The Dragondain Page 7

Jasper scanned left and right. “We, um, appear to be pretty close to the center.”

  “Yes. Actually, this is the center. If you look about, you’ll see some of the greatest lunamancers ever to form a peerin. Over there, for example, that tall man in the bright blue, that’s Dyre Fellbard. He’s from the royal court. And there, standing in the yellow dress, just to the right of Dyre, is Jaelin Swarl, and over there, wearing the green dress, is Minna Warewax. Ember is certain to be here somewhere—”

  “Ember! You know Ember?”

  “Yes, all my life.” Ridley gestured toward Bree. “Watch.”

  “If you see Ember, would you point her out to me?” asked Jasper.

  “Yes, yes. Now be quiet.”

  Bree took a step forward and placed her palms together before her face. She swiveled her hands so that her fingers pointed in opposite directions, and her elbows jutted out. Slowly, she drew apart her hands until just the tips of her index fingers and thumbs touched. Staring down Beck though the rectangular opening in her peerin, she looked ready for anything.

  On the other side of the arena, Beck did the same, although he kept his hands lower.

  “These two won’t fool around. Beck will do his best to knock Bree out first thing.”

  “How?”

  “Good question. At this level, originality is the real advantage. Lunamancers aren’t known for sharing their secrets, and the academies were closed by the Royals before any of us were born, shortly after Perianth fled to Bairne. Even so, there won’t be many moves the high-level lunamancers around this ring haven’t done or seen, but they’ll be new to most everyone else, and if the brothers are lucky, they’ll even be able to show a surprise or two to Annora and Bree.”

  Beck lifted his peerin to his chest and a flame erupted from his hands. It quickly grew pointed, and then cracked open like a pair of glowing jaws. As its body grew, wings sprouted from its sides. The heat it generated was powerful, and many of the spectators circling the arena raised their arms to shield themselves. About halfway across the arena, it met with an unseen resistance, growing brighter as it struggled to make forward progress. Its bright tail wavered and collapsed into its head, tumbling ineffectually and bouncing on the turf twice before coming to rest, looking like nothing more than a glowing lump of blue sea glass.

  The crowd went completely silent.

  Bree closed her peerin and let her arms fall to her sides and then turned to face Annora. The second her back was turned to the Lintel brothers, she made an excited can-you-believe-it face to her sister. Annora kept her game face on, but when Bree got very close she said something that made Annora’s eyebrows lift.

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The lunamancer in the purple robe hurried over to the glowing lump, which still burned brightly where it lay. She knelt, drew out what looked like a small wand, and probed. Her taps produced a loud tinkling sound, like glass wind chimes.

  Ridley’s mouth was half open.

  “What is that?” asked Jasper.

  “I . . . don’t . . . know.”

  “Why is everyone so quiet?”

  “I think the judges are trying to decide if Beck’s spell is finished. Annora and Bree aren’t allowed to begin their turn until their opponent’s spell has been properly dealt with.”

  Ren shuffled toward them between rows, pushing past people’s knees, stepping on toes. When she was directly behind them, she knelt down.

  “Ridley,” she said excitedly, “what is that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You haven’t seen them practicing it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “I thought all magic dissipated,” Ren continued.

  “It does,” said Ridley, shaking his head. “I mean, I think it does. I mean, I thought it did. So is the spell over? I mean, it’s still there—right? It hasn’t been dealt with.”

  Ren leaned closer, her auburn hair tumbling in long locks from under a green cap. “Or rendered harmless,” she said, her green eyes flashing.

  “What if they decide it’s not harmless?” asked Jasper.

  “Then Annora and Bree would lose—here and now,” said Ren.

  “Looks harmless,” offered Ridley.

  “Or it could just be smoldering,” said Ren. “The judges won’t like it if it comes back to life later, after their judgment.”

  “And what if that happens?” asked Jasper.

  “All judgments remain final,” said Ridley and Ren in unison.

  “Maybe that’s it,” hissed Ridley.

  “What?” asked Jasper.

  “What if they’ve trapped it?” asked Ridley.

  “Looks more like they’ve changed it into something else,” said Ren.

  “But if they lose the judgment, they’ll lose, right?” asked Jasper.

  Ren and Ridley began to chuckle. “They don’t care!”

  “So if the judges decide the spell is harmless, and it isn’t—could it be they’re planning to use it later on?” asked Jasper.

  Ridley and Ren exchanged glances. “He’s got a point there,” said Ren.

  “It will all depend on how curious they are,” said Cora, head down, her two darning needles dancing frantically on her lap.

  “What do you mean, Mom?” asked Ridley.

  Cora spoke half under her breath. “Bree has shown them something new. Annora is gambling that they’ll want to see more.” After a moment of furious knitting, Cora asked, “How does Bree look?”

  Jasper, Ridley, and Ren turned to look at Bree.

  “She looks fresh as a daisy,” said Ridley, sounding surprised.

  “And Beck?”

  Three heads swiveled to look at Beck. “He’s sweating up a storm,” said Ren.

  Cora threaded yarn over needle, needle over yarn, her head slowly wagging side to side. “AnNOORra,” said Cora. “What are you up to?”

  Abruptly, the judges signaled the beginning of the next round, and the crowd seemed to exhale all at once.

  Annora stepped around Bree and planted her feet dramatically. With a flourish equal to her sister’s, she formed the peerin before her chest. On the opposite side of the arena, Newlin stepped forward and did the same. He looked nervous. After a few seconds, Annora sprang her hands open and ten yellow bolts bloomed out of her fingertips. The bolts curved out wide, passing remarkably close to where Jasper and Ridley sat, before homing in on Newlin. It happened very quickly, but as the bolts neared Newlin, they appeared to slam into an unseen force, which created a sudden explosion, loud enough that Jasper could feel it deep in his chest and lungs.

  Then the crowd made a sound like booing.

  “What was that?” asked Jasper.

  Ridley looked puzzled. “That was a thunderclap.” Ridley turned to Ren. “Why would she do something so easy?”

  Jasper looked skeptical. “That was easy?”

  “A thunderclap is all show,” explained Ren. “Oh my, look at Newlin. He’s completely shaken.”

  “And Annora is laughing,” said Ridley. “Newlin was expecting something more serious. He over-defended himself.”

  “He remembers last time,” said Ren.

  Jasper shot Ren a quizzical look.

  “The last time they faced each other,” explained Ren, “Annora attacked him outright and tried to erect a blooming siphon to leech off his magic. Nearly impossible to pull off, but she came close. She nearly took the match in the first round.”

  Now it was Beck’s turn. Bree stood at the ready, peerin again held high. This time a black vortex snaked out of Beck’s hands. The people in the crowd reacted, throwing up their hands instinctively. Many of the lunamancers drew up peerins before themselves, either to watch or to defend themselves if things went badly.

  But the vortex got only ha
lf as far as the first spell before it began to slow. Beck, seemingly prepared for this, redoubled his efforts to blast past Bree’s defenses. Almost immediately, the vortex rebounded backwards toward Beck. The onlookers panicked, toppling benches as they fled. But the vortex quickly collapsed on itself, tumbling oddly, flipping end over end before stabbing into the ground and sticking there, looking like a frozen yellow lightning bolt.

  This time, when Bree came back, Jasper could have sworn that she nodded toward where they sat and that Annora spent a few seconds peering toward them as well.

  The crowd began to murmur again.

  “And what was that?” asked Jasper.

  “I . . . don’t . . . know,” said Ridley once more.

  The next several rounds continued in this same manner, the ground about the Lintel brothers slowly becoming littered by the strange glowing shapes. In between rounds, Bree and Annora kept shooting glances in Jasper’s direction.

  “I wish I could hear what they were saying,” Jasper murmured.

  Hearing him, Meeri stood up and glanced at Annora and Bree out on the field. A moment later, she trotted over to the bench and scrambled up between Falin and Jasper. She pressed her smiling face very close to Jasper’s, the way small children do. Her fingers were sticky from something sweet she’d eaten earlier. When they were nose to nose, she made a shushing sound. Then she looked around as if to see if anyone was watching, but all eyes were on Annora and Bree. Meeri opened her small palm and held it out of sight, tightly tucked between herself and Jasper. Using her finger, she began a swirling motion in her palm. She placed it over Jasper’s ear and pointed her other open palm toward Bree and Annora.

  The voices were thin, but clear.

  “. . . drew on that lodestone again, it was so easy, but I think it changed something in the spell. It’s not like it’s supposed to be,” said Bree.

  “Nonsense, it’s working fine,” whispered Annora. “Two more should do it.”

  “They weren’t so manifest before. And they didn’t glow so brightly. You have more than enough. We don’t want to kill them!” hissed Bree.

  “I want to be certain. Our calculations were for seven of them. We’ll stick to the plan.”

  “But it’s different.”

  “Of course it’s different. We’re doing it for real this time.”

  And then Bree was defending.

  Another strange object littered the arena. Then another.

  Finally, there were seven. Annora took her place. She spread her hands, formed her peerin, and lowered her head in concentration. They waited, and she stood still as a statue.

  “Come on, Annora,” hissed Ridley. “Come on, Annora.”

  A nervous tittering began in the crowd.

  “Annora . . .” hissed Ren, and Jasper felt Ren’s hand tighten on his shoulder.

  “She’s going to blow her time limit,” said Ridley. “Is she over?”

  “I don’t think so,” answered Ren. “But it’s gotta be close.”

  Annora lifted her head and stepped forward. With one knee bent, she pressed her hands outward and pulled her peerin apart. From deep below the turf came a sound like splitting rocks. Then silence.

  The crowd sighed. Ridley suddenly sat up perfectly straight.

  “She flubbed it?” demanded Ridley. “Annora botched a spell?” He was shaking his head.

  The Lintel boys broke into smiles, pumped their fists into the air, then clasped each other excitedly. The crowd cheered. They’d done it again. The Lintel boys had won for the second time in a row.

  “I don’t like this,” said Ren.

  “I don’t believe this,” said Ridley.

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean something’s wrong.”

  Annora staggered backward a step, her gaze distant, as if she didn’t recognize where she was. Her face, now pale, was streaked with sweat. Bree moved to steady her.

  Then Beck screamed out, doubling over in pain, followed a moment later by Newlin. They staggered. Every new step of their boots revealed a patch of burnt earth beneath the soles. A growing blackness spread. The seven strange objects began to hiss, producing a vaporous mist that flowed into the blackened earth and disappeared.

  Beck’s voice shrieked above the crowd. “It’s gone! My peerin! It’s gone!” He dropped to one knee, straining to remain upright as he tried again and again to spread his hands and form his peerin.

  Several people in the crowd screamed at once, and then complete chaos broke loose. People ran in all directions. A few rushed onto the field, but the most ran away. No one approached the black earth.

  “Oh, no,” said Cora, her head popping up for the first time. “Now what have they done?” She stood, her knitting tumbling to the ground.

  Ember appeared from out of the crowd. “Cora!” she cried, “we have to get them out of here!”

  Ridley quickly nudged Jasper in the ribs with his elbow, motioning with his eyes to Ember.

  When Jasper looked up, Ember was looking directly at him. “What have you done?” she accused.

  “Me?” said Jasper.

  “Did you plan this with them? How many times have you been to Dain?” Ember didn’t wait for his answer. The chaos of the crowd was growing. “There is no time,” she said to Cora. “We must get them out, now!”

  “It has to be an illusion, Ember,” explained Cora. “Nothing affects the peerin.”

  “Oh, really? Have you tried to make one?”

  Cora placed her hands together and slowly drew them apart. Her face contorted in horror.

  “No one here can raise one,” stated Ember.

  Cora glanced up and down the benches. “Where are Nye and Luna? We have to make sure they’re safe, too.”

  But Nye and Luna were nowhere to be seen.

  The arena had become a mass of people stumbling in all directions, but even as the crowd shifted, no sign of Annora or Bree could be seen either.

  “Come on!” shouted Ember, and together they pushed their way into the crowds.

  Jasper tried to stand, but someone charging out of the field knocked him back onto the bench. Suddenly, Darce appeared, holding Min and Jin. “Have you seen Meeri?” she yelled to Jasper over the crowd.

  “I thought you weren’t going—”

  “Falin! Grimm!” she shouted. “Do you have Meeri?”

  Grimm appeared, holding Prin by the hand. “Falin has her, Byrne has his brothers, Andra’s with Teague. I’ll take Jasper and Ridley.”

  Ridley backed away from Grimm. “No! Annora and Bree are my sisters!” Then Ridley ran into the confusion.

  “Ridley!” yelled Darce.

  “I’ll follow him,” said Jasper, and he dashed into the crowd.

  “Stay away from the black earth!” yelled Darce.

  The going was difficult. Elbows flew freely, and people pushed in every direction.

  Several lunamancers had gathered outside the small tent Annora and Bree had first emerged from before the match.

  “Cora! What is the meaning of this?” demanded a man.

  “This must be undone!” screamed the purple-robed lunamancer who’d been judging the contest.

  More people appeared, some carrying swords and shields with emblems that Jasper recognized as Dragondain, although the design didn’t seem quite right.

  Ember positioned herself before the opening of the tent and motioned for Cora to enter it.

  “I don’t know what’s happened here today,” she said, “but if it can be undone, then I’m sure Annora and Bree will undo it.”

  “Is this something you’ve taught them, Ember?” continued the purple-robed lunamancer. “Can you undo it? Surely you understand the implications of this? To be able to block the peerin!”

  Dyre Fellbard approached
the tent with a contingent of Dragondain from the royal court in tow. He pointed toward Ember. “That is the tent,” he shouted to them. “Remove the lunamancers within.”

  Ember pushed Ridley away from her, but held her position before the tent opening, spreading her arms.

  When the guards hesitated, Fellbard sneered, “Strike her down if you must!”

  A few of the guards reached for their hilts, but paused when the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard rang out behind them.

  “Belay that order!” someone shouted.

  A tall man carrying a dull, chiseled sword limped through the parting crowd. His face was streaked with sweat. His armor appeared to be made of dragon scales. His dark, unkempt hair was plastered to his pallid face.

  “Draw on her, and you face me first!” shouted Tavin.

  Fellbard’s face reddened. “You! How fitting. A cursed soul on a cursed field. And now you openly threaten the Dragondain, do you? This will be your final offense. They will come for you this time.”

  Tavin halted, swaying slightly and looking fevered.

  “Away!” he barked to the guards, and several of them stepped back. Fellbard, however, came forward.

  “You are no Dragondain, you pathetic lunatic,” said Dyre. “You have no authority here. You have long been banished from their ranks. You are a pestilence in our city, bringing ruin and disease to everything you touch. Look at yourself. Look what you’ve become. A beggar, and in those ridiculous scales! Are we to believe you a dragon hunter?”

  The crowd tittered.

  “You are delusional—”

  “Deluuuuuusional,” came a high-pitched metallic voice.

  Fellbard looked around him for the owner of the voice, but saw no one. “A malcontent,” he continued.

  “Maaaaaaaaalcontent,” mimicked the strange voice.

  This time, Fellbard correctly guessed Tavin’s sword was the source of the voice. He had heard the rumors, but had never heard it talk himself.

  “You are a cancerous gall,” the lunamancer continued, “that needs to be pruned from our trunk.”

  “Pruuuuuuuned,” whined Curse.

  “Guards!” yelled Fellbard, pointing to Ember. “Remove her fr—”