‘A camouflaged Western Drake?’ I breathe, getting to my feet. ‘That was lucky.’
‘Lucky?’ Marquis snarls. ‘It was downright miraculous.’ He turns to Atlas. ‘What the fuck were you thinking? Ralph was going to let us walk out of there.’
‘We can’t let the loquisonus get into the wrong hands,’ Atlas says calmly.
‘It wouldn’t have mattered, Atlas,’ I say gently. ‘This loquisonus doesn’t have an output switch, so Wyvernmire can’t use it to—’
‘Shut up, all of you,’ Gideon says. He casts a glance up in the direction of the Western Drake. ‘It might hear us.’
We fall into a nervous silence.
‘All we know,’ Marquis whispers, ‘is that the wyverns are tunnellers. That means we’ll find them, oh, I don’t know, some time next year.’
A quiet groan comes from Serena. I hadn’t noticed her still sitting on the ground, cradling her arm.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘Shot, I think.’ She winces.
My stomach lurches as Marquis drops to the ground beside her. He pulls her sleeve away to reveal a small, circular wound, a split in the skin that looks deep enough to need stitches.
‘Is the bullet still in there?’ Atlas asks, pulling supplies out of his pack.
Marquis nods as he takes the bandages and the bottle of alcohol.
Serena grimaces. ‘Don’t I need surgery?’
‘I’ve seen kids shoot at each other on this island,’ Gideon says. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to go digging around for that bullet. It’s better left where it is.’
‘The wound will get infected if it isn’t closed,’ Atlas says. ‘Serena, you’re going to have to go back to Eigg, find a medic.’
Serena shrieks as Marquis pours alcohol over the wound, then begins to bandage it.
‘No,’ she says shakily. ‘I’m not spending the most decisive weeks of the war in a hospital bed.’ She reaches for her own pack and pulls out a small vial of orange liquid. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Marquis. We all have one.’
‘Fireblod?’ I say incredulously. ‘The rebels gave you fireblod?’
Fireblod is the black-market medicine that saved Atlas’s life. It was banned by the Peace Agreement as it’s made from the blood of live dragons.
‘It’s stock from the First Class hospitals they raided,’ Serena says. ‘The rebels don’t support the making of fireblod, but we can’t let what has been made go to waste. It could save rebel lives.’
‘I wonder how the rebel dragons feel about that,’ I say.
Serena unstoppers the vials and drinks the liquid.
‘Serena’s right,’ Atlas says grimly. ‘We can’t afford to lose her now, and with the fireblod that wound will be closed by tomorrow.’
‘I’d rather be mauled by a dragon than ingest that stuff,’ Marquis says.
‘Well, if my arm doesn’t heal, the Bolgoriths will smell the blood and then you will be,’ Serena retorts.
‘We’d have the protection of a Bolgorith if it wasn’t for Viv’s big mouth,’ Gideon mutters.
‘One look at Chumana causes you to lose your senses, Gideon,’ Marquis says.
‘Shut up,’ I say. ‘Look.’
Something black is streaking through the air towards us. It’s the size of a large crow, except it has a long tail and is carrying something bulky in its claws.
