Chapter 22
A HIGH CHIRRUP.
A chatter.
A dracovol zips around my head, fluttering its wings and breathing out a puff of grey smoke.
It lands on my shoulder and I jump as I see someone walking towards me. Her hair is gold in the sunlight and her eyes linger on the dead dragon behind me.
‘Ruth?’ I say.
‘This way,’ she tells me, beckoning towards the sea.
I follow her. ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Atlas.’
‘Atlas?’
We reach a series of rocks just out of reach of the waves and Ruth crouches down. ‘In here.’
I frown, peering closer, and she disappears between the rocks.
The dracovol follows her. I drop to my knees and look down.
What I thought was a small pool is actually a hole.
I sit on the low rock, dangle my legs over the edge of the sandy tunnel and jump down.
It’s a short drop and when I stand up I’m in a dark but wide space.
‘Ruth?’ I whisper.
There’s the sound of a match striking and then a small flame fizzes to life. Ruth lights a lamp and lifts it up to my face. Atlas is standing beside her and behind them, the walls are covered in faded tweed.
‘Viv!’ Atlas says, grasping me by the shoulders. ‘I saw you fall. I thought . . . I thought . . .’ His eyes land on my bleeding arm. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, but my voice breaks. ‘What are you both doing here? Where are we?’
‘Abandoned wyvern tunnels,’ Ruth says.
‘They go all the way to Sanday,’ Atlas tells me.
‘Across the whole island, actually,’ Ruth says.
I stare at her. ‘These tunnels are how you get around?’
‘Yes. The dracovols scout out the tunnels. They can navigate in the dark like bats.’
‘With echolocation,’ I whisper.
‘That’s how you found the dracovol looking for me,’ Atlas says slowly. ‘All the way on the other side of Canna.’
Ruth nods.
‘Do the wyverns know?’
‘Of course not,’ Ruth says. ‘Once they abandon a tunnel, they never return.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that any more,’ I say, thinking of Abelio. ‘Your Sanday caves. They weren’t built by old islanders, were they?’
Ruth smiles and shakes her head.
‘Where does this tunnel lead?’ Atlas asks.
‘Back to the battle,’ Ruth says. ‘If that’s where you want to go?’
‘No,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘No, we don’t.’
I frown. ‘Yes, we do,’ I tell Ruth.
Atlas grabs my arm so hard I feel it bruise. ‘What are you doing?’ I snap.
‘We’ve got to go,’ he says, casting another look down the tunnel. ‘To the other side of the island. Now. I know you don’t want to, Viv, but you’ve got to trust me. You’ve got to go with me, because you have no idea what’s coming and I don’t have time to—’
‘Atlas,’ I say. ‘Chumana is dead.’
A small noise comes from his throat. His eyes sharpen in shock.
‘How?’
‘Ralph shot her.’
Atlas stares at the tweed behind me. ‘Then it might already be too late,’ he whispers.
‘No!’ I say. ‘Krasimir is weakened. Chumana saw to that. And Goranov is as good as dead. He and Ralph . . .’
At the thought of Ralph, my mouth turns dry.
He fired the Speerspitze that killed Chumana, injecting a poison that even my blood wouldn’t have been able to counteract.
I’ll make sure there’s no second chance for him.
But Atlas is still shaking his head. He looks at me as if he’s drunk, as if he doesn’t know who I am. And then suddenly he focuses.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
What is he talking about?
‘I’ve told you more lies than I can count. But it was all to save you, Viv, and you have to let me try. You have to come with me. Please.’
I blink. ‘To save me?’
Atlas’s jaw trembles. ‘The rebels do have a Plan B, in case the wyverns couldn’t be convinced to use their Koinamens.’
I feel a small rush of relief. ‘What is it?’
He stares at me. ‘Goranov has agreed to call off his war on Britannia. He agreed months ago, before you even left London. There’s this dragon in Bulgaria, head of a council of regals.
He drinks human blood to stay alive and his .
. . his current human has died. He needs a new one, but there are no people left in Bulgaria. ’
‘I know about the council,’ I say, remembering what Daria told us on Sanday. ‘But how do you?’
‘Hollingsworth,’ he says. ‘Goranov asked her for ten humans per year to be sent to Bulgaria as blood perfumers for the head of the council. In exchange for an immediate Bulgarian retreat. And the first human Goranov wants,’ Atlas says hoarsely, ‘is the brasstongue.’
My head spins. ‘Me?’
Atlas nods as Ruth stares at him in horror.
‘That’s why I accepted Hollingsworth’s secret mission.
She told me about Plan B, told me how crucial it was that the wyverns help the rebels.
That’s why I lied to you, Viv. Why I was still lying to you in Canna House.
I had to get you to convince them, because I can’t let the alternative happen.
’ He’s crying now and the image of Hollingsworth on the hillside flashes through my mind.
‘You mean that, because the wyverns refused to use their Koinamens – because I wouldn’t ask it of them – I’m going to be sacrificed instead?’ I place a hand on the wall to steady myself. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Atlas’s gaze meets mine. ‘Would it have changed anything? Would you have tried to force them to use their echolocation? I know you wouldn’t, Viv.’
‘We could have come up with a different plan,’ I say angrily. ‘You, me, Marquis—’
‘What plan?’ Atlas explodes. ‘How do a bunch of kids stop a Bolgorith from taking you? How do we convince the entire rebel movement that their leader has made an unspeakable deal from a secluded Scottish island? And what about Ursa? Would you have tried to escape, leaving her to be eaten by Bolgoriths?’ He snorts.
‘You would have rather offered yourself to Goranov willingly.’
He’s right.
‘Who knows about this plan?’
‘Hollingsworth, Cormac, Dr Seymour and me.’
I pale. ‘Dr Seymour?’
‘That’s why she sent you Clawtail’s journal and the coded directions,’ Atlas says. ‘She knew what Hollingsworth would do if we failed and that she wouldn’t be able to stop the plan once it was set in motion.’
‘So Hollingsworth’s intention,’ I say shakily, ‘is just to give me up?’
‘Along with nine other people,’ Ruth spits. ‘Every year. Another corrupt offering of human flesh in exchange for peace.’
I shake my head. None of this makes sense. Hollingsworth is a rebel who cares about human and dragon equality, about the individual people who make up the oppressed Third Class. Surely she wouldn’t do this?
Take her! Take her now!
My eyes land on Atlas. ‘Back on the beach, everything you said about hesitating over the priesthood, about . . .’
‘It was all true,’ Atlas says fiercely. ‘I was lost for a while, after Bletchley. But none of it mattered any more once Hollingsworth told me of her plan. She knew I would do everything in my power to keep you safe, including exploiting the wyverns.’ He reddens with shame.
‘And I knew it too. That’s the only reason she told me.
And it’s why I went looking for Chumana when we got out of the wyvern tunnels.
I was going to tell her everything, ask her to fly you away, but then we found her imprisoned. Now, please, Viv, come with me.’
He holds out his hand.
‘Where to?’ I say. ‘And what about Britannia?’
‘I don’t care about Britannia any more!’ Atlas roars. ‘If Goranov takes you to Bulgaria, Bolgoriths will feast on your blood for the rest of your life.’
‘But Britannia would be safe,’ I say quietly. ‘Ursa would be safe.’
He sinks to his knees.
‘You would burn the world for your sister, wouldn’t you?’
I nod.
‘I would burn it for you, Viv,’ he sobs.
I drop down next to him, tears pricking my eyes. ‘But we have to do the right thing, Atlas. We can’t simply save ourselves.’ I think of who I was back at Bletchley Park, how I almost refused to join the rebels out of fear for my family. ‘I tried that before, remember?’
I press my lips to his cheek and we kneel in the silence, crying.
‘You ’ent going to give yourself up?’ Ruth says to me in disbelief.
I shake my head. ‘Not while we still have a chance at winning.’
‘You think we do? Have a chance?’
‘Thanks to Chumana, yes. Krasimir and Goranov are both injured. Surely the rebels have enough dragons to finish them off.’
I pull Atlas to his feet.
‘This way, then,’ Ruth says.
She turns and heads down the dark tunnel. I move to follow her, but Atlas grabs my hand. His cheeks are red from crying and his mouth is a taut, quivering line.
What is it?’ I say.
‘If we fail, I won’t let you give yourself to Goranov. You know that, don’t you?’
‘I won’t have to, Atlas,’ I lie.
He kisses me gently, tentatively and then, when I don’t pull away, his mouth turns hard and deliberate. I kiss him back, my lips scorching, my mind clouding with surprise and desire.
The edges of the wound in my arm burn. Will feeding my blood to a dragon hurt more than this?
‘For God’s sake,’ Ruth shouts. ‘Can’t you save the snogging for when you’re sure you’re actually going to survive?
We come apart, our faces tearstained, the wyvern-spun tweed at our backs. I take Atlas’s hand and we follow Ruth’s voice towards the battle.
The sky is black with dusk and dragonsmoke when we emerge from a cave in the cliff face.
We’re standing on the beach where Wyvernmire’s camp was, every tent around us burned to ash with only their metal pegs remaining, glinting in the torchlight that pierces the gloom.
The rebels have dragged out the torches used in Chumana’s prison tent to help them guide the Speerspitzes.
I see a black hole in the sand – the detonator must have exploded.
On the hills above, a fire-breathing plane lies on its side.
The battle is still raging and the sand is littered with bodies.
The bodies of Guardians and rebels. The bodies of dragons.
Ruth sinks down to the ground to crouch over a small figure wrapped in furs, then looks up at me with tears rolling down her face.
The bodies of children.
I let out a small, horrified cry.