Without worrying about who was watching, he raised the ax high in the air, then let it fall. The glass shattered and an alarm went off—yet more noise added to the cacophony.
The sword felt better in his hand than the ax did, which is mostly to say it wasn’t quite as heavy. Clay slashed experimentally through the air once in each direction. He hated the thought that the sword had killed dragons; nonetheless, wielding it was almost, well, fun—or would have been in other circumstances.
“Hey, easy with that, Sir Lancelot!” said Cass. “At least give me the ax if you’re gonna be swinging that sword around.”
As she took the ax from him, there was a huge thundering BOOM! that made them all cry out. The building shook as if there’d been an earthquake.
“In there!” Cass shouted. All three of them lunged for the Ryū Room as another BOOM! rocked the castle.
The Wandsworths were at their table near the bar, playing cards as if there were nothing untoward going on. Two terrified-looking staff members sat opposite them. As one made to get up, Mrs. Wandsworth put her hand on his.
“Tut, tut. You know nobody moves until the game is done.”
Mr. Wandsworth nodded in agreement, then helped himself to a generous pour of mead from the big keg sitting on the bar.
A gigantic ROAR nearly split everyone’s ears.
Clay, Satya, and Cass dove under the closest cocktail table.
Around them, priceless ceramic vases started shattering one by one, as if they were being shot by a sniper. Artwork fell from the walls. Bottles toppled from the bar to the floor, until the bar itself crumpled.
Finally, the shaking stopped. Clay opened one eye, then the other. Cass and Satya were looking around, too.
Just in time to see a column buckle and an entire wall crumble. The room was literally collapsing around them.
“What happened?” Satya whispered.
“It’s like a bomb went off,” said Clay.
Cass crawled out from under the table. “Sturdy little thing, this table.”
Clay and Satya crawled out after Cass and stood up in the rubble. Half of the castle was gone. Where the roof had fallen in, they could see a starry sky.
Not far away, the Wandsworths and their bridge partners were still seated at their table, but they were now covered with dust and plaster.
“That was the best hand I’ve had in ninety years!” Mrs. Wandsworth complained. “What do you mean, the game is forfeit?!”
“Maybe you’d prefer to have a dragon as a partner,” said her husband, pointing.
Everyone turned and stared. Where the marble foyer used to be, Rover was now sitting on a pair of massive hind legs, tongue lolling out, as usual. The dragon looked at them hungrily. If only I had some of that honeycomb now, Clay thought.
“The mead!” he shouted to the Wandsworths. “Give the dragon some mead.”
“What? We will do no such thing,” said Mrs. Wandsworth, offended. “Do you know what happened to my shih tzus when they got into the champagne?”
But Clay wasn’t paying attention; he had grabbed the keg of mead himself and was now dropping it in front of Rover—not too close, of course, but close enough.
“Here, Rover. You’ll like this; it’s made with honey.”
While Rover sniffed curiously, Clay unscrewed the lid of the keg, leaving what for the dragon would be a smallish bowl of mead. Then he hopped away.
Seconds later, the dragon was happily lapping up the mead, as predicted. But all too soon the keg was empty. Rover picked it up and started drunkenly shaking it, hoping for more.
As Clay tried to think of other ways to divert the dragon’s attention, a shadow crossed over the moon and Rover pulled up short.
Rooooooooooaaaaaaawrrrr!!!
It was Rover’s black-and-blue boss, Bluebeard. Responding to some secret signal, Rover started backing away out of the ruins of the castle and into the courtyard. With apparent difficulty, the dragon then spread its wings and jumped into the air, bumping into the dragon fountain on the way, but eventually catching flight.
For a moment all was quiet. Leaving the Wandsworths and their hapless bridge partners behind, Clay, Cass, and Satya gingerly picked their way through the rubble.
The moonlit courtyard appeared to be empty save for the bronze dragons in the fountain, silhouetted against the purple evening sky. Had Bluebeard gone somewhere else? Is that why Rover had been called away?
They stepped cautiously into the courtyard and looked around. Then all three screamed at once.
“Run!”
Bluebeard had not gone away but was merely circling above, waiting to strike. And now the dragon was diving straight for them.
They headed to the jungle for cover, but they weren’t fast enough.
“Aaaayyh!” Cass screamed. A wing talon ripped her sleeve off as Bluebeard flew past her.
“Are you okay?” Clay shouted.
“Yes!” Cass said, but Clay could see blood on her arm. “Where’s Satya?” she asked.
They looked around. The dragon had landed in front of the fountain—separating them from Satya. She was backed up against one of the castle’s few remaining walls.
Bluebeard blew a puff of smoke in Satya’s face, toying with her.
Not fully aware of what he was doing, Clay raised DragonSlayer over his head and barreled toward Bluebeard.
“Get away from her, or deal with this!” he yelled, with what you might fairly call foolish courage.
Bluebeard’s neck craned around, and the dragon looked at Clay. For a moment it seemed like Clay’s words were sinking in. Was it possible that the huge beast was afraid of the little sword? But then Bluebeard let out a scornful roar and swung at Clay. Just in time, Clay squatted down, out of the way, while holding DragonSlayer aloft with both hands.
Bluebeard’s shriek was bloodcurdling.
The dragon thrashed around in pain, then gave another cry and fell on its side, shuddering.
Clay watched in surprise. Had he sliced into Bluebeard’s belly without realizing it? He examined the blade in his hands; there was no blood.
Then Satya pointed—
“I told you he would come.”
Behind Bluebeard stood Vicente, holding a familiar weapon. Clay glanced back at the dragon. A red feather—the end of a tranquilizer dart—poked out of the side of Bluebeard’s belly where the scales were smooth and thin.
“Satya!” Vicente yelled. Satya took off for her father, hugging him tightly.
“That horrid scientist told me they couldn’t breathe fire!” Ms. Mauvais appeared out of nowhere, lit by the glow of the fountain, shouting at no one in particular. “I specifically requested nonflammable dragons!” For the first time, a smudge appeared on her perfect face, and there was even a little rip in her otherwise immaculate dress.
Suddenly, her focus shifted from the unconscious dragon lying on the ground to the other humans in the courtyard.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said to Vicente. “Shoot them, too!”
Vicente glared at her. “Satya is my daughter!”
“Cassandra and the boy, then,” responded Ms. Mauvais impatiently. “It’s just a tranquilizer gun—there’s no need for melodrama!”
“I’m out of darts.” Vicente held up the gun as if demonstrating that it was empty.
“Do I have to do everything myself? Don’t let them go.” Scowling, Ms. Mauvais quickly disappeared into the ruins.
“You’re not really out of darts, are you, Dad?” asked Satya.
Clay looked from Bluebeard to Vicente. “Well, I guess you showed Bluebeard who was boss after all.”
“No, it was just a lucky shot,” said Vicente. “We all could have been killed easily. Looks like you were right about the fire-breathing. And maybe about the way I’ve been training them, as well.”
Clay didn’t say anything. He figured it must be hard for a guy like Vicente to admit he was wrong, and Clay didn’t want to push it.
“I’m go
ing to see about getting the dome operational again—you may not like those collars, but right now they’re our only hope,” said Vicente. “You guys stay out of sight.”
As her father ran off, Satya noticed Cass’s arm. It was covered in blood. “What happened? Do we need to do something with that?”
“Probably—I’m losing a lot of blood,” said Cass, her face very pale. Her voice was calm and matter-of-fact, but it was obvious that she was in a great deal of pain.
“Okay,” said Clay, trying hard to remain as calm as Cass was. “What do we do?”
“Can one of you rip off my other sleeve for me?”
Methodically, Cass talked her companions through the making of a tourniquet.
They were just about finished when they heard Ms. Mauvais’s voice: “Don’t move.”
She had returned, this time with Gyorg. He was pointing a gun at them. Not a tranquilizer gun. A machine gun.
Looking like a warrior with her sleeveless shirt and bloody armband, Cass stepped in front of Clay and Satya and addressed her age-old adversary, Antoinette Mauvais.
“Go ahead, kill us. You’ve killed so many—what are a few more?” Cass said, her voice surprisingly strong. “But you’ll never win. You know that, right? Even if you get to the Other Side. Because the one place you can really live forever is the one place where you’ll never find a home.”
“Oh, where is that?” said Ms. Mauvais carelessly.
“In someone else’s heart.”
For a moment Ms. Mauvais just stared at her, and it almost seemed as though Cass’s words had struck a nerve, but the woman quickly recovered. “How long have you been waiting to give that little greeting card of a speech? Gyorg, get rid of them. For good this time.”
Her cold tinkling laugh was soon lost in a deafening ROARRRRR!
Another dragon was entering the fray, but this roar was new and unfamiliar. Unfamiliar to everyone except Clay, that is.
He would have known that roar anywhere.
Bearing down on them, making right for the courtyard in front of the crumbling castle, was Ariella.
FROM Secrets of the Occulta Draco; or, The Memoirs of a Dragon Tamer
We humans are pathetic creatures. Sniveling crybabies, every one of us. Other species are weaned in months, at most a few years; we cling to our parents all the way into our teens, and sometimes even longer.
Dragons, though they live to a much older age than we do, grow up much faster. They are extremely independent creatures. Even in birth. Neither male nor female, they reproduce alone. A dragon simply lays an egg, and once laid, the egg does not need to be sat upon or cared for in any way.
Dragons do not have the same ideas about parenthood and family that we do. When a dragon hatches, it may wander around on its own for days, perfectly content. And yet an adult dragon would never leave a baby dragon entirely to its own devices. The young are considered a group responsibility, and baby dragons are schooled in the Dragon Way by older, mentor dragons.
The Dragon Way is something like a language and something like a moral code, but mainly it is something we cannot understand because we are not dragons. In dragon communities, all dragons are equal; there are no rulers. The Dragon Way makes this kind of egalitarian society possible. A dragon who does not follow the Dragon Way is referred to as a Lost One and is an object of scorn and pity for other dragons.
Of course, since humans do not follow the Dragon Way, we also are objects of scorn and pity.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
THE ARRIVAL OF ARIELLA
Clay never saw Ms. Mauvais slip away with Gyorg, and he didn’t care where they’d gone. For the moment, even Cass and Satya were invisible to him. He only had eyes for the gentle—or gentle-ish—giant that was now landing in front of them. Never in his life had he been so grateful to see another living creature, human, dragon, or otherwise.
He ran up to Ariella, ready to throw his arms around the dragon’s neck. Yet something in Ariella’s demeanor stopped him from taking the liberty.
He settled for a smile and an enthusiastic hand wave; you couldn’t shake hands with a dragon, after all.
“Hey, Ariella,” he said awkwardly. “Thanks, uh, for coming.”
There was no return greeting, only silence. Ariella’s coloring, which was naturally a pale gray, tended to change along with the dragon’s mood and environment. At the moment, it looked like a dark storm cloud was passing over the dragon, even though the sky above was clear.
This was not the reunion Clay had imagined.
His leg started to jiggle with anxiety. Did Ariella not remember him? Had Ariella not come to save him?
Ariella looked from Clay to the inert dragon lying on the ground. Bluebeard’s eyes were closed, but an expression of outrage was frozen on the dragon’s face.
Who did this?
Clay felt Ariella’s fury. It was a deep dragon anger.
Did a human do this?
Desperately, Clay tried to think of a way to respond. Yes, but the dragon deserved it? Yes, but the dragon is only unconscious, not dead?
Before Clay could say anything aloud, there was a low rumbling growl that seemed to shake the ground. Bluebeard was waking up.
Clay exchanged glances with Cass and Satya. Uh-oh. They each took a step back.
Groggily, Bluebeard opened an eye and started to stretch. Then all the dark steely scales on the dragon’s back seemed to rise at once, like hackles on a rooster: Bluebeard had noticed Ariella.* With a quick shake, the no-longer-sleepy dragon pushed itself to its feet.
Seeing Bluebeard waken, Ariella made a low sonorous sound, almost like a whale call, that Clay sensed meant something like Hail, fellow dragon. And then the old dragon bent its neck, lowering its head almost all the way to the ground, in what was unmistakably a gesture of courtesy and respect, though not at all of submission.
Growling, Bluebeard regarded the newcomer suspiciously. Why does this big interloper look so much like me? Bluebeard’s eyes seemed to say. And what are they getting at with this bowing business? It must be a trap.
Then, with no warning but a snarl, Bluebeard pounced—taking advantage of Ariella’s posture to go straight for Ariella’s neck.
“No!” Clay cried.
If you’ve ever watched another dog attack yours, then you know a little bit how Clay felt. (Not that a dragon is anything like a dog! And not that Ariella belonged to Clay! But… oh, just forget I made the comparison.)
Ariella was taken by surprise but was strong and fast enough to throw off Bluebeard before the attacker’s teeth penetrated the scales on Ariella’s neck.
Once free, Ariella barked at Bluebeard—a fast and furious reprimand—then blew a warning plume of fire into the sky. To Clay, the meaning was clear: Ariella was giving the ornery young dragon a chance to apologize to an elder, and quickly. If not, it would be war.
Bluebeard hissed in response. No apologies for this dragon.
Never taking its eyes off Ariella, the mean, unrepentant dragon whipped its tail in the air, making a loud crack. Then, dark wings flapping, Bluebeard lifted off the ground and hovered low over the courtyard, baiting Ariella to follow.
Ariella just watched. The seconds ticked by.
Growing impatient, Bluebeard screeched threats to Ariella, then finally unleashed a long rope of fire. Ariella jumped out of the way, blocking the fire with the wave of a wing.
Clay, Satya, and Cass huddled under the one small overhang that remained amid the castle ruins.
“What do I do?” asked Clay, stricken. “I can’t just let—”
Suddenly, Bluebeard dropped from the air; at the very same time, Ariella reared up, talons flashing. For a moment, they both stood on their hind legs, eyes wild. They looked much like the two bronze dragons standing in the fountain behind them.
Ariella roared, a loud, bellowing roar, and then attacked, swiping Bluebeard’s neck with a long, sharp talon and then sweeping Bluebeard’s legs with the full weight of a twelve-fo
ot-long tail. Bluebeard stumbled but quickly stood up again, spitting with fury. The two dragons bared their teeth at each other, then joined in movements so quick the dragons became a blur. One second they were in the air, flying at each other. The next second they were on the ground, wrestling.
For a while they appeared evenly matched: Ariella’s size and experience versus Bluebeard’s energy and youth. But there was something that Bluebeard had that Ariella lacked: the instinct to kill. When it seemed they might fight forever, Bluebeard let out a roar and sent a fireball bigger than any Clay had ever seen, directly at Ariella’s chest. The older dragon dodged as best it could, but a shoulder and part of a wing caught the full force of the flame.
Ariella staggered backward in pain.
“Ariella!” Clay shouted, panic-stricken. “Are you okay?”
Clay raised DragonSlayer in the air, but before he could even consider using it, Ariella rebuked him.
Stay away! You are never to strike a dragon, even one who would hurt us.
Clay looked back at Satya, but she was looking up, preoccupied with something in the sky. She put two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle.
Suddenly, something was spiraling toward them. Another dragon?
No, too small.
Before anybody could tell what was happening, a certain gray falcon had dive-bombed into the dragon fight and was flying straight for Bluebeard’s eye.
Clay cheered. “Go, Hero!”
Confused and infuriated, Bluebeard thrashed this way and that, trying to bat the falcon away. Undaunted, Hero pecked and pecked at the screaming dragon.
Ariella watched from a safe distance. (A human was not allowed to attack a dragon, but a bird—this, it seemed, Ariella would allow.)
Finally, Hero let out a victorious squawk and flew high into the air, leaving Bluebeard with a bloody mess where a big yellow eye had been. The half-blind dragon continued to spin around in pain, seemingly afraid that the falcon would return at any second.