Kay’s stomach had turned into butterflies.
They stopped in the same place and repeated the ritual, Kay’s mother urging her to call. Kay wondered if she’d even get reception a thousand feet up. Or if it was anything like flying on an airline. Please turn off all cell phones and pagers…
She almost laughed.
Kay hugged her mother extra hard, then went off into the woods. She had to concentrate not to look back.
She’d given Jon a pretty detailed map, marking off an easy-to-find spot where the stream turned, but that still left a fairly wide area where he could have left the gear. Marking a spot or trail by tying something to a branch at eye level was a common practice. So, when she reached the general area, she started searching for something that stood out, for anything colorful and fluttering that would mark the spot.
She didn’t have too much time for this. She’d have to meet Artegal, and then they’d have to move quickly.
“Kay! Over here!”
She spun, panicked, looking for the source of the call. Who had followed her? Her first instinct was to run.
Then she saw Jon, duffel bag over his shoulder, waving his hand.
20
He was right where she’d asked him to be, near the creek, downstream a ways from where she met Artegal. She stared for a moment then, angry, scrambled to him.
“Jon! What are you doing here?”
“I can’t let you do this by yourself.”
“You don’t even know what I’m doing!”
He didn’t say anything, because she was right. She was sort of disappointed, because she wanted to argue with him.
“It’s better if you stay out of it,” she said, grabbing the strap of the duffel bag and pulling it away from him. The coils of rope were lying at his feet, and she picked those up as well. She started hiking along the stream toward the clearing.
Jon followed. She thought of yelling at him, but that wouldn’t make him stop. She’d have to go back herself, not meet Artegal and not go through with the plan.
Tempting.
“Jon. Please.” She turned on him and glared.
“I’m worried about you. I want to help.”
She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t want to have to worry about him, too. Maybe she’d been wrong to ask for his help at all. She kept walking. “You can’t help.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s…it’s too big. There’s too much to explain. I’m sorry, Jon. I’m just…I’m sorry.”
She hiked, he followed, and she didn’t argue with him again. The whole point of this was to reveal the big secret, to go public. May as well start now. She had no idea how he’d react once he realized what she was doing. He may never speak to her again for keeping this from him. That almost made her stop; she didn’t think she could handle it if Jon stopped talking to her. But he wouldn’t do that; she wouldn’t like him so much if he was the kind of guy who would do that.
Only a few minutes of hiking brought them to the creek. It glittered in the sunlight. Beyond, the forest looked no different than it did on this side of the border.
“That’s the border, isn’t it?” he said, stopping at the edge of the water, staring. “We can’t go over there. They’ll kill us.” He pursed his lips. “Somebody’ll kill us.”
“It’ll be okay,” she said, wishing she sounded more confident. She looked around; if anyone else had followed her, she couldn’t see them. “Jon, no matter what happens, don’t be angry with me. Please?”
“No, of course not. I just…I just want to understand with this is about.”
He would, soon enough. She kissed Jon’s cheek, squeezed his hand, then crossed the log bridge over the partly frozen creek.
He held back, looking at her with panic in his eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she’d taken crossing the border for granted. How deeply ingrained the rules had been until she’d met Artegal by accident.
“Kay?” Jon called, not moving.
Kay had only just touched the opposite bank when a familiar noise grew louder—at first, it blended with the jangle of running water. It sounded like a breeze. But Kay knew what it was. Something large with heavy footfalls moved through the forest.
Artegal appeared, neck snaking forward, shadowy body moving into view.
Jon’s eyes widened. “Oh my God—”
“No, Jon, wait.”
He stumbled back, tripping over himself as he started to run away. At the same time, Artegal reared back, curling his neck, spreading his wings, making himself appear larger. A hot breath snorted from his nose and fogged in clouds.
Jon was beyond words, his face locked in terror.
“Jon! Artegal! Stop!” She called to Jon and looked over her shoulder to Artegal, unsure who she should yell at first.
Jon fell, limbs splayed, gazing up at the monster that had stopped at the edge of the water, as if he might spring forward. Artegal had lowered himself to peer more closely at the strange human. Kay was standing next to his huge head, but he hardly seemed to notice her.
“This is my friend, Jon,” Kay said to the dragon. “Jon, this is…this is Artegal.”
Kay’s two friends studied each other.
“Oh my God,” Jon breathed, his voice shaking a little.
After a long moment, the dragon breathed, “Hello.”
“Jesus, Kay!” Jon said. Kay tried to remember the terror she’d felt the first time the scaled face looked down on her. She couldn’t remember it very well.
“It’s okay, Jon! I swear to you it’s okay.”
Artegal turned to her, head shifting on snakelike neck. “Why is he here?”
Sadly, she said, “He wouldn’t stay away.”
“It talks!” Jon said.
“Of course he does,” she said.
“You can’t come with us,” Artegal said.
Jon looked like he was having trouble breathing. Never taking his eyes off the dragon, he sat up. “C-come with you? Where?”
Artegal nodded, a tip of his narrow snout, and turned to Kay. “We should go.”
“Go? Kay, what are you doing?” Jon demanded.
“Jon, please go home. If you see my mom—I don’t know what to tell her. Make up some excuse. Just keep them from looking here.” She put on her climbing harness and started laying out the ropes. Artegal crouched to where she could throw them over his back.
“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Jon said. “Kay, that’s crazy.”
Kay secured the knots over Artegal’s chest before turning on him. “Jon, please, we have to do this.”
“But why—”
Artegal’s head lifted, his neck straightening. He looked around, scanning the area, nostrils flaring.
They’d been arguing, not paying attention. Kay tensed, anxious to spot what had startled the dragon. She heard only one thing: the rapid beat of an approaching helicopter. Then she saw people, men in black fatigues, rifles pointed ahead of them, emerging through the trees. The first was visible a dozen yards behind Jon, but when Kay turned, she seemed to find them everywhere. She hadn’t heard them at all.
Now, they surrounded the area.
Action erupted. A couple of the soldiers shouted cryptic one-word orders and replies. Something launched from the trees, and Kay choked on a scream because she thought it was a bullet or a rocket. She realized then that she’d believed no one would shoot at her, that even if the soldiers did follow her and find her with Artegal, they wouldn’t shoot.
But the shot wasn’t a weapon—it was some kind of net, weighted on the corners, that flattened as it sailed toward Artegal, too fast to dodge. The dragon turned, shouldering it away. Instinctively, he batted at it with a claw, and the net tangled around his arm and wing—as it was supposed to. Twisting his neck, he snapped at it, snarling, exhaling smoke.
Branigan hadn’t really expected her to spy on Artegal. So he used her to trap him.
Shouting now, Kay ran forward to tug the net away.
/> “Artegal, stop a minute!” He did, looking at her, his black eyes wide.
She jumped up to reach the tangled length of the net, grabbed it, pulled. She couldn’t find the ends, couldn’t find where it had gotten caught; the more she tugged and twisted the net’s ropes, the more snarled they became.
Artegal stretched his head high, his neck curving over her, which must have given him a view of the whole clearing, and of the soldiers swarming toward them. She was close to his chest and heard him inhale, his body expanding, and a sound like a growl rattling deep in his chest.
Then, he exhaled, an explosive burst of air—and fire.
The dragon turned, sweeping a line of fire in a long arc around them, clearing a space, keeping the soldiers at bay. It sounded like a forge, a blow torch, and Kay fell to the ground, arms over her head, choking at the soot-and-ash smell of it, her head ringing with the sound of trees catching fire. Heat washed over her. It was just like the fire in town, flames meant to kill. She was in the middle of it, and she couldn’t move.
“No! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
Sheltered under Artegal’s body, Kay looked. Jon dashed across the stream, splashing in the water, not bothering with the bridge. He was yelling at the soldiers, who now turned and leveled their weapons at him. Once again, Kay almost screamed in panic. But there came a shouted order to stand down. A few of the trees burned, orange flames climbing, sending up tendrils of smoke, and one of the soldiers yelled into a radio.
Artegal’s fire had kept the soldiers back, had made them hesitate. He’d given her more time. She got back to work, and this time the net came free. With a shudder the dragon shed the rest of it.
“Kay, now,” Artegal said with a snort. He crouched low, hunched protectively over her.
Kay grabbed the ropes and hauled herself onto Artegal’s back. He launched, straight up.
“Stop! Hold it!” There must have been a half dozen gruff male voices yelling at her, commanding her.
A noise popped like a firecracker.
“Don’t shoot!” she heard Jon yell again.
Then she didn’t hear anything but wind in her ears.
She didn’t have her harness clipped on. She looped the ropes around her arms and clung to them, keeping herself flat against the dragon’s back because that made her more stable.
“I’m not hooked in!” she shouted to him, and thumped his shoulder. She felt the snort of acknowledgment echo through his lungs.
They didn’t have to do any fancy flying. That wasn’t the plan for this trip. They just needed to be seen.
Once clear of the trees, Artegal leveled off. His wings flapped hard, and she hadn’t realized how much soaring he’d done on their other flights. Those had been almost leisurely, riding thermals, swooping in circles, his wings stretched like sails, sometimes not moving at all. Now, his muscles bunched, released, the wings scooping over and over as they flew faster and faster, wind whipping past her. She wasn’t built for this. Artegal, on the other hand, was streamlined, cutting through the air like a missile. She couldn’t see over his shoulder to judge their location, but he must have covered miles in the last few minutes.
She heard a strange, distant thumping—mechanical, sinister. Helicopter. She looked around and saw it past the shadow of Artegal’s moving wing. There were several of them, coming from all directions; a couple were black, sleek and military, but a couple of others were white, with news channel markings on the sides. Artegal tipped up, spun, and banked out of the way. They couldn’t follow. But there was no doubt that they’d seen her. He showed his back to them all.
The military had kept the pictures of their earlier flight secret. This time, Kay and Artegal needed to be seen by the cameras.
When Artegal banked again, she saw that they were well over the border, just like they’d planned, sailing near the highway that ran toward Silver River. Someone had to see them. The news crews wouldn’t be able to resist getting pictures.
She’d planned to have the harness clipped on. Then, she’d be able to straighten, lean back, wave her arms around, shout, and draw as much attention as possible. They may still see her, flattened and clinging to Artegal’s back, but it wouldn’t be as impressive. It wouldn’t be as clear that they were partners in this. Hell, unless she moved around, she might look dead, strapped to his back in some morbid display.
After unlacing one hand from the rope, she found the carabiner at the front of her harness. Her heart was racing. She hoped Artegal didn’t make any sudden lurches while she was dangling like this. Don’t look down, she murmured to herself over and over. Don’t look down, don’t look down. She kept her gaze focused on the ropes and the gleaming scales of Artegal’s back.
Her gloved hand couldn’t work the carabiner on the harness, so she took the glove off with her teeth. Her hand started shaking in the freezing air. Or maybe she was just that scared.
This will be worth it, she told herself. Writhing, she maneuvered up the rope to the loop in the middle of Artegal’s back, clinging so tightly, her hands were going numb.
Then, finally, she snapped on to the loop of rope.
“I’m hooked in!” she yelled.
Artegal roared. Then he corkscrewed. Kay screeched with fright. And, if she was honest, excitement.
The land, snow-patched spring meadows and stretches of forest, rolled under her, then buildings from the town appeared. Artegal dipped, swooping close enough that she could see cars on the road, see them screeching to a halt, and see tiny people climbing out and looking up. The news vans, where were the news vans?
Outside the temporary FBBE headquarters, where they’d been parked all week. She found the knots in the rope of the harness and pressed the left-hand one into Artegal’s shoulder. He veered in that direction. She wished she could explain to him exactly what they were looking for. Satellite dishes on top of vans. People with cameras and microphones.
If they circled long enough, though, someone would call in the cameras.
Unless Artegal banked, she couldn’t see what they were flying over. She could, however, see what else was flying. Craning her head, she spotted two or three military helicopters. Rapid popping noises, like stuttering fireworks, rattled the air.
Machine guns. They were firing.
Artegal veered sharply, and for a heart-stopping moment Kay thought he’d been shot. She looked around for blood. But there’d been no flinch of pain; the dragon was simply altering his flight path to make himself less of a target. He rose, dived, and spun, and Kay started to feel a little airsick. She clamped her eyes shut, but that made it worse, so she concentrated on keeping her gaze on the ropes across the dragon’s back.
He kept ahead of them—that was what had always maintained the balance, that dragons were as fast as anything flown by humans. But they kept firing. Artegal dropped in altitude, and dropped again. They weren’t shooting at him, she realized. They were trying to force him to land.
In response, he dived sharply and twisted, and she gasped, clinging even harder to the ropes. She was sure she was locked in, but that didn’t stop the panic. He was weaving, turning, swooping in circles, barely high enough to clear buildings, and he’d left the helicopters far behind. When he leveled off, he was skimming the ground. She looked across and saw trees at their level.
If this didn’t work, nothing would.
Kneeling on his back, Kay let the harness take her weight. She raised her arms, stretching them straight up. The wind punched into her, and she laughed.
They would be seen. No doubt about it. A role model for the community, her father had said. The sheriff’s daughter—the hero’s daughter, the captions on the photos had read. Kay didn’t know how real any of that was. She certainly didn’t feel like a role model. But her father had been right, and people would pay particular attention to this, and treat it as more than a stunt, because of who she was.
Looking up, she saw news helicopters along with the military helicopters, and Kay wondered what kind of co
nversation was going on between their radios. The air was getting crowded. But she waved at them, hoping they could see her smile.
Artegal must have also felt they were getting hemmed in, because his wings started pumping again, and he climbed, ignoring gunfire and pursuing helicopters. She was so worried about him getting shot, she stopped worrying about falling.
This was only the first part of it. They’d been seen by the human side. Now, they needed to be seen by the dragons. He headed north and west, to the border, to the narrow valleys where they had practiced flying. Kay huddled on Artegal’s back, wrapped in her coat for warmth, as he rocketed deeper into dragon territory.
This flight wasn’t as exhilarating as the others had been. Before, they’d been playing. This flight had purpose. It was serious, more serious than anything she’d ever done. More serious even than her father’s funeral, which had, in some ways, seemed like watching a movie about someone else. But this—she felt her blood rushing in her ears.
She wanted to know she was going to be okay when this was all over. Artegal was taking her to see dragons. She wondered if this was what it felt like to go to war.
She wondered if she ought to be waving a white flag of truce.
The mountains grew closer. Artegal pointed toward them like an arrow. All the times she had looked north, watching the dragons, specks soaring in the distance, she never thought she’d be this close. Now, she wondered if she had secretly wanted to go to them all this time, like climbing a rock face that was off limits, an exotic spot on her map. She wanted to see, just for a moment.
When Artegal veered, she looked over, around the sail of his wing, and saw them. Dragons, three of them, like castles in the sky, growing larger as they approached.
It was far too late to change her mind, to turn back, and she grew afraid. She didn’t want to do this; she didn’t want to be here. She huddled on Artegal’s back, but there was no way the blue and red ropes and her black parka would blend in with his scales.
A roar echoed toward them, then modulated, changing pitch, tone, rhythm. Artegal roared back in a clipped way she’d never heard before, different from his full-lunged shouts. Speech. This was how dragons talked to one another.