by Amie Kaufman
He got no further with that conversation, though. Ennar rounded on him with none of the patience she had for Hayn, baring her teeth. “I don’t know what your plan is,” she said, “but it won’t work. You dragons can kill all of us. The rest of our pack will still fight.”
“This betrayal was yours,” Torsten threw back at her, “and if we don’t return, the rest of the Dragonmeet will avenge us.”
“Nobody has to avenge anybody,” Anders insisted. “That’s what we’re trying to—”
“Well,” said another voice, “this looks cozy.”
As they turned around one by one, they saw the mayor and a group of his aides all approaching, their expressions grim.
Valerius dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “Humans,” he said, as though the very word meant that they were not worth any more attention.
“This is the leader of the humans,” Ennar corrected him, “from Holbard. Herro Mayor, leave this to us.”
Slowly, the mayor shook his head. “Ennar, I don’t think I will. Your pack has made enough decisions on our behalf, and now we have no homes. I’m sick of being afraid, and I’m sick of being silent.”
Anders tried again. “I—” But he was completely drowned out by the argument rising all around him. “I—”
He could see his friends watching from behind the rocks, but he couldn’t get a word in edgewise as voices rose and threats flew.
He was letting them down. They had brought everyone here, and he wasn’t playing his part.
He locked eyes with Rayna, and she pointed to the Mirror of Hekla, still carefully wrapped. You can do this, her eyes said.
Anders dropped to one knee and pulled aside the wrapper, baring the mirror to the sky.
Everyone around him fell silent with a gasp, staring around the circle, eyes wide.
All Anders could see was a few dozen versions of himself, each of them wearing almost identical expressions of confusion and concern.
The one he knew was Valerius had his mouth open. The one he knew was Torsten—who must be seeing dozens upon dozens of Torstens—stepped up to Ennar and gently poked one finger at the air beneath her chin. But despite what his eyes told him, his touch must have confirmed there was no beard there. Ennar bared her teeth, and Anders saw a version of himself growling like a wolf.
Everyone was confused, but for a moment, nobody was speaking.
This was his chance.
He raised his voice. “I’m the one you came here to find,” he said, “but I’m not the one who brought you here. You were brought here by wolves and dragons and humans, all working together. Wolves and dragons and humans who have learned to be friends. To respect one another and to protect one another, even though we’re different.
“At first, we thought those differences would keep us apart, and that they should keep us apart. That the others weren’t like us, and it was better to live separately. We were scared of one another. But now we know those differences are what make us so strong that we—just a group of children—have managed to get the leaders of the wolves, dragons, and humans in the same place for the first time since the last great battle. We learned that our ideas are stronger and better if we argue about them, if we forge them in the fire of debate, and share our different points of view so we can find the best way to do something.
“It took us wolves and dragons a while to learn to trust one another, but in time, we did. Then we realized we’d been leaving the humans out of it, thinking we should make decisions for them, instead of with them.
“The past ten years might have been a fight between ice wolves and scorch dragons, but this whole thing started because the wolves wanted to control the humans—or at least, they didn’t think the humans could take care of themselves, and nobody has ever thought so since. Nobody’s tried to talk to the humans, but we have to. Human isn’t an insult. We’re all humans, but the ones who aren’t elementals have to be smart and tough.
“The wolves and dragons and humans who are my friends learned that groups are fairer and stronger if they’re made up of different types of people, who have different ideas about how things should be.
“My sister and I, we’re half wolf and half dragon. Our father was Felix. Our mother was Drifa.”
A gasp went around the circle, and Rayna rose to her feet, walking across to stand beside him, her chin up, as if she were defying anyone to interrupt him. He didn’t give them the chance—he kept talking.
“The fact that Rayna and I are wolf and dragon—and we grew up among humans—means we come from the place where all those things meet. We come from the differences, and the disagreements, and from the strongest part of every point of view. We’ve come from the place where those things clash. We’re battle born, and we’re proud of it.
“The group that brought you here is battle born, and so are our goals. We all have different points of view. We all grew up in different ways. And we’re smarter together because of those differences. We can do things together—find artifacts, even create artifacts, protect people, imagine a different way to live—because we’re battle born. It makes us strong.
“At first, we thought that things would be all right if we could only keep you all apart. If we could use the Sun Scepter to balance out the Snowstone, so nobody would have the advantage, and everybody would just continue the way they were, separate.
“But we were wrong, and not just because of what happened to Holbard when we tried that. The answer was never to keep wolves and dragons and humans apart. What we need is for everyone to come together. We need all of you to talk to one another, to listen, to see past all the lies, and realize”—he gestured around, knowing that everyone could only see themselves—“that there’s a part of you in everyone here.”
He turned his gaze to where Hayn stood, and his uncle nodded silent encouragement. “Our parents worked together,” Anders continued, “to create and restore the artifacts we’re using today. And just yesterday, wolves and dragons worked on them again. It was so we could come together and forge something new.
“The new Vallen can be battle born. The dragons take so long to decide anything that nothing ever happens. The wolves follow their pack leader without question. And sometimes that pack leader makes mistakes, and there’s nobody to say so. The humans don’t trust either of them, but they also don’t try to talk to them—and even if they did, nobody would listen.
“We’ve all lived in those worlds, and our friends come from all of them. And you have a lot to learn from each other. Wolves and dragons are meant to work together to create artifacts. Designers and dragonsmiths are no good without each other. And the humans are the families wolves and dragons come from.
“Dragons know that differences are important—it’s why every student at their school studies something different, why the Dragonmeet talks and talks until every voice is heard. And wolves and humans know too—they live in Holbard, where there are people from all over the world, making the city stronger and more interesting with the things and ideas they bring from other countries.
“Right now, you’re all separate. Most of you don’t have anywhere to live, and you’re all spending a lot of time worrying about being attacked. So maybe, just maybe, you should all stop looking for someone to blame, and start talking instead.
“If you don’t agree, then argue! Forge a new way to do this with a battle of words. The new Vallen has to be battle born, and it will be a better place to live for all of us.”
Everyone was completely silent when Anders stopped speaking. He had never said so many words in a row in his entire life.
Beside him, Rayna was holding his hand so tight, he thought she’d break his fingers. But he knew what it meant. I’m so proud of you, I can’t even talk, so I have to try to break your hand to show you.
He half hoped that Leif would say something, or Hayn, but he knew why they didn’t. They were already the most inclined to listen to him, but they couldn’t drag everyone else along with them. They weren’t th
e ones he had to convince.
So he held his breath as Torsten and Valerius, now just two versions of himself, looked at each other, as Ennar eyed the mayor, who stared straight back.
And then Valerius looked at the version of himself who was really Ellukka, and he seemed to decide something. “Well,” he said, “I can’t do this while I’m staring at a dozen versions of my own face. I’m just not that good looking. And I can only imagine what it’s like for Torsten, staring at that many versions of his beard.”
The version of Anders that was Torsten actually snorted, amused. But when he spoke, he sounded stern. “We’re not just going to give things away. We’re the ones who have somewhere to live. We’re not the ones coming asking for help.”
“Nobody’s asking for help,” Ennar replied quickly.
“Once upon a time,” said Saphira mildly, “they wouldn’t have had to ask for help.”
Anders stayed silent, watching. Every single one of them was hearing what everyone else said, as though it came from their own lips. Saphira’s reminder had been spoken to each of them in their own voice.
It wasn’t that they’d forgotten who the others were, or that they really thought they were speaking to themselves. But perhaps seeing themselves speak, instead of someone they had always automatically assumed was wrong, it was just a little bit harder to completely dismiss it. Perhaps, hearing the words come from their own lips, they were forced to consider them just a little bit more carefully.
“You know what?” said the mayor, folding his arms. “I’ll ask for help. I’m not too proud. My people don’t have anywhere to live anymore. Two groups of elementals destroyed our city, and I don’t care if they were trying to hurt us or trying to protect us. What I care about is that we’re hungry, and my duty is to provide for my people any way I can.”
“We have a duty too,” said Ennar. “To protect you.”
“This isn’t about your duty,” said the mayor firmly. “This is about the fact that we’re all Vallenites.”
Anders looked across at Hayn, who slowly lifted a finger to his lips. Stay silent, his face—or, rather, Anders’s face—said. Let them keep talking.
Behind Hayn, two more versions of Anders that he was pretty sure were Sam and Sakarias were energetically jumping up and down in celebration. Anders wasn’t sure it was time for that yet, but at least nobody was attacking anybody else.
Tentatively, he crouched down and began to wrap the mirror back up again. It had done its job. It had reminded them that, in some ways, they were all the same.
Now it was time for them to see their differences again. To talk and debate. And, in battles of words and ideas, to work out what kind of Vallen they wanted to live in. Now they had to show each other their differences, because those were where the best ideas would come from.
All the adults paused as Anders finished wrapping up the mirror, suddenly seeing one another clearly again.
And then, as he picked it up and quietly backed away toward his friends . . .
. . . they all kept talking.
Epilogue
Five months later
ANDERS SAT ON A HILL ABOVE HOLBARD, SIDE BY side with Lisabet, eating slices of Kaleb’s cake. They were near the place that Sigrid had been buried, overlooking the city.
In the end, he and Rayna had decided not to tell anyone what Sigrid had done. They couldn’t hurt Sigrid now. She was gone. But telling the world would hurt Lisabet. And it wouldn’t bring back Felix or Drifa.
Their mother’s ashes had been scattered high above Vallen, to travel the winds as she had loved to do. But he and Rayna still had the portrait from her workshop, hers and Felix’s augmenters, and a growing collection of other things the dragons had been unearthing and gifting to Drifa’s children.
And, just as importantly, he and Rayna had Hayn.
So, too, did Lisabet; and Sam, Jerro, and Pellarin; and many of the other children who had sheltered at Cloudhaven.
“I’ve missed having a family,” Hayn had said the other day, looking around at all of them ruefully. “I wished I could have one again. I just didn’t imagine it would come true on quite this scale.”
Still, he never seemed to mind for a moment.
Ennar took a close interest in Anders, Rayna, and Lisabet as well—though she was no longer Professor Ennar. After the new trials, she had become the Fyrstulf, and the leader of the wolves.
She and Leif and the mayor were mostly getting along well. She and the mayor thought Leif was far too relaxed. Leif and the mayor thought Ennar was far too intense. Ennar and Leif still occasionally forgot to ask the mayor’s opinion, but he quickly reminded them when that happened.
Ennar’s wife kept cooking everyone dinner and feeding them during negotiations, and, as Sakarias said, “It’s hard to disagree when your mouth’s full of dessert.”
“You’d know,” Viktoria had replied dryly.
But today was special, and Anders wasn’t thinking about any of that. Yesterday, a ship carrying a troupe of stone bears from Allemhäut had arrived. In their human form they’d looked like an ordinary assortment of people, mostly clad in the brightly colored clothes of their homeland, all reds and blues and greens, small flowers embroidered along their hems.
In their elemental form they were huge, shaggy brown bears with dark eyes and enormous paws. Today the bears had set to work mending the cracks in the ground that divided Holbard into sections, rising onto their back legs and lifting their front paws, moving the rock and stone as easily as the wolves sent an ice spear flying through the air.
It had been a rough voyage from Allemhäut, and a rough entry into the harbor, but soon that would change. A team of designers and dragonsmiths, led by Hayn, Tilda, and a still-grumpy Kaleb, was working on repairing the wind arches that had protected the harbor until recently. Huge sweeps of metal, painstakingly forged and engraved with runes, stretched from one side of the harbor mouth to the other, and soon they would once again ensure that the waters inside were always calm. It was that guaranteed calm harbor in Holbard that had made the city such a mix of people from all over the world—merchant ships came from everywhere, knowing they could safely dock when they arrived.
Anders could pick out Rayna and Ellukka among the dragons wheeling above the city, playing and watching the stone bears’ progress. He knew their other friends would have found perches and places to watch as well.
But some of them would be at the other great construction site, inside the city walls, in the place where the old Ulfar Academy had once been.
Long ago, Lisabet had pointed out that the Ulfar courtyard had been built large enough for a dragon to land. Proof, she had said, that the wolves had once welcomed the dragons. Now, that courtyard would be even larger. The site would be home to the Vallenskól, where wolves, dragons, and humans would study side by side. A second campus was already under construction up in the mountains, at Old Drekhelm, a place for the students to travel in summer, or when their lessons required a little more altitude or space.
Anders and his friends would be among the first pupils of the school. He was one part nervous, one part excited, and one part disbelieving that this was somehow happening.
But before their classes began, they had a break to celebrate the equinox.
It was hard to believe that last equinox he had been desperately making his way toward Drekhelm to rescue Rayna, terrified she was about to be sacrificed by the very dragons who were now his friends.
“This equinox,” Rayna had said, “we’re going to party like dragons, reflect like wolves, and eat like humans.”
“I think we have to,” Mikkel had agreed solemnly.
“It’s our duty to embrace the best of all worlds,” Sam agreed.
With a rumble down below, a huge crack in the ground heaved, shifted, and closed, sealing up as though it had never been there.
“That was amazing,” Lisabet breathed. “Let’s go and watch up close.”
“All right,” Anders agreed, poppi
ng his last bite of Kaleb’s cake into his mouth.
Lisabet shifted to wolf form and began trotting down the hill.
Anders watched her go for a moment. Of all the wonderful things that had happened in the last year, his best friend—smart and loyal and strong—might just be the most wonderful of all, he thought.
Stones shifted again down below him in the city, and with the sound of Holbard’s repairs ringing in his ears, he grinned and transformed, then chased her down the hill.
Acknowledgments
I wish we could stay in the world of Vallen forever—I hope you’ve enjoyed your time there as much as I have!
No story is ever told by the author alone, and I’ll take this last chance to thank the people who helped introduce you to Anders and his friends.
My editor, Andrew Eliopulos, was—as ever—endlessly imaginative, patient, and supportive, and I find such joy in working with him. Abby Ranger began this journey with me, and her touch is still to be found in every part of it.
The crew at Harper have taken such wonderful care of me—from sales and marketing to production to art, thank you all! In particular, thank you to Rosemary Brosnan; Bria Ragin; Joe Merkel and Levente Szabo for my gorgeous cover design and artwork; Virginia Allyn for a map that ended up shaping this story; and Jill Amack and Caitlin Lonning for saving me from my many mistakes. Thank you to the fantastic crew at Harper Oz, who have been such wonderful pack members along the way.
My pack at Adams Literary is a part of everything I do—Tracey, Josh, Cathy, and Stephen, thank you!
To the readers, reviewers, booksellers, and librarians who share my stories with others—thank you, thank you, thank you. I see and appreciate everything you do!
This book was written while I was pregnant, a situation that presented some new challenges on top of the usual ones. Without my friend Liz Barr, it couldn’t have been done—when I couldn’t type, she made sense of my dictation! Thank you, Liz.