by S. G. Rogers
“Casey, what did you tell your parents when you left?” Jon asked.
“I didn't. My folks are intellectuals and they give me my space. Probably they think I'm holed up in a computer lab somewhere,” Casey replied. “They'll wonder about me, eventually.”
“Heck, my old man'll be glad I'm gone,” Fred mumbled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “He was plenty mad when I got expelled last year.”
“Expelled? I thought you'd been scouted for the Pacific High football team,” Jon said.
Fred shrugged. “It coulda been true.”
“My mom usually checks in once a week to make sure I've got enough money. She lives in Paris most of the time,” Brett said.
“Why does she travel so much?” Jon asked.
“She stayed home when I was little, but it really bruised her ego when Dad left. She used to be a big-time model in Europe. People remember her when she's there and take her picture and stuff. It makes her feel like she's still famous,” Brett replied.
“Being famous is overrated. I had my so-called fifteen minutes of notoriety this past summer, and it was enough for a lifetime,” Jon said.
“I fear you underestimate your importance on Yden,” Kira said.
“Don’t flatter his ego, Kira,” Fred urged. “His head might explode.”
“I don’t want to be important,” Jon said. “But I’m still glad there aren't any cameras, newspapers, or televisions here. It’s kind of restful.”
They departed the Two Moon Inn well fed and eager to explore the village for a few minutes. Ylan was a charming place with quaint, picturesque shops. The cottage rooftops were topped with hand-carved steam-bent shingles. As she passed a dressmaker, Brett stopped to stare at an elaborate gown on display. “That’s gorgeous. It’s fit for a princess!”
“The gown is indeed a pretty garment,” Kira observed. “But unless you’re prepared to ride your dragon sidesaddle, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Spoilsport,” Brett replied. “Don't you know fashion isn't always practical?”
From the lavish number of spells around town, Ylan evidently used to have wizards living there. The windows of a candy store showed tempting treats floating in lazy spirals and a hank of mouthwatering taffy pulling itself in a mesmerizing rhythm.
In each of the four corners of the central plaza were topiary bushes in the shape of animals. The topiary animals periodically changed their poses, as if they were living sculptures. Also featured was a spectacular fountain in which multicolored fish magically spouted from the mouth of a big leopard. Every few minutes, the water in the fountain changed its hue.
Brett clapped her hands. “Simply dazzling!”
“The magic in Ylan is wonderful. I'm very impressed,” Jon said.
Kira frowned. “Dorsit came from here. He had a whimsical nature. The magic is his.”
“I had no idea he was so talented,” Jon said, taken aback. “Your sister must miss him.”
“No. Kysandra married not long after he disappeared to a warlord of a small eastern territory. She’s happy,” Kira replied.
As Jon stared at the fountain, his face clouded over.
“What’s wrong?” Brett asked.
“It’s awful someone as gifted as Dorsit can’t perform magic anymore,” Jon replied. “Even if I manage to defeat Efysian, it won’t restore Dorsit to his former self.”
“You can at least prevent Efysian from draining anyone else,” Kira said. “I know Dorsit would consider that a worthy goal.”
On their way back through the village, a little brown bird began to circle overhead. When Fred put out his hand, the bird landed on his finger. “Look, he's friendly,” Fred said, delighted. “Animals usually don't like me.”
The bird swiveled its head around as it gazed at each of them in turn. Finally, it hopped onto Fred's shoulder and fixed its eyes on Jon.
“How curious,” Kira said.
“Too curious,” Jon replied.
“You think it's another spyrrow?” Casey asked.
“Perhaps, but it’s unlike any spyrrow I have ever seen,” Kira replied.
“Oh, c'mon, he's friendly is all,” Fred said.
“I don't like it,” Casey said. “He's staring at us.”
Fred’s brow wrinkled in annoyance. “You guys don't like him 'cause he likes me.”
Brett giggled. “Think again, Fred. The bird just pooped on your shoulder.”
Jon gathered a fireball in his hands. “Stand clear, everyone.”
Fred reared back. “What d'ya think you're doing?”
“When I give the word, Fred, grab the bird and throw it up in the air,” Jon said.
“No! Leave the little guy alone!”
Several people walked out of the Two Moon Inn at that moment and Jon was obliged to douse the fireball.
“What are you waiting for, wizard?” Kira asked.
“I can't be seen doing magic. We've got to keep this low-key,” Jon replied.
As soon as the villagers rounded the corner, he formed the fireball once more.
Casey snatched the bird off Fred's shoulder. “Got it!”
“Hey!” Fred roared.
“Toss that sucker as high as you can,” Jon said.
Casey threw the bird straight up in the air and Jon wound up a fireball pitch.
“Don't kill it!” Fred yelled.
He knocked Jon’s arm aside. The fireball careened off into the dirt at Casey's feet, singeing his tennis shoes. The bird flew away, unharmed.
“Darn it, Fred!” Jon said. He chased the bird with fireballs, finally nailing it with a changeup.
“Good pitch. You should consider going out for baseball next spring,” Brett said.
Unfortunately, the incident attracted the attention of several villagers, who stared and pointed at Jon.
“Your performance was fairly low-key, Jon,” Casey muttered as he stubbed his smoldering toe into the sandy dirt. “I don't think everyone in Ylan saw it.”
Jon advanced on Fred. “What’d you think you were doing? That bird was a spyrrow!”
“You don't know that for sure,” Fred shot back. “It coulda been someone's pet.”
“What I do know is a bunch of people just caught my magic act,” Jon replied. “Nothing like telegraphing to Mandral exactly where we are.”
****
In the throne room, Mandral, Aeltin, and Tyrg huddled over the spyball. At first, the glass orb showed Jon, Kira, Casey, and Fred. Moments later, Brett came into view.
“Kira,” Tyrg muttered, as he recognized Brett.
Mandral roared with appreciative laughter. “Good joke, Tyrg,” he said, slapping the minister on the shoulder. “Jon Hansen must have found a way to rescue his little yellow-haired friend. Now I understand why Efysian hasn't shown his ugly face around here lately. He lost his leverage.”
The warlord was so amused he didn’t notice Tyrg's eyes flashing with anger.
“Efysian believed that girl was the warrior maiden Kira?” Aeltin scoffed. “He’s not as clever as I've been told.”
Tyrg's lip curled, but his eyes remained glued to the spyball. The image lingered on Jon, who was wearing a white cowboy hat.
“What an odd head covering,” Mandral said.
“I wonder what it signifies?” Aeltin mused.
“The arrogant dragon whelp fancies himself an American cowboy,” Tyrg muttered through his clenched jaw.
Mandral and Aeltin exchanged a confused glance.
“What on Yden is an American cowboy?” Aeltin asked Tyrg.
Tyrg ignored him. Suddenly the images in the spyball became jerky.
“Wait…look!” Mandral exclaimed, right before the spyball went clear. “Ah, not again! Aeltin, do you know where they are?”
Aeltin examined his three-dimensional map. A slight puff of smoke arose over the southern part of the continent. “Er…they are to the south.”
“Anyone can see that, you dolt! Come up with something useful,” Mandral said.
/> “Ylan,” Tyrg snarled.
“Aeltin, direct the remaining spyrrows to Ylan,” Mandral ordered. “We must pick up their trail.”
“And make it quick, Falcon Clan wizard,” Tyrg snapped.
Mandral gave Tyrg a sharp glance. “If you continue to be unpleasant, Tyrg, I might just have to find myself another minister.”
Tyrg bowed. “I beg your pardon, Warlord. I haven’t been myself lately.”
****
The Yden suns were on their downward trek by the time Jon and his friends resumed their southbound journey. The red and green dragons looked magnificent against the backdrop of the cerulean sky. Several Ylan villagers pointed as Adam and Eve flew over their town. So much for keeping a low profile, Jon thought. Surely it won't be long before Mandral sends someone in pursuit.
The dragons crested one final hill and Ylan Bay spread out before them at last. The bay was an exquisite study in marine and aqua blue, dotted with fishing boats and several islands.
“It’s a nice view and all, but does anyone see a problem here, or is it just me?” Fred bellowed. “Which island are we going to?”
“There must be a dozen islands, at least,” Brett said, dismayed. “None of them small.”
“And no way to know which is the right one,” Casey said.
Jon scanned the bay. “If I were a hermit, I’d want to be as far away from other people as possible. Let’s try that one,” he said, pointing toward the largest island farthest from the shore.
As they flew out over the bay, Adam and Eve seemed to pick up speed. Their island destination had tall white cliffs softened by gentle waterfalls and lush foliage. A crater-topped peak thrust skyward at one end.
“That mountain looks suspiciously like a volcano,” Jon said.
“It is a volcano,” Casey replied. “Probably dormant.”
“Probably?” Fred echoed. “I sure hope you’re right. I don’t want to end up a crispy critter.”
“That’s not something you have to worry about, Fred. There’s usually a lot of warning when a volcano erupts,” Brett said.
“Tell that to Pompeii,” Fred replied.
Jon, Brett, and Casey stared at Fred in shock.
“How do you know about Pompeii?” Casey asked.
“What’s the matter with you guys? Don’t you go to the movies?” Fred asked.
There were several coves cut into the cliffs facing the mainland but no easy access to the island's interior. Adam and Eve circled to the far side, where the cliffs dropped away to a wide stretch of opalescent, white beach. At the end of the sand was a fantastic, manicured garden, dotted with statues. Jon directed the dragons to land on the shore.
When they were freed from their riding harnesses, Adam and Eve threw themselves onto their backs and wiggled deep into the hot, clean sand. Their eyes closed and they began a peaceful nap.
Brett laughed. “This must be dragon Nirvana.”
“Wow. Adam and Eve might be out for a while,” Jon said.
Fred trotted down the beach to look for tide pools, while Brett and Kira went to dig up a cache of seashells hidden in a patch of sea grass. As he gazed at the ocean, Jon had an eerie sense of déjà vu. He flashed back to the seascape in his father’s office.
“Is everything okay?” Casey asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s weird, but I know this place. I painted this view after I had an especially vivid dream, down to those palm trees and that rock formation.”
“Then we must be on the right track,” Casey replied.
They heard Fred calling. He beckoned everyone over to a large pile of wood. “It’s the wreckage of a small boat,” he said. “Someone made a one-way trip.”
“I don’t see any bodies or skeletons, so that must mean there are survivors living here,” Casey said.
“Not necessarily. Monsters could have eaten ’em,” Fred said.
“Someone had to plant that garden,” Casey said.
Kira climbed a dune to get a better look. “I see a great many more shipwrecks over there,” she said, pointing toward a rocky outcropping.
Jon was surprised at the number of abandoned or ruined boats, including dinghies, canoes, and fishing vessels.
“All these boats were beached here for some reason,” he said. “I wonder why?”
“It's a boat graveyard, but no people,” Fred said.
“This is kind of creepy.” Brett shivered, even in the heat.
“Kira, what do you know about this Quixoran?” Jon asked.
“Not very much. I know he was a good wizard,” she replied. “But he hasn’t been heard from in perhaps twenty turns or longer.”
“Not much to go on if we're going to find the dude,” Fred said.
“If he's here, I imagine he'll find us,” Jon replied. “Let’s check out the garden.”
****
The garden was immense, with several different kinds of fruit trees and flowers of all different shapes and sizes. Many of the hedges were clipped into geometric or other more whimsical patterns. They passed through an archway fashioned from honeysuckle vines.
Brett took a deep breath. “The fragrance is intoxicating.”
“Someone has been tending this place recently,” Casey said.
“Garden gnomes?” Fred suggested.
“It reminds me of an eighteenth-century chateau in France my mom and I visited once. I bought a postcard from the gift shop,” Brett said.
“Well, it reminds me of something out of Alice in Wonderland. Off with their heads!” Fred exclaimed.
Clusters of sculptures decorated the pathways and grassy lawns. Some were of magical creatures, but there were a great many sculptures of people.
“I can’t get over the number of lifelike statues,” Jon said.
“Well, at least we now know where the party is,” Fred said. When he poked a fisherman with his finger, it left a fading blue imprint in the stone. “Hey, look, it's a mood ring statue!”
“Thermochromism,” Casey said.
Fred gaped. “What?”
“The rock is heat-sensitive,” Casey explained.
Jon circled a statue of an old woman. “The level of detail is amazing.”
The central pathway through the garden featured a carving of a man on his knees. His arm was flung over his head, as if to ward off some unseen danger. Another man was prostrate on the ground. Brett frowned. “They look afraid.”
Jon exchanged an apprehensive glance with Kira. She drew her sword.
“Let’s head back to the beach,” Jon said.
“Sissies!” Fred said. He leaped over the prone statue. “Scared of a bunch of lawn decorations.”
Kira scanned the garden. “Perhaps it would be wise to fear their maker.”
“I say we just find this Quicksand guy,” Fred said.
“Quixoran,” corrected Casey.
“You have found him,” came a disembodied voice, old yet ageless.
Ophelia had given him no warning, so Jon was ill prepared to face a hostile wizard. He peered at his surroundings, but he couldn’t find the source of the voice. Neither could any of his friends.
Fred grew impatient. “Quit playing games, Mr. Q. We got something important to talk to you about.”
When no answer came, Fred glanced at Jon and threw his arms in the air. “Guess he's too chicken to show himself.”
A loud noise split the air, like the sound of a sledgehammer on rock. Fred gaped at his feet as they began to turn to stone. With a quick, crackling vibration, the stone spread up Fred's legs. It claimed his torso, arms, and head until Fred was finally immobilized in a perpetual, horrified shrug.
****
Mandral stuck dagger-shaped pins in the floating map of Yden. The first pin went in at his castle and the second marked Wolf Mountain. Mandral and Tyrg watched as miniature spyrrows converged on Ylan.
Aeltin burst into the throne room at a run. “It’s confirmed. I just heard a young wizard was seen in Ylan,” he sai
d, panting from exertion. “There was a mighty firefight between him and a phoenix. The wizard kidnapped several villagers and escaped amongst a flock of dragons.”
Tyrg picked up a third pin and stabbed it into Ylan. His finger traced a path down the river toward Ylan Bay. “Of course,” he murmured. “I’m an old fool.”
“Why is that, Tyrg?” Mandral asked.
Tyrg leaned on the table a moment, suddenly weary. Without another word, he plodded across the stone floor to the large double doors.
“Where are you going?” Mandral demanded. “I have plans to make.”
Offering no response, Tyrg left without a backward glance.
Mandral shook his head. “My minister has been acting quite odd.”