“I’m here!” cried Princess Shanti from the west wing of the entrance. She gripped the wall and flung her garment train up over one shoulder to keep from tripping, and headed toward the tigers.
Dev breathed a sigh of relief. If something happened to Shanti, he’d be responsible. He weaved toward her, getting shoved and slammed into along the way. Finally he reached her.
Shanti was more than a princess to Dev—more than someone to boss him around. She was his only friend. “There you are,” he said with relief. “What happened? I went outside to get firewood for your dressing room, and came back to this mess.”
Shanti gave him a sly grin as she pushed her way to the tigers, who were yanking against their chains in angst. Dev followed. “Finally some excitement in the castle,” she said lightly. “It’s about time. It’s been ghastly boring around here.” She looked up at the dragons. “I see the magicians got the job done before being dragged off to market. Nice work bringing them here. Did you find your reward?”
“Yes.” Dev looked at the dragons and pressed his lips into a thin line. The gold had been on his cot as promised. That small nugget was worth more than all his possessions put together. More money than he’d ever had in his life, which admittedly wasn’t much. “So . . . the magicians are gone, then?”
“I would imagine so, by now,” said Shanti. “Dragonsmarche opens early, and they expect quite a lot of bidding for the black-eyed ones.” She said it callously, then added, “I told the soldiers to let the boy go, though. Father won’t care—he’s not worth anything.”
“Yes, so I heard.” Dev frowned and pointed to the dragons. “How did they get loose?”
“Not my problem,” said Shanti. “But I’m glad they’re out, at least for a little while. I couldn’t stand seeing them muzzled like they were. It’s not humane.” She petted the chained-up tiger nearest her.
“I guess not.” Dev agreed wholeheartedly with her. He also thought it was terrible that she kept her pet tigers chained up all the time, with all those glitzy cloaks and jewels layered on them, but he wasn’t supposed to have an opinion. “I ought to get you out of here, you know,” he said. “Before you get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt,” she scoffed. “Besides, it’s such fun watching.”
“True.” Dev stifled a yawn. He’d been up all night doing punishment chores except for a few short naps when no one was looking, and all he really wanted was to go to bed. But he knew the princess well, and he knew she wasn’t about to be whisked into hiding just to give him a chance to sleep. So he summoned up renewed vigor and tried to appear as eager as possible to entertain her. In a low voice, he said, “I suppose there’s a way we could cause a bit more of a ruckus before it’s over, if Your Highness is interested.”
Shanti looked sideways at Dev, and a smile played at her lips. “Is there?”
Dev nodded solemnly. “This dangerous situation may require me to take you out of here on the tigers’ backs. If you call for the drawbridge to be let down for our escape, well, who knows what else could happen?” He glanced up at the dragons, and then he looked at Shanti. A tremor of fear flitted through him. Had he read her wishes right? Or had he gone too far?
Thankfully, Shanti was a rebellious princess, and she seemed to appreciate the way Dev was always coming up with ways to amuse her. Sometimes she even treated him like a friend instead of her servant. Dev lived for those moments.
Before she could answer, a skirmish among the soldiers broke out not far away. The two of them ducked as fists and weapons began to fly. “We’d better get out of here,” Shanti said, trying to hide her delight. She turned and addressed the guard who controlled the portcullis and drawbridge. “Open the gates,” she commanded.
The entry guard seemed startled, but he complied. As the portcullis went up and the drawbridge was lowered, Princess Shanti and Dev untethered the tigers and climbed on. A moment later, they were off, racing through the entryway that was now littered with weapons and injured soldiers. “I’m going to be in so much trouble,” said the princess with glee.
“And I’ll be in even more,” said Dev grimly, who would take the physical punishment for both of them. But perhaps giving the dragons a chance to escape would help atone for the guilt he felt in tricking the twins. The gold sat like a painful lump in his pocket.
As they reached the drawbridge, Dev whistled sharply to get the dragons’ attention and pointed out the opening escape hatch. The dragons roared and dove for the exit, dodging spears and swords, spewing fire from their mouths with reckless abandon, caring only about their freedom now—they would have it no matter the cost, no matter the code. Soon the five dragons were soaring outside over the moat, free for the first time in many years.
Back in the dungeon, things weren’t going quite so well.
Seth Rides Again
Simber and Seth continued plowing their way through the catacomb-like dungeon full of prisoners. But it didn’t take long before the constant vibration from Simber’s shoulders and wings digging trenches in the walls began to affect Seth. First his hands and legs grew numb from it. Then the rest of his body.
“I—I—I ca-a-a-n’t fe-e-e-l my finger-r-r-s!” he said, keeping his head down as more and more bits of rock poured on him. “O-r-r-r my ar-r-rms!” He couldn’t tell if he was holding on tightly to Simber’s neck or if he was even gripping the beast at all.
“Hold on the best you can!” Simber told him.
The stone cheetah wasn’t worried about getting tired, for that almost never happened with Artimé’s living statues—except for Kitten, of course, who could sleep through an entire war. Simber didn’t need to rest. However, he was starting to get worried about chipping or falling apart. He wasn’t sure if his shoulder joints or wing tips were holding up or wearing away. It wouldn’t be good at all if they were disintegrating. And his wings had never been so important as they were now, stuck in a different world where flight was the only way to get home. But there was no other option except for him to continue.
A valiant soldier stood fast in front of Simber, holding a spear pointed at the cheetah’s eye. Simber ducked and plowed into him. The soldier and his spear flew up in the air and landed hard in the path of dust and rubble Simber left behind him. One by one Simber clobbered all the men and women who stood in his way. They didn’t have a chance.
But Simber was worried about Seth. He knew the boy must have been through a lot already, and this trek wasn’t easy. But there was no way to make it better for him. They had to stay together to get to Carina and Thatcher, then escape the castle and find the twin girls. Nothing would stand in Simber’s way. Alex was counting on him, and he would never let the head mage of Artimé down. He couldn’t manage a glance behind him, but he could tell by instinct that at least some of the guards he’d knocked down were back up again and following him. He moved faster.
Seth hung on as well as he could until Simber took a sharp turn. The boy’s numb fingers could hold on no longer, and before he knew it, he was sliding off Simber’s back and landing facedown on the dungeon floor. A flurry of dust and dirt flew into his face and down his throat, so he could barely choke out, “Simber!”
The winged creature realized a moment later that he’d lost his rider, but of course in the narrow hallway he couldn’t turn around. He stopped momentarily, then started backing up awkwardly—something he’d never quite mastered the art of.
Quickly Seth sat up, coughing and choking. From the dust behind them, soldiers’ shadowy figures grew larger. Seth reached for his vest pockets, remembered how empty they were, and found them still empty. He scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but he slipped on the gravel. On one knee, with soldiers fast approaching and Simber still several yards in front of him, Seth tried a new spell for the second time that day.
“Glass!” he shouted, barely getting the word out in a fit of coughing. He pointed in the direction of the soldiers. Nothing happened, and soon they were coming out of the dust and reaching for him.
“Glass!” Seth repeated as he tried to run again.
This time a sheet of glass appeared between him and the soldiers, cutting them off. They slammed into it. The last thing Seth saw was four faces pressing against it before he turned and vaulted onto Simber’s back once more.
“Feel frrree to do that spell a few morrre times,” Simber remarked as they were on their way again. He sniffed, trying to find the familiar scents of Thatcher and Carina.
“I didn’t know I could do that,” said Seth with newfound energy despite his growing list of aches and pains.
Simber burrowed through more hallways, with Seth hanging on and occasionally throwing more glass spells. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t. But if there was one thing Seth had learned that day, it was not to give up when something didn’t work.
Finally Simber slowed and turned down a hallway. He sampled the air. Then, with a loud roar, he charged forward. Familiar voices rose up in response, guiding Simber down the right path until they came to the correct cell. Simber screeched to a halt. Seth vaulted up and over Simber’s head into the chamber where Carina and Thatcher were imprisoned. He landed awkwardly, then righted himself and ran straight to his mother. He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Mom!”
Tears flowed down Carina’s cheeks, and she struggled against the chains, trying and failing to hug her son.
“I’m really sorry,” Seth said.
She was shaking. It made him feel even worse.
Carina closed her eyes against the tears and couldn’t respond. Meanwhile Simber pressed his shoulders into the walls on either side of the opening, breaking through those too so he could fit inside the chamber. Once through, he reached Thatcher and wasted no time chomping on the chains that were attached to his wrists and ankles, leaving the cuffs attached for now—they’d worry about those later.
“Was Thisbe in herrre with you?” asked Simber. “Herrr scent lingerrrs.”
“She was next door,” said Thatcher. He eased his sore body to a standing position, then gently guided Seth aside so Simber could chomp off Carina’s chains. “Come on, Seth—let’s stop these soldiers from reaching us. We don’t have time to waste on them now. Where are the girls?”
Seth explained what they knew as he and Thatcher climbed over Simber into the hallway. Carefully they looked this way and that, throwing glass spells down the hallways around them so that they could reorganize without any soldiers attacking.
Seth climbed onto Simber’s back so he’d be ready to go once Carina was freed. As Simber finished destroying the chains and got himself turned around in the tight space, Thatcher poked his head into Thisbe’s old cell. He knew whoever had been in there with her had helped her.
“Thank you,” said Thatcher, peering into the darkness.
“You’re welcome.” Maiven’s old voice trembled. “Tell Miss Thisbe I enjoyed her company. I won’t forget her.”
Thatcher wrung his hands. Should they try to rescue the woman, too? If they did, would she even survive trying to exit as Simber barreled through the hallways? Could she move quickly? Did she have a place to go? And if she took a spot on Simber’s back, would there be enough room for the twins?
The old woman settled his mind for him. “Go now. Quickly. That precious girl’s life is in your hands.”
Thatcher ran in, gave the old woman a hug and a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. “We won’t forget you, either,” he whispered. He ran back out and hopped onto Simber’s back behind Seth and Carina.
Leaving Maiven Taveer behind, they were off.
Making Their Escape
Stay low!” shouted Simber. “Keep your heads down!” The stone cheetah crashed through the first of the many glass barriers Seth and Thatcher had put up. He decided the best way to get out of the maze of the dungeon was to go back the way they came, since the tunneled walls were a sure sign they were heading in the right direction, and it would mean less wear on his shoulders and wings.
Carina bent low to protect her son, though he certainly had proven that he could protect himself pretty well without her. Simber made a few turns, then sped up through a straightaway.
“Do you have any components?” asked Seth when he had a moment to breathe. “I’m completely out.”
“Nothing much left,” Carina said. “A couple blinding highlighters. Preserve spells. We used up everything else.”
“Mom!” Seth said. “I was counting on you to have more.”
“Well, I was counting on you to not run away from home.” They crashed through another barrier. Most of the shards of glass flew forward, but some rained down on them, and they all became preoccupied with getting them off.
Carina had a few more retorts for her son, but she held her tongue. She didn’t want to have an argument here. Besides, she had mixed feelings about what Seth and the twins had done. It really wasn’t much different from what Alex and Lani and Meghan and Samheed had done when they were thirteen . . . only they hadn’t had parents around to tell them not to. It was definitely a deeper issue that Carina wanted to figure out inside herself before she slapped down any new rules or punishments. Besides, she was proud of her son. He’d stepped up in a way she’d never seen from him before.
Carina squeezed Seth a little harder as Simber called out a warning for another glass barrier, and then she suddenly realized they didn’t need to be jumping through them at all. “I’ve got this one!” she called out to Simber.
She leveled her hand toward it. “Release,” she muttered. The glass melted to the floor and Simber passed through.
“I can only put them up,” said Seth. “My release spell isn’t really working so great yet.”
“It all takes time,” said Carina. “You’ll get there.”
“But I made one of the dragons fly.”
Carina tilted her head, not sure if she heard him right. “You . . . what?”
“I made Drock’s wings come to life. Fifer got taken away before she could finish, so I had to do it.”
“And . . . it worked? That’s a difficult one!”
“I really had to concentrate hard. I didn’t think I could do it, but I knew I had to or everything would fall apart. So I did it.” He flashed a sheepish glance over his shoulder. “Are you proud?”
Carina’s eyes pooled, and she was silent for a long moment. Then she said quietly, “I am amazed by you.”
Finally Simber made it back to the empty dragon dungeon. The soldiers who saw him coming fled for their lives, so Simber took a moment near the stables to let everybody shake out their clothes and assess the damage. Despite all the magical protection and preserve spells that had been used on Simber to keep him virtually indestructible, the act of scraping a wider tunnel through rock had scratched him up a bit. He had a spot on each shoulder that had worn down, and the tips of his wings were marred. But the injuries appeared to be superficial, and, after licking them a bit, he was soon ready to proceed into the madness.
They could hear it—the sounds of complete chaos coming from the top of the ramp. Had the dragons made it out? When Thatcher, Seth, and Carina were ready to go, they climbed on Simber’s back once more. Then Seth spied Thisbe’s rucksack near one of the dragon stalls. He ran over and snatched it up, strapped it to his back, and returned to his spot.
The cheetah had a few gruff instructions for them. “One,” he began, “don’t fall off me. Two, if you’rrre about to fall off, don’t. Arrre we clearrr?”
“Yes, Simber,” they all said. Seth vowed to hang on to the cheetah’s neck and never let go.
“All rrright. Let’s get out of herrre.” The great cat looked over his shoulder to make sure his human cargo was secure, then crouched and sprang for the ramp, tearing up it at full speed, taking the corners as though they didn’t exist. Seth squeezed his eyes shut and held tightly as they swayed.
Soldiers charged, but Simber batted at them with his wings or butted them with his head and didn’t slow down. Before long he was trampling the ones who wouldn’t get out of the
way. As soon as the Artiméans came to the entryway, Simber spread his wings wide, knocking more soldiers down, and began flapping. They rose up out of reach and sailed toward the exit.
“The dragons made it out!” exclaimed Seth.
“It appearrrs so,” said Simber, pleased.
“Close the drawbridge!” someone royal bellowed to the entry soldier. “Bring down the portcullis!”
“Uh-oh,” muttered Thatcher.
A second later, the pointy iron stakes of the portcullis began to descend.
“Oooh boy,” muttered Seth. “Hurry, Simber!”
Simber flapped harder. The portcullis kept dropping.
“Hurry!” shouted Carina.
“Flatten yourrrselves!” cried Simber. “We’rrre not stopping now!”
The three passengers did as they were told, all of them imagining what it might feel like to be stabbed into the ground. Seth could feel the familiar panic well up inside him. He couldn’t control any of this. Desperately he pushed the feelings back and told himself he could panic later if he still needed to. But not now. The feelings didn’t listen, and his chest tightened even more.
As they raced toward the lowering gate, Simber dove. “Hang on!” he roared. The people below ran for cover. When Simber reached the portcullis, he stretched his wings wide. Just in time he ducked his head and glided under, his stomach scraping the ground.
The stakes missed Seth and Carina. But one caught the collar of Thatcher’s shirt. Thatcher was violently yanked off Simber’s back and thrown to the ground under the portcullis. He looked up. The sharp iron points were about to run him through. He screamed and rolled away, his shirt ripping down the back. The portcullis clanged shut ominously, with Thatcher just barely safe on the outside.
“Whoa,” Thatcher said under his breath. He felt paralyzed for a moment, but the outdoor soldiers charged toward him and he sprang to life.
“We’rrre coming back arrround!” Simber roared. He rose up in the air and circled, then dove back down and snatched Thatcher as gently as possible in his claws. Lifting him up, he flew over the moat to safety.