Dragons vs. Drones (19 page)

Chapter
24

T
he horde of Sages collided with the drones, ten of them converging on one and bathing it in a shimmering flame that leapt out like leaves from an autumn maple. The fire completely enveloped the Tracker and was followed soon after by a flurry of teeth and claws tearing into the armor and ripping the drone apart. Marcus knew immediately there would be no salvaging that drone: torn pieces—still fizzling electric blue—dropped into the river and disappeared.

For a moment he thought the dragons might wipe the drones out, but that hope was dashed the instant the drones wheeled around into a new formation—still four strong and bristling with weapons. They opened fire and downed one of the dragons in seconds.

The other Sages cried out in agony as they watched their companion plummet into the river, its wings nothing but tattered golden shreds. It was as if the other dragons felt the bullets themselves, and the cries filled Marcus and Dree with pain, so much so that they had to look away as the dragon hit the water. When the dragons attacked the drones again, it was with an even more terrible rage.

“We need to help,” Dree said. “Baby Hybrid . . . turn around and fire!”

Baby Hybrid did as it was told, and the phalanx of drones scattered again, zooming in all directions through the enormous cavern. The dragons broke into units as well: Five of them chased each drone, spraying fire and roaring ceaselessly as they wheeled after the faster drones. Dree was absolutely astounded to see so many Sages still alive, and this close to the city. It seemed the Gully was their last great refuge, since the hunters could never pull a carcass from its deep walls. But even more surprising was the Sages' ferocity. Dree had heard that they were pacifists. Some legends even said they couldn't breathe fire.

Obviously they made an exception for the drones.

Dree kept Baby Hybrid racing after one Tracker in particular, firing constantly. Marcus barely held on to her waist as they dove and corkscrewed after the drone, shredding the cliff walls and covering the air with clouds of dust. They heard more terrible screams and saw two dead dragons drop into the river, sending up massive waves that lapped up over the shores. The air was full of hideous, anguished cries.

Marcus wanted to cover his ears, but he had to keep his arms wrapped around Dree.

“Dive!” Dree shouted, sending them angling toward the river. “Fire!”

The drone easily dodged the machine gun fire—Baby Hybrid was still too slow to respond to verbal commands. Meanwhile Sages were starting to fall everywhere, the drones moving too quickly for them to sink their claws and teeth into. Their fire was impressive, but it wasn't enough to down the armor-plated drones, and their guns were merciless. One dragon after another fell to its death.

Dree slammed her fist on the steel. “We're losing. Baby Hybrid, turn—”

“Wait,” Marcus cut in. “We need to try something else.”

“What do you mean?”

They both ducked as a drone whizzed overhead, dragons close behind.

“Do you tell Lourdvang how to fly?”

Dree turned and scowled. “Of course not.”

“Then stop telling her,” Marcus said. “Baby Hybrid . . . destroy the drones!”

Baby Hybrid immediately veered left, even before Dree saw the Tracker coming at them from above. The drone streaked past, and Baby Hybrid swept into a loop, causing both Dree and Marcus to scream as the distant canyon floor raced over their heads. They were still busy screaming when Baby Hybrid opened fire, hitting the drone's left wing as it tried to climb again. The bullets ripped into the metal,
tearing it clean off. The drone wobbled and then flew straight into the side of the cliff, exploding in a massive fireball.

The dragons roared their approval and continued pursuing the remaining three drones.

Dree looked at Marcus. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Baby Hybrid turned after another Tracker, still slow to change directions but capable of incredible acceleration. The drone climbed skyward, and Baby Hybrid pursued it, clearing the flock of chasing golden dragons and closing in fast.

“We should have been doing this all along—” Marcus started.

He didn't get a chance to finish. The drone suddenly veered right, trying to escape, and Baby Hybrid followed in the fastest way possible—a quick barrel roll. Marcus wasn't ready. The g-forces ripped his hands from Dree's waist and sent him flying off of Baby Hybrid's back, his arms flailing desperately as he dropped out of the sky. Dree screamed and tried to grab his arm, but she was too late.

It was strange sensation, falling backward as the cold wind buffeted him while dragons and drones raced across the sky shooting bullets and flames at one another. It was so surreal that Marcus almost forgot to be scared, though he knew he was about a mile up and falling fast. He wouldn't even know when he hit the ground. Maybe that was better.

He saw Dree turning Baby Hybrid overhead, but she was already so far away. A drone raced past his head in a flash. Suddenly, something strong caught his shirt, instantly yanking
him upward. He shouted and looked up to see beautiful golden scales glistening in the sun. One of the dragons had caught him.

“Hang on!” it rumbled, turning with its companions to chase the drones.

Marcus looked around and saw nothing to hold on to, so he just hugged himself.

Around them, the remaining three drones were still gunning down dragons. The Destroyer was particularly deadly: its machine guns were more powerful and its armor plating seemed almost impervious to the dragons' claws. At least ten of them had been killed already. Dree saw Marcus dangling from one of the dragon's legs and sent Baby Hybrid after one of the drones instead, relieved. For a second she had thought she'd lost him.

“Baby Hybrid,” she ordered. “Dive and then loop, firing as you do.”

Dree was playing a hunch now—the drones seemed to be paying a lot more attention to the hybrid after it had gunned down one of their own. She was counting on it.

Baby Hybrid launched into a dramatic dive, heading straight toward the river. Dree felt her legs slipping off the hybrid and held on tightly. The river grew ever larger.

“Now!” she screamed.

Baby Hybrid suddenly turned into a sharp loop, firing both guns. Her hunch paid off: They caught the Tracker on their tail head-on, and it exploded as the bullets pierced right through its blazing red eye. Baby Hybrid flew through the explosion, and Dree felt the flames stream past. If she hadn't been immune to them, she would have been dead.

The remaining two drones seemed to slow down for a moment, as if surveying the damage and their odds of victory. Marcus decided to use the advantage. As the dragon holding him flew over one of the drones, preparing to dive, Marcus looked up.

“Drop me!” he shouted.

“What?”

“Do it!”

The dragon snorted and let go, and Marcus dropped ten feet onto the back of the Destroyer, fumbling and grabbing onto the white steel plating. He pulled himself forward, looking for an access panel. The wind was screaming past him as the drone picked up speed again, firing on a group of dragons. One of them went down, crying out as it fell.

He had to hurry. Marcus spotted an access plate and popped it open, his eyes falling on an array of computer boards, wires, and switches.

He reached out to rip the wires when the drone veered up, almost pitching him off its back. It began to spin, and he felt his legs flying out as he just barely held on to the access panel, slipping ever so slightly. The world spun around him in a dizzying blur.

“Hold . . . still,” he managed, reaching for the wires.

The drone finally turned again to fire on a dragon, and that gave Marcus the chance he needed. He ripped the wires and circuit board clean out, shorting the drone instantly. Marcus realized the problem with his plan just as the drone started to fall.

“Not again,” he whispered.

The huge Destroyer dropped fast, speeding toward the canyon floor. Marcus let go instantly, floating off and trying to make himself big.

“Anyone?” he shouted, looking around desperately.

The dragons were forming together way above him, watching as the last drone suddenly took off out of the canyon, obviously retreating for the moment.

The ground was approaching fast.

“Are you ever not falling?” a familiar voice called, and he turned to see Dree racing down beside him, grinning and reaching out for his arm. He grabbed her hand, and she pulled him in as Baby Hybrid did a graceful curve upward, heading for the dragons.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Don't mention it,” she replied. “I owed you one anyway.”

“The drones retreated, I see.”

“Right after you took yours out. That was really dumb, by the way.”

Marcus laughed. “I agree.”

They slowed down in front of the group of dragons, and one of them gestured toward the canyon ledge. They all set down there, with many of the Sages inspecting one another's injuries. Almost all of them had holes in their wings or bloody wounds. But as Marcus and Dree watched, they began to heal each other with gentle, rippling copper flames that seemed to weld the scales and wings back together.

“Greetings,” a male dragon said. “So you've found us.”

Dree flushed. “And led the drones right to you.”

The dragon shook his head. “They would have found us eventually. They kill every other dragon, and we knew it wouldn't be long before they found our home. Two of our kind were already killed as they hunted for deer. We wanted our vengeance. For machines, there is no mercy. After all, they give none.”

Marcus looked up at the Sage, whose eyes were a tired opal and blue, his body smaller than Lourdvang's but still muscled. His scales had obviously been weathered by many years and looked as faded as Marcus's watch. But even as Marcus stared up at the dragon, he felt a sense of peace flood through him. Instantly his fears and anxiety ebbed.

“Is this all that's left of your kind?” Dree asked, looking over the group of dragons.

“I do not know,” he said sadly. “There may be Sages elsewhere. But of my clan, once a hundred and fifty strong, there are now these eighteen of us. In time I fear there shall be none, even with this new weapon you ride upon.”

“What's your name?” Dree asked.

The dragon looked at her. “Nolong. Why?”

Dree smiled. “Vero says hello.”

Nolong's blue eyes widened. “You spoke with Vero?”

“She was hoping you were still alive.”

Nolong looked to the east, frowning. “It has been many years since I last saw her.”

“We know,” Marcus said. “But she thinks of you anyway.”

“It is nice to know she has not forgotten. Alas, such
concerns are far from my mind. For the moment, I must figure out how to keep my clan alive.”

“There's only one chance,” Dree said. “We're going after the Egg right now, but Erdath is also attempting to rally all the dragon clans together.”

Nolong sighed. “A difficult task. Maybe impossible.”

“It's also our only chance to defeat the drones,” Marcus said. “You can be sure they'll have reinforcements.”

Nolong seemed to consider this. “If we have one skill, it's speaking to other brethren. I will travel to all the clans I know and try to convince them to help. Perhaps I can rally them together. We have hid in this gully for long enough, letting our brothers and sisters die at the hands of dragon hunters and now these machines. It is time to fight back.”

He looked at them both.

“There is something in the two of you,” he said thoughtfully. “A power that I have not seen in many years. I do not know what it is, but do not be afraid to let it grow. I suspect you two will have a large part to play in this war, and it may not be the one you think.”

He turned and left them, returning to his clan. Marcus tried to make sense of Nolong's words.

He turned to Dree, who looked equally puzzled.

“What now?” Marcus asked.

“We go break into the most heavily fortified place in Dracone and steal a priceless artifact.”

Marcus sighed. “Perfect.”

Chapter
25

B
aby Hybrid descended onto the side of their chosen mountain, settling in an alcove covered with scraggly trees and shrubs. It overlooked the city below, which was lit with thousands of torches like lightning bugs in the plains.
Dracone was quite beautiful from up there—bright and welcoming. But Dree knew it was also crawling with soldiers, and it was going to be very difficult to get into the palace, never mind to get out again.

Marcus's mind was elsewhere. He was finally returning to the city, and he was increasingly convinced that he would find his father somewhere within it. He didn't know what his father's part in all this was, but he knew the clues to his disappearance were everywhere. All Marcus could think about was seeing his father again. Of bringing him home.

Did Marcus even want to go home, though? He stole a glance at Dree, lit only by the faint moonlight shimmering off the mountain. He thought about her, and about what it felt like to ride on the back of a dragon. Did he really want to go back to Arlington?

One thing at a time
, he told himself. First he had to try not to get arrested . . . or worse. He knew the soldiers wouldn't be kind to them following the prison break.

“Baby Hybrid,” he said. “Fly away if anyone but us approaches and go back to Lourdvang at the den. But if I call, come straight to us. Try not to kill anyone.”

Dree snorted. “What do you want her to do? Bring them flowers?”

“If it helps,” Marcus said, patting the hybrid's wing. He was getting fond of her, lifeless though she was. Her eyes, locked on the city, blazed a fiery orange.

“Do you guys want a moment?” Dree asked.

“Shut up.”

They started down the slope, being careful to avoid protruding rocks and crevices and any number of other hazards on the way. Marcus still stumbled on three separate occasions, twice relying on Dree to catch him and once face-planting on some shrubs. Scowling, he was still wiping the stinging thistles off of his face as they reached the bottom.

“We probably could have parked a little closer,” he muttered.

“And risk being spotted?” Dree asked. “You're just not very graceful.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled. “Any time.”

Dree led them into the untouched city, cutting through the ruined edges. The destruction was almost in a perfect ring, and as they passed into the downtown area, it looked like they were walking into the city exactly as it had been before the attacks. People were still out and about, lit by torchlight, and even the taverns were full. Dree saw a group of wealthy Draconians laughing and talking in front of a shop. Did these people not see what was happening around them? Didn't they care?

Dree felt her skin prickling and quickly looked away. An incident would not help them right now. But as they hurried toward the palace, her suspicions of the Prime Minister only grew. It looked like there wasn't a single bullet hole in the streets near the palace. The buildings were pristine. The merchant stands were still set up on the side of the road.
Perhaps things had been chaotic, but they were already settling down. The attacks had stopped, and the city would slowly grow, sweeping the ruins aside like dirt. She thought of her family's home—nothing but wood and ash.

Could Francis really have had a part in this?

“There it is,” Marcus whispered, as the palace came into view.

Torches lined its huge twenty-foot walls, flickering in the night. Soldiers stood at the barred entrance and on patrol around the perimeter, armed with swords and spears and bows. They could see at least thirty soldiers even from there—an impassable force.

“Where are these sewers?” Marcus asked nervously.

“They flow out toward the east end,” she said. “There's a man-made trench there that goes out to a river in the mountains. Not pleasant, trust me.”

“I can't wait.”

They hurried through the city, trying to stay out of view of the soldiers. The night air smelled of warm fires on the hearth, stewed pork, and, slightly fainter, something much worse. Something bad. It grew stronger as they headed east, circling the palace. The shops became dingier again, and Marcus saw many refugees huddled together in the streets, gathered around small fires and cooking what looked disturbingly like rats.

“I guess this is where they sent the villagers,” Dree said, her voice thick with contempt.

Soon the stench became stronger: sewage. Marcus felt
his stomach turn at the prospect of climbing through anything making that kind of smell, but thankfully, Dree had a different plan in mind.

“That's our door,” she said, pointing at another trench flowing
into
the palace.

That trench was filled with river water, obviously being diverted out of the mountains. It was only about ten feet away from the one leaving the palace—the source of the stench.

“Whew,” Marcus said.

“Yeah,” Dree said, grimacing. “Let's go.”

They followed the trench to the castle wall, both of them looking for soldiers, though it seemed they didn't bother guarding the water and sewage systems, relying instead on the iron gates. Marcus and Dree huddled against the stone wall for a moment and then climbed down into the trench, the freezing water flowing right up to their waists. Marcus tried not to gasp. They both shivered as they moved with the strong current toward the gate. Dree kept her pack over the water, trembling violently.

“It's . . . so . . . cold,” Marcus said.

“It's better than sewage,” Dree retorted, removing her torch from the pack.

Marcus paused. “Agreed.”

They stopped at the gate, where Dree put her torch to the iron, softening each joint. Marcus anxiously kept a watch behind them, knowing they were trapped if anyone spotted them. They would never make it out of the tunnel in time.

“Hurry,” he said tersely.

“Working on it,” she replied.

The torch was incredibly bright as it softened the iron joints, and finally, when they had melted enough, Dree took out her black hammer and pushed on them, welding at the same time. The softened iron folded inward. She did this to each joint, until a small opening was cut in the gate.

“Let's go,” she said, heading through.

They moved quickly with the strong current, letting it carry them in. It was extremely dark in the tunnel, and Marcus was just starting to feel a little claustrophobic when they finally saw flickering torchlight in front of them. They stayed close to the tunnel walls as they walked, keeping an eye out for movement. There was a large, old-fashioned wheel ahead, moving the water into aqueducts and sending it streaming through the castle. The wheel was sloshing the cold water around, creating a lot of noise, and they snuck up behind it onto a slimy concrete ledge built to service the wheel. There was a torch slung on the wall there, illuminating the bricks and the many cracks and crevices that ran through the tunnel. Marcus saw small eyes reflecting the light in the darkness. The whole area was crawling with rats.

“Stairs?” he suggested.

“Yes,” Dree said.

It didn't take long. They found a set of slick concrete steps that led up out of the tunnel, the entire area smelling of mildew and mold. Marcus followed Dree up to a door at the top of the staircase, warm light spilling beneath it. Dree stopped there, listening.

Nothing.

She nodded at Marcus and eased the door open, cringing as the rusted hinges squeaked. They were in a hallway—clearly in a less-used area of the palace. The faded green walls were mostly bare aside from a few ancient paintings, and the floor was covered with a hideous beige carpet stained almost brown. Dree was amazed that any part of the palace would be allowed to fall into such disrepair, considering Francis had plenty of staff. They started down the hallway, looking from door to door.

“Where would the Egg even be?” Marcus asked, his eyes on a dusty portrait of an old man who seemed to be watching them. Marcus shuddered and looked away.

“How am I supposed to know?” she said. “I've never been here either.”

“So we're going to look through the entire palace? What if the Egg's in the Prime Minister's bedroom or something?”

“Then we're in trouble,” Dree said. “So let's hope it's not.”

The hallway was lined with doors, but they all led to empty pantries and rundown storerooms and dusty wine cellars, tucked away in the damp and cold. The whole floor seemed abandoned. Finally they came to a broad staircase that led up to a pair of large, ornate wooden doors. Dree suspected the doors led to the main areas of the palace, which were sure to be filled with servants and soldiers. This was about to get tricky.

“Stay close,” Dree whispered. “We need to be quiet.”

Dree started up the staircase, crouching low. She turned back and saw Marcus still standing at the bottom of the
steps, his eyes locked on something farther down the hall.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Light,” he replied, heading down the hallway.

Dree scowled and started after him. “What are you . . . a moth?”

Marcus shook his head, pointing. “Not torchlight. Blue light.”

Dree followed his gaze and saw a door at the other end of the hall—a rotting wooden door like all the rest. But beneath it, a strip of eerie blue light was shining through the small crack. She frowned. She had never seen light like that, apart from Marcus's laptop. It wasn't a light that belonged in Dracone.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don't know,” he said. “But I don't think it's another storage room.”

They crept down the hall and stopped in front of the large padlocked door. Marcus glanced at Dree.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, pulling the pick out of her bag.

Within a minute, she had popped the lock off the door and then stood back.

“After you,” Dree said.

Marcus pulled the door open, letting the blue light spill out into the hallway. He blinked against the sudden glare and saw another set of rough concrete stairs leading downward.

With one last glance in Dree's direction, Marcus started down the steps. He descended reluctantly, afraid of what he would find. . . . And when he finally reached the bottom of the concrete steps, he felt his knees buckle.

The ancient stone walls shimmered with an electric blue, as if they were in the midst of a lightning storm. The air was warm and dry, thrumming with the heat of hundreds of machines. It was like a living spiderweb of computer screens, power lines, and massive generators, all of them intertwined in an intricate pattern.

And there, sitting in the midst of the spiderweb, was George Brimley.