The Passage to Mythrin 2-Book Bundle

by Patricia Bow

  The dragon reached a long arm from behind Ike and took what he was holding. It was the burned-out Book of Lands that had once sat on a lectern miles away on this same world.

  This we keep. We do not want demons coming here again. The dragon’s pale green eyes moved from Ike to Simon and narrowed to slits. Go!

  Ike’s mouth dropped open. “But I only just got here! I can’t leave now!”

  “Ike! Shut up!” Simon waved a hand through the space between the trees, but felt only air, and nothing happened. He touched one tree trunk. Still nothing.

  “Maybe it’s too soon.” Ike sounded hopeful. He gazed up at the alien stars, took deep breaths of alien air, and smiled winningly at the dragon. “Maybe it needs time to recharge.”

  Simon glanced back at the dragon. Its eyes were shining. Its claws were flexing. This, he could tell, was one of the ones that hated humans. It just wanted one tiny excuse. He placed his hands on both tree trunks. “Please,” he said.

  “So, even with meeting my dad, and then Mr. Manning, it only took me forty-five minutes to get the book and bring it back and open the gate. And still I missed everything!”

  Simon looked towards the house at the front of the garden. “Mr. Manning? What about Mr. Manning?”

  “Seems he saw a lot of what happened. Zeph, and you with the Prism Blade, and then Pier leaving. When I got back I found him out here, looking at that trellis thing.”

  “He saw all that? And he was okay with it?”

  Ike spread his hands. “Don’t know. He didn’t say much. He looked kind of spacey. He found the base of the trophy, by the way, in the bushes where it fell. He took it inside.”

  The house was dark, and nobody stood at any of the windows. Simon wondered if Mr. Manning was lying down, trying to make himself believe that he’d had a really strange dream.

  “We’ll come and tell him all about it soon.”

  “Okay. I guess we owe him.”

  “And then we’ll work out how to pay for the cup.”

  Ike sighed and jingled some coins in his pocket. “I wonder how long it’ll take to pay for a really, really, really antique silver cup?”

  Simon rubbed his eyes and blinked at the dark garden. “If he lets us work off some of it, maybe before we start university.” He looked at his watch. The numbers “10:40” glowed on his wrist. “I guess we’d better get home.” He’d get an earful from Celeste. No hope at all that she wouldn’t notice how late he was, or how wet.

  Ike had also been looking at his watch. “Too bad about that Spacer 9800. We could use some serious computing power. I’m thinking the time difference between Mythrin and here is less than ten to one, more like 9.5 to one.”

  “I can’t think about that right now. Celeste is gonna kill me!” Especially if I come home and can’t say where Ammy is. “Ammy! Ike, you’d better go home. I have to wait for Amelia.”

  “I was going to ask.”

  “Mara gave her a job. She’ll be back soon. I hope.”

  Ike walked away towards the house and came back with two lawn chairs. He handed one to Simon and unfolded the other. “You can tell me everything,” he said, “while we wait.”

  CHAPTER 22

  FLIGHT TO THE SEA

  Amelia woke up in the dark. The sky was black overhead, grey near the hilltops. The ground under her blanket was cold and hard, and the damp had soaked through her blanket.

  She sat up and rubbed her back where a stone had made a dent. “Ow. Next time I want a real bed! Wonder what time it is.”

  “Time to rise and fly.”

  She looked up. “Ty!”

  “The one and only.” He lofted his shimmering blue-green mohawk and flashed a sharp-pointed smile. “Here’s ardin food and drink from Pier. Only a little. Too much is not good before a long flight.”

  He handed her a warm clay mug that breathed minty steam, and a thick piece of fresh-smelling bread folded around a chunk of strong cheese. She drank and ate gladly. “But what about you?” She waved the mug at him.

  “I have eaten.”

  “I mean, aren’t you hurt? What happened in that fight with Zeph? And, my gosh, that was incredible — how you came out of the sky like a lightning bolt! Are you all right?”

  He shrugged, enormously casual. “I am cool.” When he turned his head she saw a glittering blue-green patch over his right eye.

  “What happened to your eye?”

  “Zeph burned it. But it’s nothing, it won’t stop me flying. As for the rest — a few bumps and scratches. Pht!” he said, and made a tossing-away gesture. She wondered who on Earth he’d picked that up from. “I am soon as good as new. No, better. I fly with you this day.”

  “Uh-huh?” She studied him over the rim of her mug. “Did Mara say you could?”

  “She didn’t say I could not.”

  Ten minutes later they took to the air. Amelia used her clawed back feet to hold Wayland’s Prism so she could keep her hands free. And it was true what Simon had said: the Blade didn’t bother her. Not a bit.

  Early campfires sprang up in the dark valley that sank away behind them. Low hills rose against the yellowing east, with a gap where the little river ran through. Through the gap they flew, and out over the flatlands beyond. The sky grew brighter and brighter, and gold broke at the horizon, and the sea blazed.

  The sea! Ty’s voice in Amelia’s mind vibrated with excitement.

  Did you ever cross it?

  No. Only the exiles.

  Zeph?

  Not Zeph. Ty’s voice burned with contempt. He has run away. Now all the Urdar know what was really in his plan, and it’s good for him that he is gone. He would have had a choice: fight the chief or fly over sea.

  Suppose he’d fought Mara?

  He is strong, but too old. He would have lost.

  And then?

  Died. Or lived as a worm, with his wings bitten off.

  A crinkled strip of rocky ground passed far below, and then a ribbon of golden sand, and they were out over the ocean. The water changed from green to turquoise to blue to indigo as they flew. Amelia narrowed her eyes against the rising sun. So, what’s on the other side?

  Nobody knows. No exile has ever come back to tell. It may be that there is only one land, the land we live on, and the rest of the world is ocean.

  Exiles. Amelia felt uneasy. You realize they maybe never got to the other side? Maybe they all fell in the sea. Like Mara’s brother, that other time.

  Like my father, yes.

  Amelia’s mind churned with confusion.

  My father was the chief’s brother.

  Your own father! But … how could you …

  Father? That means little with us. Much closer is mother, even father’s sister. Besides, it is not so bad. Many of the older Urdar still think the chief is soft, allowing this. In the old days, traitors were simply killed. Besides, they are not many, and most are glad of the chance to challenge the sea. It would not be a shameful way to die. And there is always a chance you won’t.

  On they flew along the diamond track that burned across the sea to the sun. Glancing back over her shoulder, Amelia saw only a thin, dark line at the horizon.

  Soon, she said.

  Soon, but not yet. I have been this far, twice. I want to go farther.

  What were you doing way out here?

  Trying to see if I could fly over sea. A shrug in her mind. Think how cool, to find the other side and come back to tell of it!

  Yes, but …. Another glance back. The black line was gone. Only ocean lay below, only ocean behind and ahead and all around, as far as she could see.

  I am not a fool. I know when to turn back. I know when, if I fly farther, I might not be able to fly all the way back.

  Point of no return, Amelia thought. How far are we from there?

  We just passed it.

  What? Okay, this is far enough! She banked and started to turn.

  No, not yet! Just a little farther! Look, where the dark begins!

  L
ooking ahead, Amelia saw what looked like a long, black stain cutting across the shifting blues and greens and purples of the sea. A little nearer and she realized it lay far below.

  I think the sea floor cracks there, Ty said. I think the crack must go very deep. That is the place to drop the Great Bane.

  Too far. Turn now!

  No! Ty winged onward and she had to follow him. No way she’d let him go on alone. When the abyss gaped below she let go of the Prism Blade. The steel winked dully in the sun and then sparkled when it hit the water. It sank into the darkness and vanished.

  Without a pause, they veered in a wide curve and flew back towards land. Done! Ty crowed.

  Not much mind talk after that. Amelia knew only the steady beat of wings, the smooth glide of muscles, the rush of cool wind past her ears. Sea shimmering below, sun blazing above. I could fly like this forever.

  I, too.

  After a while the black line formed again on the horizon. Not far now, Amelia thought. Ty made no answer.

  The dark line of land thickened and grew bumpy. Nearly there.

  Ty dropped lower. His wings laboured.

  Ty! You okay?

  I’m cool. But sudden pain filled her mind. He’d been hiding that from her.

  Good as new, my foot!

  Keep going. I’ll follow. His right wing sagged at the end of each beat. It was pulling him down.

  Land was only a few minutes’ flight away. Too far. She would make it, but not Ty. Unless she could give him a shoulder to lean on.

  She swooped below Ty’s sinking body. Light down!

  I am fine. I don’t need …

  Sit! You idiot!

  He strained to beat onward. Kept it up for another ten strokes, twelve, fifteen. Then his wing muscles gave out, and there she was right below him. The sudden weight nearly sent her into the sea.

  Nearly. She strained up and away from the soaking whitecaps. Laboured onward. Beat, beat, on and on. Felt like lead weights were tied to her wings. Felt like her heart would burst.

  The hills loomed ahead. The shore gleamed golden. Nearer, nearer. And lower, lower. Spray spattered her body. All her muscles burned.

  Down and down and then, in a shower of sand and water, Amelia ploughed a trench at the edge of the sea. Ty fell off her back onto his side.

  They sprawled while the breakers washed the sand off them, then crawled a little higher on the beach and spread out their wings to dry in the sun.

  We made it! Amelia exulted. Ty said nothing.

  A little more rest and they took to the air, Ty in the lead, still without a word.

  Okay. Be like that. She boxed up her hurt so he wouldn’t know.

  An enormous crimson dragon lay, arms out in front and head up like a sphinx, on the hilltop above the gate trees. Ty and Amelia lighted down below the gate.

  When Mara shifted into human form and came walking down the hill in her jeans and sequined jacket, Amelia shifted too. She was back in the white shorts and glittery red T-shirt she’d worn all yesterday. They were filthy.

  She picked at the shirt. “Why can’t I shape clean clothes?”

  “That takes practice.” Mara smiled. “So you have done it!”

  “Yep! I don’t think anybody will ever find Wayland’s Prism again. Let alone get it up from where it is.”

  “And we will make sure no humans ever get near enough to search.”

  “But there are so many doors to Mythrin. How can you …”

  “We will find them all. That will be the great work of my generation.” Her voice was pitched to carry, and Amelia wondered why, until she saw Ty’s ears twitch. He was lying with his head on his forearms, still in dragon form.

  “What, all over Mythrin?”

  “All over. We cannot destroy them, of course, but we can bury them. Those that we cannot block, we will watch. This thing that we do with Pier’s people will be the beginning of the work.” She looked at Amelia. “And now you must go. You have done good service for us today, but Mythrin is still dangerous for you. Some dragons are just as stupid as ardini.”

  Amelia cleared her throat. “I want to say goodbye to Ty. But he’s mad at me.”

  “Him? He thinks he is shamed.” Mara laughed. “Young, vain, and stupid, that’s my brave warrior. All failings that time will cure.”

  Mara held out her arms and gave Amelia a hug that squashed out all her breath. Fly well, more-than-sister. Wherever you fly. Then she turned away and changed and lifted off on wide crimson wings.

  Amelia followed the dragon’s flight with her eyes and wondered if that was the last time she would ever see Mara. Or Mythrin. Mara hadn’t said so, not in so many words. But there had been a last-time feeling in the way she said goodbye.

  I won’t cry. I won’t!

  She looked around to pack it all into memory: the high stony cliffs in the west, the wiry yellow bushes underfoot, the silvery song of the little river, the smell of the air — so clean, she’d swear each breath carried extra oxygen to her brain.

  Next time she looked, Ty was still there, but he had shifted into his punk form. He was taller than before, she thought. His mohawk was certainly taller, and it glistened like peacock feathers. His boots were bigger, his spiked wristbands winked diamond-bright. The patch on his eye glittered like a jewel. He swaggered where he stood.

  “I owe you a debt, ardin child.” Stiff as a post. At least he was talking.

  “No you don’t. You’d have done the same for me, right?”

  “Of course! But —”

  “And guess what? I never expected you to be Superman! Because you aren’t!”

  Ty wilted. Suddenly, he was back to the size he’d been on Earth. “I am glad of what the chief said. About the work we have to do. I need this work.”

  “Finding all the gates. Right! I wish I ….” She sighed. Then looked at him. “I never thought you were stupid. And I do think you’re the bravest of the Urdar. Next to Mara.”

  His visible eye shone. “Goodbye, ardin child.”

  Amelia cleared her throat. She couldn’t say anything. She turned around and walked blindly towards where the two trees stood. Tripped on a rock, caught her balance. Found the gate right in front of her. A fingertip’s touch and it filled with sapphire light.

  The passage opened. She stepped forward and, between that and the next step, he brushed her mind, butterfly-soft. It may not be forever. My name is Tynenannarrithen. Look for me some fine morning.

  She was thinking about this when the passage tipped her out into moist darkness and the smell of roses.

  “Here she is!” Ike jumped up.

  Simon touched her arm. “Ammy, you okay?”

  “Amelia,” she said absent-mindedly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  Ike looked at his watch. “Yikes! It’s eleven-twenty!”

  “We’re dead.” Simon folded up his lawn chair. “Let’s get home.”

  At the corner of Elgin Crescent and Hill Street Ike stopped and said, “Hey! I forgot to tell you. About the Weird Games. Don’t you want to know who got the most points?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Simon sounded as if he was thinking of something else, too.

  “We did! You and me!”

  “Sweet. So we get the laptop?”

  “Nope. Mr. Manning said too many of the top results this year were suspicious. He gave it to the Gingrich kids. We beat Kevin Purcell, though. And we’re all going to get free T-shirts.”

  “Free DAWG shirts?” Simon sounded startled.

  “Yep. ‘Pick ’em up anytime,’ he said.”

  He waved goodbye and headed north-west. Amelia and Simon took the streets that curved down towards King Street and the river.

  “Did you get that job done for Mara?” Simon asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I see you don’t have the Prism Blade anymore.”

  “’Sright.”

  This late at night Dunstone was quiet and mostly dark. A car hummed on King Street. Voices murmured from a backyard nearby. G
lasses clinked. A dog barked farther away. The heavy trees went hush, hush, and the river sang its husky song in the gorge.

  The familiar sounds filled Amelia with an ache of happiness. She realized, with surprise, that she was glad to be home. With even more surprise, she knew this was home — this, and Vancouver too.

  And now I’ll have to get used to another home in Toronto. Just when I’ve finally got used to Dunstone. What a life!

  Then there was Mythrin. She looked up. A nighthawk’s circling squee, squee came to them from above the streetlights. She imagined being that bird, soaring in the sky above the sleeping town.

  So many things to miss. So many places and people.

  “What are you thinking about?” Simon asked.

  She looked around to find him watching her. Sometimes, like now, she had the feeling he understood her as well as she understood herself. Not that she understood herself all that well.

  “Wings,” she said, and walked on. “You?”

  Simon turned something over and over in his fingers. “Stars,” he said.

  Copyright © Patricia Bow, 2014

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  We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

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