Dragon Slayers

by Lisa McMann

  To all who started reading the Unwanteds series in its early days as fourth graders: Happy high school graduation! Thanks for sticking with me. One more book to go and then we’ll all cry together.

  Total Confusion

  Thisbe and Fifer had been abducted by the Revinir, and Rohan was beginning to panic. Nobody in Artimé seemed to be doing anything about it. He descended the stairs of the mansion to implore the one in charge. “Florence, please help me understand what’s happening,” he said, stopping in front of her in the entryway. The Magical Warrior trainer and Simber, the winged-cheetah statue, exchanged a concerned glance as the young man began pacing, struggling to stay calm. Rohan finally found his words and turned to face them. “Look. It has been days. Why aren’t we going after Thisbe and Fifer? Are we seriously planning to sit here and wait for Fifer to contact us? What if they’re dead?”

  “I’ve told you before,” Florence said firmly. “I understand your concern, and I feel it too. Perhaps even more strongly than you. But we’re going to wait.”

  “And Fiferrr is clearrrly not dead,” said Simber, indicating the mansion still standing and himself still magically enchanted. “We don’t believe that the Rrrevinirrr wants to hurrrt them. Frrrom what Thisbe and Maiven Taveerrr have told me, the Rrrevinirrr wants Thisbe to be an ally. She needs at least one black-eyed rrrulerrr on herrr side to complete the rrrequirrrements of prrroperrr trrransferrral of drrragon leaderrrship.”

  Rohan stopped pacing. “Right.” He thought hard for a moment. “So the Revinir believes she needs a black-eyed human to join forces with her, and because Thisbe is more evil than good, she thinks Thisbe is her ticket,” he said, like it finally made sense to him. “And even though we know the truth—that the dragons have to actually choose their leader, and the Revinir can’t choose herself to be the lead dragon—she doesn’t actually know that. So…” He paused, putting it all together. “She thinks she can convince Thisbe to team up with her—that Thisbe will be tempted enough by the leadership position to go for it.” He shook his head. “Even though that won’t work either, because the black-eyed people need to choose their leader too. And besides, Thisbe would never, ever do something like that.”

  “She’d better not,” Florence muttered. “I trained that girl right. If she does something—”

  “She won’t,” Simber interrupted impatiently. “She’s smarrrt and loyal. Therrre’s no way she’d do that to us.”

  “But what about Fifer?” said Rohan. “She’s way more good than evil. Won’t the Revinir want to do away with her to stop her from influencing Thisbe?”

  “I’ve thought about that, too,” said Simber. “And I think she knows that if she does something to hurrrt Thisbe’s twin, Thisbe will neverrr join herrr side.”

  Florence studied Simber. “That’s actually a comforting thought.”

  “It’s all I can think rrright now to get thrrrough this,” said Simber, and finally the worry lines on his face broke through. He hated being away from his head mage, especially days away. He’d promised once that he’d never let this happen again, yet here they were. Shortly after Thisbe had sent a message calling for help, Fifer, Artimé’s new leader, had sent one telling them all to retreat and wait for further instructions. And he trusted her… almost fully. He cringed. He had no choice but to put his support behind Fifer. She was the head mage—a good one too, unlike Frieda Stubbs—and she’d given an order. Hopefully, they’d know more soon. But if not, this might just drive them all to the brink of madness. It was hard enough to run things in Artimé these days after the civil war. But to do it without the head mage was even harder.

  “The best thing we can do,” said Florence, “is to be stronger than we’ve ever been, and to be in a position to help when the time comes. That means we train harder than ever. We broaden everybody’s abilities. And we need to take every move, every spell, every trick up a notch. That includes broadening our minds. We need to anticipate the Revinir’s moves. She is the most powerful enemy we’ve ever faced, and we need to be smarter than her. I’m not going to sleep until I come up with a way to beat that monster.”

  Simber lifted an eyebrow. “You… neverrr sleep.”

  “It’s just an expression,” Florence said with a snarl. “Intensive training begins first thing in the morning on the lawn. We need everybody present.”

  “Everrrybody who?” asked Simber.

  “Everybody everybody. Not just Artimé this time. I mean everybody.”

  Simber gazed at her. “Ourrr allies, you mean?”

  Florence nodded seriously. “I’ll go alert our friends on Karkinos and see if they can track down Spike and Talon, who are still out searching for Issie’s baby. Send Scarlet and Thatcher to fetch the people of Warbler, and Lani to speak to the people in Quill. Tell Seth to get our friends from the Island of Shipwrecks.” She paused for a breath, then said in her sternest voice, “We will not fail Fifer and Thisbe. We will not let Artimé down, or anyone in the world of the seven islands. Not this time. Not ever again.” She turned to look into Rohan’s eyes. “I’m counting on you to step up now that I’ve lost my two main players.”

  “I will, Commander Florence,” said Rohan.

  With that, Florence left the two standing at the entrance and turned sharply, heading out the door into the evening, marching into the water toward Karkinos.

  Rohan looked at Simber, fear and awe in his eyes. They were calling in everyone the people of Artimé knew. This was a major deal.

  Simber nodded sharply. “You hearrrd herrr. Let’s go.”

  Abandoned

  The Revinir and her team of mind-controlled dragons flew a lot faster than the ghost dragons had, but Fifer and Thisbe weren’t sure they would survive the trip.

  It hadn’t been hard for the girls to figure out that the dragon-woman had been hiding in Artimé’s jungle, waiting for them to take their evening walk. She’d swooped down and snatched them up when they neared the lagoon. The Revinir’s six red water dragons had risen from the sea to assist, but the dragon-woman wouldn’t let the twins go—she dangled them from her claws the entire journey back to the land of the dragons. By the time they crossed over the gorge, the twins were unconscious.

  It worked in the Revinir’s favor. She didn’t want them to be aware of where she was planning to drop them off. She wanted them to be disoriented. Lost and scared. That was the only way to bring them around to her way of thinking. Make them desperate, dangle a carrot, and then they would see her side of things. Break them down and train them back up.

  Once Thisbe was supportive of the Revinir as the ruling dragon of Grimere, then the true power could be transferred, and she would officially be number one in the land of the dragons. Along with Thisbe as the ruling black-eyed human, of course. Unfortunately, the Revinir needed to keep at least one of those black-eyed children around for this purpose, and maybe a backup or two. The rest, she’d come to realize, were disposable.

  And there was no way she was bringing these two back to the castle or the catacombs. Neither place had been a good prison for Thisbe—she’d escaped too many times. But Ashguard’s palace and the deserted wasteland surrounding it were just the decrepit mess of sheer nothingness for miles to make Thisbe and Fifer beg to be rescued. Surround them with dragons to keep them contained, and eventually they’d promise to do anything… even make a pact with the Revinir to rule together.

  The Revinir knew Thisbe had it in her to be evil. The girl had tricked her in the past and was more stubborn than the dragon-woman had expected, but she would come around in time. It was Fifer she was more worried about. That young woman was awash in goodness. She might have to be disposed of once the plan was in place—but not before, or the Revinir might lose Thisbe’s allegiance. It was a tricky a
ffair. The dragons would keep an eye on the girl.

  By the time they soared over the crater lake and the palace ruins were in sight, it was midafternoon.

  “Something was stirring a moment ago,” said one of the red dragons in a monotone voice. “I don’t see it now. It went off toward the orchard.”

  “Probably those foxes, like the last time we were scoping things out,” said the Revinir. “Or some other animal. Deer, perhaps.”

  “Probably.” Drool dripped from the hungry red dragon’s mouth, but he fell silent, and the moment was forgotten.

  The Revinir glanced down at the twins hanging from her grip and noticed they looked half-dead. She didn’t want them to die, but other than that she didn’t have much pity in her, though she did feel a small pang somewhere deep under her scales. She remembered when she was about their age. Young Emma, plotting her revenge against her horrible siblings, Marcus and Justine.

  Just who had the upper hand now? They were dead, their legacies no doubt soon to be forgotten with the passage of time. But the Revinir… Eagala… Emma… She was about to rule an entire world, and these girls were going to help her.

  They circled just above the palace, and the Revinir studied the sagging, rotten roof between the four corner towers and the large center tower. “I wonder if this old roof will hold them or if it’ll give way?” she mused. “What do you think?” she asked one of her companions.

  The dragon eyed it. “It doesn’t seem sturdy.”

  “Good. You four, take your positions,” she called out to the dragons, and four of the six swooped down to land on the ground, one in each corner of the vast property.

  “Don’t kill the black-eyed ones, but don’t let them get away, either,” said the Revinir, circling again above the roof with the remaining two dragons. And then she let go, dropping the unconscious girls onto the rotting palace roof.

  Feeling It

  Thisbe and Fifer hit the roof hard and plunged through it. They struck the top floor of the castle and kept going through that one too. The next floor down was a bit stronger and stopped Fifer, while Thisbe hit a weak spot and went through one more and stopped there.

  The impact woke them both, but by the time they stopped moving, they wished to be unconscious again. It took several minutes of groaning and crying out before they realized where the other one was.

  “Are you okay?” Thisbe called up to Fifer. “I think my ankle is broken.”

  “My entire back is on fire,” said Fifer, “and my left wrist is twice its normal size and turning purple. I can’t move it. Is that bad?”

  “I’d say so,” said Thisbe. She had abrasions and cuts everywhere, and her clothes were torn. Luckily, the soft rotten wood had broken their falls, or they’d be much worse off.

  “There’s a stairwell,” Fifer said, easing over to the hole Thisbe had broken through and looking down into it. “Do you see it? Can you make it over there?”

  “Yeah,” said Thisbe. “I’ll meet you on the steps. Be careful so you don’t break through again. Elongate your body and slide.”

  “Stay in the stairwell—I’ll come down to help you.”

  Using their elbows to pull them along, they each crawled carefully across the sagging floor and made it to the center tower stairwell, which looked solid, as it was made of stone and iron. Fifer got up shakily, then sat again and slid slowly down the steps one at a time to the next level. She found Thisbe, whose ankle was puffing up. “I can’t put any weight on it,” Thisbe said, trying to hold back the tears of pain. “Do you have any of Henry’s medicine?”

  “If it didn’t fall into the sea, I do.” Fifer rummaged through her robe pockets with her uninjured hand, laying out all of her remaining components on the stone step in front of them. It was a pitiful amount. Two send spells. A handful of scatterclips that had snagged the inside of her pocket. And two highlighters. She reached inside her vest and pulled out a thin metal box with a hinged lid. She winced and handed it to Thisbe. “This should have something in it that’ll help with the pain and swelling.”

  Thisbe opened it and studied its contents, then selected the proper capsule containing magical herbs from Henry’s garden. She returned the medical kit to Fifer, then swallowed her pill and washed it down with a swig from her canteen. She held it out to Fifer. “I’m glad we brought water this time,” Thisbe said with a pained smile. The two had fought about canteens not too long ago.

  “I haven’t gone anywhere without one since our first quest,” said Fifer. “I think it’s because I was so traumatized.” She swallowed a capsule too, and then tried standing again by propping herself up against the tower wall. But her back was too sore to let it touch anything. She just wanted to lie down on her stomach and make the pain go away. “Where are we?”

  Thisbe slid next to Fifer. “I have no idea. But this is definitely not any part of the castle that I’ve ever seen.”

  “I don’t think it’s the castle at all,” said Fifer. “The construction is very different. There’s no way we would have fallen through that—the floors are made of stone.”

  Thisbe grimaced and closed her eyes. Every movement elicited waves of pain, and at the moment she didn’t really care where they were. Time would only make their injuries hurt more as their muscles stiffened up. “Being unconscious when we fell probably saved us,” she remarked after a while. “We weren’t tensed up for an impact. But these injuries are going to take some time to heal. I’m worried we’ll starve to death before anything else takes us out. Hopefully, our rescue team will be here soon. They should have been tailing us from a safe distance. Maybe they’ll be able to tell us where we are.”

  Fifer shifted uneasily. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Thisbe that she’d ordered Florence not to come after them. She had a lot she wanted to talk to Thisbe about, but it would land better once Thisbe was feeling less pain. “Let’s allow the medicine to work,” she said, “and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  * * *

  They rested quietly for some time in the stairwell, waiting for the magical herbs to take the pain and swelling down a bit and begin the healing process. After a while Thisbe opened her eyes. She was feeling a little better, and now that the mental fuzziness was wearing off, she had a burning question for Fifer. “Did you speak to me in my mind back when we first got abducted?”

  “You heard it?” said Fifer, lifting her head. “Good! You did it to me first.”

  “I did? How?”

  “I have no idea, but something clicked between us when we were walking along the shore. I felt it. It was electric.”

  “I felt that too,” said Thisbe. “What do you think it means?”

  “Other than we have some mysterious new telepathic ability, I don’t know. I’m thinking it’s similar to how Alex and Aaron used to be able to feel each other’s pain.”

  “They couldn’t actually speak to each other, though, like we did. That’s pretty amazing. We’ll have to try again once we can concentrate.” She looked at Fifer’s wrist. “Your swelling is coming down.”

  “It feels better. How about your ankle?”

  “No longer excruciating. I’m not sure I’ll be walking anytime soon, though.”

  “I should go in search of water and food before it gets dark,” said Fifer. She winced, not wanting to move, but she was desperate to know if the Revinir was lurking about. Why had she dropped them here like this? Was it a mistake? Had her limbs just grown too tired to hold on?

  “We can survive on the water we have until the others get here,” said Thisbe, who also didn’t want to move. “Is this place totally abandoned? Did the Revinir dump us here for a reason, or did something else happen? If she did, why?”

  “Yeah,” said Fifer, growing consternated. “Why didn’t she throw us into the castle dungeon or the catacombs?”

  “Maybe because we know how to escape from those places.”

  “It doesn’t seem too hard to escape from this abandoned dump,” said Fifer. “All we have
to do is make it down the stairs.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  Neither of them could see outside, but Fifer soon grew curious enough to gingerly get to her feet once more. She held her injured wrist close to her chest to keep it from jiggling and went to a window facing east. There she took in the overgrown landscape and spied two of the dragons from their journey standing guard at the front corners of the property. “There are dragons here,” said Fifer. “I can see two of them. The red ones that were with us when the Revinir abducted us.”

  “I’m not surprised. But I’m still not sure where ‘here’ is.”

  Fifer groaned in pain simply from walking but kept going toward another window, facing south. She could see the late-afternoon sun off to her right and determined her bearings from it. “There’s a third dragon at the southwest corner of the property. I’ll bet there’s a fourth one on the northwest.”

  “Not interested in taking that bet,” said Thisbe, knowing Fifer was probably right. She eased up and looked down the spiral stone steps. “How high up are we?”

  “At least a few floors. I’ll go find out. Hand me your canteen, in case I find water.”

  “Don’t go too far,” Thisbe said anxiously. “I’m not sure what those dragons will do.” Reluctantly she held out her canteen.

  Fifer took it and slipped the strap over her head and arm. “They’ve had plenty of chances to kill us, so obviously that’s not on their agenda. And if the Revinir is making them guard us or something, there’s got to be food and water around for them. I’m guessing it can’t be too far to find a source. Besides, Dev taught us that nobody builds a house where there’s no water.” She bit her lip, having forgotten that the Revinir had killed him. “Ugh, sorry,” she whispered. Blinding sorrow gripped her. It was too much to think about, and she was mortified that she’d mentioned him and cracked open more wounds. She started down the stairs, not even able to look at Thisbe, and took one careful step after another.