Chapter 10
Bonnie measured the dragon’s words. Of course she wasn’t being treacherous, but she didn’t want to suffer punishment, severe or not. Yet, if he was Abaddon, he was really an angel, but was Abaddon a good angel or a fallen angel? She couldn’t remember if the Bible made that clear.
She looked at Sapphira, who was now staring straight at her. Sapphira raised her hand, as if conveying a stop sign. Silently they agreed to take their chances and wait where they were.
The dragon flicked off his beams and let out a long, “Hmmm.”
Turning back to the table, he flipped over the hourglass. Sand trickled through the pinched glass and collected in the lower half, each grain sparkling as if electrically charged.
“The time of resurrection approaches,” the dragon said. “When the last grain falls, the ceremony in Second Eden will commence, and those on the table who are called from that realm will rise to resume life there. But what brings life to them will bring strife to others. If you are in this chamber when the table is energized by power from on high, and you are unprepared, you will die.” Breathing a spark-filled stream, the dragon turned and walked toward the hall.
When the lantern light died away, Sapphira rose and lit up one of her fingers. “Should we try to open the portal here? That would be the quickest way out, and maybe we could help the people of Second Eden.”
Bonnie scooted to the table and eyed the hourglass. At the rate the sand fell, it looked like they had at least several minutes. “We have to get my father to give himself up to the dragon. Second Eden needs a doctor.”
“But we’d have to find both your father and Abaddon before time runs out.” Sapphira touched the bottle of liquid the dragon used to put Timothy into an ovulum. “We could try to do it ourselves.”
“Should we follow the dragon?” Bonnie asked. “Maybe he would help us if he thought I could talk my father into going.”
Lighting a fireball in her hand, Sapphira looked around the room. “I don’t see any other way to get out, so following him makes sense.”
“Then we’d better take this.” Bonnie picked up the hourglass. From top to bottom, it was about the size of her head. “That way we’ll know how much time we have.”
“Fair enough. He probably left it here for us anyway.”
Sapphira led the way through the hall. With their wet shoes squeaking on the stone floor, they had to soften their steps. Even the weakest squish echoed in the cavernous corridor.
A warm breeze blew past. Although permeated by camphor and garlic, it felt good as it swept through their wet clothes. Bonnie touched her sweatshirt, merely damp now. The humidity in this place had to be extremely low for it to dry that quickly.
As Sapphira’s fireball washed the hallway in pulsing light, Bonnie scanned the surroundings. Vibrant frescoes decorated each side wall—men and women rising from coffins and hospital beds, babies hatching from plant sacs, and a man walking out of a cave, bound like a mummy in linen wrappings.
At the border of each mural, a painting of an open door ushered in the next fresco. The doors were old and wooden with hinged iron knockers, and a dragon ducked his head to pass through. Each dragon at each door carried a lantern at eye level, the glow extending behind him halfway across the previous mural and also forward to meet the glow from the next dragon’s lantern. The series of dragons seemed to be a guide to passersby as they walked through the corridor in this museum of resurrection.
Bonnie looked from side to side, trying to find any of the biblical accounts of resurrection. One might have been Lazarus coming out of his tomb, but without labels it was impossible to tell for certain.
Soon, a new arc of light came into view far ahead. As the flickering aura bobbed up and down with the dragon’s now familiar gait, Sapphira blew out her fireball. They slowed their pace further.
After a few more seconds, Bonnie spotted the dragon. An old wooden door swung out on its own, and he disappeared through the opening, leaving her and Sapphira in the retreating light of his lantern.
A shiver ran across Bonnie’s skin. She felt like a character in one of the murals, or a lost museum patron trying to find the exit. It seemed that Abaddon was leading them along. He had even left the door open. They had to keep following. They didn’t have much choice.
Still pressing their shoes down quietly, Bonnie and Sapphira kept pace. After traversing another long hall, this one without frescoes, they stopped at a second door. This one was closed, and the dragon’s lantern hung on a hook attached to the ceiling. A long shepherd’s hook leaned against the wall next to the doorjamb. With the warm breeze still flowing, the lantern swung lazily from its perch.
Sapphira grasped a metal handle and pushed the door, then pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. “Should we look for another exit?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Bonnie said. “I think Abaddon was leading us. He even left a lantern here, so why would he give us a dead end now?”
“A test?” Sapphira asked.
“He did talk about a test to prove wisdom.”
Sapphira knitted her brow. “Just what we need. We’re in a hurry to save lives, and this dragon wants us to solve a puzzle.”
“But to him we’re intruders. Why shouldn’t we have to pass a test?”
Sapphira blew out a sigh. “Okay. Time’s running out. What could the test be?”
“Do you sense a portal?”
Sapphira furrowed her brow for a moment before shaking her head. “It seems normal.”
“A secret word, maybe?”
“I have no idea what it would be. I doubt that ‘Open sesame’ is going to work here.”
Bonnie glanced at the hourglass. It looked like about a fourth of the sand had drained to the bottom. “How about a series of knocks? You know, the six, nine, thirteen combination you told me about.”
“How would Abaddon know about that?”
“It can’t hurt to try, can it?”
“It can hurt.” Sapphira lowered her voice a notch. “He’ll know for sure that we’re here.”
“I think he already knows.”
“Okay. I guess it’s worth a try.” Sapphira stepped up to the door and tapped six times with her knuckles. After a moment’s pause, she tapped nine times, then thirteen.
Nothing happened. It seemed that the door glared at them impatiently.
Sapphira picked up the shepherd’s staff. “Should I knock with this?”
Bonnie touched the curved end. What could it be for? There weren’t any sheep around, and knocking with a staff wouldn’t be any different than knocking with a hand, would it?
As she thought, a slight squeaking sound made her look up. The lantern continued to sway in the breeze.
“I have an idea.” She set the hourglass down, took the staff, and reached the curved end toward the lantern. With a deft twist, she looped the end through the handle and lifted the lantern from the hook. As she brought it down, she backed away from Sapphira, allowing her to take it.
“I remember now,” Sapphira said, holding up the lantern. “The dragon said something about light being a key.”
“A key to every locked door.” Bonnie put the staff back in place and picked up the hourglass. “I guess we just walk toward the door.”
Extending the lantern, Sapphira waved it across the door from left to right. With a low creak, the heavy panel swung toward them. Daylight spilled in, though still muted by the gray overcast.
Bonnie shielded her eyes and stepped out into the valley they had left behind. As her vision adjusted, she scanned the scene—grass under her feet, a river only fifty or so paces away, and several statues standing at various places.
Sapphira joined her. “Now to find your father.”
The rusty hinges sounded again. Bonnie spun back, but there was no wooden door, just a rectangular hole in the scenery that led into the hallway. When the panel closed, the gap filled in, leaving no sign of the passage to the resurrection chamber.
She tried to touch the invisible door, but her hand passed right through. “How are we going to find this place again?”
“With this.” Sapphira set the lantern on the grass. “If we find the lantern, we find the door.”
“That might be a big if.”
“We’ll make a sign at the riverbank.”
The two ran to the river’s edge. Sapphira fished a grapefruit-sized oblong stone from the bed and drove it far enough into the soft ground to make it stand on end. “That ought to do it,” she said, clapping her hands together.
Bonnie nodded upstream. “Let’s go. The sand is almost half gone.” Holding the hourglass steady, she took off in a trot. As they ran, she searched for Abaddon, but he was nowhere in sight. Within a minute, they arrived at the waterfall. Bonnie stopped at the edge of the pool.
“Daddy!” she called. “It’s Bonnie!”
Sapphira looked into the deep water. “No sign of him down there.”
Bonnie scanned the sandy edge for footprints. She found tracks leading in but nothing leading out.
“Look!” Sapphira pointed at a long indentation closer to the waterfall. “Something was dragged away from here.”
Bonnie and Sapphira followed a trail of flattened sand and grass that ran parallel to the waterfall’s cliff. It led into a sparse forest of skinny pines and a few oaks. Since needles coated the ground, the trail was easy to follow. Finally, they rounded a massive oak and found his body sitting upright against the trunk.
“Daddy?” Bonnie dropped to her knees next to him. His clothes felt damp, and his eyes were closed. “Are you all right?”
“He is alive,” a female with a French accent replied, “but he is unconscious.”
Bonnie turned toward the sound. A teenager sat on a knee-high boulder only a few feet away. With waist-length blond hair, a long white dress overlaid with a brown tunic, and a sword scabbard attached to a leather belt, she seemed to have stepped out of a medieval storybook. A shield leaning against the boulder completed the portrait.
“Who are you?” Bonnie asked.
The girl slid down. As soon as her feet touched the needle-strewn path, her body burst into flames.
Bonnie gasped and stepped back, but Sapphira held her ground, staring.
The girl walked toward them, her beaming face still clear through the flames. Although her feet blazed, the needles didn’t catch fire. “I am a sojourner, like your father, yet I am not a fugitive from the dragon.” With her hands folded behind her, she leaned to the side as if trying to look behind Bonnie. “May I ask who you are? I have never seen a winged maiden before.”
Trying not to tremble, Bonnie drew a wing around to her front and touched the tip. “I guess you could call me a sojourner, too. I’m from West Virginia in the United States.”
“I see. And as you have likely guessed, I am from France.” She added a gentle laugh, the same laugh Bonnie heard during their search for the ovulum. “I have been told that my English carries my native land’s flavor.”
Bonnie looked at the hourglass. Two-thirds of the sand had spilled into the bottom. “We have to get him to the resurrection table. Can you help us?”
She gazed at Bonnie’s father. “I have watched this one. He fears Abaddon’s enchantment and has hidden for quite some time. But all who will rise from the table must willingly come under the dragon’s control.”
“What about you?” Sapphira asked. “You’re not one of the statues.”
“Until it is my turn to rise to new life, I have been assigned to watch over the reluctant ones. I am here to show them what they must become, spirits enflamed by an indwelling passion to serve God with body, soul, and mind. You might say that I am an illustration.” She withdrew a sword from her scabbard and rested it on her shoulder. “Your father was attacked by the pool’s guardian, a stingray of sorts. I rescued him and purged the water from his lungs, but he now suffers from the stinger’s poison.”
“Poison?” Bonnie reached into her pocket and withdrew Elam’s vial. After jerking the stopper out with her teeth, she pushed the top between her father’s lips and tapped the bottom, forcing the last drops into his mouth.
She pushed the vial back into her pocket and drummed her fingers against her thigh, watching for the slightest hint of change as she spoke through clenched teeth. “Come on. Come on.”
Her father blinked his eyes. As he looked at her, his brow shot up. “Bonnie?”
“Daddy!” She hugged him briefly, then grabbed his arms, grunting as she pulled him up. “Come on! We have to resurrect you from the dead.”
Billy felt a nudge. Was it part of his dream? Maybe.
Then again, maybe not. He turned his head. More sleep. He just needed a little more sleep.
The nudge came again. “I’m sorry to wake you, but we have a lot to talk about.”
Forcing his eyes open, Billy looked up from his straw-stuffed pillow. “Elam?”
Elam stood next to his bed, dressed in his new battle uniform, an orange short-sleeved tunic over two shirts—a thick, silver shirt with sleeves almost to his elbows and a red one with sleeves reaching to his wrists. “I talked to Ashley. It sounds like you and Walter had quite a night.”
Billy scanned the room. Sir Barlow and Candle stood near the open door, their hands loosely gripping the hilts of their swords. Candle’s companion rushed through the boy’s dreadlocks, making them sway.
“Yeah, we did,” Billy said. “How’s he doing?”
Elam touched the front of his tunic where a red dragon marching on his hind legs was superimposed over a circle divided into twelve sections, emblematic of the twelve dragons who were called to become humans in the time of King Arthur. “The chest wound is still pretty bad, but thanks to some heroic surgery by Ashley, Steadfast, and you, it looks like he’ll be all right, though he’ll be laid up for a while.”
Billy rose to a sitting position and focused on Elam’s face. Although a smile dressed his lips, his eyes seemed far more serious. “What time is it?”
“Almost second hour. That’s why I woke you. You said you were going to test the portal with Acacia, so you need to get started. Also, Candle would like another flying lesson, and we have some other business to discuss before the ceremony tonight.”
“Other business?”
Elam turned and nodded at Barlow and Candle. “Go ahead and gather the men and horses. I’ll be at the training field in a few minutes.”
“Valiant and Windor gathered them,” Candle said. “Dikaios and Ember are already at the field. I thought you knew—”
“Ahem!” Sir Barlow grasped Candle’s arm. “Very good, warrior chief,” Barlow said. “We will see you at the training grounds.” He turned and hustled Candle out the door.
As they departed, Barlow’s powerful voice carried back to the hut, fading as they grew more distant. “Never remind a commanding officer of something both of you already know. That was just his way of telling us that he wanted to speak to William in private. It is important to learn …”
Smiling, Elam reached down, locked wrists with Billy, and hoisted him to his feet. “Emerald told me about her guest, the woman who brought her son, the burn victim.”
“Right. Semiramis.” Billy stretched his stiff back. He wasn’t quite accustomed to sleeping on straw. “Her son was pretty bad off. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Elam patted Billy on the shoulder. “You did fine. Apparently she tells a convincing story.”
“You think it’s not true?”
“I’m not saying that, but after encountering her at the bridge, I’m not sure what to believe. She tried to get me to go another way, and that would have been the wrong choice.”
Billy picked his cloak off the floor and put one arm through a sleeve. “Being wrong about something doesn’t make a person evil.”
“Trust me. I know. I’ve been wrong plenty of times. And her story about being betrayed by Arramos makes sense, too, but there are holes she needs to fill.” Elam rested his hand on the hilt of a sword protruding from a scabbard at his hip. “Why does she live in the Bridgelands while her son lives in Second Eden? If she has a son who looks about fifty, why does she look no older than twenty-five? Why hasn’t anyone here ever heard of the village he’s supposedly from? Yet, Hunter has a companion, so it’s hard to dispute that he’s a true Second Eden resident.”
“And she doesn’t seem to pose any danger,” Billy added. “Clefspeare didn’t detect any.”
“Neither did Thigocia or Hartanna. They talked to her this morning.”
“How about Ashley? Could she pick up anything?”
Elam shook his head. “But that doesn’t really prove much. Back when they first met at the bridge, Ashley didn’t detect Semiramis’s presence. And since Semiramis is somehow able to block her thoughts, Ashley doesn’t trust her. If Semiramis didn’t have anything to hide, she wouldn’t be putting up a shield.”
“Makes sense, unless Semiramis doesn’t trust Ashley.”
Elam tightened his grip on his sword, and his voice lowered. “You weren’t at the bridge. If you had seen her that day, you would know that my low regard for Semiramis needs no further proof.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Billy firmed his chin and gave Elam a nod of surrender. Obviously this thousands-of-years-old warrior had a lot more experience. “I’d better check on Walter.” Billy finished putting on his cloak. “Maybe a good pep talk will cheer him up.”
Elam grabbed his arm. “Do it when you get back. Acacia and Listener are already waiting at the dragon launching field. And Listener made breakfast for you, so after you wash up, you can get started.”
“I guess you’re right.” Picking up a basin and Excalibur, Billy headed to an area behind the hut, filled his basin from a pump, and hurried to the men’s bathhouse, one of two in the village. Although it was little more than a five-station outhouse with wooden tubs for bathing, it had everything anyone really needed. After a quick face wash, he hustled toward the dragon launching field.
As he ran, it seemed that something pulled him back. So many needs beckoned him. How was Walter feeling? What was Semiramis up to? Did anything change in the garden during the night? With Ruth’s next attempt to resurrect Makaidos at hand, would the Vacants try to disrupt it?
Billy heaved a sigh. Others would have to take care of those issues. He had his own job to do.
When he arrived at the field, Acacia and Listener had already buckled two seats on Grackle, the purple dragon, and one on Albatross, the white. Listener, wearing a rabbit-hide tunic with a belt that held her spyglass in place, patted Grackle on his flank. “You and Acacia can take him, and I’ll lead the way with Albatross.”
Billy held out his arms. “Hugs first!”
Listener leaped into his embrace, her twin pigtails flying. As he pulled her close, he relished the delightful warmth, even the tickle of her companion as it nuzzled his cheek. In less than a month this sweet little girl had become like a sister, so loving, so innocent, pure joy in a feminine little package.
“So how’s the best dragon pilot in all of Second Eden doing this morning?” he asked as he let her down.
She grinned. “Valiant’s the best flyer. Everyone knows that.”
“Okay. Second best.” Billy reached for Acacia and gave her a hug from the side. “Ready to open a portal?”
“I’m not sure.” Acacia laid a hand on her forehead. “I woke up dizzy this morning.”
He cocked his head and looked into her vibrant blue eyes. “Any idea why?”
“I had an unusual dream. I saw Mardon shining a strange light in my eyes. It had many colors—red, blue, purple, yellow. Even in the dream, I felt dizzy. Then I felt a sharp pain in my scalp, and I woke up. It seemed that someone ran away from me, but my head was swimming so much, I couldn’t tell for certain. The dizziness has lessened, but it never went away.”
“Are you sure you should go? If you’re feeling weak, we wouldn’t want you to catch a cold or something.”
“I’ll be all right.” She tightened a belt that wrapped her tunic, jostling a coiled rope dangling from a clip. “I think I’ll be warm enough in this.”
“I know what you mean.” Billy said, giving his arms a flap. “I’m getting used to the cold here. Just a cloak is enough. I think the fireproofing stuff Ashley put on it makes it warmer.”
Listener looked up at the cirrus-scattered sky. “It’s the clouds. We never got clouds here before, and now it’s warmer. But the season of death starts tonight, so everything could change very soon.”
“Speaking of cold,” Billy said, “did you pack extra clothes in case we get some visitors through the portal?”
“Yes, sir.” Listener nodded toward Grackle. Two garment bags had been tied behind his rear seat.
Billy scanned over the village roofs and locked his gaze on the trees bordering the field leading to the birthing garden. “Where’s the rest of our firepower?”
“Thigocia was meeting with Clefspeare and Hartanna,” Acacia said. “Something about the lady in red and her son.”
“What’s your take?” Billy asked. “Can we trust her?”
“When I saw her with her son, her love seemed convincing, but I’m not sure.” Acacia folded her arms over her chest and looked skyward. “I think we should keep her far from the birthing garden during the ceremony. I’m suspicious about her showing up the night before.”
Billy nodded. She was right. The last time they tried to bring Makaidos back, a deceiver prevented it from happening. Semiramis’s arrival seemed too coincidental. “My dad will keep an eye on her,” he said, “and I’ll watch her with both eyes when we get back.”
Listener reached into a shoulder bag on the ground and handed Billy a fist-sized roll. “It’s berry bread. I baked it this morning.”
“Thank you.” He raised the warm roll to his nose and drew in its aroma—rich grain, ripe fruit, and something sweet, maybe honey. “What kind of berries do you use?”
“We call them pucker berries, because they’re so tart when you first pick them. If you let them ripen on the vines, the birds get most of them, so we pick them early and wait for them to get sweeter before we eat them. Walter says they look like the raspberries from your world.”
Billy bit into the roll. “Mmm, good,” he said, muffled by his mouthful.
“There’s Thigocia!” Listener pointed toward the village. A beige dragon flew over the treetops, casting a shadow on the village’s huts. With a flurry of wings, she settled down next to Billy. The other two dragons, about a fourth smaller, bowed their heads. Albatross seemed nervous, shuddering his wings and even spilling ice pellets from his nostrils. It hadn’t taken the dragons of this world long to assume a subservient position to the dragons from Earth, yet their only negative reaction was a hint of fear rather than resentment.
Listener trotted up to Thigocia and touched a stitched portion of her wing. “How does it feel today?”
“I am perfectly well, thank you.” Thigocia curled her neck and set her eyes near the wound in her canopy. “I considered asking the seamstress to remove the stitches, but she is so busy making military uniforms, I had not the heart. I would have pulled them out myself, but my wing bonded with the stitching material, so I need the assistance of skilled hands.”
Billy touched one of the stitches. “I can probably do it. Mom made me learn how to sew.”
“Perhaps later. I can fly well enough, so I will have no problem completing this mission.”
“Sounds good.” Billy pointed toward the northern forest. “When we get to the highlands, we’ll scan the area for Vacants. If all is clear, Grackle and Albatross will drop us off on the plateau and we’ll hike up the volcano while all three dragons patrol. Once we’re there, our return plan depends on whether or not Acacia is able to open the portal.”
Listener whistled a sharp note. Albatross lowered his head to the ground, making his neck into a staircase. Picking up the shoulder bag, she scrambled up to the seat and strapped in. “I’ve never been to Mount Elijah through the air. This should be fun.”
“I agree,” Acacia said as she climbed aboard Grackle in the same fashion. She settled into the rear seat. “We can bypass the skunk lizards.”
Billy laughed. A month ago, when he went with Acacia, Listener, and her brother, Candle, to Mount Elijah, Candle led Acacia home and took a shortcut through a swampy area inhabited by four-foot-long lizards that sprayed a foul liquid on intruders. Acacia wasn’t quick enough and suffered the consequences.
After strapping into Grackle’s front seat, Billy wolfed down the rest of the berry bread as he scanned the darkening skies. Clouds rolled in from the east. Though not yet ominous, they might soon obscure the mountain. Traveling by dragon rather than by airplane, however, would simplify matters. They could buzz across the tops of the trees and follow the footpath until they reached the lava field that signaled the approach to the volcano. Once there, they could land anywhere they chose.
Listener had warned him, however, that although the ice-breathing dragons were adept at landing on areas as small as the top of Mount Elijah, the volcano frightened them, so it was much safer to disembark close to the base.
Listener whistled again and slapped Albatross’s flank. Beating his wings, the white dragon lifted into the air. Grackle followed, apparently not needing a command. As soon as they rose above the tree line, the top of Mount Elijah came into view far away, its decapitated profile obvious in spite of thin fog veiling the landscape and the miles between them and the volcano.
As expected, Listener kept Albatross on a low trajectory as she leaned over and peered through the thick tree canopy below. Grackle stayed a few feet higher but still close enough to the trees for his wings to fan the tops as they raced by.
Listener extended her finger downward, apparently pointing out a skinny dirt trail through the underbrush, but the rushing wind kept Billy from shouting his understanding. She had found the path and would stick to it for as long as possible.
Billy looked back. Thigocia trailed them, flying much higher as she skimmed the bottom of the thickening clouds.
After nearly half an hour, the trees thinned out, giving way to gray and black lava fields dotted with scrubby trees. With sparse pinelike needles and twisted trunks, they looked like they rarely benefitted from the eclipse-cycle mists that once watered the land.
As light drizzle dampened their faces, the terrain gradually sloped upward, signaling their approach to the highlands, but with the cloudbank now obscuring the mountaintops, and the trail imperceptible in the lava beds, Listener took Albatross down for a landing. Grackle again followed and came to a stop nearby. Both dragons beat their wings and scattered droplets over everyone. Apparently they had not yet learned how to politely carry riders in this kind of weather.
Billy dismounted, and after helping Acacia down, he searched the sky. “Do you see Thigocia anywhere?”
Listener snatched the spyglass from her belt. Peering into the eyepiece, she swept the tube slowly from one side of the horizon to the other. After a few seconds, she pointed. “Over there. I think she’s showing us the way to Mount Elijah.”
“Okay,” Billy said as he tightened his scabbard belt. “Let’s hoof it from here.”
Listener stroked Albatross’s neck. “If Vacants show up, go ahead and leave without us. We’ll all ride Thigocia if we have to.”
Albatross spat a spray of ice on the ground and blew a series of whistled notes, low and chaotic.
Listener giggled. “That’s a challenge to fight. He’s telling me he’s not afraid of the Vacants.”
“Good for him.” Billy nodded at the sky, his hair now dripping. “Better keep track of Thigocia. The rain’s getting heavier. We don’t want to lose her.”
Listener raised the spyglass again. “We won’t. I can see her red eyebeams.”
“Perfect.” Billy set a hand on Listener’s shoulder. “Keep watching and lead the way. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”
With Acacia following, Billy and Listener marched across the lava field—furrowed rock that made for good footing as the rain fashioned crooked rivulets in the gaps. Soon the terrain steepened, and the field narrowed. The surrounding mountains funneled wet wind that bit through their inadequate clothes.
Now shivering, Listener stopped and lowered the spyglass. “I lost her. Maybe she’s not blowing fire anymore.”
Billy pulled her closer. “Thigocia’s around somewhere. She would never—”
A sudden burst of wind made them turn. Thigocia landed behind them and shook out her wings. “The path to the volcano is clear,” she said, “but the wind is fierce as you go higher. Once you reach the top, a firestorm might be impossible. Perhaps another day would be better.”
Billy looked at Acacia. “What do you think? Are you feeling okay?”
She pushed a strand of wet white hair from her eyes. “I don’t think my dizziness will affect my fire. I once created a firestorm in a swamp, so I don’t think wind will stop me. As long as we have plenty of time to get back to the village before evening, I think we should try.”
“Very well,” Thigocia said. “I noticed an encampment of Vacants on the far side of the mountain to your left, but they seem hunkered down for the weather. I will keep an eye on them.”
“It’s good to have you around.” Billy shielded his eyes as he surveyed the misty landscape. “How far to the base of the volcano?”
“The upward path becomes clear about a hundred paces in the direction you were heading, so you should have no trouble.”
Billy nodded. “I’ll recognize it when I see it.”
“Would you like a Sahara treatment before you continue?” Thigocia breathed a stream of dry air that bathed his face in warmth.
“It feels great, but we’d be wet again in just a few minutes. No use wasting time.”
“As you wish.” Thigocia beat her wings and lifted into the air. After flying in a low, tight circle, she ascended toward the clouds. “I will be watching.”