The Passage to Mythrin 2-Book Bundle

by Patricia Bow

  “Is she... Has she...” Simon collapsed to the floor, panting, and crawled over to her.

  “She’s just the same. I’m scared she’s...”

  Simon knelt beside her, across from Ike. He held a hand close to her mouth. “She’s still breathing.” He touched her cheek. But so cold! “We’d better get her to a hospital. Call an ambulance. I’ll stay, you go. Hurry!”

  Ike sprang to his feet. He took one step towards the stairs, stopped at the sound Simon made, and turned back.

  Ammy’s eyelids flickered. Her eyebrows drew together. Her eyes opened. Simon let out a whoop. “You’re back!”

  “Yeah.” She sat up stiffly. Simon’s parka slid off her. “What’s this for?”

  “We had to keep you warm.”

  “Hypothermia,” Ike began.

  But Ammy wasn’t listening. She put her hands to her face and burst into tears. Ike stood back, appalled. Simon, kneeling beside her, had no idea what to do, so he put his arms around her and squeezed as hard as he could. It didn’t seem to help. She cried until she had nothing left but hiccupping sobs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  AMMY/AMELIA

  “Hey! Ammy, can you do this?” Ike skated backwards in front of her.

  “Go away, you’re showing off.” Amelia wobbled, flung out her arms, and just managed not to fall down, this time. Even Simon skated better than she did.

  Roasted chestnut and french fry carts stood around the edge of the town hall square. Smells of coffee and fresh baking drifted from the doughnut shop. The sound system was playing the Blue Danube. The fresh snow sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine and everybody had rosy cheeks, not that Amelia was a big fan of the healthy outdoorsy look.

  The rink was crowded, so there were plenty of people around to see what a dork she looked. If it weren’t for that, she might’ve had to admit she was having fun.

  Ike poked her in the arm. “I like the hair. It’s cool. Well, cool-ish.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Yesterday evening, after taking a three-hour nap, she had washed the coloured gel out of her hair. It was back to its plain old brown, mostly straight but curling a little around her ears and on her neck.

  “I like it,” Simon said.

  “The red and yellow wasn’t me.” She shrugged and nearly fell down again. Catching her balance she added, “It was what Mara said. A costume. A disguise.”

  Ike zoomed off again. Simon, wobbling along at her side, said, without looking at her, “So, do you really hate it here?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I could get used to this town.”

  “I don’t mean Dunstone. I mean Earth. You wanted to stay in Mara’s world and be a dragon. You only came back by accident, when the Assassin got you.”

  “How do you work that out?”

  “When you woke up, remember? I never saw anybody cry like that.” He kept his eyes carefully on the ice ahead. “I won’t forget how you made sure I’d get through. Even when it meant you ... you know.”

  “You mean, what I had to give up.” I spoke with dragons. I fought a dragon. I flew like a dragon. For just a little while, I was a dragon. Free, strong, magical.

  And it was all gone. Last night she hadn’t even dreamed.

  Amelia was tempted. She could let him go on believing it. He would owe her hugely for ... well, maybe the rest of their lives.

  She sighed. Not dragon material, me. “When I cried, that was for Mara. I missed her. I miss being a dragon too. But I’m back here because I chose.”

  “What, really?” He wheeled around, flailing his arms. His face lit up.

  “Believe me. If I’d stayed on Mythrin it would’ve been a disaster. I didn’t belong. Mara even said so.”

  “Mara said so? But I thought —”

  “She said I have to be true to my people. That means my parents, and Grandmother, and you, and even” — she tipped her head towards the skaters — “them too, I guess, people I don’t even know.”

  She waited for the big Aha, told you so. But it never came. Simon didn’t even crack a smile. He just nodded solemnly and wobbled onward.

  Go on, say it. You owe it to him.

  “And you know what? I’d still be there, if you hadn’t come in after me and tried to get me out. Sure, I would have figured the truth out after a while, by myself. But not till it was way too late.”

  “Oh. Good.” Simon allowed himself a small, pleased grin.

  “So, uh, I mean ... thanks.”

  There was something else she had to tell him, but before she could think how to say it, Ike came swooping in. He braked sharply in front of them, spraying ice. “Look, there’s a bunch of kids over there who’ll be at school with us on Monday. Let’s go over.”

  Amelia looked between the whizzing skaters to a cluster of kids at the other end of the rink. Two or three of them waved. She waved back. “Who’s the girl with the long black hair?”

  “That’s Dinisha.” Ike elbowed Simon in the ribs. Simon’s face went blank.

  “Friend of yours?”

  “Friend of Simon’s. She’s so smart she’s scary. I mean, her project on genetically modified food took first prize at the Science Fair last year, and she’s the captain of the girls’ track team.”

  Simon cleared his throat. “She’s nice, actually.”

  “Let’s go over. C’mon!” Ike zipped away.

  “You go too.” Amelia wobbled to the bench at the side of the ice and started unlacing her skates. “My fingers feel like icicles. My ankles hurt. I hate skating.”

  Simon dropped onto the bench beside her. “Scared?”

  She bent her head over the laces. Weird how they knotted just at the worst time.

  “Um, I bet Mara wouldn’t be scared.” He was unlacing his own skates as he spoke.

  She laughed shortly. “If Mara were ever afraid of anything, it would be this. Alone with strange kids at a new school.”

  “You won’t be alone, Amelia. You’ve got me.”

  She looked up from the knot. He gazed down at her, skate in hand, solid as a truckful of rocks. “I do, don’t I?” Then it hit her. “You called me Amelia!”

  “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes!” She worked off one skate, then the other, hauled her boots on, and laced them up with hard, determined jerks. “Okay, let’s do this!”

  She stood up, slung her tied-together skates over one shoulder, and settled her Peruvian hat on her head. As they started along the side of the rink together, she thought: I’ll tell him. Soon. But now’s not the time.

  Mara’s words hung glowing in Amelia’s mind. There are other doors, and maybe you will find them. You and... That was for the future.

  School, and Dinisha, and the rest of those watching, measuring eyes, they were enough to face for now. More than enough.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book’s gestation and birth were eased by the generosity of Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch (best of fairy godmothers) and the critical but kind attention of Erin Noteboom, as well as the Kidcritters of the CompuServe Literary Forum: especially Lynne Supeene, Amy Jones, Loraine Kemp, Rose Holck, and James Bow.

  WHAT’S HAPPENED SO FAR

  In The Ruby Kingdom (Passage to Mythrin, Book 1), twelve-year-old Amelia Hammer was sent to live with her cousin, Simon, and their grandmother, Celeste, while her engineer parents flew off to a six-month job in Peru. Dumped in tiny Dunstone, Ontario, in midwinter, Amelia expected to die of boredom.

  Simon wasn’t having much fun either, saddled with this sulky intruder in black leather and neon hair gel, but with the help of his best friend, Ike, he tried to make her feel at home.

  The night of Amelia’s arrival, they found Mara on their apartment roof, as if she’d dropped from the sky. Tall, proud, and fearless, she was also completely ignorant of the most ordinary things — like what clothes are for, and how to get water from a tap. Amelia instantly resolved to protect and shelter her. Simon reluctantly went along with the secret, but he worried Mara was mix
ed up in something illegal and dangerous.

  They began to realize just how dangerous Mara was when she tangled with the Assassin, a nice-looking gentleman apt to change into something slithery with razor-sharp claws.

  Mara’s true origin came out when Amelia, Simon, and Ike fetched her a library book. The library was in another world, and the three barely escaped with their lives. They learned that Mara was the young new chief of the Urdar, a race of powerful, winged shape-changers. She was exiled to this world by her upstart brother, who sent the Assassin to finish her off.

  As part of a plan to ambush Mara by stealing Amelia’s appearance, the Assassin tricked Amelia’s spirit out of her body and into Mara’s home world, where she was forced into the form of the Urdar. She soon took to her strong new body with enthusiasm. But Simon, who had grown fond of his difficult cousin, followed her into the other world, along the way saving Mara from the Assassin’s trap.

  Simon discovered that if Amelia didn’t come home soon, her human body in this world would die, and she would have to remain one of the Urdar forever. Being one of the Urdar was Amelia’s dream of freedom and excitement come true. She put off choosing until the last minute, when Mara’s people started to block the gate between the worlds. It was Simon’s only way home. Amelia flew him there just in time, only to find the Assassin, who bore a grudge, barring the way. She hurled Simon through the fading gate and turned to fight the Assassin alone.

  That sent Amelia on one more journey. With Mara as guide, she travelled the dream between life and death. Given a last chance to choose where she belonged, Amelia chose humanity.

  It was hard to say goodbye to Mara. A final goodbye? Maybe not. “There are other doors,” Mara said, before sending Amelia home.

  PROLOGUE:

  THE CHILDREN OF WAYLAND

  Long, long ago, in the springtime of the world, Adam was the first man. And Adam had two wives. Eve, who was human, had human children. But Lilith was half a demon, and she gave birth to dragons.

  The first of Eve’s children was called Wayland. He was a master of fire and earth, a builder, a swordsmith, a maker of clever tools. His half-brother, Wyrm, the first of Lilith’s children, was a master of air and water, a riddler, a shape-changer, a liar. And they were bitter rivals.

  One day Wayland the Smith took hammer and tongs and fire and made a device of great power: a strange and wonderful Prism. “This,” he said, “will be for my brother a sword in the heart, an opener of doors he can never close, a riddle he will never answer.”

  But as soon as the device was made, Wyrm knew it, and it filled him with fear and rage. He stole the Prism, for he alone among the dragons was able to touch it, and away he flew with it, east of the sun and west of the moon, and there he made a hiding place. And because he could not destroy the Prism, he disguised it. So even if someone finds it, said he, no one will know it.

  Years passed, and endless war raged between the children of Wyrm and the children of Wayland. The dragons grew many and strong, and the humans grew few and weak. And all for the loss of Wayland’s Prism.

  In those long years the story of the Prism was forgotten in the world where it lay hid. But in the world where it was made the story lived, and men and women saw the Prism in their dreams.

  They were the seekers. They sought the gates: the shortcuts from world to world, from universe to universe, built by a race that lived long ago, but since has vanished. Each gate they studied, and some they opened. Other worlds lay beyond, and into some they ventured. Always in hope of finding the one gate, the gate opening into that world, east of the sun and west of the moon, where Wayland’s Prism lies hidden.

  Years passed, and yet more years. The cities fell into ruin. Nations shrank to clans, wandering bands cut off from each other. Children were chosen, according to their gifts, to train as seekers, or weavers — those skilled in spellcasting — or warriors, protectors of all the rest. Each clan was led by a Triad of the leading Seeker, Warrior, and Weaver.

  They dwindled to a quiet and wary people clothed in the colours of earth and stone, the better to avoid being seen from the air. Always moving, always hiding. Seeking now not so much for Wayland’s Prism, for that had become a distant hope, but for gates leading to worlds where they might live without fear. And should a clan find such a gate, leading to such a world, they would send word to other clans if they were able. But often they were not able, for the dragons thronged after them, and they passed through the gate and sealed it behind them, for fear of pursuit.

  In the land of Cassar, Seeker Kwan found such a gate. After much labour he opened it, and passed through and explored the world beyond, to try if it was safe. And what did he find but a fair green valley, and sheltering hills, and golden plains beyond: and as far as the eye could see, not a single dragon.

  But he did not venture far from the gate, for time was short. On the home world, dragons were gathering, thousands massing on the cliffs round the deep glen where the Casseri had their refuge. The Seeker returned and told what he had found, to the great joy of the people. Kwan opened the gate and the people began to pass through.

  At that moment the dragon-storm broke. Many of the Casseri died, and with them the Seeker and almost all of his students. Only one seeker remained alive.

  CHAPTER 1

  PIER AND THE DRAGON

  Pier was sitting on the edge of a cliff, dangling her feet over the drop, when the dragon came.

  There was no warning — none at all. One moment she was half-dozing in the hot sun, a dangerous thing to do in that spot. The next moment a blood-red shadow floated above her head. Her hair blew sideways in a warm gust that smelled of cloves and sulphur. An enormous crimson dragon settled on the bluff beside her.

  All she saw in that first moment was a clawed foot bigger than her head, and on the thumb a ring with a fiery red stone. The foot was so close she could have moved her little finger and touched the nearest claw.

  A dragon wearing a ring? Pier stared at it numbly.

  She should never have been taken by surprise. Dragons, and the fear of them, had shaped her life. Dragons had driven her people from their old world to this one. A safe world, Seeker Kwan had said. But he’d been wrong.

  Pier had gone stupid out of sheer dead-tiredness, and that was how the dragon caught her. She’d had no real sleep for three days.

  The beast filled the space between her and the rest of the ledge. There was only one way of escape, and that was off the cliff. Bones would break, but worse would happen if she stayed. Pier leaned forward …

  Claws gripped her shoulder. No, child, said a voice in her head. We will talk.

  “Talk! To a dragon?” Pier was so shocked that her gaze flashed upward. She met the dragon’s eyes. A fatal mistake. You never, never looked into a dragon’s eyes. The youngest child knew that!

  She tried to look away, but it was too late. The dragon’s gaze locked on hers. She could not stir a muscle. The eyes were bright green, like emeralds with the sun behind them. They burned into her head, burned right through the light baffle spell she kept there. They read, they saw …

  The dragon screamed and Pier was free. The ledge emptied. A single red drop splashed onto a stone at the edge of the cliff. By the time Pier’s heart had thumped twice, the dragon was a jagged shape against the sunset. Then it dropped beyond the hills to the west.

  “Seeker! You are hurt?” Yulith bounded up the hill. Her arbalest already had another bolt slotted into place.

  “N-no….” A deep breath, then another, to quiet the trembling. “No. It never touched me.” She crawled back from the cliff edge, climbed to her feet, and bowed formally. “Many thanks to your fine aim, Warrior.” The weak spots in a dragon’s armour were few and small, and it took true skill to pierce one.

  Yulith bowed in return. Then she looked past Pier and her eyes widened. She stabbed a calloused finger at the cliff edge. “See, where it bled!” After thirty years in arms, the last ten as the Triad’s Warrior, it took a lot to make
Yulith sound excited.

  Pier knelt. A loose stone sat on the cliff edge. It was about half the size of her palm, pale grey like the rest of this ridge, smooth, and now printed with a star of shiny red that dulled and darkened in the sun.

  This must not be left lying. Dragon blood was rare and magical. Dangerous. She picked up the stone by the edges, careful not to touch the crimson star, and slipped it into the canvas pocket that hung from her belt.

  “Cunning beast!” Yulith scowled. “It must have slithered in low, close behind this ridge.” She jerked her chin at the Hall of Gates and the stony hillside behind it. “I will post watchers up there. We will not be surprised again.”

  Pier took one more look at the valley, with its sparkling little river. The breeze blowing from the east smelled of late-summer grass and apples. From here you could see, through the gap between the hills at the end of the valley, a silver line at the horizon that might be the ocean.

  It was all she knew of this world. Such a good place, it looked. Such a good world to live in. So they’d all thought for three wonderful days, until the dragons came.

  No children ran and laughed in the valley now. All the younger ones were safe in the caves. Weaver Gram and his apprentices were twining a baffle spell to hide the cave mouths. The warriors had gone back to shooting at targets, wooden disks tied to windblown branches, in the meadow beside the river.

  But everyone knew weapons and spells were not much good against dragons. They were just a stop-gap. It was time the Seeker got back to work.

  Pier started back towards the Hall of Gates, where their only hope hung like a dream, just out of reach. “You should take rest!” Yulith called.

  Pier just shook her head, and the Warrior didn’t argue. There’d been no rest for anyone since yesterday afternoon, when three dragons, black and bronze and green, soared over the camp, and then wheeled and flew back. They’d swooped so low you could see the muscles slide under their scaly skins.