Page 9 of Lightningborn

Remy chuckled. “I wouldn’t pick that fight,” he told the rat, tossing him a bread crumb he’d found in his pocket. “He’s only going to get bigger.”

Brutus paused, seeming to weigh the free bread against the meat he would have to fight for, then snatched up the crumb and vanished back into his hole. Remy leaned on the wall, frowning slightly as Storm finished the last of the pigeon. How fastdiddragons grow? Storm was little and easy to hide now, but according to Bart, adult dragons were as big as horses and twice as long. The hatchling wouldn’t be able to fit in this hovel if he grew that large.

Also, how was Remy going to feed it? Some days it was hard enough finding food for himself, much less a hungry baby dragon. Was it okay to give it cooked meat, or did it need something…fresher? Was the rodent and feline population of Beggar’s Row going to be in danger once Storm grew big enough to hunt?

Were normal people going to be in danger if there was a dragon living right next door?

Remy winced. Despite all the stories he had heard over the years, mostly from Bart, he really didn’t know that much about dragons. Or at least, not enough to raise and care for one as a baby. If Remy wanted answers to the million or so questions running through his head, he was going to have to talk to someone who knew dragons better than he did.

Storm finished the last of the pigeon kabob. He gave a tiny yawn that showed a flash of needle teeth, then crawled across the floor into Remy’s lap. Curling up like a cat, he tucked his nose under his wing, closed his eyes, and started to snore. Remy waited a few minutes, until Storm’s tail began to twitch in his dreams, then slid his arms under the dragon, walked across the room, and placed him gently in the hammock. For a moment, he held his breath as he pulled away, waiting to see if Storm would wake. But the hatchling seemed dead to the world, warm and with a belly full of food. He didn’t even stop snoring.

Remy tiptoed across the floor, avoiding the squeaky planks, and paused in the doorway. A dragon,hisdragon, slept peacefully in his hammock. If Remy could somehow keep him safe, and hidden, they could both someday leave this place and not look back.

But first, he had to know what the heck he was doing.

He ducked out the door and started to sprint.

CHAPTER

FOUR

“The island crystals are failing.”

Princess Gemillia Sunwind Gallecia heard the gasp that went around the council chamber, as every noble, councillor, chancellor, and politician reacted the way anyone would when hearing such news: with horror, disbelief, and genuine fear. She herself felt an icy shiver run up her spine and was only able to keep a serene expression on her face because Aetrius had told her the terrible news in the carriage. Even then, she couldn’t break down. A princess had to remain calm and composed, even in the face of utter disaster.

Even when hearing that the literal end of the world could be nigh.

In the center of the chamber, Archmage Aetrius stared around, eyeing the two dozen people in the seats surrounding him. Gem was seated next to the largest chair in the room, the throne upon which her father, King Gallus Gallecia XIV, sat with his fingers laced beneath his chin. His black hair and piercing iron-gray eyes made him seem intimidating to most, but though he rarely smiled, Gem had never seen him lose his temper. The king of Gallecia remained in complete, icy control of himself at all times.

“Archmage,” King Gallus said into the stunned silence, “please explain what that means in detail for the rest of the council. I’m afraid that most of us are not as versed in the storm crystals as you.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The archmage gave a small bow before turning to the rest of the chamber. For a moment, he looked annoyed, as if he were speaking to a crowd of unruly toddlers. “The islands,” he stated in a clear yet rusty voice, “are sinking. By an approximated three to five inches a year. That may not sound like much, yet even if there is no accelerated decay, the lowest islands could drop dangerously close to the Maelstrom in as little as ten years. But the real danger is that the crystals that keep this island afloat are giving out.”

He raised a hand, the shard of a bright purple-blue crystal held between two sticklike fingers. A tiny fragment of a much larger whole. Gemillia hadn’t seen the great storm crystals at the heart of the island, but she had been told they were the size of airships. Light flickered and glowed within the shard, sputtering like a candle flame. “Every island,” the mage began, moving the fragment he held slowly through the air, “from the capital to those in the farthest reaches of the Fringe, is kept aloft by storm crystals. These crystals are ancient, enormous, and have worked on their own for centuries.

“But now the crystals are going dark,” Aetrius went on, holding the shard even higher. “The magic stored within is fading. And if they continue to fail, we won’t have to worry about a slow drift into the Maelstrom. Once the crystals are gone…” He opened his fingers, and the shard immediately fell to the marble floor, shattering at his feet.

The effect was devastating and instantaneous. Council members were on their feet, shouting, protesting, asking a dozen questions at once. Gem sat in her chair, gazing at the glittering shards on the floor, feeling a cold fist slowly squeezing her insides.

“Enough.”

Her father rose, and as usual, his imposing presence was enough to quiet even the most disorderly room. The shouting quieted, questions fading away, as the king gazed around the chamber, his steely eyes demanding silence without a word being said. “Obviously, we will find an answer,” King Gallus told the room. “This is, of course, the highest priority now. We will not let this kingdom sink into the Maelstrom. Archmage Aetrius,” he continued, turning to the storm mage in the center, “what can we do to stop, or perhaps slow, the degrading of the crystals?”

“The College of Mages has been looking into it,” Aetrius replied. “We haven’t been able to discern much, but what we know is this. The magic stored in the crystals is either leaking or simply failing as a result of age and time. We have long believed that the crystals are charged and recharged by the Maelstrom itself, but over the course of two thousand years, the crystals are simply getting old.”

“Replace the crystals, then,” someone called. A small man with curly blond hair and a soft face, he was the youngest person in the room save for Gem herself. The archmage turned and gave the council member a scathing look.

“Replace them?” Aetrius’s voice was flat. “Do you know how large the crystals are that keep this island afloat, Councillor Wick?” he asked the young council member. “Do you know how many storm crystals lie at the heart of not only the capital island, but all the islands in the kingdom? Where would we find more crystals? Where would we take them from? The other islands? Sotheymight fall into the Maelstrom sooner?”

“There must be an excess of crystals somewhere—”

“There is not,” King Gallus said, his voice hard. “And even if there were, I am not willing to risk the lives of everyone on any one island by taking their storm crystals. There is no way to get more; we must make do with what we have.”

“There is, however, a temporary solution,” Aetrius went on, gazing around the room. “I assume everyone here knows how sky ships work?”

There was an awkward pause, and Gem bit her lip to keep a snort contained. That would not be fitting for a princess. But she guessed no one on the council knew anything about sky ships except how to ride in one.

“Sky ships are powered by storm energy, much like the island crystals,” Aetrius continued. “They also use storm crystals, albeit much smaller, weaker ones, to keep the airships afloat. However, to fly the vessel through the air requires a storm mage to power the crystal. This is why nearly all sky ships have at least one storm mage as part of the crew; without a mage, the ship must rely on the wind currents to get where they are going.”

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