Another hour of what seemed like never-ending ocean went by when Arie smiled and said: I’ve got it, everyone. I’ve got it!
So then tell us, lad. Don’t make me wait. Agmunsten looked across the expanse of air between the dragons and made eye contact with Arie.
I’m going to weave the power into stretchy ropes and wrap it around our legs and waists and around Zim. Then we shouldn’t fall off.
That sounds rather convoluted. If it doesn’t work, you’re going to use a Third Realm of a lot of energy, which you’ll need later. You might end up falling asleep when you’re supposed to be holding on.
What do you suggest, smarty-pants Head Realmist? Arie let sarcasm color his voice.
I’m suggesting you save your energy and stop talking nonsense.
Since when did you become a naysayer, Agmunsten? When I was at the academy, you were all for trying new things. Sounds like someone got old while they were away. Astra teased.
Warrimonious cut in. Ahem, realmists, while you were arguing, it seems as if a bit of luck has come our way. There’s a large ship down there. It looks big enough for us, if we take turns of being onboard. What do you think?
How fortuitous, said Agmunsten. Are you sure you could land without becoming tangled in the rigging? And who would have a ship out this far? The Zamahlans wouldn’t have patrols this close to the mainland, would they, Astra?
Astra pouted while she thought. It’s possible, but highly unlikely. Maybe they’re pirates?
It’s too risky, said Zim. We’ve got enough to contend with, without bungling into a ship full of bloodthirsty thieves.
To add to his aching arms and shoulders, Arie’s neck started to spasm. “Ouch. I can’t hold on for much longer. What are you worried about, anyway? You’re a freaking dragon! You can set people on fire with one breath. No one’s going to mess with us. Please? Just for ten minutes, so I can stretch out, go to the bathroom and eat. I’m desperate.
Arcon looked across at Zim and nodded. Are you sure? The dragon asked.
Yes. I don’t think Gabrielle would forgive me if I let Arie fall to his death. Arie’s right: we don’t want to kill anyone, but if it comes to that, we are the superior force. You land, and we’ll stay in the air. If it goes off without a hitch, after you take off, we’ll land. I could do with a bathroom break.
Okay, but just remember it was you who gave permission. I’m not taking the blame if it all goes to the Third Realm.
Yippee! Arie shouted, and Astra laughed.
The dragons glided in wide arcs as they descended, Zim flying faster than Warrimonious, who stayed higher and kept watch. Arcon was poised to grab Second-Realm power if the need arose. As they neared the ship, Arie smelled the fresh brackishness of the ocean, and he could make out the crew on deck staring and pointing. When they were fifty feet from the ship, a few of the men ran below deck, scurrying like mice before a cook with a broom.
Arie gripped tight, anticipating the jolt as Zim landed on the hard deck. Astra’s chin knocked into the back of Arie’s head. “Ow!”
“Sorry, Arie. Are you okay?” Astra asked, rubbing her chin.
“Yeah, I’ll live. Are you all right?”
“Yes. I still have all my teeth, so it’s all good.”
After recovering, Arie noticed the sailors that surrounded them. Some were shirtless with tanned skin; some wore black vests over fraying white shirts sullied with stains. Their loose pants ended just below the knee. Some wore fresher-looking clothes: shirts without wrinkles or loose threads, hemmed pants and clean vests. Arie had never seen so much variation in facial hair, from neatly trimmed goatee-style to bushy-vagrant that reached to one man’s belly button. After performing a quick head count, he estimated at least half of them held daggers or cutlasses at the ready. He knew pirates when he saw them and wasted no time in drawing Second-Realm power.
Zim kept his wings half outstretched in an attempt to appear more menacing. He would have stretched them out fully, but the mast was in the way. It didn’t prevent one of the sailors from approaching them, though. Stopping directly in front of Zim, he stared into the dragon’s eyes with the one eye that wasn’t covered by his black patch.
The man, who Arie assumed was the captain, had an orange-colored beard that finished just below his chin, cut straight across, like the fringing that decorated the ends of his mother’s curtains. Flame-red dreadlocks sat like unused rope on his shoulders. His lips curled up in a sneer before he spoke. “What do ye be doing here?”
Arie added, Me hearties, in his mind. He knew he should be scared, but he was trying not to laugh. All pirates spoke the same language. Arie made a mental note to ask Agmunsten why that was.
Zim finally answered. “We needed a place to rest. I hope you don’t mind. My name is Zimapholous Accorterroza. On my back are Arie and Astra. And you are Captain…?”
“My sailors call me Captain Death. Now ye have rested, be gone.”
“But I need to eat! We just need a few minutes, please?” Arie knew he should be quiet, but he couldn’t help himself.
“And what do we have here, aye?” The captain strode around the deck to look up at Arie with his uncovered eye.
“Just a small boy who needs to eat and pee,” said Arie.
“Well, we don’t want small boys aboard. Nasty things can happen to them; don’t ye know.”
Zim curled his neck around to hover his head over the captain. It seemed like being polite was not going to help them. The dragon opened his mouth and shot out just enough flame to singe the base of the mast.
The captain jumped around at the flash of flame. “Are ye mad? You’ll burn the ship to the waterline and kill us all. Get off my ship, now!” He gestured with his cutlass, swinging it about before pointing it at the new arrivals. “Lads, attack!”
The horde of sailors warily closed in on them, hands tensely gripping weapons honed to razor-sharp perfection. Zim quickly spoke into Arie and Astra’s minds. I can’t take off quickly. We’re going to have to use the power to kill them.
Arie tried to fight the feeling of panic that rose in his chest. What? We can’t just kill all of them, can we? Isn’t that bad?
Zim’s right, Arie. We don’t have a choice. Obviously, we’ll only kill as many of them as we need to. But we’re sorely outnumbered. If we don’t act now, we’ll be overcome. Astra drew Second-Realm power and hit three of the approaching men with what looked to Arie like a fork of red lightning. The crack of the impact made Arie’s ears ring, and the three men dropped to the ground, black holes in their clothes where the strike had passed through their chests.
The captain didn’t spare a glance to see what had happened to his crew. Instead, he growled and rushed forward, sword held high.
Heartened by the captain’s charge, the remaining sailors pushed forward. Zim turned his head from one side to the other, breathing fire. Accompanying the sailor’s screams was the stench of burning skin and smoke. Even though Zim had killed a few men, others advanced, a swarm now spewing from below decks.
Arie flinched when the tip of a cutlass stirred the hair on his arms as Zim stepped sideways just in time. Shaken out of complacency, Arie reached into the starry realm and siphoned as much energy as he could handle. His palms tingled and warmed as he held them toward the attacking pirates. Not wanting to see men die by his own hand, he shut his eyes and started firing indiscriminately.
Arie chanted to himself as blood vibrated and heated in his veins: Go away. Go away. Disappear.
Zim continued to breathe fire and Astra sent lightning strikes into the men who slashed from the other side of Zim. If Zim hadn’t already had his mouth open, his jaw would have dropped like a stone. He watched silver beams shoot from Arie’s palms. Whatever the beams touched disappeared leaving no trace, as if they had never existed. Parts of the men popped away, leaving three men with spaces where their stomachs should have been and two without groins or thighs. Their screaming remained for a few seconds.
Arie swung his arms
to the right and up, taking away a man’s head before the bright beam reached the mast, the base of it vanishing. Zim yelled into Arie’s mind. Stop! Stop! Arie, no. But it was too late. Sound died. Everything stilled. All eyes stared at the heavy mast, waiting to see which way it would fall.
Sensing the strained silence, Arie stopped channeling and opened his eyes. “What the…? Did I do that?”
“Yes,” Zim answered, not taking his eyes from the great trunk.
As the mast started to fall, away from them, sending sailors scattering, Arie jumped from Zim’s back, climbed the railing and launched himself into the sea.
“Arie!” Astra jumped off Zim’s back, simultaneously drawing her dagger to stab a distracted sailor in the neck. Pushing him out of the way, she ran to the railing and looked overboard. Frantically scanning the water, her heart racing, she finally spied Arie, who waved.
“Are you okay?” she yelled to the boy whose face had a relaxed expression of contentment.
“I’m fine,” Arie called back. “I just had to go before I wet myself. The whole fight thing wasted a lot of time.”
Astra stared, her mouth open.
“Well, I did say I was busting.” Arie shrugged as he bobbed in the sea.
Astra shook her head and sent her thoughts to Agmunsten, who was circling above on Warrimonious. Can you keep an eye on that child? I have to go help Zim clean up.
Agmunsten chuckled. Will do.
Thanks. Astra turned and took stock. Zim stood tall, his black scales tarnished with soot and ash from the cremated crew, his shadow darkening the reddened deck. Scores of dead bodies littered the vessel, the captain’s among them, their heads lolling this way and that with the motion of the ship bobbing on the waves. The few living sailors knelt in front of the dragon, heads bowed in defeat.
“I’ll check below decks, to make sure we’re not missing anyone.” Astra strode past Zim, dagger held in front.
Why don’t you come down here, Warrimonious, Zim sent. There’s room now. We’ll eat and continue on.
Okay. Coming down.
Astra emerged from the hold dragging two cowering sailors. She dumped them with the group huddled in front of Zim. “That’s the last of them. Now what?”
“Eat, stretch, and do whatever else you need to, and we’ll take off in fifteen minutes.” Zim stretched his wings over the space that the mast previously occupied.
“But what about them?” Astra jerked her head toward the sailors. “They’ve only got one mast left. Is it enough for them to sail on and reach land?”
“Should be, but do we really care? Pirates are the worst type of scum, and I have better things to worry about.” Zim stopped speaking as Warrimonious landed on the deck, a rush of air blowing Astra’s fringe from her face.
“So, I see you’ve been busy.” Agmunsten hopped off the dragon and put his hands on his hips.
Zim grinned. “Yes. We have to talk. It seems as if Arie has discovered the forbidden art of making things disappear.”
Agmunsten blinked then looked down at one of the bodies—the one without its head caught his attention. He approached it and crouched for a closer look. “Fascinating.” He picked up a nearby cutlass and prodded the neck before standing and throwing the cutlass to the deck. “It shouldn’t be possible, of course, especially for one of his little experience, but…. I’ll have the talk with him when we’re back in the air. Now, where’s the bathroom?”
“Glad to see you have your priorities straight.” Astra laughed and reached into one of the packs secured to Zim’s back. She pulled out an apple and a chunk of cheese, sat and ate.
A faint cry reached them. “Hey. Hey! Isn’t anyone going to help me up. I’m hungry.”
“And that would be Arie,” Zim grumbled. “Someone throw him a rope.”
“I’m eating,” Astra mumbled through a mouthful of cheese.
“I just got here. I need to stretch my wings.” Warrimonious unfolded his wings, letting them reach from portside to starboard.
Zim let out a gush of flame in frustration. He bent and retrieved a rope. “I hope you know how to climb, Arie,” he called as he lowered it over the side to the grinning boy below.
By the time Arie scrambled over the railing, Agmunsten had appeared. When he sighted the boy, he stopped, his eyes calculating. A hint of anger rippled over his expression before he took a deliberate breath and walked to his protégé. “We’ll discuss this in more detail later, but don’t you ever, ever, ever make anything disappear again.” He craned his neck to stare forcefully into Arie’s eyes. “Am I understood?”
Arie, usually one to make a joke out of everything, swallowed his response and nodded, his eyes solemn for the first time that Agmunsten had ever seen. The three other realmists ate in silence, watching the exchange from the corner of their eyes.
“Now eat and we’ll be on our way.” Agmunsten stomped to Warrimonious, grabbed two pancakes out of the pack and ate his meal while sitting on the fallen mast. Biting a chunk from the round snack, he hoped no one noticed his shaking hands.
Chapter 6
One could almost smell the fear and excitement in the air of Klendar, the capital city of Inkra. The Inkrans were ready to wage war against the rest of Talia, at the demand of their new king.
Clothed in matching, red, shimmering attire, King Leon and Queen Tusklar stood next to each other in front of a small crowd. Leon ran his finger along the fabric of his sleeve, enjoying the feel of the cool, smooth material—it was how he imagined caressing a snake would feel. Taking his wife’s hand, his gaze slowly scanned the circular room. Fixing a smirk to his face, he pushed away his annoyance at having been shunned by Kerchex—the gormon had refused to watch the proceedings. Jealous, no doubt, thought Leon.
Assembled dignitaries of Inkran society—his two generals, captains of the guard who were proficient at torturing innocent members of the population, heads of ruling factions who had supported Tusklar in her ascendency to the throne—stood entranced and more than a little nervous, dark sweat patches on the underarms of their gray clothes giving them away.
Leon had gathered them in the ruined top-floor chamber where he had originally become part of Kwaad. The shattered roof glass had been cleaned from the floor but had not been replaced. Summer approached, and the warm night air eddying around the room brought with it sweet fragrances and moon beetles, their glowing bodies flashing on and off, on and off. It reminded him of a party he and Edmund had attended as youngsters, before his parents had favored his brother over him—before they had stopped loving Leon. Swathes of colored fabric had flowed from the topiary trees in the garden adjoining Bayerlon’s ballroom. The soft edges of the material had waved intermittently in the faltering evening breeze. Moon beetles had clung to the fabric with small claws, flashing their festive lights upon the bright decorations, enchanting the young boy who was about to learn what it felt like to be unwanted, unimportant. And it was all Edmund’s fault. If his brother didn’t like what Leon had become, he had no one to blame but himself. Leon shook his head, purging the last truly pleasant memory he had of his childhood.
One by one, Leon looked into each person’s eyes. Satisfaction flowed through him as they diverted their gazes to the floor—acknowledgement, confirmation that he was their superior. They would see the truth of that in a few minutes when they watched as he and Tusklar transformed with High Priest Zuk and changed into Kwaad. If there were any who doubted his right to rule, he intended to squash their dissent now, before they marched on Bayerlon. In the few weeks since the gormons had arrived, much had been achieved. The soldiers were already on the way to his brother’s city, and one of the gormons who had come through the portal had been dispatched to Zamahl.
His voice firm, commanding, Leon said, “Adzes. We will begin.” He felt Tusklar squeeze his hand as Adzes, the realmist who replaced the unfortunate Orphael, approached the marble table that had survived the night of the first transformation. The rust-colored tabletop mimicked the shade of dri
ed blood—convenient since blood was likely to be spilled during the ceremony.
The king and queen stood side-on to the crowd as they took their places at either end of the table, facing each other. Leon rolled his sleeve to his elbow and smiled to see the scar on his wrist from the last time he melded into Kwaad. The realmist would follow that contour with the edge of a knife, spilling Leon’s blood into the small dish on the table, beginning the painful yet exhilarating metamorphosis.
Tusklar and Leon held their wrists over the bowl as Adzes chanted, his voice rising and falling with each guttural word. When Adzes sliced Leon’s wrist, the king shut his eyes and breathed in the sting; ecstasy, rather than pain, radiated from his features. Adzes slid the tip of the dagger across Tusklar’s wrist, and her blood mingled with her husband’s. She licked her bottom lip as the warm fluid dripped into the vessel.
The chanting gathered intensity while Adzes lifted the bowl from the table. He held it above his head—a performance for the crowd or necessary for the ceremony? Leon didn’t know. Walking to the fire in the chipped hearth, his voice rose to a fervid crescendo. He threw the small dish into the flames with a final cry. Bright orange flared, and sparks shot from the fireplace, alighting on his black robe. He was quick to slap at the embers with frantic palms.
But Leon didn’t notice. His cells were being torn apart. The pain didn’t last long, and he thanked the gods that his nerves were disassembled quickly. But the torture started again as his body joined with Tusklar and Kwaad’s. He wondered where Kwaad’s body came from, since he didn’t exist in the First Realm—he only appeared when joined with Leon and Tusklar.
I am everywhere, Talian. You would not understand the principles. Are we ready?
Yes, master. Leon knew Kwaad needed him, for now, so he bowed and scraped, obeyed, biding his time.
Tusklar’s mind-voice sounded breathy, awed. Master, I am glad to be with you again. May we fly?
Hello, my favorite queen. Just a moment. Kwaad’s voice boomed throughout the room, sending the crowd to their trembling knees. “Servants of the gormon cause, you will hold this city until we return. Any who displease us will be fed to my brethren. In fact, I’m rather hungry—attaining this form takes much energy. Who will volunteer to serve the cause?” Kwaad turned its head and smelled the fear that saturated the air, smothering the summer floral aroma. An escaped sob, out before its female owner had time to cover her mouth, drew Kwaad’s attention.
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