Page 17 of Lightningborn

“Come on, boy. Don’t just stand there with your mouth hanging open. I said I’d give you a place to hide that dragon, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

Trust Bart.Remy clenched his jaw. Carefully, he eased up beside the old man and looked down.

There was a stairway cut into the side of the cliff. Uneven and treacherous-looking, it formed a narrow, snaking path down to a wooden walkway that jutted from the side of the rock wall, attached with flimsy wooden braces. Far below the walkway, the Maelstrom roiled and churned, spitting flashes of purple lightning that crawled along the top of the clouds. There were no handrails for either the stairs or for the wooden path along the side of the cliff.

“Follow me,” Bart instructed. “Stay as close to the rock face as you can. And, of course, try not to look down.”

Storm grumbled beneath his shirt, shifting to a more comfortable position in the blanket. Carefully, Remy made his way down the steps, then onto the wooden path. The planks creaked under his bare feet, and through the gaps, the Maelstrom boiled and churned directly below. Hugging the wall, he trailed Bart along the rickety walkway, heart lurching every time a board shifted or bent beneath him. He envied Storm, tucked into a blanket and not having to see any of it.

Finally, the walkway curled around the rock and ended at a house perched precariously on the side of the cliff. The wooden shack teetered on a narrow ledge, seemingly held in place by a handful of posts bracing it against the wall. The windows were boarded up, and a ragged curtain hung over the doorframe, much like the one in Remy’s house. The entire structure creaked and shivered in the wind, looking like it might snap and tumble into the Maelstrom at any moment.

“Home sweet home,” Bart sighed, pushing back the curtain that was his door. Glancing at Remy, who hugged the cliff wall a few paces back, he raised a bushy eyebrow. “You coming or not, boy?”

“Thisis where you live?” Remy asked, picking his way across the final boards. “How has this thing not blown away and fallen into the Maelstrom?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Bart replied, smiling as Remy ducked through the frame. Inside, a table with a single stool sat near a window, and a moldy green couch slumped against the opposite wall. A rickety ladder led up to a loft, where he could just see a bundle of old blankets that was probably where Bart slept.

“Luck,” Bart went on. “Pure, laughable luck. Honestly, I’m surprised this place has lasted so long. I was sure it would’ve snapped and tumbled into the Maelstrom by now.”

“And you still stay here?”

Bart shrugged. “I like the quiet,” he muttered. “No one comes snooping around my door. No one shows up to ask stupid questions. I don’t have to worry about thieves or nosy neighbors.” Glancing at the bulge beneath Remy’s shirt, he snorted. “You can probably put your dragon down now; it should be safe. Like I said, no one comes around here.”

As if hearing the words, Storm squirmed in Remy’s grip, wriggling free and dropping to the floor. The dragon yawned and stretched his wings, giving Remy a full view of the striking lightning patterns that marked them, then gazed around curiously.

“Oh,” Bart went on, snapping his fingers, “and there is one more little feature about this place that makes it attractive. Come with me, kid. Bring your dragon. You’ll have to carry him; he’s still too small to fly.”

The old man turned and began climbing the ladder into the loft. Remy went to pick up Storm, but the hatchling gave an irritated hiss and shrank back from his fingers. Remy sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry I had to stuff you in that blanket,” he told the dragon. “But we had to keep you hidden or the pirates would get you.” Storm still glared, irritable and unimpressed, and Remy made a gesture of exasperation. “Okay, if you don’t want me picking you up, how are you planning to get up the ladder, then?”

The dragon chirped. He strode forward, sank his claws into Remy’s trouser leg, and began climbing. Remy braced himself, gritting his teeth, as the hatchling scrambled up his body like a cat climbing a tree. When he reached Remy’s shoulders, the dragon curled himself around his neck and gave a smug trill. Remy rolled his eyes.

“Comfortable up there?”

The dragon’s garble sounded very self-satisfied. Remy sighed and started up the ladder.

The loft was small and cramped, and the pile of blankets in the corner reeked of Ferus’s cheapest ale. At one end of the platform, the ledge dropped into the room below, with no railings to stop you should you go rolling across the planks in your sleep. On the opposite side, nestled into the wall, was a simple wooden door. Remy could suddenly feel cold air coming through the cracks.

“Here you are, finally. And the dragon has made itself into a necktie—how ingenious.” Bart put his hand on the knob and glared back at Remy. “Now listen to me, lad,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “No one but me has ever been through this door. Do not tell anyone about this place, you hear? Not a soul. Promise me you will keep this place a secret, boy. Swear it!”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Remy said. “I swear.”

“Hmph,” Bart grumbled, sounding unconvinced. But he turned and pushed open the door. It gave a strident creak as it swung back, revealing a stone tunnel, a short passageway through the rock. Bart shot another glare back at Remy. “Remember, boy. What you see through here, not one word to anyone!”

He stepped through the door and vanished into the tunnel. With Storm clinging to his shoulders, tail curled loosely around his neck, Remy took a deep breath and followed.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

The college grounds were dark as Gem and Cloud soared silently toward the outer wall, approaching from the back instead of using the much more brightly lit front entrance. There were also guards at the front gate, while the back of the college only had a gatehouse with a single watchman inside, usually asleep. Weirdly enough, very few were brave or foolish enough to sneak into a school full of the most powerful mages in the kingdom.

Gem wondered if she was being brave, or just foolish.

Cloud made no sound as he glided easily over the high stone wall, alighting in the grass with barely a rustle. Gem slid from his back and peered around warily. This was a dangerous part of her plan. She had chosen to land here because it was the most isolated part of the college; behind the first-year dorms were the gardens and greenhouses, where the college grew all kinds of mystical plants for various spells and rituals. No one came here at night, but she still felt very exposed, standing there on the lawn with a shimmering white dragon beside her. And though Cloud was necessary to her plan, particularly the escaping part, a dragon following her around the college was certainly going to be noticed.

Fortunately, she had a plan for that, too. Gem patted his shoulder and motioned Cloud to follow. They slipped quietly across the lawn, passing elegant glass buildings that glowed with hazy light, until they reached one of the gardening sheds tucked into the wall. The college was careful to present itself as a surreal, magical place, with no ties to the mundane and ordinary. Normal gardening tools like rakes, shovels, and wheelbarrows were all stored out of sight, so as not to spoil the illusion.

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