The Lightning-Struck Heart

by T. J. Klune

  “Presents? Gimme, gimme, gimme. It better be expensive. And engraved.”

  “It’s priceless and not engraved at all.”

  “Oooh,” I said. “I am very okay with this.”

  “Wizarding secret,” he said. He pulled open a cabinet and pulled out a black box. He turned and placed the box on the table next to my Grimoire. “Open it.”

  The box itself was made of stone, intricate carvings on the lid and sides. I recognized some of the runes. Sun. Earth. Clarity. Foresight. The box was old. Probably ancient. Runes like this weren’t used in the every day. This was elder magic, from when the world was young and magic was a more visceral thing. I felt my own magic shiver as I traced the clarity rune with my fingers.

  I lifted the lid. It was heavier than I thought it’d be.

  There was a white cloth inside. Soft and smooth. I pulled it apart.

  In the cloth lay a red crystal about the length of my finger. It was thin and cut with precision.

  And I had absolutely no idea what it was. I touched it gently and smiled when a bright spark shot off in the crystal.

  “It’s a summoning crystal,” Morgan said.

  “A summoning what now?”

  “You’re given one once you pass the Trials,” he said. “It allows a wizard to contact other wizards who have touched the stone. This one was specifically made for you by Randall. Only he and I have touched it, so you can only contact the two of us.”

  “Contact?” I asked. “How?”

  “It won’t be corporeal,” he said. “I’ll be able to hear you through the stone, and you’ll be able to hear me. You think of me when holding it in your hand and I’ll feel the pull of it through my own stone.” He reached into an inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a blue stone, much the same cut and size as mine. “Use it sparingly, Sam. It’s not a toy.”

  “I’m so going to use it as a toy,” I told him. “I’m going to use it at three in the morning just to tell you I miss the sound of your voice. Do you think Randall will recognize me if I try to prank summon him?”

  “And this is why apprentices aren’t given these stones,” he said. “Because of shenanigans.”

  “My shenanigans are awesome,” I said. “But why give this to me now? I’m not going through the Trials with Randall. That’s still years off.”

  “Randall suggested it.”

  “He what? He hates me. Why would he want me to have something this precious when I haven’t earned it?”

  Morgan shrugged. “I didn’t question it. If Randall wanted you to have it, he has his reasons. It could be something as simple as the distance you’re traveling is great and it’s better for you to have a lifeline.”

  “Nothing with Randall is ever simple,” I reminded him. “You know that as well as I do. He’s plotting something.”

  “Probably. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

  “And he knows I’ll be delayed?”

  “Yes. He’s aware. He’s using his own resources to help track the Prince. For now, head north to Meridian City. There are rumors the dragon was spotted near a village on the outskirts of the city called Old Clearing.”

  “I’ve been through there,” I said. “Once. It’s all sheep and farming.”

  “Food source,” Morgan said. “Three people have disappeared from the village in the last month alone and scorch marks were found on the ground.”

  “It has to be getting desperate if it’s eating people,” I said. “The other dragons don’t do that.”

  “That we’re aware of,” Morgan said. “Randall can speak for the mated pair in the north, but the desert dragon isn’t as closely monitored. The Great White Dragon hasn’t been seen in years, but I never heard of it eating any humans either.”

  “You realize that I’ll have to go through the Dark Woods.”

  Morgan stiffened as his eyes flashed. “You’ll do no such thing,” he said. “Take the Old Road.”

  “Around?” I said incredulously. “That’ll take weeks!”

  “I don’t care, Sam. You have had enough dealings with the Darks to last a lifetime. The last thing we need is for you to stumble on more of them.”

  “I could do that anywhere,” I said. “They use the Old Road like everyone else.”

  “I’m aware,” he snapped at me. “But it’s one thing to stumble upon them there as opposed to finding them where they live. You mind me on this, Sam. Stay out of the Dark Woods.”

  “But—”

  “You have a job to do. Assist Knight Commander Foxheart in rescuing the Prince. They’ll return to the castle. You’ll go to Randall. You’ll learn from him that which I cannot teach you, and then you will come home. That is all you need to be concerned with. Do you understand?”

  “Morgan—”

  “Do you understand?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yes. But I swear to the gods that if you’re holding back from me and I find out what it is, I am going to rescind that awesome hug I just gave you and there will be none to follow for a very long time.”

  “The world weeps at such a thought.” But his lips quirked up, the anger fading from his eyes.

  “It should. I give great hugs.”

  “No Dark Woods,” Morgan said.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “No Dark Woods.”

  FUCK THAT. We were totally going through the Dark Woods.

  THE NEXT morning, we met in the lobby of the throne room before sunrise.

  Mom cried and told me I needed to think about her every day. I told her then that nothing would change because I did that already.

  Dad was gruff, but I could see the way his hands shook, and he told me that he would hold down the fort until I got home. I told him I expected nothing less and had to blink the burn away when he placed a rough kiss on my cheek.

  Morgan had said what he needed to the day before. I had the summoning crystal stowed away next to my Grimoire in a rucksack that Gary wore attached to his back. He merely put a hand to my shoulder and told me he would see me soon. I told him not to let the castle run to ruins since I wasn’t there to hold everything together. He assured me they would find a way.

  The King brought in a High Priest to bless our journey. The High Priest asked if he should also bless the horses we would be using.

  “We’re not riding horses,” I said.

  “We’re not?” Ryan asked, scowling prettily. Like a jerk. “But—”

  “It’s racist,” I said.

  “It’s what?”

  Gary was glaring at him.

  “But he’s not a horse,” Ryan said.

  The glare slightly lessened.

  “No, but it’s still demeaning to him. We don’t ride anywhere we go. It’s how we roll. You can always stay here if that’s a problem.”

  “Maybe those legs are just for show,” Gary whispered loudly. “Maybe he doesn’t really know how to use them. The racist.”

  “I don’t think you’re using the word racist right,” he said.

  “Unicorns are a race,” Gary snarled at him. “Is Gary gonna have to—”

  “Here come angry glitter,” Tiggy said. “I smash Knight Delicious Face?”

  “Yes, Tiggy! Smash him! Smash the racist!”

  “No smashing,” I said, stepping in between Ryan and Tiggy. “Not yet. At least wait until we actually start The Epic Adventure of Sam, Gary, and Tiggy.”

  “You capitalized that, didn’t you,” Morgan sighed.

  “I did,” I said. “That’s how you know it’s epic.”

  Gary’s rage glitter subsided. “The most epic there could be.”

  “And Ryan,” Ryan said.

  We all looked at him.

  “The Epic Adventures of Sam, Gary, Tiggy, and Ryan,” he said. “If we’re doing this, I’m getting in on the capitalization.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “If you must. Though the name now sounds ridiculous.”

  “Because it didn’t before?”

  “Because it didn’t before,” I mocked h
im.

  “And again, why Knight Delicious Face?”

  “Anyway,” I said loudly. “Are we good? Did the Priest give us enough hoodoo so we can get the fu—fudge out? Sorry, Father.”

  “It’s okay,” the priest assured me. “I’m pretty sure your soul is already doomed.”

  “There’s the idolatry I know and avoid.”

  “Sam, Ryan, a word if you would,” the King said.

  We followed him through the Great Doors into the throne room. He dismissed the two castle guards in the room, telling them to wait outside. They closed the doors behind them.

  Ryan stood at attention like a good knight. I slouched. I was okay with that.

  The King looked down at his hands for a long time before he spoke. Finally, he said, “Justin’s mother… she. Well. She was a lovely woman. She was a Queen and not just in name and title. She was strong. She was kind. And she loved this kingdom with every fiber of her being. She laughed at me the first time I asked her for her name. She said a prince had the means to find out such things and she wasn’t going to make it easy on me. And she didn’t. At every turn, she seemed to be almost out of reach, always pushing me and pulling away. It was difficult. Many times I thought about stopping my pursuit and focusing my attention elsewhere. Many times I told myself it was the last time. Finally, one day, she stopped. She turned to look at me and her eyes were soft and she told me that she loved me and that I had better ask her to marry me, otherwise she was going to kick me in the shins. So I did.

  “She died giving birth to Justin. There was so much joy, but it was drenched in misery. I had a son. I had lost my wife. Verania had a future king. Verania had just lost its Queen. My soul felt dark. But there was this little light. This little bundle of light that wrapped his tiny hand around my finger and held on tightly, as if reminding me that he was still there. That she was gone but he was not and he needed me now. Because he had lost her too.

  “So I held on. I have made mistakes. I was not a perfect father. I could never claim to be. Justin is not a perfect son. He can be cold and calculating and manipulative. He often thinks only for himself and not of the bigger picture as a king must do. He is young and brash and full of an undeserved sense of accomplishment. But he still grabbed my finger and held on, and I will always hold on to him.”

  The King looked up at us for the first time since we’d followed him into the throne room. “I consider both of you my family. The other sons the Queen could not give me. I am asking you to save your brother and bring him home so that I may remind him of the time he held on to me because I was the only thing in his world. I ask that you bring him home so I can make him a better man. To be the King I know he can be.”

  Ryan stood up straight and balled his right hand into a fist, bringing it up and across his chest, pressing it over his heart. “On my honor,” he said. “I will bring him home.”

  Kiss-ass.

  They both looked at me.

  I narrowed my eyes at the King. “You can’t go around telling emotional stories like that and calling me your other son the moment before we leave! I need to stay here now and make you cookies and have you tell me you’re proud of me and call you Dad Number Two and then let me paint a portrait of you standing in a field of flowers!”

  “You can’t paint,” he reminded me. “The one time you tried, the subject of your painting looked more like a kraken then a human.”

  I scowled at him. “Artistic impression. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Philistine. And maybe the subject had krakenish qualities.”

  “She was an eighty-year-old grandmother named Matilda.”

  “It wasn’t that bad!”

  “The curator of the City of Lockes art museum demanded it be burned because it was an assault to all five senses,” the King reminded me.

  “All five?” Ryan asked. “How is that even—?”

  “He used tomato paste when he ran out of red,” the King told him. “And then he left it out in the sun for two weeks.”

  “It had to dry,” I said. “And I was fourteen! I was still discovering my hidden talents.”

  “Some talents should remain hidden,” the King said wisely.

  “You should remain hidden,” I said. “Just for that, I am not even going to stay and make you cookies and paint a portrait of you. We are leaving immediately and you’ll never get to experience the wonder that is a Sam of Wilds original. Serves you right.”

  “He showed it to the woman he’d painted,” the King said to Ryan. “Matilda called for a priest to exorcise it and then she fainted.”

  “That wasn’t my fault,” I said. “She overreacted. Who knew eighty-year-old women could be freaking drama queens?”

  “You ate part of it in front of her.”

  “It was performance art!”

  “You can still call me Dad Number Two,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s certainly up in the air. Gods. You tell me sad stories as if I don’t already feel guilty enough and now I just want to do everything you ask of me to make you happy. This is so lame.”

  He pulled me into a hug.

  “Cheater,” I mumbled and I hugged him back.

  “There’s no guilt here,” he said quietly. “You did nothing wrong.”

  I snorted. “That’s certainly not true.”

  “It is to me,” he said and godsdamn him and his awesomely devastating sentimentality. It made me want to make promises I didn’t know I could keep.

  But I said them anyway. “We’ll get him back.”

  He pulled away and smiled at me. “I know you will. And when you come home, you’ll be here to stay, okay? I have half a mind to lock you up in a tower as it is to keep you safe.”

  “I’m not a princess.”

  He shrugged. “Close enough.”

  I loved my King very much.

  WE STOOD at the castle gates, a large crowd of well-wishers gathered around us.

  The sun was shining overhead. Fat clouds dotted the sky. There was excitement in the air. We felt young and alive and things were happening.

  Pete said, “Don’t die.”

  “Thanks, Pete. I can now go with my head held high.”

  “No, but, like, for real. Don’t die. I would be sad.”

  “Your sincerity is heartwarming.”

  “It’s what I’m here for. You better be strolling triumphantly back here as soon as you can, you got me?”

  “I got you.” I glanced back at my merry little band of travelers. A hornless gay unicorn. A half-giant. A knight who was a jerk but that I wanted to have for breakfast.

  “And let the adventure begin!” I crowed and the crowd cheered. Streamers fell and flags flew and people shouted our names.

  “Wait,” Gary said, and the crowd stopped cheering. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot to pack my scarves. We can’t leave yet.”

  “Why do you need scarves?” I asked.

  Gary glared at me. “You know how my mane looks when it gets windy. I refuse to have a bad mane day just because you can’t hold your horses.”

  “Oh my gods.”

  “Was that racist?” Ryan asked. “Hold your horses. That was racist. Am I right?” He elbowed Morgan. “Right. Racist.”

  We all slowly looked at him.

  “What?” he said, sounding defensive. “Whatever. I don’t know how the whole horse racism thing works!”

  “That much is obvious,” Gary said, voice dripping with disdain. “And I bet you would be just fine with me having wind-rape hair!”

  “Wind-rape hair?” Ryan asked my parents.

  “It’s a thing,” Dad said.

  “Gary’s very sensitive about it,” Mom said.

  “Pete, can you go get his damn scarves?” I said. “He’ll never let me hear the end of it if you don’t. I can only imagine how the next six months will go.”

  “Yes, Pete, be a dear would you?” Gary asked. “I surely wouldn’t want to be a bother to Sam. I’m only carrying his possessions on my back. I’d like the
one with the star pattern, the silk one we got in Forakesh, and maybe the Hydanic one. But heavens, that one is more of a fall scarf, and we certainly wouldn’t want me to wear fall in the spring—”

  “Gary!”

  “Okay, fine! Pete. Just… grab them all. I’ll make decisions as we go. Though no one should ever have to make scarf decisions on the fly. That’s just preposterous.”

  Pete went back inside.

  Ten minutes later.

  “AND THE adventure begins!” I said again. The crowd clapped. It wasn’t as jubilant as before. Fuck them.

  We made it two steps.

  “Did you pack the hoof pick?” Gary asked.

  The crowd sighed.

  “No,” I ground out. “I don’t have hooves. Ergo, it’s not my responsibility.”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t think of it,” Gary retorted. “I was too busy doing lunges to make sure I was strong enough to carry all of your shit on my back like some common pack mule! And you know how my hooves get. I may be a strong, independent unicorn, but I have delicate hooves that must be properly taken care of lest they begin to hurt. And you know how I am with hurt hooves.”

  “Trust me, I know. The bitching never stops.”

  “Then why are you still talking about it?”

  I ran my hand over my face. “Pete.”

  “Yes, Sam.”

  “Could you please get Gary’s hoof pick?”

  “Yes, Sam. Sam?”

  “Yes, Pete.”

  “You should probably stop grinding your teeth. That’s not healthy.”

  “Thank you, Pete. I wouldn’t have known otherwise.”

  He walked away, muttering something about snarky apprentices.

  Five minutes later.

  “AND THE adventure begins,” I muttered. A few people clapped. Most just stared.

  We made it three steps.

  “Tiggy,” Gary called. “Oh, Tiggy. Did you remember to pack your pajamas? You know you can’t sleep without your pajamas.”

  Tiggy’s shoulders slumped. “I forgot,” he said.

  “Pete.”

  “Yes, Sam.”

  “Tiggy’s pajamas.”