Chapter 22 #3
‘I’m so sorry to have to ask this of you, Vivien,’ she says softly. ‘To leave your family and live among Bolgoriths is no easy fate.’
‘No easy fate?’ Marquis snarls. ‘You call having your blood sucked by a twenty-foot reptile no easy fate?’
‘The Swallow will not be harmed,’ Hollingsworth says sharply.
‘I made sure of it. She will remain fed and healthy, dignified and courageous. She is of great value to the Regal Vasil, and not merely for her blood. She is what the Bolgoriths call a brasstongue. A speaker of many tongues. For the Bulgarians, who have been shunned by the rest of the world, she is an invaluable political pawn.’
I feel my eyes narrow. Is this still all I am? Hollingsworth’s Swallow, a bird to be caught in a snare? Goranov’s brasstongue, a translator in a gilded cage? Am I destined to live by other people’s definitions of me for the rest of my life?
‘And the same goes for any of the men or women who volunteer to go to Bulgaria with her, this year and every year after.’
Someone swears at Hollingsworth, a barrage of insults that land on deaf ears.
‘This is the price Britannia must pay to keep her loved ones safe! Ten humans per year, in exchange for financial compensation for their families.’
‘Only the Third Class need that,’ someone mutters. ‘So I guess they’re the ones who’ll be doing the paying.’
‘No one will be forced to go. And no children,’ Hollingsworth glances at Ruth, ‘will be permitted to volunteer.’
‘You’ll have Viv when hell freezes over,’ Atlas snarls. He looks to Cormac, the man who trained him to survive on Canna. ‘Are you going to let her get away with this?’
‘I don’t like it one bit, boy,’ Cormac replies. ‘But I’ve never seen an invasion like this. The Chancellor is acting for the greater good.’
‘You go, then!’ Serena shouts.
‘Dr Hollingsworth can go,’ Sophie snarls.
‘Oh, I intend to,’ Hollingsworth replies. ‘You didn’t think I was going to send Vivien alone? I will be one of this year’s sacrifices, too.’
The cave falls silent again.
‘I’ll volunteer,’ George Beecham says, stepping forward. ‘I’m nineteen. Not a child.’
I shake my head, my eyes filling with tears. Surely this isn’t the only way?
A figure appears in the cave entrance.
It’s Wyvernmire, her face covered in soot and her eyes wide with panic. Immediately, the girls from Sanday surround her, their charred furs engulfing her like a black cloud.
‘How did you escape the Bolgoriths?’ I demand.
The Prime Minister looks at me, then at the rebels, and sways. ‘There was no guard.’
‘You’re of no value to them,’ Marquis says darkly. ‘I’m surprised you’re still alive.’
‘Not for long she won’t be,’ says Ruth. She steps towards Wyvernmire, her face so close that their noses almost touch. ‘Her name was Clemmie. She was thirteen years old and she’s dead because of you.’
I remember the dead child on the beach and catch Ruth’s eye. There’s a flash of a challenge, as if she’s daring me to interfere. But I have no intention of it. Footsteps sound as Jasper and Freddie join her, followed by what is left of their own groups.
‘Look at her!’ Ruth shouts. ‘This doe-eyed, trembling old lady is the woman who sent us here. She’s the reason we’ve all watched kids die.
Why we had to make poison pouches. She let the Bulgarians in and fed Clemmie to them!
’ Her voice cracks as more people gather round.
‘And now, this Hollingsworth woman wants to do the same thing. I say we kill ’em both. ’
Atlas is no longer by my side. My gaze flits around the cave.
He is standing just outside the cave entrance, the shape of him illuminated by the orange flames.
He’s pointing to the sky, whispering to Cormac who is nodding as they follow the trajectory of a Bolgorith.
I touch my necklace as I see him say something to two rebels.
He points at their guns, then at the dragons outside, and the rebels are nodding, obeying his order to bring him their weapons.
When he lifts his hand again I see the curve of each finger in the moonlight, hands that have held a gun, held a prayer, held me.
And something unfurls inside me. Everything he has done on this island was to save me, to save his country.
Atlas never went to university, never won any awards or cracked any codes.
He’s more than what people wanted to make of him, more than a priest or a rebel; just like I’m more than a brasstongue or a symbolic bird.
Chumana was right about that. I love him, but not for what he has achieved.
It’s who he is – a dragon-hearted boy whose lies were an act of devotion – that makes me want him.
So perhaps there’s still hope for me.
‘We, Canna’s children, are walking proof of Wyvernmire’s corruption,’ Ruth shouts, drawing my attention again.
‘We are the secret clause in her Peace Agreement. And we will be her downfall.’ Her eyes flash.
‘This ’ent her island. It’s ours. And she’ll watch us take it back, you’ll see.
’ She casts a look outside. ‘We don’t know how many dragons we have left, so it’s up to us to bring Krasimir down.
He can’t fly high – we have that British Bolgorith to thank for that. ’
I smile, knowing that Chumana would like this description of her.
‘I want Speerspitzes set up in a circle,’ Ruth says, climbing up on to a rock.
Every rebel, every Guardian is watching her. She looks to Cormac.
‘When Krasimir flies over, you fire together. Understood?’
‘You heard the lass,’ Cormac growls as he turns to the rebels. ‘What’s the ammunition count?’
‘Your poison pouches are your final weapon,’ she says to her girls. ‘If you’re about to die, you can at least put a Bolgorith out of action for the rest of the battle!’
Marquis is nodding, his eyes alight. I meet his gaze and know, with a sudden certainty, that he would have followed Ruth in her plan to kill both the Prime Minister and the leader of the Human-Dragon Coalition.
Better that than lose me.
‘Something to consider,’ I say, taking an awkward step forward, ‘is that the Bolgoriths have poor eyesight. They hunt in packs because they can communicate, er –’ I glance at Hollingsworth – ‘telepathically.’
Everyone stops to look at me and my voice rings clumsily throughout the cave.
I promised the Koinamens would remain a secret, but I can’t keep this crucial information from the rebels.
Not if it could save their lives. ‘Some of you already know this and some of you don’t, but I’m afraid there’s no time for questions.
What one of them can see, albeit poorly, the others can see.
A Bolgorith could be preying on you here on this beach, watching your every movement while simultaneously seeing you from his brother’s vantage point.
It makes them almost impossible to escape.
Except for the fact that their weakness lies in their telepathy, too. ’
Atlas meets my gaze and smiles. He gestures to a group of Guardians holding rifles. ‘You can’t kill a dragon with those guns, but you can aim for the eyes. If they lose the ability to see in two places at once, they lose their advantage. Right?’
One of them, a man almost as young as Atlas, nods.
‘We’ve really got to go back out there?’ George asks.
His face is ashen and full of terror.
‘No one’s going to make you,’ Marquis says. ‘The whole point of rebellion is freedom. But if you want to protect that freedom for Britannia, not just for its Third Class but for all its humans and dragons, we have to kill that Bolgorith. Krasimir must fall.’
‘Speerspitzes and any guns or arrows that will take out their eyes,’ says Ruth. ‘Leave your knives behind.’
The man who complained about the planes is nodding as the cave rings with the clatter of weapons. Atlas points at two of Freddie’s kids, his eyes darkening. ‘You keep one of the Speerspitzes on Goranov, understand?’ He glances at me. ‘You don’t let him near her. You shoot on sight.’
They nod. The rebels surge towards the entrance and Ruth lifts her crossbow.
‘For Canna!’ she bellows as children spring out on to the sand.
I feel Hollingsworth watching me. I turn to her slowly, then point to Ruth, to Jasper and Freddie and Marquis and all the other kids.
‘I was never your Swallow,’ I say. ‘They are.’
But if this doesn’t work, I know what I’ll do. I’ll slip away from the battle and find Goranov. It’s not a death sentence. I’ll just be some Bolgorith’s pet. I force myself to imagine a burning Britannia, Marquis and Sophie cowering like prey, Ursa lying still and cold.
These are far worse fates.
‘We have thirty Speerspitzes,’ Cormac tells Ruth outside. ‘Twenty on the shoreline and another ten on the hillside.’
‘And we have ten,’ Freddie says, walking across the beach.
‘Serena?’ I say as she follows him. ‘You can’t shoot with that arm.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Featherswallow,’ she says, tightening her sling. ‘I can still load.’
I step out on to the sand and Atlas grabs me by the sleeve. ‘Stay close to me.’
Cindra and a group of wyverns swoop above us towards Compass Hill. I stare at the sky. I count a few dozen Bulgarian dragons between here and the sea, all airborne. And half their number of ours.
‘Wait for the dragons!’ Atlas calls out to the rebels. ‘Wait until it’s safe to cross the beach.’
The rebel dragons rise up to meet the wyverns and together they fly towards the Bolgoriths, forming a defence line in the sky. I see the glint of jewels in the twilight. Krasimir joins his Bulgarian battalion, although his neck is half severed.
‘Now!’ Atlas shouts.