I bite my lip. If Atlas managed to escape Freddie’s group, then why didn’t he wait for us nearby? I think back to our argument and feel a sinking sense of dread. What if he’s right and the wyvern echolocationisthe key to winning the war?
We walk for hours, until the sun is high in the sky and we can see the sea. Below us is Canna House and then the bay with the footpath that leads to Wyvernmire’s camp. A huge tent has been erected on the beach, so tall that the top of it is higher than the cliffs.
‘Get down,’ Marquis says, pulling me into the grass as a dragon flies overhead.
We crouch in the purple heather as more of them soar over the beach and back again. Across the fields, at the same height we’re currently at, is the top of Compass Hill. I stare out to sea. Big clouds of black smoke are rising off Rùm.
No.
Horror pricks my skin.
The smoke is further back, coming not from Rùm but from somewhere else.
‘Eigg,’ I say. ‘The Bolgoriths have attacked Eigg.’
I TAKE SMALL, PANICKED BREATHS AS I think of Ursa, of Dr Seymour and her baby, of Sophie and Karim. We only spent a few days down in the tunnels, yet somehow, the fighting has already started.
And the people we love most are in the middle of it.
‘We need a boat, or a dragon,’ I say.
Hot panic courses through my body. When was the attack? Who has been killed? I imagine the shadow of a Bulgarian dragon cast over a fleeing Ursa and swallow a sob. Every second standing here is a second wasted.
‘Look,’ Serena says.
A group of dragons is flying across the water towards Canna. They attempt to avoid Wyvernmire’s camp by keeping close to Sanday, but they’ve already been spotted. Bulgarian dragons rise up to meet them.
‘I recognise that one,’ Marquis says. ‘It’s Soresten.’
‘Soresten? From Bletchley?’ I reply.
He nods. We watch as the Bulgarian Bolgoriths advance towards the incoming dragons. Before they even reach them, a burst of flame comes from Soresten. There’s a sound like metal tearing as the dragons clash in the air.
‘Right,’ Serena breathes. ‘It seems the next battle is now.’
‘Let’s go,’ Marquis says. ‘If Chumana is with those rebels then she can fly us to Eigg. We’ll do what we can to help the Coalition and find out what Hollingsworth’s back-up plan is.’
I nod, refusing to consider the possibility that there is no back-up plan. All that matters to me now is seeing Ursa unharmed. We run for Compass Hill, tearing across the fields and past the low stone wall that leads to Jasper’s empty camp. We reach the top drenched in sweat and crawl through the grass on our stomachs. Across the water, Soresten is still fighting. We peer over the cliff’s edge at Wyvernmire’s camp. The tide is out, making it even bigger. Hundreds of dragons stand on the black sand, white Guardians of Peace milling between them. They’re setting up what look like small cannons along the shore, pointing the heavy barrels skywards.
Speerspitzes.
The guns are slimmer than I imagined but the weight of them sinks deep gouges into the sand. Hostile screams carry in from the waves as the survivors of Soresten’s group begin to retreat and the Bulgarian dragons circle back, not even bothering to follow them.
‘Look at Wyvernmire’s tent,’ Gideon says quietly.
My eyes skim over the Guardian helmets and scaly dragon bodies, just in time to see a figure slip into the back of the tent.
Atlas.
I feel the pit of my stomach drop.
‘What’s he doing?’
‘God knows,’ Serena says, rolling her eyes.
Marquis snorts.
The minutes pass torturously slowly as we wait for Atlas to emerge from the tent. I stare at the fabric billowing in the breeze, at the dragons on the other side, and pray that he’s alone in there. Maybe Wyvernmire has been imprisoned somewhere else. Maybe she’s dead.
