Contents
Breaking the News
When Everything Shatters
Cold and Alone
Luck Comes with Wings
Forbidden Friendship
Private Lessons
A Major Clash
Secret Training
A Change of Heart
River of Tears
Breaking Down
A Shocking Revelation
A Breakthrough
A Heart-to-Heart
The Birds
Continuing Clashes
A Consolation Prize
Florence Sends a Message
Fifer Rides Again
A Wrench in Thisbe’s Plan
A Dark Venture
Doubt Creeps In
Trying to Cope
Dev’s Story
Despair
A New World
On the Right Track
A Tragic Turn
Fifer Catches Up
Finding Common Ground
A Shocking Turn
On the Run
A Change in Plans
Breakaway
The Plan Backfires
More Trouble
Mass Confusion
In Pursuit
What Hope Sounds Like
About the Author
For Tricia, with love and thanks
Breaking the News
There was a rare thunderstorm over Artimé when Simber returned, carrying Thatcher and an unconscious Fifer Stowe on his back. All was quiet in the mansion, for it was not quite dawn, and the dark skies kept most of the mages in their beds with the covers pulled up around them, listening to the rumbling in their dreams.
A three-headed tiki statue stood guard in Simber’s place to the left of the door, and Jim the winged tortoise, with his brightly colored mosaic shell, floated lazily in the air on the right, his white feather wings flapping just enough to keep him rising and falling without hitting the ceiling or the pedestal below him. They hadn’t sensed Simber coming until he burst through the door.
“Get Alex and Henry!” Thatcher shouted. “Bring them to the hospital ward right away!” His voice was harsh and gravelly, for he’d barely slept in the days it had taken them to return home from the land of the dragons. With Fifer limp in his arms, he slid off Simber’s back and stumbled to his knees, his legs numb and body aching from the journey. He got up and hobbled toward the hospital ward as the two statues figured out what was happening. Simber followed Thatcher.
Jim flew upstairs with the tiki statue behind him, mysteriously able to glide up the steps on his flat, legless bottom. At the balcony Jim headed for the family hallway to locate Henry Haluki, Artimé’s chief healer and Thatcher’s partner in all things, while the tiki statue slid to the farthest hallway on the left. Many of Artimé’s mages couldn’t see that magical hallway—they saw a mirror on the wall instead—but the tiki statue had no problem finding it. He charged toward Alex’s apartment and pounded his top head against the door.
In the hospital ward, Thatcher gently lay Fifer on a bed and looked around, feeling helpless and a bit guilty that he knew so little about the medicines Henry had so lovingly created. He went to get a cup of water and a sponge to soak and press against the young twin’s parched lips, in hopes that drops of water would seep inside her mouth and trickle down her throat without choking her.
While Thatcher lifted Fifer’s head and administered the sponge, he swept his troubled gaze over the girl. Her clothing was full of rips and stained dark with blood after Simber, the enormous winged-cheetah statue, had unintentionally smashed through the glass barriers in Dragonsmarche, sending shards like a thousand daggers into Fifer’s body. An instant later Fifer’s twin, Thisbe, had been snatched up by the Revinir—someone Thatcher and Simber had recognized as the former Queen Eagala from Warbler Island, who should’ve been dead—and taken underground to her lair among the catacombs.
They’d had to leave Thisbe behind. In order to save Fifer’s life, they’d flown nonstop for days, all the way to Warbler, where they’d learned of even more heartrending news: Sky had been swept underwater into the mouth of the plunging volcanic Island of Fire and was gone.
Thatcher heard a commotion on the stairs and looked up, feeling his heart in his throat. He and Simber had a lot of explaining to do, and there was no easy way to go about it. Delivering this news to Alex was the hardest thing Thatcher had ever faced, including everything he’d just been through.
“Thank goodness,” Thatcher murmured when he saw Henry racing toward him, one arm slid inside the sleeve of his healer’s coat, the rest of it flying behind. The two quickly embraced; then Henry slipped his other arm into the jacket and reached for his medical supplies. “Tell me everything,” he demanded.
Before Thatcher or Simber could begin to tell him, Alex arrived inside the ward. At the sight of his sister on the bed he paled, and his mouth slacked in shock. “What happened? Is she okay? How did this come about?” He looked around frantically. “Where’s Thisbe? Carina said—Carina told me— You were all supposed to be coming right behind them!”
Simber looked to Thatcher to fill in everyone as Henry began assessing Fifer’s condition, then working on her wounds, cleaning them and applying the magical plant-based concoctions he’d developed over the years. Thatcher spoke hastily about what had transpired after Carina and Seth had left the castle Grimere with the five young dragons. Things had not gone as planned.
Alex listened, stunned. He could hardly take in the information about Thisbe or how the Revinir had snatched her up and disappeared. Or who the old woman really was. “Queen Eagala is the Revinir?” he whispered. “How can that be? She’s been dead for over ten years!”
“We don’t know,” said Simber. “But I’m cerrrtain it was herrr.”
“We have to go after Thisbe,” Alex said, growing frantic. “She must be absolutely sick with fear! But Fifer—is she . . . ?”
“We’ll go after Thisbe,” said Thatcher, trying to calm Alex down. “Shortly we’ll start to organize and figure out a plan for that. But . . .” He gave Simber a pleading look.
“Rrright,” said Simber in a grave voice. “Alex, therrre’s . . . something else.”
Alex looked at Simber. His hand shook, and he reached for a bedpost. “Something else?” he said weakly. “What more could there possibly be?”
Simber’s body sagged, and he closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to see Alex hurt even more. After an agonizing moment, he opened them and looked squarely at the mage. “It’s Sky,” he said quietly. “She was worrrking on the Island of Firrre, and it plunged below the waterrr without warrrning. She was swept in.” He paused for a moment as he watched Alex, dazed, sink heavily to the bed next to Fifer’s. And then Simber growled, “She’s gone.”
When Everything Shatters
Henry turned sharply away from treating Fifer to look at Simber. “What? Good gods! You can’t be serious.”
“Sky?” Alex stared in disbelief. “No,” he said, faltering. Then: “No!”
Thatcher, his expression wretched, went over to Alex and sat beside him. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid it’s all true.” He put a gentle hand around the head mage’s shoulders.
Simber bowed his head. “I’m sorrry. I can’t begin to imagine yourrr pain. The shock of all of this must be overrrwhelming.”
Alex was numb inside, and his skin turned cold and aching. He’d heard the words and understood their meaning, but he couldn’t absorb the wrenching truth of everything he’d experienced in the past few moments: Fifer lying bloody and unconscious, Thisbe kidnapped by Queen Eagala, and now his beloved Sky, gone? The scope of the news was beyond his ability to comprehend. He was completely struck down. He couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t see—everythin
g wavered in front of him. He felt like his soul had left him and risen above his body to escape the words. Like he was a spectator looking down on this horrible scene. He doubled over, the world spinning, and put his hand over his face. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare. “Tell me what happened,” he cried. “Tell me everything.” Then he slid off the edge of the bed to the floor and crumpled there, sobbing.
“Go get Aarrron rrright away,” Simber ordered Thatcher. “And Crrrow. Hurrry!”
Thatcher nodded and dashed out of the hospital ward without a word. Simber watched Alex shuddering on the floor, then closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He knelt next to the mage to let him know he was there and quickly filled him in. He could do nothing else for him right now. It was the worst moment in Simber’s memory.
After a time Alex quieted. He lifted his head and looked through red-rimmed eyes at Simber. When their eyes connected, more tears started pouring down the head mage’s cheeks, and he moaned in pure agony, feeling physically sick, the losses hitting him in waves until he wished he could slip into unconsciousness to escape it.
He began to cry harder. And when he could finally catch his breath and speak a few words, he turned to Henry. “Is Fifer . . . ? Is she . . . ?” He couldn’t finish.
“She’s hurt very badly, but she’s going to live,” said Henry, determined and working steadily. His face didn’t betray the range of emotions he felt. He had one job, and that was to see Fifer through. He couldn’t bear the thought of Alex losing all three of them, especially after having lost so much in his life already. “She’s waking up now, Alex. I need your help—can you come and stand by the head of her bed? Let her know you’re here?”
The grief surged again. Alex didn’t know if he could get up, much less walk over to Fifer’s side. But he reached his right arm around Simber’s neck and pulled himself up off the floor. The stone cheetah helped him walk. Alex quickly tried to dry his tears on his shirt so Fifer wouldn’t be scared. “What do I tell her?” he said to Simber, in agony. “Does she know about . . . this? About Thisbe or any of it?”
Simber’s expression was filled with sorrow. He shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She’s been unconscious. Just tell herrr that you’rrre herrre. Tell herrr that you’rrre with herrr and she’s safe. Just like you’d have done forrr any of us back in the old days.”
Alex stared at Simber, a look of bewilderment on his face. His role as chief comforter in times like these had all but disappeared since the final battle. And he’d focused his care inward since that time, so much so that it felt strange to remember he wasn’t the only one who needed a guiding hand in this moment. With a start he realized that no matter how much he was hurting, he was the guiding hand . . . like he used to be. Like after Mr. Today, the original head mage, had died and all the magic in Artimé had disappeared. How would Fifer feel once she heard the news? And Crow? And Aaron? “It hurts,” he whispered, and choked back a sob. “Worse than any pain I’ve ever known.”
“I know,” said Simber, standing by him. There was nothing else to say that could possibly help. He could only stand by.
Alex’s mind awhirl, he reached Fifer’s side and stood near her head. He gripped the bedpost as a new wave of pain went through him and stifled a moan, then tried to smile as his sister’s eyes fluttered. “Hey there, Fife,” he said softly. “It’s me, Alex. You’re home. You’re safe.”
Fifer opened her eyes and focused on her brother’s face. She was confused. Her lids closed for a moment, then squeezed shut, then blinked open again. Her eyes filled with tears. A jumble of horrifying memories bounced around in her head. “I’m so sorry, Alex,” she choked out. She began to cry inconsolably.
Alex lost it again and cried with her. He smoothed her hair from her face and kissed her cheek, his tears raining down on her. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad you’re okay. You’re . . . alive.” As he said the words, he couldn’t stop the next wave of pain that came with the thoughts about Thisbe and Sky, and everything inside him shattered once more. He was in turns frozen, overwhelmed, and on the verge of blacking out from the pain stabbing through him. Yet here was Fifer. Alive. He clung to her life like a raft in the sea. A tiny piece of his shattered heart found another tiny piece, and they melded back together. Fifer was here. Awake. Alive. He hadn’t lost them all.
In that moment he loved her ferociously, more than he’d loved any other human being or creature in his life, and he swore in his heart to protect her from anything like this ever happening again. “Never again,” he whispered.
Alex had lost one sister, but Fifer had lost her twin. Alex had known that feeling once and the physical pain that went with it. She would need him to be strong for her now.
In the midst of Alex’s grief, something inside him, a remnant of his old self, fluttered awake after a long sleep. He planted his feet and then took Fifer’s hand in his. He looked her in the eye with a lifetime’s worth of compassion and, as gently as he could, told Fifer what had happened to Thisbe.
She didn’t have the strength to comprehend or react and soon slipped into unconsciousness, the words twisting around her mind like a nightmare.
• • •
Alex’s survival mode switched onto autopilot, and he began running things as usual, pushing the pain and distracting thoughts back so he could govern properly. He ordered Thatcher to dispatch Spike Furious, the intuitive magical whale, to go in search of Sky. Then he stoically delivered all the terrible news to Aaron and Crow.
Their reactions were about what Alex had expected, and the pain remained raw. But Alex soldiered on, with support from Simber and Thatcher.
“How is my mother handling this?” Crow asked. He ripped his hand through his long dark hair, feeling completely frantic to be a full day’s journey across the sea from her with not only the news of the girls, but of his sister, Sky. “And Scarlet? Is she okay?”
“Copper and Scarlet are together on Warbler,” said Thatcher. “They have each other for comfort until you can get there. Simber will take you once you’re ready.”
Aaron appeared stunned at the news and handled it with little outward reaction at first. He reverted back to turning off his emotions, which was reminiscent of how he’d grown up in Quill. Moving abruptly away from the others, he went to stand near Fifer, who was asleep, and tried to make sense of it all.
After a while he reached for Fifer’s hand and held it. He studied it, watching how her long thin fingers curled naturally in his. He felt like he was drowning and kept trying to surface long enough to let some of his emotions out, but he could barely breathe. And his mind kept going back to his youth, to when he’d said good-bye to Alex for what he’d thought was the last time, at the Purge. It sparked something still raw in him, and his grief was bitter.
“They’ve been forced to grow up like we did, Al,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where Alex sat. “All in one day. Separated and everything.” Then he shook his head, and the tears began. “This is their Purge.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking back to when the governors of Quill had taken Alex away while he stood there watching and thinking his life would be the better of the two. How wrong he’d been. “But which of them is me,” he added softly, turning to Alex, “and which is you?”
Alex looked away, curling into his pain. He couldn’t answer.
Word spread through Artimé. Soon Samheed and Lani hurried into the hospital, followed by Seth and Carina and Sean. Seth ran to Fifer’s side, his pale face turning gray from the sight of Fifer’s many wounds. The news of Thisbe’s capture made the panic well up in Seth anew. How could this have happened? Why hadn’t they stayed? Maybe they could have saved her. Guilt flooded him—he’d survived unscathed. He vowed to stay by Fifer’s side until he knew she was truly going to be okay.
A steady stream of friends from Artimé and nearby Karkinos, the giant crab island, came into the hospital ward once they’d heard the news. They were all s
hocked and brought to tears for the victims and their loved ones, expressing their grief and sorrow to Alex and Aaron and Crow. But, as it always happened in Artimé, there was little time to mourn. The exact whereabouts and well-being of Thisbe and Sky were unknown, and Alex wouldn’t rest until he had answers. Things had to be done.
With Fifer stabilized and being cared for, and Seth staying by her side, Crow slipped away to pack his things, though he wouldn’t leave until he was certain Fifer was okay—he’d helped take care of the twins for most of their lives, and he wouldn’t abandon Fifer now.
Alex also forced himself away from the crowds at her bedside. He beckoned to Aaron, Lani, Samheed, and some of the others and led them out of the hospital ward. “Let’s meet in my office in five minutes,” he told them as he headed up the stairs. “We’ve got work to do.”
Moments later Simber, Aaron, Samheed and Lani, Thatcher, Carina and Sean, and Florence, the ebony-colored stone warrior statue who taught Artimé’s people how to fight with magic, assembled in Alex’s office to discuss what to do next. Alex came in through the magical entrance from his private quarters, eyes still red rimmed but his face splashed clean. He greeted everyone with a look of determination that covered the pain he felt.
“We can’t waste any time,” he announced, and dropped heavily into his chair. “We’ve got to go right away. We need to find Thisbe and bring her home. And Sky—Spike and our other aquatic friends are already out there searching, doing more than we ever could. I just hope they find . . . something.” He leaned forward and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, feeling sick and helpless, knowing there was little hope for Sky to have survived. He pressed back the pain and took a sharp breath—he couldn’t deal with that right now.
“But first, Thisbe,” Alex went on, looking up. “It’s been days since she was captured—she must have lost all hope by now. I can’t stand thinking about it. Who should go? And how soon can we leave?” He looked up at the ones who’d gathered around him: “Which of you will come with me?”