Milo let go of the tree, backed away, and dug the beacon crystal out of his pocket.
“Come here,” he said. “I’m going to hold this crystal, and I want you to put your hands over mine.”
“But Milo…”
“We have to,” he said. He had never seen his sister look so terrified. “Mom is up there, in Astros. Who knows what they’ll do to her? We have to help her.”
“But what can we do? We’re just kids.”
“We won’t be kids forever. Didn’t you hear Dad? We’re special. In the car, he said you were a seer. Somehow you knew those Dark Acolytes weren’t following us anymore. And when they killed Dad—didn’t you see that fireball? It was like I . . . Whatever it is, we have to develop it!”
Emma looked down at the crystal in his hands.
“Maybe we’re meant to find Mom,” she said.
Milo met her eyes. “Maybe more than that.”
The crystal felt warm against his palm. Emma put her hands over his, and her skin was cold and clammy.
“We’re going to call Asceranon,” Milo said, “whoever that is. I think he can help us.”
“OK.” Emma closed her eyes. It was dark beneath the branches. The leaves rustled, making a mysterious sort of music. “I’m ready.”
They repeated the name together.
“Asceranon, Asceranon, Asceranon.”
They took their hands away at the same time. In less than a second the crystal had become hot enough to burn. It fell to the ground, making a ring of sparkling green light that flung shadows from each blade of grass.
The twins watched as a beam of that same light shot up into the leafy canopy.
“It’s a signal,” Emma said. “We have to bring it into the open.”
Milo reached down to pick up the crystal. He yanked his hand back with a hiss and wondered how it was possible for the crystal to feel so hot when only five minutes earlier his hands had been wrapped in flames.
“It’s too hot. I’ll kick it.”
He motioned for Emma to move out of the way, then took a few steps back, readied himself, and ran forward. He sent the crystal flying into the open field like a miniature comet.
When it finally settled in the grass, the beam shot up into the sky and pierced the yellowish clouds like a glowing vine pulled perfectly straight.
“What if they come back?” Emma said, as she and Milo stepped out from beneath the canopy.
“They haven’t yet. Besides, Dad wanted us to use it.”
“Dad,” Emma said, looking back at the tree. “He’s gone.”
Milo put his arm around her shoulders. “He was a demigod. Maybe they don’t really die.”
“You think he’ll come back?”
He looked out at the distant hills, aware of the truth but not wanting to dishearten his sister. He remembered clearly the way his father’s eyes had looked in those final moments.
“I hope so,” he said.
Chapter 15
The carriage, blurry behind the morning clouds, resembled a strange-looking airplane at first.
The twins stared at it for a while, expecting it to keep going until it had disappeared from sight. The crystal shot its beam into the sky as it had been doing for almost thirty minutes. They had begun to lose hope.
But the strange shape in the sky did not disappear. Instead it turned and came closer, flying at a downward angle much like the levathon had flown before Kovax zapped it. Milo and Emma watched it come closer and closer, though the morning was too dark to see if the levathons pulling it were black or white.
“What if it’s them again?” Emma said.
Milo scowled. “It better not be.”
He remembered the fireball. He wasn’t sure if the spell had come from him or if someone else had cast it. Until the day before, he hadn’t even known magic existed.
The crystal blinked and went out.
They heard horses whinnying. It was a carriage pulled by four levathons, their white coats bluish in the morning dimness. A heavyset man sat with the reins in his hands. He had a mane of white, wavy hair and a plush white beard that fell over his barrel chest.
“Out of the way,” he said in a bellowing voice.
The carriage rushed by the twins, casting a wind that pushed them back a few steps. The levathons rotated their wings backward to grab the air and slow down. Upon landing they eased into a trot, hooves clomping against the grass.
“Santa Claus?” Emma said.
Milo peered at the man. “I doubt that.”
The man, who was now standing in the carriage and examining the field around him, really did look like Santa Claus. He hiked his robe over his feet and stepped out of the carriage with a grunt. His sandaled feet sank an inch into the squishy ground.
“Ah, the mud, the wretched mud. This better be good, whoever you are. Pulling me out of bed at this hour. It’s still dark where I come from.”
The twins stared up at the man. He was a full foot taller than their father had been, practically a giant. His white hair and beard poured down around his head and chest like a collection of rumpled silk sheets. Dressed in a long, thick robe, he looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed. When he saw Milo and Emma, he shaded his eyes and peered at them.
“What are you kids doing playing on a field all by yourselves? Where are your parents?”
“The crystal,” Milo said. “My dad—he told me to use it to call for help. He said a name, Asceranon.”
The man’s eyes went wide. When he spoke, his beard quivered.
“Asceranon. How do you know that name? Who is your father?”
“Maxwell Banks,” Milo said. “Wait, no—his name is—was—Maximus.”
“Maximus,” the man said, bending forward to get a better look at the twins. “Maximus, son of Sargos? You can’t be serious. Where is he?”
He rose to full height and looked around.
“He’s dead.” Emma folded her arms across her chest and shivered. “He got stabbed by a man who could turn into a giant scorpion. And then a bunch of men with black wings took my mother away, and a magician named Kovax put her in his carriage and—and he kidnapped her!”
“Kovax. The emperor’s low mage. Did you say he killed Maximus?”
“They stabbed him with a black blade,” Milo said, turning his hands into fists, feeling a hot rush of anger as the words stabbed and blade fell from his lips. “The blade—it was made from something called Tiberian steel, and it was dipped in some kind of blood. The magician called it a demigod killer.”
The man took big, quiet steps toward them. Emma backed away and hid behind Milo.
“It’s all right, little one.” He hunkered down so he could look at their faces.
“Can you help us?” Milo said. “We need to find our mother. We have to tell her what happened to my dad.”
The man thought for a moment. One of his bushy eyebrows twitched a few times and stopped.
“You say Maximus and Zandra were your parents?”
Milo and Emma nodded.
“Well, that makes you two very special where I come from. It’s the reason those men were after you. What are your names?”
“I’m Milo.”
“And I’m Emma.”
“And I,” the man said, “am Asceranon. But everyone calls me Ascher.”
He rose and let out a deep sigh that blew Milo’s hair back.
“Maximus was like a brother to me. I’m sorry to hear of his passing. The blade that killed him is very hard to come by, but it’s the only metal capable of piercing the skin of a Sargonaut, even one as strong as your father. I’m terribly sorry.” His voice wavered as if he were holding a great pressure inside his chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I—I need a moment.”
He turned and walked a ways down the field until he was no more than a huddled shape against the grass. Milo and Emma watched him sit. A moment later, they heard his mournful sobbing. His shoulders heaved up and down. They even saw him strike the ground with his fist. He
cried like that for several minutes.
When he came back, Milo and Emma were sitting on the ground next to each other and wiping their eyes in silence. Ascher kneeled before them and put his hands on their shoulders.
“Children,” he said, sniffling, “you must listen to me. The world you grew up in can no longer be your home. Kovax and his men can find you down here, and if that happens, they’ll take you to the emperor to be enslaved or killed.
“Maximus saved my life once, as he has saved the lives of many, and I promised to help him if he ever needed it. Now that he’s gone, I’ll take care of you as best I can. It’s the least I can do. But you have to come with me now and promise you’ll do as I say until we get this all figured out.”
His wide, clear eyes searched their faces for a response. Milo looked away. He could hear the levathons snorting and kicking their feet into the ground. One made a whinnying sound and shook its mane of snow-white hair.
“Where are we going?” Emma said.
“To my ranch. It’s an orphanage my wife and I started for Godkin children like yourselves—Astrican kids who grew up in the human realm. You can stay with me as one of my own. My kids will enjoy the company. And you can meet my levathons. I’ll even teach you to ride them.”
He looked at Emma and wagged his eyebrows. Emma’s face brightened.
“I get to ride one of those horses?”
“It would be my pleasure to teach you,” Ascher said. Then he whispered, “And don’t call them horses. It offends them.”
“But what about my mom?” Milo said, anger rising in his voice. “I don’t care about levathons right now. We have to find her.”
“That’s right,” Emma said. “What if they hurt her?”
“Kids, right now the best I can do is keep you safe from those hunting you. And don’t worry too much about your mother. The worst that can happen to her is the emperor forces her into marrying him to dishearten the rebels. It’ll take much more than that to break her, though. Understand?”
Emma nodded. Milo stared at a patch of grass and imagined lighting it on fire with his eyes.
“So they won’t hurt her?” Emma said.
“I doubt it. Your mother is very strong.”
He held out a hand and helped them both up to their feet. Then he led them across the field to the carriage. Ascher got in first and reached down to help them up.
“Got your seatbelts on?”
The twins searched until they found the seatbelts. They were white and shiny, like jewelry, and came together with a hard clack.
“Now the top parts,” Ascher said. He reached back to help them with overhead belts that reminded Milo of the safety harnesses on a fast-moving carnival ride. “There we go.”
They held on tight as the carriage began to accelerate. The sound of horses’ hooves thudding against the earth was shockingly loud, though soon they were moving so fast that the whistling air drowned it out.
They angled up toward the azure sky, the ride becoming smooth once the wheels lifted off the ground. The beating of the levathon’s wings against the air sounded mythic, as though they were not flying upward but back, way back into some distant past when spirits roamed the earth and magic was real.
Ascher looked back at them, his hair and beard trailing like white fire. He nodded as if to say, Get ready, and then he pulled on the reins, causing the levathons to lift one wing and lower the other. The carriage veered to the left.
Then Ascher pulled something out of a pocket in his robe. His sleeves flapped in the current as he held it out and pointed it up at the sky. A crystal, like Milo’s except that this one was white and semitransparent, like an icicle. Ascher spoke a few words that were lost in the wind. Then a ray of light shot forth from the crystal and cut a jagged white mouth across the sky’s face.
The seam opened, revealing white light that shone as if Heaven lay beyond, and there were things to be seen in that light; huge, colorful things that were hard to make sense of because the light was so powerful. The twins leaned forward in the carriage, eyes widening despite the brilliance. It looked like mountains and rivers, and they were sparkling…
“Astros,” Ascher said, “realm of the gods.”
The light swallowed them and everything was white and silent—and still.
PART II
ASTROS, OVERWORLD
Chapter 16
Emma awoke to a cool breeze caressing her face.
Ascher sat at the front of the carriage, bringing food to his lips from a small bag on his lap. It made a crunching sound as he chewed. Around them, there was nothing but clear blue sky. Emma took off her harness and pulled herself up so she could look over the edge. She tried not to disturb Milo, who was snoring next to her with his hands up by his face.
The carriage was so far above the ground that all she could see were mountains and endless green fields split here and there by thin blue wires of river. A flock of birds passed beneath her, as small as a handful of white sprinkles someone had thrown through the air. She gasped and fell back against her brother, who awoke with a start.
“Dad?” Milo said, blinking and looking around.
“Sorry. Just me.”
He didn’t seem to notice Emma.
“It wasn’t a dream,” he said, taking his harness off with hurried movements. He pushed himself up so he could peer over the carriage, then let out a gasp much as Emma had done and fell back in his seat.
Ascher let out a good-natured laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”
He pulled the reins, turning the carriage in a forceful way. The twins felt their insides shift as they veered onto a different course.
“We’re running a little late,” Ascher said over his shoulder. “We’ll have to take the highway.”
Strapping their seatbelts back on, Emma and Milo both said, “Highway?”
The experience of getting onto the highway was one they did not want to relive ever again, at least not with Ascher driving. He shifted the reins over to one hand and used the carriage’s steering rod—a long pole connected to harnesses worn by the levathons—to make them fly at a downward angle.
The carriage joined what at first appeared to be six long lines of multicolored boats swimming in pale mist. The lines ran parallel to each other and were going in opposite directions, three on one side and three on the other. The closer they came, the more Milo understood Ascher’s use of the term “highway.” This was indeed a highway, but without roads or signs. Levathons pulled small and large carriages, many of which were outfitted in bright colors and patterned fabrics, all of which swam in a fine mist.
Ascher joined one of the lines, but not without causing some of the other drivers to shout in protest. His carriage swung left and right like a fat man trying to squeeze through a tightly packed crowd, and as he sped up, passing the others, Milo and Emma held on tight and took in their surroundings.
The drivers looked like ordinary humans, except many of them wore robes and hoods or, if they were younger, colorful cloaks and neckbands. Metal circlets resembling crowns of leaves glittered on the foreheads of white-skinned young people with fair hair. A few of the carriages were richly adorned with golden vines against white, silky tapestries that flapped in the current.
Some of the poorer carriages were made of wood, and the levathons were ill groomed and grimy. The men driving them wore simple cloaks and tunics. Rich or poor, they all wore fabrics that flapped in the current like a thousand flags caught in a windstorm. There seemed to be many more poor than rich.
“Greetings,” Ascher shouted, waving one of his giant hands. He was waving to a large woman with extravagant curls of light-brown hair all over her head and shoulders. Her carriage, in all of its shapely extravagance, was straight out of Cinderella.
“Why, hello darling,” the woman said over the wind. Loose jowls of skin hung from her arm and swished back and forth as she waved.
They flew like that for what felt like an hour, and then, suddenly,
the carriage veered to the right, away from the highway.
“How much longer?” Emma shouted into the wind.
“Not long,” Ascher said. “I had to open the rift far away from the ranch in case we were being followed. Don’t worry, though. We’re safe.”
The air was clear and they could see for hundreds of miles all around. A mountain range stretched along their left; a dense and jagged accumulation of rock so immense that it seemed as though a planet had been broken up into sharp pieces and pressed into the earth. To their right lay an endless ocean of pure, sunny blue.
The mountains and the ocean were not as impressive as what lay directly ahead.
Back on Earth—or, to be exact, the human realm—Milo had seen pictures of Rome with its domes and arches and pillars, and had always been fascinated by the city. He used to tell himself that when he had his own money and freedom, he would to take a trip and explore every last bit of architecture, every sculpture, every painting that Rome had to offer.
But this wasn’t the Rome he’d seen in pictures. As he gazed down at the massive, sprawling city, he felt something leap in his chest. The sheer size and complexity of it—the countless buildings, the neat grid of streets, the aqueducts running throughout—made him gasp in awe. Emma noticed and also let out a breath of sheer admiration.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“So white,” Milo said, “and big.”
At the center of this massive, gray-white city sat an elliptical amphitheater, much like the coliseum in Rome and sort of like the football stadiums back on Earth. It was a giant, circular building made of concrete with tiers of seats around a central open area, and looked big enough to seat a million people.
The carriage was headed right for it.
“Where are we going, Ascher?” Emma squinted at the man.
“The Elysarian Amphitheatre,” Ascher said, chest puffing up with emotion. “Used to be the pride of Astros.”
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