The Lost Lands Read online

  “We have to stitch him up,” said Sirin, who was remarkably the calmest of them all.

  “We can’t waste time!” Allie said. “Valkea must know she wounded Lysander badly. They’ll anticipate we landed nearby. It’s just a matter of time before they find us.”

  “He can’t fly like this!” Joss snapped, still clutching his own stomach. Lysander, Lysander! Stay with me! “Can’t you see he’s dying?”

  “The Silver will not die,” said a tired voice in dragonsong. “And this will help.”

  They turned to see a scaled head sticking out of the water, resting on the rock. Bellacrux snarled, as if angry she hadn’t noticed the newcomer swim up.

  But it was no Raptor; it was Ash. The rest of his body was beneath the water, rocked by the splashing waves. The Blue Grand looked bone-weary as he laid a mouthful of wet seaweed on the stone. At once a pungent odor washed over them, reeking like rotten eggs mixed with fresh dragon dung.

  Allie gagged. “What is that stuff?”

  “Athelantis,” Ash said. “From the deepest chasm beneath the Blue islands. We were gathering it for our own, when I smelled Silver blood in the water and followed it here. The plant will accelerate Lysander’s healing, though it will be a few days until he is back to normal.”

  “Fetero, mel elon,” rumbled Bellacrux. Thank you, old friend.

  Joss held tight to Lysander as Allie and Sirin gathered the athelantis. The large, papery leaves were the color of blood, and the horrible smell made the girls’ eyes water. They held their breaths so that they breathed it in as little as possible. Following Ash’s instructions, they then used stones to grind the leaves to pulp, then carefully applied that to the gashes on Lysander’s belly.

  Despite the stomach-wrenching stink of the plant, it worked like a miracle. At once Joss felt relief, like cool water running over a burn. Lysander sighed, and Joss felt his Lock’s mind relax at last. He pulled the Silver’s head onto his lap and stroked his nose, the way he’d done when Lysander had first hatched.

  Joss?

  Lysander! I’m here!

  Oh, it hurt, Joss. It hurt so badly.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Joss leaned over and rested his forehead against his dragon’s. I know. I felt your pain, my friend. Is it better now?

  Yes … but is it really worth smelling like a human latrine? Lysander stuck out his tongue in disgust at the stench.

  Joss laughed aloud, wiping a tear from his eye. Lysander would be all right.

  “What of the battle?” Bellacrux asked Ash in dragonsong. “Is it over?”

  “The Blues have fallen,” Ash replied grimly. “We lost … many. And the Raptors claimed our hatchlings. All is in ruin, old friend. I should have listened to you sooner.”

  As Ash talked, Joss realized that the old Blue was covered in burns and gashes even worse than Lysander’s. His wings were tattered and broken. The ocean water around him was turning red with blood. How had Ash managed to swim this far in such a state?

  “You’re hurt!” Allie said, as if she’d noticed Ash’s injuries the same moment as Joss. “Climb up on the rock, and I’ll put athelantis on you too.”

  “Save it for the Silver,” said Ash. He seemed unable to even lift his head without great effort.

  “Will you be able to fly home?” asked Allie.

  Ash said nothing. Joss glanced at Bellacrux and saw the answer in the Green’s pained eyes: Ash would not fly again.

  The Blue Grand was dying.

  Bellacrux must have communicated this thought to Allie too, because all at once her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hands.

  Why did he come all this way for me? Lysander wondered, still too weak to voice the words himself. So Joss asked Ash the question for him.

  “Your clan must need you,” he added. “And you need healing yourself.”

  “I came because I realize now that Bellacrux was right,” Ash said. “The Raptors are corrupted to their bones. They must be stopped, at any cost. Even if it means drawing on the darkest powers.”

  “The Skyspinner’s Heart,” said Bellacrux gently. “Is there anything else you know that might help us find it?”

  “I know only that it must lie in the Lost Lands. And … I know where you might find out more.” Ash lifted his head and looked back, in the direction of the continent. “But it will mean venturing deep into Raptor territory, to the very heart of their scorched lands.”

  Joss’s hand involuntarily tightened on Lysander’s left horn. He didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all.

  “Wait a minute,” said Bellacrux. “You mean …”

  Ash nodded. “I mean you must go to Tashiva Lhaa.”

  Joss paused as he translated for Sirin. “Does … that mean what I think it means?”

  “What does it mean?” asked Sirin. “What’s he saying?”

  “Tashiva Lhaa,” Joss repeated. “In dragonsong, it means killer library.”

  “Killer library!” Sirin gave a short, bewildered laugh. “It’s probably not meant literally.”

  “Oh,” said Allie, sharing a look with her Lock. “Bellacrux says it’s definitely meant literally.”

  “A library that wants to kill us?” Joss shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

  Bellacrux explained: “Tashiva Lhaa is the oldest place in this world. It contains records of ancient dragon history, but the ones who built it designed it to … discourage visitors. They didn’t want the information within to fall into Raptor claws, so at the slightest sign of trouble, it’s said the library destroys anyone inside. Few have entered and returned again. I thought the Raptors had destroyed it centuries ago, angry they couldn’t seem to get past the library’s defenses.”

  “What defenses?” asked Sirin, after Joss translated for her.

  Bellacrux gave the dragon equivalent of a shrug.

  “Ash, do you know—” Joss stopped. He stared at the rock where Ash’s head had been. But there was no sign of the Blue Grand. No sign at all, but a last swirl of dark red blood on the water.

  Ash was gone.

  Truly gone.

  Above Joss, perched on her high rock, Bellacrux raised her head and released a keening, mournful roar.

  D’Mara flung herself from Krane’s back in a fury, her metal-tipped boots clacking as they hit the stone floor of the Fortress Lennix landing yard.

  Foiled again!

  Sure, they’d found the Blue hideout, decimated the clan, stolen the eggs and youngest hatchlings. Sure, by any other standard, the raid would be counted a massive success.

  But they had lost the Silver.

  Again.

  All the eggs in the world wouldn’t make up for that. How was she supposed to feed these new Raptors anyway? They might as well have dumped the eggs into the sea, and the hatchlings too. Without the Silver to open the way to the Lost Lands, they would all starve. And with every passing day that she failed to deliver on her promise, her control over the Raptors weakened further. Valkea made sure of that.

  There were some days when D’Mara felt like there was a giant clock ticking over her head, counting down until the day she became some Raptor’s dinner.

  “Edward!” She grabbed her husband by his collar as he walked past her. “Where are you going?”

  He scowled. “We flew all night, dearest. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “Bed! Dragon’s teeth, I am surrounded by fools and sluggards!” With unnecessary harshness fueled by her fury, she grabbed his pointy goatee and gave it a sharp tug. “Prepare the Fifth Flight for a supply run. We need provisions and we need them now. I want sheep, goats, pigs—I don’t care. If it walks, they are to pick it up and bring it back. Alive, preferably.”

  Raptors liked their meat as fresh as possible.

  Edward hurried away to comply, and D’Mara headed into the Roost. She snapped at Kaan to fetch servants for the after-raid cleansing. The Raptors were perfectly capable of licking the dried blood and gore from their own claws and scales, but some
liked to bask in the sun while humans did the work for them. Kaan groaned but obeyed.

  “Nothing but disrespect and rolling eyes around here,” D’Mara muttered under her breath.

  She felt a feathery touch from Krane’s mind; no words, only a soothing pat. Usually it was enough to calm her, but today she was more irritable than usual. She brushed her Lock’s touch away.

  Keep an eye on that Zereth and his cohorts. I don’t trust him. He’s Valkea’s creature.

  I am always watching, Dee.

  D’Mara paused on the upper loggia of the Roost, her hands on the balustrade as she gazed out over the mountains. They’d been flying the entire day, and now the sun had begun to set. It burned like a golden coin, melting behind the peaks. It was a lovely sight, and it filled her soul with wistful aching.

  What if we just left? she sent to Krane. Followed the sunset and never looked back. Forget them all.

  Dee? That’s not like you.

  She sighed. It wasn’t like her, neither the daydreaming nor the thoughts of running away. But the idea was tempting.

  What’s the point? she asked Krane. My own family doesn’t respect me anymore. The Raptors are turning against me. The Silver continues to elude capture. Why bother with the lot of them at all?

  Her Lock’s reply came smoothly. You know why. Or have you forgotten?

  No. She had not forgotten.

  When D’Mara had been a girl, everything had been simpler. Her mother, Felda Lennix, had run the fortress and overseen the Raptors. When D’Mara was ten years old, Felda had locked her in a maze of stone chambers with a starved, infuriated Raptor.

  “There are only two kinds of people in the world: Raptors and sheep. Time to decide which one you are,” she’d said to her daughter, then she’d shut the door.

  D’Mara had dodged, scurried, and wept as the hungry dragon had pursued her through the chambers, sure that she would die. Then, in the very last room, she’d found a servant man scrubbing the floor. Her Lennix instincts sharpened at the sight of him, and she lured him into the next room, where the dragon was lurking. In exchange for the Raptor’s mercy, she offered the servant as a snack. When the Raptor’s agreement had come, it had been like a thought in her own mind, a strange whisper curling through her skull.

  That had been the day she’d Locked with Krane. He’d always told her that that old servant had been the best meal he’d ever had.

  This was why D’Mara couldn’t fly off into the sunset and leave her disrespectful, ungrateful clan behind.

  Because her mother had shown her that in this world or any other, the only law that mattered was this: Either you take control and be a Raptor too, or you get eaten with the other sheep.

  Raptors would always be Raptors. You could either join them, or be crushed beneath their talons. D’Mara knew which she’d rather choose, because she already had chosen—the day she’d fed that servant man to Krane. The day she’d betrayed her own species in order to save herself. She didn’t just lead the Raptors.

  She was a Raptor.

  D’Mara straightened and turned away from the sunset. She had work to do.

  She had a Silver to capture.

  Tamra put her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the Silver scale. It was cold now, and no longer sparking with lightning-white energy, but it still filled Tamra with buzzing energy. She hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone about what had happened to her and Valkea yet. Mirra had sensed something was up, but Tamra wouldn’t spill a word. She couldn’t risk anyone else telling D’Mara about the scale before she did. This was her secret, and it was a powerful secret indeed.

  It was a secret that could change everything for the Lennixes. It would solve their food shortage, their endless search for the Silver, the discontent among the ranks, their resentment of D’Mara and thus all the Lennixes. And it would be Tamra who delivered all of this into her mother’s hands.

  But first, Tamra had to find D’Mara and tell her the news. She searched the crèche, where the newly procured Blue eggs were being installed on beds of hay by terrified human servants. The servants cringed when Tamra came in, ducking behind hay bales or dropping to their knees, trembling. Normally Tamra would delight in such a reception, and might have found time to torment them further by walking around as if deciding who to feed to Valkea, but not today. Today she was on a mission, perhaps the most important mission she’d ever had.

  D’Mara wasn’t in the crèche. She wasn’t in the hatchlings’ rooms either, where Kaan was lecturing the petrified littlest Blues about the Raptor way of life. Later that day, Tamra knew, a human servant would be chosen as a sacrifice, to give the hatchlings their first taste of human blood—an important and crucial step in a young dragon’s first steps toward becoming a Raptor. It was always one of Tamra’s favorite moments, and normally she’d demand to be in charge of the First Blood ceremony.

  But not today.

  Finally, coming to a halt in the dining hall—another dead end—Tamra threw back her head and yelled, “Where in the blazes IS that old—”

  “Hello, Tamra,” said D’Mara icily.

  Tamra spun, and there her mother stood in the doorway, a dangerous look in her eyes.

  “Ma, I have to talk to you. In private.” She glared at Mirra, whom she now glimpsed hovering in the hall outside, trying to eavesdrop.

  “I don’t have time for you right now,” D’Mara said, sounding more like herself. “I’ve got to choose a sacrifice for the First Blood ceremony, and figure out how to feed everyone tomorrow since those stupid Raptors are devouring all—”

  “I’ve been to the Lost Lands.”

  D’Mara stared at her, then slowly her face began to contort into disgust. “I will not tolerate—”

  “I’m not lying!” Tamra shouted. Then, lowering her voice once more, she added, “It happened during the Blue raid—one minute, Valkea and I were flying through the storm. The next, we were in a clear blue sky over a silver city, just like the one Kaan described when the Silver took him through the portal. All thanks to this.” She took the Silver scale from her pocket and held it up.

  She could tell her mother was deciding whether or not to believe her.

  “I can prove it,” said Tamra, a little desperately. “Meet me tonight atop your tower with Krane. We’ll fly up and I’ll show you. Ma, don’t you see? If I’m right—and I am—then this changes everything!”

  “All right, then.” D’Mara looked like she wanted to believe Tamra, but still couldn’t quite manage it. “Prove it.”

  * * *

  They flew in silence for several minutes, Krane and Valkea gliding on the rough winds that buffeted the peaks of the Black Mountains. Fortress Lennix vanished behind them, the glow of its lamps and braziers soon swallowed up by the shadowy summits. The air was freezing cold this high up, and flakes of snow stuck to Tamra’s eyelashes and the fur fringe of her cloak. Behind a thick layer of cloud, the moon was a watery, pale smudge.

  Her mother led the way, and once they were out of sight of the fortress, she and Krane halted. The Raptor hovered on powerful wingbeats as Tamra took the scale from her pocket. She let out a long breath that misted white in front of her.

  Are you ready? she asked Valkea.

  Let’s do this.

  Tamra clung tight to the scale as her Lock pulled away from Krane. Valkea began to fly in a widening circle, looping outward to cover every inch of sky in the vicinity. Portals, it seemed, were plentiful enough, though invisible. It hadn’t taken Kaan long to find one atop the Silver, and Tamra and Valkea had fallen right into one during the raid. So she hoped they would get lucky again here, tonight.

  “C’mon,” she whispered to the scale. “Don’t let me down.”

  She felt D’Mara’s eyes on her, her mother’s gaze hard with doubt and scorn. But that was nothing new. That was just how her mother was, how she’d always been. Judgmental, cruel, cold. Nothing Tamra ever did was good enough. When her mother noticed her at all, it was always to critic
ize or scold.

  Tamra hated her.

  But Tamra also longed, desperately, to win her approval.

  And this was how she would do it: by delivering to D’Mara the one thing she desired most. Tamra would give her the key to the Lost Lands, an even better key than the Silver himself, because the scale did not need persuasion or threats to work. The scale wouldn’t attempt to run away. And the scale didn’t come with a bratty, ungrateful sheep boy Locked to it. It was the perfect chance to finally show her mother that she, Tamra Lennix, was the best of her children.

  All she had to do was make the scale work again.

  But it would not.

  For an hour they searched the sky, Valkea roaming all around the peaks, Tamra clutching the scale, and they saw no sign of a portal to the Lost Lands. The scale never so much as tingled in her hands. Desperation and panic knotted up in her throat until she wanted to scream. Valkea too was growing frantic, flying faster and farther, snarling when Tamra told her to search some other area. She tried letting Valkea hold the scale, first in her talons, then her teeth.

  It’s no use, Valkea sent.

  It has to work! You know what we saw—you know it worked before!

  Perhaps the scale can only be used once. Perhaps we are missing some crucial step.

  “Enough!”

  Tamra turned to see her mother and Krane drawing abreast of Valkea. D’Mara’s expression was difficult to make out in the dark, but her anger was clear in her voice.

  “This is foolishness! I won’t waste another minute up here!”

  “Ma—”

  “I should never have let you talk me into this insanity. That scale is worthless, just like you.”

  Tamra bit her tongue as her mother’s Raptor wheeled away and swooped off in the direction of Fortress Lennix. The cold mountain winds burrowed deeper into her, until her very bones felt limned with frost.

  * * *

  Much later that night, when Tamra finally made her way to bed, she found Mirra awake, waiting for her.

  The twins still shared a room, despite many pleas to be given separate chambers. Their beds were set against one wall, with a little space between them, and on the other wall was set a small hearth. There, by a crackling fire, sat Mirra, wrapped in a blanket.