The Lost Lands

by Jessica Khoury

  “Tam?” Mirra put out her hand, her eyes full of concern. “Are you—”

  “Don’t touch me!” Tamra snapped.

  She wrenched away and pelted into the fortress. Behind her, she heard the Raptors begin to roar, taking up the chant led by D’Mara.

  “Val-kea! Val-kea! Val-kea!”

  Fortress Lennix.

  There it was.

  The last place Joss had ever wanted to see again. It clung to its mountain with the long lip of the landing yard extending outward in dark greeting. Joss set his jaw and glared at it, wishing the whole thing would just break off and tumble into some abyss, never to be seen again.

  Second thoughts? asked Lysander.

  Of course not. Let’s go save Sammi.

  But despite this bold statement, Joss’s stomach sank lower the nearer they got to the fortress. There appeared to be some kind of ceremony happening. He heard roars and saw plumes of flame long before they reached the runway.

  Lysander …

  Yes, Joss?

  Thank you.

  For what?

  For being my best friend and my Lock. For changing my life. No matter what happens next, I wouldn’t change a thing.

  Joss, this isn’t the end. We will not let them beat us.

  Yeah, of course. But Joss couldn’t even convince himself of that. They were surrendering to Raptors, after all. He didn’t think mercy was in their vocabulary.

  When Joss heard the blast of the Lennix signal horn, he knew they’d been spotted. The noise in the yard faded as all eyes turned on them.

  Lysander landed gracefully on the runway, then shook out his wings before folding them. Then he stalked into the yard, his neck arched proudly, as if he were a king returning to his own castle and not a renegade turning himself over to the enemy.

  Too bad you haven’t had your dragonfire sleep yet, Lysander. Then we could really show up in style.

  Yes, replied Lysander sadly.

  It was as if they’d all gathered just to witness the surrender. Every Lennix was there except Declan and, interestingly, Tamra, and almost every Raptor too. Valkea and D’Mara stood at the forefront of the throng, gloating.

  “D’Mara Lennix!” Joss called out, trying to sound as proud and strong as Lysander looked. “We demand you safely release the Green hatchling Sammi! In return Lysander and I will submit to you.”

  The Raptors hissed and yowled, scraping their claws on the stone in a terrible frenzied show of triumph. Then D’Mara raised her hand, and they fell silent.

  “Joshua Moran,” she said coolly. “And the Silver Lysander. I accept your surrender. The Green will be released at once, as promised. Mirra!”

  The girl jumped at the mention of her name, as if surprised to hear it. Then she nodded and scurried away to find Sammi. Joss felt a small sense of relief; he’d worried D’Mara wouldn’t hold up her end of the deal.

  “As for these two,” said D’Mara, eyeing the Silver and Joss, “put them in separate cells below.”

  Well, at least it’s not immediate execution, Joss sent Lysander grimly.

  I’m sure they’re preparing the finest cells for us, Lysander joked.

  Oh, yes, with nice warm porridge and fluffy pillows.

  But it was only gallows humor, and it did little to lift Joss’s spirit. He slid down and held out his arms as Edward Lennix approached with a pair of manacles.

  “You should never have run away in the first place, boy,” Edward grumbled. Unlike the rest of them, he seemed disgruntled. “D’Mara always gets what she wants, and the rest of us might as well just give it to her. It’s easier in the long run.”

  Joss thought he might be talking about something completely different but had no idea what it could be.

  I sure did miss this place, Joss said to Lysander as they were locked in opposite cells.

  The damp does do wonders for my scales. And the smell! Like dirt and pee and mold. Yum.

  Joss managed a glum little laugh. At least Sammi was free—they’d passed her on the way down. She’d been squirming and snapping at Mirra’s heels, pulled along on a little chain leash. At the sight of Joss and Lysander, she’d stopped dead and stared, before Mirra had yanked her along.

  Joss sat on a pile of old, moldy hay and wrapped his arms around his knees. He watched Lysander circling his cell and thought of Sirin and Allie. They should have been well on the way to finding the Heart by now. He wished he were with them, seeing more wonderful things in the Lost Lands. Eating fish and chips, riding buses, shopping for brightly colored footwear.

  Joss smiled at his neon-yellow sneakers. At least he still had those.

  “Hey, sheep boy,” said a taunting voice.

  Joss groaned. “What it is now, Kaan?”

  Kaan pressed his face against the bars, making sure he was standing well out of range of Lysander. “Your shoes. I want them.”

  Of course he did. He’d probably threaten to do something horrid like poke out Joss’s eyes or make him eat sheep dung if he didn’t comply. So he simply sighed and removed his beloved sneakers, then threw them at Kaan. To his satisfaction, one smacked the boy right in the face.

  “Idiot,” Kaan hissed. He pulled off his own boots and put on the sneakers right there, as if to rub it in. Then he walked around, testing their springiness. “Amazing! These are from the Lost Lands, I suppose. Well, soon I will be a prince of the Lost Lands and everyone will have to give me their shoes!”

  “Yes, you’re a real evil genius, Kaan Lennix,” Joss retorted. “Kaan the Terrible, stealer of shoes.”

  “Shut up!” Kaan snapped. “You won’t be so snarky when my ma gets down here. She’s putting together a scale extraction kit as we speak.”

  “A …” Joss glanced in alarm at Lysander, who stared back at him. “But … but we’re here! She has Lysander! He’s way better than a bunch of scales.”

  “Scales don’t tend to bite,” Kaan pointed out. “Or run away.”

  Joss hadn’t even considered D’Mara might try to take Lysander’s scales. After all, his Lock could lead countless Raptors to the Lost Lands for her. But now he saw Kaan’s point—with a scale from Lysander forged onto each Raptor, they wouldn’t have to rely on the Silver at all.

  Lysander!

  It’s all right, Joss. I knew this would happen.

  But why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have agreed—

  If you hadn’t agreed, Sammi might be dead now.

  But—

  They’ll grow back, Joss. Just promise you won’t watch.

  Sickened, Joss clenched the bars of his cell and shook them, but they didn’t budge so much as a centimeter.

  Kaan, watching him, laughed.

  “Oh, oh!” He snickered. “I hear footsteps on the stairs! Must be Mum. Oh, this will be fun. I hope she lets me help. It’ll be like pulling off fingernails.”

  Joss stepped back, covering his mouth in horror.

  Lysander, Lysander, what have I done?

  Allie and Bellacrux were hopelessly lost. Allie turned Sirin’s maps this way and that, trying to figure out where they were meant to go, but in her panic and grief, she’d forgotten the name of the city. Was it Nork City? New Yard City? Nyorka City? Bellacrux flew in a meandering, aimless pattern over a string of islands not far from Loch Ness.

  I believe Sirin said we should go west, Bellacrux told her.

  Are you sure it wasn’t east? Oh, I can’t remember! Joss could already be dead!

  A storm is brewing, Allinson Moran. We must choose a heading soon or be forced to wait out the weather.

  Allie searched desperately by what dim light the moon offered. There were millions of places marked on the maps, and all the countries and islands and roads began to blur in Allie’s eyes. Terror for Joss and anger at Sirin wrestled in her chest until she could hardly breathe.

  We’ll never find it! She shut the atlas and nearly flung it into the sky.

  A peal of thunder suddenly cracked overhead, chased by a thread of white-hot light
ning. Moments later, the rain followed.

  Bellacrux descended, Allie gripping tightly to her as she navigated the worsening storm. The dragon landed on a craggy island that seemed little more than a pile of rocks. It reminded Allie painfully of the place where she, Joss, Sirin, and their Locks had recovered after the Raptors had assaulted the Blue islands. Things had seemed as hopeless then as they had now—only now, it felt much, much worse. Because except for Bellacrux, Allie was alone. No Joss, no Lysander, no Sirin, no Sammi.

  Rain streamed all around, and the wind sent snarling waves crashing over the rocks. Allie and Bellacrux huddled in the very center of the small island, as far away as possible from the sea. Even the dragon seemed to be shivering from the cold and wet.

  I knew this would happen, Allie sent. I knew that girl couldn’t handle this. This is all her fault!

  Bellacrux grumbled when a particularly violent wave managed to drench her claws.

  Allie sat against her Lock’s side, sheltered a little beneath Bellacrux’s wing. But the relentless rain seeped in anyway. Soon she was as soaked through as if she’d plunged into Thorval’s lake. She wondered if the storm had reached Loch Ness, and if Sirin had also been caught in it. She hoped she had.

  This wouldn’t have happened if Joss and Sirin had listened to me. It’s D’Mara Lennix all over again! Why doesn’t anybody listen to me?

  Bellacrux peered into the dark and said nothing.

  Bell? Bellacrux?

  Angry that her Lock would not back her up, Allie stood and left her wing, to stand with her back to the dragon and her eyes on the sea. Its tossing, angry waves mirrored the state of her soul.

  What’s wrong with you, Bellacrux? Don’t tell me you’re taking her side!

  In a true flight, there are no sides, only one purpose, one spirit, one mind.

  Allie knotted her hands into fists. “Oh, c’mon!” she said aloud. “You can’t expect me to believe dragons never argue.”

  We do. But we are not like you humans, letting an argument fester for days or weeks. We might duel one another, wrestling until a victor is determined and his or her path declared right. But this is not common among the free dragons. It is, of course, common among Raptors.

  Bellacrux let that pointed observation hang in Allie’s mind for a long, uncomfortable minute.

  Then she continued, Besides, we dragons recognize the strength in all our members, even when those strengths are different from our own. We know that in order to survive, we must stay together. Nobody should fly alone, Allinson Moran.

  “I never wanted to fly alone!” Allie yelled to the sky. “That’s the whole point! Me and Joss, Joss and me—that’s how it’s been for years! I made a promise to our parents, Bellacrux, that I would keep him safe. Someone has to be the strong one. And it’s always me! I have to be the tough one, making the hard choices, and sometimes, it makes me look like a monster. But I was right, wasn’t I, about Sirin Sharma? She’s not tough enough, and because of her, Joss is a prisoner again!”

  Again, Bellacrux gave her only silence in reply.

  “Stop that!” Allie cried.

  Stop what?

  “Stop defending her!”

  Did I?

  “Well, you’re not defending me! You’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to agree with me.”

  Bellacrux’s deep laugh rolled through Allie. Little one, I am your Lock, not your groveling servant.

  “Then—then say something! And not some dragony proverb either. Say something real!”

  All right. Bellacrux turned her head slowly to peer at Allie. A flash of lightning sent a shiver of light rippling over her emerald scales. Here’s something: I don’t think you’re really angry at Sirin at all.

  Allie blinked. What?

  I think, Allinson Moran, that you are angry at someone else.

  Allie backed away, nearly tripping over a cleft in the rocks. “I … who?”

  Who do you really blame for Joss leaving?

  Tears began to prick Allie’s eyes, and she wasn’t sure why.

  But a hot, rashy feeling spread through her. She felt sick with it.

  Me. I’m angry at myself.

  Something released in Allie’s chest, and she let out a gasp. Clutching her hands to her heart, she shut her eyes and began to cry.

  I’m scared that it’s my fault I lost Joss, she admitted. Because I wasn’t strong enough or tough enough. Maybe Tamra was right in the library, when she said I was weak for saving her life. If I’d left her behind, maybe the Lennixes would never have figured out how to cross the portals. Joss would be safe. Or if I’d kept better watch on the skies, we wouldn’t have been ambushed. Or if I’d stopped D’Mara from taking Sammi. Or if I’d—

  If, if, if, said Bellacrux. Dragons do not concern themselves with “ifs.” We focus on what is, not what might have been. That is the only way to move forward. That is the only way to find our true strength.

  Allie blinked at her Lock. What do you mean?

  You’ve tried to be strong every minute. Never show weakness, never show fear, because you have to protect Joss. That makes you very brave, Allie. It’s the reason I chose you for my Lock. But even the bravest must accept their limits. And accepting what you cannot change is not weakness, but wisdom, for it reveals what you can change. It reveals the path you must take.

  But how does that help Joss? she asked. Then she said it aloud. “How, Bell? I’m not strong enough to save him. There. I’ve said it. So should I just give up, then?”

  Bellacrux snorted. After all these years, the illogic of humans still continues to surprise me. No, Allie. You don’t give up. You think like a dragon. Where does a dragon’s strength come from?

  “Um … her wings?”

  Bellacrux let out a long, noisy groan.

  Her flight! Allie amended. You’re always talking about strength in the flight.

  Her Lock gave a slow nod. The flight is strength. The flight is survival. The flight is hope.

  Allie shut her eyes. “And … I’ve left a big part of our flight behind.”

  Shame heated her cheeks, but just like Bellacrux had said, Allie began to see the path before her, the one she could take.

  The person she could save.

  “Oh my stars,” Allie breathed. “I’ve made a terrible mess of things, haven’t I?”

  Well, Bellacrux replied, a little.

  “I—I left Sirin all alone on that bank.”

  I might have helped with that part, her Lock reminded her.

  But you know it was me. It was. And I have to go back, Bell. I have to make things right. Allie pulled the sopping atlas from her pocket. Besides, we need Sirin Sharma. We need her badly.

  She does have an eye for maps.

  Even if she didn’t, Allie replied, she’s a part of our flight. And more than strength, survival, or hope … our flight is family.

  As Allie climbed back onto Bellacrux’s back, bracing to face the storm, she whispered, “And family sticks together.”

  Only a fart-breath dweebus would believe in dragons, so it makes sense that you would.”

  “I am not a fart-breath dweebus! You saw them on the TV too!”

  “Oh, sure, it was on TV, so it must be true. I bet you believe in the Loch Ness Monster too, dweebus.”

  Sirin listened to the brother and sister arguing behind her and considered turning around and butting in. The boy, who was Allie’s age, had begun to grate her nerves. The girl, younger than Sirin, seemed near tears at her brother’s relentless torment. Their parents were busy across the street at the information center, loading up on pamphlets about Loch Ness, Urquhart Castle, and who knew what other touristy things. They were clearly American, judging by their accents. Sirin sat at a small outdoor café table, eating a triple-chocolate-fudge-with-sprinkles sundae. It was massive, and she’d been working on it for a while. It didn’t help that she didn’t have much of an appetite.

  Thorval had offered to let her hide out in his hidden caverns for a
s long as she liked, but as appealing as a dragon’s wet, fishy cave sounded, Sirin knew she couldn’t keep running away from her problems.

  She had taken up Thorval’s offer of transport and ridden on the dragon’s spiny back across the loch. He’d left her on the shore within sight of this little town, and she’d waited out the storm beneath a picnic shelter before heading to the diner for breakfast. She’d hung around ever since, trying to decide what to do. If Joss and Lysander returned, hopefully with Sammi, they’d look for her here. Then again, if they … didn’t return (and Sirin shuddered to think what that would mean), she would be faced with a grim alternative: taking a bus to Inverness, and from there, the train to London. Then back to her social worker and a juvenile home and everything she’d hated most about her old life.

  Pushing her ice cream around as it melted into a gooey puddle, Sirin tried to ignore the clenching pain in her chest. It felt as if there were a hook lodged in her ribs, with a string attached to it, and at the other end of the string was Sammi. The farther away she got, the harder the hook pulled.

  Would the pain fade eventually? she wondered. If two Locks were separated long enough, would their bond eventually break? Would she even know when it did?

  With a groan, Sirin pressed her hand to her chest and shut her eyes.

  Sammi? She reached out weakly, already knowing she’d only get silence in reply. Her Lock was far, far beyond her reach.

  Oh, Joss. Save him, please. Then save yourself and Lysander.

  But the longer time stretched without any sign of their return, the more her hopes dimmed that she’d ever seen any of them again. Allie certainly wasn’t coming back. And if Joss didn’t either … Well, then she knew she’d be mourning more lost friends than Sammi.

  “How do you explain all the pictures and videos, then?” the American girl was saying behind her. “It’s all over the news.”

  “You heard Dad, dweebus. It was a prank. Balloons or kites or special effects. Honestly, how are you this stupid?”

  Sirin’s fist tightened around her spoon.

  “Well, I don’t care what you call me,” said the girl. “I believe. I do. And it just makes you mad that you can’t stop me.”