Darkness of Dragons

  “LET ME OUT SO I CAN KILL HER!”

  “See, that just doesn’t sound like a good idea,” Thorn said. “Smolder, look, she’s only a dragon. She probably wasn’t mad when she got here, but more than twenty years in the dark will eat away at anyone’s sanity.”

  “For LIES!” the dragon shrieked again. “I’M NOT HER! THE QUEEN NEVER CAME! NO ONE EVER CAME! NO ONE SEES ME! SHE STOLE MY FACE! SHE THREW MY FACE INTO THE FIRE! I’M NOT HER!”

  “Wait,” Onyx rasped. She dragged herself forward using her front talons, shoving Smolder off when he tried to help her. Her dark eyes squinted at the frantic prisoner.

  “You can’t possibly know her,” Thorn said curiously. “She’s been in here longer than you’ve been alive.”

  “She looks like my mother,” Onyx said. “Who wasn’t too emotionally stable herself, by the way. Lots of nightmares. Super paranoid. Would have kept me buried under a rock forever if she could have.”

  Smolder edged forward to take a closer look at the prisoner, too. She had her claws wrapped around the bars and her snout pressed between two of them, her eyes closed, as though she were trying to will herself free with the force of pure hatred.

  “Does she look like Palm?” Thorn asked him.

  “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” howled the prisoner.

  Smolder sat back, lifting his talons to cover his snout with an expression of horror and dismay. “No,” he said. “I mean — yes, but no, because this — I think this is Prickle.”

  “Who?” said Thorn.

  “Aunt Prickle?” Onyx said, grimacing as another wave of pain seemed to grip her.

  “Palm’s sister,” said Smolder. “Prickle, is that you? What are you doing here?”

  “You,” she snarled at him, clawing at her chains. A thin layer of clarity seemed to settle over her as she recognized him. “This is all your fault. Your earrings. Your fine words. Your stupid dragonet.”

  “That’s me,” said Onyx. “The stupid dragonet. Mother let the soldiers take Prickle, thinking she was Palm, so Mother could escape with me. She told me the whole story after her, like, nine thousandth nightmare about it. But she said they would have released Prickle within a day or two, once the queen realized the mistake.”

  “Except the queen died,” said Smolder. “She must have died before seeing her. And then no one ever …” He trailed off.

  “Wow,” Qibli said faintly.

  “I want to release you,” Thorn said to Prickle through the bars. “But I’m a little worried about what you might do.” She glanced sideways at Smolder.

  Prickle hissed and turned her back, hunching her wings around herself.

  “We’ll come back and try again,” Thorn said. “Now that we know who you are and what happened — we’ll bring someone you can talk to. We’ll get you back to the sunlight. I promise.”

  The only answer was a low growl.

  “Hello?” called a bored voice. “If prisoners are being released, can I be next?”

  “No, Cobra,” Thorn called back. “And by the way, your father attacked without your help, failed to overthrow me, and left again.”

  Cobra chuckled somewhere in the dark. “You really think he would give up that easily?” she said. “You think he’ll go back to his gilded compound and lie around eating scavengers peacefully for the rest of his life? Ha. Ha. Ha. Vulture will burn the kingdom to the ground before he gives up.”

  Thorn looked at Qibli and he nodded. He wished Cobra was wrong, but he knew it was true.

  A grinding, scraping sound came from the wall at the end of the tunnel — the sound of the old door to the arena being dragged open from the outside. Sunlight tumbled in, chasing away the ominous gloom of the dungeon. Smolder turned toward it, relief scrawled all over his face.

  Ostrich popped her head around the door. “I found it!” she chirped. “It was me!”

  “You’re very clever,” Six-Claws rumbled affectionately behind her.

  “Well done. Go get a doctor,” Thorn ordered Ostrich, striding over and shoving the door open another few inches. “Six-Claws, help me get Onyx out onto the sand.”

  Onyx hissed furiously as Six-Claws bent to lift her, but she kept her tail coiled safely away from him and Thorn as they carried her outside.

  She won’t be challenging Thorn again anytime soon, Qibli thought. Maybe ever, if they can talk her out of it while she’s recuperating. He glanced at Smolder, who was hurrying after them. That’s … suspiciously lucky.

  In the chaos of the storm, anything could have happened.

  Would Smolder deliberately injure his own daughter to stop her from fighting Thorn? To save Thorn’s life, and her own?

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Intentional harm or lucky accident — whichever it was, Thorn was safe and Onyx didn’t have to die. The Eye could go back around Thorn’s neck and she could continue to rule the kingdom in peace.

  Unless Darkstalker comes for it. Until the next step of his plan, whatever it is.

  “Bye, Qibli,” Cobra’s voice whispered from the dark. “I’m sure your grandfather will be seeing you soon.”

  Qibli shuddered and climbed out onto the arena sands. Winter reached down and caught his talons, hauling him up the last incline. The chill of his talons against Qibli’s felt like a reminder of the cold, worried feeling inside of him.

  Darkstalker and Vulture, working together. That could mean the end of Pyrrhia.

  He reached for the slate in his pouch again, although he’d almost lost hope that Turtle would ever send another message. Maybe he’d forgotten he had the slate, or that Qibli was out here waiting for news.

  But this time there was a new message.

  The message Qibli had been dreading ever since he watched Moon and Turtle fly away with Darkstalker.

  It read:

  DARKSTALKER KNOWS ABOUT ME. TRAPPED IN THE NIGHTWING PALACE. HELP!

  Winter turned the slate over a few times and then held it up to the sun, as if searching for a hidden message under the one that was there.

  “That’s it,” Qibli said, spreading his talons. “That’s all he wrote.” He paced back across the tiles, coiled his tail around one of the outstretched wings of the pavilion roof, and stared out at the desert. The wind breezed cheerfully around him, as if it had nothing to do with the mess of sand covering the palace below. From up here, atop one of the tallest palace towers, Pyrrhia looked as if it stretched forever in all directions.

  “This is bad,” said Winter.

  “DO YOU THINK SO?” Qibli shouted.

  “There’s no need to raise your voice at me,” Winter said, ruffling up the spines around his neck. “I’m the one who’s going to help you rescue him.”

  “I know, I know,” Qibli said. He clenched his talons and tried to calm down. “Turtle’s the one I really feel like yelling at.”

  “Turtle?” said Winter. “Isn’t he the dragon in distress here?”

  “Yes, but,” said Qibli, “if you’re going to send out a cry for help, shouldn’t it be a USEFUL cry for help? With ANY information in it? Such as maybe for instance WHERE THE MOONSBLASTED CAMEL-LICKING NIGHT KINGDOM IS???”

  “Ohhhhhh,” Winter said, looking at the message again. “You’re right. He doesn’t mention that.”

  “How are we supposed to rescue him?” Qibli cried, flinging his front claws in the air. “When we can’t even find him? Why hasn’t he sent me a message in three days? Just ‘hey, off to the Night Kingdom, toodles!’ and then ‘OH NO ACK I’M TRAPPED IN THE NIGHT KINGDOM’ and nothing in between! Rrrrrrrrgh.” He buried his face in his talons.

  And nothing about Moon. Is she all right? What does she think about Darkstalker trapping Turtle? Does this mean she’s in trouble, too?

  He took a deep breath and looked up at Winter again. As frustrated as he was, he had to admit to himself that he really didn’t know what Turtle had been going through, or how awful the last few days might have been for him. Most likely there hadn’t been any time to write a message. And now Tur
tle was living his worst nightmare.

  “Poor Turtle,” he said. “He must be terrified.”

  “What do you think Darkstalker will do to him?” Winter asked. “I mean … he did promise Moon that he wouldn’t hurt any of her friends.”

  “Sure, but I have a feeling Darkstalker knows a lot of ways to wriggle around his promises,” Qibli said. “Like, it’s not hurting Turtle to gently throw him in a NightWing dungeon. It’s not hurting you to put a brainwashing spell on you. It wouldn’t be hurting Kinkajou if he cast a spell like the one on Hailstorm, turning her into an entirely different dragon. See what I mean?”

  “He knows how to play tricks with words,” Winter said, nodding. “Kind of like you.”

  “What?! No! But evil,” Qibli protested. “So nothing like me.”

  “Right,” Winter said unconvincingly. “Oh, look, she’s found it.” He pointed at the shape of Queen Thorn flying toward them.

  Qibli beat back the suspicion that Winter was trying to change the subject. He stood up and waved, and Thorn swooped down to drop the Obsidian Mirror in his talons.

  “Thank you,” he said as she landed beside him.

  “I hope you find your friend,” she said. “Do you need an army? ’Cause guess what, I have an army now. Like, a big one. They’re pretty awesome.”

  “But the NightWing army has superpowers,” Winter pointed out darkly.

  “And Darkstalker will see us coming if we arrive with an army,” Qibli said. “That’s the kind of thing that would show up bright and clear in his visions of the future. I don’t want to get any SandWings killed.” He balanced the mirror on his front talons. “I’m hoping Winter and I won’t look like much of a threat to him. I mean, we’re no threat at all right now, since we can’t even find him.”

  “I’m not sure this will help,” Thorn said, nodding at the mirror. “You can’t see the dragons you’re spying on — there aren’t any details about where they are. They’d have to say something helpful.”

  “I know,” Qibli said. “Cross your claws for me.”

  He breathed smoke across the smooth black surface and whispered: “Moonwatcher.”

  Winter gave him a sharp sideways look. “Moon?” he said. “Not Turtle, or Darkstalker?”

  “I’ll try them next,” Qibli said. He’d chosen her instinctively. He really needed to know Moon was all right.

  The smoke coiled immediately into one small black spiral and a slightly smaller twist of blue-pink-yellow-red, which was flurrying wildly around the first one.

  “Bet I know who that is,” Qibli said, just as Moon’s voice said, “Kinkajou, please calm down.”

  “Kinkajou’s all right?” Winter said, his eyes lighting up.

  Qibli nodded and shushed him.

  “Me calm down?” Kinkajou cried. “You need to un-calm down! You need to ramp all the way up to freaking out right now!”

  “About what?” Moon protested. “How can I freak out when you won’t tell me why?”

  “I can’t tell you!” Kinkajou yelped. “Aaaarrrrrgh! Because you don’t have skyfire, so if I tell you, Darkstalker might read it in your mind, and then he’ll know I told you and ALL KINDS OF TERRIBLE THINGS MIGHT HAPPEN. AAAAAAARRRGH!”

  “Oh my goodness, Kinkajou,” Moon said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not the end of the world.”

  “Except that it totally is! It is probably the actual literal end of the world. I have to go back to Jade Mountain,” Kinkajou said abruptly. “Will you come with me?”

  “Right now?” Moon hesitated. “Darkstalker asked me to stay until tomorrow at least — he said he wants to introduce me to someone. Can we leave after that?”

  Kinkajou’s curl of smoke turned several different colors, finally settling on an interesting mix of pea green and smoky red. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll do some detective work until then. Stealth mode! That’s me!” All the colors vanished, leaving barely a whisper of pale smoke behind.

  “Just be careful,” Moon said. “Remember, Darkstalker is paranoid for a reason, considering what happened to him.”

  “Which he brought upon himself,” Kinkajou observed. “By being completely evil.”

  “Kinkajou —”

  “Don’t you argue with me,” Kinkajou said. “Just tell me when you’re ready to get out of here.” Her barely visible smoke whirled away, leaving Moon’s wisp alone on the mirror.

  “I can’t believe Kinkajou is making more sense than Moon right now,” Winter said, rubbing his forehead.

  “I hope she’s all right,” Qibli said. “Darkstalker could figure out Kinkajou isn’t under his spell any moment.” He frowned. “But I don’t understand how Moon is still enchanted. Didn’t Tsunami ever catch up with them? She should have given Moon an earring days ago.”

  “Maybe we should look for her, too,” Thorn suggested.

  “Let’s check on Turtle first,” said Qibli. For a moment he gazed at the tiny trail of smoke that was as close as he could get to Moon right now, and then he breathed the mirror clear again and called up Turtle.

  Turtle’s smoke was dark green and somehow radiated sadness, as much as a wisp of smoke could do that. It was coiled miserably in the middle of the mirror. Qibli couldn’t tell if he was asleep or just sad — the only sound the smoke made was an occasional deep sigh.

  “At least he’s alive,” Thorn said hopefully.

  “Probably in a cell,” Winter guessed. “No one to talk to.”

  I hope this isn’t our fault somehow, Qibli worried. Like if something I did changed the future, which led Darkstalker to figure out that another animus must be working against him … oh, Turtle, I’m sorry.

  That wasn’t giving them any information, so Qibli finally tried Darkstalker, although even saying Darkstalker’s name gave Qibli the creepy feeling that the ancient dragon would somehow hear him and know he was being spied on.

  Darkstalker’s spire of smoke was taller than anyone else’s and it moved slowly but purposefully across the obsidian.

  “Hello,” his voice rumbled, and Qibli saw Winter take an involuntary step back — as if he, too, feared the NightWing might be looking back at them.

  “Hello,” Darkstalker said again. “Oh, very nice work clearing the weeds. Smart thinking. We should get these gardens going again so we can feed ourselves. You haven’t received a gift yet, have you? I could give you the power to sprout every seed you plant — some kind of master gardener skill. Wouldn’t that be useful?”

  “Um,” said a small dark purple wisp that had unfurled beside his. “I mean, yes, very useful, sir, thank you. But I was thinking something more like seeing the future … I guess I’ve always thought seeing the future would be cool.”

  “Hmmm,” said Darkstalker. “I suppose it is. But you don’t really need to, since I can see the future, and one seer in the tribe is really quite enough. Whereas we could use lots of gardeners … well, you think it over and we’ll talk again soon.”

  “Wait,” said the other dragon. “Sorry, sir, you’re right, I’d love the power you described. I’m ready for it now.”

  “If you’re sure …” Darkstalker paused heavily.

  “I’m sure! I’m sure.”

  “Yikes,” said Thorn, leaning forward as Darkstalker muttered something. “It’s that easy? You want a superpower, here, done?”

  “It’s that easy,” Qibli said, curling in his claws. That could have been him handing out powers to make dragon lives better, if he had Darkstalker’s scroll.

  They listened for a while longer, but Darkstalker seemed to be strolling through the streets of his kingdom, visiting his subjects. And no one he spoke with said anything like, “Boy, this island half a day’s flight due west of the Scorpion Den is pretty neat” or “Who would ever have guessed there was a whole kingdom buried under the mountains and accessible by a tunnel at the foot of Scarlet’s palace?” (Both of which were among Qibli’s numerous theories for where the ancient kingdom might be.)

  No one dropped any clue
s at all; the only thing Qibli picked up on that might have been useful was the background noise of the wind, as if it was whistling through deep ravines. (So, not underground, then.)

  “I think there’s only one thing we can do,” he said at last.

  “What’s that?” Winter asked.

  “Go back to Jade Mountain.” Qibli blew away Darkstalker’s smoke with a little more vigor than was really necessary. “We know Kinkajou and Moon will hopefully be there in a day or two. Or maybe Sunny and Clay can help us.” He shook his head. “I hate leaving them all wherever they are, though. I want to get to Turtle right now.” And to Moon and Kinkajou, who are in danger every second.

  “Last one,” Winter said, pointing to the mirror. “Try Tsunami.”

  “She’s probably back at the academy,” Qibli said with a sigh. Most likely she’d arrived at the rainforest after everyone had left, and they were too far ahead for her to figure out where they’d gone. But he whispered her name to the mirror and breathed out smoke.

  It seemed to take a moment, coiling back and forth and around before settling into a blue spiral in the center, which immediately started yelling.

  “I SAID WHO ARE YOU?” shouted Tsunami’s voice. “You coward! Show yourself! What do you want with me?” She took a deep breath, as if listening for a response, then roared again. “LET ME OUT OF HERE! My friends are heroes, you know! YOU’LL BE SORRY FOR THIS!”

  Thorn’s eyes met Qibli’s, both of them shocked into silence.

  Tsunami wasn’t safely back at Jade Mountain after all.

  The great warrior of the Five Dragonets, one of the best and most ferocious dragons Qibli knew, was somebody’s prisoner.

  “Tsunami’s a prisoner?” Queen Thorn said disbelievingly.

  “But whose?” said Qibli. “And how? Tsunami? Of all dragons — how? And why? And who?”