Flight to Dragon Isle (12 page)

He’s gone! He will never return
, Darcy thought jubilantly as he watched the high-stepping unicorns of the II and III Household Cavalry swept by in graceful lines, the dappled white of the Light Brigade and the Heavy Brigade of golden unicorns, soon to be his to command.

And so the Cortège passed by, a bright glitter of scale and helmet and claw wending down the city’s great boulevards and avenues towards the harbour.

As the final footsteps faded from the quadrangle, heads turned up: five air wings of Imperials flew low overhead to honour their dead commander. The pebbled armour of their bellies and tails filled the sky, while their wings raised skirls of snow in their wake. The young Imperial at the centre of the square stood on her hind legs and spread her great wings. Tangnost didn’t move as powerful gusts of air buffeted the watching crowds. They drew back in fear as the huge battledragon crouched, sprang and slowly rose upwards.

Quenelda gripped the railings of the balcony; she watched the squadrons swing round to come in low over the city. As they approached the Guild Square, the Imperial Black rose to take up formation in their centre. The dragons flew higher and higher, until they were dwindling specks in the sky. Then they were gone, and only a stunned silence remained. Leaning heavily on the arm of her Constable, the Queen turned back to the palace, leaving the drifting snow and the keening lament of the pipes.

‘Let me mull some wine for you, you’re frozen!’

Quenelda hadn’t moved. After she returned from her father’s memorial, she had changed back into her familiar clothes. Since then she had sat silently staring at the fire. Root fussed about the chamber, chatting mindlessly in an attempt to distract her. Both of them jumped when someone banged urgently on the outer door.

‘Lady Quenelda! Lady Quenelda!’ Quester barged in without waiting to be announced by the footman. ‘You’ve got to get down to the battleroosts. They’re taking the dragons away!’

‘What?’ Quenelda looked at him through dully uncomprehending eyes.

‘Men wearing the livery of the Grand Master.’ Quester’s tone was desperate, his face chalk-white with shock. ‘The Lord Mandrake’s men. Quenelda, they’re taking the battledragons. Dozens have already gone, by force – they are using dragon collars! Tangnost is trying to stop them, but he’s heavily outnumbered.’

Root looked from one to the other in confusion as Quenelda rose shakily to her feet. ‘Dragon collars?’ he echoed. ‘What are they?’

‘They’re vicious!’ Quenelda was almost in tears again. ‘They’re collars forged with powerful spells of
domination
and
obedience
, used to compel dragons, even Imperials, to obey. The collar eats into them, enslaves them. It’s brutal. Unskilled trainers use them. But Dragonsdome never has!’ She clenched her jaw. ‘Come on,’ she said, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. ‘We’ve got to stop them!’

With Root and Quester at her heels, Quenelda burst into the inner courtyard of the battleroosts just as, with a crack of a dragonwhip, a collared Sabretooth rose into the air from the lowered dragonpads. The courtyard and roosts below were crowded with grooms, all in the Grand Master’s livery. Orders and shouts overlaid the confusion; smoke poured from unsettled battledragons. Bound by spurred whips and dragon collars, they were being saddled in the dragonpits. Mouth open in protest, Quenelda started forward, but stumbled over something – or some
one
.

Tangnost lay unconscious on the ground at her feet, guarded by two Dragonsdome men-at-arms, who were looking very embarrassed.

‘What happened? What are you doing?’ Quenelda touched the dwarf’s bleeding head. ‘Why are you not tending him?’ she demanded furiously.

The older of the two shuffled awkwardly, not meeting her gaze. ‘Orders, Lady,’ he mumbled into his beard. ‘Orders from the Earl.’

His companion nodded anxiously. ‘The Earl-in-waiting, Lady Quenelda,’ he clarified. ‘Your brother.’

The soldiers stepped back hastily as Quenelda glared at them. ‘And did my brother order you to injure him?’

‘He wouldn’t let the Grand Master’s men in, Lady. Was about to fight them all. Their dragonmaster is a nasty bit of work – he don’t fight clean. We had to restrain Bearhugger for his own sake.’

‘You’ve knocked him out.’ Quenelda was outraged. ‘From behind!’

‘Lady, it was the only way.’ The older soldier grinned nervously at her. ‘Would have got injured ourselves otherwise!’

‘You must look after him now,’ she ordered them. ‘Fetch the apothecary.’

The soldiers jumped to obey, grateful to have a task that was more to their liking. Root looked at Quenelda. She had changed so much of late, more and more of her father revealing himself in her manner. The men respected her; she was still a young girl, but they jumped to obey. He’d heard the scathing remarks about her brother in the eating halls and barracks

‘Who’s in charge of this?’ Quenelda asked.

‘He’s in the Sabretooth roosts, lady. Tall, thin, in black leather …’

‘Thank you.’ Quenelda gave a smile, though it didn’t reach her hollow haunted eyes. Leaving Quester with Tangnost, she and Root weaved through the milling grooms and esquires.

Two Gulps?
she called from deep within her mind.

Dancing with Dragons?
came the distraught reply.
Strangers – they are taking my brothers and sisters
…
They are compelling them
…
The magic is baleful – it hurts
…

Quenelda stormed into the Sabretooth roosts. She stopped on the threshold, unable to believe what she was seeing. Dragons were being harnessed with rings of dull metal. A tall man with his back to them was shouting orders. Aghast, she saw he was wearing dragonskin leathers, along with vicious dragon spurs. He had a long sword strapped across his back, and a whip in his hand.

Eeaaaaakkaaa!

Everyone cringed when Two Gulps called out a greeting to Quenelda as she stormed up to the man, thrusting herself between him and her dragon.

‘How dare you lay hands on my father’s battle-dragons!
Who are you?
’

The man turned to consider her, casually scratching his lice-infested head. His pale face was cross-hatched with scars, and most of his teeth were missing. Dressed all in black from his boots to the bandolier that was heavy with weapons, he towered above her. On his sleeve he bore the badge of a red adder on black. Bowing mockingly to the young girl, he peeled lips back from gums dark with chewing tobacco and spat at her feet.

‘Knuckle Quarnack, Dragonmaster to his lordship the Grand Master, at your service,’ he said insolently.

‘What are you doing here?’ Quenelda’s voice was shrill with fear.

The man slowly scrutinized the girl in breeches and scuffed jerkin, a contemptuous smile curling his lips. ‘What’s it to you, girl?’

‘This is my father’s battleroost.’

‘Well,’ Quarnack said lazily. ‘Yer Ladyship, I’d say it were the new Earl’s battleroosts. Got the pick of your stables for breeding stock, I does. Taking ’em to his Lordship’s stud in the North Lands.’

‘On whose authority?’ Quenelda’s eyes glittered dangerously.

‘The young Earl’s.’ The man smiled and scratched at a crop of flea bites on his chin. ‘Well, he’ll be the Earl in a few days’ time. All the same to me.’ He reached into his jerkin and held out a crumpled barkscroll.

Quenelda, with Root at her side, examined the carelessly scrawled signature and wax seal with growing anger. They were indeed Darcy’s.

Quarnack eyed Two Gulps and You’re Gone, who had moved close to Quenelda. ‘And this one, lads.
Especially
this one.’

Quenelda rounded on him in fury. ‘You can’t. He’s mine! My father gave him to me.’

‘We take him, nonetheless.’ Quarnack waved the man to move forward. ‘His Lordship’s orders.’

Root stepped bravely into his path. ‘Lady Quenelda said you were to leave this dragon alone.’

Quarnack pointedly kept his gaze above the boy’s head, a smile on his lips.

Root bridled. ‘You—’

‘Root.’ Quenelda softened her caution with a smile as she gently touched his shoulder. She had a better idea. But before she could do anything, another voice rang through the roost.

‘Get out of here! Now!’ Tangnost’s command held a promise of trouble for whoever disobeyed him. ‘Leave, or you will regret it. The Lord Darcy is not yet Earl here.’

Quarnack’s eyes narrowed, hand hovering over the wand strapped to his right thigh. Tangnost’s fearsome reputation gave him pause for thought. The battle-hardened dwarf held his heavy double-headed axe casually in one hand. Behind him, Bonecrackers crowded the door arch, and it looked as if they were in an argumentative mood. It would be a battle between cold steel and magic …

Taking advantage of Tangnost’s arrival, Quenelda sent out a command:
Fight! Fight!

There was sudden pandemonium. The dragons assumed battle readiness. Wings outstretched, they reared up on their hind legs, front talons ready to strike, necks extended, mouths open to flame. Without looking, Quenelda could tell from Quarnack’s pale face that Two Gulps was treating him to a glimpse of the fire that burned hot in his belly. Smoke lapped about the Dragonmaster’s feet.

Quarnack’s eyes narrowed as he took a step backwards. How had the old dwarf done that? He had not seen or heard a signal. His eyes flicked to Quenelda. He had heard about the events in the Cauldron – who hadn’t? But he had dismissed it all as exaggeration. After all, no one had been able to see much through the snow, just as his master had intended. Lord Hugo’s dragonmaster dismissed her and came to a decision. Seeing murder in the man’s eyes as his hand fell to the long iron wand strapped to his leg, Quenelda acted.

Flame! A warning only
…

Flame spewed out of the dragons’ nostrils, licking around Quarnack and singeing his eyebrows and nose. He howled with outrage as the Grand Master’s handlers ran for their lives. One dived into a water trough to escape the flames.

‘We’ll be back, little girl,’ Quarnack shouted from the arched doorway as he beat out the flames on his burning clothes. ‘We’ll be back. You just wait and see.’

Quenelda was almost hysterical by the time she reached the Great Hall. Darcy was lounging on the raised dais, boots on the table. The trestles were laden with food and drink, and crowded with drunken young men and extravagantly dressed young ladies. It was more like a festival than a wake for her father.

Quenelda threaded her way through the chaos. ‘Why have you ordered our father’s battledragons to be sent away?’ she asked him desperately.

‘I told you that he wouldn’t come home one day.’ Darcy looked triumphant. ‘Now
I’m
Earl. Dragonsdome is mine!’

‘No, it’s not! Dragonsdome is mine!’ Quenelda protested hotly. ‘Papa has chosen me. Look!’ She held up her right hand with the signet ring on her thumb.

‘That rightfully belongs to me!’ Darcy shouted and, darting forward, he seized Quenelda’s hand. ‘Where did you get that? You must have stolen it! It’s mine – give it to me!’ He tried to wrestle the white-gold ring off her finger.

Quenelda screamed. He twisted her hand brutally, trying to pull the ring off, but he couldn’t budge it.

‘Papa gave it to me!’ she shouted, trying to ignore the ripple of amusement that had swept the hall at her ridiculous assertion.

‘And you can’t just get rid of all the dragons here! I—’

‘Can’t I?’ Her brother stood up, cutting her off. ‘I think,’ he said loudly with a satisfied smirk, ‘you will find that there isn’t much that I can’t do, little sister.’

The talk about them gradually stilled. Darcy could not keep the malice from his smile.

‘But they’ve already taken half the battlegriffs and battledragons! The best in Papa’s stud. The SDS
need
those dragons.’ Quenelda was on the verge of tears..

‘So does the Grand Master. He needs all our battle-dragons, including that dangerous mount you ride.’

Quenelda turned white. ‘I won’t let you take him.’

‘And how, little sister,’ Darcy sneered, ‘do you propose to stop me?’

‘I can,’ Quenelda said, calmly holding his gaze. ‘He trusts no one except Tangnost and me. You won’t find anyone else able to get near him.’

High spots of colour marked Darcy’s fury. Then, unexpectedly, he seemed to change his mind. ‘If you want to stop that dragon of yours being taken to the north’ – his eyes were bright now – ‘or any of the others, then you will have to attend my Knighthood and Investiture Ceremony in two days’ time. Acknowledge me as the true Earl and give me that ring. It’s mine. It was never yours.’

That silenced her. Quenelda stared at him bitterly. She would do anything to protect the dragons, and Darcy knew it:
anything
. Two Gulps was a gift from her father, the only thing that was hers in a world suddenly knocked askew. She nodded sullenly and tried to pull off the ring. It coiled more tightly about her thumb and wouldn’t shift.

‘Let me try again.’ Darcy tugged viciously, and then yelped, clutching his finger as the dragon reared and spat flame at him.

‘How dare you!’ he hissed at Quenelda, who was looking at the ring in amazement. ‘How did you do that?’ He sucked his bleeding fingers, unsheathing his wand. The air became charged.

‘No matter, beloved.’ Armelia lightly placed a hand on Darcy’s side, glancing warningly at Quenelda. ‘You can have another crafted, darling. There are many records of it in the library. None will be able to tell the difference.’

Darcy nodded, and sat down drunkenly. He belched loudly.

‘And if you disobey me, there will be no more dragons for you, little sister. You are going straight to Grimalkin’s, where they’ll knock all that unladylike nonsense about dragons and inheritance right out of you.’

Quenelda felt faint. She turned and ran, the laughter of Darcy and his cohorts chasing her.

Armelia felt a stab of sympathy as she watched Quenelda retreat. ‘You will let her keep that dragon, won’t you?’ she pleaded. She is distraught, and it is all she has left after losing her father.’