When Carina and Thatcher were nearly ready to depart, Pan came ashore and took Simber aside. After a short conversation where Alex assumed she was telling him how to find the land of the dragons, the two creatures parted. “You must promise never to repeat my words aloud,” said Pan as she returned to the water.
Simber promised.
Not long after, Carina and Thatcher said good-bye to their loved ones. They tied their provisions to Simber’s back. And soon they were off to rescue the runaways. When they were out of sight, the others trickled back into the mansion, leaving Alex standing on the shore alone.
To the Rescue
Thatcher and Carina rode on Simber’s back into the night, heading west as Pan had instructed. They were almost a full day behind Hux, and Simber couldn’t move nearly as fast as a dragon could swim or fly, so they’d constantly be losing ground. Carina tried not to think about that. She was a seasoned adventurer and skilled fighter, though there hadn’t been much adventuring or fighting lately. And even with the worry for her son’s well-being in the forefront of her mind, the old familiar thrill in her gut kept pushing its way back, trying to be noticed.
The wind sliced through her light brown hair, and it batted a bit of ruddy color into her pale cheeks. Her muscles pulsed as she hung on to the flying cheetah, and in her mind she went over the contents of each of her component vest pockets. She hadn’t had to be this sharp about spell casting in many years, and she didn’t want to appear rusty.
Thatcher, like other Warblerans, didn’t use a last name. He wasn’t new to fighting, though he didn’t have the extensive experience that Carina had. He was in his mid-twenties and had assisted Artimé in the final battle as a teenage refugee. That war had left its mark in the form of slowly fading scars on his forehead and cheek. Thatcher and Henry Haluki were partners in all things, including helping to raise the Unwanted children that continued to make journeys into Artimé from Quill.
Thatcher had very few qualms about working with a bunch of frightened thirteen-year-olds, but on board Simber, his stomach flipped. He hadn’t spent much time on the beast’s back in the past and had always maintained a respectful distance from him. But now the two were forced into a much closer relationship. He sat in front of Carina at her insistence—it just felt a little more secure up there, she explained. He shifted now and then, trying to overcome his fear of sliding right off Simber’s slick stone back. In contrast to Carina, his black hair barely moved in the wind. He wore it meticulously sculpted in corkscrew coils, which stood up naturally most of the time, whether it was windy or calm. His dark brown skin shone with nervous sweat for the first several minutes of the ride, but the wind soon took care of that.
“So, Simber,” said Carina, leaning forward, “is the other land on Lani’s map actually the land of the dragons? And is the secret to fly over the waterfall rather than ride down it?”
“I didn’t say that,” growled Simber. “I’m sworrrn to secrrrecy.”
Carina wasn’t deterred. “I admit I’ve wondered it ever since the young dragons left us. I couldn’t think of another way for them to leave this world, and after the scientists and Aaron and Kaylee explored every inch of these waters and came up with nothing, there really wasn’t any other method that I could think of.”
“I’ve thought it too,” Simber said. “I brrrought up the subject with Alex, but he wasn’t interrrested in explorrring anything afterrr his injurrry.” The cat paused. “I’m surrre you’rrre not surrrprrrised to hearrr that.”
“No.”
After a moment, Thatcher broke the silence. “I wish I’d known Alex better before the battle. To a Warbler kid like me, he was bigger than life. I was so surprised back then when he knew my name. I still remember that moment.”
“There’s a lot the same about him now as then,” said Carina. “But he’s become very cautious. The battles hurt him in more ways than just physically, I’m afraid. And the stress from the girls’ destructive abilities must be exhausting.”
“Do you ever worry about Seth being around them?”
“Not really,” said Carina, but a shadow crossed her face. “I think he figured out how to adapt to stay safe.”
Thatcher glanced over his shoulder. “How?”
“He learned pretty early on not to make them mad at him. Ever.” Carina smiled grimly.
“Oh.” Thatcher faced forward again. “Have you talked to Alex about it?”
“No. He doesn’t need anything else to worry about. He’s a dear friend, and I’d do anything to take away some of his burdens if I could.”
“Of course,” said Thatcher. “We all would.”
Simber nodded grimly. Artimé was fiercely loyal to the young mage who had seen them through years of fighting and brought them safely to the other side of a devastating war. And while Alex wasn’t the only one with a life-altering injury, he seemed to be the only one who hadn’t been able to pull out of the funk it had created. He’d lost so much. His mentor, Mr. Today. His best friend—and Sean’s sister—Meghan Ranger. His parents, and all the people of Artimé he felt responsible for, like Mr. Appleblossom and Liam Healey, and his blackboard, Clive. At least he had Sky to help keep his spirits up . . . though it was harder right now with her away at Warbler.
Simber, Carina, and Thatcher flew on steadily into the night, their minds filled with battling emotions of fear over the disappearance of the children, anticipation of discovering a new land, and sorrow for Alex, who’d been so drastically changed from the man he should have become.
A Perilous Flight
By morning the sea had grown rough. Thisbe, Fifer, and Seth bounced along in the hollow on Hux’s back, and they could hear the pounding of the rapids and the waterfall looming ahead of them—it sounded just like Crow had described in the story the other day. Thisbe’s heart leaped in fear and anticipation. “Look,” she said, pointing to the cloud of mist that rose up in the distance. “There it is. The end of the world.”
The dragon addressed the children. “I’ll be taking flight shortly,” he said. “You’ll want to hold on to the folds of my neck. And try not to grab my wings. I need full use of them if we’re going to make it. And I should warn you . . . it may be a bit of a rough ride. Perhaps you can use your vines somehow to help secure yourselves.”
The girls and Seth moved to their knees and began to search for ways to use the vines. “Try looping one around Hux’s neck,” suggested Fifer. But it was impossible to reach all the way around and grab the end at this high speed—it just got blustered about in the wind. They looked for other ways to attach the vines, but Hux had no spines sticking up anywhere to hook them to.
“We can keep ourselves together, at least,” said Thisbe, awkwardly knotting one end of the vine around her waist. “Tie yourself to this.” She tossed the other end to Fifer.
“What about Seth?”
“I’ll do one for him, too.” Thisbe tied a second vine around her waist and handed the other end to Seth. Soon all three were connected with Thisbe in the middle.
Fifer looked skeptical. “I’m not sure how this is going to help.”
“I don’t know either,” admitted Thisbe, “but at least we’re doing something. I can’t stand just sitting here any longer thinking about Alex and how mad he probably is by now. He’s sent like eight seek spells already. At least now if something happens, we’ll all be together.” She didn’t mention that she was also trying to keep her mind off the fact that they’d be airborne soon.
Just then, a ball of light reached them and exploded into a picture of the ugly painted pebble Thisbe had made for Alex a million years ago. She sighed.
Fifer ignored it. “Nothing’s going to go wrong,” she said firmly.
Seth’s mouth went dry. This was really happening, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Just then the dragon’s wings unfurled and he stretched out his neck, upsetting the children.
“A little warning next time might be nice,” Seth said under h
is breath. Quickly they regained their balance.
“You must hold on tightly now!” shouted the dragon, peering into the mist. “Don’t let go, or you’ll be lost in the scrolling waterfall. You’ll most certainly drown if you don’t die from the fall. Once we’re over the waterfall, there’ll be nothing below.”
Nothing? The children’s eyes grew wide.
“Oh my,” whispered Thisbe, trying not to sound terrified. She hadn’t really thought much about what they’d be flying over. Or how high they would be above whatever it was. But having nothing at all below them? Nothing? She gripped the dragon’s loose skin as her sister and Seth did the same, and she tried not to throw up.
With a violent lurch, the dragon’s spinning tail propelled them up out of the water. His wings stretched out wide and began to flap, making for a constantly moving perch for the kids. He stayed low. Mist and churning seawater splashed up and soaked the three passengers while they hung on, eyes stinging and breath hitching over and over. Soon Hux rose higher into the air, his movements growing more and more fluid, yet every muscle in his back rippled beneath the children.
Seth gasped as he adjusted to his new, unstable seating arrangement, and tried desperately to see where they were going. But the mist was as thick as a cloud, and he could barely even make out the shape of Hux’s head in front of him.
“Don’t look down,” Fifer reminded Thisbe.
Thisbe groaned. “Yeah, thanks for the tip.” As they rose higher, the nearly fearless girl closed her eyes and pressed her face against the dragon. She tried not to think about how high they’d be after they went past the edge of the waterfall.
“How much farther?” Fifer asked the dragon, even though she knew he wouldn’t tell her.
“Hold on,” he said instead, panting a bit but remaining steady. “Don’t let go.”
They obeyed, Fifer peering up and around the side of Hux’s neck, and Seth, a bit more cautiously, doing the same from a slightly more crouched position. His breathing turned to little fearful gasps of air. He tightened the vine around his waist, then grasped a thicker fold of dragon skin, all the while trying and failing to take a slow, smooth breath.
Hux gained altitude as the roaring sound of the waterfall pounded in front of them. The thundering noise grew louder and louder until all of them could feel it rattling their insides. Thisbe clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering and stayed as still as she could, trying not to look down.
Hux’s breathing became labored, and small bursts of flames burned circles into the fog in front of them. His wings beat the air, emitting small thunderclaps with every forceful downward flap.
“Look!” Fifer exclaimed, pointing at the roiling white water below them rushing off the edge of their world. Even more mist rose up. They’d heard so much about this, but to actually see it was wondrous and breathtaking and horrifying all at once.
“Whoa,” said Seth. His heart fluttered as he struggled for breath. He was having trouble focusing. Thisbe stole a peek at the grand view below, then moaned and squeezed her eyes shut again.
Hux powered onward through the mist, concentrating, seeming to focus on something in the distance invisible to the children. His chest heaved with effort. The children, while small, added enough extra weight to Hux’s back to make the journey significantly harder than it had been without them. And every day Hux had been growing a little bit larger. Soon he, like his siblings, would be flightless. But now he had one and only one thought and goal in mind: to make it to the dark cliffs of Grimere that loomed on the other side of the chasm that split the worlds.
A Tenuous Landing
The harder Hux pumped his wings, the thinner the mist grew. But before it cleared completely, Fifer felt the creature losing steam and altitude. “Come on!” she yelled. “You can do it!” Her shouts seemed to bolster her own spirits more than it spurred him on. She glanced at Thisbe, who was hanging on so tightly her hands shook. Or perhaps they trembled with fear. Thisbe was a rock when it came to most things, but she’d never conquered her hatred and fear of high places. Fifer, on the other hand, loved the thrill of being high up and had a hard time understanding anyone who didn’t feel the same way.
Ahead of them the mist seemed to turn gray, and the air chilled considerably. A cold wind blew up from below, making Fifer shiver. It seemed to give Hux a bit of momentum, though, so she was glad for it despite the discomfort. She squinted ahead, wondering what they were flying toward. Wondering how far Hux had to labor to get them there. Hoping the dragon had it in him. She sat up a little, trying to be lighter.
But Hux’s breath became even more labored and his wings seemed to falter, taking an extra second, then two, to make their full rotation up and down. Almost imperceptibly at first, and then noticeably, they began to drop in the air with each upward flap before Hux’s wings pulled them back up again, not quite as high. Soon the drops were enough to cause Fifer’s stomach to flip.
Seth and Thisbe felt it even more. Seth threw a helpless look Fifer’s way but stayed quiet and focused on breathing—he couldn’t speak.
“It’s going to be okay,” Fifer said, recognizing his glassy-eyed look—this wasn’t the first time she’d seen Seth like this. She lifted her chin bravely. “Hang in there, Sethy.”
He nodded and almost smiled at the use of her childhood name for him. He flashed the word “okay” in Warbler sign language, even though he was feeling far from okay.
Fifer turned back to Hux. She wished she could help the dragon, but there was nothing the children could do but hang on.
The mist grew even darker and the air colder. Rain began to pelt Fifer’s face. Soon Hux’s gasps took on a thick, sickly sounding rasp. The rain increased, and then a wall of it swept over them, drenching the children. Hux dropped several dozen feet in the air with the weight of it and wasn’t able to regain altitude.
Once Fifer could clear the rain from her eyes, she realized they’d left the rising mist of the waterfall behind them. The thundering sound had lessened, and Fifer quickly faced forward again. With a gasp strong enough to get Thisbe and Seth to look up, Fifer stared at the sight that emerged before them. The dark cloud morphed into a giant black cliff that jutted up in thick, needle-shaped points against the sky, some so far above them that their tips were lost in clouds.
Upon the biggest, thickest needle’s point was an enormous stone fortress, and a small river that met its end and fell off the side of the cliff. A smattering of village houses painted the valley below in pastel colors. Several other smaller fortresses and villages could be seen all along the cliff, and the vast land appeared to go on forever beyond them, with no sea anywhere in sight. Fifer had never seen anything like it. Having come from the world of seven islands with water all around, she didn’t realize a place with so much land could exist.
As Fifer stared on in awe, Thisbe peeked from between her fingers. Seth’s jaw dropped, and he momentarily forgot his panic and managed to take in a few good breaths. His hold on Hux loosened as he strained to see more. But Hux was quickly loosing steam. They began to drop lower and lower into the chasm the closer they got to the cliff.
Fifer sat up higher. “Hux?” she called out anxiously. “Everything okay?”
The dragon couldn’t answer. His too-small wings tried pumping harder and faster, but they became more and more jerky and uncontrollable in their movements.
Fifer glanced down, and now she could see there was no water below her—they’d left that behind to wrap around their world. She looked back over her shoulder and saw their world suspended in the air, with mist and water flowing around the edge. There was nothing below them—nothing but space. Now her own stomach lurched. She watched the drops of rain from her soaked hair drip off and fly out into the chasm, falling, falling, out of sight below her. Falling until they surely evaporated somehow. She began shivering in earnest. The thought of slipping off the dragon’s back now struck a deep fear in her that she’d never felt before. Perhaps it was the knowledge that
there was nothing below them that made it seem so much more frightening. If she fell . . . what would happen? Would she just keep falling . . . forever?
Hux jerked in the air. “Hold on!” he gasped, stretching and straining his neck, as if that would help lift his falling body. The back end of him began to drag. The children gripped harder as their once flat surface became an inclined plane.
“Help!” squeaked Seth as they jerked and faltered again, falling ten or fifteen feet. The boy whipped his head around wildly, desperately, gasping for air. “Are we . . . going to . . . make it?” As the cliff loomed closer, they looked up at the possible places to land, and all three began to wonder if there was any way Hux would be able to clear the sheer wall.
Fifer moaned. “We’re all going to die!”
Hux snorted in effort and exhaustion, unable to utter another word. He arched his neck and back, and began bucking in the air and propelling his tail wildly, trying everything to gain height so he could land safely. But the best he could do was to head straight for the solid cliff wall.
Frozen in fright, Thisbe didn’t utter a sound. She only held on for dear life while Seth and Fifer watched in horror as the jagged rock wall came into focus. The nearest valley was far above them. They weren’t going to make it.
Hux flailed, his short dragon legs rotating as if to climb magical air steps, his wings straining to pull his heavy body and cargo up, up, up, but barely making progress. He put his head down and gave one more burst of effort, clawing at the wind, his front end flying up and his back end falling even more. His tail twirled angrily, but it didn’t seem to help much. With a shuddering lurch, he let out a blast of fire from his mouth.