Rise of the Dragon Moon Page 16

  Wix and Petal’s progress pulling the sled was slow, even with the ominous groans from the ice spurring them on. Toli’s fingers were useless, and though Petal gave everything she had at Wix’s side, she didn’t have the advantage of long hours of strength training with Spar.

  Wix bent toward the ice, tugging the sled over its rough surface with no runners to ease it along. Sometimes the heavy sled dragged behind them like a dead thing; sometimes it hit a bump and careened to the side, dragging them with it. It seemed to take half a lifetime to get it to the edge of the trees.

  It was Wix’s strength and sheer determination that, at last, helped them pull the sled safely off the deep ice and onto frozen ground. As soon as Petal dropped the rope, she was in front of Toli.

  “Come on.” Petal grabbed her, rubbing up and down her arms. “Let’s get you in dry clothes.” Petal helped her get undressed, the wet fur and leatherleaf peeling away from her skin like a crust. Behind their backs, Wix turned away and did the same.

  “We n-need a fire,” he said. “But there’s nothing to burn.”

  We’re going to die here, Toli thought. She could no longer feel her feet. She could feel the weight of Ruby across her shoulders, but there was no warmth to her. She reached up and pulled the dragon down into her shirt, scale to skin. She could just barely feel her heart beating.

  Wix stumbled over. “There’s got to be something we can burn. I have the hatchet. Maybe I can climb up into the stonetrees and cut a few small branches.”

  Petal gave him a sympathetic look. “You know that won’t work. It takes more than a hatchet to cut stonetree, and it would take hours to set one burning. We don’t have time.”

  Wix had pushed the sled over on its side to block the wind, so at least they had some shelter, but they were still too cold. They needed a fire. Toli stared at the sled. Her great-great-grandmother’s sled. She admired the carving of scales along the sides and what was left of the arching dragon tail at the back—splintered from the bear-cat attack. She turned to Wix. “You have your hatchet?”

  He cocked his head at her and nodded. “But Petal’s right, it’s not strong enough to cut through stonetree. Toli, you—”

  She shook her head. “The sled,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to the ice. “Burn the sled.”

  She felt rather than heard Petal’s dismay. “But that’s—”

  “I know. We don’t … we don’t have a choice. If we don’t get warm, we die. If we die, Ruby dies, and if Ruby dies…” Her voice failed her. But Petal understood.

  “If Ruby dies, the dragons won’t believe us, will they? They’d kill Mother and the rest of the Queendom too.”

  Wix lifted his hatchet, and to his credit, there was only the slightest pause before he brought it down on the splintered sled’s dragon tail. After a minute, it cracked away from the rest.

  Toli pulled out the dry furs and blankets, clearing the ground as best she could with her feet. By the time she’d made them a place to settle, Wix had a sizable pile of boards and kindling. Toli slid Ruby down into her arms. The dragon’s scales were the color of ash. Toli wrapped her in furs and held her close, cradling her against her heart.

  Petal set out the stonetree base and platform as Wix hurried to get the bowl of embers to light the fire.

  “NO!” he cried, startling Petal.

  Toli tried to stand up to see what was wrong, but she couldn’t get up. Her feet were too cold, and he was nothing but a dark shadow standing among the shambles of the sled.

  “What’s wr-wrong?” Petal called, her teeth chattering.

  “The embers are out. They were strong! I thought I’d saved them … but they must have gotten wet after all.” His shoulders shook. “We don’t have a way to start a fire.” Wix dropped his face into his palms and wept. “I’m so sorry.”

  Toli dragged herself to her feet, and she and Petal moved to either side of him. They huddled together, taking comfort in one another. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had. There was no hiding the truth, and so they didn’t try. They were alone, with no hope of rescue or revival. Krala had been right. They weren’t going to survive.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Father Moon’s green light crept through the trees like ill intent, and all they could do was watch it come. Even the aurora lights, dancing through the starlit sky, were nothing but distant unkept promises. They wouldn’t survive without a fire. Toli settled Ruby in her lap. The dragon seemed to be shifting in and out of consciousness, but somehow managed to crack open one eye. “I’m here,” Toli whispered as she stroked Ruby’s head.

  The dragon wouldn’t last much longer. Toli took a shuddering breath. She had failed them all—Father, Mother, Spar, Petal, and Wix—even Ruby. To think her mother had wanted to make her queen. It was laughable. She would have done better with Petal, or even Wix for that matter. Anyone but her.

  Next to Toli, Petal’s whole body shook. She wrapped her arms around her legs, dropping her chin down to rest on her knees.

  Toli stared up at the stars, bright in Nya’s setting light. They should never have come. A sudden movement caught her attention and she looked down to see Ruby propelling herself from the furs. She was unsteady and trembling.

  “Ruby!”

  The dragon coughed a burst of fire at the pile of kindling and it flared into blinding flame. Toli gasped. The heat was like a slap.

  She scooped Ruby up and pulled her close. The dragon had gone an even darker gray. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Ruby, thank you.” Toli nestled her back in the furs near the fire. The dragon cracked open her golden eyes and gave a shiver.

  Wix exhaled. “Nya’s light, I’m glad you have her, Toli.” He met her eyes. “I’m so sorry about your sled. I’ll make you a new one myself. I swear it. I know it won’t be the same—can’t be the same.”

  “It’s okay.” She tried to smile, but her face was painful, full of pins and needles as it began to thaw, and she couldn’t. “At least it burns. I didn’t know if it could.”

  He nodded and looked down.

  The trees’ tall silhouettes pleaded with the stars to come down. Toli’s stomach growled.

  The crackling of the fire echoed through the dense wood behind them as they stared out at the ice they had crossed. Toli sighed as the fire heated her toes and warmed her face. She lifted Ruby, still swathed in furs, and cradled her, hoping the heat of her body would do the dragon good. Some of Ruby’s feathers had fallen from the edges of her wings.

  Wix dug through the bag of supplies and came up with salted meat, dried mushrooms, and a handful of lichens. The lichens went into a pot with snow and they drank the broth when it was heated through. The taste was bitter, but Toli could feel the strength in it. She tried to give Ruby some, and a little meat too, but the dragon wouldn’t even open her eyes anymore.

  The foxes reappeared one by one to gather near the fire. Petal dozed on Toli’s shoulder. “What do you think Father would be doing right now?” she asked. “If he were alive, I mean.”

  Toli’s heart thunked against her aching ribs. Father.

  She deserves to know, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. After everything you’ve put them through, they both deserve to know what you did.

  She didn’t want to tell her little sister—didn’t want to see Wix’s admiration falter. But her conscience pinched like too-small shoes. Between the ice beetles, and the bear-cats, and the ice, they almost died three times. They’re risking their lives too. They should know about all your mistakes—how your choices led to Father’s death. “Tell them,” her heart insisted each time it knocked against her ribs. “Tell them what you did.”

  She took a deep breath. “Petal?”

  “Mm.”

  “It was my fault.” Toli hurried on before she could change her mind. “Father getting killed—it was my fault.”

  Wix stilled as Petal cocked her head at Toli. “That doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows the dragons killed him. How could it be your fault?”

>   Toli let the story roll away from her like meltwater. She told them how she’d disobeyed, how she’d gone after their father. She told about the dragons coming down from the skies, swooping low across the ice. How she had run toward the battle with a sword in her hand.

  She had to stop and find her breath when she got to the part about her father turning, distracted. Next to her, Petal’s face had gone white as the ice, her dark hair like shadows gathering around her.

  “I … I was so stupid,” Toli cried. “I thought I could protect him, but I only made things worse. One of the dragons saw me…”

  Wix leaned forward, his eyes fierce. Petal stiffened and seemed to grow even paler.

  “It came for me … smacked me back across the ice with its tail. I … I hit the Southern Wall and”—she took a shuddering breath—“and when I woke up, Father was dead.”

  “You … you’ve kept this a secret—all this time—just held it inside you?” Petal whispered. “So, why are you telling us this? Why bother? Why tell us now?”

  Toli hung her head. Tears dropped into her lap. “You’re not safe with me. I can’t keep you safe! And now it’s too late. You could have taken the sled and turned back.”

  Wix gaped. “And what about you and Ruby?”

  Toli shrugged. “We would have done our best.”

  Silence fell, and only the crackling of the fire and the whispering of the wind remained. Toli wished the ground would open and swallow her.

  It was Wix who broke the thickening stillness after Toli’s confession. He rose to pace. “Honestly, Toli. You may be a princess, but sometimes you’re dumber than a bag of ice root.”

  Toli’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  He stopped walking and turned on her. “Do you think that’s the only time you’ve screwed up? I mean, you do remember who just pulled you from under the ice, don’t you?”

  “You think I could forget that?”

  “And you remember I was there right after the stampede, right?”

  “I—”

  “Did I—did either of us—ever give you the impression that we blamed you—that we thought less of you?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “You hid this. You hid this from … from your own sister. You’ve just been stewing in it. You didn’t even tell me!”

  “I was ashamed, Wix! He died because of me.”

  Wix stopped walking. “You’re not that important, Toli.”

  Her heart gave a painful throb. “I’m not important at all.”

  “Argh! That’s not what I mean. Not everything happens because of something you do—or don’t do.” He stilled, his shoulders drooping. “Just—forget it. I don’t think you’ll ever understand.”

  “But if I’d listened to Father…” Toli’s stomach rolled. She thought she might be sick, but she managed a glance at Petal. Her sister was staring at her as if she’d never seen her before. “Say something,” Toli whispered.

  Petal blinked. She stumbled to her feet. “How could you be so stupid?” She turned and walked into the trees.

  “Petal!” Toli cried.

  Wix narrowed his eyes at her. “Did it ever occur to you that we’re stronger together?” He tore a piece of board from the sled and dropped his gaze, bending to slice away huge splinters with his carving knife.

  “Wix, I”—she swallowed—“I should go after Petal.”

  He held up one hand. “Leave her be. You’ll only make it worse. The mistake you made that day—the day your Father died. That isn’t the problem.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah,” he ground out. “I know. That’s the problem.”

  Toli sat watching the fire, too empty to cry. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Petal still wasn’t back.

  Toli couldn’t stand it anymore. She picked Ruby up in her arms and wrapped her in furs before tucking her into her hood. Then she followed Petal’s trail into the forest. The dragon lifted her head and hissed at the dark trees above them. Their branches clacked and knocked as they swayed, whispering secrets.

  Toli bent her head to look for signs of Petal. She could track her, she just had to stay alert and follow the signs. She stepped into the gloom, a thick crust of ice covered the black permafrost under the trees in a patchwork. Short stretches of leaf litter clustered like scales across the ground. The silence of the forest thickened, but her heart was racing.

  She wanted to believe that Petal was fine, but the feeling that she needed to hurry grew with every step. Glancing up a small embankment, Toli came to a halt as she caught sight of a boot print, half in ice and half on the brittle remains of crumbled leatherleaves.

  “Petal?” she called.

  No answer.

  Toli’s breath caught as she spotted another print just beyond the first. “Found you,” she said, just to hear the whisper of her voice. As she moved on through the woods, she caught flashes of white ice. The foxes were following her, moving through the trees like wind. She tracked her sister back among the trees, farther into the forest.

  She shouldn’t have let her go alone.

  Several dragon scales glinted where they had fallen to the ice.

  She followed Petal’s footsteps farther and farther. Deep under the canopy, where the trees were thick, there was barely enough light to see by, but patches of algae in the ice and on the bark of the stonetrees glowed in clumps of eerie green.

  A bad feeling took root—and grew—at the base of Toli’s spine. Didn’t her sister know better than to wander this far, alone, in a strange place?

  As if triggered by the thought, a piercing scream stabbed through the stillness.

  Petal.

  “Petal!” she yelled. “Petal!”

  “I’m here,” her sister’s voice called from just ahead of her. “Up here.”

  Toli ran toward the sound of her voice. “Where?”

  “Look up.”

  Toli stretched her neck, staring up into the dark branches. She startled as something dropped to land with a thunk at her feet. She leaned over. A pile of leatherleaf lizards, already dispatched and tied together with a bit of silk, lay neatly in the snow.

  “What are you doing? Why did you scream?” Toli snapped, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.

  Grunts and falling bark announced that Petal was coming down. A moment later, her sister landed on her feet next to the lizards. She brushed off her gloved hands. “I slipped. I’m fine though. I told you I could hunt.”

  Toli gaped at her sister. She stared back up into the tree where the trunk grew thinner. The wind at the top pulled the tree one way, then another, howling and tugging at the man-sized leaves so they flapped like wings. They could have yanked Petal right off the trunk.

  The lizards clung to the leaves with their sucker feet as they rose and fell in the wind. It had been a long time since she had hunted lizards. She didn’t know Petal even knew how.

  “You went up there by yourself?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “What dragon-blasted idea made you do that? Have you lost your mind?”

  There was a long pause before Petal snapped, “I thought Ruby might be hungry for something fresh. I know I am.”

  “You should have told me! You should have waited until I could go with you, at least.”

  Petal didn’t answer.

  “What were you thinking?”

  Petal crossed her arms. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Anatolia Strongarm. What was I thinking?” Her voice got louder. “I was thinking that there might be lizards to eat, and that I know how to get them. I was thinking that I could. Do. It. Myself.”

  “Petal—”

  “And that you would just say no.”

  “Of course I would say no!”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “What good are lizards going to do anyone if you get yourself killed getting them?”

  “Yeah? Well, you’d be dead twice over if it wasn’t for Wix and Ruby and me—and you’re so busy t
rying to get rid of us, to keep us safe, that you can’t even appreciate it.”

  Toli held out her hands, palms up. “That’s not true! I appreciate it—I do!”

  “You don’t. And you’re a hypocrite!”

  “What are you talking about?” Toli’s voice rose. She gripped the ends of her braids to keep from grabbing Petal and shaking her.

  Petal glared. “You say it’s a mistake to trust you. That we’re not safe with you? But you’re here now lecturing me for going without you. So which is it, Toli? Am I safer with you or without you?”

  “I—”

  “You don’t trust Wix and me enough to talk to us.” Petal thrust the pile of dead lizards at Toli. “So maybe we should be done talking to you.” She turned on her heel and stomped away through the trees.

  Toli had to work to keep breathing. When she had remembered how, she turned to follow Petal’s footprints and met the sympathetic yellow eyes of the lead sled fox. A bitter taste filled her mouth. “I messed up again,” she whispered.

  The fox didn’t blink, didn’t even move a muscle, until Toli turned away. Then she followed in Toli’s wake, padding back toward the edge of the trees as if there was nothing else to be done.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Wix roasted the lizards, and they passed the food around in silence, Toli feeding a few pieces to Ruby. Petal sat directly across the fire from Toli, but no matter how many times Toli tried to catch her eye, her sister refused to look at her. Wix too, stared fixedly at the fire.

  Once their clothes were finally dry, everyone pitched in to pack up their things. What little was left fit inside leatherleaf bags they could sling onto their backs. Wix handed Toli her bow and a quiver of arrows without comment.

  Toli tied the remaining lizards to her bag and made sure Ruby was secure and warm in her hood. Petal looked at Wix. “What about the foxes?”

  Toli shifted and waited for him to answer. For a second she wished she could lean on Spar—or her Mother—and tell them what had happened so they could tell her what to do. The wish withered. She had to do this herself.