Chapter One

Jon climbed the stairs to the tree house, where his grandfather was carving a phoenix out of limestone. Quixoran noticed the backpack over Jon’s shoulder.

“Ready to transport home? You did well this week, Jon. Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks. Er… Grandfather, does this business with Treefoul have you worried at all?”

“I’m concerned,” Quixoran admitted. “But not exactly surprised. With Efysian out of the way, a vacuum of power was created on Yden. It’s only natural to expect some wizard or wizards would emerge to fill the void.”

“These events have brought up some very painful memories for your father I’m afraid.”

“You need to know a bit of history, Jon. Many turns ago, I had two young apprentices, both talented and destined to become extremely powerful wizards. They worked through their rivalry to become best friends — almost like brothers. One was your father and the other one was Treefoul’s son, Guinn of the Fox Clan.”

“I’m not surprised. Their friendship ended badly. At the beginning of the most recent Wizards War, Guinn allied himself with a vicious warlord by the name of Lomm. Your father, on the other hand, refused to lend his power to any side. When he saw how destructive and self-serving wizards had become, Greggoran took a vow never to use his power again. Guinn tried to persuade your father to join him, to no avail. Out of desperation, Guinn used a black spell on his own sister to force Greggoran to break his vow.”

“Yes, and it was also foolish in the extreme. Guinn didn’t realize Greggoran had already transported to Yrth. When Fiona died, Guinn blamed your father. Your father had strong feelings for Fiona, and he also could not forgive Guinn for his actions.”

Jon frowned. “No wonder Dad turned his back on magic. Does he think Guinn is involved in recruiting the children of Yden?”

“Your father is aware of the possibility, although no one has seen or heard from Guinn in a long while. Efysian’s map indicates Guinn may be in a place called New York City. I have told Dorsit to avoid him at all costs. Dorsit’s warning to you is well taken, Jon. You must remain vigilant.”

Eager to leave enough time for magic drills, Jon sprinted through his schoolwork when he returned home. As he studied, he shot worried glances at the clock. His mother had already warned him if his grades dropped, his weekend visits to Dragon Isle would be curtailed. With a term paper deadline looming, he would have to squeeze library research time into his already tight schedule. In addition, his math teacher had hinted at a pop quiz in the coming week.

When he finally closed his math text, Jon’s lids were drooping. After he got ready for bed, he retrieved the vanyean seed from its hiding place. He stretched out on his bed with the seed clutched in his hand and fixed his gaze on the solar system mobile. Just as he’d begun to rotate it clockwise, he drifted off to sleep.

Jon sat in a dimly lit tavern tent, across from Moala the Merchant. Torchlight glistened off the man’s greasy, bulbous nose as he guzzled a tall mug of ale in one gulp. His hearty belch caused the other patrons to glance over in annoyance.

Even in his sleep, Jon frowned. Why am I dreaming about this creep? When Warlord Mandral was in power, Moala had had Jon arrested by cygards. He'd nursed a fairly large grudge ever since.

“Can you get me what I’m looking for or not?” Jon demanded, in a deep voice.

“Trafficking in magical objects has been made a class one felony,” Moala said. “It’ll cost you extra.”

Jon laid a small bag on the table. “Half now, the rest on delivery. And I require the utmost secrecy.”

Moala pocketed the payment with a smooth motion. “How do I contact you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch.” Jon stood. “And Moala… don’t fail me or you won’t live long enough to regret it.” He disappeared in a flash of light and a thunderclap.

Jon gasped as he woke.

“That was strange,” he muttered.

He sat up, the vanyean seed still clutched in his hand. After tossing the seed into the jar of erasers, he snapped his bedroom light off and returned to bed. Although Jon closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, one particular image would not fade. When he’d handed the bag of coins to Moala, his clan ring had had a fox head on it.

Monday after school, Jon skipped his usual run to hit the library. Inspired by his discovery of the ankh necklace, he’d decided to do his term paper on ancient Egyptian civilization and its symbols. When he read the origin of the ankh was unknown, Jon laughed. I wonder what kind of grade Mr. Dace would give me if I cited the ankh’s origin as the magical planet of Yden?

His attention wandered from his research, and he found himself drawing a Fox Clan ring at the bottom of his outline. Suddenly Brett slid into the adjacent chair with an armful of books.

“Hi,” she whispered. “My paper is on Egyptian gods and goddesses. Did you know many of them had the heads of animals?”

“I hope the animals were finished using them.”

Brett rolled her eyes. “You should leave the jokes to Fred.” She tapped his Fox Clan ring drawing. “Is this for your paper?”

“No, I had a weird dream about it. Listen, my concentration is shot. Let’s get out of here.”

Jon and Brett stepped outside the library and into what was left of the day. The periwinkle color of her blouse made the most of her green eyes and a slight breeze lifted her blonde curls away from her pretty face.

“I’m surprised to see you at the library,” she said. “You usually bolt out of school when the bell rings these days.”

“I’ve had a tight schedule lately. In between school and training with Quixoran, I’m freaking out about my work load.”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding me.”

“Of course not!”

Her shoulders moved in a shrug. “I just thought…” she broke off. After a short pause she pulled a clipboard and pen from her backpack. “Anyway, I have something to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Um, I’m on the Spring Fling committee. I know it’s two months off, but I’m supposed to get people to buy tickets. Are you planning to go?”

Jon felt the tips of his ears burn. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not I can get somebody to go with me.”

“You’re kidding, right? You know you can get a date.”

Brett flushed pink, too, and glanced at him through her eyelashes. A pleasant warmth flooded Jon’s chest. Does she want me to ask her?

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to take just any girl. Spring Fling tickets are expensive. I’d have to get a corsage and a tux, maybe even rent a limo.” He leaned against a pillar, as if in contemplation. “My date would have to be someone special.”

Brett bit her lip trying not to smile. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Well, yeah. But she’s so out of my league.” Suddenly seized with doubt, Jon tried to gauge her reaction. Did I read her wrong?

She giggled. “Just ask me and get it over with.”

Relieved, he cleared his throat. “Will you go to the Spring Fling with me?”

“I’d love to.” Her dimples made an appearance.

Jon beamed. “Then put me down for two tickets.”

“Good.” Brett made a notation on the sales sheet. “A limo, huh?”

“If Casey and Fred throw in, yeah.”

“Cool. Well then… see ya.”

“See ya.” Jon waited until Brett had disappeared from view before he pumped the air triumphantly. “Yes!”

Jon cornered Fred and Casey on the Quad before school the next day. Fred threw his head back with an exaggerated howl when he heard Jon had asked Brett to the dance.

“Oh, man! I was going to ask her.”

Casey and Jon both stared at him in disbelief.

“Fred, she’s not into you,” Casey said.

“So? We could’ve had fun together.”

“Friends don’t move in on each other’s girls,” Casey said.

“Brett’s not his girl. He blew it.”

Jon’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“You haven’t asked her out all year.”

“Yeah, I did! We went to Skate Night together and the junior class holiday party.”

Casey frowned. “Fred has a point.”

“Huh?”

“Those were group activities,” Casey said. “I went without a date.”

“Brett thinks maybe you’ve got a thing for Kira,” Fred said.

“What!” Jon felt the sting of a blush from the roots of his hair on down. “She didn’t say that… did she?”

He glanced at Casey, but his friend’s eyes were glued to the sidewalk.

“Jon, your face looks like a tomato.” Fred took a step back. “You’re not gonna explode, are you?”

“Casey, you know I wouldn’t go behind your back. You and Kira really hit it off.”

“Yeah, but that was months ago. I’m geographically undesirable as far as she’s concerned and she’s probably forgotten me by now.”

“I doubt it, Casey. You made a big impression,” Jon said.

The bell rang just then and the three friends split up to go to their respective homerooms. Although he hadn’t done anything wrong, Jon couldn’t shake off a vague sense of guilt. Why hadn’t he asked Brett out until now? And how long had she been feeling uneasy about his relationship with Kira? If he were any kind of a friend, he’d figure out a way to get Casey and Kira together again.

At lunch with Brett, Fred, and Casey, Jon made an announcement.

“Sela is having her eleventh birthday party Saturday night. Would you guys like to come over to hang out with me? Quixoran is invited and he’s bringing his other two apprentices. You can meet them.”

Although he didn’t say so, Jon planned to invite Kira too. Maybe Casey will ask her to the Fling. If Casey has a date, Fred can always take one of Brett’s friends.

Fred chuckled. “I dunno know, Jon. It’s a kid’s party. Will there be a pony? I like ponies.”

“Um, no pony. No bouncy house either.”

“That’s too bad,” he replied. “Guess I’ll come anyway.”

“I’ll go,” Casey said with a shrug. “Beats dinner in front of the computer.”

“If it’s a lame party we’ll take some sodas to the beach,” Jon said. “It’s a full moon.”

“Sounds romantic,” Fred said, snorting.

“I’ll be there.” Brett smiled. “What does your sister want for her birthday?”

“You don’t have to bring a gift. Sela’s inviting her whole sixth grade posse. She’ll get plenty of loot,” Jon said.

“Hmm. I have a good idea for a present anyway, and it won’t cost a thing.”

“What is it?”

“That would be telling.”

When he got home after school, Jon transported to Castle Ytherium. As he stared at the castle, however, it dawned on him getting to see Kira might not be easy since she was the daughter of the President now. Pretending more confidence than he felt, Jon strode into the castle lobby and walked up to the information desk. The uniformed attendant beamed.

“My name is Vynn. How may I help you today?”

Jon cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m here to see Kira Szul.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Er… not exactly. Can you tell her Jon Hansen of the Dragon Clan is here?”

Vynn laughed, shaking his head. “Do you know how many lovesick gents come in here claiming to be Jon Hansen of the Dragon Clan? Move along, lad. Kira Szul would squash you like an insect.”

The inkwell near Vynn’s wrist flew right into Jon’s hand with a satisfying thwack.

“Maybe she would, but I’d like to see her anyway.”

Vynn’s eyes crossed as Jon sent the inkwell floating toward the end of the man’s nose.

“Many pardons, Dragon Wizard. I didn’t see your clan ring.” He grabbed the inkwell out of the air. “Kira Szul is usually at the armory this time of day.”

“Thanks.”

Although an attendant pointed him in the right direction, Jon still got lost on the extensive castle grounds. When he finally reached the armory, Kira was in the middle of training several security officers. Jon slipped inside the room, unnoticed. He watched her demonstrate on a straw dummy how to slice and dice an enemy. Even though he’d seen Kira in action before, Jon was impressed.

A bank of storm clouds dimmed the sunlight streaming through the window. When the room was cast into shadows, Jon formed an everlasting orb of light and floated it into the rafters. The orb had a nice, round form, he noted. I must be improving.

Puzzled at the sudden appearance of the orb, Kira looked around to discover its origin. She smiled when she spotted Jon.

“Jon!” Kira handed her sword to one of her assistants and hurried over to give him a hug. The trainees scowled with envy.

“Were you able to help Dorsit?” she asked.

Jon pulled a copy of Dorsit’s “passport” photo out of his pocket. “I think he can pass for an Yrthling. What do you think?”

When she saw the photograph, Kira gasped in surprise. “He looks very handsome. But I can’t believe Dorsit let you cut his hair.”

“He didn’t want to, trust me. Brett had to talk him into it.”

“I’m sure his sacrifice won’t go unrewarded. Has he had any luck?”

“He’s already brought us one recruit. You’ll like her.”

Kira’s violet eyes widened. “A female?”

“The first female wizard on Yden. You can meet her at Sela’s birthday party four days from now. Casey, Fred, and Brett will be there. Max and Quixoran are coming, too. Sela would love for you to come… and so would I.”

As he waited for Kira’s response, Jon’s stomach knotted up. What’s wrong with me? It’s not like I’m asking her for a date.

“If you’ll be my escort, I would love to attend Sela’s party. I haven’t been out of this castle in months.”

Relief spread through Jon’s body, making him feel as light as the everlasting orb overhead.

“Excellent. Sela’s party is shaping up to be a lot of fun.”

As Jon left the armory, he felt inexplicably brash. Ever since his weird dream, he’d been curious about Moala the Merchant. Brushing aside all caution, he decided to transport to the town formerly known as Mandral Village to search him out.

The town, now called Wyckcrest, was a lot more prosperous since he’d been there last. The dirt road had been widened and most of the ragged tents had been replaced with buildings fashioned from stone. Jon admired the pretty wooden shingles curving over the hard edges of the rooftops. Admittedly the village still wasn’t quite as charming as Ylan, but the absence of Warlord Mandral and his cygard thugs had definitely improved its fortunes.

Many shops were shutting down as Jon arrived. He hastened to Moala’s booth, but was disappointed to find it already closed for the evening. Just as he was about to transport home, Moala emerged from the newly constructed tavern across the street. The merchant glanced around in a furtive manner, pulled a hooded cowl over his head, and then scurried off with a steaming pot clutched in his hand.

His interest aroused, Jon decided to tail him.

A short way from town, Moala cut into the forest and headed along a narrow path. As Jon followed, he picked up the lingering scent of whatever was in the pot — some kind of potato soup, from the smell of it. Apparently the tavern has takeout. Rainclouds combined with a thick canopy of branches overhead to obscure what little light remained of the day. Ophelia tried to help by glowing, but Jon was worried Moala would see the illumination. He took the precaution of turning his ring palm-inward to extinguish the light. Cast into near darkness on the unfamiliar path, Jon stumbled over tree roots and stepped on brittle twigs. So much for stealth. Fortunately the cicadas were spinning their high-pitched song, and Jon’s noisy progress was just part of the din.

Moala arrived at a miserable hovel situated in a small clearing. While the man fumbled unsuccessfully with the door latch, Jon ducked behind a tree. He shook his head, disappointed. So far, his short-lived career as a spy hadn’t panned out. He’d learned Moala evidently didn’t like to cook, enjoyed potato soup for dinner, and lived in a dump. A steadily increasing rainfall added to Jon’s annoyance. Moisture dampened his hair and slid underneath his collar.

Just when Jon decided to abandon his surveillance, a wizard transported next the hovel. His hooded cowl obscured his features, but Jon knew the wizard was dangerous by the crippling warning pain Ophelia inflicted up his arm. Since the clan ring alert worked both ways, he wrenched Ophelia off his finger and slid her into the pocket of his jeans.

A deep voice rose even above the cicadas and rainfall. “Do you have it, Moala?”

The merchant plastered a smile onto his greasy face. “There is good news, Guinn.”

When Moala mentioned the wizard’s name, Jon’s eyes widened. Guinn of the Fox Clan!

“I am narrowing the possibilities daily,” Moala continued. “It won’t be much longer now.”

“I’m past impatient.”

Moala blanched. “It’s been cleverly concealed, but I have a few more leads to follow. Give me a little more time.”

With a slight movement of his fingers, Guinn magically yanked the pot from Moala’s hand. The pot hovered over Moala’s head and then tipped itself upside down. As the burning hot liquid soaked through the fabric and scalded his scalp, Moala snatched his cowl off with a yelp.

“Enjoy your dinner,” Guinn said. “If you don’t find what I’m looking for, those burns will be the least of your pain.”

The wizard disappeared, and Moala let loose with a litany of curses. He kicked the hovel door open and banged it shut behind him. Until then, Jon hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. Lightning and rolling thunder assailed his ears. Time to go. He retrieved Ophelia and slid her onto his finger.

Without any warning, Jon flew backward, right into a tree. Just when he managed to focus his eyes, the hooded wizard stepped into view.

Oh, no.

Dazed, Jon struggled to recover. Guinn’s fingers moved and Jon barely managed to deflect his binding spell. Fueled by adrenaline, Jon returned as strong a repulsion wave as he could muster. Caught by surprise, the Fox Clan wizard was blasted off his feet. Jon didn’t linger to savor the moment. He transported home.

When he materialized in his room, he was so amped up he couldn’t catch his breath. Pacing back and forth, he raked his wet hair off his face with his fingers.

“I just fought a powerful wizard.” He stopped pacing. “I just fought a powerful wizard — and won!”

At first he was jubilant, but as the impact of his words seared themselves into his consciousness, Jon’s mirth faded. The only reason I’m alive is my sparring drill practice and the element of surprise. Guinn didn’t think I was capable of defending myself. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

Jon paused to stare at his reflection in the mirror.

Guinn had seen his face, but Jon couldn’t identify the Fox Clan wizard except by his distinctive voice. I need to tell Dad, but how? Considering his father’s history with Guinn, Jon hesitated to talk to him about it.

“What on Yden have I done, Ophelia?”

Jon sank down on his bed and dropped his head in his hands.

Chapter Seven