Sky

by Aaron Ehasz

  Viren was dazed and injured. He knew the queens were dead—there was no way they could have survived the attack from that dragon tail. I must be doomed. He knew Thunder was out for blood, but he couldn’t see the dragon for all the dust.

  And then, Viren saw a figure charging toward him on horseback. He thought he might be seeing things that weren’t there, but the figure grew closer and closer until there was no mistaking it.

  It was Queen Sarai. She’d come back to rescue him. She slowed her horse and reached her hand down to Viren. He grasped it. With surprising strength, she hoisted him onto her horse.

  “Thank you,” Viren said. He owed her. When they got back to Katolis, Viren would be more considerate of Sarai, he promised himself.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she said.

  The horse galloped back toward the border. But by then, Thunder had them in his line of sight. With a single beat of his wings, the dragon was airborne, blowing blasts of lightning breath.

  Thunder’s aim was imperfect, and Queen Sarai was a champion rider. Viren felt the horse dodge and weave through blasts, leaping over obstacles.

  Thunder became angrier and angrier, and the lightning blasts became wilder and more desperate. But Sarai’s path remained relentless, precise, and agile. Viren began to believe they might evade the dragon after all.

  Then the furious barrage of lightning blasts stopped. Had the Dragon King given up? Viren was afraid to look back.

  But the dragon had simply paused to gather his senses and take aim.

  BOOM! An enormous blast lifted the horse off its feet, throwing the queen and her high mage through the air.

  Viren landed hard and far away, with the wind knocked out of him. As the dust settled, he coughed violently and scanned the ground for Queen Sarai. When he spotted her, Viren’s stomach churned.

  Sarai was quite still, lying on the ground, covered in dirt and ash. But she was breathing. Viren forgot his own injuries and ran to her.

  “Come on,” he said, tugging at her arm. “We have to run.”

  She opened her eyes. Viren shook her. She was so strong; he knew she would get up. But she just shook her head and said nothing.

  Viren was with Queen Sarai as she took her last breath. In one hand, he held her fingers, squeezing them to give her a sense of human presence as she passed. In the other hand, he held the empty jar that had once contained the wisps—soon it would contain something even rarer.

  King Harrow returned to Katolis safely, but his life was never the same. The land of Xadia had stolen his most precious loved one, and he felt that all the strength had been sapped out of him.

  The king tried to console himself with the notion that Queen Sarai’s ultimate sacrifice had changed the world.

  The heart of the titan worked exactly as Viren had promised. It yielded its incredible life force. King Harrow witnessed barren, fallow fields transformed into verdant abundance. A hundred thousand lives were saved. Families celebrated their life and health and gave thanks to three incredible heroes. Three queens—three mothers—became legends.

  After returning to Katolis, King Harrow spent a day locked in his chambers, avoiding Prince Callum. Telling the young prince that his mother had died would take strength, and he had none left. The only person he was willing to see was Viren.

  “It should have been me,” Viren said. He was sitting on a chair with his head in his hands. King Harrow leaned over the hearth.

  “No, it should have been me,” King Harrow said. “Queen Sarai sacrificed herself for a plan she never believed in.” He pulled the crown off his head. He didn’t care about being king anymore. It meant nothing without Sarai by his side.

  “Exactly!” Viren said. “It was my plan, and, therefore, my fault. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “No,” King Harrow said. “You see, she didn’t believe in the plan … she believed in me.” The king’s voice cracked. Tears rolled from his eyes into the crackling fire. He began to sob.

  Viren said nothing for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  Then a guard opened the door without knocking. “Your Highness,” she said, “he’s waiting for you now. The boy is confused and he insists he will only speak with you.” The guard was referring to Callum.

  “Okay,” King Harrow said.

  The king wiped the tears from his eyes. He had to tell Callum, and he had to be strong for him. Harrow imagined Sarai’s love filling him up with the strength he needed. The king corrected his posture. He followed the guard to the throne room.

  “Are you ready?” a guard asked.

  “No,” Harrow said. He’d never felt so completely unprepared. How could he face Callum? “But you may open the doors.”

  When he saw small Callum standing alone in the great throne room, King Harrow’s heart nearly split in two. But he kept moving forward. When he reached Callum, the king knelt to his level.

  “Callum,” he said. “I want to talk to you about life. And growing up. And how sometimes there are changes … you don’t expect.”

  Queen Aanya had vowed to remain stoic as she listened to Lord Viren recount the story of her mothers and their deaths. She knew Lord Viren was trying to win her over for his own purposes, but despite herself, the queen was welling up. She clutched the pendant on her neck and released it almost by reflex. She always kept her mother’s ring inside. The pendant was shaped like a closed red flower. When Queen Aanya touched its latch, the flower opened, revealing the sapphire ring Queen Annika left with King Harrow so many years ago.

  “I’m sorry you were never able to know them,” Viren said. “Your mothers.”

  Queen Aanya didn’t like Viren and she didn’t trust his condolences, but his story had given her a little more insight into her mothers, and for that she was grateful.

  “Thank you for sharing this story, Lord Viren,” she said. “I feel lucky to have heard so many beautiful stories. This is how I’ve gotten to know my mothers.” Aanya touched the latch on the pendant, which closed around the ring.

  “They were very brave and very strong, and wise,” Viren said. He looked down at the ground, remembering. “I know it is not my place to say—but I am sure they would have been very proud of you.”

  Aanya smiled. Lord Viren was right—it was not his place to say such a thing. And yet she was affected. She wiped tears away from her cheeks. “It may seem strange to miss someone I’ve never known,” she said. “But I miss them so much.”

  Viren nodded kindly, and Aanya wondered if there wasn’t some good in him. After all, he had returned to help her mothers on that fateful day.

  “Queen Aanya,” he said. “Knowing what you know now, can you see why I believe that if your mothers were here today … they would choose to join us, and fight by our side?”

  Queen Aanya stared at Viren. She touched the latch on the pendant and looked at the ring once more. “I think you are right, Lord Viren. Perhaps my mothers would join Katolis in this fight.” The thin smile spreading on Viren’s face reassured Queen Aanya that the decision she was about to make was the right one. “But I will not join you.”

  “What?” Viren asked.

  Aanya couldn’t help feeling a small victory at Viren’s baffled expression. She could sense the eyes of the other monarchs on her, and she knew she had them in her pocket.

  “We owe Katolis a great debt, there is no doubt,” she said. She rose from her throne and walked around the rotunda, her hands clasped behind her back. “We received so much kindness and courage and sacrifice. But I cannot repay a debt of a hundred thousand whose lives were saved … by sending a million men and women to die in violence.”

  “Did you not listen?” Viren asked. He was almost shouting. “Did you not—King Ahling! Help me talk some sense into her.”

  But Queen Aanya knew King Ahling. He would only act in unison. He seemed intimidated by Viren, but not so much that he would go against the grain.

  “Viren, we sympathize with the plight of Katolis
, but I’m afraid we can no longer—”

  “Coward!” Viren yelled at King Ahling.

  Aanya couldn’t help thinking Viren might be right about that.

  Then Viren turned to the other monarchs: “Traitors! Each of you standing here today, you betray—humanity.”

  “Lord Viren, I’m sorry …” King Ahling started to say. He was the type of person who couldn’t stand it when anyone was angry with him. He reached out to put a hand on Viren’s arm, but Viren glared at him until he drew it away again.

  “Save. Your. Empty. Apology,” Viren spat. “There is danger coming. They’ll be on your side of the border soon. You’ll all pay the price for ignoring my warnings.”

  Queen Aanya watched as Viren exited the gazebo in a haze of fury. She could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. She felt a little sorry for the aging mage, but a new time was upon them. As a young ruler, she had the opportunity to correct the course of violence that her parents had been a part of. And she hoped to do just that.

  Rayla wondered if Captain Villads really could smell land nearby, hours or a day away, or whatever his crazy parrot told them to believe.

  They’d been sailing on the Ruthless for days now and it seemed that everyone else had grown their sea legs. Rayla gripped the edge of the boat tightly, focused on keeping her breakfast inside her stomach.

  Despite her best efforts to ignore Captain Villads, he continued to make small talk as he steered the ship. Rayla felt rude not responding.

  “So, Rayla … that’s an unusual name, isn’t it?” Villads asked.

  “Oh yeah, uh, my human parents had an unusual taste in names … Villads with a silent D,” Rayla said. She made no effort to conceal the sarcasm in her voice.

  “’Tis fair,” Villads said with a shrug. “So, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m an assassin,” Rayla said. She twirled one blade in the air. People deserved shocking answers when they asked boring questions.

  Villads laughed heartily, but when Rayla didn’t join in, the laughter quickly petered out.

  “Oh. You’re not joking,” he said.

  “Well, I’m supposed to be an assassin,” Rayla said. She shrugged. “But I’ve never actually, you know … killed anyone.”

  “Well, maybe someday,” Villads said cheerfully. “Never give up on yer dreams. I’m a blind, narcoleptic pirate, and I still sail the seven seas. Or is it eight seas? How many seas are there these days?”

  “Thanks for the encouragement,” Rayla said. “But the truth is, I’m not sure being an assassin is my dream after all.” She turned to look out at the water.

  “Ohhhhh,” Captain Villads said. “So, then, what is your dream?”

  “I wish I knew,” Rayla said.

  Suddenly, the ship rolled over a big wave. Rayla gripped the railing and clenched her jaw. “But I’d settle for getting off this stupid boat and standing on some firm ground.”

  “I’m a crazy old man, but let me share some wisdom wi’ ye,” Villads said. “That is, if you think you can stomach it.”

  “STOMACH-IT!” Berto squawked. “Good one, Captain!”

  “Why not,” Rayla said through her teeth. Her eyes shot daggers at the parrot. “I love wisdom. Bring it on.”

  “Life,” Captain Villads said, “is like a river.” He removed his hands from the wheel to make wavelike motions.

  Rayla sighed and sat down on the deck in despair. “Oh great. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

  “You can’t see too far ahead,” the captain said. “I can’t see at all, as I might have mentioned.”

  “You mentioned!” Berto squawked.

  Captain Villads left the wheel to sit down next to Rayla. “You don’t know where the river of life will bend and turn. You don’t know where it will go at all.”

  “How is this supposed to be helpful?” Rayla asked. The advice was depressing her. She already felt that she’d failed at her calling. “You know that wheel is spinning around on its own?” She pointed at the out-of-control captain’s wheel.

  “That’s all I’m saying, Rayla,” Villads said. “Don’t try to control where the river goes. There’s just one thing you can know and control—yourself.”

  Rayla thought about that. She liked the way it sounded. Things hadn’t worked for her when she tried to control Runaan or the mission. But she was pleased with herself for following her heart rather than killing Ezran. Following her instincts had brought her to the egg, Zym, and a whole bunch of new and valuable friendships.

  “Look at yourself,” Villads said. “Who are you, Rayla? What do you stand for? Once you know that, then wherever the river takes you—you’ll be right where you were always meant to be.”

  Rayla felt chills run up and down her arms. She knew what she wasn’t—an assassin—and coming to terms with that fact was difficult. She hadn’t looked at the other side of things—now she had the opportunity to decide what she was.

  Rayla stood up, suddenly energized.

  “Villads, that’s amazing. When you started talking, I was sure you were going to spout some complete nonsense, but what you said … it’s beautiful.” Rayla turned to Captain Villads, beaming, but he was fast asleep on the deck.

  “I’ll tell him later!” Berto squawked over the snoring captain.

  I’ve had King Harrow’s letter for a few days now, but I just can’t bring myself to open it,” Callum told Bait. He was bouncing one leg nervously, wondering if he should return to the upper deck and forget about the letter altogether.

  Bait jumped on his nervous leg.

  “Sorry,” Callum said. He stopped the nervous tapping.

  “I know it sounds crazy, Bait, but it’s like right now there are words he hasn’t said to me—and they’re all right in here, waiting to come to life. But once I read it … once I read the last word? Then he’ll really be gone. Forever.”

  It was such a strange sensation—holding on to these unread words. But Callum knew he was just fooling himself. His stepdad was dead even if Callum never read the letter.

  Was Bait looking at him sympathetically, or was Callum imagining things? Bait put a foot on Callum’s hand.

  Callum took a deep breath. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

  “Okay. Here we go. Thank you, Bait.” He placed his finger on the thick wax seal and loosened it.

  As he read, Callum could hear the king’s warm, strong voice.

  Dear Callum,

  Over the years, there may have been moments when I let there be a distance between us. Because I am your stepfather, I was trying to give you the space I thought you needed to love your real father, even though he had passed away. Now I wonder if I should have held you closer. I wonder if showing you how much I loved you would have been okay, and would not have disrespected your relationship with him.

  Callum, I know I am not your birth father. But in my eyes and in my heart, you are my son. I see myself in you. I am proud of you. I love you unconditionally.

  As I write this, the sun is setting, while Moonshadow assassins prepare to end my life. A few months ago, I took my revenge on Xadia for your mother’s death. Tonight, it is their turn. I may not have long. So, I am forced to ask myself: What can I pass on to my sons in the short time I have left? In this letter, I will share with you a lie, a wish, and a secret …

  Callum put the letter down for a moment to take a breath. He wiped the tears falling from his face. “This isn’t easy,” he said to Bait, who looked up at him with big, understanding eyes. Then Bait looked back at the letter.

  “Wait—you can’t read, can you?” Callum asked.

  When I am gone, your brother, Ezran, will become king—and you will be his partner, his defender, and his closest adviser. Soon you will both face a lie—the great lie of history.

  Advisers and scholars will tell you that history is a narrative of strength. They will recount stories of the rise and fall of nations and empires, and they will be stories of armies and battles and decisive victorie
s. But this isn’t true strength—it’s merely power.

  I now believe true strength is found in vulnerability. In forgiveness. In love.

  There is a beautiful upside-down truth, which is that these moments of purest strength appear as weakness to those who don’t know better. For a long time, I didn’t know better.

  I ask you and your brother to reject history as a narrative of strength, and instead have faith that it can be a narrative of love.

  Callum read these words with surprise. He had believed the “lie” of history—and the lie had tormented him because he wasn’t good at remembering battle names or at swordsmanship. He wasn’t muscular like Soren or brave like his mother, Queen Sarai. He was just Callum. But reading his stepfather’s words, he started to think that there was a source of strength inside him. He knew how to love.

  The last time I saw your mother, she said, “I’ll see you on the other side.” I don’t know what lies on the other side. But I do know I will be watching over you and your brother always.

  I have tried to be selfless as a king—but as a father, I have a selfish wish. And that is for you and Ezran to be … FREE. Reject the chains of history. Do not let the past define your future, as I did. Free yourself from the past. Learn from it, understand it, then let it go. Create a brighter future from your own hearts and imaginations.

  And finally, you must be wondering about the SECRET I promised to share. Well, good news—the secret is hidden in the Banther Lodge, where you are right now! How’s that for planning?! Right now, go upstairs to the game room. There I have hidden an unusual cube with rune symbols on each side.

  After the initial feeling of hopelessness that the journey had taken him far from the Banther Lodge, Callum realized his stepdad was writing to him about the rune cube Rayla had rescued. He’d always known that cube was important. Maybe now Rayla would start listening to him … and maybe now he would find out how he could use the mysterious cube.

  Callum opened his bag and pulled the cube out. Then he continued to read the letter.