Dragon Slayers

by Lisa McMann

  Rohan didn’t turn. “The Revinir instructed me not to drink anything you give me,” he said in a mechanical voice.

  Thisbe paled. “What?” She hadn’t anticipated that. “Well, I’m telling you to drink this anyway. You—you work for me.”

  “I cannot.” Rohan didn’t move to take it. Then his face relaxed. “Aw, I’m just messing with you. Be smarter? Really?”

  Thisbe’s face exploded. “This is not a good time for jokes!” she hissed.

  Rohan shrugged and shot her a half grin. “Sorry.” He took the broth and gulped it down. Then he steadied himself as the wave of images tore through his mind. “Blech.” He held out his hand for another.

  “Take all of these.” Thisbe gave him three more, still shaking her head at his shenanigans. “I need to find a dress or something,” she said. “Did you hear what’s happening?”

  “I heard the announcement. What are you going to do when you declare your partnership and nothing happens?” He chugged the next vial.

  Thisbe hesitated to answer. She’d been so programmed not to tell anyone anything that she was still wary about putting Rohan in danger. But he was in the know whether she wanted him to be or not. And he was downing ancestor broth like a happy little cannibal. So he was protected. Finally she said, “I’m going to be exactly as surprised as she is. And then I’m going to demand we find out what went wrong.”

  “So you’re admitting my theory is correct?” Rohan said, stopping his vial sipping for a moment to look at her. “I still haven’t heard your answer.”

  Thisbe paused in the closet. She turned her head, conceding everything in one look. “Yes, Rohan. And… I’m so sorry. I’ll explain more later if you like.” What she didn’t tell him was that there was still a conflicted part of her that was enjoying this time she was spending with the Revinir.

  Rohan took in a breath and closed his weary eyes for a moment. “Thank the gods,” he murmured. Then he went back to finishing his next vial.

  Thisbe felt a great weight lift off her heart, but she still felt the urgency of getting ready for the announcement. She ripped through a bunch of dusty clothes in the closet, most of them looking like they might actually fit, which was curious. She searched for something suitable for a leader that wasn’t too ugly or frilly. Then she happened on a charcoal-gray uniform that had only a few small moth-eaten holes in it. She took it out and looked at it. It was like Maiven’s. Could these clothes belong to her grandmother? Being consumed by moths up here while Maiven was wasting away in the dungeon? There wasn’t time to speculate further.

  “This,” she said, and hoped it would fit. She ran with it into her washroom and slammed the door behind her, then tried it on over her component vest. When she looked in the mirror, she took in a breath. She looked so much like Maiven. She hadn’t noticed the resemblance before. But now, with the same suit on and a similar cap perched on her head, it was more than clear that the two were related. Tears sprang to Thisbe’s eyes. She felt like she was betraying everything that Maiven stood for by doing such a terrible deed while wearing the uniform of a black-eyed warrior. “Please forgive me,” Thisbe whispered.

  “Is it a good fit?” came Rohan’s voice through the door.

  Thisbe blew out a breath and adjusted the jacket, then smoothed her hand over the moth-nibbled area on the lapel. “It’s perfect,” she said. She opened the door.

  Rohan, holding four empty vials, nearly dropped them. “My, you do resemble her, don’t you?”

  “I was thinking that.”

  “You look very smart,” he said quietly. “I believe… if Maiven knew what you were doing to save us, she would feel very good about this.”

  “Do you really think so?” Thisbe asked. She turned to him.

  They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, all of the angst between them being shoved aside. Rohan swallowed hard, his eyes brimming. Then he slipped his fingers along Thisbe’s cheek, slid them into her hair, and pulled her close. Thisbe’s eyes closed, and their lips met and moved together. When the two broke apart, Thisbe wrapped her arms around Rohan’s neck and held him. “I’m so sorry for hurting you,” she whispered in his ear. “And I’m so glad you figured it out, or I might have died.”

  “Thisbe,” said Rohan, overcome. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her. “That was the most horrible time of my life,” he confessed. “But I’m grateful you were willing to sacrifice everything for the land of the dragons. For us. For our future.”

  “Next time, we do this together,” said Thisbe.

  Rohan nodded, though he said, “I hope there aren’t any more next times.”

  Reluctantly they broke apart. Thisbe straightened her suit and tidied her hair once more. “You’re coming with me now, right? You’ll be there with me?”

  “I’ll be right by your side.”

  “But,” warned Thisbe, “if you see me reach inside my jacket and pull out a tiny box, I want you to run away from the Revinir like you’ve never run before.”

  On the Move

  A team of ghost dragons, with Carina aboard to remind them where they were going, began their journey to Artimé to collect the rest of the army of fighters. Maiven, Aaron, and the remaining team members from Artimé prepared to head for Ashguard’s palace to bust up some dragons. Aaron sent Fifer a note letting her know they were on the way to attempt to free her so they could be ready to fight the Revinir and stop everything that was happening.

  That wasn’t the only note Fifer received. As she and Dev finished lunch in the library, another send spell arrived. Fifer read it, then looked at Dev. “Finally! It’s from Thisbe. She’s okay. And she says we need to get ready to go and call the others in. Good thing they’re already coming. But I’m worried about the dragons attacking them.”

  Fifer studied Thisbe’s note again, then looked up at Dev. His black eyes bored into her, not angrily but soft around the edges, making her catch her breath. A strange feeling swept through her, something she’d never felt before. She wasn’t sure if it was uneasiness or just a bad fish for dinner, but whatever it was made her feel weird.

  Dev realized he was staring and dropped his gaze. “We have a big job to do, I guess,” he said. Then, softer: “I’m sorry I was staring at you.”

  Fifer wasn’t sure what to make of the strange feelings she was having lately. “It’s fine,” she said. She smiled in a friendly way to let him know she wasn’t bothered by him staring. And then she started to think they were making way too big a deal out of all of this when they had dragons to slay.

  Dev got up quickly and cleaned up the remains of dinner. Then the two sat together in front of the fireplace to go over their plans. Dev checked over his three finished long spears, adding a bit of melted tin to make the spear points sharper and sturdier, and hoped the magic Fifer instilled in them would help things out.

  Fifer reread the instructions for the obliterate spell to make sure she absolutely knew how to use it. Now they just needed the dragons to take their places in the middle of the night. By the time Maiven and Aaron and the rest of them arrived, hopefully the dragons would be taken care of and Florence would be up and moving around like old times.

  As Fifer was folding the instructions and Dev was getting up to put his spears by the staircase for later, Dev glanced outside the south window. There was something moving in the orchard, bigger than the foxes.

  He went to the window. “Fifer!” he said, and beckoned her to join him. “Come look.” There was a herd of deer picking its way among the apple trees. A sight hardly ever seen outside of the forest. “They must have heard about all the fruit on the ground out here,” Dev said jokingly, then pointed them out to Fifer. The animals were moving slowly past the boundary to the bright green grass, near where the pieces of Florence lay.

  “They’re beautiful,” said Fifer, who’d never seen a deer before, much less several of them together. “Look at how they step so carefully. And that little one, tilting its head!”

 
Dev was looking at Fifer and the joy on her face. But then his gaze moved beyond her through the window, and he saw a spot of red. A really, really big spot of red. Heading from the front of the property straight for the deer. Dev turned and glanced at the back of the property and saw the dragon at the back coming too. “Oh no,” he said softly. “You might not want to watch this.”

  But Fifer caught sight of them as well. “Yikes,” she said, looking away and turning toward Dev. Their faces were inches apart. And for some reason, the thought of kissing someone Fifer had become such close friends with didn’t seem quite as weird as it had felt before. But this was not the right time for thoughts like that. Because the two red dragons were standing really close together, paying attention to something that wasn’t them. “Grab your spears, Dev,” said Fifer. “It’s time to go.”

  Danger, Danger

  The two friends ran for the stairs. Dev grabbed his long spears, and on the way down, Fifer pulled the obliterate spell from her vest. She held it tightly until she had a moment to pause at the bottom of the steps to open the little box. While she did so, the dragons rushed in to devour the herd of deer. Fifer cringed, trying not to listen to the sounds the deer made. She removed the innocuous-looking pebble from its safety box and pinched it between her fingers. “Stay behind me,” she told Dev.

  Dev nodded. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” They moved toward the action.

  The dragons were enjoying their rare feast. Fifer rolled the pebble between her thumb and forefinger, trying to get a sense of its weight and power. Trying to decide where to place it. Should she aim between the dragons? Or closer to one to ensure eliminating at least one of them? She decided on that. “Be ready to run for the library if I mess this up,” Fifer said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “You don’t worry about me,” Dev said, more defiantly than he’d intended. But he didn’t exactly like Fifer telling him to run and hide if he didn’t feel like doing that. Or if he felt like sticking by her… just in case. He kept moving and hid his eyes from the deer carnage.

  Fifer crept forward, concentrating. She kept her eye on the nearest dragon, who was fully invested in its meal. Then, signaling Dev, she stood up straight, took aim, and threw the pebble straight and true at the near dragon’s head. “Obliterate!” she cried.

  The pebble found its mark. It detonated, throwing Fifer and Dev backward as if they were rag dolls. The palace and the grounds shook. Fifer rolled to a stop and twisted to get back to a standing position. Dev scrambled up too, and both of them peered at the scene, half-deaf from the explosion and unable to see anything because of the smoke. When the air cleared enough for them to see, one red dragon lay motionless and headless on the ground. The other was roaring and squirming on its back, trying to get to its feet.

  “Oh crud,” whispered Fifer. “Cover me! Don’t attack unless you have to,” she shouted to Dev, and ran over to Florence.

  Dev grabbed his spears and stood in front of Fifer, waiting for the second dragon. They weren’t about to stop fighting now, but he only had three spears, and he had to be smart.

  Fifer laid her hands on the statue’s leg that was in line with the rest of the body. She spoke the words Aaron had told her to say. “Be alive. Live.” Over and over again she said it at each of the breaks, going as quickly as she possibly could. The pieces of Florence’s body melded together.

  The remaining red dragon slowly recovered, and he got to his feet. Dev recognized it as the one that had burned his back so terribly. He stayed near Fifer, one spear in hand and the other two on the ground at his feet.

  The dragon started toward them.

  Fifer moved at a feverish pace, putting Florence’s pieces back together.

  Dev focused on the dragon like Fifer had told him to do. When it got within spear-throwing range, he hoisted the spear and gripped it loosely in his hand, and concentrated on his task, which hopefully would ignite the magic part of the spear. Then he ran at the beast, getting as close as he dared, and let the spear fly.

  It found its mark, burying itself inside the left nostril of the dragon. Dev’s mouth dropped open. He’d nailed the beast right where he’d intended to. Dev’s strength couldn’t land it deep enough to prove fatal, but it did make the dragon furious. The ferocious enemy roared and spewed fire in a long arc in front of him, singeing Fifer and nearly hitting Dev, but the young man was too quick this time. With fire percolating in his throat—inadequate against these monsters as it was—Dev raced back for his second spear. “Hurry!” he cried to Fifer. “The dragon is advancing! I can’t throw hard enough to lodge it deeply!”

  “You’re doing great!” Fifer shouted to him. “Don’t get hurt!” She turned back to Florence and continued her process. “Be alive!” she said desperately. “Live!” She moved on to the next section. And the next. In a race against time, she felt like she was losing. She looked up and saw the red dragon with two spears sticking out of its nostril and Dev diving for cover as the dragon advanced with fire spraying everywhere, igniting part of the orchard and the spiderweb-covered garden. “Be alive! Live!” Fifer went on, as sobs started to break through. “Be alive! Live!”

  Fifer looked up and saw the dragon pressing forward. “Dev, run! Hide in the library!” Then she went back to Florence with the last few pieces of her neck and her head. Each time she said the words, the cracks would fuse together. And when the warrior trainer’s split head was finally fused, her body came to life. Florence’s eyes opened.

  “Florence,” Fifer said intensely, leaning over the startled statue, “I need you to nock an arrow and shoot that dragon up its nostril right now.”

  Florence, having no idea what had happened, sat up. “Where’s my leg?” she said.

  “Do it, Florence! Just roll over and do it from sitting if you can. Hurry!” She looked at Dev. “Look out, Dev!”

  Florence reached for the bow that Fifer had placed near her and grabbed an arrow. She wore a pained look on her face. She nocked the arrow, twisted her hips, and took the shot. It hit the dragon’s neck, lodging between the scales, but it didn’t go deep enough to stop the attack.

  “One more, please!” Fifer commanded. The dragon lunged for them. Dev scrambled for his third long spear.

  Florence pulled another arrow out and aimed as the dragon’s face was looming large. The arrow found its mark and sank deep into the nostril. The dragon roared. His tail whipped around like a rope. It caught Fifer’s legs, and he threw her high into the air. With a strangled shout, Fifer went sailing and landed with a thud fifty feet away.

  “Nooo!” shouted Dev. He ran at the beast as it began to stumble and threw the third spear, but overshot in his haste. When its face neared the earth, Dev leaped over flames and grabbed one of the spears sticking out of its nostril. He heaved and shoved it as hard as he could into the dragon’s brain. He did the same with the other spear.

  Finally the beast’s eyes rolled back. He slumped, and his giant head flopped down on top of Dev, trapping him. Dev screamed, then went silent.

  Florence had no context for what was happening, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She dragged herself over to the dying dragon and shot one more arrow up its nostril, quickly ending its life. Then, biceps bulging, she shoved its head to one side and pulled Dev out. She dragged herself and the strange boy to the courtyard and laid him under the protection of the center tower stairs. Then she went to get Fifer.

  Fifer wasn’t moving. She looked… flattened. Some of her skin was blistered with burns. Florence picked her up gently and cradled her in her arms. “Fifer,” she said gently. “Fifer, you did it. Please wake up.”

  But Fifer didn’t wake up. Florence scooted along the ground to the palace, avoiding the small fires that smoldered everywhere, or putting them out with her stony backside. She kept her eye on the dragons, but both now appeared deader than dead, just like the first two she’d killed with her arrows. How much time had gone by since that disaster?

  Florence didn’t hav
e a clue. She only knew that she’d fallen a long way and had hit the ground. And now she was missing a leg. Was that fall an hour ago? A week ago? A year? She had no idea. She only knew that Dev had been crushed and Fifer was unresponsive in her arms. But as long as Florence was alive and moving, that meant Fifer was alive too. And that knowledge was all the strength she needed to sort things out on her own at this dilapidated palace.

  The Partnership

  Thisbe took a seat in a small carriage, pulled by a horse. The Revinir walked next to her on the left. Rohan, who still hadn’t slept, trotted along on the right side of the carriage, available to Thisbe for whatever she might need. And the rest of the Revinir’s company surrounded them, front, back, and on all sides. There was no possible chance to obliterate the Revinir without taking many casualties with her.

  Thisbe was going to end the Revinir’s reign today. But she wanted to get the Revinir alone.

  Okay, part of her wanted that. But, to be honest, another part of Thisbe wanted to never have to use this obliterate component against the Revinir at all. It was… complicated.

  It’s not because the dragon-woman deserved anything. She had done terrible things to the black-eyed children. To all of Grimere. She’d put hundreds of innocent soldiers under her mind control, as well as dragons from all the lands far and wide. She’d caused tremendous injury to Thisbe and Rohan and Dev, and all of their fellow future rulers. If she’d known Maiven Taveer still lived? She’d have buried her. There was no question in Thisbe’s mind.

  But.

  The Revinir had just started to reveal herself in some convoluted way. And she wasn’t 100 percent evil. Just like Thisbe. Or Dev. Or Rohan. Or Aaron. Or any of them. She had a mix of evil and good in her. And while the good bit was probably tiny, it still made her extremely complex. After Thisbe had taken a turn as a perceived supervillain and had witnessed a little of the wrath that came with that, she’d developed a slightly more forgiving attitude.