by John Marco
“Slow down,” Moth cautioned again.
“Can’t,” said Fiona.
“You’re gonna fall!”
“Moth, we need to hurry. You need to hurry.”
Moth considered the distance ahead. It was hard to tell just how far away the mountains still were. He looked up just as a raindrop plopped onto his nose.
“Uh-oh.”
Fiona turned around. “What?”
Moth put out a hand to feel for rain. The gesture made Fiona groan.
“We should look for a place to stop,” said Moth. “Some trees, at least.”
“It’ll be dark soon,” said Fiona. “Those things will be looking for us. It’s not that much farther . . .”
“Fiona, we can’t make it, not when it’s dark. We can’t even see where we’re going! We could break a leg if it starts raining!”
Fiona pointed toward the mountains. “They’re right there!” she said. “Maybe a mile away. Just a few more minutes . . .”
“How can you tell that? You’ve been saying that for an hour.”
A thunderclap went off over their heads. Moth glanced around for shelter.
“There,” he said, spotting a clutch of nearby pine trees. “We can wait till the storm passes.”
“It’ll be too dark,” said Fiona. “It’s just rain, Moth.”
She was getting desperate. Moth was getting annoyed. “We can wait,” he insisted.
Fiona shook her head. “I’m going on,” she said, and started off again along the river.
Moth hurried after her. “Okay, so you’re testing me, is that it? You want to see if I’ll follow you? You told Merceron you wouldn’t leave me, Fiona!”
She whirled on him. “Moth, are you crazy? Merceron’s the one who left us! And you know what? He’s not coming back. He just said that so we’d leave him alone.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is!” Fiona railed. “Only you’re so trusting you can’t even see it! Nobody ever comes back, Moth. They just leave.”
A patter of rain struck her face. Fiona wiped it away.
“They just leave, Moth,” she said.
Moth jammed his hands into his pockets. He wanted to touch her, but all he could manage was a smile. “Hey, listen,” he said. “I never thanked you for coming here with me.”
Fiona had to swallow to keep from crying. “Yeah.”
“And I never said I was sorry for talking about how pretty that mermaid was.”
“Okay, yeah,” Fiona nodded. She took a shaky breath. “I gotta go now, though. I gotta get there.”
The rain came harder. Moth pulled up his collar. “Come on.”
This time he took the lead, trudging carefully along the riverbank with Fiona right behind him. He could get soaked for her, he decided. She needed him. They’d find the path together. They’d find the centaurs, too. And then Merceron would come back for them. Moth was sure of it.
“What’s that sound?” said Fiona suddenly.
Moth’s heart jumped. “What?”
Fiona cocked her head. “That. You hear that?”
Moth heard the wind—and something else. It was such a familiar sound, so much a part of his memory that at first he didn’t notice it. A hum and clang. A sound he’d always loved.
“Redeemers?”
Moth pointed across the sky. “There!”
It appeared like a ghost, the last bit of sunlight playing on its wings.
“A dragonfly . . .”
The craft buzzed out of the clouds. Behind it, blocking out the rising moon, floated a massive, black airship. Moth knew instantly it was the Avatar.
“That’s my grandfather,” cried Fiona. “He found us!”
They stood together, frozen by shock, watching the dragonfly bear down on them.
“This isn’t possible,” Moth sputtered. “They couldn’t have. How?”
Fiona regained her senses. “We’ve gotta run,” she clamored, pulling Moth along. “Run, now!”
“Fiona, wait!”
“Run, Moth!” cried Fiona. “I’m not going back with him!”
She was gone before he could answer, her booted feet slipping and sliding across the slimy rocks. Moth bolted after her. Behind them the dragonfly was gaining fast.
“Get away from the river!” he shouted. “Hide in the trees!”
“No! Don’t lose the way! We’re almost—”
Her voice disappeared. In a flash she was falling, tumbling headlong down the riverbank.
“Fiona!”
Moth slid down the bank to reach her. The current snatched her, dragging her fast. She screamed, gurgling his name, her red hair whipped by the swirling water.
“Fiona!”
He caught a glimpse of her thrashing arm. The wind swallowed her screams.
Moth ran. He fell, got up again, and stumbled over the rocks. The dragonfly closed in on him, the racket of its wings drowning his cries. He was trapped now but didn’t care.
“Help!” he cried. He waved his arms to signal the pilot. The dragonfly roared overhead, then jerked back around again. “Stop!”
Rain pelted Moth’s face as he stared skyward. The dragonfly descended loudly, beating the storm into a froth. There wasn’t time to explain anything. All Moth wanted was to find Fiona. The craft came down hard, nearly crashing. Moth didn’t recognize the pilot until the canopy popped open.
“Moth!”
Skyhigh vaulted from the cockpit.
“Skyhigh . . .”
Out of breath, too horrified to speak, Moth nearly collapsed. Skyhigh dashed over to him, grabbing his shoulders.
“Where’s Fiona?” he demanded. Moth pointed toward the river. Skyhigh’s eyes went wide when he realized what had happened. He shook Moth in a rage. “Why the hell did you run? I was coming to help!”
Moth couldn’t answer. All the emotions he’d pent up for days burst like a dam. “She’s gone!” he sobbed. Hot tears streaked his ruddy face. “Skyhigh . . . Fiona’s gone!”
TWO THINGS
MOTH STARED BLANKLY through the dragonfly’s canopy, watching the rain smash against the glass as Skyhigh piloted the vessel through the storm. The dragonfly pitched in the winds, straining to stay aloft. Ahead of them glowed the spotlight of the Avatar, the only visible cue they could see through the clouds. Below them the world had vanished, and Fiona with it.
They’d searched for her as long as possible, flying low over the rocks until the rain and darkness overwhelmed them. Finally, with the Avatar circling impatiently overhead, Skyhigh called off their search.
“Skyhigh?”
Skyhigh kept his eyes on the Avatar’s beacon. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry we ran,” said Moth. “I’m sorry for everything.”
Skyhigh worked the controls as though ignoring him. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I know. It’s not your fault, Moth.”
It was the kind of thing adults tell little children after they’d spilled some milk or broken a window.
“Fiona crossed the Reach because of me,” said Moth. “It is my fault. None of this would have happened if—”
“Stop,” said Skyhigh. “I know what you’re thinking, but maybe she’s okay. If she’s a good swimmer she might still be alive. In the morning we’ll look for her again.”
Moth tried to remember if Fiona had ever mentioned swimming in Capital City. Her pastimes were horses mostly. And museums.
“Skyhigh?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you gonna tell Rendor?”
“I’m not sure. The truth, I guess. Fiona saw us coming, so she ran.”
“She ran because she didn’t want to go back to him.”
“Was that a good decision or a stupid one?”
Moth leaned back, feeling woozy. “He doesn’t care about her. All he cares about is the Starfinder.”
“What is that thing anyway?” asked Skyhigh. “I still don’t know.”
“It’s the gift Leroux wanted to give me,” said Moth. “Esm
e brought it to me before we left.”
“Esme! Where is she?”
Moth hesitated. How much should he really tell Skyhigh?
“She’s safe.”
Skyhigh’s head turned a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s private, Skyhigh. I can’t tell you.”
“For crying sakes, Moth . . .”
“I’m sorry,” said Moth. “I can’t tell you because I can’t let Rendor get the Starfinder!”
“Starfinder, Starfinder! What’s the big deal? Let me see it.”
“I can’t,” said Moth. “I don’t have it anymore.”
“You mean you lost it?”
Moth shook his head. “No.”
“Fiona has it?”
“No.”
“Who then? Merceron? He’s a dragon, right?”
“Huh?” Moth sat up. “Who told you about Merceron?”
“No one. No one tells me anything! It’s just something I overheard. Does he have the Starfinder?”
“Skyhigh . . .”
“I know, you can’t tell me! Listen, Moth—I don’t care about the Starfinder. All I want is to get you home safe. Fiona, too. If you think I’m in cahoots with Rendor, then you just go ahead and believe that. I’m still your friend, no matter what you think.”
Moth leaned his head against the glass. “Everything’s gotten so messed up. But I have to protect them—Esme, Fiona, everyone. I can’t tell you any more.”
“You have to,” said Skyhigh. “If we’re going to find Fiona we need to know where you were heading.”
Moth looked away.
“Moth, c’mon . . .”
“Fiona doesn’t want him to find her,” said Moth.
“He’s her grandfather! He’s got a right to know what’s happened to her!”
“If she’s alive, she’s safe,” said Moth, hoping Fiona had somehow made it to the centaurs.
“That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Skyhigh shook his head in annoyance. “That won’t cut it with Rendor.”
Up ahead, the Avatar hung in the sky like a big, black moon.
An hour later Moth found himself in Rendor’s quarters, staring out a small, round porthole. The rain had stopped, and the wind had blown away most of the clouds. In the moonlight he could see the mountains again. The Avatar floated somewhere between the towering peaks and the rushing river far below.
Crewmen had brought Moth new clothes. Like the coat he’d stolen back in Calio, the plain shirt and trousers were too big for him, swimming on him like mismatched sheets. There was food, too, laid out on a table bolted to the floor. Otherwise the chamber was bare, the walls little more than metal struts and panels. A cot waited in the corner, fitted with clean, crisp linen.
Moth wasn’t hungry and he didn’t want to sleep. He just wanted morning to come, so they could look for Fiona again.
“Even if we had wings, some of us would be pigeons.”
Moth turned abruptly, startled to see Rendor stepping through the narrow doorway.
“Huh?”
The governor closed the door behind him. “It’s a joke someone told me once. Looking at you made me think of it.” He took a step closer, raising an eyebrow when he noticed the untouched food. “Not hungry?”
Moth shook his head. Rendor glanced at the cot.
“Did you rest at least?”
“This is all just a bribe,” said Moth. “It’s not gonna work. I won’t help you.”
Rendor hovered over the table. “Your friend Coralin warned me you’d be tart,” he said. He selected a piece of cheese, considering Moth while he chewed. “Leroux didn’t do you any favors. Did he at least warn you that I’d be coming after you?”
Moth crossed his arms. “You’re wasting your time asking questions.”
“Fine. Then just listen. You’ve made a right mess of things. You stole the Starfinder, made me come looking for you, and now my granddaughter is missing. She might even be dead.”
“I didn’t steal the Starfinder,” sneered Moth. “Leroux wanted me to have it.”
“Leroux was my friend long before you ever met him, boy. He was a good man but a great fool. All he ever cared about was getting Esme back to normal. And you’ve lost her too, haven’t you?” Rendor’s smile was caustic. “Like I said—a right mess you’ve made.”
He pulled out the chair next to the table, sitting down and studying Moth with his crazy blue eyes.
“The moment the sun comes up we’ll start searching for Fiona. It would help if we knew where to look.”
“She fell into the river,” said Moth.
“Only a fish can swim in that river, boy. By now it’s carried her into the rocks. Why were you heading for the mountains? What’s there?”
“Nothing,” said Moth. “We were just following the river.”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
Instead of looking at Rendor, Moth stared out the window.
“Keeping your mouth shut isn’t going to help Fiona. What about the Starfinder? Does Fiona have it? Or did you give it back to Merceron?”
Moth struggled to hold his tongue.
“All right,” sighed Rendor, slapping his hands against his lap. “You ask the questions.” He leaned back, tilted up his chin. “Go on. Leroux obviously kept you in the dark. Merceron, too.”
“They told me enough,” said Moth. “Especially Merceron.”
“Did he tell you how we helped him fight his war? That Leroux and I were the ones that smuggled the Starfinder out of here? That old beast owes me that at least.”
“All right,” said Moth. “I do have a question for you. Why’d you ever come here? Why’d you and Leroux cross the Reach together?”
“Leroux never explained it to you?”
“He never told me anything,” said Moth. “All he ever did was tell stories. I thought he made them up. He was old. He really didn’t have anyone. I always thought he told those stories just so folks would listen to him.”
Rendor actually looked sad. “Don’t blame him for that, boy. We were Eldrin Knights. We swore to keep our mission secret.”
“Mission?”
“To spy on the Skylords,” said Rendor. “To find out if they really existed and what they were like. But Leroux forgot the things we saw over here. I never did. Now tell me about the Starfinder.”
“Forget it,” scoffed Moth.
“You must have figured out how to use it. Otherwise you’d never have found Merceron.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”
“Not even the Skylords knew where Merceron was hiding. Only the Starfinder could have found him.”
Moth turned back to the porthole. “I’m tired.”
“Then sit down! I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.” Rendor gestured to the cot. “There’s something you need to know.”
Curious, Moth sat down at the edge of the bed.
“Two things,” said Rendor. “First, Merceron didn’t tell you everything about the Starfinder. Second, I think I know why you’re able to make it work.” Rendor grinned. “You do want to know why the Starfinder works for you, don’t you?”
Moth couldn’t help himself from nodding. “Yes,” he said. “Tell me.”
“I spent my whole life trying to figure it out. So did Leroux. So did Merceron.” Rendor laughed and clapped his hands together. “I can’t believe that old reptile hasn’t figured it out yet!”
“Figured out what?”
Rendor smiled and said, “That you’re a child.”
“What? I’m not a child,” Moth protested. “I’m thirteen.”
“It’s not about your age,” said Rendor. “Not precisely. It’s about what’s up here.” He tapped his head with his fingertip. “Your friend Skyhigh’s been telling me about you. He says you’re a dreamer. That you want to be a Skyknight, that you’re always looking up, head in the clouds.”
His accusation made Moth squirm. “I am going to fly one day,
Governor. Even you can’t stop me from that.”
Rendor waved off his words. “Being a dreamer isn’t an insult, boy. But when you get older things will be different. You won’t see possibilities anymore, just obstacles.”
Moth looked at him blankly. “Uh-huh . . .”
“You’re confused. All right. You like stories, so I’ll tell you one.” Rendor poured himself a cup of tea. “I had a brother named Conrad. He was four years older than me. I loved him. I trusted him. Anything he told me, I believed. When I was growing up, all I ever wanted was to fly. Conny knew that, so when I was six or seven he told me he was going to build me a pair of wings.”
“Wings?” laughed Moth. “I guess you weren’t a very smart kid, huh?”
Rendor set down his cup without taking a sip. “I was a genius, but that’s not the point. I did Conny’s chores for him, gave him my toys, kept his secrets—anything to get those wings. I believed. And because nobody told me I couldn’t fly, I just assumed that I could.”
“I get it,” said Moth. “Because I’m a dreamer I can use the Starfinder, right?”
“Maybe,” said Rendor. He shrugged. “It’s hard to be sure. But I bet Fiona couldn’t make it work, could she?”
Moth hesitated. He promised himself he wouldn’t answer any of Rendor’s questions. “Why not?”
“You know Fiona better than I do. You can answer that yourself.”
“Because she’s not a dreamer?”
“Because she has no faith. Because she doesn’t believe in anything.” Rendor pulled the watch from his pocket to check the time. Only he didn’t seem interested in the time. He just sort of gazed at it.
“What’s the other thing?”
Rendor blinked. “Eh?”
“You said there were two things you wanted to tell me about the Starfinder.”
The old man nodded. “Yes.” He slid his watch back into his pocket. “The Starfinder isn’t just a way of finding the creatures of this world. It doesn’t just spy on them. It controls them.”
“Controls them?” Moth shook his head. “No, that’s not what Merceron told me.”
“Merceron couldn’t tell you the truth,” said Rendor. “Not once he realized what you could do. The Starfinder lets the Skylords command the beings of the constellations. It’s like a leash around their necks. They can’t escape it.” Rendor’s voice got deep and serious. “I don’t know how it works,” he admitted. “All I know is what Esme told us. The Skylords use the Starfinder to force others to do their bidding. That’s what makes it so dangerous. Think about it, Moth. The Starfinder makes you as powerful as a Skylord.”