by Aaron Ehasz
“Don’t worry,” Callum said. He ignored his growling stomach and turned back to his sketch pad. He decided to draw something a bit safer this time, the stone from Claudia. He pulled it out of his bag, sketched out a circle, added a few forking jags of lightning, and then went to work shading the swirling clouds.
“Hey, what’s that you’re drawing over there?” Rayla leaned over Callum’s shoulder. “You’re a talented artist.”
“Oh, not really,” Callum said. “I just … I draw. It’s what I do. I draw when I’m stressed, I draw when I’m happy. Right now, I’m just trying to draw this … primal ball.”
“Primal stone,” Rayla corrected.
“Right,” Callum said. “It holds the pure essence of a primal spirit inside.”
“Primal source,” Rayla said.
“Right.”
“You do know what the six primal sources are?” Rayla asked smugly.
“If I say yes, are you going to make me name them?” Callum asked. He was growing a little weary of this game.
Rayla motioned for Callum to hand over the sketchbook, which he did—cautiously.
“All magic in the world comes from the six primal sources,” Rayla began. “They’re the original and purest forms of magical energy.” She drew six runes on the page, one for each primal source. “The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth, the Ocean, and—?”
Callum looked at her blankly and Rayla tapped the stone in his hand.
“Oh! The Sky,” he said.
“Yes. To cast a spell, a mage needs primal energy. So that wind-breath spell you did? You’d usually need a storm, or at least a strong breeze. But with that stone, you have all the power of the Sky anywhere, anytime.”
“Wow,” Callum said. He couldn’t believe his luck.
“Primal stones are incredibly rare,” Rayla said. “They’ve been sought after by the most powerful archmages in history. And now … somehow you have one.” She raised one eyebrow and handed Callum back his sketchbook.
Callum studied Rayla’s rune drawings for a minute. Something looked familiar …
“Wait! I’ve seen these before,” he said. “At the Banther Lodge, our family’s winter home. These symbols were carved into this little … cube thing. What if that cube is magic? We have to go get it!” He grabbed his sketchbook and jumped up.
“Whoa, slow down,” Rayla said. “We have bigger things to worry about. Dragon egg, ending a war, remember all that?”
“Xadia’s to the east, right? So is the lodge,” Callum said, putting his sketchbook in his bag. “Isn’t that lucky? We can stop on the way.”
“Sounds great,” Rayla said. “I’m sure the lodge won’t be crawling with humans. Humans who are looking for you and who want to kill me. Yay!”
Callum stared back at her, confused.
“That was the humor again,” Rayla said.
“Oh.” Callum blushed. “Well, there won’t be anyone there. It’s the winter lodge. It’s been empty for months. Trust me.”
Rayla stared at Callum with her arms crossed.
Callum sighed. He’d have to plead his case harder. He couldn’t believe he was about to admit all this to an elf, but he figured he didn’t have much to lose.
“Look … Rayla,” he said, feeling the still unfamiliar name on his lips. “Princes are supposed to be good at things. Sword fighting, leadership, riding horses. But I’ve always been kind of bad at … well, everything.”
Rayla dropped her hands to her sides. “I’m listening.”
“So, when I tried that spell, I thought for sure I’d end up on fire, or covered in spiders—but it worked. And when you called me a mage, I thought … maybe that’s what I’m supposed to be. So, if this cube thing could help me learn more about magic, I—” Callum stopped. Rayla had an odd look on her face. Maybe spilling his life story wasn’t the best idea after all.
Nearby, Ezran stirred, and Callum jumped at the opportunity to move on. He knelt next to his brother.
“Hey, Callum, I had a weird dream,” Ezran said as he sat up. His hair was a tangle of twigs and leaves.
“It wasn’t a dream, Ez,” Callum said gently. “All of that was real.”
“Are you sure?” Ezran asked. “There was this giant pink hippopotamus, and I pulled its ears off. Because it was made of taffy.”
“Uh … no, that was a dream,” Callum said. “But the elves, the dragon egg, the smoke wolves … that was all real.”
“Then I tried to thank the hippo for the taffy,” Ezran continued. “But it couldn’t hear me, because I was eating its ears!”
Callum shook his head. His little brother was clever and imaginative even in his dreams.
“Hey, sad prince,” Rayla interrupted. “Let’s go get your cube.” She had pulled on her cloak and looked ready for a mission.
“Really?” Callum asked.
“Yes. Just please no more detours, all right? Or heartfelt speeches.”
Callum beamed. Then he grabbed Ezran by the shoulders and looked at the dragon egg between them.
“Ready to take this little guy back to his mom?” he asked Ezran.
“Yeah.” Ezran smiled.
Callum gave Ezran a final squeeze, took a deep breath, and glanced back at the castle. It would probably be a very long time before he saw his home again—if he ever did.
Hours later, Callum and Ezran trudged behind Rayla, trying to keep up with her pace. Callum wiped sweat from his brow, and Ezran paused to rest his head on the egg.
“I’m tired,” Ezran said.
“No breaks,” Rayla responded. “Especially not when we’re on a human-led detour.”
“But I’m really hungry,” Ezran said.
“No snacks,” Rayla said. She didn’t even turn around.
“I’m thirsty,” Ezran whined.
“No drin— Wait, actually, I may have something for that.” Rayla pulled a small glass vial from her belt. The bottle was filled to the brim with red liquid. Rayla held it out toward Ezran. “Drink it,” she said.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Ezran said. “Actually, I’m not that thirsty.”
“Seriously? I don’t believe you,” Rayla said. “You’ve been complaining all day.”
“It’s just that we don’t drink that …” Callum said, pointing to the crimson liquid. He was trying his best to be polite and respectful of other cultures.
“Drink what?” Rayla asked.
“You know …” Callum whispered the last word. “… blood.” He looked away. “We don’t mean to be rude, but, uh, you can keep it. The blood, I mean.”
Rayla stared at Callum. “It’s juice.” She handed the bottle to Ezran, still holding Callum’s eye. Ezran sniffed the vial and then took a sip.
“Is that what humans think we are? Bloodthirsty monsters?” Rayla asked.
“Wait … is that moonberry juice?” Callum asked. He felt a hot blush creep from the bottom of his neck to the top of his forehead. Why did he keep embarrassing himself in front of her?
“You learn fast,” Rayla said. Then her voice brightened. “What do you think of the juice?” she asked Ezran.
Ezran took another big slurp. “It’s refreshing, filling, energizing … and tangy!”
Rayla laughed and grabbed the vial back before Ezran could finish the whole thing off, and began walking again. “You thought elves drink blood. How ridiculous! I suppose we all got brought up being taught scary things about each other. I mean, I always heard you scary humans eat the flesh of animals. Crazy, right?” She laughed.
Behind her, Callum and Ezran exchanged a look. Callum raised a finger to his lips, and Ezran suppressed an awkward smile.
“Finally! We made it,” Ezran said. He pointed through a thicket to the enormous hunting cabin tucked near a wide river. The cabin was a two-story wooden A-frame structure. It looked odd this time of year with windows boarded up and the roof missing about a foot of pure white snow. A small fishing boat bobbed in the water near a tiny dock.
Callum fel
t a little spark in his step now that they were so close, but Rayla grabbed his elbow and held him back.
“What is it?” Callum asked. “See? No winter, no humans at the winter lodge.”
“I still don’t feel good about this, so let’s make it quick,” Rayla said. “You both wait here. Just tell me where the cube thing is, and I’ll be in and out.”
“Fine,” Callum said. “Let me at least draw you a picture so you’ll know where to find it.” He pulled out his sketchbook and made a quick drawing of one of the upstairs rooms. “This is a bedroom,” he said, pointing to a window on the second floor. “From that room, walk into the hall, go past the suit of armor, then the game room is the first door on your left. The cube should be in there, packed away in a toy chest.” He tore the picture out of his book and gave it to Rayla.
“I’ll be quick as lightning,” Rayla reassured Callum. She dashed off to the cabin with the drawing clutched in her hand. Callum and Ezran stood just inside the tree line.
“You know what’s weird?” Ezran asked.
“What?” Callum responded. He was watching Rayla swing herself up to the second floor and pry open a window.
“That there’s no one here, since this is where we were supposed to go last night. Where Dad told us to go.”
Callum grimaced. How had he not thought of that? “You’re right, Ez. We probably shouldn’t have come here. But she’ll be fast. We’ll be out of here before you can say—”
A bugle sounded in the distance, followed by the pounding thumps of galloping horses. A group of soldiers were making their approach.
“Come on!” Callum shouted. “We have to get inside and warn her before they see us!”
They raced toward the front door of the lodge, but when they got there, it wouldn’t budge. They turned around to face the approaching troops.
A legion of three dozen horses came to a halt directly in front of them. One rider, heavily armored and radiating confidence, dismounted. This was clearly the leader. An ornate helmet covered the warrior’s head. Callum gulped as the soldier put one enormous hand on the helmet and removed it.
“Aunt Amaya?” Ezran asked. Callum’s eyes went wide.
Aunt Amaya shook out her cropped, jet-black hair and brushed it from her face, revealing a long scar on her cheek. Amaya was the princes’ mother’s sister. She was a great general and a fearless leader, known across the land for her brilliant battlefield strategy and improvisation. And more important (as far as her nephews were concerned), she was known as one of the greatest breakfast chefs of all time.
She swept the boys into a bone-crushing bear hug and lifted them off the ground. But Aunt Amaya didn’t say anything to Ezran or Callum—she had been born deaf and signed to communicate.
Commander Gren, Aunt Amaya’a assistant and interpreter, dismounted and quickly ran up beside her. Gren was young, freckled, and a little awkward, but his sign language skills were impeccable. He stood up straight and got close to Amaya so he could see her hands.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she signed, once she’d let go of the boys. “You are safe, right?” Gren repeated the words out loud.
“Extremely safe!” Callum said, probably a little too forcefully. “Safe and alone.” He thought about Rayla searching for the stupid cube and filled up with guilt.
“Glad to hear it,” Aunt Amaya signed, but she gave him a weird look. “I received an urgent message from your father and I came as soon as—” Aunt Amaya stopped mid-sign. She scanned the front of the hunting lodge.
“That’s odd—I thought I saw something. Did any of you hear anything?” she signed.
Callum and Ezran exchanged a nervous glance.
“You mean like, a sound?” Ezran asked. “Because, then … no.”
Gren quickly translated, but Amaya ignored Ezran and marched to the front door. Callum tried to intercede.
“Oh, that door is locked,” Callum said. “You wait here for a minute, and I’ll go find the spare key.”
Amaya lifted Callum from underneath his armpits and put him to the side. With one swift move, she kicked the enormous double doors. They ripped from their hinges and crashed flat in front of her, spreading dust and soot in their wake.
“I don’t believe in locks,” she signed, and proceeded inside to the foyer.
The boys followed steps behind. Everything seemed to be in place. Hunting trophies mounted the walls, lush green and gold rugs covered the wooden floorboards, and the long staircase leading to the second floor looked just as it had in the winter.
Out of the corner of his eye, Callum saw Rayla’s shadow high up on the rafters. He prayed his aunt had been looking in another direction. She was standing perfectly still; only her eyes moved, flickering around the room.
“Someone’s here,” she signed.
“Whaaaat? No. It must be some disturbance caused by one of your HUMAN TROOPS!” Callum shouted toward the ceiling, not so subtly trying to warn Rayla.
“It looks like you’re shouting,” Amaya signed to Callum. “You know it doesn’t help to yell. I’m completely deaf, remember? And why are you saying, ‘human troops’ like that?”
“What do you mean?” Callum signed back to Amaya; he’d learned quite a bit of signing over the years. “That’s how I always speak when I say, ‘HEAVILY ARMED HUMAN TROOPS.’ ” There Rayla was, leaning against a slanted rafter, looking furious. Callum knew he had to think quickly. He grabbed his little brother and shoved him in front of their aunt.
“Aunt Amaya!” he said and knocked on her armor to get her attention.
Amaya looked down at Ezran, and Rayla seized the opportunity to leap to another rafter just out of sight.
“Ezran has something to tell you,” Callum said, hoping his brother might be able to come up with a suitable distraction faster than he could.
“Ummmmmm,” Ezran stalled. “I skipped breakfast. I’m sorry.”
Aunt Amaya frowned. As a breakfast connoisseur, she was offended that Ezran would neglect a hearty morning meal. Amaya had traveled the world and mastered breakfast tricks everywhere she had been. She could make muffins better than any baker in Duren and poach eggs with syrupy golden yolks like the farmers in Del Bar. When people skipped breakfast, Aunt Amaya took it as a personal affront.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” she signed. “You two, march yourselves into the dining hall and take a seat at the big table. NOW!”
As they marched toward the dining hall, Callum saw Rayla swing from another rafter and land lightly on the second-floor hallway. “Well played with breakfast,” Callum whispered to Ezran.
Callum looked at his hands nervously while Aunt Amaya rooted around in the pantry, opening cabinets and drawers, pulling out kitchenware and generally creating a ruckus. When she burst into the dining room she was holding several loaves of bread and wearing a wide grin. Gren followed quickly behind her.
“Well, the bad news is this bread is so stale … that it’s weapons-grade,” Amaya signed. She slammed a loaf on the table so hard the princes jumped. Amaya laughed.
“So, what’s the good news?” Ezran asked.
“The staler the bread, the greater the victory when I achieve my perfect recipe for Aunt Amaya’s Lost Bread,” she signed. “Gren, go secure the ingredients from the travel rations. You know what I need.”
“Of course, eggs, milk, salt and—” Gren said.
But before he could continue Amaya raised her hand to stop him.
“Oh, right. I almost said your secret ingredient out loud,” Gren said. “I’ll be more careful.”
When Gren left, Amaya sat down with the boys and started signing. Callum translated for Ezran.
“Aunt Amaya says she received a message from our dad yesterday,” Callum said. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he remembered the letter King Harrow had given him in the throne room. He felt around for the scroll in his pocket—but it was gone. Callum swallowed hard. King Harrow made such a big deal out of giving him the
letter and somehow, he had lost it.
“What’s wrong?” Amaya signed.
Callum shook his head. “Nothing,” he signed.
Amaya looked dubious but she passed Callum the letter she’d received, and signaled for him to read it aloud.
“ ‘General—the castle is under threat. Assassins have infiltrated the kingdom. Moonshadow elves.’ ”
At “Moonshadow elves,” Callum looked up—Aunt Amaya was scowling and shaking her head.
“They’re the worst kind,” she signed.
“ ‘Do not bring your forces to the castle,’ ” Callum continued. “ ‘Though I know you will think I am crazy, your orders are to proceed immediately to the Banther Lodge. Callum and Ezran will be there. Above all, see to it that my sons are safe.’ ” Callum put down the letter. It felt good that the king had called him his son.
“And so, that’s why I’m here,” she signed. “To ensure your safety. Why don’t you two go upstairs and play while I work on breakfast.”
Half an hour later, the boys could smell sweet sugary deliciousness wafting up from the kitchen into their bedroom.
“I can’t wait for this meal,” Ezran said. “But I think after we eat, we should tell Aunt Amaya about everything. About the dragon egg and Rayla.”
Callum shook his head. “She’ll never understand, Ez. Elves and humans do not get along, and that’s not going to change because some kids think it should. I mean, look at the toy you’re playing with.”
Ezran glanced down at the figurine in his hand. It was an elf—but it wasn’t. It looked nothing like Rayla. Its horns were disproportionately large and its four-fingered hands were oddly twisted. There was an angry grin on its face. The toy was monstrous.
Ezran sighed. Maybe Callum was right. But he could hardly think straight right now, he was so hungry.
“Lost Bread for Lost Princes! Come and get it!” Gren called up from below.
Ezran and Callum bolted down the stairs, grinning as they passed Aunt Amaya, who was on her way up.
Meanwhile, Rayla moved through the lodge, successfully dodging the many human troops investigating the building. Once the game room had been searched and marked clear, she slid into it silent as a cat, and closed the door behind her.