Dragon Bones

  Alex sucked in a sharp breath. He fumbled for a spell component.

  From behind him Fifer had heard the woman’s voice, and then, looking around him to see who it was, she witnessed the Revinir’s scales beginning to glow. She screamed, “Alex, look out!” and reached for her vest pockets.

  But they had no time to react. A long, thin spear of dragon fire shot out of the Revinir’s mouth, striking Alex in the center of his chest. It threw him violently backward, limbs flying, knocking Fifer into the hallway. Then he hit the floor with a crack and skidded to the doorway, the lightning-like spear sticking with him. Skewering his chest.

  Alex’s body came to a stop. The dragon-fire bolt faded, and the Revinir stared as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

  From the hallway Fifer shot off her last two heart attack components into the dark crypt, but forget to yell the verbal component. She couldn’t tell if they hit their mark. “Help!” she called out. Blind with fear for her brother, she abandoned further attack and scrambled to her hands and knees over to him.

  “Alex!” Fifer shouted as Talon leaped over them, charging into the crypt. The Revinir slammed a dragon-fire bolt at him, too, sending him back out the doorway and crashing against the wall of the passageway, stunned.

  Several of the others had all grabbed spell components by now and took cover, peering into the crypt.

  Still stunned by what she’d done, the Revinir’s eyes widened to see so many of her former enemies. She took another dragon-fire shot, narrowly missing Lani’s forehead.

  “Fire!” Lani cried, retaliating with a spell Fifer had never seen before. But Lani’s wheels seemed to catch and she lost her balance and missed.

  The Revinir ducked and took a few steps back, like she was worried she couldn’t take all of them on.

  “Heart attack!” cried Carina, and she and several others sent a round of heart attack spells at the woman.

  The Revinir turned and tried to dodge the components by scrambling up the bone mountain. But there were too many to avoid. The components slammed into her, and she cringed. But then they bounced off her, causing no harm. They hit the ground and rolled around.

  “Carina, help!” Fifer called out. “Alex isn’t breathing!”

  The Revinir looked surprised to be still standing, and took the distraction as her cue to get away. As the Artiméans let go another round of heart attack spells, the Revinir turned and deftly climbed the pile of bones, again unaffected by the components. She slipped into the tunnel and disappeared.

  Lani struggled with her wheeled vehicle to get back up, but it wasn’t working right. Carina and the others rushed over to Fifer and the head mage. His face was ashen. His robe had a burned spot the size of a fist on his chest. Carina tried to revive him. Samheed ran for the medical kit and brought it back.

  “Alex,” Fifer pleaded. “Please wake up.”

  “Everyone stay back,” said Carina, sounding frantic. Finally Lani was able to pull herself upright, and she gently pulled Fifer next to her in the hallway so Carina and Samheed could work. And that’s when Lani saw what else was happening. The permanently frozen soldiers who lined the area were beginning to move.

  “Oh my,” Lani whispered. She quickly looked down at her wheels and noticed her contraption no longer had the magical shine it normally had. “No. This can’t be.”

  “What’s happening?” cried Fifer, straining to see Alex’s face.

  Lani let go of her and pulled a heart attack spell out of her pocket. She aimed it at one of the soldiers and flung it. “Heart attack!” she cried. The component bounced off him, and he kept moving. Lani gasped. “Oh no!” One hand rose to her throat, and the other rested on the belt around her hips. She turned sharply and nearly fell again. “Alex! No!”

  The others of the rescue team looked up. Kaylee rushed over when she heard Lani gasp. Talon, who’d regained his senses after being speared with dragon fire, slowly got up.

  “What is it?” Samheed asked, eyes wild and fearful.

  “My wheels won’t move magically anymore.” Then Lani pointed at the soldiers. “And look.”

  “What’s happening?” Fifer asked again, her voice breaking. Seth came to stand by her, trying to figure out what was going on too.

  “Why didn’t the spells work?” demanded Talon.

  There was a noise at the crypt door as Carina stopped working on Alex. Her face was drawn.

  “There can only be one reason,” Lani told them, voice trembling. She started to cry. Seeing Carina’s face, she pulled herself over to Fifer and took the girl’s hand. “And it’s only happened once before.”

  “No,” said Samheed, as the truth came to him. “No! That’s not what this is. It can’t be.”

  But Lani continued, trying to steady her voice. “When the head mage of Artimé dies, the magical world disappears. All the magic in it, too.”

  “What are you saying?” cried Kaylee. “Quick, Carina—give him some more medicine! Why are you stopping?”

  “It’s too late,” said Lani, tears streaming. “It’s too late. Don’t you see? The soldiers are moving. The heart attack spells don’t work. My wheels won’t move according to my thoughts anymore. The magic—it’s already gone! See?” Blindly she took out an origami dragon. “To the elevator!” she commanded it, and sent it flying. It dropped to the floor.

  Carina nodded. “Lani’s right. I can’t do anything for him. It’s too late. He’s . . . he’s gone.”

  Thatcher stared. He tried a spell too, which failed.

  Fifer was numb. Her head spun as she tried to comprehend what had happened. All she could do was stand and watch. Lani and Carina were telling the truth. It was too late.

  Fifer’s brother was gone. Alex Stowe, head mage of Artimé, was dead.

  “We have to go immediately,” said Carina in a low voice. “Before they realize we’re weaponless. Talon? Will you . . . ?” She pointed at Alex’s body inside the room, closed her eyes, and lowered her head. She couldn’t finish.

  “Yes, of course.” Talon went in and picked up the mage as gently as he could.

  The soldiers soon began to stagger to their feet. Kaylee kept them back with her sword so that they couldn’t regroup. The people of Artimé slipped down the passageway, Samheed helping Lani move quickly. The first group of mages got into the elevator and rose out of the catacombs. They spilled into the square, where a few surprised townspeople traveled on foot. There was no market today. In the next elevator ride, Kaylee followed with Talon, who carried Alex’s body.

  With Fifer too distraught to instruct the birds, Shimmer ordered them to retrace their flight path to the cave exit, carrying the empty hammock. Even with Artimé’s magic gone, Fifer’s birds seemed to be unaffected.

  In the square, Talon ignored the townspeople who gaped at his strange bronze presence and the lifeless body in his arms, and he and Kaylee hurried off after the others to their meeting spot in the forest. There they found Simber’s body frozen in place where they’d left him, all the magic gone from him, too. Crow reached into his pocket and pulled Kitten out, placing her on Simber’s back. She didn’t move either.

  “Oh, Simber,” said Lani, shaking her head. “How will we ever tell you this dreadful news?” Silently she imagined Artimé in chaos, but they were helpless to do anything without a ride across the gorge.

  “Arabis’s wings won’t work,” Samheed said, beginning to calculate all the devastation and complications that Alex’s death had brought. “We’re stuck here.”

  “There are other head mage robes,” Lani said quietly. “And instructions. Alex made sure of it years ago. Claire Morning has one somewhere.”

  “And Aaron,” said Carina. “Though he might not realize right away what happened.”

  “Oh, dear Aaron,” muttered Kaylee, shaking her head. “He’ll be devastated. But he’ll do anything he can—”

  “He’ll be stuck on the Island of Shipwrecks,” Samheed pointed out grimly. “The tube won’t work. So it’
ll have to be Claire who restores Artimé.”

  Fifer and Seth stared wide-eyed, trying to follow the strange conversation, unable to understand the depth of what had just happened. All Fifer knew was that her brother Alex, whom she was just coming to understand and really enjoy, was dead. Dead! How could it be? She’d saved his life once that day, but he had died anyway. It felt so wrong. It was completely bewildering. The word “dead” echoed in her mind. She was too stunned to cry, or maybe just too numb to feel the tears.

  Crow blew out a breath, recollecting what the world had been like when the last head mage had died. It was just a short time after he and Sky had arrived in Artimé. He exchanged a devastated glance with Carina, who was the only other one of them who’d been present in Artimé when it had happened. “It can’t possibly be as bad this time as it was back then,” he said, wanting desperately to believe it. “Can it?”

  Carina pursed her lips, not knowing the answer.

  “How long do you think it’ll take to get the magic back?” Seth asked nervously. “Days?”

  “Not that long,” said Samheed firmly, but his face was troubled. “A few hours, don’t you think, Lani?”

  “If all goes perfectly,” said Lani. “If Claire has the robe.”

  “And the spell,” added Crow.

  “Yes. The spell,” said Samheed.

  “We will make it through this,” said Carina firmly. “We always have.”

  “Let’s hope for that,” said Kaylee through silent tears. She rested her hand on Simber’s frozen neck and stroked it. Then she petted Kitten’s cold porcelain back with her fingertip. “Hope is all we have.”

  After a silent moment, a faint sound of trumpets came from far off.

  Talon lay the head mage’s body on the forest floor. Crow stood beside him, all of the memories of those early days in Artimé hitting him hard. He looked down at Alex’s body and the burn hole in his robe, centered on his chest. In tribute Crow raised his fist to his own chest and tapped it, a symbol of solidarity that Alex had begun using in the darkest days. Then Crow opened his lips to speak the line that went with it but couldn’t get the words out. So he said them in his heart. I am with you.

  Carina covered Alex’s body with a blanket. And they all gathered around to mourn their beloved leader. Their friend and brother.

  There was nothing else they could do.

  What Hope Sounds Like

  When Thisbe woke up to the distant bleat of trumpets, it was dark—she and Rohan had slept the day away. Her body ached, and her stomach twisted in pain. She’d dreamed she was back home eating something delicious that the chefs had prepared. It was such a real dream that she could almost smell the food. She poked Rohan awake.

  He groaned and lay there a moment. Then he eased up to sitting. “Everything hurts.”

  “Yes. But we made it.”

  Rohan nodded. “We really did.” The horns sounded again from a long way away. His eyes widened, and he sat up. “Do you hear that?”

  “Yes. What is it?”

  “It’s . . . it’s the king’s call to arms. Or at least that’s how I’ve always imagined it would sound. If it continues all evening, we’ll know for sure it is.”

  Thisbe gave him a solemn look. “What does it mean?”

  “It means the king is calling the people of Grimere to join his army and fight for the kingdom. I knew it was inevitable, especially after the Revinir’s soldiers killed the princess. She was his only heir, and he’s got to be sick over her death. But even sicker worrying about the kingdom falling into the wrong hands once he’s gone, now that there’s no offspring to take the throne.”

  “So . . . this is the war?” said Thisbe, alarmed. “It’s happening? Like, now?”

  “Not yet. He’s sounding the trumpets to see how many will come to his side to fight against the Revinir. He’ll want to train them and organize first.”

  “Oh.” Thisbe relaxed a little. The thought of being stuck in the middle of a war the day after their escape was not at all appealing. She looked at her fingertips, which were still red and blistered from yesterday’s battle. She pointed her forefinger at a dead leaf and let out a spark, setting it on fire. She grimaced in pain. The magic made her finger hurt more. She’d want to wait a few days at least to heal before doing that again. Thisbe put out the tiny fire, then went to get some water from the lake.

  Rohan wrapped his arms around his knees and remained in his spot, deep in thought and brooding with the trumpets. Eventually the call to arms ceased, and the silence was overtaken by crickets chirping.

  Thisbe returned with a fresh green palm leaf that she’d rolled into a cone and scooped water into. She offered it to Rohan.

  “Thanks.” He took it gratefully and drank. “What’s that smell?” he asked. He sniffed the air.

  “Something cooking? I thought I was imagining it. Maybe it’s coming from the catacombs.” Thisbe pushed the brush aside and peered out. She could see a faint glow of candlelight coming from the circular opening to the catacombs high above them.

  “We’ve never consumed anything in the crypts that smells this delicious,” said Rohan. He slapped at a bug, then peered at it curiously, like he might be tempted to eat it. He sniffed again and looked around. “There’s smoke over there along the shore. A fire. Someone’s camping out.”

  Normally Thisbe wouldn’t consider approaching anyone when trying to hide from everyone. But she was growing delirious with hunger. They had no fishing equipment, and she didn’t trust the unfamiliar plants enough to try eating them—the grandfathers had taught her they could be poisonous. “Let’s see if we can beg for some food.”

  Rohan looked skeptical, but he was starving too. “Do you think people are looking for us? What if this master chef vagabond notices our eyes? We’re nowhere near safe, you know.”

  “You’re right.” Thisbe hadn’t really thought much farther than escaping the catacombs and getting to the ground. Now they were faced with a whole new set of problems. “I’ll pretend to be a beggar and see if I can get at least a little food until we can figure something out. Give me your shirt—I’ll wear it like a scarf and cover my eyes and face a little.”

  Rohan was hungry enough to agree. He took off his shirt, and Thisbe folded it and wrapped it around her head. “Shall I come with you?” he asked.

  “Are you an actor?” asked Thisbe.

  “Me? No. Why?”

  “I’m an actor,” Thisbe said. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve had a lot of training. I can play the part of a beggar and nobody will ever recognize me again. Plus, in case people were alerted to the two of us having escaped, they won’t suspect as much if it’s just me.”

  Rohan thought about it and agreed. “Just hurry before they eat all the food without us.” He grinned weakly. “Be careful. Sneak up and make sure it’s not a bunch of soldiers first.”

  “I will.” The call to arms sounded again, as Rohan had predicted, and Thisbe and Rohan looked at each other uneasily. Then Thisbe slipped as quietly as possible out of the brush and went toward the smoke and the smell.

  She stayed along the lake near the steep rocky hillside, and eventually she saw where the smoke was coming from. There was a fire burning in a small cave. Over the fire was a makeshift spit made from sticks and thin, scorched vines, and on the spit was a big open-mouthed fish speared from throat to tail. Thisbe didn’t see anyone there tending it. She crept closer. Maybe she could steal it without having to beg.

  Staying in the shadows of the rock wall, Thisbe drew near to the opening, the delicious smell making her mouth water. Slowly she peered inside the cave. No one was there. Crazy with hunger, Thisbe crept forward. She glanced over her shoulder into the dark evening. Seeing no one, she went up to the fire and touch-tested the stick that speared the fish, trying to figure out how to pick it up without burning her already scorched fingers. Remembering Rohan’s shirt, she quickly unwrapped it from her head and used it like a hot pad, lifting the stick from one end. It was heavy
. She hoisted it up and turned carefully, feeling a huge rush of adrenaline. She had to get out of there.

  She heard a crackle of footsteps, and her heart stopped. She moved away from the light, stumbling in her haste. Before she could disappear into the darkness, a woman’s angry voice called out. “Stop! You thief! Bring that back here right now!”

  Thisbe froze when she heard the footsteps coming swiftly toward her. Weak and carrying a huge fish, there was no way Thisbe could outrun anybody. She turned sharply to see someone coming at her, looking fierce. Thisbe didn’t know what to do—if she tried to run, the woman could follow her, and she didn’t want that. She and Rohan needed to stay hidden. And she didn’t want to drop the precious food. Maybe if she begged, the woman would feel sorry for her.

  The woman stopped in the shadows at the edge of the fire. “Come here this instant with my fish!”

  Thisbe took a few steps toward her and hung her head to keep her eyes hidden. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m—I’m just very hungry.” She held out the stick with the fish and stepped to the fire to put it back in place. “I don’t suppose you can spare a few bites for me and my . . . uh . . .” She thought quickly, trying to sound more pitiable. “My sick mother?”

  Thisbe could feel the woman’s stare nearly boring a hole through her head, but she didn’t dare look up and risk capture. Finally the woman took a step closer.

  Thisbe took a step backward and contemplated running for it.

  “Wait,” said the woman, less angry now. “Don’t run.” For an instant, Thisbe thought the voice sounded familiar. Was it one of the soldiers out of uniform? Someone else from the market or the prison? Or was Thisbe just out of her mind with hunger?

  The woman knelt, trying to get a better look at the skinny, ragged thief in front of her, and then she sucked in a breath. “Thisbe?” she whispered. “Can it be?”

  Thisbe’s heart throttled. Despite her vow to keep her eyes hidden, she looked up. Her lips parted in shock, and her breath caught in her throat. She blinked and looked again, fearing a mistake due to her altered state of mind. But no—her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. A rush of hope surged inside her chest for the first time since her capture, and a gasp escaped. Someone from Artimé had come to rescue her after all.