by Aaron Ehasz
Rayla knew she could have taken any one or three or even five of the soldiers no problem. But ten or twelve, with more coming every moment? It was just too many. And she was already tired. She got to her feet and pulled up her blades.
This is it. I’m going down fighting.
Callum was sketching intensely outside the mountain cave. He was drawing a picture of Rayla—a powerful, heroic figure. He still couldn’t believe she had left. His palms were sweating and his chest felt tight. What if she didn’t come back? Could he and Ezran and Bait really manage to get Zym to Xadia?
“What are you doing?” Ezran asked, leaning over his shoulder.
“I’m just drawing,” he said. Callum didn’t want to be rude, but Ezran was annoying him.
“You seem upset,” Ezran said.
“Yep. I draw when I’m upset,” Callum replied. He didn’t need Ezran hovering over him, stating the obvious.
Callum gritted his teeth, and his pencil snapped. His sketchbook slipped off his lap. When it landed, it fell open to another page. Callum found himself staring at a sketch of Claudia in the Moon Temple, holding her dark magic spell book. All the feelings from that night came rushing back to him—Claudia’s beauty, her love of ancient ruins, and her honesty about his father’s death. Then he remembered her betrayal. The way Claudia used dark magic to try to capture him and Ezran and Zym.
For a moment, fury seized Callum. He was about to tear the drawing in half when he had an idea. He traced his finger over the outline of Claudia’s dark magic spell book. Maybe … He scooped up the sketchbook and slammed it shut.
“Maybe there is something I can do,” Callum said. “Ezran, you stay here. Protect Bait and Zym. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon—with Rayla.”
The forest was a big blur of green and brown to Callum as he raced toward the dragon. Thoughts whirred through his mind. Could he really bring himself to go through with his plan? What if he didn’t succeed? What if he compromised his beliefs and it ended up being all for nothing?
Callum reached the crash site in time to see Rayla fighting Soren with one blade while fending off several soldiers with the other. He ducked behind a bush. Claudia was there—she was standing away from the dragon, her back to Callum. Claudia’s white horse stood between them, tied to a tree. Her magic satchel lay near the horse’s front hooves.
Callum stayed hidden, still torn over what he should do.
As the fight continued, Rayla became increasingly outnumbered. She jumped onto the dragon’s back and climbed to where two chains intersected to pin the dragon down. She was surrounded, but it looked like she might free the dragon. Callum watched as Rayla swung at the chains, but her blade bounced off with a clang, sparks flying. She reeled back and tried again. Nothing happened. She was in trouble. Callum inched toward Claudia’s horse.
Rayla was breathing hard, and Callum could tell she was exhausted. Her eyes darted around looking for an escape.
“Oh no.” Callum gulped when he saw Claudia approaching Rayla and the dragon.
“I’m not backing down,” Rayla shouted.
“Try not to kill her, Soren,” Claudia said. “She can lead us to Ezran and Callum.”
I think that’s my cue. Callum was out of time. He sprinted to the tree behind Claudia and grabbed her bag. There it was. The dark magic spell book. Callum flipped through the book as fast as he could.
“She doesn’t have to lead you anywhere, Claudia,” Callum said. “I’m right here.”
Claudia turned around, and for a second, Callum thought she looked genuinely pleased to see him.
“Callum,” she said. “You’re safe.” She started to walk toward him.
But Callum wasn’t going to be fooled by her again. He’d found a spell that would do the trick. Maybe it wasn’t the best spell out there, but that didn’t matter. Callum clenched his hand around an embalmed snake’s rattle he’d grabbed from Claudia’s satchel.
“What are you doing?” Claudia asked. She froze.
“Your kind of magic,” Callum said softly.
Claudia approached Callum slowly, with her hands up. “You don’t want to do this, Callum. It’s really dangerous unless someone shows you how.”
“You already did,” Callum said as he crushed the rattle and chanted: “Dnibnu leets gnirehtils.”
Callum felt an immediate jolt through his body. His stomach surged up into his throat, and for a moment, he thought he was going to vomit. But the nausea passed, and a tingling sensation spread from Callum’s gut up through his chest and arms and head. The world around him melted into a dizzying array of colors. Though he could see Rayla, Soren, and Claudia staring at him, they seemed like paper-thin figments of his imagination.
Callum watched with wonder as purple streaks of energy arced from his fingertips directly toward the chains that bound the dragon. The creature would be free in moments. Callum’s heart thumped with the power of the magic flowing through him.
Callum had reversed the spell Claudia used on him (or thought she had) up on the Cursed Caldera. The spell transformed the links of the giant chain into snakes. Within seconds, the snakes slithered off the dragon and attacked the surrounding soldiers.
The dragon and Rayla were free! Callum had done it!
But the dark magic energy evaporated almost immediately. His heartbeat slowed down, and his glowing vision faded. Where moments before he felt filled with magical energy, he suddenly felt empty and hollow inside. His arms and legs felt … unmanageable. They were like long strands of spaghetti attached to his torso.
Callum swayed and stumbled and then fell backward. His eyes felt like someone was poking hot sticks into them. I should probably rest my eyes, Callum thought. Just for a moment.
Soren watched the step-prince transform the chains into snakes. Wow, he thought. Callum can actually do magic. Too bad his little stunt wasn’t going to save the dragon or the elf.
“Congratulations!” he yelled. “That was impressive. Really. You did everything you could to save a monster that torched a town of innocent people.”
But Callum didn’t respond. He wasn’t looking so good—lying there on the ground with that creepy dark magic stare in his eyes.
Soren turned to the dragon, which wasn’t moving even though she was free. So she actually was dead after all.
“Come on, come on, get up! You’re free!” the elf yelled. She was pounding her fists on the dragon, but it still didn’t budge.
Soren walked toward Rayla, smiling. It had started to rain—pour actually—but Soren didn’t care. He was going to have a little fun with the elf. “Your dead dragon is free,” he yelled.
“Wow. That dragon is so super dead,” he continued as he walked closer and closer.
Why was the elf looking at him like that? Soren looked down at the dragon just in time to see one of the dragon’s yellow eyes blink open. An instant later, the dragon pushed herself up to her full height.
“Run!” Soren shouted to Claudia.
Claudia and the soldiers scattered to safety, but Soren stayed put. He had stood up to this dragon only hours before and brought her down. He would do it again.
Soren flinched a little at the dragon’s red leather scales, her hot fiery breath, and huge quivering nostrils, but he knew he would face her. The dragon made eye contact with Soren and trampled toward him with bared teeth. Soren bared his own teeth and drew his sword. Then he let out a battle cry and lunged at the dragon, swinging his sword at her neck.
Much to Soren’s surprise, the sword made contact. It hit the dragon’s horn and chipped a piece off. The dragon roared in fury, lunging and snapping at Soren. Soren dodged once, smirking. He was smaller, but all he had to do was win one small exchange at a time, literally chipping away at the dragon.
But it was all over before the next exchange even began. Before Soren realized what was happening, the dragon swung her massive tail, slamming into him and sending him flying. He smashed into a boulder with a crunching sound and slid to the ground.
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When Soren opened his eyes, he was on his back, looking up at the dark gray sky. Rain poured down on his face and into his open mouth. He tried to roll away from the downpour, but something was wrong. His body didn’t seem to be listening to his brain. Maybe he was pinned down beneath something?
He went to wipe the water out of his eyes to get a better look, but when he tried to move his hand to his face, nothing happened. Then he saw the dragon. She was coming right at him.
Soren opened his mouth to scream—he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. These moments, his last few on earth, belonged to him, and he was going to spend them screaming as loudly as his lungs would allow.
Then the most unexpected thing happened. The dragon stopped in her tracks and turned away from Soren. Soren struggled to crane his neck to see what had distracted the dragon.
It was that little dragon puppy! Zym! He was standing at the big dragon’s feet, looking up at her. Soren had never been so happy to see a baby anything in his life. The enormous dragon seemed totally mesmerized by Zym. She stood still, the flames she’d intended for Soren still burning in her mouth.
Zym shrank down to the dirt with his ears pinned back.
“Zym!” called Ezran.
What was the crown runt doing here? Soren watched from the ground as the young prince came running into the clearing and wrapped his arms around the baby dragon.
The huge dragon just stared. Then she beat her wings, kicked up a cloud of dust, and took off into the sky.
I’m saved, Soren thought. Time to get up. Soren tried to roll onto his side once more, but once again, nothing happened. Then he tried to lift his feet, but they didn’t respond to his commands either. He tried reaching for his sword—still nothing.
Finally, he managed to lift up his head. There was his sister. Claudia was running after Ezran and Zym. It looked like she was going to capture them. Soren didn’t care. He needed her.
“Claudia,” he tried to yell, but his voice was weak and it came out as a whisper.
Claudia didn’t seem to hear him. She reached her hand out toward the baby dragon, and her snake bracelet started to glow.
“That little dragon’s coming with me,” she said as she marched toward Ezran.
“Help,” Soren gasped.
“Leets gnirehtils …” Claudia started to chant.
Soren closed his eyes and gathered as much oxygen as he could into his lungs. “CLAUDIA! Help me!” he screamed.
Claudia halted. Her gaze turned to Soren—finally. Her eyes faded back to normal, and she rushed to his side.
“Soren! I’m here,” Claudia said, kneeling beside him.
Soren turned his eyes to look at Claudia, but he didn’t have the energy to say anything else.
“Come on, get up. We have to get you some help,” she said.
Soren just shook his head.
Hours later, the doorknob in the mirror room finally turned, and the mysterious mage entered the parlor. Viren stood at attention, but it took a moment for the figure to notice him. He squinted and approached the mirror.
Viren lifted the dagger in response. “I am ready,” he said. But he thought, I am desperate.
The stranger smiled faintly and bowed to Viren from his waist. Together, they resumed the spell. Viren held the dagger with one hand, the other hand clenched in a fist. With a quick, sure hand he pricked himself and let his blood drip slowly into the geode. Initially it appeared as if the droplets were falling into a pool of sparkling, magical energy. Soon the sparkling magic and blood appeared to swirl and spiral within the geode. When it finished, there was a strange sparkling blood mixture. He wondered if he was supposed to drink it?
Viren lifted the geode toward his lips as if to ask the figure in the mirror, but the mage on the other side shook his head. Then Viren watched in astonishment as the mage lifted his own geode to his own mouth. As he drank, the liquid within Viren’s geode disappeared. The mage closed his eyes and smiled with a satisfied look on his face. Viren waited seconds, maybe minutes, as the figure on the other side remained still.
Then Viren noticed the mage was struggling with something in his mouth. Whatever was in there was squirming and writhing. Viren stepped back from the mirror as the mage allowed his lips to part in a round O. A large, purple caterpillar dropped from his tongue into his geode. The caterpillar crawled in circles around the geode’s edge, slowly disappearing into a magical haze at the bottom. Moments later, what appeared to be the same caterpillar crawled out of the geode on Viren’s side of the mirror.
Viren stood perfectly still, his breath tight and controlled. He would betray no fear. The caterpillar crawled up his arm, onto his shoulder, and then onto his neck. Viren felt himself flinch, but remained as still as possible. Finally, the caterpillar nestled behind his ear. Its tiny legs scraped along Viren’s scalp and caused terrible itching. It took tremendous willpower for Viren not to rip it out. Then Viren felt a warm breath on his neck and heard a gentle whisper:
“Speak.”
Viren whipped his head around—he’d heard the voice clearly, but he couldn’t place its source. He looked back and forth around the chamber.
“Wh-wh … I …” he started to say.
The caterpillar’s tiny legs curled and clutched at Viren’s ear. The voice came again, more urgently, almost pleading:
“Speak, so I may hear you,” the voice said.
Viren realized that the voice in his ear, the one coming from the caterpillar, belonged to the Mirror Mage. The caterpillar wrapped around his ear acted as a conduit to the world in the mirror.
“Who are you?” Viren asked.
“Ahh. So long have I waited for the sound of another voice,” he said. “But my name would mean nothing to you.”
Viren scowled. He was never one to appreciate a cryptic response.
“Well, then, tell me: Where are you?” he asked.
The Mirror Mage seemed to consider the question. He looked around for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Don’t lie to me,” Viren said.
“I’m not lying. I never lie,” the mage said.
Nobody “never” lies, Viren thought. He began to pace. This mage could not be trusted. Perhaps if he offered information, he would receive some in return. “I found this mirror in the lair of the Dragon King,” he said. “This mirror meant something to him—you meant something to him.”
“Perhaps,” the mage said. “Tell me what you need, and I will help you.”
“I need your name,” Viren said.
The elf in the mirror pulled the hood of his cloak from his head, revealing his white hair and horns. Astral tattoos sparkled all over his face. He looked Viren in the eye and spoke slowly in a deep voice: “Aaravos. My name is Aaravos. Now, how may I serve you?”
This response satisfied Viren for the time being. He grabbed a nearby glass jar and pulled on the caterpillar. It detached from his ear with a loud thuck as the suction released. Viren dropped the creature into the jar and sealed it inside. He would return to it later.
The rain poured down in thickets as Rayla and Ezran ushered the weakened Callum back to the camp in the mountain cave. Zym scrambled ahead, leading the way.
Rayla wasn’t surprised to see that dark magic had made Callum ill. Blackish rings circled his eyes, and he was speaking incoherently. He stumbled as he walked, but Rayla and Ezran held him up as best they could.
“Come on, Callum,” Rayla said. “We’ve gotta keep moving—we’re so close to the border.” She was so mad at this stupid idiot for using dark magic. It was just fine with her if he suffered for the rest of their journey. She had no plan to slow their pace. “We could be in Xadia in just a few hours,” she added.
“I know we’re close, Rayla,” Ezran said, “but Callum’s not doing well.”
Obviously, Callum was not doing well. He was putting most of his weight on Rayla as they trudged up the mountain. But Rayla wasn’t about to sacrifice the mission. “Well, that’s his own faul
t for messing with dark magic,” she said. But a pang of guilt struck Rayla as soon as she uttered the words. She was worried about the stupid idiot.
“Yes, you’re right, you’re so right,” Callum said in a singsong voice. He staggered as he spoke. “Right as … rain! And this rain is just a big, wet … rain blanket. We must move onward.”
But as he tried to raise a finger and urge everyone onward, Callum tripped and fell in the mud. Rayla pulled him up.
“I’m okay,” Callum said, brushing Rayla off. “I just need to rest my eyes while we walk.” Callum closed his eyes and smiled.
Sleepwalking was not a solution. It didn’t matter how close they were to Xadia.
“Let’s get him inside,” Rayla said to Ezran.
Once again, Claudia had had the baby dragon within reach, and once again, he had escaped her grasp. But she couldn’t dwell on losing the dragon again. The only thing that mattered to Claudia right now was helping her brother.
As rain poured down, she knelt by Soren’s side and brushed some of the matted hair from his face. He was lying still, slumped against the rock where that awful dragon had thrown him. Claudia had never seen a sorrier sight. She put one hand on Soren’s shoulder and turned his face to get a better look at the gash on his cheek.
“I don’t feel anything,” Soren said.
Maybe Soren was overreacting. He sometimes had a flair for the dramatic. Claudia grabbed some skin on his hand and pinched it as hard as she could.
“Can you feel it when I do this?” she asked.
“No,” Soren said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m pinching you, Soren,” Claudia said. He really wasn’t faking. Not even a little.
“Well, that’s just rude,” Soren said. “Way to make a guy feel worse when he’s down.”
Claudia rummaged through her satchel. There had to be a way to fix this. “Hold on, I’ll have you back on your feet in no time,” she said. She pulled out a purple daisy-like flower from her bag and started yanking off its petals. She placed one petal into each of Soren’s ears.
