Dragons vs. Drones (5 page)

Chapter
7

T
he explosion was incredible. It flashed out red and blue and yellow, erupting through the heavy smoke and lighting the room just long enough for Dree to see the three Flames leaping backward in panic. The cavern descended into darkness, and Dree quickly scrambled onto Lourdvang's back. Behind them, angry shouts filled the cave as the two dragon guards rushed into the chaos, trying to find the perpetrators.

But the cavern was huge, and in it, even Lourdvang was small. He crawled low through the smoke, and when they reached the opening, he dove straight downward, pulling his wings against his muscular flanks and dropping like a stone toward the valley floor. Dree tried not to scream while frantically wrapping her hands around his scales, her eyes
still stinging from the putrid smoke. The cliff rushed by in a blur of scorched rock.

Lourdvang spotted an overhanging ledge on the side of the mountain and flew directly beneath it, huddling against the sheer rock face and using the ledge as cover. He pressed them right against the mountainside, wrapping a wing over Dree for protection.

“What are you doing?” Dree hissed, looking around in terror.

“They will expect us to run far and fast. They will not look for us here.”

“So how do we escape?” she asked, frowning.

The sun was just visible to the west, sending its last golden rays into the Teeth. Lourdvang looked out over the barren mountains.

“We wait for darkness.”

Dree and Lourdvang waited until the night had crept over the mountains like a fog, obscuring the peaks and lighting the sky with millions of stars. They sat mostly in silence as they listened to the Flames raging overhead, scouring the skies and sending fire screaming in all directions. Dree suspected no one had ever escaped their lair before, never mind attacked their chieftain.

She shuddered to think what would happen to her and Lourdvang if they were caught.

Whispering to each other, Dree and Lourdvang discussed their options, but Dree sensed that something was a bit off. Lourdvang replied in only one or two words, and his eyes were always outward, away from her. She wondered what was wrong.

The waiting gave Dree a lot of time to think, but as usual that was no comfort. If she wasn't busy, the memories returned. Sometimes she thought of Gavri, playing in the yard, his hair like straw in the sun as he chased a tiny Abigale around. He was two years younger than Dree, kindhearted and quiet. Her mother had always favored him, maybe because he loved to help her in the garden. He said it was because he loved the feeling of the soil.

Dree could still hear him screaming from down the hall. Every time, she remembered the same moment: She couldn't get to him, and her father was grabbing her and the ceiling was falling and there was so much smoke. But the fire didn't hurt her. She could have gotten to him. She could have saved him. She had to.

After all, it was Dree who started the fire.

When the cover of darkness finally fell, Lourdvang slipped out from under the overhanging ledge and glided through the valleys, staying at the base of the Teeth, where the deepest shadows could hide them. The night air was bitingly cold, and Dree dug her fingers into Lourdvang's scales for warmth, icy tears streaming from her eyes and across numbed cheeks.

They glided for what seemed like hours in and out of the
jagged mountains, listening for the sounds of pursuers from above. It was terrifying—waiting for a dark eclipse against the night sky. But it was silent in the Teeth, other than the echoing calls of the few animals brave enough to live there. It was a long and eerie flight, and when they finally emerged from the Flames' realm, back to where the mountains were fuller and squatter and covered with some greenery, they both relaxed. As Lourdvang gained altitude and headed back to the secret cave near the city, Dree finally had to ask.

“Is something wrong?”

Lourdvang paused for a long time. “What was that weapon?”

Dree immediately understood.

“Something I created,” she said softly.

“In the shop?”

“Yes,” she replied, feeling a little defensive. “Just something I did on my own.”

“A weapon to kill dragons.”

Dree scowled. “A weapon, period. You know I don't want to kill any dragons. Though I wouldn't have complained if that one took out Helvath.”

“It's powerful,” Lourdvang said. “Do any other humans have it?”

“Of course not! I didn't share anything useful with Wilhelm. Swords, spears, and axes were all I made for him.”

Again, Lourdvang was silent for a moment. “If humans had the weapon you used today, they could probably wipe out the dragons once and for all. They would have mastered fire.”

“They won't get it from me,” Dree said coolly, insulted that Lourdvang could ever think she would put the dragons in danger.

Lourdvang didn't reply, and they flew back to his cave in silence. Dree climbed off his back, nodded farewell, and stormed off toward the city, tired and cold and angry. She made the long walk down the mountain as quickly as she dared, stepping over divots and holes and then setting off across the meadow. The tall grass reached almost to her waist, and in the darkness her legs seemed to disappear into it. Dree jogged through the city outskirts toward the docks, and she heard the slurred shouts from drunks in the taverns. The wealthy Draconians, the ones with the fanged earrings and half-shaven heads and elaborate flame-resistant armor, strolled along the city streets, laughing and letting their leather boots clomp off the stones. They didn't seem to have a care in the world.

And why should they? They lived in stone manors and drank wine from the south and never worried about whether they could afford to put food on the table.

They didn't have to live on the docks.

Dree soon arrived at her home, nestled in the sprawling, dirty splotch of wooden shacks perched on the edge of the lake. There were too many people for too small of a place: The little huts were basically built against one another, their ragged curtains pulled tight to afford what little privacy was possible. The roads were tired stone, cracked and worn, and everything smelled like fish. It was a tough place, but it was home.

Dree eased her front door open, sneaking in like a stray
shadow. The smells of charred wood from the fireplace and goat stew wafted over her nose. Her mother had probably left some in the pot for her, hardening now to congealed paste. She made it right through the small main room and into her bedroom, relieved she hadn't woken her parents. They had probably just assumed Master Wilhelm kept her working late, which wouldn't have been a first. She didn't have the energy to tell them what had happened, and besides, they were sleeping. She needed sleep too, if she could get it. It had been a rough night.

Dree turned to her cot and saw that Abigale was snuggled under the thick covers, obviously waiting for her. Abi slept in another equally small bedroom beside Dree's, nestled on bunks with their little brothers Marny and Otto. Dree used to share her bedroom with her old brother, Rochin, but he had left the family a year prior and now lived in a small apartment downtown, totally immersed in the new Dracone.

That meant Dree had a whole bedroom to herself, tiny as it was, though Abi spent almost every other night in there anyway, huddling beside Dree for protection against the cool, damp air that hung by the lake at night and crept beneath their blankets.

Seeing Abi in the faint moonlight reminded her of a night many years earlier.

Abi had been asleep in the little shelter her family had found themselves in after the fire, tucked into the corner away from all the strangers. Dree crept over to her sister and gently laid her hands on Abi's arm. She knelt there,
the moonlight playing tricks around her like glimpses of the dead, and made a solemn promise.

“I will never, ever let anything happen to you,” Dree whispered, tears running freely down her cheeks. “I promise you that I will protect you, Abi. I will keep you safe.”

Dree swore to herself that she wouldn't let what happened to Gavri ever happen to Abi. Dree had loved her brother, and she had let him die. No . . . she had killed him. Dree couldn't bring Gavri back, but she could protect Abi with everything she had—to death if need be. Since that day in the shelter, Dree had kept her promise, and she would continue to. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept her here, instead of off permanently in the mountains with Lourdvang.

Dree sighed and climbed into bed next to her little sister, watching the faint moonlight creep through the curtains once again, dancing along the rotting wooden slats on the ceiling. She ran her hand through her sister's matted hair. She had lost her job, and now her family would be struggling more than ever to put food on the table. Dree felt sick when she thought of Abi having to get a job at ten like she had, when she should have been at school.
I won't let that happen
, Dree promised herself, nestling close to her little sister and closing her eyes. She would figure something out.

Daylight dawned all too soon, spilling into Dree's bedroom and lighting up the swirling clouds of dust and dirt. Dree
blinked awake, feeling like she had only just closed her eyes. For a second, she forgot all about the traumatic events of the previous night, but she was almost instantly assaulted by images of a toy dragonfly, a Prime Minister, and terrifying red dragons. A part of her had hoped it was all just a dream.

She thought of Lourdvang and instantly felt guilty for being angry with him. Of course he would ask about the weapon; it was his kind that was in danger. Dree decided that she would go up to the cave and apologize later. First, though, she had to speak to her parents. Her stomach clenched, and she stared up at the ceiling, feeling nauseated. She was not looking forward to their reactions, their disappointment.

“You're back,” a quiet voice said, and she turned to see her sister staring at her.

Abi had Dree's blue eyes, though Abi's were soft and comforting. Her chestnut hair was long and usually tangled, since neither Dree nor her mother had the time to comb it, and Abi didn't care enough to do it herself. And where Dree's features were hard—strong brow, high cheekbones, a bump on her nose from when she'd broken it in a fistfight—Abi's face was delicate and instantly warmed by a smile.

“I am,” Dree replied. “You were waiting?”

Abi grinned. “I was.” Her smile faltered. “I kind of . . . looked around while I was in here. I was bored, and I shouldn't have, but I looked under the bed.”

Dree stiffened. “You did what?”

Abi pulled a small black-iron figurine from beneath the covers, welded with incredible detail from extra scraps at
the forge. It portrayed a Nightwing with a rider on its back, held in place by a saddle and armor plating. It was a perfect to-scale replica of something Dree had been designing for months, and it wasn't the only creation hidden under her bed. There were miniature replicas of weapons—projectiles and bows and jousts—all designed for use from the back of a dragon. But Dree knew why Abi had selected this one in particular: Any mention of dragon riding was forbidden. To create new technology for dragon riding would have landed Dree in prison . . . or worse.

Of course, Abi didn't know the half of it—these inventions weren't just for any rider and dragon, they were for Dree and Lourdvang. They were acts of war.

Abi looked at Dree, eyebrows raised. “Why didn't you tell me you were doing all this?”

Dree snorted. “Why do you think?”

“You can trust me, you know,” Abi said, crossing her arms.

Dree smiled and wrapped an arm around her sister.

“Of course I can,” she said. “But the less people who know, the better. You know what would happen if the Protectorate saw this. The generals. I would be thrown in prison or . . .” She trailed off.

“Then why do it?” Abi whispered.

Dree paused. She couldn't tell her sister about Lourdvang. It was too dangerous.