by Lisa McMann
Maiven took her dagger and sketched a map of her world in the dirt, putting it into four quadrants. Grimere, with the castle, city, and Dragonsmarche, was in the southeast quarter. The smaller village Thisbe, Fifer, and Seth had visited upon first arriving and searching for food and water was in the northeast quarter. These two quadrants were closest to the seven islands—the castle on the left and the tiny village on the right as one approached. Beyond them, the desert and cavelands where the ghost dragons roamed sat in the northwest, and the crater lake and vast land beyond where Ashguard had ruled was in the southwest. The great forest where the Artiméan rescue team had spent so much time was sprawled throughout the middle of the land, touching all four quadrants but much more heavily so in the northern two. Several rivers snaked through it.
“That helps me see it,” Florence said. “Thank you.” She studied it. “What is this land called?” she asked, pointing to the southwest, where Ashguard had ruled.
Maiven hesitated. “It was once part of Grimere. But the meteor that struck and created the crater lake divided the land, making it difficult to get to. One of the ruling black-eyed families lived in the palace—Ashguard Suresh and his kin. My family, the Taveer line, lived in the castle.” She paused. “To answer your question, the land of Ashguard’s palace doesn’t have a name any longer, as the family was all but destroyed and it’s a wasteland now. There may be one or two descendants among this group. I’m not sure if they even know themselves which family they came from. And it doesn’t matter. We are all one family now.”
Florence nodded. “I see.” After a moment she took hold of the box of provisions and pried the lid open. “It seems hollow of me to offer, since I am likely of no use to you in your situation. But if there’s any way we can help you, please let me know.”
“Thank you, Florence. I will.” Maiven began to hand out refreshments. “In fact,” she said, looking over her shoulder, “I’ll say it now. We will be needing your help.”
“Fair enough,” said Florence. “If we survive this, you shall have it.”
Maiven nodded regally, and the deal was done.
Florence called Thisbe, Fifer, and Simber to join her and Maiven. When they had assembled, the warrior trainer laid out her plan for attack. The five of them conversed in serious tones, working out the kinks and adding a few extra flourishes to Florence’s ideas. Even Thisbe and Fifer put aside their differences for the moment to discuss strategy. They ran through all sorts of scenarios, trying to find their flaws so they could fix them. By nightfall they felt they had a solid plan in place.
As the stars popped out in the sky, Florence brought everyone together, including the ghost dragons, for a final training session. Afterward she assigned duties to each of them and talked through what to do. Then she closed the session. “You all need sleep,” she said. “We’ll carry out our plans first thing in the morning. We can’t afford to wait any longer.”
Rohan and Maiven double-checked with the other children from Grimere to make sure they fully understood Florence’s instructions. Before turning in for the evening, Rohan found Thisbe reading one of the books she’d fetched earlier. He sat down next to her.
“Here,” said Thisbe, handing a second book to him. “We’re trying to figure out how to fix the tube system. We’re scouring all the books we can for clues. Would you mind looking through this one to see if there’s anything about tubes?”
“I’m not sure I know what I’m looking for,” said Rohan, whose only experience with a human-size transportation tube was the elevator in the catacombs, and that was hardly the same thing. “But it’s easy enough for me to skim and look for the word.”
“That’ll do perfectly,” said Thisbe. She smiled anxiously at him and linked her fingers in his. “We’re so grateful to you and the others for helping Artimé. You have no idea how distressful this situation is in our peaceful land. We’ve never seen anything like it.”
“There’s no need to mention it,” said Rohan. “Whether or not to help you was never a question in my mind. After what you did for us, it’s the least we could do. And we’re getting an excellent education in exchange. Like Maiven said, we needed to train before taking on the Revinir, and we can do that from a ghost dragon’s back or anywhere else.”
“You really are the best thing I’ve ever known,” said Thisbe.
Rohan smiled and his eyes misted. “You don’t know the half of it, pria.”
“You are my pria,” said Thisbe. She had an idea of what the word meant. She knew it was a term of endearment that Rohan had called her several times. The thought of her using it for someone felt bold. But Rohan was very dear to her, and that’s exactly what she wanted to express.
Rohan chuckled. “That is not the right word to use for a boy,” he said, his eyes dancing.
“What?” exclaimed Thisbe. “Why not? That’s silly. There shouldn’t be different words when the feeling is the same.”
“You have words like that in your language.”
Thisbe frowned. “Well, I’ll change them, then.”
Rohan tapped his lips. “Then call me pria, too,” he declared. “I’m pleased to hear you say it. And I agree,” he added. “I’d never thought about that before, but you’re right. We shall change the language one word at a time.”
“Yes!” said Thisbe. “Prias all around!” She leaned her shoulder comfortably against his, like they’d done so many times, and they paged through books under the light of a highlighter component.
Nearby, Fifer rested against Simber’s side, reading as well, but she’d been listening to their conversation. Occasionally she threw glances at Thisbe, who looked very comfortable with Rohan. It was strange to see her twin so close with someone Fifer barely knew, and it reminded her of how much the twins had grown apart since their separation. And Thisbe had just called Rohan the best thing she knew, which meant Fifer had been put upon a shelf—not a surprise at this point. But would they ever be close again, like they’d been before going to the land of the dragons? Or, because of everything, had Fifer somehow lost out on that… to Rohan?
Thisbe and Rohan’s clear physical affection for each other didn’t bother Fifer, really—she was merely curious about it. It definitely didn’t make her wish for someone to get cozy with. Simber was plenty cozy enough, and his stone side cooled her off when she got hot. He acted as more of a piece of furniture than someone to cuddle with, which was just fine, but emotionally, Simber was always there for her. She remembered the talk they’d had in the forest outside of Grimere after Alex’s death, when Simber had told her that he believed in her. That had been the beginning of a strong bond that only grew over time. Fifer didn’t need anybody else in her life if she had a companion like that.
There was one thing that Fifer thought was weird about Thisbe and Rohan, though. The two kept bumping elbows when turning pages, which was awkward. But neither of them moved aside to prevent it from happening again. If anyone ever got in Fifer’s way, she usually moved or gave them a look so they’d move. Was it odd not to like having people touch you all the time? It didn’t seem to Fifer like it should be. She liked having space. Maybe that was why she hadn’t enjoyed dancing with Seth at the costume party.
After a few moments puzzling over this new revelation, Fifer returned to the important task of reading. She studied long into the night, even after Florence suggested she get some rest. Eventually Thisbe and Rohan nodded off, and soon only Fifer and the two statues remained awake. Knowing that people trapped in the library were suffering, Fifer fought sleep and other distractions. She paged through book after book that Mr. Today had painstakingly written about his many-years-long process of creating the various pieces of the world that Fifer had taken for granted until now. She scanned a thousand pages for clues, finding a few sections about the tubes and where they led, but nothing on how they were created.
Just before she could fend off sleep no longer, her eyes landed on a paragraph that seemed important, even though it wasn’t abou
t the tube system. Fifer jerked fully awake and sat up, reading it again.
Simber turned his head expectantly toward her. After a moment she looked up. “Hey, Simber, Florence,” she whispered. “I think I found something.”
Florence glanced over too.
“It’s not about the tubes,” Fifer explained, “but it’s about the remote rooms. Apparently, because the kitchenette tube doesn’t access the remote rooms, Mr. Today created a magical passageway from the upstairs secret wing that leads to each of the remote areas—theater, lounge, and library. He wanted to be able to reach them in a hurry if necessary.”
Florence and Simber looked skeptical. “I’ve neverrr hearrrd of such a thing,” said Simber in a low voice. “Though it wouldn’t be the firrrst time I’ve discoverrred something new about the mansion. Marrrcus had his secrrrets—therrre’s no denying that.”
Florence came over to look at Fifer’s book. “There’s a passageway in the mage’s living quarters we don’t know about?” she asked. “I find that hard to believe. Simber and I know every inch of those rooms. The only hidden door I know about or have ever seen Marcus and Alex use is the one on the back wall of the office that connects it with the apartment.”
Fifer found the place in the book and read, “ ‘I made a mistake with the kitchenette tube, connecting it only to my distant friends and other places around the world. I forgot to add the remote rooms to that control system. Due to the intricacies of that particular tube’s design, it made more sense to simply create a different passageway from the secret hallway to the remote rooms so I could easily access them if necessary. As it turns out, I rarely use them, preferring to take the extra time to be visible and present in the mansion. I access those rooms now via the main tubes just like everyone else does.’ ”
Fifer looked up. “Do either of you have a clue what passageway he’s talking about? Maybe there’s a second secret door on the back wall of the office that we can find? Or inside the apartment somewhere?”
“Not that I know of,” said Florence, mystified. “But Simber would know the apartment better than me.”
Simber shook his head. “I can’t think of anything. I neverrr saw him use a passageway. Everrr.”
“Hmm,” said Fifer, studying the book again. “Listen to this. It’s a clue to locating it.” She hesitated, then continued reading.
Right is left and wrong is right,
stoop low to find the perfect height.
Tiny eyes will serve you well
To read your way into this spell.
“Right is left?” asked Florence. “What?”
Fifer muttered the first line a few times. “Does ‘right’ mean ‘correct’? As in, ‘correct’ is left? And wrong is right? Like there’s a left and a right, and he’s saying the one on the right is—” She stopped suddenly. “Oooh. Could it be?”
“Be what?” said Florence.
“Those doors? In the secret hallway?”
“Ah, Fiferrr,” Simber said slowly. “Yes, I think that’s it! I underrrstand now. That parrrt of it, anyway.” He narrowed his eyes in thought, then said, “The two doorrrs in the hallway that we’ve all passed by a thousand times and wonderrred what’s behind them. I’ll bet my wings one of them is this passageway he’s talking about.”
Desperate Times
While Fifer’s clue about the secret passageways was helpful, it didn’t solve anything. Even though it appeared from Mr. Today’s explanation that one of the doors in the secret hallway was this mysterious passageway he wrote about in his book, Simber, Florence, and Fifer still had no idea how to open it. Mr. Today had magically protected the doors in that hallway. He hadn’t given the actual magical password in this book, which was typical style for the late head mage. He obviously hadn’t wanted just anyone going anywhere they pleased without having to work for it. So that meant they’d have to find the proper spell on the door itself.
Simber and Florence knew that Alex had tried to open the doors several times over the years, with no success, but he hadn’t had this poem clue. And the part about tiny eyes? That was strange, and it clearly meant something. But what?
Chances weren’t great that they’d be able to figure it out in a short amount of time when Alex hadn’t been able to do it in years. But at least it was something to offer a glimmer of hope that their friends weren’t totally doomed. It was enough of a breakthrough for Fifer to call it a night. She needed rest to have a clear mind for the morning. With so many lives at stake, she couldn’t afford not to be at her very best.
She stowed her books and supplies in the Quillitary yard near everyone else’s, and hoped they’d all be alive to fetch them again when this was over. Then she lay down next to Simber and fell into a restless sleep, soothed by the sounds of nearby dragons breathing.
* * *
Before sunrise everyone was ready and anxious to go. Fifer had her hammock loaded with everything she needed, plus extra water for when, not if, they rescued the others. Her falcons flitted about, full of energy and eager to fight back against the ones who’d injured and killed their companions.
Florence, Kaylee, and Ishibashi planned to fly into battle on Quince and keep Ava and Lukas hidden on the dragon’s soft back. It was nice for Florence to finally have something big enough to support her size and weight. She’d ridden on Pan before, but she’d never flown, so this was a new adventure. Florence carried her quiver and magic arrows as well as a mixture of spell components. Kaylee and Ishibashi were loaded down with weapons, including swords, daggers, and the handcrafted throwing stars that Ishibashi had brought from his island.
Sky, with her sword, and Thisbe and Rohan with theirs as well as some components, climbed onto Simber’s back. And Maiven and the black-eyed children from Grimere took their places on Gorgrun. They carried melee weapons and whatever components they’d managed to learn in the short time Thisbe and Florence had been working with them. They also had their own fiery breath as an added secret weapon, which the dissenters wouldn’t expect. And though they couldn’t spray fire nearly as far as real dragons could, it was nonetheless dangerous. Slim lines of smoke drifted up from a few of the children’s noses and mouths in anticipation. Now and then, as they waited for the signal to take off, they turned to the side to breathe a warm-up round of fire. Their eyes were clear, free from all mind control. Their hands were quick, their heads steady, their insides confident. They were ready for this battle. No matter what happened.
Simber walked with his riders to Fifer in her hammock. “You should say something to everrryone,” he said in a low voice. “A speech.”
Thisbe frowned. Why her?
Florence glanced at Simber curiously, trying to read his expression. Then she nodded. “Yes, Fifer. Give us some wise words and encouragement to build us up in this dangerous situation.”
In the past, Fifer might have been struck with nerves and a feeling of inadequacy to do something like that. But not now. Not after all she’d been through. And not with Thisbe standing there—Thisbe who hadn’t just been singled out by Simber as a leader in this group. Fifer had led a group before, and the role had become so natural to her that she barely blinked.
“Everyone,” she called out, and waited for the group to quiet down and look at her. When they did, she continued. “Good morning, all. I hope you are feeling refreshed.” She hesitated, then dove in. “This is going to be difficult. Not only to succeed physically by taking back our land, but emotionally, too. This is a complex situation, fighting against our own people. No matter how mad they’re making us right now, they’ve still been a part of our lives for years, and this land on which we’ll be battling is our home.”
She paused, trying to find the words to emphasize how important everything was, and continued. “These factors can affect the way we make decisions. I think it’s obvious to the ones who call Artimé home that the mansion we remember is already in tatters, perhaps destroyed forever. And we will take the time to mourn that like we continue to mourn for
Alex.”
Thisbe dropped her gaze.
Fifer paused, taking a moment to be sure her voice was steady and strong. “But now we have to do our jobs without hesitation. Without backing down or being afraid to… well, to further destroy the possessions we love and the memories we carry. We’ll worry about restoring Artimé later. But for now, we must focus on the people. We must press forward knowing we have one chance to save them. Not just the ones who are physically trapped, but those who are emotionally or mentally trapped by Frieda Stubbs and her destructive words and deeds. We have one chance to take back the world that Mr. Today created for the Unwanteds—all of them, not a select few. We will not retreat!”
The group stood tall and cheered.
Fifer paused, letting the feelings of reassurance fill her up. “Also, let’s not forget that this battle is only half of our task. This attack must be swift and sure, like Florence said. We must overwhelm them from the onset and drive them out before they know what’s happening. Our friends are suffering, and time is of the essence.” That last part, “time is of the essence,” was a phrase Fifer had heard Maiven Taveer utter in the land of the dragons, and she’d liked the sound of it. “We must do what we need to do, and quickly. Is everyone clear on your tasks?”
“All clear!” shouted the group in one voice, which was a bit startling. Maiven had brought her military touch to this team in more ways than one.
Fifer’s heart soared. She felt an ounce of hope that their small, strange army had a chance against a group ten times their size. Then she, with a tightness in her throat, made a fist and tapped her chest twice. “I am with you.”
There was a split-second pause and a few strained looks. Thisbe stared hard at the ground, arms crossed. But then she and everyone else repeated the chest tap, some more heartily than others. With fervor, many responded to Fifer and all who surrounded them. “I am with you.”
It came out as a whisper for Thisbe.