her knees into her chest and leaning into his foreleg. The scales were smooth and warm, but the air soon felt stifling hot. Tashi and Tenzin gave no complaint—they were no doubt used to heat far worse than this—but sweat rolled down Tashi’s face.

  No. But it is not very comfortable. Like someone scratching too hard. Already it begins to weigh on my wings.

  Sweat trickled down her back. At first, they sat in the silence, unable to hear over the wild, portentious winds. Sanna thought she
heard a scream every now and then. A wild, horrific sound.

  Thank you for shielding me.

  He nudged her with his nose. We should have tried to fly above it. You will have to ask Tashi if it’s possible.

  If it’s this wild, it may be a very high storm.

  I have flown above thunderstorms before.

  Elis couldn’t have made it.

  Perhaps not.

  The thought sent a shiver through Sanna. Streaking lightning. Booming thunder. How much louder would it be if she were flying through the thick of it? She drew her arms tighter around her legs, cognizant of just how far from home they’d come. Tashi curled in a ball in the very center of the circle and closed her eyes. Tenzin stared at them, yellow eyes slitted. His gaze never wavered, not even to sleep.

  Do you think we made a mistake following Tashi? Sanna asked. What if she’s lying? Perhaps she’s taking us away from Letum Wood for other reasons.

  I thought of this myself.

  And?

  Why would she have this other dragon? What could her motivation be?

  Sanna sank into this question with relief, grateful to have something to chew on that stifled her fear of the howling storm.

  I can only think that she works for poachers and is going to attack the rest of the brood, Sanna said.

  That would certainly be possible without taking us away from Letum Wood.

  Sanna thought of Daid. It wasn’t Daid’s fault that a mountain-dragon spy had descended at the wrong time. And why did she bear the burden of his loss? Her mind wandered to Isadora.

  She turned that thought away, throat aching.

  It could mean the downfall of your race, if Tashi and Tenzin do have nefarious plans, she said. I think we shouldn’t trust too easily.

  He said nothing but seemed to fall into a deeper, brooding silence. Sanna thought of Cara and the hatchlings and hoped they were safe. Briefly, she thought of Mam. Then, with Daid on her mind, she slipped into a restless sleep filled with dreams of witches screaming and dragons plummeting from the sky.

  Chapter Eleven

  In Isadora’s new room, a round, old table stood against one wall, near a narrow cot she presumed to be a bed.

  The walls were white, bare, and riddled with holes along the bottom. A suspicious scuttling echoed in the inner walls—she hoped it wasn’t some form of island rat. Her door opened to an uninterrupted view of the ocean and the stormy sky beyond, which helped.

  Overall, she had little more space than a closet.

  On the floor stood an oak chest. Isadora pried open the heavy lid to find clothes inside. Marguerite’s, no doubt. Most were made of light linen, perfect for such a mild climate. They were several sizes too large, but she could fix one or two with a tailoring incantation Pearl had taught her.

  No magic, Fiona had said.

  Or not.

  Isadora sank onto the bed, lost in the silence. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d lived without magic—but now that she’d gotten used to it, curbing her use would be difficult. Only the occasional, high-pitched shriek of an aquila outside interrupted the eerie quiet. Two of the giant predators soared in a strange, circular dance, changing size and color with every spin. Foamy clouds had moved in overhead, then floated on toward the horizon.

  For a long time, she fell into thought, eyes on the distant, churning sky. Amidst all her questions—and intense fears—she thought of Sanna.

  What was she doing?

  What would she think of the ocean?

  Hate it, probably. Isadora had gotten used to the openness of life outside the trees since moving to Pearl’s, but this felt different. A pang of sadness for her sister struck her. How small Sanna’s life must feel without wild adventures in distant places.

  “What in the good gods happened?”

  Isadora shot to her feet, eyes wide. Maximillion stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind him. His hair stood straight up, as if the wind had slapped him from both sides at once. Her heart skipped a beat—so Sera had told him after all. His glacial eyes burned with chilling fury.

  Now he’d kill her.

  He stalked into the room. She lifted her hands. “Wait!”

  He grabbed her arm, wrenched her away from the window, and shut her door at the same moment. “What happened?”

  “I have the exact same question.”

  His hand gripped her arm above the elbow. His nostrils flared. “Now is not the time for your clever games. Tell me why you’re here.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “Clearly.”

  Isadora backed up a step. He pressed his lips into a thin line and drew in a breath. He calmed, but flames still flickered in his cold eyes. “Explain yourself.”

  Isadora related the events in full, starting with Sera appearing in his office and ending with Fiona leaving her in the lavanda. For a long time, Maximillion said nothing, staring hard at the ground with a hand over his mouth.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said.

  “But it did. Why didn’t Marguerite show?”

  “Sick. Not sure what it is. I found her in her house when Sera came to tell me what had happened. By then, you were long gone.”

  Isadora sank back onto the edge of her narrow cot.

  “Oh.”

  He stepped toward her. “Come. You’re going back home.”

  “But—”

  “You are not staying here where you are going to get yourself—and possibly others, including me—killed.”

  Emotions flooded her. Relief, for one. Confusion—even annoyance—for another. Sure, she didn’t want to live in the lair of her greatest enemy … but she didn’t want to leave Lucey, either. Maximillion had made it seem like this was their best option when Marguerite was prepared to come here. That wouldn’t have changed.

  Isadora pulled her shoulders back. “No.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not leaving. I’m here. I’ve already met Fiona and received my room. I want to stay and help Lucey.”

  “You’re not competent.”

  “I can be.”

  “You are the worst witch for this job. Your execution of the language is passable, at best. You have no experience as a spy. Not to mention your lack of knowledge of how to work your own magic.”

  “I can work my magic!”

  “You know it so well, do you?” he snapped. “Why do you see in a forest? Why is there no darkness? Why can you not see Lucey now? What limits do your powers have?”

  Her reply stalled. Functionally, she could do the magic, but she didn’t understand its depths, nor its purpose. Isadora scowled. Not that he had any room to brag about understanding the purpose of their magic!

  Livid, she put her fists on her hips.

  “I can do this!”

  “You want to stay, do you? You think you’re so ready?”

  He said something in perfect Ilese, speaking so fast she only caught a word or two. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have said he had grown up here. Fury bubbled under her skin. Of course, Maximillion would only see what she couldn’t do. She couldn’t even protest the unfairness, because he’d throw that in her face, too.

  No, she’d have to take an entirely different tack.

  “You’ve already half-poisoned a witch to death,” she said.

  “We did her a favor. There’s no joy in being the lavanda maid. Besides, she did half the job herself. Her sickness wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t drink so much wine.”

  “If you pull me out now, you’re going to draw suspicion.”

  “You think that debacle at the dock didn’t already? The Defenders will be investigating you. Cecelia won’t let just anyone on this island.”

  “What will they find? That I grew up in Letum Wood as a forester? That I live in a small town with a sweet old lady who’s obsessed with coffee?”

  “They’ll find out I mentor you.”

  “How? You’ve never told anyone. Only my family and Pearl know. Y
ou always make me go to elaborate means to avoid being seen near your office.”

  For another breathless moment, he said nothing. Isadora wondered if she’d actually been able to silence his qualms.

  “Besides, what East Guard—or Defender—will travel deep enough into Letum Wood to research me? Far enough to find out about the dragons? None of them. Their own superstitions prevent it. Besides, they’d never be able to talk to my family. Luteis wouldn’t allow it.”

  He turned away, driving a hand through his hair. “This is madness.”

  “Perhaps it’s fate.”

  “Fate isn’t real, you ingrate. How am I supposed to justify sending you into this?”

  “You’ve never justified anything.”

  “That’s beside the point,” Maximillion snapped.

  “Is it?”

  He shot her a sharp glance. His mouth open, then closed. He turned away with a growl. Being on La Torra, though terrifying, seemed better than spinning in circles at home, hoping Lucey didn’t die a horrid death. Besides, how could she turn away so much ocean and sky?

  He paced the small room. Surely, he could see the bitter truth. This was the only way to save Lucey. He stopped. His eyes had hardened into discs of ocean-blue flint. He drew himself up, chin tilted back.

  “Fine. You want a chance to prove yourself? Take it.”

  She quelled her rush of excitement—and terror. The good gods. She hadn’t thought he’d actually acquiesce.

  “There are rules. One: you’re not to use your powers. Ever. Magic only if it’s absolutely required to preserve your life.”

  “You used magic to come here.”

  “But not on La Torra.”

  “Then how did you get here?”

  “That’s no business of yours. Besides, I can afford a little risk because I’m not living here and Cecelia knows what I am. You can’t.”

  How in the name of the good gods could he be here without having used magic on the island? A thousand questions rushed to the tip of her tongue, but she forced them back.

  “Of course not.”

  “No magic. Not even a breath of it. Not a hint. Cecelia is rigidly strict about it.”