Scorch Dragons Read online

  Ferdie dropped through to see what Anders and the others were working on occasionally, just for fun. Bryn came by and showed them how words in different languages were sometimes the same as their own. Even Isabina looked up from her machines once in a while, though Krissin, Nico, and Patrik kept their distance. Always, Leif was there, sometimes teaching them himself, sometimes joining their conversation for a few minutes, guiding them toward a new idea or a new question.

  There were times when Anders was so fascinated by the stories he heard and the new ideas that piled into his brain, and so absorbed in his lessons, that he forgot he was a wolf among dragons. He forgot that it was only Leif’s invitation to the Finskól that was keeping him safe at all.

  Nevertheless, he began to learn his way around, and to think that Drekhelm really might be a place he and Rayna could live, if only they could fit in. The idea of he and his twin living anywhere—expecting their next meal without wondering where it would come from, putting on clean clothes every day—was still so strange he barely knew what to make of it.

  But each time he was nearly comfortable, an older dragon would scowl at him as he walked down the hallway, or Nico and Krissin would whisper to each other, staring at him as they did.

  Or Leif would leave the classroom to attend the Dragonmeet, and come back with a grim expression, or Anders would hear a murmur about the Snowstone. Most mornings Ellukka would show up at breakfast to report that her father said the Dragonmeet had met again the night before, talking and talking of what they might do about the possibility of wolf attack, without ever making any progress.

  Sooner or later, Sigrid would make her move, and Anders wished he knew what to do to be ready. More and more, he saw he had to do something—because nobody else would.

  One day nearly a week after his arrival at Drekhelm, Anders stayed back in the classroom at lunchtime to work on his latest lesson. Theo was on the other side of the table, trying to stop one of his giant stacks of records from falling over before he joined the others.

  “What’re you working on?” he asked Anders, experimentally letting go of his pile, and then grabbing it again when it started to topple.

  “I’m . . .” Anders wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m trying to learn how to learn, I guess. I have so many questions.”

  “Hey, that’s basically what I do,” Theo said, lighting up with a grin, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Theo was never short on energy. “Research, archives, figuring out where and how to store information so we can find it again when we need it, or even just figure out what questions to ask. I’m going to be a dragon librarian eventually. They really need one here at Drekhelm. What are you trying to figure out right now?”

  Anders looked across at the other boy, weighing his reply. Did he dare risk an honest answer? Perhaps he could—Theo might be happy at Drekhelm, but he had family back in Holbard, and surely he’d be worried about them.

  “I’m trying to figure out ten things at once,” Anders admitted. “I want badly to know what’s happening in Holbard. What Sigrid’s going to do with the Snowstone. What they’re all saying about Lisabet and me. I want to know who I am, and what I am.” The words kept tumbling out, and he found he couldn’t stop them. He didn’t even know what he was going to say next, until he found himself saying it. “I want to know what I should do. About the wolves, and the Snowstone. Because I don’t think the Dragonmeet’s going to do anything.”

  Theo nodded slowly. “All they ever do is talk,” he agreed quietly. “I’ve noticed too. And they don’t seem to understand that just because it’s the dragon way that doesn’t mean there’s time for it. If the wolves have the Snowstone and they know where we are, they’re not going to wait around forever to attack.”

  “Exactly,” Anders agreed. “But I have no idea what we can do, or what we should do. I thought maybe if I could figure out something about my icefire, I’d know how to protect us against it, but one wolf against an artifact that can affect the whole country?”

  “Well,” said Theo slowly. “I don’t have an answer for that. But maybe I can help you with the other questions. Come with me.”

  They shored up Theo’s stack of paper together and left the classroom, making their way through the hallways of Drekhelm toward the archives—the long series of caves filled with old files, records and books, artifacts and abandoned experiments, and creations left behind by generations long gone. The archives were a kind of combination library and storeroom, totally disorganized.

  “How could you ever find anything in there?” Anders asked, looking through the doorway to the next cave. “Everything’s everywhere.”

  “You’re telling me,” Theo agreed. “When they abandoned Old Drekhelm after the last great battle and moved here, they just hauled everything with them and dumped it, and I think everyone’s been too intimidated to go through it ever since. I’m probably going to spend the rest of my life on it, but I bet I’ll discover some amazing stuff. There are so many artifacts just lying around that nobody uses. I found one in the infirmary the other day being used as a paperweight! And it’s supposed to be for keeping pots of tea warm. And look at Rayna’s hairpins, they’re the perfect example of an artifact doing a mundane job. I don’t know what they’re for, but I bet there’s a record in here somewhere that would tell us, if we only knew where to look.”

  “Rayna’s hairpins?” Anders was momentarily distracted from how overwhelming the collection of books, artifacts, and records was. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, they’ve got runes on them,” Theo pointed out. “And they’re copper, right? They’ve got to be some kind of artifact.”

  Anders and Rayna had wondered that themselves, sometimes—they didn’t know where Rayna had gotten them from, but they were the only thing that, no matter how desperate, the twins had never traded. And now a new thought struck Anders: if he and his sister really did have dragon blood in their veins, perhaps the hairpins had even come from family.

  But Theo was climbing over a large, spindly artifact with lots of arms or legs or appendages of some sort, and pulling a huge book down from a shelf. It was the size of one of the giant Skraboks in the library back at Ulfar Academy.

  “These are the old records,” Theo said. “I’m still going through them, but there are lots of things in here that talk about ways to see what’s happening somewhere else. And that would answer some of your questions about what’s happening in Holbard. I don’t know where most of the things in this book are, but if we at least know what we’re looking for, we could come back here and search through the caves. I bet the others would help, or some of them, anyway.”

  Anders climbed in over the machine to look over Theo’s shoulder as the other boy turned the pages. Theo could read more quickly than Anders, so he scanned each description and paused whenever he found one that talked about long-distance observation or communication. Some artifacts were marked down as lost or broken, and some were marked down as “intact.”

  “That means they’re in here somewhere,” Theo said, pulling his smooth black hair into a ponytail again, when it tried to fall into his eyes. “Someone’s seen them and tested them and written it in here.”

  He turned the page again, and a jolt went through Anders at the illustration he saw. It was a large mirror, with dragons forged into the metal frame down one side of it, and a pack of wolves running down the other. He had no idea where he’d seen it before, but it looked familiar. “What’s this one?” he asked, staring down at it.

  “Communication mirror,” Theo replied. “You can see and hear what’s on the other end, and so can the person who has the matching one. They’re relatively common, but most of them have one of the pair broken these days. And of course the other one has to be somewhere useful. This symbol here means it’s intact, though, our mirror. Wherever it is.”

  Was the other one somewhere useful? Had Anders seen this design in the last few days here at Drekhelm, or was he remembering it from someplace in Hol
bard? And if so, where?

  Suddenly a deep voice sounded from behind them. “Can I help you?” It was Valerius, Ellukka’s father, and he didn’t look pleased to see them. His brows crowded together in a frown, a line forming between them. “What are the two of you up to?”

  Theo promptly eased the big book closed. They both knew without saying a word that it wouldn’t be a good idea to admit to a member of the Dragonmeet that they’d been looking up artifacts that might let them see—or even contact—people in Holbard. “I was showing Anders my work,” Theo said, radiating innocence.

  “Anders doesn’t have permission to be in here,” Valerius replied. “This is not an area for sightseeing tours, Theo.”

  “Apologies,” Theo said politely. “It’s time we were going to lunch anyway.”

  The two boys climbed out of the middle of the machine and walked out under Valerius’s watchful eye. And as he followed Theo through the door, Anders racked his brain, trying in vain to think where he’d seen the matching mirror before.

  Nearly everybody struggled to concentrate in class that afternoon. At first Anders didn’t notice, he was so caught up in thinking about the mirror and wondering if it could give him a way to find out what was happening in Holbard, and what Sigrid was planning. But then Ellukka forgot the thread of her story three times, and quiet Isabina dropped her latest invention, sending pieces skittering across the classroom floor in every direction.

  Rayna and Mikkel hunted for their books all over the classroom, lifting up everyone’s sheaves of paper and disrupting all the other students, only to realize they’d left them on the table in front of their usual seats. Even Nico and Krissin didn’t seem to be in the mood to snipe at anyone.

  And when Leif noticed the disruption at all, he seemed to have been jolted from his own daydream, looking up at the chaos his students were creating and blinking in slow surprise.

  “What’s going on?” Lisabet asked plaintively, looking around her at the dragons in disarray.

  “We all have bad days sometimes,” Leif answered absently.

  “This isn’t a bad day,” Krissin replied, irritable, which was unusual—normally she kept that tone for her fellow students, rather than her teacher. “This is everyone having a disaster afternoon at once.”

  “And I’m freezing,” Nico said with a scowl, drawing grumbles of agreement from all around the room. Anders looked across at Rayna, and his heart thumped as he saw his sister’s shoulders hunched over, her eyes dull as she hugged herself.

  It was Lisabet who suddenly saw what was happening. “It’s the weather,” she said. “It is cold. I was feeling particularly good, the best I’ve felt since we’ve arrived. I feel like I can really concentrate for the first time. How about you, Anders?”

  “I feel about normal,” he confessed.

  “There you have it, then,” she said, with a snap of her fingers. “It’s making me feel wonderful, everyone else feel rotten, and Anders isn’t affected—just as the heat hasn’t been affecting him.”

  Krissin, their science expert, stood up and stalked over to the instruments she kept by the window, tapping the glass on the barometer. “The pressure’s dropping,” she announced. “The wolf’s right, it’s getting colder.”

  Ferdie, whose constant good nature had been reduced to a quiet frown, looked up through his glasses, running his fingers through his blond hair. “Is that why I was having trouble transforming at lunch?” he asked.

  “No doubt,” said Lisabet. “I’ve found it really hard to transform ever since we got close to Drekhelm. But if the cold weather is outweighing the lava now . . .”

  “Is it the Snowstone?” Bryn asked, hugging one of her languages textbooks against her chest, her voice quiet.

  “Most likely,” Leif agreed. “I should go and speak with the Dragonmeet. Please do your best to continue with your work.”

  Leif slipped away, and one by one the students at least pretended to get on with their studies, though most of them really couldn’t concentrate. Anders exchanged a worried glance with Lisabet and tried to ignore the glares directed his way by Nico and Krissin, and even by Patrik, who didn’t seem to particularly like them but was rarely outright nasty.

  Their friends managed to stay at least moderately friendly, but everybody’s tempers were a little short. After a time he went and sat with his twin, trying to warm her hands up between his and distracting her with quiet talk about anything he could think of.

  As the afternoon went by, the temperature slowly began to ease back up again, but the damage had been done. At dinner, Anders and Lisabet were on the receiving end of scowls and glares from dragons who’d begun to get used to their presence. Everybody had seen what the Snowstone could do now, and as wolves, they were the closest thing available to blame.

  Anders was preoccupied all the way to bed, the evening’s conversation washing over him, endless questions fighting each other for room at the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t until he was actually lying in bed that night, listening to Lisabet’s soft, even breathing on the other side of the room, that it suddenly came to him.

  “Lisabet!” He sat bolt upright.

  “Hmmmwhatsitnow?” she murmured, rolling over in bed and propping up on one elbow. He could only catch a glimpse of her in the moonlight through their window, black hair askew, pale face sleepy.

  He pushed his covers back, hurrying over to turn on a light and pour her a glass of water from the pitcher by the door. “Wake up, I’ve remembered something,” he said, and she obediently sat up, accepting the glass and taking a long gulp.

  He told her about his lunchtime excursion with Theo—about the storage rooms and the endless books, records, and artifacts, pushing past the moment when her eyes lit up at the thought of exploring a place like that. He told her about the big record book they’d found, about the mirror and its description, and the symbol that said that somewhere in Drekhelm, the mirror was probably still working.

  “And I know where I saw the other one,” he finished, triumphant. “It was at Ulfar, in Hayn’s workshop. Hayn showed it to us himself, Lisabet! He said that it used to be a big communication mirror, for speaking to Drekhelm. I can’t believe I didn’t remember!”

  “I can’t believe you’re remembering now,” she said. “It was just a few words, and weeks ago. And he said it used to be, that it was broken, right?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “But what if he was wrong? What if the mirror on the other end wasn’t broken, it was just put away? On purpose or by mistake, maybe it’s in a dark, quiet room, and the wolves thought that meant it wasn’t working.”

  She considered his words, nodding slowly. “If what you’re saying about the way they store their records and artifacts is right, that could be what happened,” she agreed slowly. “It might just have been stored somewhere, when they moved from Old Drekhelm. Or perhaps it was on purpose—they moved right after the battle, perhaps they didn’t want the wolves to be able to contact them.”

  “We have to look for it,” he said. “If we can find it, if we can see Hayn’s office, perhaps we can find out something about what’s happening at Ulfar.”

  “We can’t let him know we’re there,” she said. “He told us Drifa, the dragonsmith, killed his brother. He must think we’re traitors.”

  They were both quiet in the wake of those words. Hayn probably wasn’t the only one who thought they were traitors. Their classmates—their friends—must all think the same. Were they wondering if Anders and Lisabet were all right? Did they hope they were, or they weren’t?

  “If we can’t talk to him then we’ll spy,” said Anders. “Maybe enough will happen in his workshop that we can get some clue what the wolves are up to.”

  “I bet you’re right,” she said. “At least it’s something we can do, instead of sitting around waiting for the Dragonmeet to finish discussing things. We’ll be old by the time they’re done, and my mother will attack before they ever decide anything. We’ll start looking tomorrow. It�
�s the only lead we have.”

  Chapter Five

  THOUGH ANDERS HAD FALLEN ASLEEP FEELING confident about their plan, the next morning he had to admit that he didn’t have any real idea about how they were going to find the Drekhelm mirror. As they got ready for school, he and Lisabet talked through their options.

  “If we’re going to use the mirror to spy on the wolves,” he said, “we need to be careful who we tell about it. If the Dragonmeet uses it, they could find out something that would help them attack Ulfar. We want to keep us and Rayna safe, but we don’t want to make things worse than they already are.”

  “Agreed,” replied Lisabet. “It would be helpful if we could let Theo in on it, because he knows where all the records are. And he’s come so recently from Holbard, I don’t think he’d help the dragons attack it. His family is there. But Mikkel’s his best friend already, and they’re roomies, so we can’t count on him not to tell Mikkel.”

  “And Mikkel’s completely for the dragons,” Anders replied. “I’m not sure about Rayna either. She’s a dragon, so she’s in danger from the Snowstone. And the wolves tried to kill her when she transformed. She has every reason to take anything we learn and use it against them. And she might tell Ellukka.”

  “So it’s up to us,” Lisabet said with a sigh. “We’ll have to try and get into the archives.”

  But it turned out that was easier said than done too. They got out of class simply enough that morning, telling a distracted Leif they were having trouble concentrating and wanted to find a quiet place to read. They took books with them and headed straight for the archive caverns Theo had shown Anders, following the twisting and turning passages inside the mountain by memory.

  When they made their way through the final door, they found none other than Valerius standing outside the main entrance to the storage rooms, talking to two other dragons. Anders and Lisabet ducked back inside the passageway and stood in the shadows, waiting to see whether the adults would leave or go inside.