by T.A. Barron
“Includin’ good pastries,” joked Morey.
“Especially that,” the boy replied. Then, midway through a bite, his brow furrowed. “We just didn’t expect to get lost at sea, run out of supplies, and then almost drown in a huge whirlpool.”
Morey patted him on the shoulder. “Yer here now, lad.”
He nodded. “And I’m glad of that! But I sure do wish I knew how we happened to get saved.”
Shangri shot a knowing glance at Promi.
“Just one of those fluke waves,” said Promi casually, thinking of the watery whale’s tail of the sea goddess. He smirked at the pun, doubting anyone else would get it. But on his shoulder, Kermi groaned painfully.
“Amazin’ things happen sometimes,” added Shangri, giving Promi a wink. “Ye jest never know what’ll happen next.”
“Story of my life,” said Lorno as the group turned down another street, this one lined with windows with colorful flower boxes.
“What was your reason to be on that ship?” asked Promi. “You’re not old enough to be one of your country’s great scientists or inventors, are you?”
“Not at all. My job on the ship was, well . . . not so highly skilled. I was the apprentice to the assistant deck mopper.”
Promi grinned. “You were very good at it, I’m sure.”
“Terrible, actually.”
“So tell us . . . what do you want to be?”
Lorno hesitated. “Well, someday, if I’m lucky, I’d love to . . .”
“What?” pressed Shangri. “What do ye really want to be?”
He took a deep breath. “Well . . . a bard. A storyteller of great fame.”
Frowning, he shook his head. “Trouble is . . . I haven’t found the story I really want to tell. Somewhere out there,” he said wistfully, “it exists, I keep hoping. My one great story. But I don’t have any idea where.”
Shangri sidled up to him and took his hand. “Ye’ll find it, Lorno. I jest know ye will.”
He managed a small smile. “Thanks. And by the way, my name isn’t Lorno.”
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
The baker chimed in, “I heard ye meself say that’s yer name, jest after ye landed on top o’ me.”
“That was then,” answered the boy, “and this is now.” Seeing the bewildered looks all around him, he explained, “Every great writer needs a pen name, you see. And I haven’t found the right one yet. So I keep changing my name, trying new ones on for size.”
Promi laughed out loud. “So what’s your name right now? Quick, tell us—before it changes again.”
The boy, not seeing the humor, said crustily, “It’s Vasto.”
Shangri scrunched her freckled nose at him. “I liked Lorno better.”
“Really? Well, I guess then I could try something else. How about . . . Tello?”
She just shrugged. “Whatever ye like, I s’pose.”
Trying to keep a straight face, Promi asked, “How can you have a name that’s famous and celebrated as a bard if you keep changing it?”
“Someday, I’ll find a name that everyone will remember!” the boy answered. Suddenly, looking confused, he turned to Shangri. “What was that last name I told you? I, um . . . forgot it.”
Kermi, unable to resist a barb, finally spoke up. “Before you find a name everyone will remember, you’ll need to remember it yourself.”
Tello, formerly Vasto and Lorno, blushed almost as red as the awning of the shop they were just passing, a provider of herbs and spices. He ran his hand through his blond curls. “I guess,” he admitted, “you have a point.”
“Kermi always has a point,” Promi observed. “And believe me, it’s never dull.”
The kermuncle’s tail reached up and batted Promi’s ear. “You’re the only one around here who’s dull, manfool.”
“Now that’s another amazing thing about this island,” said the boy. “Animals who talk! We don’t have anything like that in Greece.”
“My sympathies,” grumbled Kermi. “So you have no choice but to listen to people like this manfool all the time.”
Tello winced as he glanced at Promi. “I see what you mean.”
“Oh, he’s just getting started,” Promi said, rubbing his earlobe. “You should see him when he’s not in such a happy mood.”
Though Kermi’s eyes narrowed, he said nothing. He merely blew a stream of bubbles.
Shangri pointed at the bubbles and exclaimed, “I jest love it when ye do that.”
Instantly, Kermi stopped. He turned away and pretended to be sound asleep.
“Here we be,” announced Morey as they strode up to his bakery. “This is where I make all the food ye’ve been eatin’.” He pointed at the floor above the awning. “And that’s yer new home, lad.”
“Thank you again.”
“No trouble,” the hefty fellow replied. “Come settle yerself inside, Lorno—er, no, Totto.”
“Tello. For now, anyway.”
Shangri faced Promi. “Will ye be comin’ in, also? Ye must be hungry for another pastry er two.” Her eyes glowed with their shared secret—and also a look of mischief. “I mean . . . after all the hard work ye’ve done today.”
“You’re referring to that heavy sack I carried up the hill, right?” he replied with an equally mischievous look.
“Right, Promi. What else?”
He grinned. “But, no, as much as I love your pastries, I’m totally full.”
“At least,” added Morey, “fer an hour or two.”
Shangri tapped Promi’s tunic pocket, which she knew held the journal she’d given him. “Guess ye’ll have a few new things to write ’bout after today.”
“Just a few.” He tousled her red hair. “You really do know how to make an amazing picnic.”
Looking up at him, she grinned. “Anytime.”
CHAPTER 18
Invisible Wings
After parting with the others, Promi continued to walk down the street. Thinking about the day’s remarkable events, he didn’t pay any attention to where he was walking, merely padding along the cobblestones. He even forgot about the sullen little passenger who was riding on his shoulder, pretending to snooze.
Abruptly, he halted. For he was standing, he suddenly realized, in the very same alley where he’d first met Atlanta months before. He stared at the spot where he’d found her, looking as bedraggled as any beggar after being chased out of the Great Forest by Grukarr. What was it about her that had prompted him to talk with her—and, much more amazing, to offer her his newly stolen lemon pie?
Her eyes, he recalled. A rich shade of blue-green, they reminded Promi of a springtime forest and an impossibly deep lake, brought together by some alluring magic he couldn’t describe.
He bit his lip. I miss her. Curse the stars and moon above, I do!
A wave of regret flowed over him, as overwhelming as any real wave sent by the sea goddess. How could I have ruined everything?
He kicked a pebble down the cobblestones, walking aimlessly, feeling more glum with each step. Even if she did say those awful things . . . she did have one good reason.
She could be right. He heaved a sigh. Well, now I know exactly what I need to do! I’m going to march back out to that forest and tell her I’m sorry.
It may not do any good, he knew. But he felt real determination to try. I’ll go first thing in the morning, he vowed. And nothing will get in my way.
“Do my senses deceive me?” said Kermi from his shoulder perch. “Or is something troubling my dear manfool?”
Promi winced. The last thing he wanted to do was talk with Kermi about all this. But he couldn’t very well deny everything and pretend to be just fine. Deciding to tell the truth but keep it short, he grumbled, “I was an idiot to Atlanta.”
The kermuncle’s tail thumped against h
is back, as if applauding. “You? An idiot? Why, that is the single most intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
Shaking his head, Promi demanded, “Why did you ever come down here, anyway? Can’t you do something better with your time? Aren’t there enough people you can torment up in the spirit realm?”
Kermi’s eyes narrowed to blue slits. “Since you asked . . . I came only because Jaladay begged me. So I could give you a warning.”
“What sort of warning?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing too important,” said Kermi in a bland tone of voice. “Just a little advice to you about how to avoid destroying Atlantis, the mortal world, and the entire spirit realm, as well.”
Promi stiffened. “What advice?”
Enjoying the moment, Kermi yawned and sent a few bubbles floating lazily up to the sky. “Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Tell me now!”
“All right, but you don’t need to get so rude about it.” He cleared his little throat. “Jaladay had a vision of a Greek ship approaching Atlantis—a ship loaded with passengers and a blue dolphin on its sail.”
“All right. So what was her advice?”
“She insisted, manfool, that you absolutely must not save that ship! That if you did . . . a great catastrophe would follow. A catastrophe big enough to destroy everything.”
Stunned, Promi tried to digest this. “But . . . you never told me before it happened.”
“You never gave me a chance, manfool!”
“And you—” started Promi. But he halted abruptly, having just heard a sound that always stopped him short. A sound he knew well. A sound that, the first time he’d heard it, transformed his life forever.
The distant roar of a lion.
Theosor, he knew instantly. But why was the wind lion here?
Only then did Promi realize that, in his distracted wandering through the streets, he’d come very close to the Bridge to Nowhere. The structure, stretching partway across the canyon, disappeared into billowing clouds of mist. It looked, as always, so flimsy that it could barely support the weight of all the prayer leaves that covered its planks like a flock of silver-winged butterflies.
Yet he knew well this bridge was anything but flimsy. It spanned two worlds, one mortal and the other immortal. For those brave enough to walk upon it—or, as Promi had done that first time, to leap off it—this bridge reached amazingly far.
Drawn to the sound of the wind lion’s roar, Promi stepped closer to the bridge. Kermi, who had also heard Theosor’s call, stayed perfectly still. Clouds rose from the rapids in the gorge, swirling and churning, making Promi’s hair and Kermi’s fur sparkle with mist.
Just as Promi placed one foot on the first warped plank of the bridge, the wind lion’s magnificent form appeared out of the clouds. Theosor’s silver-hued mane rippled like water, as his huge paws strode closer. Somewhere near the lion’s massive shoulders, invisible wings vibrated in the mist. But his most striking attribute was his eyes—huge brown eyes that could see from one world into the next.
“Theosor!” exclaimed Promi, peering into those eyes. “It’s good to see you again.”
Then, speaking to the wind lion by thought, he added, I hope you’re not angry at me for flying between the worlds without you.
“No, young cub,” Theosor replied in his deep, rumbling voice that rolled like thunder. “I am not angry, though you cannot fly as fast as I can.”
“That I know! Only you could have outraced Narkazan and his entire army.”
Theosor nodded, rippling his great mane. “Nor can you fly through the veil without tearing it, for only wind lions possess the magic to do that.”
At the mention of the veil, Promi frowned. He started to ask the wind lion about Sammelvar’s claims, but before he could, Theosor spoke again.
“No time for that now, young cub. I have been sent here to find you—and bring you to your parents at once.”
Promi’s frown deepened markedly. He rubbed his foot into the plank. “Last time I saw them . . . it wasn’t exactly a happy reunion.”
“No matter,” boomed the wind lion. “Your sister Jaladay is missing.”
The young man jolted, and Kermi released a screech. “Missing?” they both asked at once.
Theosor nodded. “She may be in grave danger.”
Immediately, Promi leaped off the bridge and landed squarely on the lionsteed’s back. A whooooshhh of invisible wings—and they vanished into the clouds.
CHAPTER 19
Mist Fire
The instant he leaped, Promi felt time slow down. The sound of prayer leaves flapping slowed to a steady drumbeat, each beat sending a cherished prayer to the spirit realm. Even the rush of cold, wet air on his face seemed to happen in slow motion. As did the sensation of landing on Theosor’s sturdy back.
Already, Promi thought, time is moving faster for everyone on Atlantis than for me.
Suddenly, everything returned to what seemed like a normal pace, telling him that he’d adjusted to spirit time. For a moment, he just opened his senses to the experience of flying, once again on his old friend. He felt the flexing of Theosor’s powerful shoulders, saw the vibration in the mist from invisible wings, smelled the moisture on the lion’s fur, and heard his own heart pounding with excitement. And he also felt the squeeze of Kermi’s tail wrapped securely around his neck.
Promi grabbed hold of the wind lion’s mane as they plunged deeper into the clouds. Theosor bounded vigorously, turning this way and that, following a path only he could see into the billowing mist. All the while, the lionsteed’s silver fur glistened like moonlight on a flowing stream.
As always, the spirit realm changed continuously. Mountains of mist rose higher and higher before they melted away into lush valleys or rolling plains. Oceans of clouds suddenly opened into canyons so deep they had no bottom, before a new mountain rose right out of the abyss. An endless procession of vistas melted into each other, ever evolving.
At the same time, Promi glimpsed an infinite array of places within places, scenes within scenes. Sometimes he’d see a brilliant rainbow forming in the heart of a peak; other times he’d find hints of forests or deserts within oceans. And for every place he could identify, many more remained a mystery.
The wind lion veered one way and then another, leaping over an emerging cloudscape here and plunging straight through one there. Some places felt like windy tunnels, with hordes of misty creatures racing past. Others, by contrast, seemed utterly still—until a flock of cloud-winged birds bubbled out of its surface and rose into the sky, or a single gigantic head appeared and swallowed the place entirely.
“Young cub,” rumbled Theosor, “I am worried about Jaladay. And about what this could mean.”
“So am I,” answered Promi.
“Me too.” The kermuncle’s small body shuddered. “I should never have left her side for that fool’s errand.”
Theosor vaulted upward, landing on a vertically flowing river of mist that carried them swiftly higher. Seconds later, he leaped off the rising river and plunged into a cloudscape where everything glowed different shades of green. A deep green ocean swelled with tides, as a blue-green mountain twirled above the water. Veering again, the wind lion loped across a vast, stormy scene where lightning and thunder exploded on all sides.
Between blasts, Theosor said, “You once told me, young cub, that impossible challenges were your specialty.”
“Still are,” declared Promi.
The wind lion turned his head just enough to fix his gaze on the young man. “Good. Because my inner sense tells me that this involves much more than your sister . . . and could be your greatest challenge yet.”
Promi clenched his fingers more tightly in the lion’s mane.
Just then, Theosor dived into a lightless tunnel. Like a drum, it echoed with the thunder claps the
y’d left behind, until at last they had traveled so far the storms faded entirely away. In a sudden burst of light, they flew out of the tunnel and into a place of blue sky and wispy shreds of mist.
Straight ahead, in the middle of a revolving ring of mist, stood Sammelvar and Escholia. Both of them turned toward the approaching visitors. Sadness and worry showed on both their faces.
Entering the ring of mist, Theosor landed on a tuft so airy it was almost invisible. Gracefully, he padded over to the elder spirits. As Theosor came to a stop, Promi jumped off. With the wind lion by his side and the kermuncle on his shoulder, he faced his parents.
“Something gravely serious has happened,” said Sammelvar.
“Jaladay is missing?” asked Promi. “For how long?”
“Since we last saw her on the purple cloudfield of Orquesta,” said Escholia, her voice trembling. “Right after you left us.”
Promi tensed. “No sign of her at all?”
“Nothing,” answered Sammelvar. “Save this.” He held up Jaladay’s turquoise headband. “It was left on the cloudfield.”
Promi reeled at the sight of the cloth that he’d only seen on his sister’s face or in her hand. Kermi growled angrily.
“There is more,” continued Sammelvar. “On the spot where she’d been sitting, we found the unmistakable evidence of mistwraiths.”
Escholia nodded grimly. “Their black sparks do so much damage. Especially to such a delicate place.”
“Mistwraiths!” Promi blew some stray hairs off his face. “I thought they all went into hiding after Narkazan disappeared.”
“So did I,” rumbled Theosor. “How dare they show themselves?”
Gazing at the wind lion, Sammelvar said, “That is indeed the right question. I can only surmise that something significant has happened—something that gives those dreadful beings the protection they need to abandon their hiding places.”
“Not—” began Promi.
