The Riders of Thunder Realm Read online

  Bridges and walkways wrapped around them in every direction, forging paths over bubbling black streams and up into the higher reaches of the cavern. The paths all led to an enormous plaza, with hundreds of balconies staring down at the countless townsfolk and merchants and sightseers all bustling below.

  ‘Look, Azof. It’s Lord Raza,’ Joss whispered to the raptor, pointing at the statue of an imperious figure in the heart of the plaza. Sculpted from marble, the figure wore serrated armour and sleek mail, with a heavy cloak draping regally from his shoulders. Though his eyes were obscured by a mask of reptilian scales, his haughty expression and cavalier smile were still plain to see. ‘If what they say about the weredragons is true, he could well be your ancestor.’

  Azof made a snuffing noise of disbelief. For centuries the fate of the weredragon race had been speculated upon, with one of the wildest theories being that they had taken the forms of thunder lizards, but all anybody knew for sure was how suddenly and mysteriously they had disappeared. All that was left of them were tombs full of bones and the three undercities that Lord Raza and his people had built in the bowels of the Backbone Ranges, with Dragon’s Tail the largest and greatest of all.

  ‘So … where to now?’ Drake asked, wincing as Pietro tugged at his reins. The tundra bear was looking particularly overwhelmed by the crowds swarming all around them. Azof and Callie were dealing with the stress by hunkering down to curl their lips at the passers-by.

  ‘We need to work out where people meet when they don’t want to be seen. A tavern maybe, or a marketplace. Something like that …’ Joss said, thinking out loud.

  ‘Not exactly something they’d include on any maps,’ said Zeke.

  ‘No, but still something you can find if you ask the right people,’ Hero replied, staring across the plaza at the entrance to the serpentrain station. ‘Follow me.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A RAPTOR ON THE HUNT

  HERO took off towards the station, leaving the others to fall in behind her. As they led their animals across the vast plaza, Joss would have wagered that they looked like the world’s most disappointing parade. People stopped mid-stride to watch them, while others walked out of their way to give them a wide berth.

  Joss ignored the onlookers and focused instead on Drake. He was walking with such rigid formality that he reminded Joss of a wounded animal, the kind that might face the chopping block if its injury was too severe. The road to Dragon’s Tail must have taken a hefty toll.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked Drake as he quietly drew up alongside him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Drake replied, risking only a sideways glance in Joss’s direction.

  ‘Try not to strain yourself,’ Joss said, but Drake wouldn’t hear it.

  ‘Honestly, there’s no need to worry,’ he replied, a tiny bead of sweat twinkling on his brow. ‘Let’s just do what we came here for …’

  Knowing that there was no point in pushing the matter, Joss left it at that, though not without resolving to keep a close eye on Drake. His attention was divided, however, as they came to the serpentrain station.

  The serpentrain was a mostly subterranean transit system that covered both the Backbone Ranges and the coastline of Ai in one big, swooping, infinite loop. The same mystic barriers that had spelt doom for the Resilient had kept the serpentrain from ever forging a path into Thunder Realm, making it an object of unseen wonder in the minds of paladero folk.

  Under different circumstances, Joss might have been tempted to descend the stairs to the platform and take a seat in one of the lavish carriages. But there was no way he would permit himself such an indulgence now. Not with his entire life as a paladero hanging in the balance.

  Still, it would have been something to feel the rush of the train beneath him as it made its way around the country, delving between magma caverns to emerge on cliffsides overlooking the ocean. Instead, he would have to settle for seeing only the entrance to the station, which was lit on either side by a pair of large spheres. The light they shed was a weak electric blue that proved just enough to guide the passengers to and from the station, casting the rest of the surrounding area in darkness.

  Loitering in those shadows was a small group of youths, ignored by all those who passed them. They were dressed in rags and oversized coats, their faces pale, hollow, dirty.

  ‘There,’ Hero said, nodding at the youths and one of them in particular. ‘That’s who we need to ask.’

  Joss looked in curiosity at the boy Hero was gesturing towards. He was wearing a torn red cloak that matched his auburn hair, and he moved among the throng of commuters with the agile precision of a raptor on the hunt. Joss had trouble tracking him as he slipped nimbly through the crowd, his red cloak little more than a flash among the muted fabrics of the miners and tradespeople streaming from the exits.

  ‘This is the final call for the express service to Illustra! All aboard please!’ a mechanoid voice crackled over the station’s loudspeakers, prompting a rush of finely tailored tourists to run for the platform. The sudden frenzy caused Joss to lose sight of the boy, but the lapse was a short one as he heard a voice cry out, ‘Let go of me!’

  Joss looked over to see Hero gripping the boy by his wrist, his fingertips poised by the open pocket of a moustachioed gentleman in line for the Illustra express.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ the Illustran man huffed.

  Hero tipped her hat at him. ‘Nothing to be concerned about, sir. Just keeping my brother here from getting on the wrong train. You know how foolish kids can be.’ She jerked the boy’s arm back, still holding him tight even as he struggled against her.

  The gentleman looked at them with suspicion. ‘Very good,’ he eventually said, and continued on his way.

  With the man now gone, the boy kicked and thrashed with even greater urgency. ‘Let me go! I didn’t even do nothing!’ he huffed, his face growing as red as his cloak.

  ‘No, but you were about to. And trust me, I did you a mercy. That cuss is just the type to have a wired purse. The alarm would have sounded and you’d be up in front of the wardens faster than an unfolding flick knife,’ Hero told him as she finally released him.

  The boy glared at her as he smoothed out his clothes. ‘I can handle myself.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Hero. ‘Tell me, what’s your name?’

  ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’ He stuck his tongue out, but Hero didn’t look to be in any mood for games. Glowering down at the boy, she repeated herself now with ice creeping into her voice.

  ‘Your name.’

  The boy looked at Hero uncertainly, folded his arms, stuck out his bottom lip. ‘Crimson,’ he spat.

  ‘Your name is Crimson?’ Zeke scoffed. ‘Are we going to meet anyone on this trip with a normal name?’

  ‘And what do they call you? Prince Pretty Boy?’ Crimson shouted, misting the air with his spittle. ‘You wouldn’t last five minutes down here, I’ll tell you that right now fer sure!’

  ‘Crimson, we need your help,’ Drake said, stepping between the two of them. ‘Do you know the Skeleton Crew?’

  All the fight in Crimson vanished, the colour in his face fading. ‘That’s the Grim
Rider’s gang,’ he said, tugging on the hem of his cloak. ‘You don’t want to muck with them. They’re real cut-throats, no jest.’

  Drake smiled as he crouched down to the boy’s eye level. Joss noticed again how stiffly he was moving. ‘Well, they took something of ours and we need to find them. Do you know where they’re likely to be?’

  ‘If they stole something, they’re like to be fencing it down in the catacombs. That’s where the real business of Dragon’s Tail is done, away from prying eyes.’

  ‘Can you take us there?’ Joss asked.

  Crimson regarded him with the same scorn that a seasoned paladero would have for an Illustran sightseer. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to go down there. I mean, I don’t even go down there.’

  ‘Good thing you’ll only have to show us where it is then,’ Joss replied.

  ‘I’m not a tourism information bureau, you know. I have a living to make.’

  Hero bared her teeth in one of her rare grins. It was hard to tell if it was an act of mirth or intimidation. ‘Oh, we can pay you for your services. After all, we have the scion of Thunder Realm’s wealthiest family right here with us,’ she said, casting a purposeful look over her shoulder. ‘Isn’t that right, Zadkille?’

  ‘What?’ Zeke blurted. ‘You hire a snot-nosed guttersnipe on a whim and then expect me to foot the bill?’

  ‘I was always told it’s a blessing to know your strengths, and your strength lies in your hip pocket,’ Hero said, her toothy smile still stretched menacingly across her face.

  Zeke’s nostrils flared as he pulled in a lungful of air and exhaled forcefully. ‘There’s no chance you’ll take a cheque, I suppose?’ he asked Crimson, who simply laughed as if he’d just been told the world’s funniest joke.

  ‘And I don’t give receipts neither,’ he replied while wiping a tear off his cheek.

  Zeke’s jaw popped as he ground his teeth together. ‘How much then?’

  Crimson tapped his chin as he pondered the question. ‘Fifty should cover it,’ he said.

  ‘Fifty?! We’ve already been robbed once. I’m not looking to repeat the experience.’

  ‘And unfortunately you will, if you don’t pay me to look out for you.’

  Zeke muttered angrily to himself as he hunted through his pockets for his billfold. Peeling off a wad of notes, he handed them to Crimson, who in turn held each of the bills up to the light for inspection. The Sleeping King’s crown glowed through the printed blue paper. Satisfied that the currency was genuine, he tucked the money into a hidden pocket in his cloak.

  ‘OK,’ he said, setting off across the plaza as if a bolt gun had just been fired. ‘Follow me.’

  Joss and the others had to grab their animals by the reins and dash after him as he moved through the crowd with the ease of a phantom. No obstacle was too great for him to duck or dodge or sidestep, making it a challenge to keep track of him. The further he went the more the buildings shrank and fell to disrepair, while the streets they occupied grew darker.

  Sensing nearby movement, Joss looked over to see Zeke matching step with him, his eyes set on Hero. She was following closely behind Crimson and proving just as agile as the young pickpocket.

  ‘How do you suppose she knew where to find this little hooligan?’ Zeke murmured.

  ‘Can’t say,’ Joss admitted, peeking over his shoulder to see Drake struggling along after them. He was too far away to have heard Zeke’s question, but that didn’t stop him from regarding the both of them with a curious glance.

  ‘We’re getting close now,’ Crimson called out as he slowed enough for everyone to catch up to him. ‘Group together and don’t look anyone in the eye.’ He didn’t wait for a reply before slipping down an alleyway so small it was little more than a seam between buildings.

  Joss stopped.

  ‘We’re not going to fit through there. Not with the animals in tow,’ he said, keeping tight hold of Azof ’s harness as the raptor kicked in frustration.

  ‘Well, I’m not leaving my cycle here,’ Zeke said as he clutched his handlebars. ‘This little misadventure has already cost me fifty crowns. There’s no way I’m letting my ride be stripped by the local sewer rats on top of that.’ Turning from the alleyway, Joss looked over at Drake. ‘Ganymede?’ he said.

  Drake regarded him with obvious suspicion. ‘Yes?’

  ‘We need someone to stay with the mounts and keep an eye on them …’

  Drake frowned at Joss, his back stiffening. ‘And you think that should be me?’ he asked. ‘Why, exactly?’

  ‘You’re injured. It’s better if you rest while you can and save your strength for the road ahead.’

  Drake’s frown intensified as his eyes narrowed. ‘And that’s the only reason?’

  ‘Of course,’ Joss replied. ‘Do you honestly think there’d be any other?’

  Crimson stuck his head out from the alleyway. ‘Are you all coming or not?’ he asked.

  Joss once again pivoted to Drake, who sighed as he slumped his shoulders. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Joss said as he placed Azof ’s reins in Drake’s hand. ‘We’ll be back soon.’

  ‘And having reclaimed the key with any luck,’ Hero said as she added Callie’s reins to Drake’s growing collection.

  ‘Guard this with your life,’ Zeke shook the ignition rod to his cycle in Drake’s face before dropping it into his hands. ‘And no joyriding.’

  ‘I’ll try to resist …’ Drake muttered.

  As Joss followed Crimson, he paused to take one last look at Drake. This time, Drake met his gaze. Joss raised

  his hand in farewell, and Drake returned the gesture with such loneliness that Joss felt a sudden pang of guilt.

  If he’d been honest, he would have admitted that it was more than just Drake’s injury that had caused him to be left behind. The truth was that Joss didn’t want Drake with them should they end up confronting Thrall, unsure as he was about where his loyalties lay. But now, staring into Drake’s eyes, he didn’t know what to think.

  Setting aside his uncertainty as best he could, Joss disappeared into the alley. He didn’t look back again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A BLACK ARCHWAY

  CRIMSON charged forward, leading the three prentices past the makeshift stalls and ramshackle huts that had been assembled throughout the twisting maze of the alleyway. It reminded Joss of the shanty village in the shadow of Tower Town, but the darkness here was colder, blacker and far more claustrophobic.

  The first stall, such as it was, belonged to a lanky man with a hook for a hand. He stood beside a heap of dented illuminators that looked as if they’d been ripped straight from their access ports, shouting at the top of his lungs about his quality goods and crazy prices.

  Beside him, an old man sat with his legs crossed on a threadbare blanket, which was almost entirely concealed by his collection of potions and herbal remedies. He had everything from ground triceratops horn to a jar of pickled tiger eyes to dozens of bottles of titanoboa oil, all of it for sale, all of it illegal. He neighboured a stall that had been scraped together from rickety crates, where a tall man in canvas
robes was selling live animals that all looked to have been poached from the Eastern Wilds.

  Joss was shocked to spot a gremlin in the far corner with a chain around its throat. The creature was sitting listlessly on top of a wire cage that struggled to contain the sizeable bird it held. Looking closer, Joss saw that the bird was in fact a phoenix, though it was hard to tell with how dull its plumage was. Ordinarily the phoenix’s feathers would shimmer in brilliant shades of white, blue, gold and scarlet, but in this grim place it had lost all its lustre.

  ‘That’s not right,’ Joss said, glaring at the man in the canvas robes. ‘He shouldn’t be treating those poor creatures that way.’

  ‘Right or wrong, I wouldn’t say anything if you ever want to make it back topside,’ Crimson replied, continuing on past the robed man without so much as glancing at him. ‘And besides, I don’t see how a lizard herder can say what’s right or wrong when it comes to the treatment of poor creatures.’

  ‘We look after the animals in our charge,’ Joss protested, but Crimson just scoffed.

  ‘Right up until the moment you sell them to the slaughterhouse,’ he said. Joss had only just opened his mouth to argue the point when Hero intervened.

  ‘If we’re going to have any hope of catching the Skeleton Crew unawares, I suggest we continue on in silence,’ she said, leaving Joss to quietly fume.

  Crimson guided them on past the rest of the stalls. All that was left when they came to the end of the alley were a couple of vagrants huddled over a weak fire and a granite wall that soared upward to be lost in the gloom of the cavern. A black archway had been carved into the base of the wall, the entrance to a stairway that led down into the bowels of the undercity.

  ‘Here they are,’ Crimson said, his voice now little more than a whisper. ‘The catacombs. This is where I leave you.’