Chapter 17
THE TENT IS SILENT EXCEPT FOR the sound of the waves and my own sobs. I stare up at Chumana, bound to the iron structure of the tent, her tail dangling lifelessly behind her. Blood drips from her face, a steady plink that sets my teeth on edge.
‘Is she dead?’ I whisper.
‘Not yet,’ Ralph replies.
His hand rises to settle on the back of my neck.
He squeezes. ‘No more negotiating,’ he says softly.
‘Here’s how this is going to go. I will tell the Prime Minister that I arrested you trying to break into this tent.
She’ll hold you prisoner, to use as a bargaining chip for the rebels’ immediate surrender, because she’s still too oblivious to realise that the Bulgarians will have disposed of her in a few days’ time.
I’ll come to you tonight and take you to Goranov and his brother.
I want to know what they are saying to each other – and if what he has promised me is true. ’
I breathe through my tears, staring at the wooden platform up by Chumana’s head. It’s suspended by more chains and accessed by a portable stairlift.
‘Why aren’t you with Goranov now?’ I say shakily.
‘He prefers to fly without me,’ Ralph replies, a hint of bitterness in his voice. ‘When we reach him, you’re to stay hidden with the machine. If you can find out what I want to know, I’ll make sure he sees your value when Britannia falls to the Bolgoriths. Understand?’
I nod. ‘What happened on Eigg?’
‘The Prime Minister attacked, but the rebels defended it well. Most escaped on dragonback. She’s furious.’
Thank goodness.
‘Not as furious as she was when she found out the Chancellor is an undercover rebel.’ He looks at me. ‘Of course, she’s guessed that’s who you were working for.’
‘Did a rebel betray her? I mean Hollingsworth.’
‘A dragon,’ Ralph nods. ‘In exchange for her dragonlings’ lives.’
I close my eyes, thinking of the newspaper report Atlas found.
When I open them, I see a tiny pulse in Chumana’s throat.
Atlas won’t be able to free her from those chains and if I set one foot out of line, Wyvernmire will have her killed.
My only way out of this is to give Ralph what he wants.
I feel the barrel of his gun between my shoulder blades.
‘On your knees, Featherswallow.’
I sink to the ground.
Shouts sound from outside. Ralph swears and we both go still, listening. Then I hear the unmistakeable whoosh of flame.
‘Fuck!’ Ralph cries.
He seizes the collar of my coat and pulls me to my feet, then presses his nose to mine.
‘Stay here,’ he snarls, a fleck of saliva landing on my face. ‘Don’t try to escape – you’ll only be burned alive.’
He dips out of the tent and I wipe my cheek with my sleeve, listening as someone starts to scream. My feet carry me to the stairlift as gunshots sound outside. It creaks as I climb, until the sound is drowned out by the sudden boom of a cannon. The Speerspitzes.
My breath catches in my throat as I reach Chumana’s head. It hangs down on to her chest, blood dripping from a deep gash below her eye. I see the white glint of bone. I reach out, my arms wide, and gently cradle her hot, spiked face in my arms.
‘Chumana,’ I whisper. ‘It’s me. It’s Viv.’
She lets out a long, slow breath.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Three days,’ she replies, her voice weak. ‘You must leave.’
A Speerspitze fires again.
‘I’m not going anywhere without you,’ I reply.
‘Then you are a fool.’
A laugh bursts from my throat, turning into more sobs.
Chumana’s head moves slightly so that one of her amber eyes is looking into mine.
‘Wyvernmire still wants you and that loquisonus machine,’ she growls. ‘She hasn’t been able to get your location out of me, so now she leaves me here in the hope you will be drawn to the bait. And you have walked straight into her trap, you stupid, stupid child.’
I shake my head, the scales of her face burning hot through the sleeves of my coat. Three are missing from above her eye, leaving gaping, bloody craters. I know who’s responsible. Back when he worked in Germany, Ralph learned how to slice off a dragon’s scales one by one.
‘I didn’t know you were here. But I’m going to get you out.’
I stare up at the chains holding Chumana, wishing it was just a question of cutting out a detonator.
‘Viv?’
Atlas’s voice calls out from below.
‘I’m up here.’
Atlas stares up, shielding his eyes from the light, and I see his expression turn to one of horror as he realises what he’s looking at.
‘We need the keys,’ I call down to him. ‘Or some tools.’
But he’s already crashing up the stairs behind me. ‘How did they get you in here, Chumana?’
‘Bulgarian dragons,’ Chumana mutters weakly. ‘They built the tent around me.’
I turn to him, feeling the terror seep into my bones. ‘What are we going to do?’ I say, my voice barely a whisper.
‘You must leave!’ Chumana roars.
Atlas stares at me with wide, shining eyes. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
‘The rebels are attacking,’ he says. ‘What if we—’
A slicing sound fills the tent, so loud that I jump, causing the stairlift to sway.
Atlas grabs me as I let go of Chumana and we cling to each other, swinging mid-air.
There’s a second slash, the sound of fabric ripping, and I scream as a dragon’s open jaws bite through the tent at our backs.
We lurch against the side of the stairlift and I close my eyes, waiting for the hot sting of teeth on my skin.
But it doesn’t come. An eye is staring through the hole in the tent.
It disappears and is replaced by a red snout.
The face of a Bulgarian dragon pushes through the gap and I feel the fear chase the breath from my body and Atlas’s arms tighten around me.
The dragon snarls and I gasp in recognition.
‘Daria?’
The sound of battle – roaring and clashing and the gnashing of teeth – rings outside.
‘This contraption is about to come down,’ Daria growls. ‘Get out.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not leaving her, she’s my—’
‘I know who she is, human girl!’ Daria growls.
Human girl.
But only Chumana calls me that.
‘Do you have a knife?’ I gasp at Atlas.
He pulls one from his pocket and hands it to me.
‘Keep me steady,’ I tell him.
I turn to Chumana and reach over the top of her head. The stairlift sways again and Atlas’s hands come down on my waist, holding me still. My fingers search the back of her neck, where the scales were removed many years ago. I find the tough ridge of an old scar and, beneath it, a fresh cut.
‘I’m sorry, Chumana,’ I whisper to her as I slip the blade into the wound until it touches metal.
I angle the knife and push upwards, my other hand catching the bloody metal box. She doesn’t even growl.
Ralph bursts into the tent. ‘Intruders!’ he screams. ‘Rebel Number One has breached the prison!’
I duck as hot flames scorch the top of my hair.
Ralph dives and the fire hits the front of the tent instead, engulfing it hungrily.
I press the detonator to my chest and cling to Atlas as we stumble down the stairs, shying away from the heat devouring the fabric around us.
Daria has disappeared and Chumana is still hanging from her chains.
The dragonfire spreads across the tent, reaching up into the canopy and closing in on Chumana.
I carry the detonator to the far side of the tent and gently place it in the sand.
Through the smoke I see Ralph crawl outside.
‘Over there,’ I gasp at Atlas, pulling him towards the gap before we lose sight of it.
Daria crashes into the tent. Metal shatters and chain links fall as her tail collides with Chumana, knocking her sideways with a metallic screech.
For a second she is suspended by one wing, but then she drops to the ground with a boom that I feel beneath my feet.
Atlas pulls me out on to the beach. A Bulgarian dragon lies across the sand, its belly slashed open, purple entrails spilling out.
We duck behind the body as bullets spray.
The sky is full of dragons, so many that the beach is cast into dark shadow.
It’s impossible to tell rebel from Bolgorith.
‘Towards the cliff!’ Atlas cries.
Guardians charge at us as we stumble back across the rockpools. I drop into a crouch as a Bulgarian dragon swoops down on to our path, swinging its head in our direction. ‘Surrender to Krasimir,’ it snarls at me, ‘and he may show mercy to your comrades.’
I recoil. Atlas steps out in front of me and suddenly, a huge, tawny body descends on us, its talons reaching for the Bolgorith’s face.
It screams as a claw pierces its eye and its body is lifted from the ground, suspended for a few seconds before slamming back heavily on to the sand.
It lets out a lethal screech and launches itself into the air in retaliation, hot blood droplets raining down.
Another Bolgorith joins it in its attack and suddenly the beach opens up, a clear path stretching out in front of us, the pale cliff a beacon in the salty smog.
We’re running, our feet dragging in the sand, smoke filling our throats as we reach the cliff path.
I turn my head to Atlas as I grasp at the long grass to pull myself up the steep slope.
‘Chumana, did she—’
‘That’s Soresten!’ Atlas cries. ‘And his sister, Addax.’
The tawny dragon that attacked the Bulgarian has been joined by another, with the same sandy colouring and zigzag markings.
The Bletchley dragons are back.
The prison tent erupts from the ground like a cork from a bottle and Chumana bursts from its trappings, broken chains trailing from her wings.
She soars upwards, higher than I can see, then streams back down like a shooting star, a slash of ruby against the grey sky.
When she opens her mouth, twenty Guardians are engulfed in flames.
Daria appears at her side, smaller and slimmer but the same triumphant shade of pink.
‘Why did she release Chumana?’ Atlas shouts.
I shake my head. I have no idea why this Bulgarian Bolgorith has defied orders and released a prisoner. My foot misses a dip in the ground and my ankle twists painfully, but Atlas drags me forward, away from the battle.
‘Listen!’ I shout at him.
We stop near the top of the hill, gasping for breath.
‘Do you hear that?’ I say.
Atlas’s eyes widen. It’s the sound of hooves.
Horses appear on the path behind us, galloping up the hill at twice our speed with Guardians on their backs.
We run, reaching the top, but Atlas’s hand is ripped from mine.
I turn as the silver flash of a baton knocks him to the ground and trip, my nose slamming into the dirt.
A horse screams, rearing as dragons circle above us.
I roll over and stare up into the helmet of a Guardian, looking down at me from his horse with his baton raised high.
Atlas crawls towards me, blood pouring down the back of his neck on to his jacket, and I grab his arm tightly.
We drag ourselves backwards on our elbows, fingers deep in the mud as the Guardian and his horse walk calmly beside us. He lifts his helmet.
Ralph.
‘No new world for you, little Swallow,’ he spits.
‘You think your partnership with Goranov is going to give you a future,’ I shout, ‘but to him you’re nothing but a live source of fireblod.’
Ralph’s face twists in anger.
‘You’re disposable to him, just like you are to your aunt. Wyvernmire didn’t want you in the glasshouse and Goranov won’t even let you fly with him That’s why you’ve sided with the Bulgarian dragons. Because you’re desperate to feel needed.’
The other Guardians are holding back, looking to Ralph for direction as he sneers down from his horse.
‘And what about you, recruit? You’ve sold yourself to the highest bidder, to whoever will let you play at being a Draconic translator.
’ He laughs. ‘You jumped at the chance to use that loquisonus machine. You’re just as desperate as I am. ’
Did I not feel a prick of excitement when I laid eyes on the machine after I thought they’d all been destroyed?
Did I not sit smugly in Hollingsworth’s office, proud to be using my languages to help the rebel cause?
Did I not waste time trying to translate an untranslatable language, because I couldn’t bear to fail?
‘You’re right. I’ve built my life around translation, thinking languages were the answer to all my problems. And now, without them, I don’t even know who I am.
It’s like being on a boat you thought could never sink, except it’s already wrecked.
I can’t save the rebels. I can’t save myself.
’ I stare up into Ralph’s bloodshot eyes as smoke wafts around us and the air fills with more screeches.
‘But being Goranov’s pet won’t save you, either. ’
Atlas pulls me closer to the cliff edge as Ralph jumps off his horse, the glint of his baton suddenly more menacing than any dragon in the sky. We crawl backwards through the grass and as one of my hands find Atlas’s, the other meets with thin air.
I look at him, my eyes shining, and he nods.
Ralph points the baton in my direction. A smile spreads across his face. As the other Guardians close in, he moves the baton to his other hand and raises it over Atlas’s head instead.
‘I’ll kill him this time,’ he whispers.
I roll sideways, Atlas’s jacket tight in my fist. His body rolls with mine, crushing me momentarily so that stones and tree roots dig into my back, and then suddenly they’re gone.
I bury my face into his neck as we plunge, tangled together like two warring dragons, into the sea.