Chapter 14
I STUMBLE TO MY FEET, COUGHING, as my head begins to spin. Serena seizes a second lantern from the wall and we run out into the tunnels. Screeches sound from the other caves as wyverns burst from their chambers.
‘That way,’ Atlas gasps, grasping my arm and pushing me in the direction of the fleeing wyverns.
‘Wait!’ I choke. ‘Whoever sent in the gas will be waiting by the exits. We have to use the waterfall one.’ I gasp for air. ‘It’s invisible.’
Atlas nods, his eyes streaming with tears. We turn and run back through a crowd of wyverns surging against us. ‘Turn around!’ Marquis screams at them, but the gas distorts his voice.
He collapses without warning and I stop myself from crying out, from breathing in more of the poisoned air.
I take short, sharp breaths as I drop down next to him and hook my arm under his.
His eyes roll as more of the green smoke skims his face, but someone appears at his other shoulder and lifts him.
It’s Gideon, a handkerchief tied over his mouth.
He heaves Marquis forward and I stumble with them as Atlas and Serena drive a path for us.
Some of the wyverns have had the same realisation and as they begin to change direction, others follow.
I see several carrying heavy rolls of tweed, scrolls of paper dropping to the ground to be trampled underfoot. The memory tapestries.
‘Leave them!’ I try to shout, but the inhalation of air burns my throat.
A group of wyvernlings fly by us and I watch them race ahead down the tunnel.
Then, several drop from the air with a thud.
And suddenly they’re at my feet, dead wyvernlings with green liquid oozing from the corners of their mouths.
My head aches, a deep pulsing that threatens to implode my brain as hands push me into freezing water and I swim, with nothing to follow but the blue-white sheen of wyvern scale.
I flail, my eyes scrunched tight as the pain in my head and the burning in my lungs paralyse me, until I feel a long, slick body beneath mine.
I emerge from the pool gasping for breath and suck in the cold, fresh air.
Aberdine slips out from beneath me, her egg in her mouth, but the thank-you on my lips gets stuck in my hot, raw throat.
I stare at the trees around me as my vision clears, the pain receding with each breath of pure air.
Wyverns are still bursting from the water and on the banks of the pool I see Marquis, lying on his back in the sunrise and taking long steady breaths as Gideon and Serena lean over him.
Atlas emerges on the back of another wyvern, his eyes red and burning.
I wade towards him and when we reach each other he clings to me.
‘I can’t see,’ he mutters.
I splash more water on his eyes as Cindra drags a lifeless wyvernling out of the pool and bites its tail until it takes a tiny, raspy breath
She looks up and her eyes meet mine. Gunshots sound over the crashing of the waterfall.
‘Guardians,’ Atlas says. ‘We have to move.’
There’s a roar as more shots sound. In the distance, I see the wyverns who have been ambushed at the other exits fill the sky with flame.
‘Your Prime Minister did this?’ Cindra snarls at me. ‘She will go to such lengths to find you?’
‘They’re looking for us, Viv,’ Atlas says, climbing out of the water.
I stare around at the wyverns. ‘Where are the others? There are barely fifty wyverns here.’
Another slick body bursts from the water.
Aodahn.
He thrashes in the pool, his tail lashing as he struggles to see through swollen eyes. Atlas staggers back into the water, narrowly avoiding the spiked tail.
‘Aodahn!’ he shouts. ‘Calm yourself.’
Slowly, Atlas and Aberdine guide Aodahn from the water.
He lies on the bank next to Marquis, breathing heavily, as Serena wipes his eyes clean with her handkerchief.
As he turns to his side, I see the bulging pouch of his underbelly and something dark beneath the skin.
It rolls out on to the grass, a black, cracked oval.
I recoil. Aodahn opens his eyes and lets out a strangled sound.
‘My egg,’ he rasps.
I drop to my knees beside the egg, but Cindra is already there. She nudges it with her nose and part of the outer shell falls away. For a moment she rests her face on it, listening. Then she gives a small, trembling nod.
‘It’s dead,’ Aodahn says. ‘My child is dead.’
An agonised howl comes from his chest.
Around us the other wyverns begin to echo it, and the forest fills with one simultaneous wail.
Goosebumps erupt on my skin as Serena’s eyes fill with tears.
The egg, so beautiful and pearly just a few hours ago, when Aodahn was echolocating with the wyvernling inside, is turning a chemical green colour.
I swallow the sob in my throat, unable to bring myself to offer Aodahn any comfort. His loss is too great for words.
‘We can’t stay,’ Marquis hisses from behind me.
He glances at Abelio, who is perched on a rock with his wings outstretched, staring at the wyverns in the sky across the hills.
They are still raining fire down on to the Guardians shooting at them, and I think of the wyvernlings that went the wrong way, and the ones that never made it out of the tunnels.
I nod. We brought the Guardians here. It only took them a few days to find us.
And Abelio isn’t going to forget that.
My failed translation of Cindra’s writings is inside, as are Clawtail’s journal and the loquisonus machine.
The only trace of the wyverns’ Cannair, lost to the tunnels.
I’ll never see them again. Anger fills me.
I couldn’t translate the wyvern tongue fast enough, and now here we are, under attack with countless wyverns dead.
For the first time in my life, my languages have failed me.
‘We need Chumana’s protection,’ Atlas whispers. ‘If the Bulgarians and Guardians are on this side of the island, we won’t survive long.’
I nod. Gideon and Marquis are already standing, holding our packs and backing away into the trees. I see Serena deposit a tearful kiss on Aodahn’s wing as she leaves him. But Cindra has seen us. Her eyes dart to Abelio, who seems frozen in shock, then back to me.
‘I wish you dead,’ she croaks slowly. ‘I wish you devoured.’
I feel my legs shake as her threat takes my breath away. The same talons used to waulk the tweed snap ominously. Cindra’s tail flicks from side to side, quick as a whip.
‘We will embark towards the Northern tunnels, near the coast,’ Abelio calls out.
‘Can you not see what these years of concealment have done to us, Abelio?’ Cindra snarls. ‘We thought we were safe underground, when in truth an unknown enemy lurked just above. Concealment has made us weak, ill-prepared.’
‘How dare you insult—’
‘And now our wyvernlings have paid the price!’
Aodahn casts an exhausted look in our direction. He dreamed of an end to the wyverns’ concealment, but not like this. I begin to cry. The sight of him is too much devastation to bear.
‘Courage, dear one,’ I hear myself murmur.
I don’t think he hears me.
Cindra and Abelio’s snarling can be heard even after we have retreated into the forest. Serena weeps quietly as we walk and I see Marquis reach for her hand.
‘How long were we underground for, do you reckon?’ he mutters.
‘No more than a week. We need to find Chumana,’ Atlas says again.
His eyes are red-rimmed and he’s holding my hand so tight it hurts.
Serena reaches for her radio and begins turning the dial. ‘We need an update on how the war has progressed.’
‘If Wyvernmire gassed the tunnels it’s because she knew we were in them,’ I say. ‘That means she’s still looking for me. And the loquisonus machine.’
‘Then she’s still wary of her own alliance with the Bolgoriths,’ Atlas says. ‘Which means she must be uncomfortable with the amount of power they’re wielding.’
A cheery voice crackles from the radio. ‘—and as the search for our rebel soldiers continues, Sandy and Drake would like to remind you that swallows always return to the nest. So, if our flighty Swallow can hear us now, then please, do us all a favour and give us a wave. We will repeat this message every hour.’
‘The rebels in London must think you’ve abandoned them, if Sandy and Drake are using their show to send you cryptic messages,’ Serena says. ‘What if Hollingsworth believes we’re dead?’
‘She couldn’t know the wyverns were living underground,’ I say. ‘So maybe she does.’
‘Chumana will spread the news that we’re okay, and she can tell us how many battles we’ve won and lost,’ Atlas says.
I cringe at the thought of seeing Chumana again.
She saved me from Wyvernmire’s camp only for me to throw the ugliest of words in her face.
And I have nothing but bad news to give her.
Hollingsworth believed our victory depended on an alliance with the wyverns and now most of them will never want to see us again.
We walk back the way we came in silence.
If I’d been able to translate Cindra’s writings, I might have won her favour before Wyvernmire gassed the tunnels.
The wyverns would be flying into battle against the Bulgarian dragons, armed with whatever secret advantage Hollingsworth believes they have.
My heart races as I watch the others climb over twisted tree roots.
What kind of translator fails to translate a language she’s been studying for months?
What is the point of me if I can’t use the one thing I’m good at to help us win the war?
We walk back through the valley in the pink sunrise.
Birdsong keeps me from falling too deep into my thoughts, instilling a strange calm as my legs burn with a satisfying ache.
We climb back up the hills and the physical effort and the birds and the fresh air soothe my senses.
I had forgotten how bright the sunrise is.
A small gasp.