Enemy of the Realm Page 8

  Dree smiled and knelt down beside her little sister. “It’s too dangerous for you out there, little one. You stay here with the others. Maybe you can work on the armor? And keep an eye on Rochin for me,” she muttered, eyeing her brother darkly.

  Abi drooped her head in disappointment. “I will. Will you be safe out there?”

  Dree lifted her sister’s chin and looked her in the eye. “Always. Now I have to go talk to Dad. You be good, all right?”

  As Dree spoke to her little sister, Jack took Marcus aside.

  “I checked out what we have for hybrid supplies. There are some parts from a damaged drone they captured, but it’s not enough. I’ll stay here and start working on a new hybrid, but I need more material: a new computer core, some weapons systems, extra wiring. I need to create an energy transferal for the Egg.”

  Marcus nodded. “I’ll see what I can find at the factory. I’ll bring back whatever I can.”

  Jack put his hand on Marcus’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. “I’m proud of you, Marcus. And so is your father.”

  Marcus forced a smile. “Do you think he’s okay?”

  “I do,” Jack said. “He knows too much for anyone to hurt him. He’ll be there waiting when we get back—trust me. And then we’ll get him out. For now, go stop those drones. And be careful, understand?”

  Marcus nodded and then followed Dree to the other side of the war room, where they saw Nathaniel talking to a young Sage. The golden dragon was about the size of an elephant, and his scales were still a bit pale and dull—apparently, the gold grew more magnificent with age. He was talking quietly with Nathaniel, and Marcus nudged Dree and walked a bit closer to hear.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Nathaniel said.

  The dragon growled. “I want to help. I need to help. My mother—”

  “I know,” Nathaniel said softly. “I’m sorry, Emmett. But you’re still so young.”

  “So are you,” Emmett replied sullenly. “Please let me join. I need to do something.”

  Nathaniel looked at him for a long moment, as if considering the young dragon, and then sighed. “Fine. But you stay well back until the signal, understand? And stick close to Erdath at all times.”

  The dragon broke into a toothy grin. “My first mission.”

  Nathaniel laughed grimly. “But not your last, I’m afraid.”

  Marcus and Dree exchanged a look and continued on toward Abelard.

  “Maybe Nathaniel’s not a total loss,” Dree muttered.

  Marcus laughed. “Maybe.”

  Abelard turned to them, a long sword hanging in a sheath at his side. He looked like a warrior.

  “Ready?” he asked them grimly.

  Marcus and Dree nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s gather the troops. It’s time to hit back.”

  Chapter

  11

  Dree stood crouched in the tall grass at the base of a mountain, surrounded by Resistance fighters. There were fourteen of them gathered for the attack, including Dree and Marcus, while the remainder had stayed behind to help guard Forost.

  Marcus stood next to her, and both kept their eyes fixed on the massive factory that stood on the edge of Dracone. Once a steel mill, the building rose up like a mountain itself, its fortress-like walls rising as tall as the highest of the palace towers. A few white lights glared on the outside—the only building in Dracone to have them. They shone like stars. The whole facility seemed like a strange blot on the quiet, darkened city landscape.

  The factory was also surrounded by guards. Dree could make out at least twenty of them in the darkness, all standing with long spears slung over their shoulders. They were members of the Protectorate. It was odd to see speared warriors defending a factory that churned out technology as advanced as drones, but George told Marcus he had never introduced handheld guns, and it seemed Francis thankfully had no idea how to build them, judging by the fact that none of the Protectorate had any. But they were manning large crossbows, trebuchets, and other aerial defenses to guard against dragon attacks. The Resistance would have to take those down first.

  “The guard shift change takes place in the next few minutes,” Abelard said to the group, his low, deep voice carrying over the still nighttime air. “As soon as this shift leaves, we make our move. Remember, the priority is to knock out any air defenses and get all of the factory workers to safety. We won’t have long before the drones respond from wherever Xidorne is keeping them. When we get the last worker out, we give the signal and the dragons will attack.”

  Dree looked back, where she knew at least twenty dragons were perched on the mountainside like enormous birds of prey, waiting to make their move. Lourdvang was among them, as were Erdath and the young Sage, Emmett.

  “Marcus and Dree need to collect extra drone pieces to help with the construction of the new hybrid,” Abelard continued. “So make sure you are ready to help them get the materials out. Other than that, good luck.”

  Everyone turned back to the factory, and within minutes the guards began to head for the front gate, where more armed men were waiting to take over the next shift. All moved with military precision.

  “Go!” Abelard commanded.

  The Resistance fighters broke into a swift jog through the meadow, moving in a pack. It was a cool night, and Dree felt the breeze washing over her as they hurried toward the chain-link fence that had been built around the factory. It stood at least ten feet tall, but it was vulnerable. She and a few others stepped forward with metal cutters, and they quickly snipped openings in the fence. The Resistance fighters streamed in like rainwater through a leaky roof, spreading out and breaking into a full run as they approached the factory. A group of fighters broke off to go dismantle a massive crossbow standing outside the wall—it was armed with gleaming iron arrows designed to tear through dragon wings.

  The rest of the group headed for the factory, with Dree in the lead. She nodded to Marcus as they sidled toward a side door. The night was still quiet, and the rest of the fighters reached the wall in safety.

  “Go,” Abelard said, and Nathaniel opened the door and hurried inside, clutching a sword.

  There was a clash of steel, and when Dree came in she saw a guard lying on the floor, unmoving. Nathaniel cleaned his sword, his young, handsome face set like a stone.

  “Come on,” he barked. “Find the workers!”

  Dree and Marcus rounded the corner, but both stopped in disbelief. The drone factory was no longer just hidden beneath the floor. The entire mill had been retrofitted now, and an assembly line of drones filled the massive space. Workers were welding wings to hulls, overseeing massive forges, and monitoring machines that George had created to fabricate computer cores and wiring and missiles. The entire factory looked like a living, breathing organism—churning out nothing but death. Half-finished drones waited everywhere: Destroyers, Trackers, Surveyors. There must have been fifty drones under construction. A brand-new army.

  Marcus ran to a huge bank of controls nearby, scanning over the screens. He found a red lever at the side and pulled it down. Immediately, the machinery stopped and the conveyor belts ground to a halt.

  The factory workers all looked up, confused, and Abelard’s voice rang out.

  “All of you . . . get out now! This building is going to be destroyed.” He gestured to his fighters. “Get them out!”

  Nathaniel and the others rushed forward, ushering the bewildered men and women toward the door. The fighters weren’t overly gentle. Dree saw Nathaniel shove one older man toward the door, causing him to lose his balance and hit the ground hard, groaning. Dree stepped in front of Nathaniel, glaring at him.

  “Stop that!” she snarled.

  “He’s building those things, and you are going to protect him?” Nathaniel asked. “As far as I’m concerned, he deserves to be left here.”

  The old m
an struggled back to his feet, grimacing. “We were ordered by the Prime Minister to work here,” he said nervously. “We didn’t choose it.”

  “You could have shut it down,” Nathaniel said sharply.

  “They would have killed us,” he said. “The Protectorate have been watching us like hawks.”

  Dree stared daggers at Nathaniel and then helped the man toward the door. Soon the workers were flooding out, and she looked around the factory, searching for Marcus. She spotted him inspecting parts next to the assembly line. Marcus and Jack had told Dree what to look for, so she hurried over to another supply area. She found what looked like computer cores and threw one in her bag—a big bulky cylinder that must have weighed twenty pounds at least. She turned to grab some extra wiring when an alarm suddenly went off, sounding like an old war siren. Black armored guards rushed in from the front entrance, carrying swords and spears.

  It was time to go.

  “Marcus!” Dree called, turning for the exit. “We need to get out of here!”

  He nodded, but continued scooping up materials. Abelard was already starting for the exit with the other fighters, and Nathaniel was ushering out the last of the workers.

  “Marcus!” Nathaniel called. “Now!”

  Dree was halfway to the exit when Marcus finally turned and started running. He didn’t make it. A guard burst out from behind a partition and body-checked him hard, slamming into one of the conveyor belts. Marcus kept his footing, but he grabbed his ribs, wincing, and the towering guard punched him across the face with a gloved right fist, knocking him onto the ground. Dree screamed and turned to help.

  “I’ll get him,” Nathaniel shouted, racing ahead of her.

  But he wasn’t needed. Marcus looked up from the floor, holding his jaw. Blood spilled out between his fingers. Dree saw immediately that something wasn’t right. His eyes looked . . . orange.

  Marcus clenched his fists and turned sharply, rising at the same time. Fire swarmed over his fist and arm as he turned, and he stuck his hand out and hit the guard with a fireball, sending him flying backward. The man hit the wall and crashed into the ground, unconscious, as Marcus stood seething, the fire flickering out around him. Dree watched in fascination. She saw the danger too late.

  The fire was streaming over some of the power cells, and one of them was beginning to overheat.

  “Marcus!” she shouted.

  Nathaniel got there first. He tackled Marcus, and both boys went tumbling under the conveyor belt just as an explosion rocketed through the air. Nathaniel and Marcus emerged from the other side of the conveyor, having only just escaped the explosion. Marcus’s eyes and hands were normal again, and he and Nathaniel ran toward the exit.

  Dree joined them. “Marcus, what was that—”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shooting Dree an unsure glance before continuing on.

  They ran out through the exit and across the supply yard toward the fence. The factory workers and Resistance fighters were streaming through, and when Abelard saw them, he took out a flare and lit it.

  An explosion of red streamed up into the sky, hanging there like a supernova. The signal was given. In the distance, massive black shapes began to swoop off the mountain, silhouettes against the moonlight.

  “Faster!” Abelard hollered.

  The last of the workers made it through the fence and sprinted across the field in a panicked mob, while Abelard waved Dree, Marcus, and Nathaniel through. He followed them just as the Protectorate guards burst through the factory doors, charging after the Resistance. They couldn’t catch up in time, though.

  The first dragons swooped in, and the night became awash with fire. As Dree ran into the meadow, she saw flames consuming the factory, now burning like a torch. Dragons circled overhead, diving down to attack. She knew Lourdvang was there, unleashing his fury.

  Within minutes, the structure was collapsing in on itself, and the group had moved farther into the field toward the mountains. The factory workers had been released, and they all fled back into the city. As the Resistance made their way into the mountains, they stopped in the valley and looked back. The attack was over, and the factory was destroyed. The mission had been a success.

  “Victory!” Nathaniel shouted, pumping his fist.

  The cry was repeated, echoing through the night.

  Dree hugged her father, and he beamed.

  “This was the first step,” he said. “Now we have a finite number of drones to fight. The tide is finally turning.”

  Dree smiled. “I’m proud of you, Dad.”

  Abelard smiled back, and they turned toward the mountains.

  But the celebration didn’t last long. The dragons swooped down around them, their mood sullen. Lourdvang and Erdath held an injured dragon between them, and as they lowered him to the ground, the small dragon cried out. A massive steel arrow stuck out of his golden torso.

  Nathaniel rushed forward. “Emmett!”

  Dree recognized the young dragon who had begged Nathaniel to join the fight. She looked at the arrow in his side and felt sick.

  If they didn’t move quickly, Emmett was going to die.

  Chapter

  12

  Emmett let out a deep, rasping groan, and Marcus and Dree rushed forward to help. Lourdvang grabbed the barbed iron arrow with his teeth and yanked it cleanly out of the young dragon’s side, eliciting a spurt of black blood and a terrible howl from Emmett. Nathaniel was shouting for help at no one in particular, and Marcus pulled off his jacket and pressed it tightly to the wound, stopping the flow of blood as best as he could.

  “We need to get him back to Nolong,” Erdath growled. “He may be able to heal the wound. A Sage’s fire can mend most injuries . . . it’s the young one’s only chance.”

  “He won’t make it,” Marcus said, pressing with both hands. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

  Erdath put a giant clawed limb over the wound, holding the jacket firmly down, and Marcus stepped back. Emmett groaned in pain again, his black eyes barely staying open.

  Nathaniel leaned in close. “You’re going to be okay,” he said, stroking Emmett’s nose.

  Abelard motioned to the rest of the Resistance fighters. “Keep moving. Get back to Forost.” He turned to Erdath. “The drones will sweep the area soon. I’m sure they’re already on their way.”

  Erdath nodded and turned to the dragons. “Lourdvang and I will take Emmett back. Inform Nolong to be ready when we get there. Keep the skies clear for the humans. Do not engage any drones.”

  Immediately, the dragons took to the skies, their enormous bodies and wings practically blocking out the moon.

  Erdath turned back to Marcus. “We need to hurry.”

  He lifted his claw from Emmett’s torso, and Marcus inspected the wound. Dree leaned in next to him.

  “Can we bandage it?” she asked.

  “We’ll just have to keep pressure on it,” Marcus responded. He leaned in close to Emmett, making sure to keep his voice calm and gentle. “Emmett, you’ll need to keep your claw on the wound while Lourdvang and Erdath carry you. Do you think you can do that?”

  Emmett grunted in response.

  “You’ll be fine,” Nathaniel said again, still sounding frantic. “Think of your mother. This is nothing but a scratch.”

  Dree looked at Abelard questioningly, and Abe lowered his voice. “Emmett’s mother was Erwing, Nathaniel’s mother’s dragon.”

  Dree nodded, and Marcus applied Abe’s and her jackets to the wound before placing Emmett’s claw hand against them. But when Lourdvang and Erdath went to pick him up, Emmett cried out in pain.

  “I don’t think he can make the trip,” Marcus said. “He needs to rest. We need Nolong to get here. I’m sure he’ll come looking for us. We have no choice but to wait.”

  Erdath looked to the sky, searching for drones overhead
. There was worry in his eyes, but he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “So we wait.”

  Dawn was not too far away. Red-and-orange light soon filled the sky, pushing the shadows away. Marcus, Dree, Abe, and Lourdvang sat together, while Nathaniel and Erdath kept watch for Nolong. Thankfully, Francis seemed more concerned with protecting the city from more attacks, and he hadn’t sent the drones to find them . . . yet.

  “It was a victory,” Abe said, “but we have a long way to go.”

  “Still,” Marcus agreed, “it was a start. Francis can’t rebuild that factory himself.”

  “Can he get at your father?” Lourdvang asked.

  Marcus shook his head. “My father is in CIA custody. He’s safe for now.”

  At the mention of George, Marcus felt a surge of guilt over leaving his father behind. Maybe they should have gone back for him. Maybe they could have overpowered the CIA agent. Was he a bad son for running? Would he have been so quick to abandon a father who had raised him and been there his whole life? That thought just made him feel even guiltier. He wondered if he would ever be able to just forgive his father for leaving him. He would never know until they had a little time to mend their relationship. They had finally started, and then he had been torn away once again. Marcus promised himself that he would go rescue his father as soon as possible and then bring him back to Dracone where he belonged.

  “So we are dealing with a finite number of drones,” Dree said. “It’s something, at least. Francis may stop his attacks on the villages and outskirts. It buys the people some more time.”

  “We may have been too late for that. Most of the villages are destroyed,” Abe said quietly. “There are only a few left. Cardon, Maise, and Ura. Most of the survivors from the other villages had fled to the city or taken refuge in the mountains. Many have died. Francis has effectively cleared the way for his complete control.”

  “Except for the Resistance and the dragons,” Marcus said.

  “Exactly. If we keep fighting, then the war isn’t over yet.”