by J Boothby
“How do you know all of this?” I’m thinking about all those paintings we saw in his apartment.
“My dad died in the Sundering. I lived with my mom, but it wasn’t easy. But the Narrow King found me, Kylie. Even though he knew who I was and what my dad had done, he spent time with me as I was growing up. And when I was old enough, he started letting me visit the Elhyra.”
The doors slide open onto the street. “He was like a father to me,” he says. “A real one. Let me show you.”
“I can’t,” I say. “I’ve got to go.”
I’ve got the key, and clearly Sam’s not coming.
I need to get back to Elohan and Xandro and get them out of here.
But if I’m honest, a part of me feels like there’s something true in Max’s story. Even if it does sound a little bit creepy.
My uncle did lie to me about a lot of things: about my family, about my past. He kept me disconnected from anyone else from I might have known here.
He had another whole life here in the Elhyra that he never told me about.
And he’s killed a lot of people. The uncle I grew up with wouldn’t have done that, would he?
What if Max’s story is true? As much as I don’t want to believe any of it?
This might be my only chance to find out.
“What is it you want to show me?” I say.
“Come on,” he says. “You’ll see.”
He leads me back to the dragon gates. They swing open for him.
For us.
Max takes my hand. “I can’t wait for you to meet him,” he says.
45
The courtyard is so vast and so full of smaug that I’m overwhelmed. You could fit half of the city inside all the gates, and still have room left. Smaug continue to pour in through the gates. I’ve never seen so many of them in one place before, all of them wearing elaborate costumes. No two are dressed the same.
Broad, horizontal headpieces, wrapped in gossamer webs of silver and gold and embedded with spikes, or candles, or figurines of small animals. Uniforms filled with medals and ribbons and trimmed with shining pieces armor at the shoulders, across the chest. Broad capes and cloaks drift in their own private breezes.
An immense stone table that stretches half a city block is stacked with food and drink.
Beneath some of the dragon statues, an orchestra plays.
It’s all lit up with floating globes of violet lei that drift randomly about in air currents over everyone’s heads.
And above it all, that spinning vortex in the sky.
Heavily armed and armored smaug now surround the platform.
The thrones aren’t empty now.
On the white, center throne sits a male smaug, though he doesn’t look like any other smaug here.
He’s incredibly tall, and very thin. The scales of his skin are so deeply violet that he’s nearly black in color. He wears simple dark clothes, barely trimmed in gold—they’re so plain that they stand out in stark contrast with the rest of the finery in the room.
His eyes are bright green, like mine.
There’s a thin circlet of silver across his forehead that has a single violet gem in its center.
Around his neck, on a heavy chain, is the stone from the crypt.
His Heart. It burns in my mind when I close my eyes.
So does the Narrow King himself—it’s like all of the aether in the Elhyra is spilling off of him.
With my eyes closed, he glows like a tiny sun.
He’s leaning over to talk to the woman who sits in one of the lower chairs next to him, who’s wearing a suit of scaled armor. A great sword lies across her legs, unsheathed.
On the King’s other side, a scarred old smaug with an eye patch and a gnarled set of fangs studies the crowd. His single eye meets my gaze for a moment, and he curious. He considers me as we move through the crowd.
“Come on,” Max says. “Before everything gets started.”
He takes my hand and pulls me closer.
I see people reacting to Max. They nod as he approaches, and make elaborate gestures in the air when he’s near.
Some of them Max responds to in passing. Some of them he just ignores. He’s clearly well known here.
The smaug stare curiously at me. After we pass, I can see them whispering in our wake.
As we go, I scan the crowd, hoping against hope that I’ll see Zara or Devon, Uriah or Elohan anywhere in the crowd. But I don’t see any other humans in the room at all--out of thousands of people here, we’re apparently the only two.
We work our way down toward the platform. Stupidly, I assume Max is just trying to get closer to the throne so we can see what’s going on.
But Max is looking straight at the Narrow King.
In another minute, we’re out in front of the crowd, in a clear area at the base of the stairs.
I can feel the Narrow King’s eyes on me. The other smaug beside him, too.
Along with the eyes of all the guards, too.
“This is a terrible idea,” I hiss at Max. I try and pull my hand away from his.
But he ignores me.
“My lords,” Max calls eagerly up the stairs. “Allow me to present a visitor from Earth. She’s another harbinger, like the boy who assisted me in returning the Heart.”
The Narrow King nods, curiously.
“Approach,” says the older, one-eyed smaug. He gestures casually with a jewel-tipped cane in front of him. “All who walk the worlds are welcome here in Elathor.”
Bad idea, I think. Bad idea.
Nope, I’m not budging.
Nope, nope, nope.
Max tugs at my hand.
“Come on,” he says quietly. “Once you meet him, you’ll understand.”
The crowd nearest to the throne grows quieter as more of the smaug turn to notice us awkwardly standing there. The old smaug watches me, curiously.
“Do not fear us, human,” the Narrow King says. “Your kind are always welcome in the lands of the Elhyra. Let there be goodwill between us.”
My thoughts are spinning as I stare up at them. I know this is a horrible idea. So much aether is pouring through me now. Static energy crackles between my fingers. My hair shifts around like it’s alive, and my feet are hot. All across the surface of my skin, I can feel my hair standing on end.
“Give him a chance,” Max whispers. “You’ll see.”
I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?
I nod, and Max leads the way past the guards and up the stairs.
When we get to the platform, he kneels, and after a second I realize I should do the same.
“My lords,” Max says. “I present to you Ky—”
“Kara,” I blurt out loudly. “Kara Williams.”
Max turns his head sideways and gives me a confused look. But then he continues, “Ky—Kara was very helpful in helping me locate your Heart, my King.”
“Rise,” the King says. “Come closer, Kara Williams of Earth.”
He gestures to the spot right in front of his throne. His voice is deep and rich, with a gentle tone to it like warm honey. He’s smiling down at me.
With those teeth.
And my own green eyes.
I stand, and take a step in his direction. “My lord,” I say. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
“And I yours,” he says, strangely.
He rises smoothly from his throne and reaches out with one hand. He touches my forehead with his finger.
A bright spark jumps from him to me.
“You will be an excellent weapon of the Elhyra,” he whispers.
And with that, my mind goes completely blank.
46
I'm hot. Terribly hot.
I'm standing too close to a fire, and I'm burning.
Burning?
Wait. What?
Two fires, now. Well, barely.
One smaller fire burns back at the other larger one.
The bigger one is a sun. The smaller is a cand
le.
The candle is me. How is that possible?
It makes no sense. I need to step… back?
Directions are confusing.
My feet aren't moving anyway.
Feet. I have feet. That feels like progress.
I can hear voices, as if from a distance. Stay back, I want to tell them. You'll burn up!
But my lips don't move.
But I can feel them, at least. I can feel my feet too.
Lips. Feet. And wait. There's more of me.
That's new.
My eyes… My eyes are open.
I'm looking out at a massive crowd of smaug. All of them are staring right back at me.
That's awkward.
Where am I? It's a dream.
What do you want from me?
There's a flash inside me: the second fire burns brighter still. The candle, which is also me, becomes a torch.
You awaken? a smaug voice whispers in my head. Impressive. But be still. It is not yet time.
My torch is now a campfire. It spreads out from the center of me, pushing the more massive fire back.
Pushing it out. Or trying to, anyway. That other fire, what I realize is the fiery compulsion of the Narrow King, is strong.
It surrounds me, holds me tight.
Almost. But there's a hot spot on my chest.
It's the dog. The blue dog figurine, where I've tucked it into my suit.
It pushes back at the heat of the Narrow King. It's helping me.
I blink.
The smaug aren't looking at me, I realize. They're looking at the Narrow King.
He stands beside me, facing the crowd. He's tall and regal. He's wrapped in fire and has immense wings of aether now. They burst from his shoulders, spread wide into the air like great sails.
I know who you are, Kara who is Kylie. Kylie Walker.
The voice in my head isn't coming from the Narrow King, I realize. It's coming from the old smaug on the other side of me, the scarred one with the twisted fangs and the one eye.
His one eye studies me carefully. How is it that you resist the Thrall? Impressive. I did not think it possible.
The campfire inside me becomes a burning building.
The toy dog somehow channels my fire and builds it into an invisible shield.
The Narrow King is speaking. I can't make out his words. They echo around the great hall, amplified by those balls of aether that waft through the air.
But all I hear are the echos, layering on top of one another in a confusing chaos of sound.
But I can hear the old smaug standing next to me. He’s talking right into my head somehow.
He's leaning heavily on a jewel-tipped cane.
You need to awaken, Kylie, he says. Very soon, you will need to act, if we are to save him.
Save who? Right now, it feels like I’m the one that needs saving.
The Narrow King's wings frame us all on the platform in a line before the thrones:
The old smaug with the one eye.
Me, frozen in place.
The Narrow King, wrapped in the dark glory of his aether, pouring out from his Heart.
Max, who's beaming out at the crowd like he just won a big award.
And lastly, the woman with the scaled armor and the great sword, unsheathed, before her.
I blink again.
There we go. Blinking feels awesome.
But I still can't move anything else.
Yet.
“And lastly, my people,” the Narrow King says, his voice now coming clear. It's deep and practiced, like an actor's. “My subjects. My friends.”
He spreads his hands in the air and opens his wings wide.
“Lastly, I have incredible news, as well as a great surprise. This war, under which we have all suffered for so many years, has gone on for far too long.”
He looks out over the crowds, where smaug whisper and nod to each other, agreeing with him. The Narrow King seems to be the kind of person who likes it when everyone is agreeing with him.
“This unjust rebellion, against everything we know is right and true, is finally at an end.” He pauses dramatically, as smaug in the audience turn toward each other, whispering questions.
“My people,” the Narrow King says, proudly. “I present to you the Sparrow.”
47
A gasp passes through the shocked crowd. My stomach drops away.
From a door to the left of the stairs come four heavily armored smaug. Between them, in chains, they drag my uncle.
He's bruised and severely beaten, and his head swings loosely as he's pulled toward the front of the crowd, to the base of the throne platform.
There's a medieval-type rack set up there that wasn't there before.
They drag him to it, fasten down the chains, and turn cranks pulling all his limbs wide.
Uriah groans. He's still alive.
Barely. There are deep gouges across his chest and a cut on his forehead that's bleeding badly.
His eyes drag themselves open. He sees the Narrow King and his companions. He sees Max.
He sees me standing there next to the Narrow King.
I'm still in here, I want to shout.
But I can't move. Can't speak. Not aloud, anyway.
Who are you? I say in my mind, hoping the old smaug can hear me.
Xerxhos, he says. I remember your mother, Kylie. She was kind to me, once.
The invisible burning building inside me is a city now, a freaking city on fire. Filtered through the dog somehow, it burns hot and bright and pushes back at that other fire, the Narrow King's Thrall that's holding me in place and…
…and now I can nod at my uncle.
Great. That's helping.
Uriah's stares at me, and then his head slumps dejectedly to his chest.
It is nearly time, Kylie Walker.
I manage to get my eyes moving. I look around the room.
This would be the perfect time for Zara to come bounding onto the stage, wolfed-up and ready to rumble. Or for Devon to come spiraling down from the ceiling on some Mission Impossible style rope, guns blazing. Xyr and Xandro and Elohan could step out of a mirror, weapons ready: we can all take a stand right here in the center of the Narrow King's city.
But there's no one else. Just me.
And I still can't move.
Or, wait. Is that my hand? I try it again.
A twitch.
I try and imagine that burning inside me spreading, city to city, across a continent.
That's definitely my hand moving. The dog is bright and hot on my chest, under cover of the Blackstone suit. Is that why my mother gave it to me as a kid? To help protect me?
Very good, the old smaug, Xerxhos, says. You're very strong. You will need to be.
The Narrow King raises his hands to settle the crowd.
“What the Sundering took from you cannot be replaced. You lost your homes, your family, your lands. I, too, have lost the very things I hold dear: my family, who I will always love dearly. The very realm we call ours has been broken apart, and for what?” He points at Uriah. “For basic, human greed.”
Yells and catcalls spread through the audience.
“Many of you know Maxwell Bennett,” he says. The yelling continues, and the Narrow King makes placating gestures with his hands. “Yes, yes: he is a human. And he is the son of Erik Bennett, one of those men who first came among us, and who brought the Sundering, along with the Sparrow. But what you may not know is that Max has truly earned the name some of you have given him. He has truly earned my trust by finding us not just one, but two harbingers we can use as weapons in our fight! One of them stands here before you.”
He gestures in my direction.
I really want to give him the finger, but my arms aren't responding.
“But more importantly, Maxwell has brought back to me my Heart, and with my Heart has come the Sparrow, to try and steal it again. But not this time. Today, all of this ends. Today, I ask one last favor
of Mr. Bennett.”
The Narrow King turns to Max. “Maxwell, please step forward.”
Max looks startled, but he moves to stand before the King.
“Max,” the King says. “A long time ago, we both lost families. Since then, you have been as a son to me. I would have one more task from you. General Xuilhan, your weapon, if you please?”
The woman in the dragon armor kneels and hands the King her greatsword, hilt first.
Get ready, the old smaug says in my mind. You must strike straight for the Heart.
“Maxwell, you have been a true soldier of the Elhyra,” the King says. “To you, I give the honor of dispatching our single greatest foe.”
He holds out the sword to Max. “Will you grant me this request?”
I can't believe what I'm seeing.
Max steps forward slowly and takes the sword.
He looks nervous, but as he wraps his hands around the hilt, the King touches him on the forehead. A spark jumps between them.
“I give you my blessing,” the King says to the crowd. “With it, you shall uphold the honor of the Elhyra.”
Max's eyes look distant, now—the same look I saw in Sam's parent's eyes.
The same look I think my eyes have held.
Until now.
Max turns and walks slowly down the stairs.
This can't happen. I can't let it happen.
I focus on that fire inside me. That burning continent becomes a world, that world a solar system, that solar system an entire universe, spinning and burning away in the night.
A universe of Kylie.
My blood is combusting. My hands are on fire. The aether burns invisibly through me, so hot I think I will melt through the floor.
Max reaches the bottom of the stairs and approaches Uriah.
Uriah stares at him, grimly, but says nothing.
A wide grin spreads across the Narrow King's face.
Leans forward, eagerly. I see a thin, dark tongue lick his teeth.
Max raises the sword high. The blade begins to shimmer above his head.
