Chapter 3
My mouth’s still dry and my stomach’s a hollow ache, but at least I can see the stars and smell the ocean.
Alayel led me outside the prison through a side door. On our way, we crossed some guards and I almost fainted, but they didn’t stop us or ask any questions.
Now we’re on the outskirts of the city, walking on empty streets and trails, away from the bay. The houses here are small and made of stone, most of them with only one window or none at all. It’s where farmers, fishers, and artisans live, away from the hustle of the port.
We’re silent, but my mind keeps talking, yelling, having circular conversations on whether this is stupid, crazy, or a great opportunity.
Maybe I want to believe that he has a feasible plan, and that I can do something meaningful, honorable, and join the academy as more than a mere recruit. The issue is that when I try to picture myself walking into the riders’ lands, all thoughts of glory dissolve.
Huge wings flap above us, as Auranius flies over the city. If he’s awake, at least there won’t be any attacks tonight. It would be sad to be burned alive before even leaving, before even trying. Is being burned alive after leaving any better?
Alayel stops by a large stone building and leads us to a windowless basement, darkness immersing us as soon as he closes the door. The room smells of clothes, paper, straw, wood, and a human scent. Not any human—Alayel. He probably lives here. Or lived. The scent is faint.
I hear the crack of flint and steel, and an oil lamp comes to life, illuminating a tiny bedroom with a straw mattress in a corner, a chipped wooden desk, and an old drawer chest, under a ceiling so low that its owner has to hunch.
He smiles. “I would apologize for the squalid ambience, but we have more pressing matters.”
This room reminds me of my attic, of the suffocating dread that my life will end there, smothered in my own insignificance. “Is this room yours?”
“There’s little privacy in the academy, so I kept this place.” He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a piece of parchment. “Let’s do this contract.”
My chest feels lighter as I realize he hasn’t gone back on his word. Then I remember what I’m about to do, and the weight returns all at once. “Can you explain the plan? I need to know that we have a chance.”
He’s pulling a pot of ink and a quill, and pauses with the quill midair. “If you decide it’s too much of a risk, I can’t simply put you back in your cell. And if you’re not with me, they’ll consider you a fugitive, and then… I don’t know.”
If his plan is deranged, I’ll have to figure out a way to escape. For now, I still want to hope that it makes sense.
I click my tongue. “You said it yourself: you don’t want to die. So your plan must be solid.”
He places the quill back in the pot and takes a deep breath. “The riders don’t have ports, right? And no ships go west of Dracolius to their lands.”
I feel queasy because in reality, while I was taught to read and write, I learned little about the lands beyond the wall.
My understanding has always been that they’re not interested in trading and that their shores are like our outer coast, with turbulent waters and gigantic, violent waves.
I hope he’s not expecting me to know much about the Kingdom of the Riders.
“They don’t have a bay,” I say.
“Right.” He points the quill at me. “Ships can’t dock on their side of Dragon Island.
But what I bet you didn’t know is that boats do sail around their land, and dragons can transport items to and from those boats.
It’s risky, but the higher the risk, the higher the pay.
Smugglers live for that.” Alayel smirks.
“That said, they’re not above profiting in a somewhat…
easier way. They’ll talk for the right price. ”
Alayel doesn’t strike me as someone who has the means to pay off smugglers, but I could be wrong. “What did they tell you?”
“The northern shore has some small islands. I’d say some twenty, thirty, scattered here and there.
There have been dragons circling one of these islands in the last few days.
Guarding it. An island with a rocky hill and caves.
It’s a nest. Has to be. A boat will get us near enough to it.
We swim there, find the cave, then take the eggs. ” He snaps his fingers. “Like that.”
“Quite simple.” My chuckle is tight, as I’m not sure if he’s joking or serious.
“Not that simple. You should be asking how we’ll approach the island without being spotted by the dragons. How we’ll reach the nest.”
“I’m assuming you’re about to enlighten me.”
He nods, his black waves bouncing. “Dragons fly over the island, right? Except that they don’t fly all the time. We’ll swim to it during the rainstorm.”
A knot forms in my stomach. “And risk a lightning strike on the sea.”
“We’ll time it right. When the lightning is distant. There are caves at the bottom of the hill, where we’ll wait for the next day, and approach the nest during the afternoon storm.” He shows me a corked glass bottle. “Dragoncurse.”
My breath stills. “I thought it no longer grew in Dracolius.”
He half shrugs. “I guess it’s rare now, but it came into my hands—a powerful extract, which should make the dragons sleep long enough.
One of us will have to throw the bottle at the cave wall to break it.
We wait a little, take the eggs, descend the hill, signal to the boat, and swim there.
Then we return to Dracolius—and make history. ”
All kinds of shivers run through my body. “How come nobody has done it before? If it’s that easy? And why would they have a nest in such a vulnerable location?”
“I don’t know if anyone has done it—or attempted it. As to the vulnerability, you’ll need to ask the dragon riders. Should I keep writing the contract, or would you rather risk a death sentence?”
I should push more, ask more questions. Surely if he can grant me a pardon when we return, he could grant me a pardon now. At the same time, his plan doesn’t require two people, so the fear of being left behind is overwhelming my senses and smothering all my caution.
“Write it.” The words come with a sense of relief and even hope.
I’m about to steer my destiny.
Were my words enough?
I’m safe, and I’ll come to see you in a few days. Mayara.
Will my brother understand that I’m not leaving him? I wish I could say more, just in case, but what’s the point of saying I love you, then walking away? The memory pokes the endless hole inside me.
What I need to do is survive and return.
I’m approaching the docks with Alayel, my hands bandaged, wearing one of his shirts that’s long enough to be a replacement for my ripped dress.
The contract is rolled into a canteen, clipped to a belt he gave me, its words etched on my mind.
I, Alayel Stormchaser, promise Mayara of the Earth a place at the Sky Academy upon our successful return from a mission in the Kingdom of the Riders. She’ll also be fully pardoned for any perceived misdemeanor during her Trial.
Then there’s the date and a drop of his blood and mine.
People used to believe that contracts like those were magically binding.
They’re not, but they’re legally binding.
You could go to jail for breaching a contract.
Still, he’s making some bold promises for someone allegedly with no power.
Then again, writing a contract promising something you can’t grant could also land you in prison.
When we left the cells, the guards let him walk through, so I’m counting on his so-called wisp of power, whatever it is, to get me into the Sky Academy.
At this time, the city is quiet, except for a few remaining drunkards in the Tavern Alley, but we avoid that area and keep to the empty parts of Dracolius City.
When we set foot on a wooden pier, a shiver of dread hits me like lightning. I’ve never been this close to a boat. This close to leaving our kingdom.
I signed the contract, agreed to the terms, and yet, only now it feels real. I bet it will feel even more real when we get to that island, so perhaps I should tone down my dread now, or it will rip me apart tomorrow. The thought only tightens the knot in my stomach.
“Mayara?”
Alayel has a foot on the deck of a small sailboat, a hand reaching out to me. I could turn around and run, but that would be extremely stupid. Where can one go when on an island with a huge wall protecting it? The only exit is here.
I take his hand—soft, warm, a pleasant touch.
My feet hit the wood floor of the boat with a thud, waking me from the momentary daze.
Alayel is beautiful beyond normal, and he got me out of prison.
But he also got me in prison, regardless of whether it was his fault or not, and he wants me here because I’m useful to him—even if I’m not sure why.
The only reason I didn’t ask was because I feared he would think about it and decide I didn’t have to come after all.
But I’m here, on a boat dwarfed by the larger commercial ships docked nearby.
A sailor approaches us, tan-skinned and heavily tattooed, with blue eyes and blond hair.
He huffs. “We were thinking you had given up.”
Alayel shakes his head. “Just a small detour.” He points at me. “Mayara, this is Listeno. Second in command.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” I say.
The blond man ignores me and laughs. “Last in command too. If there was any line of command. This is no Sky Guard ship, boy.” His voice carries the typical accent from across the ocean. He then looks behind us, as if expecting someone else. “Is your friend coming?”
“It’s just us,” Alayel says.
Listeno narrows his eyes and examines me. “Hmm. I see. I’ll get you to your quarters.”
Instead of leading us to the cabin, he opens a trapdoor with a ladder, and we descend to the belowdecks, where wooden crates and barrels are stacked on one side, and three hammocks hang from pillars on the other. A small, faded lumos algae jar is the only source of light.