by Lisa McMann
“All the seek spell will do is come out of the tube,” Claire said, envisioning it. “It won’t be able to point them to which remote room we’re in, since the tubes don’t work.”
“Do you suspect Florence has figured out what’s happened by now?”
“It depends if anyone got away.”
“I’m hoping the others did.”
Claire hesitated. She was more worried that Frieda had carried through with her threat against the Stowes. “Me too,” she said after a moment.
Carina looked at her. “Do you think Frieda would actually… hurt them?”
Claire closed her eyes. “I’m definitely worried about it.”
“And who else would be able to figure out how to fix the tubes besides Aaron?”
“We can hope for Thisbe to arrive, I suppose. Florence told me she was coming.” The women grew silent.
At the bar, Seth sat up. “We’re doomed,” he muttered.
Ibrahim sat up too. “We’re not doomed,” he said sharply. “Remember who we are and where we come from. Our very nature, as Unwanteds, is one of survival.”
“I’ve never actually been an Unwanted, you know,” Seth said. He dropped his eyes, feeling suddenly inadequate among this group. He’d never faced being purged. He’d grown up in Artimé, free as anything, with little to care about except for missing his mother now and then when she left on journeys to rescue people in trouble. But then he brightened a little. “I did survive the great disastrous trip to the land of the dragons, though. And I actually didn’t get very hurt—I was pretty much unscathed compared to Fifer and Thisbe.”
Ibrahim gave him a sly look. “You also don’t have black eyes, so you weren’t exactly a prized commodity over there.”
Seth snorted. He hopped off the bar and looked around. “At least we have food. The only good thing about being down here.”
From the floor, Carina called out, “Save the food please, boys! There’s a limited amount of it, and we don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
“I swear she has ears like Simber,” Seth muttered. He looked around the lounge, feeling some level of depression floating about him. He needed to do something that would give him hope, but it was very hard to pull out of the bog of listlessness he’d plunged into after things began to look bleak.
Ibrahim jumped down too. “I feel like we’re back in Quill with nothing ahead of us. It’s stifling. We have to do something, Seth. Let’s figure out how to get out of here. Come with me.” He went over to the platform on which the lounge band played and started nosing around at the instruments. “We need to get our creative ideas flowing again. I feel like… maybe some music will help. That always gives me fresh ideas.”
Seth shrugged. It sounded like a lot of effort. But he went with Ibrahim. Maybe his Unwanted friend was right—that they needed creativity in order to feel creative. And maybe that would help everyone else, too. Music was a great way to stimulate ideas. Seth knew that well enough from his classes.
He picked up Fox’s saxophone. It was quite small compared to the ones he’d played in Ms. Morning’s classes because it had been designed for Fox. But it had a velvety sound. Seth played a few bars of a simple tune and saw Ms. Morning look up at him.
He blushed. Ms. Morning smiled encouragingly. “That’s an excellent idea,” she called out. “We could all use some music.”
Ibrahim sat down at the drum kit. He was a dancer, so the rhythm and beat really appealed to him, and basic drumming had come easily to him. He could feel the beat like it was a part of him, like it was one with his heartbeat when he danced. Soon he and Seth were putting music together, and one of Ibrahim’s sisters joined them to play the guitar and sing. Everybody in the lounge felt the tension melt for a short while. Soon others were clamoring to have a chance to play too.
Claire Morning brought the creativity-rebuilding session to a close with an oboe solo. It reminded Lani of her old friend, Meghan Ranger, who had been the most musical one of their original group of friends. The song brought tears to her eyes. Meghan had loved Ms. Morning from the moment she arrived in Artimé. Lani looked over at Sean, Meghan’s brother. His eyes were glistening too.
By the end, Seth felt a surge of life returning to him. He put the sax back on its stand, then went to sit under the bar between two stools. He closed his eyes, letting a rush of thoughts flow through his mind, so fresh he could almost feel their newness. This had been a good idea.
Seth turned his thoughts to every difficult situation he’d ever been in. He deliberately went through his solutions to them piece by piece. He’d used his wits before. He was smart and capable. And he didn’t need Fifer and Thisbe around to save him from a jam.
After a while he opened his eyes, determined to figure out how to escape. There was only one problem: He still didn’t have any ideas. But he was sure, now that his brain was moving again, that the ideas would come.
Preparing for a Journey
Dev woke up to the sun high overhead. He’d slept deeply, barely remembering anything happening since he’d closed his eyes the night before, other than dreams about the images that had flitted through his mind. He sat up gingerly and found that although Drock’s prediction of him healing quickly had come true, his ribs still thrummed with a dull ache. But he could move a bit more easily now, and his other wounds were almost gone. “Too bad Drock’s dragon breath only works on wounds he caused,” Dev said aloud, his voice cracking after a long sleep.
“What’s that?”
Startled by the voice, Dev turned and moved to the mouth of the cave he’d taken up residence in. Just outside sat Astrid, the same dragon from the previous night. She held a large fish wrapped in her tail. “Oh,” said Dev. “Hello again. Astrid, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I believe so,” said the dragon, looking puzzled. She squinted at the sun, then said apologetically, “I’ve forgotten why I’ve come to call on you.”
“Perhaps you’re meant to give me that fish?” Dev said. “And start a fire?” He could get used to this kind of service, and he didn’t mind if he had to work a little to get it.
“Of course,” said the dragon. “At least I didn’t forget to come at all.”
“That’s very remembery of you,” Dev replied, nodding encouragingly as he eyed the plump makings of his next meal. His mouth watered. While he craved other foods sometimes, Dev never got tired of fish. It had been his go-to meal whenever Princess Shanti or the castle workers had decided to withhold Dev’s meals as punishment for something Shanti had done. The river full of fish was the only loyal thing Dev had been able to count on his whole life.
Astrid started a fire for Dev, and while the fish was cooking, Dev went to get water. When he returned, the ghost dragon was surprisingly still there.
“Where do you live?” Dev asked politely, turning the fish.
“Oh…” Astrid gazed in the direction of the other caves. “Somewhere over there, I think. And you?”
“I—” Dev stopped abruptly. “I guess I don’t live anywhere anymore.”
“That must be nice,” said the dragon wistfully. “It’s what we ghost dragons all want. To disappear. Not to be stuck here in the cavelands forever. There’s nothing to do. Endless waiting.”
“I haven’t exactly disappeared,” Dev pointed out, but the dragon seemed lost in thought. “I… I still exist.” Though for a split second, Dev wondered if it were true. If everyone thought he was dead, did he actually still exist? Who decided a person’s status in life or death? The person himself? Or others who report it? The thoughts troubled him. He certainly felt like he existed, although insignificantly.
Abruptly Dev changed the subject, turning to some of the questions about the images he’d seen, figuring it was worth asking a ghost dragon about them. “Do you know where the big bulbous palace is? It’s purple and orange and red, with gold that caps all of the turrets and rooftops. It’s very beautiful.” He pulled the fish off the fire and dropped it to the ground in front of him to cool,
burning his fingertips in the process.
The dragon turned. “The palace,” she mused. “I haven’t thought of it in many years. Yes, it’s just over there.” She pointed with her tail to the south.
Dev turned to look, seeing nothing but cavelands and desert, and mountains beyond that. “Where?”
“On the other side of that mountain range, about a half day’s journey. It’s the land west of the crater lake, where Ashguard the curmudgeon rules. Surely you’ve been there.”
“I may have been,” Dev said, though he doubted it. “A half day’s journey walking?”
“Flying,” said the dragon. “It would take weeks walking there from here. The mountains would be nearly impossible to cross.”
“Oh.” Dev’s heart sank. He was feeling better, but not that good. He didn’t think he had it in him to walk and climb for weeks in his condition.
They talked about other things—sometimes the same things they’d already discussed, due to the dragon’s forgetfulness. But Dev didn’t mind. He found it almost comforting. Astrid was pleasant, and it was nice to have someone big on his side for once.
As the morning progressed, he told her all about what the Revinir was doing in Grimere—twice, just in case it helped her retain the information. And he warned her to beware of the Revinir’s growing power.
“Ah yes. I’d like to snap my jaws around that one,” the dragon lamented, once she remembered who the Revinir was. “Too bad we can’t. Won’t anyone come and take back our land? Is no one left to free us? Allow us to go on to the next life? Doesn’t anyone care about the land of the dragons? I fear we are a doomed species.”
“There are plenty of dragons,” Dev assured her. “They’re just all under the Revinir’s mind control, so they don’t know that they should fight against her, not for her.”
“What about that handsome dark purple specimen? Didn’t he bring you here? My mind is fuzzy.”
“Drock? Right—he’s the only one who can resist it. He’s different. Like me, I guess.”
The dragon smiled, her cheeks pulling back to reveal frightful rows of sharp teeth. “What is your name, please?”
“I’m Dev,” he reminded her, and grew bold. “From the line of Suresh. I—I think.”
“And I am Astrid,” she said with pride.
“Oh,” said Dev, pretending not to know. “How nice to meet you. Would you like the rest of my fish?”
“How nice to meet you,” said Astrid, accepting it. She swallowed it in one gulp, bones and all. “Have you heard about the evil Revinir?”
Dev blinked. “No,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
“I’ve just recently learned of her from another young man who was here.” Astrid relayed the entire story back to Dev, missing only a few small points. It gave Dev a sense of relief and hope that she’d remember it.
By the time the fire was low, Dev looked in the direction of the palace, calculating what he’d need for his journey, for he was becoming more and more determined to find the palace that haunted his mind. “Does the river run all the way to the palace?” he asked.
“What palace?”
“The bulbous purple-and-orange one.”
“Ah yes. With the gilded rooftops. Such a beauty.”
“Yes, that’s the one. Does this river run to it?”
“I believe it does. Though it’s been some decades since I’ve been in that area.”
Dev perked up at the news that the river would be accessible. That would help, at least. He could lie around in these caves in pain, or try to do something productive. There was little difference in his mind. And he could survive anywhere if the river was with him. “In that case… I may need to take my leave in the near future. I—I thank you for helping me. I’m feeling so much better.”
“Leave?” said Astrid. She stood up and fire shot from her nostrils. “And just moments after we first met. That’s a shame.”
Dev ducked. “If you’d like,” he said slyly, “you could go with me. We could fly there.”
“Really?” Astrid exclaimed. “Where?”
Dev groaned inwardly but plastered a smile on his face. “To the palace. The purple-and-orange one. With the golden roofs.”
Astrid smiled. “Why, Dev! I thought you’d never ask. I’d be delighted. I haven’t been anywhere in ages.” But then her face darkened. “We’ll have to stay clear of Grimere, though—have you heard? It’s been taken over by the evil Revinir.”
On the Fly
Simber and his full load of riders returned to the Quillitary yard, where Florence was demonstrating all the fire-related spells she could think of to the black-eyed children and Maiven Taveer. After Simber and his team’s invisibility spells wore off, Florence greeted them and invited them to join in the training.
“Why is she teaching fire spells?” Thisbe asked Rohan in a whisper as she took an open spot behind him.
“She thinks that because we already have the magical fire abilities of dragons, we might more easily pick up the fire-related magic. She’s been teaching us all sorts of amazing things! Everybody except Maiven can do the fire-step one now. Even me.”
Thisbe nodded in admiration. “I knew you could do it. You’ve been learning magic extremely well.”
“Ahem!” said Florence, giving Thisbe a dark look.
“Sorry,” said Thisbe, stepping back obediently. “I was just catching up.”
“We’ll have time for that later.” Florence continued with her instruction, while Thisbe went through the motions in following her, since she already knew all of the spells that were being taught. She exchanged smiles with Ishibashi and Kaylee as they joined the ranks.
Ishibashi and Kaylee, both originally from the same nonmagical world, were not at all successful in the art of magic. But under these dire circumstances they seemed willing to try again to see if any of these types of spells would work for them. When it became clear that they still didn’t have any ability in the magical arts, they slipped away to a different corner of the yard and brought out their weapons.
Ishibashi began to teach Kaylee how to use small, flat, spiked discs he’d made from old broken weapons he’d found in one of the shipwrecks off the coast of his island. He said it resembled a throwing star. He gave her a fabric wristlet that would store a few of the stars, and he showed her how to use a single finger to pull one out so she could easily access and throw it in a split second. Then he showed her how to throw them. He pointed out a nubby growth on a nearby tree and sent a star sailing into it. The weapon stuck fast.
Soon Kaylee was getting the hang of it. “It’s nice to have something that I can do from a distance,” she said. “I’m great with a sword and dagger, but that isn’t always useful on the back of a flying creature.” She cringed, remembering the last time she’d fought with her sword on Simber’s slick back and had nearly lost her life falling from a great height.
“These are lightweight and easy to carry,” Ishibashi told her. “For an old man, they are easier than a heavy sword—they’re the best weapons.” He paused, then added, “I can still fight with my fists, though.”
“I remember,” said Kaylee warmly. “Just be careful. We don’t want to lose you. Daniel needs his Papa Ishi.” She loved the three scientists like family. As others did in Artimé, she’d wondered how the men had managed to live so long. They were the oldest people Kaylee had ever heard of.
“I will be very careful, Kaylee,” Ishibashi told her solemnly, his eyes shining from the compliment. “You must trust me and not worry. And if my time in this world should end, I am ready for that.” A troubled look crossed his face, but it soon vanished. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever die. He and the other scientists had taken various doses of magical blue seaweed, and they had been responsible for giving some to Aaron as well to save his life long before they’d met Kaylee. Ishibashi knew that Aaron hadn’t told Kaylee that he might be immortal because of it. The knowledge weighed heavily on Ishibashi’s mind. He believed that Aaron shouldn’
t keep this information from his wife. But Aaron had told him once that it would only cause Kaylee pain to know it. And he’d made it clear that this information wasn’t Ishibashi’s to share.
“Well, I’m not ready for that,” said Kaylee with a decisive note in her voice. “You’re coming back home with me and Aaron when all of this is over.”
“That is my plan too. But as we both know too well, we don’t control much of anything.”
Kaylee caught his gaze and held it. Then she nodded grimly and wound up and threw another star, hitting the target dead-on.
An Important Discovery
Maiven Taveer thoroughly enjoyed Florence’s training sessions. “You are a great warrior,” she said as they stopped for a break. “I should like to have you on my side forever, and would be fearful to oppose you.” She nimbly climbed up onto Gorgrun’s back to get the box of provisions they’d brought along.
“And you are surprisingly adept after being imprisoned for so many years,” said Florence. “Thisbe told me that you’d been the leader of the military.”
“Yes. Technically I still am.” Maiven tossed the box down to Florence. “However, my army has shrunk considerably.” She pointed at the handful of Grimere children who were sitting in the shade of the Quillitary wall with Fifer, Sky, and Thisbe, waiting for the refreshments.
“Is this the extent of it?” asked Florence. She held out a hand to help Maiven to the ground.
“There may be a few more living in hiding beyond Grimere. I’m not sure. I searched one area, a palace where an old curmudgeon named Ashguard was last known to be. I suspected that area might be a hiding place for some of my people, but I didn’t find anyone. And there wasn’t sufficient time to check the village. I’ll go back upon our return if there is time. We’ll need all the help we can get to reclaim the throne.”
“Much like us,” said Florence wryly. “Do you think the Revinir will continue to destroy life as you know it in your land? How far does Grimere reach?”
