by Tony Abbott
Eric turned. “I have to go.”
“No,” Keeah said, with a gasp. “No —”
“Neal is right,” said Eric. “You’re seeing Gethwing’s power right now. Look at him!”
One after another, Gethwing’s black wings unfurled themselves and caught the wind. His great arms bent back to their positions and thickened. His claws gouged the stones. His horns grew tall and curved once more.
And he climbed still higher.
“If I can discover that prophecy,” Eric said breathlessly, “we stand a chance. Droon stands a chance. That’s why there were five days. That’s why he didn’t attack Jaffa City right away. A prophecy must come true first. A prophecy must come to pass in him. It happens in two days, and I have to be there.”
Neal was unable to take his eyes off the approach of the dragon. The tower shook from side to side.
“Look,” Eric went on, “I said I’d hold him off, and I will. But he won’t be defeated today. Thanks to Neal, I understand why. The Medallion is part of the final battle. But I have to follow through, or nothing we’ve worked for will happen. We have to have someone near him. We have to have … me.”
“But, Eric,” Keeah said, her eyes moist with tears. “How can we let you leave us again? We won’t let you. I won’t let you.” She put her hand on his arm and held tight.
“You have to help me,” Eric said, placing his hand over hers. “If you keep asking me, I’ll come with you. But everything will be lost.”
Neal thought of Eric’s parents, how they missed their son, and he knew their pain because it was his own.
Julie’s face was wet with tears, too. “It’s so hard to hear you say this….”
Eric shook his head. “We haven’t seen how hard it will be. Even with all of us, even with the Moon Medallion. Even with Galen and all the millions of Droon helping, Gethwing can still win. He will win, unless I am with him. Two more days are all we have.”
Pulling away from his friends, turning his face away from their faces, Eric bowed his head, donned Ungast’s purple helmet, closed his eyes, and breathed once.
To Neal, seeing Eric leaving them once again hurt as much as it had the first time. No … it hurt more. He wanted to hold Eric back from what he was going to do.
But he knew he had to let him go.
It was the pain Zabilac had told him of.
The pain that hurt beyond hurting.
The pain that would help.
Eric closed his eyes — as much to stanch his tears as to call up a power — and began speaking ancient words, and he grew into the dark armor once more. He looked as Prince Ungast had looked moments before.
Halfway up the tower, Gethwing howled. “Ungast! Dearer than my own son to me!”
“You’ve given me the strength,” Eric said to his friends, donning his helmet. “Now you’re going to have to be strong. I want you to push me off the tower.”
“You want what?” said Keeah. “No —”
“It’s too tall,” said Dumpella. “You’ll never survive.”
“You have to,” Eric said. “And it has to look real. He’s coming. Push me. Push me!”
“If this is what being the genie king means, I don’t want it,” said Neal.
“Yes, you do,” said Eric. “We need you, Neal. Droon needs you, King of Genies.”
Neal remembered seeing the handprints on Gethwing’s wheel of life. And he knew with certainty that one of them was his own.
The dragon was close enough to see them now. “Ungast!”
“Sorry about this … ,” said Eric, his eyes flashing as if in anger, though in his heart Neal knew it was the opposite.
With Ungast’s sword raised, Eric leaped at Keeah. Neal had no choice but to block the thrust. He lunged at his friend and knocked him down with the lightest touch he could manage. It was enough.
Taking one more roll than he needed to, Eric tumbled off the edge of the balcony.
“Noooo!” Gethwing wailed as the greatest jewel in his Crown of Wizards plummeted to the ground. With a show of his awesome strength, the dragon spread his wings, leaped off the side of the tower, and dived for Eric.
He caught the boy seconds before he struck the ground, then swooped back into the air.
As he did, Eric stared at his friends, the Moon Medallion safely hidden in the secret pocket of his cloak, next to the mysterious old photograph.
Two days more are all we have! said Eric. Find Galen! We need him now! Go. Go!
Gethwing swept up into the air. “Princess Neffu, wingwolves, join me now! We go!”
“No kidding!” yelled Neffu. “I’m not getting stuck here for a whole century!”
And go they did. With a whirl of black wind, the evil forces soared over the city and escaped as they had come, through the shattered force field.
“Ing go, too!” cried the baby hawk.
Ving and Ming scooped up their brother and flew away with the others.
Below, the six genies held hands in a circle and conjured the obelisk into place once more, sealing the Doom Gate as it had been.
“Whisper but the words, King Zabilac,” called Hoja, “and we shall come!”
With that, the six genies faded into ghosts of themselves and vanished as before into the fields of time.
“We must go, too,” said Max.
With few words, Julie, Keeah, and Max bade good-bye to Snorfo and Dumpella.
Neal took longer. For a moment, and another and another, Neal couldn’t manage to express his thoughts.
“A quiet genie,” said Dumpella. “I like that. I think I know what you mean. Don’t be a stranger.” She gave him a hug. A long hug.
“Time to go,” said Julie, pulling him away.
All together, they escaped the high purple walls, just as the City of Ut vanished into its bottle once more.
The windswept plains were empty now, except for thousands of hoof tracks and the giant boot prints of the Silversnow knights.
The battle had moved on.
Moments later, the sun sank behind the mountains, and the plains grayed in the gathering twilight.
“Two days,” said Neal. “We have our mission.”
“And Eric has his,” said Keeah.
“Let us meet in the morning,” said Max. “Farewell until then.”
“Tomorrow will come soon enough,” said Julie. “Neal, the rainbow stairs. Come on.”
As he raced Julie up the stairs to home, Neal felt that the secrets of Droon were more numerous and tangled than ever before. The stakes were vast, and danger approached from every direction.
But in his heart, his pained heart, Neal knew the solution was coming.
It was coming fast.
“Look there beyond those dunes,” the dragon told his rider. “Another fire. Another victory.”
As Gethwing’s four enormous wings, black and ragged as ripped fabric, lifted him high over the world of Droon, Eric Hinkle forced himself to look down.
Beneath the twisting plumes of smoke below stood a tiny village cradled among vast dunes of sand. Until it had been abandoned and burned, the village had been the home of the purple Lumpies and their beloved ruler, Khan.
Eric’s heart ached as they swooped low over the crumbled huts, and then soared high again.
Beyond the desert village, he spied a range of hilltop settlements sprinkled among the Dust Hills of Panjibarrh. Also in flames, also uninhabited, they were all that remained of the Oobja people’s royal homeland.
“Good work,” Eric managed to say, nearly choking on the words. “Really nice.”
“Indeed,” Gethwing said, banking so sharply over a range of pink mountains that Eric had to cling to the dragon’s horns to keep from falling. “A great day shall soon dawn for me, and for you, Prince Ungast.”
Prince Ungast! Eric thought disgustedly. How I hate that name!
Not long before, Eric had been wounded, cursed, and transformed into his evil twin, Prince Ungast.
Though he had been cu
red, Eric had stayed in disguise, hoping to bring down Gethwing from within the dragon’s beast-filled ranks.
Now only Ungast’s ill-fitting purple armor stood between him and Gethwing’s terrifying wrath.
“More fires!” the dragon said, swooping over a string of burning villages. “Our war is nearly complete. Soon, we enter the final day.”
Gethwing’s ultimate battle against Eric’s beloved Droon was only three and a half days old, but already fires had destroyed its major cities, and heaps of rubble were all that remained of great palaces.
Knowing that a scant thirty hours remained until the predicted final siege on Jaffa City, Eric was frantic to stop the dragon.
If Gethwing could be stopped at all.
In the last few hours Eric had learned that the dragon was not simply a monster possessing power rooted in Droon’s earliest days.
Gethwing was much more.
Gethwing was . . . immortal.
“And there,” the dragon said. “Let us take a closer look at that lovely . . . destruction.”
As if drawing a map of invisible lines from one conquest to the next, Gethwing veered away from the pink mountains to a valley clouded by the densest smoke.
“Such fine flames,” murmured the dragon. “Don’t you think, Ungast?”
“Oh, you bet,” Eric said.
At first, Eric had been stunned to learn that Droon’s enemy could not die. But it made sense. Countless times over his long life, Gethwing had been attacked, wounded, cursed, thought near death, and yet each time the Moon Dragon had escaped his end.
The reason was simple.
According to Eric’s genie friend, Neal Kroger, Gethwing could never be defeated as long as his mysterious “wheel of life” continued to spin.
Fine, thought Eric. So he’s got a wheel.
Except that Gethwing’s wheel was hidden in a place called the Cave of Night, and no one knew where that was.
Still worse, Neal had learned that there was an ancient prophecy proving that Gethwing would never die, that he would rule forever.
As part of his big push to conquer Droon, the dragon had formed his Crown of Wizards — uniting under him the powers of the sorcerer Lord Sparr, the wickedly clever Princess Neffu, and Prince Ungast.
As long as the dragon believed Eric to be his second in command, the boy could work undercover to defeat him before Jaffa City — and all of Droon — fell.
All I have to do is discover the prophecy. Stop the wheel. Defeat Gethwing. End the war.
Not much. Just that.
Summoning his courage, Eric spoke.
“So listen, Gethwing, the big battle. How exactly will the whole thing happen —”
“Hush!” snarled the dragon. “Look there!”
Gethwing banked over what had once been the diamond-strewn Kalahar Valley — before a hundred thousand beast hooves had trampled it to little more than a barren wasteland.
“Not bad, eh, Ungast?” asked Gethwing, arching his head back at Eric. “My armies — our armies — are but hours away from complete victory in Droon. If the Forbidden City of Plud will be my new capital, perhaps Jaffa City can be yours. How does . . . Ungast Town sound to you?”
Eric’s throat tightened, his stomach turned. Ungast Town! Then he realized something. Plud had long been Lord Sparr’s home. In fact, it was one of the very first places Eric and his friends had ever visited in Droon. If Gethwing now wanted Plud for himself . . .
Eric suddenly sensed a second crack in the fearful Crown of Wizards.
“Plud, huh?” he said. “But what about Lord Sparr? Plud has always been his favorite city.”
“Sparr?” said Gethwing, soaring up again. “Sparr will join us after he finishes his siege of Zorfendorf Castle. And Neffu will meet us after her victory over the port of Doobesh.”
Eric tamped down his anger again.
Doobesh was a city ruled by King Jabbo. The pie-making king was one of many souls — thousands of them — loyal to Droon.
But good souls were not enough.
Eric knew that he and his friends could do only so much. His dream had long been to reunite the three sons of Zara, the Queen of Light. Only Galen, Urik, and Sparr together possessed the depth of magic needed to stop the dragon.
Yet Eric was aware that this was an impossible dream.
Zara had passed away centuries ago, Galen was missing, and Urik was lost in the sunless depths of time. Bringing them together, uniting them once more, was clearly impossible.
That leaves only Sparr, he thought. I need to turn him to our side. I have to make him join his magic to ours! We need more magic. We need as much magic as possible!
The dragon circled a nearby mountaintop and lighted on its barren peak.
An outcropping below was sprinkled with the remains of a groggle nest. Groggles were the flying lizards preferred by beasts. One old creature lay sleeping there. The others, Eric guessed, had all been recruited for the war.
“You can see much from here,” the dragon said, tucking his wings behind him.
Eric slid from the dragon’s scaly back to solid ground. It was difficult to do anything without Gethwing realizing it, since the dragon was as clever and brilliant as he was powerful. Yet Eric wondered if he could wrench a clue from Gethwing without seeming to.
“So . . . ,” he began.
“Ungast,” said the dragon, letting his eyes play over Eric’s face. “Prince . . . son . . .”
The word made Eric tremble, but he caught himself and turned away, lest the quaking of his chest inside his breastplate betray his fear.
“Dad,” he said with a smirk.
“You jest,” said the dragon. “I do not. These next hours will cement our lordship over Droon. There are secrets about me that no one knows. Neffu and Sparr are essential to this attack, yes —”
“Sparr,” said Eric, seizing on the name and removing his helmet. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him.”
“Yes?” said the dragon.
“It’s just that Sparr has gone back and forth, hasn’t he?” said Eric. “I mean, sure, since we started the Crown of Wizards, he’s been working hard to help us conquer Droon. But sometimes, well, you know, he goes back to them. The kids. He helps them. He’s kind of a question mark.”
Gethwing kept his eyes on Eric’s face. “Is he?”
“Maybe I should check on him,” Eric said, averting his gaze. “Make sure he’s with us. For the final attack.”
Gethwing glanced toward the horizon in the far west. The sun was setting, its final rays as red as blood. “Like a good boy checks on an aging relative. How touching.”
“I mean, I don’t want to,” said Eric, trying not to show eagerness. “I just think I should fly over to Zorfendorf and see how his siege is coming along. To keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s with us.”
Gethwing nodded. “Of course, of course. My Crown of Wizards is vital for our victory.”
For a few moments, as the sun dipped below the sea and the sky flared redder than red, no one spoke.
“But afterward?” said Gethwing finally. “On the field of victory, some thirty short hours from now? Not all shall remain. I know this because of . . . because of an ancient prophecy.”
So? You want to talk about it? Then let’s talk.
“You’ve never told me about a prophecy,” said Eric, as casually as he could. “So I really wouldn’t know.”
Gethwing took Eric’s gloved hands in his own enormous claws. “The words were spoken on the night of my birth. They were inscribed in stone that very hour. After centuries, those words are now being fulfilled.”
The dragon paused, staring into Eric’s eyes. “Five shall pass away, four shall wear the crown, three shall fall, two shall rise together . . .”
Silently memorizing the words, Eric waited, but the dragon said no more.
“Interesting,” Eric said. “But what about the one? Isn’t there something cool about the one?”
“The five that shal
l pass away,” Gethwing said, dismissing his question, “are the cycles of Droon’s millennial calendar. Five have come and gone since I first breathed. The four that shall wear the crown? These are the four in the Crown of Wizards — Sparr, Neffu, you, and me. I formed the Crown because of the prophecy.”
Okay. That makes sense. Go on . . .
“Of the three that shall fall,” Gethwing said, “Emperor Ko and Queen Zara are two of them. Ko fell to his death. Zara has long since passed away and lies entombed.”
Zara! Why you —
Eric suppressed an urge to strike Gethwing with his sword. “And the two and the one?”
“Of the one,” the dragon murmured, “let us simply say that it speaks of the end of days, and burning and ashes, and, well, you will know soon, Ungast. The world will know soon. Both worlds! Far more interesting are the two that shall rise together. For they are standing on this mountaintop right now.”
A surge of excitement coursed through Eric’s veins, but when it fizzled in an instant, he knew that Ungast was truly a thing of the past. “But really. What about the one?”
Gethwing’s jaws twisted into a smile, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “All will be known when the time comes.”
Really? thought Eric. Are you telling me that you don’t actually know what the prophecy means? Seriously? That’s like only knowing half of it. Then, good! What happens to “the one” will be a surprise to all of us — especially to you, dragon!
An icy wind swept across the mountaintop, and Eric hunkered down in his armor.
“Get used to it,” Gethwing said, his eyes scouring the passes below. “We will walk in a place far colder than this before the final day is over.” Gethwing waved his claws wide.
A place far colder than this? Is that a clue?
“Until then, take this,” said the dragon, slipping a studded bracelet over Eric’s wrist. “Use it during these final hours. Use it against your enemies. Including those you think are closest to you.”
“But I’m only going to see Sparr,” said Eric. “There’s no danger of enemies.”
“Nevertheless,” said Gethwing, removing his claws from the bracelet.