The Iron-Jawed Boy (Sky Guardian Chronicles)

by Lee, Nikolas

  An apology.

  Vinya stopped at the side of a knick-knack cart. “Such strange contraptions humans desire,” she said, before poking a Slinky with her finger.

  Ion wondered over to a wooden stall brimming with bright flowers and shimmering succulents. A man with hair like he’d just been shocked quickly swung around the corner.

  “Looking to purchase something for that special someone?” he asked, smiling before handing Ion a clay pot filled with nothing but dirt. Gingerly, the merchant pushed a red seed deep into the soil, and when his finger left the pot, a shining pink flower unfolded from the soil. From its pollinated center sprouted a glossy-lipped mouth, which sang: “For that special someone on that special day, may they rejoice with their lover, in this month of May.”

  “But...it isn’t May,” said Ion.

  The man’s smile swiftly turned upside down. “Look, kid, I’ve got things to sell here. If you’re not interested, then take you—and your rather distasteful robe—elsewhere.”

  And then Solara swooped by, screamed, “A fool’s gift!” and smacked the pot to the floor.

  Not a blink could be had before the merchant was on the floor, sobbing over his shattered pot.

  “My Enchanted Wallflower!” he whimpered. “My poor Enchanted Wallflower!”

  Vinya plucked Ion from the crowd and out of the man’s sight, whose cries now filled the narrow Protean streets. With the other Guardians following behind, Vinya led Ion down a canyon of temples lined with turquoise columns and trees of red and yellow—though not illuminated like those of the Acropolis. They strode beneath a mighty archway, met on the other side by the fresh air and beauty of the Forums. It was the busiest of Protea’s three marketplaces, but the only one Ion hadn’t visited after he became Dread’s slave. The only one still alive with good memories.

  Mother had always brought him here on Friday afternoons after school. He’d spend the better part of the visit staring up at the stone buildings towering all around the circular courtyard, and how they bowed inward at the very top like an ocean wave preparing to crash upon the shore.

  “Look!” said Vinya, pointing to the middle of the courtyard. “An auction begins.”

  A rather bulbous man in purple robes stood atop a raised platform, his nose high, with a crowd of Eldanarian at his feet. Behind him sat a cage of sorts—well over ten feet tall and draped by a black shroud.

  “Ladies and oh-so-generous gents!” the man said, his belly jiggling about. “It is my greatest pleasure to introduce you to our first item of the day. He’s mean! He’s lean! He’s a wild-Lizarous-chasing, crop-guarding machine! Weighing in at a beautiful three tons, let’s give a round of applause for our Rhynodon of the West Plains!”

  The man tore the veil off the cage, and the crowd gasped at the behemoth that lay in wait within.

  “He wasn’t joking!” Vinya gasped, staring hard at the auction while gripping Ion’s wrist, which hurt.

  The animal stomped its four tree trunk-like legs and rattled the Forums. From out of its jaw grew four arced, hollow horns, which it used to emit a blood-curdling shriek.

  “Like a siren’s song, isn’t it?” laughed the purple-robed auctioneer. “The price begins at a thousand Cogs!”

  Farmers wearing straw hats and raggedy tunics immediately began raising their hands, the price rising with each palm that snapped above the crowd: a thousand Cogs, then a hundred Cretans, then ten Pennies. Pennies were Ion’s favorite, though they were so cherished he’d never gotten to actually touch one. Mother said American humans once used them to buy things, but after their empire had collapsed, they had no use for it. But Eldanarians loved copper, so they’d found a use in Protea as the most valuable piece of trade in the capital.

  Ion looked hesitantly over at Vinya. Her eyes hadn’t fallen on anything but the auction since it’d begun. “Something wrong?” he asked over the rising shouts of the auctioneer.

  For a moment, Vinya was silent. Then Ion saw how her teeth were grinding themselves together. “They’re selling my animals,” she growled. “Right in front of me.”

  “Surely you’ve seen an auction before?” asked Ion.

  “None as arrogant as this one,” she snapped. “Animals aren’t for purchase; just as humans shouldn’t be either. What, because they’re smaller their freedom suddenly becomes ours to control?”

  Ion swallowed as she continued to curse under her breath in a language he’d never heard before. It made sense that she’d be mad about watching the creatures she was meant to protect being sold like property, but he’d never seen her this mad.

  Ion stepped timidly away. “Right...well...I’m going to...I’m going to do something...over here...”

  Through the bustling crowd of Eldanarians, Ion caught sight of black robes hovering over a pair of golden sandals and painted blue toenails. As Oceanus watched the auction from behind the shadows of her hood, Ion approached, chewing on the inside of his mouth.

  “I think Vinya is having a breakdown,” he said, hoping Oceanus would at least respond.

  “Hmm,” said Oceanus. “Sounds familiar.”

  “Oh, come on,” he groaned. “You can’t honestly believe I meant to hurt Spike! I know I messed up, but you can’t be mad at me forever—two hours is the max.”

  “Two hours?” she sneered. “That’s hardly enough time!”

  “I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged.

  She scoffed at the comment and returned to watching the auction. “I’ve stopped being mad at you,” she said, “but only because we have a mission to complete.”

  “That’s fair. I’m fine with that,” Ion said, smiling and nodding excitedly. “But I just want to let you know that whatever happened the other day in the coliseum will not be happening again. I’ve promised myself, and Othum. And I’m pretty sure Solara would kill me, so there’s that, too.”

  “If she did then we wouldn’t have to worry about the whole banshee thing,” said Oceanus.

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “Oh, relax. Solara isn’t going to kill you—not if I’m around.” Her eyes went dark. “And as for the banshee, once she’s in my clutches I’m going to show her why no one throws couches at me and gets away with it.”

  Ion cocked an eyebrow. “Sure. But to be clear: we’re just going to ask questions.”

  Oceanus cleared her throat. “Of course, yes,” she said, nodding. “Questions—definitely.”

  Ion gazed out at the crowd growing around the auction. “So how are we going to do this?”

  “If music is what soothes the spirits, I’m guessing it attracts them, too.”

  “So, if we played the right tune...”

  “She’ll come straight to us.”

  “Tonight, then?”

  Oceanus nodded. “At ten. Meet me in the Great Room. I’ve scoped out the fortress and found a perfect spot to reel her in. Consider yourself lucky your sister cares so much about keeping you alive.”

  The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the Forums. “Sold! To the lanky, unhealthy-looking man in the blue tunic!”

  The Rhynodon rammed its horns against the bars of its cage, missing the back of the auctioneer by only an inch. It was then Ion noticed the figure heavy in black robes standing beside the cage. Even from where Ion stood, he could see the glint of menacing, green eyes through the shadow of the hood.

  Solara.

  “Why is she up there?” Oceanus asked.

  Before Ion could say a word, Solara swept her nails right through the padlock on the cage, and the lock—now in three pieces—fell to the floor in a flurry of heart-stopping clangs. Ion held his breath. The Rhynodon shrieked and thrashed its horned head. It smashed the gate open; the crowd screamed, darting in every which direction like a colony of terrified ants.

  The Rhynodon scooped the auctioneer into its tusks like a shovel, and with a heave, launched him through the window of a nearby glass-blowing shop.

  Ion stood frozen in his place.

  Oceanus grabbed him b
y the wrist. “Come on! We have to help do something!”

  Ion nodded, and together, they ran toward the Rhynodon. As the horrified screams came to a crescendo, the beast charged into a jewelry cart and showered the Forums in sparkling golds and glimmering silvers. With bracelets and necklaces flying through the air, the Rhynodon shrieked once more.

  Oceanus neared the angered creature and whipped a stream of water out of the air. With a whirl of her arms, the water quickly coiled around the Rhynodon, over and over again like the rings of a spring. She leaned backward, bringing her arms to her chest, and powerful cracks split through the courtyard air, the coils of water freezing in an instant and trapping the Rhynodon in place. The creature screamed and threw its head about, but it was no use.

  “Well, I guess you didn’t need help,” Ion shrugged.

  The Forums were empty now, save Ion, Oceanus, the tiring Rhynodon, and the goddess who’d freed it. Vinya was nowhere to be seen—probably herding the Eldanarians to safety.

  “Always ruining my fun,” Solara said, removing her hood and smiling in her usual poisonous way.

  “Your fun could have killed someone,” Oceanus growled.

  “No,” Solara gasped, her hand to her chest. “You really think so, Oceanus?” Her face fell, and she said, “I guess reading all those big, precious books of yours really have made you smarter.”

  “And what is that supposed to—”

  Suddenly, howls and screams ripped through the air, and a wall of fire encircled the courtyard, trapping the Guardians within. The Rhynodon squealed. Oceanus pulled Ion to her. Smoke rolled toward the skies, ashes intruding upon every breath Ion took. Heat pulsed against his skin—almost unbearably.

  “Who is behind this?” Solara screamed. “I demand you show yourself this instant!”

  He descended from the skies, fire licking off the tips of his small feet and his even smaller hands. The dwarf looked no more than twelve years old, and judging by his raggedy, blond hair, he hadn’t seen a comb for five of them.

  He landed gracefully beside Ion, and the fires streaming off his fingers and toes went out with a hiss. He turned on his heel, looked up at Ion with great, big, blue eyes and held out his hand.

  “I’m Theo,” he said, smiling, which seemed so inappropriate what with inferno still roaring all around them. “Or Theodore Price if you’re my mother, which you’re not, especially with that weird-looking jaw”—he eyed Ion suspiciously—“unless you’re one of those shape shifting rats I’ve heard about.”

  Ion nervously shook Theo’s hand. “I’m Ionikus, Ionikus Reaves.”

  Theo shook with a playful viciousness, and Solara’s voice cracked over the courtyard again. “Stop talking! If you’re behind these stupid flames, Theodore Price, you’d better calm them now, or face the wrath of a Guardian!”

  Theodore twisted his mouth to one side of his face and said, “Hmmm...I think I’ll pass. You’re not the only one with a wrath, especially after what you pulled with us last week.”

  Ion and Oceanus traded uncertain glances. And by the gnarled look on Solara’s face, she didn’t seem to know what Theo was talking about either.

  With a concussive boom Solara was flung away from the cage, landing with a sickening thud on the stone at Ion’s feet.

  Ion and Oceanus traded more uncertain glances, and by a sudden force no one could see, Solara rose from the floor, her hands held behind her back as though the air itself was restraining her.

  “Put me down!” she demanded, her legs thrashing about where her arms could not. “Oceanus, Ion—help your fellow Guardian?” Her face was pleading and pathetic. “For the good of the Balance?”

  Ion raised an eyebrow. Oceanus crossed her arms over her chest.

  A girl’s voice resounded through the courtyard. “Burned a few more bridges, haven’t we, Solara?”

  The wall of flames died, bending and swaying until all that remained was a ring of smoke and ash around the courtyard. Ion looked to his left, then to his right, and there she was: a girl with long, pointed ears, thin, sharp eyes, a bald head, and skin a faded pink. She was an elf, but the tunic she wore was so raggedy Ion thought her ears had to have been a mutation—elves never wore less than their best. It was almost a rule.

  The elf girl approached with confidence and pursed lips. When she came into Solara’s view, the Guardian jolted in the air—a shock of fear.

  “You?” Solara sneered. “I should’ve known you were behind this after that dwarf and his pathetic fire show!”

  “You didn’t think my fire was pathetic when you needed me to burn down that house!” said Theo.

  “Anyone with a box of matches could have done that,” Solara said. “It’s your elf friend and her intelligence that I really needed—you were just a bonus.”

  The elf opened her mouth to snap at Solara, but Oceanus raised her voice first. “Excuse me!” she said, and all eyes fell on her. “Can someone please tell me what in the name of Illyria is going on here?”

  “Solara promised us twenty Cogs if we’d do a bit of her dirty work,” replied the elf. “We made it look like that ugly little man tried to burn down his own house, just as she asked,”—the girl looked back at Solara and bared her teeth—“but we have yet to receive our payment.”

  “Now you have minions?” Oceanus asked Solara. “What’s next? A secret lair where you plot world domination?”

  Solara scoffed. “It was just a bit of framing to get that miserable Dread and his fiancée out of my way.”

  Ion’s mouth fell open. “Dread? Like...Sir Dread?”

  “Like your master Dread,” said Solara. “Now he lives a comfortable life in Protea’s mental ward. It’s quite nice there actually; he’s got his own straight jacket and everything. He even has a room right next to his dearest Nexus—”

  Solara started choking on her own words, as a noose Ion couldn’t see tightened around her throat. But he looked harder and the space just beneath Solara’s jaw seemed disturbed, like waves of summer heat.

  “But we are the ones who made it happen,” growled the elf.

  “And who exactly are you?” Ion asked.

  “My name is Lillian Monroe,” said the elf. “Might I ask you the same question?”

  “I”—Ion looked over at Oceanus, not sure if he should say it—“we’re also Guardians.”

  “Yes,” said Oceanus, “and as such, we must ask that you now put down our teammate.”

  The elf stared suspiciously at Oceanus, and then her eyes fell on Ion. She dissected his every feature, lingering on his jaw. “Guardians, huh?” She snapped her fingers, and the energy around Solara’s neck and wrists vanished in an instant, dropping Solara to the floor.

  “How do you do that?” Oceanus asked.

  “With my mind, how else?” replied Lillian.

  “And it’s a powerful mind you have,” came Vinya’s voice.

  A mass of black robes rose from the floor beside Ion, and there stood the goddess, as tall as ever. She lowered her hood, and with the reveal of her radiant smile and shimmering black hair, Lillian and Theo knelt reverently.

  “Vinya!” they gasped, refusing to look upon her face.

  “Oh, stop it,” Vinya said, shooing them to their feet. She grabbed hold of their shoulders and beamed. “It should be I kneeling before you.”

  Theo and Lillian shared confused looks. Ion was just as lost.

  “G-goddess?” asked Lillian, seeming thankful yet unworthy. “This is—this is informal. Theo and I—we’re—we’re only pickpockets.”

  “No one is only one thing, my dear,” said Vinya, nestling her thumb beneath Lillian’s chin.

  Solara had been fuming all the while, looking completely appalled with her mouth propped open. “Why is this happening right now?” she snapped at Vinya. “These two should be in cuffs and chains! They attacked a Guardian!”

  “You are in no position to be ordering punishments,” Vinya said. “It’ll be a month of washing the floors of the Mirrored Hall for
you...if the Skylord is in a forgiving mood.”

  She looked back down at Lillian and Theo, and her smile returned. “Now, I don’t think I’ve properly introduced you yet.” She turned to Ion and Oceanus, and ushering Lillian and Theo forward, said, “Guardians, meet the Guardians.”

  Ion’s eyes went wide and he couldn’t help but smile.

  “Really?” asked Oceanus.

  “Seriously?” asked Ion.

  “There’s no way!” Solara screamed in the background. “They are not Guardians, Vinya! I will not—”

  “Enough from you!” Vinya thundered without looking back at Solara. “Lillian and Theo, here, are the missing links to the puzzle.” She smiled down at Lillian, “Our Blood Guardian,” and then she beamed down upon Theo, “and our Sun Guardian. The team is finally complete!”

  Ion opened his mouth to say something—anything—so as to not look like a speechless buffoon. But nothing came. No words, at least. He definitely squeaked on accident.

  “I-I apologize,” Lillian spoke, “but…w-what are you talking about, Lady Vinya?”

  Lillian and Theo listened, as Vinya told them everything, from the reincarnation of the Guardians to the Achaean Academy and the world that lies in wait beyond the streets of Protea. And when she was done, Theo’s eyes were so large he looked like one of the bush babies Oceanus had talked about.

  “I don’t know,” said Lillian. “This is pretty sudden...and strange.”

  “And so is the beauty of life,” said Vinya.

  Lillian paused, watching Solara.

  “What are you staring at, elf?” Solara growled.

  A mischievous smile crept across Lillian’s face. “So we’ll be living in close quarters with her? If we agree to join?”

  “Yes, my dear,” Vinya replied. “But if ever you feel uncomfortable—”

  “Where do we sign?” Lillian asked, still fixed on Solara, who was now red as fire.

  “Oh, how exciting this is!” said Vinya, her hands clasped together. “You’re going to have so much fun on the Acropolis! There’s all the sweets you can eat, and—”

  As Vinya rambled on, Oceanus leaned over to Ion. “What did I tell you about Guardians?” she said. “They find us.”