by Lisa McMann
“True,” said Samheed.
“You were nearly thirteen by the time the battle began,” Alex pointed out. “They’re just barely twelve.”
“A few months’ difference,” Lani scoffed, and waved him off. “And they’re a lot more mature than I was at their age. Lighten up. We’re just talking about what to do. It’s a teaching moment, right, Sam?”
Fifer and Thisbe exchanged a glance but stayed silent. Samheed did too, but he wore a strained smile that conveyed his tolerance of Alex and Lani’s frequent spats, and he wisely refused to jump into the middle of it.
Alex gave up and continued the conversation. “Well, I’m decided. I wish we could help them—I really do. But it’s too dangerous. I can’t go with Hux.”
“I disagree,” Lani said vehemently.
“Of course you do,” said Alex, looking tired.
Lani leaned forward. “Since when do you refuse to help anyone who came here asking for it? That’s so unlike the Alex I once knew. What if, way back when, you’d decided it was too dangerous to rescue Samheed and me on Warbler Island? We’d still be stuck there, thorn necklaces and all, with your favorite person, Queen Eagala, in charge. And the pirates would have captured all the sea creatures by now and taken over these islands, including Artimé, I’ll bet. You’d have never found Sky’s mother, or been able to save Karkinos, or met Ishibashi, or even rescued Aaron so we could overthrow Gondoleery Rattrapp if you hadn’t taken that first daring step of saving us.” She shook her head, exasperated. “I know we haven’t met anybody in a long time who needed help, but what’s stopping you now?”
Alex glared at her. Then he lifted his useless arm and let it fall to the table with a startling thump. “What do you think?” he muttered.
“Great.” Samheed closed his eyes briefly. “Here we go again.”
“Besides,” said Alex, ignoring him, “I can’t make the wings alone. I can’t do it at all. Aaron might be able to . . . ,” he began, but shook his head. “No. He can’t draw well enough—he’d need either me to guide him or Octavia there to sketch the wings. But that’s beside the point. He won’t risk it.”
“Won’t he?” asked Lani. She looked around the dining room. “Where is he, anyway—did he go back home already? I didn’t have a chance to hold the little monster.” Lani’s face grew sad for an instant, then cleared.
“Yes, he went back. And no, he won’t go anywhere—not with Kaylee and the baby needing him right now. Not with the grandfathers counting on him. There are just way too many uncertainties. We don’t even know where the land of the dragons is or how to get there.”
“Why don’t you ask Hux?” asked Samheed.
“I did. But dragon law forbids him from telling me.” Alex narrowed his eyes, looking even more skeptical.
Lani sighed. “So you’re going to let five young, beautiful dragons be killed because of your bum arm. You still haven’t gotten over that? Wow. I’m really disappointed in you, Alex. If I could do the drawing and that kind of magic, I’d go myself.”
“It’s more complicated than that. You heard Hux—he said the dragons are slaves. And when I went out later to measure him, he told me that this Revinir person uses them to transport people and goods, which is why he wants their wings fixed. But it gives me a bad feeling. If the dragons are slaves, do you really think the Revinir will let one of them go free again to bring me home? I don’t buy it.”
Lani stared hard at Alex, thinking. “The Revi— What is it again?”
“Revinir.”
“The Revinir could hold the same threat over the dragon that brings you back, I suppose, to guarantee it returns.”
“That’s what Hux said,” Alex admitted. “But if they can all fly again, with wings more their size, it seems like they’d have a better chance of making a break for it. They’re dragons after all. How hard can it be to fight off this ruler person? Can’t they just torch the crud out of him?”
“That’s a good question,” Lani said finally. “Maybe the Revinir isn’t a person.”
“Well, that just makes it even more uncertain. And I have the twins to think about. They’ve already lost their parents—there’s no way I’m going to risk abandoning them.” He frowned, then glanced at the girls. As much as they frustrated him, he loved them fiercely, and now that he had them in his life, he would always choose them above anything else. He never wanted them to feel like he’d felt when he was their age.
“Of course that’s a good reason,” Lani conceded. “Especially since we don’t really know who we’re dealing with.”
They ate thoughtfully for a moment; then Alex swallowed and set his fork down. “Look,” he said, softer now. “I’ll test Hux’s new wings tonight to make sure they’re working properly. Then I’ll attach them in the morning so he can go back, or fly free, or whatever he decides to do. And I’ll rack my brain all night to come up with a safe way to do this. And if I think of something, I’ll be the first one to say let’s try it. But there’s no one else available who knows how to do the magic. So . . . ,” he said gently, “we’ll just have to do what we can, and hope for the best for the other dragons.”
“But, Alex,” Lani began.
Alex shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. That’s the end of it. I have more important things to take care of. Like these two.” He glanced at his sisters. “I’m not willing to risk anyone’s life for it. Not this time. I . . . I’ve already lost way too much.”
A Story to Remember
The finality of Alex’s decision led to a tense silence at the dinner table, which lasted until Crow walked up. He joined them like he often did. Automatically sensing the tension, he didn’t speak at first other than to nod his greeting. But soon the air became exceedingly uncomfortable, and since Crow didn’t care for uncomfortable moods, he cleared his throat. “Did Aaron and Daniel go back home?”
“Yes,” said Alex.
“Oh.” His gaze swept the faces around him and rested again on Alex’s. “Any idea when Sky’s coming back?” Not only was Sky the love of Alex’s life, she was also Crow’s older sister, and the two were very close.
“Not soon enough,” muttered Lani.
Alex glared at her.
Crow caught Thisbe’s gaze, and his eyes widened. His lips twitched with mirth, as if asking, “What have I stumbled into this time?” Thisbe returned Crow’s look with a dramatic paranoid stare, while Fifer shook her head the slightest bit to warn him.
“Sky . . . and Scarlet,” Alex said with a slight emphasis on Scarlet’s name and a side-eye glance at Crow, “will be gone a few more weeks. Last I heard, they’re about halfway through rejuvenating and repopulating the Island of Fire, and Sky’s figuring out how to control the island’s core temperature and maybe stop it from plunging underwater so often. Honestly, I still don’t understand why anyone would want to live there. But that’s beside the point, I suppose, as some clearly do.”
“Well then,” said Crow, his face warming at the mention of Scarlet, who was originally from Warbler but had come to Artimé as a refugee. Crow had had a crush on her ever since he saw her swish her long blond hair while masterfully throwing a spell years ago. But he was too shy to do anything about it other than reach out in friendship. “That’s not much fun for us, is it. But I suppose my mother is enjoying spending time with Sky.”
“I suppose.” Alex set his fork down loudly.
“Okay . . .” Crow made a face at Fifer and quickly changed the subject. “So . . . girls, what story would you like us to tell on this Day of Remembrance?”
Nearly everyone at the table had forgotten the tradition of the day because of the excitement brought by the dragons’ dilemma. The twins sat up straighter, and both of them immediately launched into thinking about which story they wanted to hear.
Thisbe and Fifer already knew well enough that Alex had been the head mage of Artimé since he was fourteen, when the former head mage, Mr. Marcus Today, had been killed by Aaron—that was back when Aaron was evil. It was a
story filled with battles and sacrifices and love and hatred and good and bad, and most of all magic. A story that would take weeks or months to tell in full, and which Lani had taken great care to write down in the years following—seven volumes worth in all. The people of Artimé often spoke of moments they especially remembered, and those stories had become legends over time.
Thisbe and Fifer loved to hear about how Aaron had once been very bad and had killed Artimé’s beloved Mr. Marcus Today, because it was such a horrible story. It seemed so unreal and impossible when they thought of their loving brother and this peaceful land they lived in, that they sometimes forgot it was true. It occurred to Thisbe that if Aaron could have changed so much since those days, maybe Alex could have too. Unfortunately, Aaron would never tell the story, and Alex didn’t like to—he said it still hurt to think about and he wanted to forget it.
But once in a while, when the girls could find Sky alone, Sky would tell it to them. She’d explain that Aaron had become the ruler of Quill, and how, when he’d killed Mr. Today, all of Artimé had disappeared because the world couldn’t exist without a head mage running it. Every last one of the living statues and creatures, like Simber and Ms. Octavia and Florence, had immediately ceased to be alive. Simber had plunged headlong into the sea. The girls knew how horrible that must have been for the great cat, for Simber abhorred water of any kind. It made him extremely cranky, and nobody wanted to be near Simber when he was cranky.
Sky had also told them how she and Alex used to sit on the roof of the gray shack—the same shack that now rested in the Museum of Large—and try to figure out the magical clue Mr. Today had left Alex that would help him bring Artimé back. “That time was terribly difficult for your brother,” she’d told them.
“Is that when you and Alex fell in love?” Thisbe always asked, for the question seemed like it should be part of the story.
“Not quite,” Sky always answered, playing along with a sly grin.
It had been hard for Aaron, too, Sky had told them, though she hadn’t really known him then. Fifer couldn’t picture her kind, gentle brother Aaron killing anybody. He was ashamed of it, he’d said once. His biggest wish was that he could go back to Quill when he and Alex were ten and take the blame for drawing in the dirt, for he had broken the law in Quill too—he just hadn’t been caught. That way both brothers would have been declared Unwanted and sent to their deaths, and they’d have magically found themselves in Artimé together. And maybe Aaron wouldn’t have done so many things he regretted.
But unfortunately, they hadn’t known Artimé existed back then. And even more unfortunately, that’s not how it happened.
It was a shocking story. But that wasn’t the one Fifer and Thisbe wanted to hear that night at dinner.
“Tell us about the end of the world,” said Thisbe, her eyes bright.
“Yes, the giant waterfall!” said Fifer.
“Oh, my aching head,” said Crow with a groan, “that was the worst.”
“It was a rough ride,” Samheed admitted.
“It’s all your hero Lani’s fault,” Alex told the girls, and he darted to one side quickly to avoid the smack spell Lani flicked at him from across the table. Thisbe caught her doing it and made a mental note of how Lani had flicked her fingers.
Alex continued. “She found a map of our seven islands that had an extra piece of land on it to the west, and since we were out that way, convinced us all that we should go in search of it.”
Lani leaned in. “That’s not exactly how it happened,” she said. “But yes, we all as a group decided to go in search of this land, and we found ourselves being pulled toward a tremendous waterfall. We couldn’t escape the current no matter how hard Spike and Simber and the squirrelicorns fought it. Soon we plunged right over the edge! We headed down it at top speed, turning and twisting and speeding along, the crew bouncing and slamming into things, thinking we were all about to die—”
“And then we turned sharply again and went upside down for a long time,” Crow interjected.
“Yes,” said Lani, “and we finally found ourselves thrown backward, going up a waterfall on the other side of the world, out beyond where Aaron lives now. Only back then we didn’t know where we were. It was a horrible ride. We’re lucky we didn’t all die.” She nodded her head toward the table where Seth sat with his mother, Carina Holiday, his two young half siblings, and a man named Sean Ranger, who’d become a part of Seth’s family a few years after Seth’s father had been killed in Artimé’s first battle. “Sean’s broken leg was reinjured quite seriously. Simber had to take him home.”
Thisbe scrunched up her nose. “Why didn’t you all just jump on Simber’s back in the first place and let the ship go over?”
“There wasn’t room for everyone,” said Alex, perking up a little. “And a loyal group sticks together through the tough times. Even Simber and the squirrelicorns rode the waterfall, dragged over the edge with us as they held the ropes. Simber could have let go and flown home, but he wasn’t going to abandon us.”
“And Alex could have gone with Simber,” Samheed said quietly, “but he stayed with the ship as well.”
Thisbe listened, her face solemn. That was pretty brave of Alex. He had done a ton of good things with his magic. She glanced at him. He was staring at his plate, deep in thought.
Fifer nodded emphatically. “That’s like you and me,” she said, looking at Thisbe. “Loyal. Kaylee says we’re besties.”
“Besties?” asked Alex, looking up. “What does that mean?”
“Best friends,” said Fifer with authority. “Like her and Aaron, and Carina and Sean, and Thatcher and Henry, and Lani and Samheed, and you and Sky. Sometimes in love, sometimes not—that part doesn’t matter. Besties is one of the weird words from her world.”
“Ah,” said Alex. By now they were familiar with Kaylee’s unusual words and phrases. Kaylee Jones had come from a different world, a place called North America, and had found herself here after sailing through a terrible storm in the Dragon’s Triangle. And so far, no one had found a way back there.
“What happened then?” prompted Fifer, although she knew.
Alex continued. “Right. Well, we floated for a bit, but were soon caught in a hurricane and our ship wrecked—”
“And you met our grandfathers,” said Thisbe, who loved the three old men dearly. They were scientists whose ship had also wrecked, though many years before the Unwanteds found themselves there.
“Yes, and then—”
“Aaron got kidnapped by pirates, and you rescued him and fought off evil Gondoleery Rattrapp!” said Thisbe, hopping away from the table and beginning to act out the fight scene.
“Very nice footwork,” said Samheed, amused.
Just then, Thisbe sliced the air with her hand, and the movement somehow magically cut a rather large slit in the table and broke Samheed’s plate in two. Thisbe froze. “Oops.”
“Be careful!” said Alex.
“She didn’t hurt anyone,” Samheed said quietly.
Alex ignored him. “Maybe you’d better sit back down when we’re talking about fighting people. We don’t need another accident.”
Thisbe had heard dozens of similar statements in her life. She bit her lip, and her body sagged. There went trying to do something good with her magic. “Sorry,” she muttered. She slid back into her chair. Lani shot her a sympathetic look.
“But then, the big battle,” prompted Fifer, eager to move on. “And the dragons came and helped, right? They helped so much. Artimé never would have succeeded without them.” She closed her lips, looking a little smug.
Now Lani’s mouth twitched.
Alex gave Fifer a look. “Yes,” he said abruptly. “And that’s the end.” He tapped his empty plate and utensils and they folded in upon themselves until they were so small they disappeared. “And now I’m going to repay the dragons by making Hux some new wings to replace the old ones I already made as a favor—a giant favor—to them. So I’d s
ay we’re even.”
“Oh, Alex,” Lani said, shaking her head.
“Don’t start. Not today.” Alex softened. “Please.”
Lani softened too. She understood many of the emotions Alex was struggling with, thinking of all the losses they’d experienced when they were barely older than Thisbe and Fifer. Today was not a day to bicker. “All right,” she said. “Fair enough.”
They dispersed on that somber note. Samheed and Lani held hands, him walking and her rolling in her contraption to the tubes in the entryway. Crow got up to join Henry and Thatcher and their children at the long table. Alex slipped away to Ms. Octavia’s classroom to test Hux’s wings. A few moments later Thisbe and Fifer followed, sneaking into the room behind him to watch . . . and to learn.
A Daring Plan
Alex lit a single small lamp in Ms. Octavia’s classroom near the tables where the two shimmering ice-blue wings lay. He studied them. He rarely did magic anymore, other than simple spells like flicking on a highlighter in a dark corner of the Museum of Large or sending a seek spell whenever he couldn’t find his sisters and wanted them to come home. A seek spell merely required him to hold an artistic item created by the person he was seeking. Concentrating on that item would send a ball of light at top speed in the direction of the missing person. When it reached its destination, the light would explode into an image of the creation, thereby cluing in the recipient as to who sent it. So it wasn’t hard for Alex to do that spell. But any magic that involved throwing a component, like scatterclips or clay shackles or heart attack, was no longer in his repertoire. He didn’t even carry those components with him these days. It was too embarrassing when he missed.
He wasn’t very worried about pulling off the spell that would bring the wings to life, though, despite it being one of the more difficult spells he’d ever known or done, because it required concentration above all. And Alex had plenty of that.
Thisbe and Fifer crept silently closer, staying hidden behind statues and tables. One of the statues, a grumpy ostrich, opened an eye to look at them and frowned. Thisbe held a finger to her lips, pleading silently to the bird not to give them away. The ostrich fluffed his stone feathers, annoyed, but didn’t reveal the girls’ presence. Fifer decided she’d better keep an eye on him anyway.