Scorch Dragons Read online

  “Never,” said Rayna. “I mean, they might have tried, but we’d have argued with them, don’t worry. And Leif’s right. Even the ones who don’t trust you will see that it’s better to have you where they can see you.”

  “Great,” Anders muttered, letting Rayna start him moving down the hallway again with a gentle push.

  “Overall, I think it went quite well,” Lisabet said. “As long as Leif’s protecting us, we’re safe, right?”

  “You should be,” Ellukka agreed. “But I wouldn’t give anyone a reason to mistrust you, that’s for sure. Leif’s in charge, but he’s still only one vote out of twenty-five.”

  The danger of their position hung over Anders’s head as they walked down the hallway, but at least they had a chance to stay here at Drekhelm. They’d bought themselves some time—or rather, Leif had bought it for them.

  Perhaps they could yet find a way to prove themselves to the dragons while keeping their pack safe. Perhaps the answer did lie with his icefire. If he could figure out how to create it again, could the threat of using it keep both the dragons and wolves from attacking each other? Would that give Rayna and him a safe place to live? He tucked that thought away for future consideration.

  “Where are we going now?” he asked as they turned a corner.

  “Mikkel and our friend Theo will be in the gardens,” Ellukka said. “We’ll go find them.”

  A question was nagging at Anders, but he wasn’t sure how to voice it.

  “Ellukka,” he said, and she looked back over her shoulder without breaking her stride. “I didn’t expect—Thank you for standing up for us in there.” He could hear his voice tilting upward at the end, the question unspoken but clear enough—But why did you do it?

  Ellukka shrugged, dismissing the thanks. “You’re Rayna’s brother,” she said. “If they sent you away or locked you up, she’d do something stupid, and then I’d have to get involved in that, and I have better things to do than chase around after one of Rayna’s plans.”

  Anders felt a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as Rayna elbowed Ellukka in the side. He’d wondered for a moment the day before if Rayna had made friends as close as he had while they were apart.

  But looking at the two of them side by side, he knew the answer. Outwardly, the two girls couldn’t be more different. Rayna had warm brown skin and curly black hair constantly trying to escape from her braids. Ellukka was a full head taller than the other girl, and she had pink-cheeked creamy skin and blond hair pulled into perfectly neat plaits that fell down in front of her broad shoulders. She was wider, heavier, and stronger than Anders’s sister. What they had in common was the same determined line to their mouths.

  If Ellukka liked Rayna enough to know about all her harebrained schemes and still want to stand up for her, then the answer to his question was yes—Rayna had definitely found at least one friend here.

  Perhaps he could too. He and Rayna had always found a way to live in Holbard, tucked into whatever attic or stable loft they could find, working together to keep themselves fed and warm. He’d managed at Ulfar, too, just as she had here. Now that they were together again, a team again, they could make another home.

  He didn’t have time to dwell on that, though, because Rayna was opening the door ahead of him, and he was catching an impossible glimpse of greenery.

  The sight before him made him think he must still be asleep back in the guest room, and that everything that had happened that morning had been a dream.

  He was in a large cave, with an opening leading out of the mountain, and a view beyond the cave mouth of snowy crags and dark rock stretching into the distance. But that wasn’t what caught his attention.

  Inside the cave there was lush green grass underfoot, and plants sprouted from every inch of the walls and ceiling. Long fern fronds swayed faintly in the breeze; thick bushes with shiny, dark-green leaves crowded together; small purple flowers peeked shyly from the gaps in between. The air was as warm against his skin as a summer’s day, and the whole cave was just as bright as one.

  Mikkel stood over where the cave opened out onto the mountainside, his tousled copper head together with another boy’s—perhaps this was Theo. He had the same light-brown skin as Viktoria—Anders felt a pang at the memory of his friend—and the same silky black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was thin, but his slender frame seemed to hold a kind of barely contained energy, and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet as the two boys talked.

  “Isn’t this place incredible?” Rayna asked with a grin as Ellukka strode toward the others. “It’s half mechanical invention, half artifact. There are artifact pumps that bring up heat from deep inside the mountain, and tucked in behind the plants are little tubes that carry water around, and those mirrors by the entrance relay the light in. A famous dragon created it all.”

  “Not all,” Lisabet said. “Not if there are artifacts here. A wolf must have helped as well.”

  Rayna dismissed that with a shrug, and by then they’d reached the two boys.

  “Made it through the Dragonmeet?” said Mikkel.

  “Just,” Ellukka told him.

  He mimed wiping sweat from his brow. “Anders, Lisabet, this is Theo, kidnapping victim and dragon, all in one piece as you can see.”

  Theo pulled one hand from his pocket, wiggling his fingers in a slightly awkward wave of greeting.

  “Were you scared?” Anders asked, wincing even as he said it. Of course Theo had been scared. But he probably didn’t want to offend the dragons by saying so.

  “Terrified,” Theo replied cheerfully. “But I think my ma knew what was happening. I can’t be sure, but she kind of looked at me when they grabbed me, and I just—I could see it in her eyes. I think she knew why the dragons were there, like maybe she knew something about our family, or suspected. And then she was kind of distracted by the fire in the stables.”

  “That was your house?” Now Anders’s eyebrows were up high. “Last equinox? Everyone heard about that when it burned down.”

  “That was an accident,” Mikkel said straight away.

  “It was,” Theo agreed. “And everyone was safe, the dragons checked.”

  “It’s a pretty serious accident,” Lisabet pointed out.

  Rayna, in that forceful way she spoke when she wanted to change the subject, changed the subject. “Mikkel studies history, he knows all about this garden.”

  Mikkel was diverted, immediately transferring his attention to the history of the place in a way that reminded Anders of Lisabet when she got her hands on a book about something interesting.

  “It was created by a dragon called Flic,” he said, turning to look out at the gardens. “At least five hundred years ago, maybe more. It’s part invention, part artifact, part . . . genius. They say she had a special gift with plants, knowing exactly where they should go, or coaxing them to grow in the most unlikely places.”

  “There’s a waterfall named for her over on the west coast,” Ellukka said. “I went there with Leif and my father once, and I’ve studied her in class. There are all kinds of things growing there, and they say she had her workshop out that way, long ago.”

  “What kinds of classes do you all take?” Lisabet asked. “They were talking about the Finskól just now, and it sounded like some kind of school.”

  “You’re joining the Finskól?” Mikkel looked impressed, and Theo, pleased.

  Ellukka nodded confirmation. “They were about to vote to throw them out or lock them up. Leif claimed them for the Finskól at the last second, it was all he could do.”

  “Sparks and scales,” Theo murmured. “Pretty sure that didn’t go down well.”

  “Not really,” Ellukka agreed, turning to the two wolves. “There’s twelve of us now, including you two. Rayna and I, Theo and Mikkel are all Finskólars. Leif’s the teacher.”

  “The dragons don’t have big schools like Ulfar Academy,” Rayna explained. “Mostly their parents just teach them, and some dragons
run small schools for groups of students they choose. They start schools because they’re particularly good at something, usually. And of course the Drekleid always runs the Finskól. Saphira and Mylestom—you saw them on the Dragonmeet—they graduated from the Finskól last year, and the younger dragons worked together to elect them to the Dragonmeet. The Drekleid is the only person who can decide who’s a Finskólar, and nobody can overrule him. Going to the Finskól is a sign you’re going to really be somebody.”

  Anders’s mouth felt dry. The last thing he wanted—the last thing he could imagine—was to be somebody. All he wanted was a safe place to live, and there was nothing safer than anonymity.

  “Everyone in the Finskól chooses their own area to study,” Rayna continued. “Or has their own reason for being there. Leif chose me because he said I was quick-thinking, and I’ll have to choose what area to study in a little while, but right now I’m just working on my reading and writing.”

  “I’m learning storytelling,” Ellukka said. “Stories are powerful. They can teach people, change their minds, make them laugh, or cry, or remember, or forget. So I’m learning about how to tell them, as well as learning as many stories as I can.”

  “I’m history,” Mikkel said, with one of his smirks. “And there’s plenty of that.”

  “I’m research,” Theo added. “I’m only a few months in, but I’ve already learned so much. The records here are kind of a mess—for example, Mikkel and Ellukka aren’t even sure how long ago Flic lived, and they can’t easily look it up. Ellukka’s father, Valerius, is an archivist, but he spends most of his time dealing with the Dragonmeet these days. So my focus is going to be on how to keep better records, which is basically how to keep track of what we actually know and what we don’t. When the dragons moved here after the last great battle, everything got jumbled. There are whole storerooms full of artifacts in the archives that could hold anything.”

  Lisabet looked very approving of all these areas of study, but Anders felt a bit faint. He was terrible at reading and writing, and in his weeks at Ulfar he’d found every lesson a struggle. What was he going to do in a class for gifted students? He’d be found out as a fraud in no time. Then again, perhaps Leif already knew he wasn’t suitable—he’d only brought him in to keep him safe. It made sense for Rayna to be there—as Leif had already noticed, she was quick-thinking, always ready with a plan or an idea. Frankly, it was better to have Rayna on your side, where you could see her, than off somewhere causing trouble. But Anders?

  Still, he was in the safest place he could be, and he was grateful for that. If he wanted his icefire to show up again, if he wanted to protect himself and those he cared about, perhaps he could start by studying himself at the Finskól.

  The young dragons—or at least Ellukka, Mikkel, and Theo—seemed willing enough to welcome him and Lisabet into Drekhelm, albeit a bit cautiously. Leif’s approval evidently went a long way.

  Lisabet’s excitement at all there was to learn here was pushing her past her fear and worry, at least for now. But now that things were settled, Anders couldn’t help thinking of the looks on the faces of their packmates as they ran, and the frowns of the Dragonmeet as they’d stared down the two wolves in their midst. Was it possible they could be safe here? What would happen when Sigrid started to use the Snowstone?

  He’d been on a mission for weeks—first to get into Ulfar, then to figure out how to find Rayna, to get to her. He’d never really thought past making it to Drekhelm, and now he had a new challenge in making a home here. For now, he’d keep quiet and try to learn more about this place, and hope against hope a way forward presented itself.

  They’d always found a way to survive. They would now too.

  Anders and Lisabet didn’t attend the dragons’ equinox celebrations that night. It was one of the most important nights of the year for dragons, and for wolves. At the equinox, day and night were of equal length, and the magical essence found in nature—the essence that gave the wolves their ice spears and the scorch dragons their flame, that allowed both groups to make their transformations—was at its strongest. Lisabet had told Anders that the wolves celebrated the equinox quietly, with a night of reflection. The dragons, on the other hand, were famous for their parties.

  Leif sent word that he felt it would be best if they kept to their room, with so many dragons still unsure about two wolves—even wolves who had saved them in battle—staying at Drekhelm. Lisabet was disappointed, as she said it was a lost opportunity for cultural observation, but Anders didn’t mind. Leif was right—it was better to keep a low profile.

  Rayna and Ellukka showed up at Anders and Lisabet’s room just as the two wolves were starting to wonder about dinner, carrying plates laden with food from the feast: steaming fish spiced with chella, glossy buttered peas and orange and yellow carrots, dark-brown bread stacked on top of the vegetables. Rayna had little cakes as well, bright-yellow sponges made with sour cream, lavished with orange-flavored frosting.

  Ellukka had red ribbons braided through her hair, and Rayna . . . Rayna’s braids were gone. She’d cut her hair so it just brushed her shoulders, her curls springing free from their usual restraints.

  “You like it?” she said, tossing her head this way and that so Anders could look at it. “It was Ellukka’s idea, for the party.”

  “I . . .” He wasn’t sure what he thought. “It looks great,” he said automatically. But a small part of him he didn’t have time to examine felt strange about Rayna cutting her hair. She was different enough in her dragon’s clothes, without changing the face he’d known for years. And because Ellukka had suggested it?

  “Where do dragons get their food?” Lisabet asked around a mouthful, already eating. “You couldn’t grow it up here in the mountains.”

  “We trade,” Ellukka said, taking up position at the end of Lisabet’s bed. Rayna came over to sit on Anders’s bed with him. “The people we’re trading with don’t know we’re dragons, obviously. And we have farms as well. Mostly run by people whose parents were dragons, but who didn’t transform themselves. They don’t mind living away from the mountains, but of course they shouldn’t have to leave the community. They run farms in the Uplands, crew ships that sail out of Port Tylerd and Port Alcher. The oranges are grown in greenhouses near Port Baernor, in the southwest. Just like us, they follow the lives that call to them.”

  Anders ate his meal quickly, trying to make himself savor every bite, but so hungry he could barely slow down. It was as if his body was still recovering after throwing the icefire yesterday. With a small smile, Rayna broke her orange cake in two, and put one half on his plate.

  “Did the Dragonmeet talk all day?” Lisabet asked.

  “All day,” Ellukka confirmed. “Twenty-five people is a lot to have on a council, especially when you want everyone to have their say.”

  “And dragons always want everyone to have their say,” Rayna interjected. “It takes forever.”

  “Even with the Snowstone out there, probably in the hands of the Fyrstulf by now, they can’t hurry,” Ellukka said. “They’re trying to work out what she’s thinking.”

  Anders and Lisabet exchanged a quick glance—they still hadn’t admitted to anyone that Sigrid was Lisabet’s mother, and Anders felt a guilty tug about that. After all, he’d been furious when Lisabet had kept that from him. But at the same time, they didn’t need to give the dragons any more reason to doubt them than they already had. He was truly beginning to understand why Lisabet had lied about it.

  “What’s the party like?” he asked quickly, when he thought he saw Ellukka intercepting that glance.

  Rayna and Ellukka looked at each other. Rayna raised her eyebrows, and Ellukka laughed. “Want to see?” she asked. “There’s a secret spot where you can look down at the Great Hall, nobody will know. I go there sometimes to spy on them, when I’m trying to work out whether Father’s ever going to be done talking. You can’t tell anybody about it.”

  “We promise,” said Ande
rs, and Lisabet grinned.

  Five minutes later they’d finished their meals, and they were in the hallways of Drekhelm, ducking off through a side door to climb a narrow, winding staircase carved into the rock. It was barely big enough for a twelve-year-old, so it was hard to imagine how an adult could ever get up there.

  At the top was a little ledge. It looked as if it had just eough room for the four of them to pile in together like a pack of wolves settling down for the night, side by side and half on top of one another.

  “I’ll go first,” Ellukka whispered, grinning. “I’m bigger than you, I’ll squash you otherwise. Then Anders, he’s next biggest.”

  She crawled into the nook, and Anders went next to lie beside her, with Rayna and then Lisabet cramming in after to lie on top of them. There was a hole in the rock that gave them a view down to the Great Hall, and it was covered by a thin metal grate.

  “They think it’s ventilation up here,” Ellukka said.

  “I wish,” Rayna muttered, trying to get comfortable, and making an apologetic noise when she drove an elbow into Anders’s spine.

  But he didn’t mind. His gaze was fixed on the scene below. The huge double doors were flung open, the night sky visible beyond. In the Great Hall itself there was a bonfire, and musicians were standing on top of the Dragonmeet’s long table, playing guitars and fiddles and drums for all they were worth.

  The dragons were all in human form, and some were dancing around the fire, others talking in groups, eating and drinking. There was a kind of ferocity to the underlying energy of the room, as if their fear of the Snowstone, of the potential wolf attack, was driving them to greater, louder, more lively celebrations. Anders couldn’t say why, but he felt a little as though the figures below him were shouting and singing and dancing all the more wildly to defy their fear.

  In some ways, it was like the dancing he’d seen at year’s end in the streets of Holbard. In others, from the mountain visible beyond the doors to the bright colors of the clothing below, the many red dresses and tunics and cloaks—a dragon color, one rarely seen in the city—it felt completely foreign.