Rise of the Shadow Dragons Page 21

  He led them to the nearest entrance to the tunnels and held the door open. ‘Where’s your map?’ he asked Conor, taking the time to show him exactly where to go. He didn’t want his mother wandering for ever in the tunnels.

  ‘Wait, why are you showing me?’ Conor asked. ‘Why don’t you just lead the way?’

  Now came the hardest part.

  ‘I’m not coming,’ Joe said. ‘Not yet. Take everyone to safety. Take Fidell to Winter. I need to get Tarya and Vigo out of the palace first.’ He looked away so he didn’t have to see his mother’s expression when he said that.

  He busied himself saying goodbye to Fidell and his friends instead. He and Conor slapped each other awkwardly in a half-hug. Finally, things were back to normal between them.

  ‘I’ll look after them,’ Conor said in his ear. ‘Just keep safe, all right?’

  ‘You be quick, Joe Thornsen,’ Amina said, throwing her arms round them both. ‘Don’t make us lose you again.’ Her eyes were huge and glittery, and when she closed them tightly, a few stray tears squeezed out.

  ‘Hurry!’ Matteo urged them. ‘Josi can’t walk for long – she needs rest.’

  ‘I’ll see you down there,’ Joe said to his mother, who was trying very hard not to cry.

  ‘I know you want to help your sister,’ she told him, ‘but I need you safe. I cannot lose you too. Promise me again – you run when you have to? For your dragon’s sake? And mine?’

  ‘Promise,’ Joe managed to choke out. ‘Now go!’

  He watched them disappear into the tunnels, Conor and Amina leading the way. They made a strange procession, laden with flasks and bags of food, an old man, a limping woman, two children and their dragons, Fidell looking back­wards, torn between staying with Joe and Ren and finding his person.

  The longing to join them and save himself was almost overpowering, but Joe tore his eyes away and focused on his next task. He returned to the Yellow House just long enough for them both to gulp down spring water from the well – somehow still fresh and cool. He felt light-headed and realised he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

  He and Ren were going to need their strength, so he risked the delay to gobble down some stale bread while Ren swal­lowed some dried fish. He stuffed more food in his pockets for later. Then he was running back up the hill to the palace, praying that he would have time to finish the job.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Joe felt like he was walking through a nightmare. The dust from the volcano had reached Arcosi. The morning was hot and still, tinted grey-orange like some endless dusk. The birds had fallen silent, or fled. The watchtowers at the entrance to the palace grounds were deserted, and the huge iron-studded gates hung ajar.

  He slipped through the gates and into the gardens. The ornamental flower gardens were scarred now from the dragonfight earlier that morning. He saw trampled hedges, blackened leaves, branches twisted down like broken limbs. He stuck to the shadows, telling Ren to stay hidden too. He would need her soon.

  He crept as close as he could without breaking cover, crouching under a tree and peering out at the palace for the sign he was hoping for.

  Had Yannic managed his part? Did the Brotherhood suspect him? Joe was gambling they’d be too distracted by their enemy leaving to notice Yannic’s return.

  He looked at the palace, now silent and watchful. Heral and Petra still waited on their desperate vigil. Joe wondered when they had last eaten or drunk anything. They wanted to be close to their imprisoned people, and he knew they’d never leave, even now that danger threatened. He’d never leave Ren like that, either. So for the dragons’ sake, as well as his sister’s, his plan had to work.

  He forced himself to be methodical and took his time searching from west to east, checking every single window, every turret, every annexe, every passageway. He was almost losing hope when he saw it – finally! A tiny square of red and green fabric, the colours Tarya and Vigo always wore to match their dragons, pressed up against a window high in the southern turret. Yannic had done it! He’d managed to discover the exact location where Tarya and Vigo were being held and send a signal.

  As Isak had suggested, something must be blocking the connection between his sister and her dragon. What had he and Winter said? Only a yew barrier or a certain herb could do it? Or Tarya might be dead already, but Joe wasn’t going to consider that.

  Now for his part. ‘Ren?’ he whispered, turning to her and bending close to her long purple ears. ‘I need you to do something for me. I know you’re new to this. I know you’re only young, but I have faith in you.’

  She looked up at him, huge golden eyes unblinking. She tilted her purple head to one side, listening hard. Her long ears twitched as he spoke.

  ‘You’re connected, each dragon to each dragon. You’re all connected.’ Joe remembered Noah’s smugness as he’d thrown that in his face. The dragons knew; they always do. He might be late to this particular lesson, but he would make it count. He focused on Ren again. ‘Tell Heral that Tarya is in that southern turret.’ He focused on it very strongly, the image of the window with the green and red banner showing. ‘Tell him about the western cave. Then tell Petra. All right?’

  Ren closed her eyes. She stood very still. Was it too much? Was she too tired? How would he know if it had worked?

  A strange ripple passed through Ren’s purple body from nose to tail, then she opened her eyes and said proudly, Aark!

  Joe stood staring at the palace, craning his neck, praying Heral and Petra would hear and understand.

  For a moment, nothing happened. What else could he do? Joe was out of ideas and almost out of time. Then Heral launched into the air. He was still the largest of all the drag­ons, bigger even than Thom’s Ruby. The huge red dragon flapped higher and gave a bellow of rage. He lifted, circling up and up, and then suddenly turned in the air and plunged like a hawk, hurtling down, gaining momentum, faster and faster as he levelled out finally.

  Heral braced his head like a battering ram and went smashing, forehead first, into the southern tower, skim­ming the cone of the turret clean off, like the top of a boiled egg, scattering bricks and glass in every direction. A shard whizzed past Joe’s face. He had to jump for cover, hands over his head.

  When he looked up, Heral was swooping low, talons outstretched, lifting something, lifting someone from inside the tower.

  Tarya! Heral gripped her tightly by the shoulders. Joe’s sister had curled her body up, protecting something small in her arms. Then they were gone.

  Petra went in next, the green dragon diving fast and flap­ping hard, retrieving Duke Vigo in her claws.

  Joe stared hard as the dragons carried their people away to safety.

  That left Yannic inside. He’d be like a cat, Joe hoped, and find his own way out.

  ‘You’re amazing. Thank you!’ he told Ren, hugging her tightly.

  They’d done it. They’d freed the duke’s army, saved Tarya and Vigo, and begun the evacuation. The only thing left was to flee.

  Joe looked at the palace. Asa was in there. His men were in there. The Brotherhood showed no signs of leaving. Did they even know about the volcano?

  ‘It’s not my problem!’ he muttered, turning, ready to run back to the tunnels. Hadn’t he wanted his revenge? Well, here it was, and he wouldn’t even get his hands dirty. The volcano would do his work for him.

  He stopped. He wasn’t that person any more. Joe realised he didn’t want them to die. Not even Asa. It wouldn’t bring his father back to life. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave those men to die, not without a warning at least. Some of them, he remembered, weren’t much older than himself, just drawn in by the Norlander songs and sense of belonging …

  ‘Ren, hide, please?’ He waited till she’d crept under a dusty shrub and was completely out of sight. Then he stepped out into full view, holding up his hands to show they were empty. He walked across the tiled courtyard, over the black dragon mosaic and up the steps to the double doors, trying to ignore t
he fact that there were probably a dozen hidden archers all aiming at his chest.

  His hands were hot and sweaty, but he made a fist and rapped loudly on the wooden doors. ‘Asa?’ he called, alarmed to hear his voice trembling slightly. ‘Asa!’ he tried again. ‘You need to hear this.’

  The door opened a crack, and a voice said, ‘You again? Are you their message boy now? He’ll see you. Come in.’ The door opened fully.

  It was the ginger-bearded man who’d handed him the ale at the meeting.

  ‘I won’t come in.’ Joe took a step back. ‘He’ll talk to me here.’ He had to stay safe, for Ren’s sake. Even coming this near was a terrible risk.

  The door slammed again. He waited. The heat intensi­fied. He rubbed his fingers against his trousers, slippery with sweat, then cupped his hands round his mouth.

  ‘Mount Bara is erupting!’ he bellowed, up at the palace windows, where he knew the Brotherhood were watching and listening. ‘There’s only an hour or less to take shelter. If you stay here, you will die!’

  That got their attention. He saw traces of movement beyond every window, like fish in deep water.

  The main door opened again. This time Asa stood there himself, sword drawn. It was the first time Joe had seen him in full daylight, face to face. He was just an ordinary Norlander man, the same age as his father perhaps, with white bristle on his hollow cheeks. And yet Asa stood here, untouched, while Nestan lay buried in his own garden. What was Joe even thinking, risking his life for this man?

  ‘You’re in danger,’ he began. ‘You need to get everyone out of here.’

  ‘You expect us to believe you? I don’t know how you pulled that trick last night, sneaking past our guards, but we won’t fall for your lies.’ Asa had heavy brows, a sailor’s lined face and sun-bleached eyes, with that little boat-shaped scar underneath. He also looked exhausted.

  ‘I’m not lying,’ Joe said through clenched teeth. He felt for all that anger he’d been saving up, ready to tell Asa exactly what he thought of him. But now he reached for it, there was nothing there, except pity.

  Asa raised one eyebrow. ‘Really?’

  ‘Hurry! Just leave, now. Even if you don’t want to follow me, you could take a ship – they say the open ocean is safer.’

  That was the worst thing he could have said. Asa’s mouth turned up in disgust. ‘A ridiculous story. As if we would abandon the island now. Nice try, Thornsen. No. We have the palace, and we’re holding it. The dragons might have taken your sister back, but we are winning and you people are desperate.’

  ‘Asa, no. Look at the sky. You can see the warning beacons with your own eyes.’ Joe was pointing over his shoulder now, realising he was losing his attention. Was he really so unwilling to listen? Would Asa rather die than admit he was wrong? ‘And the histories are right there in the library – you can read for yourself how dangerous it is—’

  ‘No.’ Asa’s voice was flat and hard. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword. Then he sighed. ‘I’ll let you go, Joe Thornsen. You remind me of—’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind. It’s not your fault you’ve eaten up their lies. You could have been one of us. Remember that.’ And he reached out and put his hand on Joe’s shoulder.

  For a moment, Joe held his gaze, and he felt sure he could reach him. No more people had to die. If he could just find the right words.

  Then Asa pushed him hard.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Joe fell backwards, right out of the doorway, breaking his fall with both hands. Pain shot up his wrists.

  The doors slammed shut again.

  ‘Asa! Open up! You have to leave, now!’

  The door stayed closed.

  Just then there came a distant rumble, like thunder, coming from the east. Mount Bara! Joe had no time left. The volcano was starting to erupt. How long before it blew? He glanced once, seeing the sky stained with a spray of orange lava.

  ‘Save yourselves!’ he yelled at the palace, hoping Yannic at least would hear him. He clambered to his feet, ignoring the pain, and sped back to where he’d left Ren, fear lending him speed. ‘Come on, Ren,’ he told her. ‘Can you run?’

  Aark! she said, darting after him.

  Joe checked over his shoulder. Could Ren keep up? He couldn’t carry her, she was too big now. And he wouldn’t leave his precious dragon behind. He peered backwards, anxiously. She’d never flown before, but by spreading her purple wings, Ren managed to do a strange mixture of running and jumping, flapping and clambering after him. She was keeping up.

  Spurred on by relief, Joe ran faster than he’d ever run in his life, arms pumping, legs stretching, eating up the ground with every stride.

  He didn’t know how long they had left. There was no time to reach the city. Instead, he veered round, heading for the stables and the tunnel entrance there.

  His breath was burning in his throat now, his chest heaving. He flew round a corner – only a few more strides. He reached the stables and slackened pace, momentum carrying him forwards. Then he stopped, bent forwards, catching his breath and checking for danger.

  Something caught his eye: a strange yellow wing, flutter­ing in a low bush. But hadn’t all the birds gone? There was something bulky dumped under there.

  Ren rushed awkwardly past him, falling head over tail and righting herself again.

  Mrraa? Aark? She sounded as though she couldn’t decide if it was danger or not.

  Then, with a flap of wings, the yellow dragon, Della, ran out of the bush, behaving strangely, dipping her head low, wings wide. She came straight to Joe, caught hold of his trouser leg with her teeth and tugged him.

  ‘Della, no! Get off me. We have to leave!’ He pulled himself away, ripping away a shred of fabric, and turning back to the gate.

  But Ren stretched up and nipped his ear lobe, gesturing frantically with her head towards the yellow dragon.

  ‘Really? Now?’ Ren nipped him again. ‘Ow! All right,’ he sighed, and followed Della back towards the bush.

  With a shock he realised there was a person there, sprawled facedown in the dust: a person wearing a yellow dragonrider jacket and leggings.

  Noah.

  He must have been caught up in the fighting – Joe saw a shocking bruise on his face, where someone must’ve hit him. He bent and touched his wrist: it was still warm, with a faint thready pulse.

  Ren growled, glaring up at him.

  Joe couldn’t leave Noah here: he would be a murderer. He would be worse than him. But time was running out.

  Ren flicked her purple tail, blocking his way.

  ‘Argh!’ he cried in frustration. ‘You may be right.’ He bent down and rolled Noah over. ‘But if we die saving him, it’s not my fault!’ Then he grasped one foot in each hand and leaned back with all his weight, managing to heave Noah’s body along the ground, his head bouncing alarmingly.

  They reached the stable building, and he kicked open the metal door to the tunnels.

  ‘In!’ he ordered the dragons.

  Then he crawled in backwards and dragged Noah after him. Jumping down into the passageway, Joe posi­tioned himself below the unconscious body of Noah and pulled him down over one shoulder, while Ren went ahead and Della crawled behind, making distressed sounds.

  Grunting with effort, Joe just managed to shut the gate behind them. Taking deep breaths, he staggered down the tunnel in darkness into the heart of the island.

  After twenty paces, Joe fell on his knees, ready to collapse. He rolled Noah off, as gently as he could manage, and rested there, gasping. ‘That’s it, Ren. I can’t carry him another step.’ It would have to do.

  She seemed satisfied enough, and they left Della guarding Noah, while Joe stumbled on, dripping with sweat, legs shaking with exhaustion, ready to drop. Ren guided him all the way.

  Every time he paused, uncertain of the way, Ren chittered in the dark: aark for the right way, an alarmed mraa if he tried to take a wrong turn.

  After stumbling many times, Joe finally heard the
distant buzz of voices and the perfect darkness was pierced by light. He’d made it. He reached the bottom stone step, and stood there, trembling, looking down on the crowd in the cave he always thought of as the dragonhall underground.

  Where was his mother? There she was! Tarya and Vigo! They were alive, their heads bent low over the baby in Tarya’s arms. Isak was with them. And Matteo, sitting with Amina and Conor. Winter was there, helping Milla and Thom. All the dragons were there, from Ando and Ruby, Iggie, Petra and Heral to the smaller Ariel and Maric. Tiago and Flavia, with Lina and Elias. Simeon and all the fisherfolk. Rosa and the duke’s army. He saw his friends from school, all the market traders. There was a group of black-clad Brotherhood soldiers, with their hands tied, who must’ve surrendered when they heard the news.

  Somehow, they’d done it. They were safe.

  He swayed where he stood, overwhelmed with relief. His legs finally gave way and he sank down onto the lowest step and put his head in his hands.

  He checked again. Yannic wasn’t there.

  ‘It’s Joe and Ren!’ Isak’s voice pierced the hubbub. ‘They made it!’

  There was a loud rush of applause and cheering.

  He looked up, hardly able to believe his ears. Were they laughing at him? What had he done now?

  But no, they were smiling, waving, beckoning him down.

  He was too stunned to move. His cheeks were burning and his eyes prickled, then a slow grin spread across his face.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Joe staggered down into the crowded cavern. ‘Noah’s back there – can someone carry him in?’ and then he was bobbing along in the sea of bodies as people he didn’t even know wished him well.

  ‘Well done, Joe!’

  ‘That’s Joe Thornsen. He sent the army for us.’

  ‘Josi’s son, he’s got a dragon now.’

  ‘He deserves it, after what happened to him.’