Hero

  “Wait!” yelled Saturday.

  The mountain rumbled and roared again. More bits of the ceiling crumbled down into the lair. Earthfire crept slowly across the floor. A few fist-sized rocks rolled under Betwixt’s hooves and Peregrine worried about his friend breaking a leg. One of the rocks leapt onto Peregrine’s skirt and crawled into his lap. It shook off the dust to reveal the ginger fur beneath.

  “A brownie?”

  “Just let it come,” said Saturday.

  There was little time to argue over the wisdom of saving a rodent. Peregrine urged the notch-eared brownie into his pocket and signaled to Betwixt that they were ready.

  The pegasus broke into a solid gallop across the lair and up the pile of fallen rubble. Peregrine worried about their speed, the weight of them on the chimera’s back, and the sword at his side banging into Saturday’s leg. Then Saturday wrapped her arms around his waist, Betwixt spread his wings, and Peregrine worried about nothing at all.

  Hot steam and the cold night stung his cheeks; he opened his mouth and breathed them in together. They tasted like freedom. Betwixt’s wing beats came slow and even, each one carrying them farther and farther away from the prison that had been their home.

  Peregrine turned to look back at the mountain. It looked so peaceful at this distance, like a cake dusted with sugar on a midnight-velvet table. The vents of steam might have been birthday candles, just blown out. Ice crystals twinkled on the peak like the stars above would have, had they not been hidden beneath row upon row of brilliant ice clouds that shone down upon them, all the colors of the rainbow.

  “The Northern Lights!” Peregrine called to Saturday, and she followed his pointing finger up to the heavens. He took in their beauty, closed his eyes, and memorized the view. When he opened them back up he saw Saturday smiling at him with those bright eyes he had loved for so long. He leaned into her slightly, hoping to steal one more kiss without throwing Betwixt off balance.

  Behind them, the mountain erupted.

  Earthfire spilled down the mountainside. Shards of ice flew past them, biting into their legs and Betwixt’s flanks. Despite the danger, the chimera spread his wings wide and rode the drafts of air, refusing to let them force him to the ground. They spun and spun, jumping from one draft to another until Betwixt found suitable purchase.

  Peregrine’s stomach rolled over. Saturday’s arms tightened around his chest. Peregrine folded his arms on top of hers and curled into the wind, squeezing his legs against Betwixt and praying for them to stay balanced and airborne. He wished for a saddle, and then chuckled at the idea of wasting a wish on something so ridiculous.

  They spun around again, and Peregrine watched as the tip of the mountain was blown high into the air. As if in slow motion, the giant crystal pyramid hovered before splintering into a million pieces. Those splinters didn’t fly out; instead, the pyramid expanded, growing wider and wider before it threw its head back and roared.

  The dragon awoke from its sleeping death and took to the skies.

  In his youth, Peregrine had heard stories about Lord Death and his angels with their wings of feathers and fire. This Death rode the chaotic currents on wings of ice and stone. The beast was alive, and it was not happy.

  Saturday’s arms locked around Peregrine. Had he been able to manage it he would have told her not to look, not to turn her head and risk the dragonfear, but what mortal could resist gazing upon such a legend of dangerous beauty? The beast was magnificent; having slumbered so long inside the mountain, it was now truly a part of it. Its white horn and beak stood out prominently, but they were decorated with more small peaks where there should have been none, all across the dragon’s face and wing coverts. Its claws and primaries looked to be carved of pure, clear crystal, as did its eyes, though they burned red with rage and flame.

  The dragon opened its mouth again. The belly of the beast rumbled like the mountain. Earthfire shot from its mouth and spewed across the distance in their direction. The flame glowed pink through the vanes of Betwixt’s translucent wings, outlining the quills and revealing just how little kept them all from tumbling to their deaths. Peregrine felt the heat of the blast on his face. Betwixt caught the updraft and let it carry them farther away from the mountain.

  The chimera’s wing beats came faster. The dragon screeched after its prey. In his pocket, Peregrine felt the brownie’s claws against his skin as they seized up in fear. The weight of the rodent moved up his leg; Peregrine thought it might fall out of his pocket, but only a whiskered nose and two very pointed teeth poked through to witness the majesty of their hunter.

  His hands twisted deeply into Betwixt’s soft mane, Peregrine turned to look back again. The dragon’s wings scooped the air and thrust it back, propelling it forward at a speed that cut the distance between them in half. This time, the dragonfear took him. His lungs turned to ice and his breath left him. The dragon was close, so close that Peregrine could make out the rows of its hungry teeth. The next fiery breath would consume them. His eyes wide, Peregrine gasped for air that would not come.

  Saturday’s face moved in to interrupt his view of the dragon. Peregrine blinked. She planted a quick kiss on his lips that melted the dragonfear that gripped him, and he shuddered as he drew in a cold, misty lungful of life. Her eyes twinkled. They were about to die. Why was she smiling?

  Between them, she held up her dagger, seized a handful of his long hair, and sawed it off. She muttered something into the dark bundle and threw it up into the air above her head, releasing it directly into the dragon’s path. The blue-green band on her wrist sparkled like her bright eyes. Peregrine watched as the hair floated peacefully on the wind, waiting. When the dragon was but a breath away, the strands turned into crystalwings. The mad black and blue flock of them flew into the face of the beast, attacking and confusing it. Peregrine thought he could smell blood on the currents as the sharp crystalwings bit into the dragon’s thick skin.

  “DIVE!” Saturday yelled to Betwixt. Peregrine leaned forward and pressed his face into Betwixt’s mane, summoning the strength to hold on. The pegasus folded his wings, bent his head forward, and they plummeted through the atmosphere.

  Peregrine could feel Saturday’s scream of excitement into his back. He cried out too, letting loose into the freezing night air all the frustration he’d been holding inside himself for so many years. The freedom was intoxicating.

  Now that they were low enough, Betwixt played hide-and-seek through the clouds as they flew farther south, descending all the time over the peaks and valleys of pure white snow. The dragon fell back but did not tire, trumpeting in triumph every time it spotted them again and regained pursuit.

  They might make it. Dear gods in the heavens, they might actually survive this!

  To his left, Peregrine saw the morning sun peek over the horizon. But as the fingers of dawn rose to greet them, they also revealed another peril: what Peregrine had thought were snowy plains below them were waves on a vast ocean, whitecapped, beautiful, and deadly.

  Peregrine had seen hundreds of maps, and at no point did he remember the ocean rising to meet the mountains. Worse still, there were naught but wispy, rainbow-hued clouds to hide them from the dragon. Nor was there any place to land once Betwixt grew too tired to fly.

  Saturday’s arm moved from around his waist once again; this time, she removed the wood-handled brush from her skirt pocket. She closed her eyes, as if saying a small prayer, and threw the brush behind them. It tumbled ungracefully through the air before being swallowed by the ocean.

  This time, nothing happened.

  Peregrine bowed into Betwixt’s mane again, shielding his raw cheeks from the continued onslaught of wind. Saturday curled into Peregrine as well, muttering something into his back. A prayer, an apology, a declaration of love, a curse—Lord Death would let him know which, but he bet on the latter.

  A new roar echoed in his ears, but it was not the dragon. Colored lightning fell from the chaotic clouds around them to snap against
the breaking waves. Betwixt ascended as the waves rose up to meet them. The valleys began revealing houses, fences, and trees. Faster and faster the ocean fled, and from that drying earth grew the forest.

  As soon as Betwixt found a suitable stretch of solid ground, he landed. The chimera’s breaths came heavy and his straining muscles were hot beneath Peregrine’s hands. He folded his great wings and continued to gallop, dodging back and forth as massive oaks and evergreens shot up around them.

  The dragon shrieked in frustration at the loss of its quarry. Peregrine heard the rumble and blast that came with its fire, but the wet, new wood of this forest blessedly caught no flame. Betwixt slowed under the cover of a copse of ash and chestnut, the monoliths’ leaves taking on autumn hues even as they budded and grew.

  The dragon shrieked again, but this time it sounded farther away. Peregrine could no longer distinguish its wing beats. Betwixt stopped to let them dismount. Peregrine collapsed to the damp ground, for his legs did not have the strength to hold him. Saturday hugged the nearest tree trunk before sinking down to the forest floor beside him.

  A lump in his skirt squeaked, and Saturday shook the fabric in an effort to free the frightened brownie. The rodent bit her fingertip before disappearing into the wood.

  “Ungrateful scamp,” Peregrine called after it, but he had no strength for bluster.

  “It’s only a scratch,” said Saturday.

  “Shame,” said Peregrine. “Now you cannot tell the world you escaped a dragon unscathed.”

  Saturday bowed her head so that the longer strands of her hair occluded her face. “I need to get to the abbey,” she said. “My mother will be waiting for me there.”

  “Then we go to the abbey,” said Peregrine. His skin itched mightily. He scratched at his chin. Now that the witch was dead, Leila’s curse seemed to be running its course, slow bit by slow bit.

  “Which abbey?” asked Betwixt.

  “I . . . I don’t know. From our house it was north and east, on the plains between the mountains and the sea. My aunt is the abbess there.”

  “What is your aunt’s name?” asked the pegasus.

  “Six,” answered Saturday. “Or, rather, Rose Red.”

  “Rose Abbey,” said Betwixt. “I know the place. When we’ve rested, we’ll make our way there.”

  Saturday nodded and leaned back against the tree. Betwixt shook out his wings and grazed on a patch of newbirthed grass.

  Peregrine lay back on the solid ground, dug his fingers into the soft dirt, and breathed in the sweet, fresh forest air. He knew that living to see the end of this day had consequences. For the moment, he simply wanted to enjoy his freedom.

  17

  Fate’s Playthings

  IT TOOK the trio about a day to get to Rose Abbey. When they tired of walking, Betwixt flew, when he tired of flying, they walked, and when exhaustion overwhelmed them all, they collapsed on the forest floor, slept awhile, awoke, and started again. Betwixt gorged himself on sweet, wet grass and Saturday remembered enough of her skill to bring down a small rabbit with her dagger, but they were still filthy and half starved when they reached their destination.

  They found the road to the abbey from the air. Upon it rode a wide, flat wagon with a single driver who appeared intent on the same destination.

  Betwixt landed before the great walled entrance to the abbey just as the wagon arrived. The climbing roses that covered the bricks reminded Saturday of the roses surrounding the Woodcutter house. To the left of the grand archway, crimson petals bloomed like bloodstains. The roses to the right of the archway bore petals of the purest white.

  The large mahogany doors of the abbey opened before the party was halfway through the courtyard. A slip of a woman with a mop of red-gold curls burst out onto the stone porch and flew down one side of the split stair, while another woman in stately burgundy robes gracefully descended the other. Peregrine dismounted and helped Saturday down from Betwixt’s back. She locked her unsteady knees, bracing herself for the impact of Thursday’s embrace.

  “Saturday.” Her sister breathed her name into the skin of her neck opposite her ragged ear. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.” Thursday backed up to hold her at arm’s length. “You look like hell.”

  Saturday shook her hair into her face to hide the worst of the damage.

  Erik, not to be outdone by the Pirate Queen, caught Saturday up in a quick hug. “Missed you, Giantess.”

  “Back at you, Hero.”

  “Perhaps I should be calling you that.”

  “Some strays have followed you home.” Thursday nodded to Peregrine and Betwixt. “Spoils of war?”

  Peregrine swept his skirt back in a half-bow, half-curtsey, as if he wore royal robes instead of ancient rags. “Peregrine of Starburn. This is my companion, Betwixt.”

  Betwixt stepped one foot forward, spread his wings to either side, and bowed his head low. The effect was incredibly impressive.

  “You’ve got stories,” said Erik.

  “We all have stories,” said the abbess.

  Saturday bowed to her aunt. “Hello, Aunt Rose.”

  “I’d say ‘well met,’ dear niece, but I suspect none of us has glad tidings this day.”

  “Don’t hug her,” warned Thursday. “She smells like the devil’s stable.”

  The driver dismounted from the wagon’s seat and removed his hat. He was a scruffy, hirsute man with eyes like the storm they’d flown through to escape the dragon.

  “Wolf.” The abbess held her hands out to greet him.

  He kissed both her cheeks and then knelt to kiss her ring of office. “My beloved Rose Red.”

  “I had not foreseen that this day would bring such a bounty.” Rose Red shot a glance at Thursday. Thursday, who possibly knew all of this from her spyglass, looked away. “I believe it would be best if Saturday and her companions were properly bathed and clothed before we go any further. Erik, would you see Betwixt to the stables?”

  “No need, Your Eminence.” In a flash of light, the pegasus was replaced by a scruffy young boy with stubby horns, a short beard, and goat’s feet. Betwixt, in his new form, bowed again to the abbess.

  If this act surprised Rose Red at all, she did not show it. “All children of earth are welcome in the home of their Mother Goddess. Shall we?” As they entered through the large doors, the abbess waved her hand and several acolytes appeared.

  Thursday grabbed Saturday’s hand and pulled her along. “Come on, Miss Molasses,” she said. Of all the Woodcutter sisters, it was no surprise that she and Saturday most often repeated this particular phrase of Mama’s.

  Erik led Peregrine and Betwixt in the opposite direction. Saturday hadn’t realized until that moment that she wasn’t truly comfortable leaving her companions. Peregrine’s eyes met hers across the foyer and he nodded that he would be all right. Saturday hoped that was true. Everything was changing so fast.

  “Where’s Mama?” she asked.

  “Inside,” Rose Red said calmly. “I’ll see to her. You may join us in the chapel when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you,” she told her aunt. If Mama saw her like this, who knew what conclusions she’d jump to. She let Thursday drag her to the women’s chambers.

  The acolytes filled two tubs for Saturday. She’d need them. This bath was a far cry from the crystal lake with its hot springs, but it came with large cakes of soap. Saturday stripped quickly and jumped in, eager to scrub the curses and weariness out of her skin.

  Thursday spoke to the waiting acolytes and they left quickly with the dirty things. “I had them fetch you some proper clothes,” she said, and Saturday thanked the Earth Goddess (whose house she currently stank up) that her companion was the sensible sister. “Do you know you’ve been missing for more than a month?”

  Had she really? “It felt like only days,” said Saturday. “But time passed strangely on the mountain where we were held. Where is your ship?”

  “I was dubious of your fickle ocean,” said
Thursday. “I told Simon Silk to leave at the slightest inkling of magic, with or without me onboard. At the first sign of green lightning, he was gone.”

  “So you’re stuck here?”

  “I’ve been landlocked before,” said Thursday. “Don’t worry. I’ll find my ship. If she doesn’t find me first.”

  “Trix is alive,” said Saturday. “I saw him in a magic mirror. But you already knew that.”

  “I knew the lingworm had saved him, but I do not know his plight. My spyglass has spotted him only once since then. Speaking of . . . where’s your sword?”

  Saturday sank beneath the surface of the water to put off answering. “Lost,” she said when she came back up for air. She lathered the soap into her hair a third time for good measure. It smelled of lavender and rosemary, sweet and green and alive.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Things have a way of turning up again in the strangest of places. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said about your ear. May I have a look?”

  Saturday only acquiesced because Thursday didn’t make a big deal about it. Friday would have fainted dead away. It wasn’t painful anymore, but Saturday was genuinely curious as to how the stump of it had healed.

  “It’s not bad, actually.” She felt Thursday trace the scalloped edges where her lobe had been, and the cauterized scar tissue beneath it. “It looks rough, but you’ll be able to hide it well enough with your hair until the color fades. I’ve seen worse on my ship.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “Men who fight trolls regularly learn not to get too attached to their limbs,” said Thursday. “The price of adventuring.”

  “It was a witch,” explained Saturday. “Of the evil demon variety.”

  “Ugly breed.”

  “She locked me in a cage and used my ear as an ingredient for a terrible spell that would have torn the world apart. I had to stop her.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  Saturday could have said a thousand things. She’d had no choice; they had to escape; she was saving the world. But the only answer she gave her sister was “Yes.”