Voices of Dragons

20

He was right where she’d asked him to be, near the creek, downstream a ways from where she met Artegal. She stared for a moment then, angry, scrambled to him.

“Jon! What are you doing here?”

“I can’t let you do this by yourself.”

“You don’t even know what I’m doing!”

He didn’t say anything, because she was right. She was sort of disappointed, because she wanted to argue with him.

“It’s better if you stay out of it,” she said, grabbing the strap of the duffel bag and pulling it away from him. The coils of rope were lying at his feet, and she picked those up as well. She started hiking along the stream toward the clearing.

Jon followed. She thought of yelling at him, but that wouldn’t make him stop. She’d have to go back herself, not meet Artegal and not go through with the plan.

Tempting.

“Jon. Please.” She turned on him and glared.

“I’m worried about you. I want to help.”

She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t want to have to worry about him, too. Maybe she’d been wrong to ask for his help at all. She kept walking. “You can’t help.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s…it’s too big. There’s too much to explain. I’m sorry, Jon. I’m just…I’m sorry.”

She hiked, he followed, and she didn’t argue with him again. The whole point of this was to reveal the big secret, to go public. May as well start now. She had no idea how he’d react once he realized what she was doing. He may never speak to her again for keeping this from him. That almost made her stop; she didn’t think she could handle it if Jon stopped talking to her. But he wouldn’t do that; she wouldn’t like him so much if he was the kind of guy who would do that.

Only a few minutes of hiking brought them to the creek. It glittered in the sunlight. Beyond, the forest looked no different than it did on this side of the border.

“That’s the border, isn’t it?” he said, stopping at the edge of the water, staring. “We can’t go over there. They’ll kill us.” He pursed his lips. “Somebody’ll kill us.”

“It’ll be okay,” she said, wishing she sounded more confident. She looked around; if anyone else had followed her, she couldn’t see them. “Jon, no matter what happens, don’t be angry with me. Please?”

“No, of course not. I just…I just want to understand with this is about.”

He would, soon enough. She kissed Jon’s cheek, squeezed his hand, then crossed the log bridge over the partly frozen creek.

He held back, looking at her with panic in his eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she’d taken crossing the border for granted. How deeply ingrained the rules had been until she’d met Artegal by accident.

“Kay?” Jon called, not moving.

Kay had only just touched the opposite bank when a familiar noise grew louder—at first, it blended with the jangle of running water. It sounded like a breeze. But Kay knew what it was. Something large with heavy footfalls moved through the forest.

Artegal appeared, neck snaking forward, shadowy body moving into view.

Jon’s eyes widened. “Oh my God—”

“No, Jon, wait.”

He stumbled back, tripping over himself as he started to run away. At the same time, Artegal reared back, curling his neck, spreading his wings, making himself appear larger. A hot breath snorted from his nose and fogged in clouds.

Jon was beyond words, his face locked in terror.

“Jon! Artegal! Stop!” She called to Jon and looked over her shoulder to Artegal, unsure who she should yell at first.

Jon fell, limbs splayed, gazing up at the monster that had stopped at the edge of the water, as if he might spring forward. Artegal had lowered himself to peer more closely at the strange human. Kay was standing next to his huge head, but he hardly seemed to notice her.

“This is my friend, Jon,” Kay said to the dragon. “Jon, this is…this is Artegal.”

Kay’s two friends studied each other.

“Oh my God,” Jon breathed, his voice shaking a little.

After a long moment, the dragon breathed, “Hello.”

“Jesus, Kay!” Jon said. Kay tried to remember the terror she’d felt the first time the scaled face looked down on her. She couldn’t remember it very well.

“It’s okay, Jon! I swear to you it’s okay.”

Artegal turned to her, head shifting on snakelike neck. “Why is he here?”

Sadly, she said, “He wouldn’t stay away.”

“It talks!” Jon said.

“Of course he does,” she said.

“You can’t come with us,” Artegal said.

Jon looked like he was having trouble breathing. Never taking his eyes off the dragon, he sat up. “C-come with you? Where?”

Artegal nodded, a tip of his narrow snout, and turned to Kay. “We should go.”

“Go? Kay, what are you doing?” Jon demanded.

“Jon, please go home. If you see my mom—I don’t know what to tell her. Make up some excuse. Just keep them from looking here.” She put on her climbing harness and started laying out the ropes. Artegal crouched to where she could throw them over his back.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Jon said. “Kay, that’s crazy.”

Kay secured the knots over Artegal’s chest before turning on him. “Jon, please, we have to do this.”

“But why—”

Artegal’s head lifted, his neck straightening. He looked around, scanning the area, nostrils flaring.

They’d been arguing, not paying attention. Kay tensed, anxious to spot what had startled the dragon. She heard only one thing: the rapid beat of an approaching helicopter. Then she saw people, men in black fatigues, rifles pointed ahead of them, emerging through the trees. The first was visible a dozen yards behind Jon, but when Kay turned, she seemed to find them everywhere. She hadn’t heard them at all.

Now, they surrounded the area.

Action erupted. A couple of the soldiers shouted cryptic one-word orders and replies. Something launched from the trees, and Kay choked on a scream because she thought it was a bullet or a rocket. She realized then that she’d believed no one would shoot at her, that even if the soldiers did follow her and find her with Artegal, they wouldn’t shoot.

But the shot wasn’t a weapon—it was some kind of net, weighted on the corners, that flattened as it sailed toward Artegal, too fast to dodge. The dragon turned, shouldering it away. Instinctively, he batted at it with a claw, and the net tangled around his arm and wing—as it was supposed to. Twisting his neck, he snapped at it, snarling, exhaling smoke.

Branigan hadn’t really expected her to spy on Artegal. So he used her to trap him.

Shouting now, Kay ran forward to tug the net away.

“Artegal, stop a minute!” He did, looking at her, his black eyes wide.

She jumped up to reach the tangled length of the net, grabbed it, pulled. She couldn’t find the ends, couldn’t find where it had gotten caught; the more she tugged and twisted the net’s ropes, the more snarled they became.

Artegal stretched his head high, his neck curving over her, which must have given him a view of the whole clearing, and of the soldiers swarming toward them. She was close to his chest and heard him inhale, his body expanding, and a sound like a growl rattling deep in his chest.

Then, he exhaled, an explosive burst of air—and fire.

The dragon turned, sweeping a line of fire in a long arc around them, clearing a space, keeping the soldiers at bay. It sounded like a forge, a blow torch, and Kay fell to the ground, arms over her head, choking at the soot-and-ash smell of it, her head ringing with the sound of trees catching fire. Heat washed over her. It was just like the fire in town, flames meant to kill. She was in the middle of it, and she couldn’t move.

“No! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

Sheltered under Artegal’s body, Kay looked. Jon dashed across the stream, splashing in the water, not bothering with the bridge. He was yelling at the soldiers, who now turned and leveled their weapons at him. Once again, Kay almost screamed in panic. But there came a shouted order to stand down. A few of the trees burned, orange flames climbing, sending up tendrils of smoke, and one of the soldiers yelled into a radio.

Artegal’s fire had kept the soldiers back, had made them hesitate. He’d given her more time. She got back to work, and this time the net came free. With a shudder the dragon shed the rest of it.

“Kay, now,” Artegal said with a snort. He crouched low, hunched protectively over her.

Kay grabbed the ropes and hauled herself onto Artegal’s back. He launched, straight up.

“Stop! Hold it!” There must have been a half dozen gruff male voices yelling at her, commanding her.

A noise popped like a firecracker.

“Don’t shoot!” she heard Jon yell again.

Then she didn’t hear anything but wind in her ears.

She didn’t have her harness clipped on. She looped the ropes around her arms and clung to them, keeping herself flat against the dragon’s back because that made her more stable.

“I’m not hooked in!” she shouted to him, and thumped his shoulder. She felt the snort of acknowledgment echo through his lungs.

They didn’t have to do any fancy flying. That wasn’t the plan for this trip. They just needed to be seen.

Once clear of the trees, Artegal leveled off. His wings flapped hard, and she hadn’t realized how much soaring he’d done on their other flights. Those had been almost leisurely, riding thermals, swooping in circles, his wings stretched like sails, sometimes not moving at all. Now, his muscles bunched, released, the wings scooping over and over as they flew faster and faster, wind whipping past her. She wasn’t built for this. Artegal, on the other hand, was streamlined, cutting through the air like a missile. She couldn’t see over his shoulder to judge their location, but he must have covered miles in the last few minutes.

She heard a strange, distant thumping—mechanical, sinister. Helicopter. She looked around and saw it past the shadow of Artegal’s moving wing. There were several of them, coming from all directions; a couple were black, sleek and military, but a couple of others were white, with news channel markings on the sides. Artegal tipped up, spun, and banked out of the way. They couldn’t follow. But there was no doubt that they’d seen her. He showed his back to them all.

The military had kept the pictures of their earlier flight secret. This time, Kay and Artegal needed to be seen by the cameras.

When Artegal banked again, she saw that they were well over the border, just like they’d planned, sailing near the highway that ran toward Silver River. Someone had to see them. The news crews wouldn’t be able to resist getting pictures.

She’d planned to have the harness clipped on. Then, she’d be able to straighten, lean back, wave her arms around, shout, and draw as much attention as possible. They may still see her, flattened and clinging to Artegal’s back, but it wouldn’t be as impressive. It wouldn’t be as clear that they were partners in this. Hell, unless she moved around, she might look dead, strapped to his back in some morbid display.

After unlacing one hand from the rope, she found the carabiner at the front of her harness. Her heart was racing. She hoped Artegal didn’t make any sudden lurches while she was dangling like this. Don’t look down, she murmured to herself over and over. Don’t look down, don’t look down. She kept her gaze focused on the ropes and the gleaming scales of Artegal’s back.

Her gloved hand couldn’t work the carabiner on the harness, so she took the glove off with her teeth. Her hand started shaking in the freezing air. Or maybe she was just that scared.

This will be worth it, she told herself. Writhing, she maneuvered up the rope to the loop in the middle of Artegal’s back, clinging so tightly, her hands were going numb.

Then, finally, she snapped on to the loop of rope.

“I’m hooked in!” she yelled.

Artegal roared. Then he corkscrewed. Kay screeched with fright. And, if she was honest, excitement.

The land, snow-patched spring meadows and stretches of forest, rolled under her, then buildings from the town appeared. Artegal dipped, swooping close enough that she could see cars on the road, see them screeching to a halt, and see tiny people climbing out and looking up. The news vans, where were the news vans?

Outside the temporary FBBE headquarters, where they’d been parked all week. She found the knots in the rope of the harness and pressed the left-hand one into Artegal’s shoulder. He veered in that direction. She wished she could explain to him exactly what they were looking for. Satellite dishes on top of vans. People with cameras and microphones.

If they circled long enough, though, someone would call in the cameras.

Unless Artegal banked, she couldn’t see what they were flying over. She could, however, see what else was flying. Craning her head, she spotted two or three military helicopters. Rapid popping noises, like stuttering fireworks, rattled the air.

Machine guns. They were firing.

Artegal veered sharply, and for a heart-stopping moment Kay thought he’d been shot. She looked around for blood. But there’d been no flinch of pain; the dragon was simply altering his flight path to make himself less of a target. He rose, dived, and spun, and Kay started to feel a little airsick. She clamped her eyes shut, but that made it worse, so she concentrated on keeping her gaze on the ropes across the dragon’s back.

He kept ahead of them—that was what had always maintained the balance, that dragons were as fast as anything flown by humans. But they kept firing. Artegal dropped in altitude, and dropped again. They weren’t shooting at him, she realized. They were trying to force him to land.

In response, he dived sharply and twisted, and she gasped, clinging even harder to the ropes. She was sure she was locked in, but that didn’t stop the panic. He was weaving, turning, swooping in circles, barely high enough to clear buildings, and he’d left the helicopters far behind. When he leveled off, he was skimming the ground. She looked across and saw trees at their level.

If this didn’t work, nothing would.

Kneeling on his back, Kay let the harness take her weight. She raised her arms, stretching them straight up. The wind punched into her, and she laughed.

They would be seen. No doubt about it. A role model for the community, her father had said. The sheriff’s daughter—the hero’s daughter, the captions on the photos had read. Kay didn’t know how real any of that was. She certainly didn’t feel like a role model. But her father had been right, and people would pay particular attention to this, and treat it as more than a stunt, because of who she was.

Looking up, she saw news helicopters along with the military helicopters, and Kay wondered what kind of conversation was going on between their radios. The air was getting crowded. But she waved at them, hoping they could see her smile.

Artegal must have also felt they were getting hemmed in, because his wings started pumping again, and he climbed, ignoring gunfire and pursuing helicopters. She was so worried about him getting shot, she stopped worrying about falling.

This was only the first part of it. They’d been seen by the human side. Now, they needed to be seen by the dragons. He headed north and west, to the border, to the narrow valleys where they had practiced flying. Kay huddled on Artegal’s back, wrapped in her coat for warmth, as he rocketed deeper into dragon territory.

This flight wasn’t as exhilarating as the others had been. Before, they’d been playing. This flight had purpose. It was serious, more serious than anything she’d ever done. More serious even than her father’s funeral, which had, in some ways, seemed like watching a movie about someone else. But this—she felt her blood rushing in her ears.

She wanted to know she was going to be okay when this was all over. Artegal was taking her to see dragons. She wondered if this was what it felt like to go to war.

She wondered if she ought to be waving a white flag of truce.

The mountains grew closer. Artegal pointed toward them like an arrow. All the times she had looked north, watching the dragons, specks soaring in the distance, she never thought she’d be this close. Now, she wondered if she had secretly wanted to go to them all this time, like climbing a rock face that was off limits, an exotic spot on her map. She wanted to see, just for a moment.

When Artegal veered, she looked over, around the sail of his wing, and saw them. Dragons, three of them, like castles in the sky, growing larger as they approached.

It was far too late to change her mind, to turn back, and she grew afraid. She didn’t want to do this; she didn’t want to be here. She huddled on Artegal’s back, but there was no way the blue and red ropes and her black parka would blend in with his scales.

A roar echoed toward them, then modulated, changing pitch, tone, rhythm. Artegal roared back in a clipped way she’d never heard before, different from his full-lunged shouts. Speech. This was how dragons talked to one another.

He climbed and spun so that his back faced them. This was what they’d come here to do, just like showing off for the news cameras. She had to do her part now.

She crouched to her knees, braced against the harness, and waved, making sure the dragons could see her.

Two of the dragons were different shades of green; one was brilliant red, like a ruby. They split apart, arcing around Artegal, coming from both sides, and flanked him, penning him in.

They could force him down in a way the helicopters couldn’t. They could match his speed, his maneuverability. They were bigger than he was. Artegal was a young dragon, after all. If they caught him, what would they do with her?

Take me home, Kay wanted to yell, but the wind would carry her words away.

Then she thought, maybe Branigan was right. He was a spy, and he’d been planning to carry her back to Dragon and keep her hostage all along. Everyone would know where she was because they’d flown over Silver River. They’d advertised the fact that he was kidnapping her. She was an idiot. She should have stayed home. This whole time, she should have stayed home. She never should have gone back to meet Artegal that second time. The dragons were soaring toward them now, gaining altitude, getting above Artegal so they could force him to the ground. And Artegal wasn’t doing anything.

But that was a ruse. A moment later, he dropped a wing.

His whole body tipped sideways and fell, low enough that his wing cut into the treetops. Then he raced up, wings pumping hard. The pressure of the harness dug into her, and ropes dug into the scales of his shoulders, and she was almost floating, hanging against the harness.

He flew higher than they ever had, and she started to wonder how high he could go, and if it would be too high for her, because the air was thin even here, and she was having trouble drawing breath. But he wasn’t flying straight up. He was making an arc. A high, narrow arc. At the apex of it, he seemed to hang for a moment, hovering, motionless, his wings swept back, his nose pointed down. The other dragons were far below them.

He dived. As they dropped, his speed increased. He fell like a bomb to the silver ribbon of water that was the border, and while the other dragons might reach him, they couldn’t stop something going so fast.

The speed and cold tried to flay the skin from her face. She wanted to look, to watch the ground come up, to see what the other dragons did. But she had to bury her face in her sleeve and cling to the ropes while she tugged against the clip on the harness, seemingly weightless.

When Artegal spun, she tried to brace and ride with it as they’d practiced. But this was different, flailing, out of control—his wings stuck out, flapping loudly, caught against the air instead of using it. Kay jerked against the harness. And Artegal fell.

It shouldn’t have been possible—he was made for flying, built for the sky. But he tumbled until, with a massive grunt and shudder through his whole body, he spread his wings, which filled with air. His body jerked, swung, yanked to a stop. Kay crashed into his back. Then she saw what had happened.

Jets rocketed overhead—Kay didn’t hear them because they were moving too fast, leaving the roaring sound of their engines behind them. They went right overhead, maybe only a few hundred feet above them. Probably more, but it felt close, close enough to knock Artegal out of the air with their passage.

Artegal climbed again. As far as she could tell, he was trying to regain his bearings. She could almost feel his heart beating through his back, and she wished she could see his face, to tell if he was worried, scared, angry, or something else.

Now that the jets had passed on, she could hear them, a mechanical scream that didn’t sound at all like the dragons calling to one anther. Two of them, flying side by side, the new, super-agile jets. The Dragonslayers. They arced around, tracing a vast circle around the area.

The other three dragons turned to pursue the jets. The jets broke apart, made sharp turns, and moved to face them. Artegal hovered, watching. He seemed poised between wanting to join in the fight and wanting to flee.

The three dragons engaged the jets.

If they’d been conventional jets, the dragons would have flown circles around them. But when the dragons spun and twisted, their long tails coiling and snapping behind them, wings dipping and flapping, these jets turned with them, pivoting on their specially designed engines. Two of the dragons worked together to keep one of the jets between them—for a moment, they looked as if they were trying to trap it, to grab it in their claws as they’d snatch at their prey. The jets and bodies of the dragons were almost the same size, but with their long necks and tails, the dragons were bigger and could envelop the aircraft. The jet’s afterburners flared, and it rocketed ahead, out of reach.

At the same time, the other jet spun toward them, dodging out of the way of the third dragon, harassing it. It fired. Guns or missiles or something. Kay only saw something flare like a spark from the jet’s underbelly, and trails of white smoke flew away from it. But nothing happened. Whatever it was, it didn’t hit anything.

It was a real dogfight, like in an old war movie. They looked like crows fighting over a scrap of food. Kay couldn’t follow the actions, couldn’t guess what each player would do next. Artegal groaned. Kay felt it through his back, a rumble like thunder.

The first jet broke away from the two pursuers, and again the other jet fired. The dragons dodged—nothing would hit them. The second jet was intent on helping the other, on firing at the two dragons, which were leading it away, drawing it on—giving the third dragon, the scarlet one, a chance to act.

The red dragon pounced. That was what it looked like. It leaped up in the air, gaining extra altitude, somehow flying even higher than it had, as if launching from a solid base. Then it fell over the apex of its arc. But it didn’t spread its wings, it didn’t try to halt its descent, it didn’t catch its fall. At the last moment, when it was right on top of the aircraft, it reached out with its hind legs and landed hard, claws digging into steel, scrabbling for purchase around wings, engines, canopy, rivets, and seams, whatever it could catch.

The jet fell. The dragon’s weight slammed into it, and the pilot lost control. The plane flipped sideways and plummeted. Engines flamed to life as the pilot tried to regain control. Kay tried to imagine what he was saying over the radio. She wondered if it was Captain Conner.

Spinning now, the two tangled together, the dragon’s tail coiled around the craft’s body like a snake, his fanged jaws closed over the canopy. The jet straightened, wobbled—then the dragon lurched, stuck out a wing, tipping the plane off balance again, and they went back to tumbling.

If he had let go, if he had let the aircraft escape, they both could have survived. Maybe he couldn’t let go. Maybe he was locked in, stuck, trapped—too dizzy to think. Or maybe he just wouldn’t.

Artegal screamed his own fierce jet-engine roar and plunged after them, wings flapping, reaching toward speed. But it was too late; he was too far behind. And he couldn’t have done anything. Jet and dragon together plunged into the treetops of the forest, and a moment later a fireball exploded, rolling, cutting a path of flames through the trees. The sound was a different kind of roar, a rush of fire. A moment after that, a wave of heat passed over them. A thick, black tower of smoke, like the one they’d followed to Captain Conner’s crash, rose high over the forest.

Kay was crying. Her nose was running. She couldn’t think. She would never get that image out of her mind.

The other jet climbed, circled, then sped south, back toward its base.

Artegal lurched forward, flying fast, but without purpose or destination. He dipped, swooped, and finally fell into a pattern that made a wide circle around the place where the jet and dragon had crashed. She didn’t look down toward the fire burning below. She didn’t want to see what was there.

The other two dragons, the green ones who were left, circled with Artegal. They called to one another across the distance with roars and whistles. Kay wished she knew what they were saying. It may as well have been Latin. Were they older dragons? Could they remember a time when people and dragons worked together? If so, would they understand, or would seeing Artegal and Kay together only make them angry?

She almost thought she could understand them—the roars became deeper, the whistles more insistent, angrier, maybe. The green dragons loomed above Artegal. She could imagine them plunging down on her in the same way the red one had landed on the plane.

Artegal stretched his wings and wheeled away. South, back toward the border. He flapped his wings and stretched out, the way he flew when he wanted speed. Kay looked over her shoulder—the other dragons didn’t follow. They looped, soared, dived, and watched them fly away, but continued marking the spot where the red dragon had fallen.

When they came within sight of the river, Artegal didn’t dive, but slowly descended until he skimmed the treetops, the tips of the pines brushing and waving at his passage. Sailing on outstretched wings, he landed, touching his feet to the ground, leaning forward on his wings, and settling his body to earth.

They stayed there, still, a long time. Artegal rested, catching his breath, head hung low on a curved neck. She lay flat, trying to understand what had happened, trying to think of what to do next. It was easier simply to lie here.

Finally, because it probably annoyed Artegal having her hanging off him, she braced her weight to put slack in the harness and unclipped herself. She slid down Artegal’s shoulder to the ground.

He turned slightly, only changing the angle of his head, to look at her. His eyes were shining. His mouth was long, frowning. They gazed at each other for a long time. Kay didn’t know what to say. She was still crying, softly this time, tears falling, freezing on her cheek.

“Now I’ve lost someone, too,” Artegal said.

“Who—who was he?” she managed to stammer.

“Brother’s mentor.”

It wasn’t quite an uncle. She wondered what the relationship meant to a dragon, how important someone like that would be. She didn’t understand. How could she grieve with him if she didn’t understand? How could they even talk?

“I’m sorry,” she said.

With a sigh, he tipped his nose to the ground. He’d never done that before. He’d brought his head low; he’d looked her in the eye at her level. But she’d never seen him rest his head, as if it were too heavy to hold up.

She wondered if dragons cried.

Hesitating, she touched his face, the narrow ridge of his snout that ran between his eyes. He blinked, left his eyes half closed, and nudged himself closer. Then she was hugging him, wrapping her arms around the narrow part of his neck, behind his head.

“Was this our fault?” she said. “Did they fight because of us?”

His breaths were sighs, like he was tired. “Would have happened. If not now, then later.”

“What are we going to do?”

He shuddered slightly—a shrug, almost. She stepped away so he could look at her more easily. “If we can, we should make something of this. Already too many sacrifices. This will make it worse. Before, it was two warriors shaking their claws at each other. Now, there will be armies. Not skirmishes, but battles.”

She could see it, because the Dracopolis book had pictures of it: a swarm of dragons filling the sky, a tapestry of wings. Below them, a sea of human beings with siege engines. Now, when the humans had jets and bombs, how much worse would it be?

How did you stop such a thing? Too many sacrifices, he’d said.

Artegal looked up, studied the sky, as if he had heard something that she had not. “We should go. Quickly. They’ll find us. Catch us. Can’t let that happen.”

It seemed inevitable at this point. Why fight it? She wanted to throw a tantrum. Stand up and just scream for them to stop it—why couldn’t they all just stop it?

Maybe she ought to try it. What was there to lose? Herself and her mother. A friendship. She undid his harness, helped him pull it off his back, and began coiling it. She had a weird idea.

“Artegal?”

He’d been studying the sky again, but snorted and looked at her. They’d discussed the book. She’d brought translations to share, and he’d told her what he’d been able to translate. They’d studied the extra sheet of paper tucked in the back and tried to understand what it meant—a treasure map, Kay thought; a lost cave of dragons still in hiding, Artegal thought. In Greenland? she wondered. But they hadn’t talked about everything in the book, and so she asked.

“The Dracopolis book talks about virgin sacrifices. About how, in the old days, villages would give virgins to the dragons to make them stop attacking. Did that actually work?”

He tilted his head—a sign of curiosity. “I think it did. It was a sign of what people were willing to give for peace.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Did the dragons actually eat the girls who were sacrificed?”

“I think it depended on the dragon. Some were kept, like pets. At least that’s what our stories say.”

This was grim. She could understand the knights coming after the dragons, willing to fight to stop such a thing. But she could also understand being desperate enough to sacrifice one person to save everyone, to stop a war.

One last question, one that should have occurred to Kay a long time ago. It was the big overriding question of her life, at least according to Tam.

“Why virgins?” she asked Artegal.

He snorted a foggy breath. “I don’t know. That was the humans’ idea. We can’t tell the difference.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, but that didn’t stop the bubble of laughter. It was sharp, too loud in their quiet clearing. Artegal jerked, startled, raised his head, and stared.

We can’t tell the difference. That made the whole question wonderful, didn’t it? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if she was or not.

She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. It’s just—you’re right. It’s not important. But here’s the thing, Artegal. I am one. And if we could, do you think it would work?”

“A sacrifice?” he breathed.

“I mean, you wouldn’t have to eat me. You wouldn’t, would you?”

“Silly. No,” he said.

“It wouldn’t even have to be a real sacrifice. We pretend that it is. We make a big show of it—” And then what? Go back to the way they were? The whole point of a sacrifice was to change everything, to make sure things didn’t stay the same.

“The elders wouldn’t believe it. They trusted humans to keep the border. They were betrayed.”

“That’s why we don’t leave it up to them. Not the elders, not the air force, not anybody. We do it ourselves.”

He thought for a moment—still, unmoving. A great statue of a dragon. “We do this—then what? You can’t return home, for it to be true.”

You can’t offer yourself as a sacrifice and expect to go back to school the next day. Was she willing to do that, to leave home? She’d never been sure about what she wanted to do with her life, except have adventures. Well, this was it.

“East,” she said. “We go to the place on the secret map.”

“May be nothing there.”

“But I think there is,” she said.

“Yes. Me too.”

The rhythmic thumping of helicopters sounded nearby. The world intruded. Fallout from the battle was about to sweep over them.

“We must go,” he said, ducking, his neck curving close.

How were they going to plan this thing, if they really were? She wished he had a cell phone. She wished a cell phone existed that was big enough for him to use.

“How will I talk to you?” she said, her heart pounding.

“The other place, where we met to fly. Your people don’t know of it. Leave notes. I’ll look. Every morning, if I can.”

“Okay, yes.”

“This thing. We should try.” The ridges over his eyes were arced, giving him a fierce look. His eyes shone. It may have been her imagination, but the colors of his scales seemed to shimmer, taking on blacks and reds.

“We’ll think of something. Hey, I need to hide the harness somewhere. It almost got me in trouble this time. They’re watching me. They’ll take it from me if they catch me. Can you hide it? Would you be able to take it?” She pulled off her own climbing harness and clipped it to the ropes, to keep all the gear together.

To answer, he stretched forward a hind foot and closed the claws around the coils of rope. They looked like a tangle of thread in his grip.

“Kay,” he said. “Take care.”

“You too.” She reached out her hand, and he nudged it with his nose. He turned and launched, and the trees around the clearing swayed and rustled at the sudden burst of wind his wings made.

She went south, toward the river.