by Aaron Ehasz
“Hey, Bait, you know you’re my best bud, right?” Ezran asked. “I’ve known you practically forever.” He scratched Bait under the chin, and the grumpy glow toad stopped glaring.
Zym looked down at the little crowd, wide-eyed and innocent.
“Okay, Zym. It’s time to buckle down and get to work,” Ezran said. He put his hands on his hips.
Bait grumbled in agreement.
“Flying is a natural and beautiful thing,” Ezran said. “Now, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy—”
Again, Bait grumbled in agreement. This time, Ezran turned to look at him. “You don’t need to keep doing that,” he said.
Bait narrowed his eyes at Ezran and made a defiant grumble, which Ezran had sense enough to ignore. Ezran’s father always liked to say “pick your battles” when he wanted Ezran to overlook something small that was bothering him. This seemed to be one of those instances.
“Ready, Zym?” Ezran asked. “Wings out! And … FLAP!” Ezran stretched his arms out and demonstrated flapping as best as a human could. “Come on! You have to flap those wings.” He jumped up and down, but Zym didn’t seem to be catching on. The little dragon tilted his head to the side … and toppled over from the weight of his own head!
Ellis laughed. Bait rolled his eyes.
“Oh no—are you okay?” Ezran asked. He pulled Zym back up into a standing position and made sure he was holding his head up straight.
“One more time,” Ezran said. “We’ll try it nice and slow. Flaaaa … aaaap …” Ezran raised and lowered his arms in slow motion. This time, Zym wiggled his ears in response and broke out into a grin.
Ezran laughed. “That’s not flying, but it’s a very, very good start.” Ezran had also learned from his father the power of encouragement.
“That was a good try!” Ellis shouted.
Zym leaped on Ezran and licked him. Ezran giggled.
But then Ezran stopped laughing. He could feel eyes on him. Slowly, Ezran turned to face Bait, who had somehow raised the level of his stare from intense to super intense. How was it possible for a glow toad to express so much disgust with a simple look?
“Let’s take a break,” Ezran said to Zym. “Everyone meet back here in ten minutes. I have an idea.”
A few minutes later, Ezran returned to the flight practice boulder. Since he didn’t know how to fly himself, he thought he should find someone with real-life experience to guide Zym. “And … we’re back. This time we’re here with a special guest. She’s mystical, magical, Moon-powered, and she knows how to fly. Please welcome: Phoe-Phoe!”
Ellis clapped as Lujanne’s moon phoenix stepped forward daintily.
“Ready, Phoe-Phoe?” Ezran said. “Show him how it’s done.”
Phoe-Phoe spread her enormous blue wings and flapped them. Almost effortlessly, she took flight.
“See?” Ezran said. “It’s pretty easy.” He felt a little bad saying that, not having any idea how to do it himself. But Zym tentatively opened his wings in imitation of Phoe-Phoe.
“Yes! Yes, that’s right,” Ezran said. At least Zym had picked up the idea of flying. “Now I’m going to show you what flying feels like.” With Zym’s wings spread, Ezran hoisted the baby dragon above his head. Then he began running in circles. “See? Can you feel it? Can you feel the whoosh of the air beneath your wings?”
“Oooooo-eeeeeee,” Zym chirped.
“He’s doing it!” Ellis said. “He’s amazing.”
“Yes, yes—he’s amazing,” Ezran said. He ran faster and faster. He was going to do it; he would teach this baby dragon to fly. As his excitement peaked, Ezran realized it was time to let Zym try on his own. It was time to let him soar.
Ezran sprinted forward in a burst of speed, and then stopped short and let go of Zym. Fly, Zym, fly! Ezran thought.
For a moment, the baby dragon careened through the air. It really looked like he was flying! But the truth was, he’d just been propelled forward by Ezran’s sudden stop. A few seconds later, and—
FRRRUMMMFFFFF. Zym landed in some bushes and disappeared beneath the leaves.
“Ezran!” Ellis shouted. “You killed the Dragon Prince!”
“Oh no. I’m so stupid,” Ezran said. He ran over to the bushes and frantically dug through them. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”
Finally, Ezran unearthed a dazed Zym.
“I’m so sorry, Zym,” Ezran said. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I promise. Are you okay?”
Zym broke into a huge smile and panted happily. Ezran hugged him.
When he pulled away, he caught Bait rolling his eyes at Phoe-Phoe.
Ezran would have to do better.
“Come on, buddy,” Ezran said. “Let’s try again.”
That evening, Callum returned to the courtyard near camp. After all the time he’d spent with Lujanne, he was thrilled to see Rayla, Ezran, and Zym.
But it turned out Rayla was on her way out.
“Hey—where are you going?” Callum called as she sprinted through the courtyard.
“I need to patrol for dark forces,” Rayla called back.
Callum stared after her. He wished she didn’t have to keep risking her life for them like this.
“Rayla says we have to leave tomorrow,” Ezran said.
“Seriously?” Callum asked. “So, I guess Zym can fly now?” Callum was impressed. He hadn’t learned any magic, but at least Zym had learned to fly. He gave the little dragon a big smile.
“Uh, no, not yet,” Ezran said. “I’m doing my best.” Zym lowered his head. “And so are you, Zym. I know you are!”
“I guess we all had a tough day,” Callum said.
“Yeah,” Ezran replied. “Lots of jumping and flapping, but no flying.” He patted Zym on the head. “But we’ll get it. No matter how impossible it seems, we believe in ourselves and we’re not giving up!”
Zym looked up at Ezran with a smile of gratitude that made Callum feel silly for being so easily disheartened. Ezran had a wise way about him, especially for someone so young.
“You know what?” Callum said. “I’m not giving up either. I’m gonna go give Lujanne a piece of my mind. But you know, nicely.” He stood up and strode back the way he came.
This time, Callum stomped up the endless stairs to the Moon Temple. Apparently, learning magic required a person to be in excellent physical condition. He’d have to get some tips from Soren.
When he arrived at the temple, it appeared to be empty. But soon he spotted Phoe-Phoe flying through the night sky with Lujanne on her back. The pair landed softly in front of the temple.
“You’re wrong,” Callum called to Lujanne from the shadows.
Lujanne jumped. “Callum! What are you doing here? It’s late.”
“I’m never giving up,” Callum said. He started pacing. “Growing up, I was supposed to learn horseback riding, sword fighting, archery, battle tactics … but I was so bad at everything.”
“But then … you didn’t give up? And you got good?” Lujanne asked. She dismounted Phoe-Phoe.
“Well, no—I gave all those up,” Callum said. He could see Lujanne was missing the point. “But then I tried magic, and it felt right! It felt like I was finally good at something. I will learn magic. It’s who I am.”
“I admire your determination, Callum,” Lujanne said. “But learning magic is not your destiny. You can’t do primal magic because you weren’t born connected to a primal source.”
“I don’t get it. What do you mean ‘connected’?” Callum asked.
Lujanne stroked Phoe-Phoe’s feathers. The phoenix nuzzled her hand as she explained. “In Xadia, all creatures and elves and dragons are born connected to a primal source,” Lujanne said. “They have a piece of it inside them—we call that piece an arcanum.”
Okay, Callum thought. Now we’re getting somewhere. I’m learning things. Xadian creatures are born with an arcanum. Which means—
“Wait,” Callum said. “What’s an arcanum?”
“It’s
like … the secret of the primal, or its meaning,” Lujanne said.
“The secret of the primal?” Callum shook his head. He was already confused again.
“Yes,” Lujanne said. “That secret becomes a spark—the tiniest possible flicker of a primal source inside you, but enough to ignite the world with its magic!”
All right. I think I maybe sort of kind of get it, Callum thought. Every primal source has a secret.
“So, what is it? What’s the arcanum of the Moon?” Callum asked.
“It’s something I just … know,” Lujanne said. “It’s not easily put into words. Knowing it in my own heart, it’s an idea and a feeling more basic than a single word. But I couldn’t explain it with ten thousand words if I tried.”
“Well, try! Please?” Callum begged. He was ready to learn, and Lujanne just kept giving him these non-explanations.
“Very well,” Lujanne said. She closed her eyes. “The arcanum of the Moon is about understanding the relationship between appearances—”
Callum felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned around, he saw a copy of Lujanne!
“—and reality,” said the Lujanne copy.
Callum swallowed. This elf just got weirder and weirder.
“Most people believe that reality is truth and appearances are deceiving,” Lujanne said.
Then a third copy of Lujanne emerged out of nowhere. “But those of us who know the Moon arcanum understand we can only truly know the appearance itself. You can never touch the so-called reality that lies just beyond the reach of your own perception.” Each of the three identical Moon mages smiled, done with their shared lecture.
Callum closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened his eyes, there was only one Lujanne. This was not the type of magic he’d been hoping to learn.
“I’m confused,” Callum said.
“I don’t blame you! After all, you’re only human,” Lujanne replied.
Callum felt even more discouraged than before. He decided he’d had enough of the elven mage for one night.
When he returned to the camp, Ezran, Bait, and Zym were all sleeping soundly. Callum lay down in his humongous bed, but he was too worked up to sleep. He grabbed the rune cube, which would illuminate on a specific side when it detected magic of that type, and held it toward Bait. The Sun rune glowed. Then he moved it toward Zym, and the Sky rune glowed. When he moved the cube close to his chest, it went dark.
Callum was suddenly exhausted. He pulled the cube tight against his body, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep.
Out in the forest, Rayla was on high alert with her blades out. “ ‘Oh, can’t we stay a bit longer so I can learn some magic tricks?’ ” she muttered, doing her best impression of Callum. “And oh, ‘I wanna play around with the wee dragon!’ ” She shook her head. “Humans.”
She joked, but Rayla’s conscience was heavy. Callum’s words from breakfast this morning were ringing in her ears: I wrote a letter to my stepfather to catch him up on everything.
Callum had given Rayla yet another perfect opportunity to tell the truth: The king was dead, killed by the other Moonshadow assassins. She’d probably had a half dozen opportunities to come clean in the last day. What was stopping her? She was supposed to be Callum and Ezran’s friend.
Rayla shook her head again, this time trying to erase the guilty thought from her mind. Right now, her job was to be the protector. She had to focus. And again, the princes were the only reason they were still here on this cursed mountain.
Rayla peered around a corner, inspecting the path as she walked. “Only the noble elf cares about keeping us all alive, apparently. There’s something out here, I know it. Something ba—” She stopped. Was that music?
The melody was quite beautiful. It sounded like a wood instrument, a lute or flute or piccolo—something like that. Where was it coming from? Something wasn’t right.
Rayla yawned. She had been patrolling all day, and the music was so soothing. Her eyes seemed to be getting very heavy. Maybe she could rest, just for a little while.
No! Rayla told herself. Yes, she’d been patrolling all day, but she shouldn’t be this tired. She’d forced down all that imaginary food earlier so she’d be alert for her patrol, but now it felt like her whole body was filling with sand. Something wasn’t right.
And yet, it would feel so good just to lie down …
Rayla saw a blue rosebush nearby and quickly plucked a rose. She lay down, holding the rose tight, and closed her eyes.
Claudia quietly stepped into the glade, playing the last measures of the entrancing song on her ocarina. When she finished, she lowered the instrument and looked at her sleeping victim. Her heart swelled with the knowledge that she was close to the dragon egg. She would complete her mission, retrieve the egg, and make her father, Viren, so proud. But the chance to kill the elf who’d kidnapped the princes? She hadn’t expected this little gem to fall into her lap. She motioned to her brother, Soren, who stepped out of the nearby brush.
Claudia nodded at Soren. “Do it,” she whispered.
Soren just squinted at the elf, unresponsive to Claudia’s command. Claudia rolled her eyes. She had offered Soren normal earplugs to block the sleep spell, but Soren had insisted on rolling up pieces of bread from an old sandwich. He said it was a “super-effective” trick he’d learned at sleepaway camp.
“Soren! You need to take your ear-ball things out!” Claudia whispered.
“What?” Soren asked a bit too loudly.
“Your ear bread!” Claudia whisper-yelled.
“I cannot hear you!” Soren practically shouted. He pointed to his ears. “I have the bread-plugs in! Told you they were better than any magic earplugs!”
Claudia moved closer to her brother and exaggerated her pronunciation so he could read her lips. “The sleep spell is over. You don’t need the bread anymore.”
Soren nodded. “Just tell me when the sleep spell is over so I can take out my bread-plugs.”
Ugh. Did she have to do everything herself? Claudia reached over and plucked the wads from Soren’s ears.
“It’s over. The spell is done,” she told him. “You don’t need these anymore.”
Soren seemed oddly annoyed. “Maybe I don’t need them, Claudia. But I still want them.”
She handed the two damp, mushy balls of bread to Soren, who joyfully popped them into his mouth.
Claudia just shook her head.
Misty gray clouds speckled the nighttime sky in Katolis, all but covering up the moonlight. Viren passed through the dark courtyard swiftly on his way to the rookery. It was a place he rarely visited. Viren didn’t care for crows, their loud cawing and their stinking messes.
Several fires lit the rookery halls. Viren wrinkled his nose when he saw dozens of cages dangling from the ceiling, each harboring a captive crow. Crow droppings dripped to the ground at regular intervals, making tiny splat sounds. Viren shuddered. Over the years, he had forced a servant (and occasionally Soren) to ferry his mail down to the filthy rookery. And so, Viren was at a bit of a loss when he arrived carrying a tray of four sealed scrolls to be mailed. What’s more, his nerves were frayed—of all his concealments and deceptions, using the king’s seal ranked among his most treacherous.
Nevertheless, when Viren saw a young man feeding the crows, he cleared his throat and spoke in a steady voice.
“Ahem. Crow Lord,” Viren said.
But the man in the chamber didn’t turn around or show any sign of having heard Viren.
“Crow Lord. Sir! You!” Viren boomed.
There was a long pause, and finally the man turned around. He was young—not much older than Soren—and wore his black hair slicked up and spiky. His nails were painted a shade of purple so dark it looked black. His tunic was pale, untucked, and covered in bird droppings. Viren looked at him disdainfully.
“Sorry, I heard you calling for the Crow Lord—he’s not here right now,” the young man said.
“Then who are you?” Viren a
sked with a withering sigh. In his experience, it was common courtesy to respond when there were only two people in the room.
“Oh! Well, I’m the Crow Master,” the young man said eagerly. He said the word master slowly and with emphasis as if he were speaking to a child.
Viren stared at the Crow Master. How different could this be from Crow Lord?
“I’m sort of like the assistant Crow Lord. I recently got promoted,” the young man said, clearly pleased with himself.
“Congratulations,” Viren said. He could muster a few manners when necessary; what was wrong with this youth? “Are you able to send the mail, Crow Master?”
“Sure, sure, of course,” he said in a high-pitched tone that suggested he had never sent the mail before.
Viren presented his tray of scrolls to the Crow Master. As he reached his hand out to receive the tray, the Crow Master suddenly backed away.
“Um. These seem to bear the king’s seal.” It was a statement, but his voice went up at the end as if he were asking a question.
“Yes,” said Viren. He was prepared for the Crow Master to recognize the king’s seal and maintained an easy expression.
“Um. Um. The king is … you know,” the young man stammered. Then he began to painfully spell aloud: “D … E … A …” The young man looked both ways as if to check that no one else was listening before whispering the final letter: “D.” He pushed the tray back to Viren and shook his head. “I can’t send these.”
Viren considered the best tactic to take with this apprentice and settled on a combination of empathy mingled with intimidation. “I understand your dilemma,” he said, not unkindly. “You were recently promoted, and you are trying to do a good job.”
“Yes. Yes, exactly!” the Crow Master said.
“But let me be clear, Crow Master,” Viren said. “You will send these to the leaders of the other four kingdoms immediately.” He paused and leaned in. “The king was very D-E-A-R to me, and I am fulfilling his dying wishes by delivering his final missives. If you dare refuse, you will face … a consequence.”
“Wh-what consequence?”