by Adam Blade
A blinding blue flash brought a gasp from the crowd, and Max had to shield his eyes for a moment. When he managed to look again, he saw that the skull was complete and whole, as if it had never been broken. And that wasn’t all that had changed. The palace walls sparkled with thousands of glittering crystal points, and the colors of the wall hangings, fashioned from seaweed and coral, seemed to glow brighter than before. Max felt a strange feeling of calm flow through his body, as if some hidden power was laying a soothing hand on his heart. At the palace’s tall windows, fish of every shape and color hovered, looking in as if bewitched.
The Merryn’s aqua powers have been restored, Max thought. The underwater world is in harmony again.
The king stood from the throne and swam to the empty platform in the middle of the room. Max noticed he stood taller than before, and the wrinkles in his skin had smoothed away. His beard had turned from gray to black. He placed the Skull of Thallos in its rightful place.
“Go forth!” he called to the Merryn. “Tonight we will feast and celebrate!”
The crowd cheered, waving banners of bright seaweed, and began to file out of the palace chamber. Max’s dad was carried along with the crowd, and Rivet trailed excitedly after Spike. Soon only the king remained with Max and Lia.
“Come closer,” he said.
They swam to the platform, and the king placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “You risked your lives for Sumara. You defeated the Professor’s terrible creatures and liberated our people. You brought back the skull that protects us.”
Max lowered his eyes. “We failed to capture the Professor, though.”
“The Merryn will always have enemies,” said the king. “And next time, we will be more careful.”
He placed a hand inside his ceremonial robes and drew out two glittering silver clasps studded with pearls. He fastened one to each of their chests.
“These are Pearls of Honor, awarded for hundreds of years to Merryn who have done their city proud.”
Max swallowed. “But I’m not a Merryn.”
“In your heart, and ours, you are,” said the king. “The Pearls are filled with ancient aqua powers. With them, you can summon creatures of the sea to your aid, wherever you are.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Lia, fingering the delicate clasp.
Max thanked him, too.
“Now go and join the celebrations,” said the king.
They bowed and left the throne room. Max was sure his skin was flushing bright red. He couldn’t believe he deserved such an honor.
A curtain of weeds hung across the entrance to the palace. As Lia pushed it aside, Max noticed her wince.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Lia’s face was pale as she rubbed her arm. “It’s nothing,” she said.
Max raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me that,” he said. “That’s where Manak the Manta Ray stung you, isn’t it? Let me see.”
Lia rolled her eyes and drew back her tunic from her arm. Max saw at once that the black bruising around the puncture wound had spread beyond her elbow.
“It’s not healing properly,” he said. “You need to see a doctor.”
* * *
Max waited outside the healer’s coral home, a short swim from the city. The king and Lia had been inside for some time. I hope she’s all right, he thought.
His worries were interrupted by the purr of an engine, and he turned to see his dad pull up on a black aquabike with orange flashes along the side. He was towing another bike, this one sleek and electric blue.
“Where’d you get those?” asked Max.
His dad gave the black aquabike a pat. “I poked around the junkyard,” he said. “They need some work, but I thought you might want a replacement.”
Max climbed onto the bike and ran his hands over the touchpad controls. There were all sorts of symbols he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t wait to find out what they meant. “This is awesome! Thanks, Dad.”
“We should probably be getting home,” said his dad. “Aquora’s been without a Defense Engineer, and it’s high time I got back.”
“I can’t leave Lia now,” Max said. “She’s ill.”
“Of course,” said his father. “Just head up to Aquora when she’s better again.”
Max blushed. He hadn’t realized until that moment how he felt.
“Actually, Dad,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going back to Aquora at all.”
His father stared at him for a few seconds, then a sad smile spread across his face. “You know, I thought you might say that. You’ve got the Merryn touch now, after all. Is there any point in an old Breather like me trying to change your mind?”
Max jumped off the bike and hugged his father. He didn’t want to say that it wasn’t just because of the Merryn touch. It was because he loved this world. Because it was filled with marvels that he’d never see from the windows of their apartment on the 523rd floor.
“It’s not good-bye,” Max said. “I’ll come and visit you. But my place is beneath the waves now. These people need me. At least while my uncle is still out there.”
Max’s dad pulled away.
“But, Max,” he said, “you’re not still thinking about what Dedrick said about your mother, are you?”
“Of course not,” Max lied.
“Good,” said his dad. “Empty hopes can destroy a person, you know.” For a moment, a silence fell between them.
The Merryn king stepped out of the healer’s coral home, his face drawn and pale.
“Is everything all right?” asked Max.
“I hope so,” said the king. “Our healer is very wise and powerful.”
Max’s dad held out a hand to King Salinus, who looked at it in confusion for a moment, then took it in his own webbed fingers.
“Please … keep … Max … safe,” said Callum, in stilted Merryn. Max smiled. His dad was a fast learner.
The Merryn king nodded. “I wish you a safe journey home,” he replied. Max translated for his father, who smiled. King Salinus ducked back inside the healer’s house.
Max’s dad climbed onto his aquabike, gave Max a salute, and twisted the throttle. The bike whizzed upward, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake.
Max felt Rivet nuzzling at his hand.
“Dad gone, Max,” said the dogbot.
“I know, boy,” said Max. “I’m going to miss him.”
Lia came out of the house, a smile on her face. “Let’s go and join the party,” she said.
Max noticed a new seaweed bandage knotted around her arm. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Lia. “Why shouldn’t it be?”
Max rolled his eyes. It was just like Lia not to admit she was in pain. Maybe I’ll bug her about it later, he thought, after the celebration.
Lia climbed onto Spike, and Max swung a leg over his new aquabike’s saddle. Side by side, they rode back toward the city. As they got closer to the gleaming quartz-white Arch of Peace on Sumara’s main avenue, they saw people swimming around busying themselves for the feast, carrying platters of underwater delicacies, and making bunting from seaweed. A group of musicians was practicing a cheerful tune. Each of their instruments was made of multicolored shells.
Beyond the city, Max could see the vast ocean spreading out in every direction. If Mom’s out there, even in the deepest fathoms, I’ll find her. Max made it a promise to himself — and he was determined to keep it.
Deep in the belly of the volcano, my talons grip the baking rock. I sense liquid fire bubbling, heat rising: This is my birthplace.
Dawn is near. An event long awaited is about to begin. I must act; I feel it from my talons to the tips of my shimmering wings.
I take to the air. My powerful wings lift me into the swirling hot currents and I rise out of the crater in a burst of flame. I hover in the cool night air, letting the breeze ruffle my feathers. I look out over my homeland: Avantia.
Out there is my destiny
. My Chosen Rider. At last it is time to find him.
I open my beak and let out a cry that echoes between valleys and trees; my signal, sent out to trusted friends. It is many moons since we last met. I settle on the volcano’s crater to wait.
I spot a tiny shape in the distance, far above me, moving swiftly against the lightening sky. Excitement races through me. The shape grows larger, until it takes the form of … a gray wolf. He dives toward me. At the last moment he opens his leathery wings and lands gently on four strong legs. He paces around the edge of the crater. I nod my head in recognition. Gulkien has come.
An eerie yowl cleaves the air. From the shadows pooled at the volcano’s foot appears a huge, pumalike cat, lithe and agile, bounding over boulders toward the summit. Sparks fly as her claws rake the rocks. Her fur is golden and her amber eyes flash in the volcano’s fires. Here is Nera. I know her of old — her fierce courage will be needed in the testing times ahead. It fills me with pleasure to see my friend return.
From the other side of the crater comes a slithering sound. I turn to see the great serpent, Falkor, emerge from a vast fissure in the rock, his forked tongue flicking the air, tasting it. The flames from the lava-filled crater reflect on his scaly form as he winds his way toward us, his body pulsing with muscular energy. Colors swirl on his flanks, like spilled oil in water. His wide head, bristling with spines, bows in greeting. Nothing — neither stars nor fire — reflects in his black eyes. Falkor, alert and waiting, folds his shining coils around a boulder.
My feathers blaze more brightly. This is a momentous day: We have come together again. I open my wings to their widest extent. The Beasts come closer, bowing their heads to listen. The air crackles with energy, as if a storm is about to break.
It is time, I tell them. Our enemy of old, Derthsin, brings danger to the kingdom. War is brewing. We must each find our Chosen Rider.
Gulkien throws back his head and unleashes a howl that reverberates around the volcano’s slopes. Nera joins in with a thunderous growl — I feel the rocks beneath us creak and shift. Falkor hisses and tightens his coils around the boulder, causing a crack to spread. My own exultant cry erupts from deep within my throat.
Gulkien leaps into the air, beating his wings savagely. I watch him speed away. Nera bounds down the rocky slopes to disappear into the shadows. Falkor stretches his body out to its full glittering length, bows his head to me in farewell, and slithers into a fissure.
Good luck, my friends. My thoughts are with you.
Last of all, I spread out my wings, feeling their power, and take to the air.
I am Firepos, and my Chosen Rider is waiting….
* * *
I fly, watching the land as it speeds beneath me in a blurred patchwork of crop fields and dark woodlands.
Rolling hills stretch far ahead — hulking shadows beneath the predawn sky. At their feet, undulating in the breeze like a black sea, is a vast pine forest. Beyond the trees lurk bleak, fog-shrouded moors, and then a wide, grassy plain. Smoke curls up from the villages that are scattered over the land like seeds. The ocean is like a silver thread to the west.
All seems quiet in the world….
I smell smoke. Smoke, and something else … My feathers glow in anguish: It is the odor of charred flesh. Human flesh. Ahead I spy a flickering orange glow.
Fire.
I swoop down, gliding over the dense forest. My talons brush the leaves of the tallest trees. I see cornfields bathed in an angry wash of flame, and thatched huts billowing smoke. The village of Forton is under attack!
Screams rend the air over the inferno’s roar. Invaders in battle-scarred armor storm the streets, scattering villagers before them. Spear tips and swords glint, many dripping with blood. I see a few villagers turn to fight, but they are cut down without mercy. The streets are littered with bodies.
Deep in my core, my senses stir. He is here somewhere: my Chosen Rider.
I should have come sooner. What if I am too late?
I hover over the woods near the edge of the village, bristling with anxiety. All I can do is wait, and watch….
A sweat-streaked warhorse canters down the track from the village. On its back rides a giant of a warrior. His body is encased in close-fitting black armor, adorned with spikes. A cloak the color of dried blood hangs over his broad shoulders, and at his hip hangs a bronze-hilted sword. His face is obscured by a leathery mask — misshapen and ugly. My feathers tingle.
That mask. I know it….
Spikes jut from its dangling jowls, and its gaping jaws are lined with pointed teeth. Two horns curl up from its temples, ending in wicked barbs like fishhooks. It is the face of a Dark Beast, a near-mythical creature called Anoret, which stalked the land many years ago. The mask is an artifact of great power.
The Face of Anoret, also known to the people of Avantia as the Mask of Death.
And the rider — it is Derthsin!
I tip my wings and swoop down with a cry of fury.
Derthsin twists around in his saddle to face me. I channel flames toward my talons — a fireball gathers in strength and intensity. Soon this enemy will be a heap of smoldering ashes….
I see his eyes glitter through the holes in his grotesque mask. With a casual flick, he waves his hand at me.
It feels as though I ’m caught in a hurricane. An invisible force smashes into me and hurls me off my attack course. The ground rushes up. Too quickly …
With a screech, I crash into a cornfield. The fireball in my talons bursts around me, scorching the corn and
lighting up the night. My wings buckle, bones at breaking point.
Through the haze of pain, I understand: The myth of the Face of Anoret is true! It bestows power over the Beasts of Avantia to the wearer.
My fear grows — I am unprepared for this fight. I try to move, but I cannot: Derthsin still holds me in his thrall.
As I lie helpless and hidden from view, a man runs along the track toward the warrior. Dressed in rough woolen jerkin and leggings, he carries a farmer’s thresher: two pieces of wood joined with a chain. Behind the man chases a small boy, his tear-streaked face framed with brown hair.
My senses blaze. It is my Chosen Rider! I struggle to get up, but still I cannot move.
The boy grasps the man’s hand and tries to pull him back. His face is stricken with fear. The man shakes him off. “Go and hide in the woods, son!” He turns toward the warrior, who has dismounted and drawn his long, wicked-looking sword.
With a cry of rage, the man charges at Derthsin, raising his thresher and aiming a clumsy swipe at his head.
Derthsin neatly sidesteps, allowing his attacker to pass by. A noise like laughter comes from the mask, the sound distorted and ugly. With the speed of a striking snake he closes on the villager and raises his sword to strike….
The man ducks beneath the swinging blade, and as he stands up he swings the thresher — more by luck than judgment — into Derthsin’s head. Derthsin bellows in anger as the mask is torn from his face. He falls to his knees and drops his sword. The villager kicks it away.
I feel Derthsin’s hold over me fade, but I am still too weak to move.
I can see his dark features: thin, bloodless lips, a heavy brow looming over deep-set black eyes, and a strong nose. A thin trail of blood trickles down his cheek. He stares at the farmer. One more swing of the thresher will kill him.
“Think carefully,” Derthsin says. His voice is soft but commanding. He glances at the boy. “Do you want your son to see you kill an unarmed man?”
The man turns and shouts back to my Chosen Rider. “Get away! Hide! Find your mother….”
Derthsin’s hand creeps to a sheath on his belt. He draws out a long dagger.
I struggle to get up.
In two long strides Derthsin closes on the man. Moonlight flashes on steel. The man groans as the blade slides between his ribs. The thresher hits the ground.
Someone else approaches, stumbling down the road from Forton. A wom
an, crying in anguish. She bends over the stricken villager, cradling his head in her arms. A band of jeering soldiers follows in her wake.
“Put her in the cart with the rest,” Derthsin orders. The soldiers drag the screaming woman back to the village.
Derthsin picks up my Chosen Rider by his collar and stares into his eyes. The boy struggles, legs and fists flailing.
“I sense strength in your soul,” Derthsin growls. “But death is stronger than you.” He raises his knife, pointing it at the boy’s heart.
I turn my feathers the color of coal and silently take to the air. I circle once and swoop at the murderous warrior.
The boy’s mouth opens in a silent scream.
I plunge my talons into Derthsin’s shoulders and lift him off the ground. He drops the boy and roars as I carry him up into the air. I feel him writhing in my grasp, but I will not let go. Not yet.
Over the forest and plains I fly. Ahead I spy the glow of my volcano. He must know now where I mean to take him, for his roars become screams. Over the crater, the heat blasts us. In the depths, the pool of molten rock bubbles.
“ You’ll pay for this!” Derthsin roars.
With a victorious screech, I let him go. His hand grips one of my feathers, but I twist, and the feather tears away. It doesn’t slow his fall. His body tumbles and spins as he plunges through the air. The lava swallows him, cutting off his screams.
* * *
I soar back to Forton, which is still ablaze. The soldiers are scattering, searching for their leader. Dark smoke billows across the road. The boy leans over his father. The smoke sweeps past him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Beside him is the Mask of Death.
I land on the road and gently nuzzle the boy. He throws his arm around my neck and sobs into my warm feathers. He can feel our bond. He is young and fragile and his future is uncertain. Is he strong enough to face it?
I must do all I can to help him. But for now we must heal our wounds.