Dragon Captives by Lisa McMann
Carina looked doubtful. “If you’re sure,” she said.
“I’m surrre the drrragons need to leave as soon as possible, forrr theirrr own safety, and I’m also surrre the long rrride back will be morrre comforrrtable if the rrriderrrs split up. Therrre won’t be rrroom forrr any food or water on my back if I’m carrrying the five of you.” The giant cat startled as a clatter of weapons and voices rose from within the castle’s courtyard. “They’ve spotted us up herrre, no doubt,” he said. “You must hurrry!”
Seth looked both disappointed and relieved at the prospect of leaving now. He glanced at his mother. “We don’t have any components. I won’t be of any use if we stay.”
Carina gave Simber a final doubtful look, then gave in. “All right. Come on, Seth,” she said. “Arabis, your wings look the strongest. Can you take us to Artimé?”
“It would be my honor,” said the orange dragon. “We’ll stop at the waterfall to catch some fish and collect water for the ride.”
The noise from the soldiers grew louder, and Simber nodded to Arabis, handing over any further instructions to be given by her.
“Take flight now,” Arabis ordered her brothers and sisters. “Watch out for the projectile weapons. Go straight toward the waterfall and stay out of range. We’re free at last! We mustn’t tempt fate.”
One by one, Drock the dark purple, Hux the ice blue, Ivis the green, and Yarbeck the purple and gold leaped off the wall and soared high into the air, a stunning, shimmering sight against the bright blue sky. Carina and Seth climbed onto Arabis’s back, and soon the mother and son were waving back at Simber and Thatcher. “We’ll see you soon in Artimé!” Thatcher called after them.
Simber rose too. The soldiers came charging up the stairwell and out of the turrets onto the fortress wall just a moment too late. They were left gasping for air, with little to aim their weapons at.
As Arabis maneuvered over the waterfall, the other dragons swooped down and dangled their tails in the water to catch fish. Seth and Carina leaned over to drink and fill Thisbe’s canteens before the long ride home. Simber and Thatcher headed inland at great speed. They followed the road that Arabis had pointed out, heading to Dragonsmarche. And making another appearance on the grounds below, amid the chaos, the princess and her servant slipped away unnoticed, this time galloping down the mountain on horseback.
On the Auction Block
The bidding began, and the crowd continued to grow around Thisbe and Fifer. Most people of the city didn’t have the wealth to place a bid, but they came to witness the rarity of not one but two black-eyed children up for sale. Twins, no less. It was a phenomenon. Surely no one in all the land could afford both children, though it seemed a shame to split them up—they were like finely matched horses. Well, except for the obvious thief. But her hair would grow back again in time, and she’d most certainly be taught many lessons about never stealing again.
The pirates and aristocrats filled the area closest to the girls. Thisbe and Fifer tried not to let their fear show. They were stuck here for this moment, Fifer kept telling herself, but Simber would come for them. Soon. She had to believe it, or she’d start freaking out and never stop.
“I wonder if this is what happened to Dev,” Thisbe whispered to Fifer. “If he got auctioned off too.” She imagined him standing up here and having the king and princess staring coldly at him before deciding to offer up the winning bid.
Fifer swallowed hard. “If it did, well . . . I guess I feel pretty bad for him.”
“Especially if he had to do it alone.”
“Yeah. At least we have each other.”
Both of them added silently, If we get to stay together. That was the scariest part. Neither girl could imagine what it would be like to be servants, forced to entertain spoiled royal children, or worse—pirates! Much less having to do it without the other.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as the bidding soared for the black-eyed pair. The auctioneer kept the crowd heated while the girls grew silent and withdrawn, finding it more and more difficult to process what was happening to them, and bewildered by the frenzied way the crowd was reacting. Every now and then they turned their gazes to the sky, searching for any sign of Simber. But they couldn’t see much past the frame of the stage they stood upon. Hope was all they had left.
Fifer, who’d barely slept since Hux had startled them awake two nights before, began trembling and couldn’t stop. Her limbs felt like rubber, and she sank against the pole, her body giving up. Uncontrollable tears started trickling down her cheeks. Thisbe, watching her, strained harder at her ropes, tearing the skin on her wrists but making no progress. “Hang on, Fife,” she whispered, feeling hopeless. A lump rose to her throat.
Just then a group of soldiers wearing blue uniforms swarmed in and began forcing people back. The castle soldiers, in green, drew their weapons, but they were clearly outnumbered, so they held back from attacking and instead demanded to know what the other soldiers were doing.
The soldiers in blue didn’t respond. Instead they cleared an area of the square in front of the platform, rudely and unapologetically shoving people back. At once the ground started trembling. A circular section of the cobblestones separated from the rest of them and began to rise up in the air.
The crowd gasped. The auctioneer paused in the bidding process as whispers began. A few people started moving hurriedly away.
“What’s happening?” cried Thisbe. Fifer only stared.
“The catacombs lie beneath this square,” whispered a bidder near the stage. “Could it be . . . ?”
“The catacombs!” repeated others, and soon the words were rippling through the crowd. “A secret entrance?”
The circle of ground rose steadily upward as many more in the crowd turned and began fleeing, knocking onlookers down in the process. Still others pointed up into the sky and began screaming. They tripped and trampled the townspeople in their hurry to get out.
Fifer, reviving a little, strained weakly at her shackles and tried to figure out what the people were pointing at. But she still couldn’t see anything much beyond the overhang of the structure she was tied to. And all Thisbe could do was stare at the cylinder slowly rising from the ground. It was like . . . like a tube. An actual tube. From Artimé. Could it be Alex? Did one of the secret buttons lead to here, of all places? But no . . . it couldn’t be.
As bits of earth and stone and dust flew off the cylinder, more and more visitors and merchants around the market square became aware of the strange happenings. The panic pitched higher when an enormous shadow swept over Dragonsmarche. Screams filled the air.
“Was that Simber?” asked Fifer, frantic. “Thisbe! Is Simber here?”
Thisbe couldn’t take her eyes off the rising tube. Almost instinctively, before the crowd began to whisper, her heart clutched, and she knew who would step out from it. It most definitely wouldn’t be Alex. As if in a trance, she stared, unable to care at all about Simber’s approach. She could only watch as the dusty tube inched higher and wait as its opening rotated toward her. When the opening finally came around, there was only one surprise. It didn’t reveal a man, as Thisbe expected to see, but a woman.
Despite that, Thisbe’s guess was confirmed when the few people remaining in the square whispered the name. “It’s the Revinir.”
All went silent for a moment. And then the silence was broken by the roar of the stone cheetah. At top speed, Simber swooped in to grab the girls. But the strange sight of the Revinir caught his attention. His eyes left the girls for briefest of moments, and he didn’t see the glass until it was too late. Before anyone could warn him, Simber smashed right through the invisible glass barrier that Thisbe had cast in front of Fifer. The girls screamed. Shards of glass flew everywhere. At the unanticipated impact, Thatcher went sailing off Simber’s back, landing hard on the stage. Fifer’s face, at first joyous at seeing Simber coming toward them, turned to shock at the impact, and then horror afterward as she glanced down at her
“Fifer!” yelled Thisbe.
From the tube, the Revinir watched, unfazed. “Hmph. What a pity.” She turned up her nose at the blood and looked away. “Guards!” she cried. “Free the thief!”
Blue-uniformed soldiers rushed to the stage. With a few simple swipes of their swords, Thisbe was freed from her restraints. She tried to run to Fifer, but the Revinir reached out and grabbed Thisbe around the middle. She yanked the girl into the tube with her.
“Save Fifer!” Thisbe screamed to Simber. The cat had circled by now, ready to snatch up Thisbe, but her cries were cut ominously short as the tube shot down into the earth. The Revinir’s long, curling fingernails entwined around the girl, securing the priceless black-eyed goods.
To Safety
Near the platform, Simber landed hard on the cobblestones where the cylinder had been. Thisbe was gone. He growled in rage. Then he turned quickly to ward off anyone else who would attempt the same with Fifer, but people shrank away from the bloody heap. Thatcher, still somewhat stunned from being thrown so violently from Simber’s back, got up and stumbled over to Fifer. He began trying every magical spell he could think of to release or cut through her shackles. At the same time, Simber began biting and tearing at the shackles at Fifer’s feet, and that proved more efficient.
Once she was free, Thatcher hoisted her up onto Simber’s back, trying to be careful of her wounds, many of which still had glass sticking out of them. “Go!” he cried when they were ready. Simber galloped across the stage, paying no heed to anyone in his way, and leaped into the air. He took flight, once again startling those who remained in the marketplace.
“What about Thisbe?” shouted Thatcher. “Did you see that woman? The Revinir? Did you see who it really was?”
“Yes,” said Simber, a strong note of disgust in his voice. “I saw herrr. She was about the last perrrson I could have everrr expected. How Queen Eagala surrrvived herrr trrrip down the volcano is beyond all comprrrehension.” He looked over his shoulder as he flew across the square. “How is Fiferrr?”
“Still unconscious and losing blood quickly. We have to do something.”
Fifer’s eyes fluttered and opened. She found herself looking down on the marketplace, which was a strange sight. Nearly empty of merchants and villagers by now, only the goods remained, with a few brave and desperate souls looting what they could.
Her gaze focused on the corner of the square where the giant aquarium stood—the one that Thisbe had pointed out. As Simber flew past it, she could see the strange-looking sea creatures more closely. Fifer’s eyes blurred as a spotted sea monster came into view. It looked familiar, somehow. In fact, it reminded her of Issie, their sea monster friend who lived on the Island of Legends. But Fifer’s mind was fuzzy. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling faint again, then opened them and turned her head. “Thatcher,” she said, noticing him for the first time. “What happened?”
Thatcher looked down at her. “You’ve been hurt,” he said. “We’re finding help.”
“Oh.” Fifer didn’t feel hurt. She didn’t feel anything. She wanted to ask where Thisbe was, but her tongue wouldn’t form the words. Soon her sight went black again.
Thatcher put his hand on Simber’s neck. “She was awake for a moment. Should I take the glass out or leave it stuck in her? I don’t know what to do.” He tried desperately to think like Henry or Carina, who were healers, but the uncertainty of everything overcame his sense of good judgment. “We don’t have any medicine.”
“Just wait,” said Simber. “That’ll only make it bleed morrre, I think. We need to find something that will stop the bleeding.” Beforrre she dies, he added to himself. He wore a defeated expression, taking full blame for what had happened.
They reached the outskirts of the city. Simber flew low to the ground between the road and the forest, looking at the foliage and wondering if anything there would help them.
“I’m afrrraid this is all my fault,” muttered Simber.
Thatcher held on to Fifer, feeling helpless. “You couldn’t have known about the glass spells. I didn’t see them either.”
“I should have!” growled Simber. “I also should know about the healing naturrre of plants. But as a statue, I’ve neverrr needed them. It was stupid of me to send Carrrina home. We need herrr now morrre than everrr.”
Thatcher didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen Simber so vulnerable and hard on himself. As they flew along, they saw two horseback riders coming toward them. When they grew close, Thatcher recognized one of them. “That boy—Dev. He’s the servant from the castle who fed us. And I’ll bet that’s the princess Thisbe was telling me about. Perhaps one of them knows a little about medicine as well.”
Simber was desperate enough to stop and ask them for help. He landed a short distance off so as not to frighten the horses. The princess and Dev slowed their horses and looked warily at the strange flying statue before them. Thatcher laid Fifer out on Simber’s back and climbed down.
“Hi,” he said. He approached cautiously, ready for Simber to snatch him up if these two tried to capture him. He held up his hands to show he was coming in peace.
Dev spoke quickly and quietly to the girl next to him, all the while trying to see what was going on. Then he stared at Simber’s back for a long moment. He got off his horse and came running toward the cheetah, realizing something was terribly wrong.
“What have you done to her?” he demanded.
“Dev!” said the princess. “Be careful!”
Dev ignored her and ran closer. He gasped when he saw Fifer covered in blood.
“Please,” said Thatcher earnestly. “Do you know what will stop the bleeding? We need your help to save her.”
Dev stared at Fifer in horror. “What happened?” Then he quickly turned to his companion, who had approached on her horse, pulling Dev’s along. “Princess—they need help. May I . . . ?”
She lifted her chin. “Is that one of our black-eyed girls? What about the auction?”
Dev tried to hide his sudden disgust for his only friend. How could she be so horrible? “Shanti,” he said quietly. “Please. Look at her. She needs help.”
The princess frowned at his use of her name in front of others, but Dev didn’t flinch. Finally she nodded primly.
Dev turned back to Thatcher. “That creature won’t hurt the princess?” He pointed to Simber.
“You have my word. He’ll protect her if anything.”
“Come with me.” Dev took off toward the forest with Thatcher right behind. He zigzagged around trees, looking for the right plant, and finally he found a grouping of them. “Yarrow,” he said, pulling one up. “What did you do to her?”
“We didn’t— It’s broken glass. It . . . shattered right in front of her.”
“More glass? Like what Thisbe did to me, I suppose.” He touched his sore nose gingerly, then pulled up another plant.
“I’m sure she’s sorry about that.”
“I deserved it. So . . . ,” he said, glancing back at Simber. “Where is the thief?”
“The . . . what?”
“Thisbe, I mean.” He pulled on another plant and tried to pretend not to care very much. But a wave of fear washed through him as he wondered what might have happened to her.
Thatcher remembered what Thisbe had said about their short hair. He hesitated but saw no reason to lie. “Unfortunately, she’s been captured. The Revinir rose up from the ground in the square and snatched her.”
Dev stopped and stared at him. His expression betrayed him. “The Revinir?” he whispered.
“Yes. She rose up from inside the earth.”
“The catacombs,” said Dev, as if he were piecing the story together. The knot in his stomach tightened. “Thisbe’s lost for good, then.” His face wrinkled up, and he fought to pull his feelings togeth
“Don’t say that. We’ll find her. We have to.”
“How? You can’t. You need to get Fifer home. She won’t survive out here. And I hope you know better than to ask for help from anyone else. Her black eyes . . . She’s not safe anywhere in our world.” He stood and started back toward the road.
Thatcher grabbed his leaves and followed. He wasn’t sure if he should believe the boy after all Thisbe had recounted. He decided to test him, to see if he’d lie. “How do you know so much about the twins?”
“I spent a couple days leading them to the castle,” said Dev. “Thisbe . . .” He thought about how she’d saved him by destroying the snake, and he felt his throat tighten. And then he shook his head. “Never mind.”
It was truthful enough. They reached Simber’s side. Dev showed Thatcher how to pull the glass out of Fifer’s body and administer the plant to stop the bleeding. “I’m glad you freed the dragons,” he said in a low voice. “You mustn’t ever let them return here. And you’d better get out of here too, before Princess Shanti’s father learns what happened, or hordes of soldiers will be on the move to find you. You won’t make it to the gorge alive.” He looked at Simber. “Not even him.”
Thatcher looked at the boy. “But we can’t leave Thisbe here.”
Dev dropped his gaze. “I’m not exaggerating. You may as well forget her. The Revinir won’t ever give her back—not in a million years.”
Grave Peril
Thatcher stared at Dev, trying to comprehend the finality of his words.
“Servant!” said the princess impatiently from her horse. “Enough already. We need to go.”
Dev looked at the princess as if he’d been struck. “I was just helping . . .”