“What did he say?” Anders asked.
“He says to hurry,” Theo whispered. “He thinks the Fyrstulf has other wolves looking for augmenters too, and no matter how much Hayn stalls, if one of the others finds one, the Snowstone could end up much more powerful.”
That dampened Anders’s spirits, and, as if to prove Hayn’s point, another wave of cold came through the classroom that day after lunch.
Everyone was weakened except for Anders and Lisabet, and Bryn was taken away to the infirmary by a worried Ferdie.
Anders could see from their expressions that they wanted to snap at one another or stop working and complain about the cold. But everyone behaved, because they wanted tomorrow’s class trip more than they wanted to vent their feelings.
After class Theo disappeared to the archives again, taking Mikkel, the Finskólar historian, with him, to look up as much as he could about Flic, her inventions, and her history, in case any of it was useful in locating the hiding place Drifa had chosen once they arrived at the waterfall. Lisabet would have been useful too, but as a wolf she was banned from the archives, so she did her best with a couple of books in their bedroom.
And Anders himself carried around the knowledge like a light in the dark: tomorrow they’d have the rest of the scepter.
Chapter Eleven
THE NEXT MORNING THEY GATHERED RIGHTafter breakfast in the Great Hall, where Leif was waiting with piles of supplies—food and bedding packed into big bags that were easy for a dragon to lift.
Isabina, the Finskól’s resident mechanical genius, was standing and talking to the Drekleid. Her slender frame was nearly hidden beneath the long coils of rope she was carrying, slung crosswise over her body, her tangle of curly brown hair sticking out the top, and her legs out the bottom. It wasn’t until Anders got closer that he saw it wasn’t rope, but long strips of leather, some parts padded with what looked like fleece.
“Oh, there you are,” Isabina said, craning her head to see over the top of the leather rope. She had her usual smudge of grease on her nose. “Ellukka mentioned that you and Lisabet thought harnesses might be a good idea, so you have something to hold on to when you and Lisabet are riding Ellukka and Rayna.”
Anders blinked. The first time Lisabet had raised that particular idea, Ellukka had nearly gone through the roof. And now she’d been asking Isabina about it? “Is... is that what that is?” he asked, holding his hands out in an offer to relieve Isabina of some of her burden.
“Yes, I thought we might as well trial them today,” she said. “It’s not really my field, because there aren’t any mechanics involved, but it’s still an interesting design challenge. Oh, good morning, Ellukka! I’ve got the harnesses ready.”
Lisabet was just arriving with Ellukka, and she joined Anders in shooting the blond dragon a surprised look.
“No need to make a big deal out of it,” Ellukka muttered, crossing over to an empty space where she could transform. “It would be inconvenient if you fell off, is all.” She dropped to a crouch, changing before either of the wolves had a chance to reply. Or worse, Anders suspected, to thank her for being so considerate.
He and Lisabet helped Isabina wrap the first harness around Ellukka—they both knew they’d better learn how to do it, in case they wanted to make any trips without adult permission—and then the second around Rayna. It was a simple but clever design, crisscrossing under the dragons’ forearms and across their chests.
Anders and Lisabet had leather belts to wear, which had straps that clipped into the harnesses, meaning they couldn’t fall off even if they let go. They also had proper handholds now, which Anders much preferred to grabbing hold of Rayna’s neck ridges and hoping he didn’t hurt her.
“There,” said Isabina, tightening a buckle for Ellukka. “Nod once if it feels comfortable, and twice if it doesn’t.”
Ellukka nodded once and crouched a little, inviting Lisabet to use her front leg as a stepladder to climb up onto her back, and Isabina turned her attention to Rayna.
Rayna and Ellukka launched once they had their passengers aboard, and they circled in the crisp air outside Drekhelm, waiting as one by one the rest of the class launched themselves out the huge, dragon-size double doors. Ferdie was gliding along near Bryn, who had been allowed to come despite her trip to the infirmary before, but as the Finskólar medic, it was clear he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Nearer, Anders could see that Ellukka and Lisabet were testing out the straps, taking some sharp turns, working together to see just how secure they were.
A couple of weeks ago, Ellukka had been ready to spit-roast him and Lisabet on the side of the mountain below them. Now, they were... there was only one word for it. They were friends. They weren’t just working together—they liked and trusted one another. Ellukka had wanted to make sure Lisabet could fly with her safely.
It was the first time Anders had really thought about it, and though it didn’t stop him aching for his friends at Ulfar Academy, he knew now that he had added Ellukka and Mikkel and Theo to his list of friends. Bryn and Isabina and Ferdie as well. He wasn’t just doing all this to try and stop a battle. He was doing it to keep the people he cared about safe.
Eventually everyone was aloft, some with the big bags of supplies dangling from one foot, and they formed up behind Leif to wheel away toward the northwest. It was to be a long flight to Flic Waterfall, made a little longer by the need to detour and avoid any populated areas.
To their right rose the highest mountain he’d ever seen—the top of it was completely shrouded in mist. This must be Cloudhaven, the legendary, forbidden home of the first dragonsmiths.
Eventually they left its hidden peak behind, and beyond it Anders caught a glimpse of the red roofs of the village of High Rikkel, nestled on a plateau almost as high as some of the mountain peaks. Tiny spires of smoke rose from faraway chimneys, and he wondered what the people living there were doing at the start of their day, whether they were thinking about the wolves or the dragons, or the battle that might come. Whether anyone from the village would make the long trek to Holbard for the Trial of the Staff this month, to test their wolf blood. Whether any of them carefully hid their dragon blood or had secret dragon family members. They seemed so isolated out here, but though he wasn’t even sure if they’d know if a battle took place in Drekhelm or in Holbard, the fight between the dragons and the wolves touched everyone in Vallen.
They flew over golden-green valleys, long rivers snaking through them with twists and turns, the water dashing itself on rocks in some places, so deep and fast in others that it looked still from the air.
And eventually, the wild Westlands Mountains rose up ahead of them. The Westlands were famous for being the fiercest, the most remote, and the most dangerous mountains in Vallen. Storms whipped through them all winter long, and sometimes during the summer as well. On the far side of them lay the inhospitable northwest coast of Vallen, where few ships dared pass.
Today, though, the sky above was a clear blue, and the snow on the mountains looked soft and gentle, as if it would be a comfortable place to rest. Leif tilted one wing and began to angle in on a valley at the edge of the mountains, and Anders looked over Rayna’s shoulder to try and make out where they were heading.
At first, the waterfall was so huge that he didn’t realize that’s what it was. When he understood what he was seeing, he gasped. The wide river surfaced from the mouth of an underground cave and ran along the top of a long plateau like a ribbon laid out in a gently winding path. Then it abruptly reached the edge of the mountain and tumbled hundreds of yards, landing on a series of ledges and pouring off each one in turn, so that the white, frothing mass looked like a layer cake, each section a little larger and more spread out than the one before.
At its base, it spread down to a huge pool, almost the size of the harbor in Holbard—a lake, really. Three great rivers branched away from it, as well as dozens of small silvery streams. It was incredibly beautiful but intimidatingly large, considering the size of the scepter they were hunting for.
