‘Over there,’ I gasp at Atlas, pulling him towards the gap before we lose sight of it.
Daria crashes into the tent. Metal shatters and chain links fall as her tail collides with Chumana, knocking her sideways with a metallic screech. For a second she is suspended by one wing, but then she drops to the ground with a boom that I feel beneath my feet. Atlas pulls me out on to the beach. A Bulgarian dragon lies across the sand, its belly slashed open, purple entrails spilling out. We duck behind the body as bullets spray. The sky is full of dragons, so many that the beach is cast into dark shadow. It’s impossible to tell rebel from Bolgorith.
‘Towards the cliff!’ Atlas cries.
Guardians charge at us as we stumble back across therockpools. I drop into a crouch as a Bulgarian dragon swoops down on to our path, swinging its head in our direction. ‘Surrender to Krasimir,’ it snarls at me, ‘and he may show mercy to your comrades.’
I recoil. Atlas steps out in front of me and suddenly, a huge, tawny body descends on us, its talons reaching for the Bolgorith’s face. It screams as a claw pierces its eye and its body is lifted from the ground, suspended for a few seconds before slamming back heavily on to the sand. It lets out a lethal screech and launches itself into the air in retaliation, hot blood droplets raining down. Another Bolgorith joins it in its attack and suddenly the beach opens up, a clear path stretching out in front of us, the pale cliff a beacon in the salty smog. We’re running, our feet dragging in the sand, smoke filling our throats as we reach the cliff path. I turn my head to Atlas as I grasp at the long grass to pull myself up the steep slope.
‘Chumana, did she—’
‘That’s Soresten!’ Atlas cries. ‘And his sister, Addax.’
The tawny dragon that attacked the Bulgarian has been joined by another, with the same sandy colouring and zigzag markings.
The Bletchley dragons are back.
The prison tent erupts from the ground like a cork from a bottle and Chumana bursts from its trappings, broken chains trailing from her wings. She soars upwards, higher than I can see, then streams back down like a shooting star, a slash of ruby against the grey sky. When she opens her mouth, twenty Guardians are engulfed in flames. Daria appears at her side,smaller and slimmer but the same triumphant shade of pink.
‘Why did she release Chumana?’ Atlas shouts.
I shake my head. I have no idea why this Bulgarian Bolgorith has defied orders and released a prisoner. My foot misses a dip in the ground and my ankle twists painfully, but Atlas drags me forward, away from the battle.
‘Listen!’ I shout at him.
We stop near the top of the hill, gasping for breath.
‘Do you hear that?’ I say.
Atlas’s eyes widen. It’s the sound of hooves. Horses appear on the path behind us, galloping up the hill at twice our speed with Guardians on their backs. We run, reaching the top, but Atlas’s hand is ripped from mine. I turn as the silver flash of a baton knocks him to the ground and trip, my nose slamming into the dirt. A horse screams, rearing as dragons circle above us. I roll over and stare up into the helmet of a Guardian, looking down at me from his horse with his baton raised high. Atlas crawls towards me, blood pouring down the back of his neck on to his jacket, and I grab his arm tightly.
We drag ourselves backwards on our elbows, fingers deep in the mud as the Guardian and his horse walk calmly beside us. He lifts his helmet.
Ralph.
‘No new world for you, little Swallow,’ he spits.
‘You think your partnership with Goranov is going to give you a future,’ I shout, ‘but to him you’re nothing but a live source of fireblod.’
Ralph’s face twists in anger.
‘You’re disposable to him, just like you are to your aunt.Wyvernmire didn’t want you in the glasshouse and Goranov won’t even let you fly with him That’s why you’ve sided with the Bulgarian dragons. Because you’re desperate to feel needed.’
The other Guardians are holding back, looking to Ralph for direction as he sneers down from his horse. ‘And what about you,recruit? You’ve sold yourself to the highest bidder, to whoever will let you play at being aDraconic translator.’ He laughs. ‘You jumped at the chance to use that loquisonus machine. You’re just as desperate as I am.’
Did I not feel a prick of excitement when I laid eyes on the machine after I thought they’d all been destroyed? Did I not sit smugly in Hollingsworth’s office, proud to be using my languages to help the rebel cause? Did I not waste time trying to translate an untranslatable language, because I couldn’t bear to fail?
‘You’re right. I’ve built my life around translation, thinking languages were the answer to all my problems. And now, without them, I don’t even know who I am. It’s like being on a boat you thought could never sink, except it’s already wrecked. I can’t save the rebels. I can’t save myself.’ I stare up into Ralph’s bloodshot eyes as smoke wafts around us and the air fills with more screeches. ‘But being Goranov’s pet won’t save you, either.’
Atlas pulls me closer to the cliff edge as Ralph jumps off his horse, the glint of his baton suddenly more menacing than any dragon in the sky. We crawl backwards through the grass and as one of my hands find Atlas’s, the other meets with thin air.
I look at him, my eyes shining, and he nods.
Ralph points the baton in my direction. A smile spreads across his face. As the other Guardians close in, he moves the baton to his other hand and raises it over Atlas’s head instead.
‘I’ll kill him this time,’ he whispers.
I roll sideways, Atlas’s jacket tight in my fist. His body rolls with mine, crushing me momentarily so that stones and tree roots dig into my back, and then suddenly they’re gone.
