Invisible Wings
After parting with the others, Promi continued to walk down the street. Thinking about the day’s remarkable events, he didn’t pay any attention to where he was walking, merely padding along the cobblestones. He even forgot about the sullen little passenger who was riding on his shoulder, pretending to snooze.
Abruptly, he halted. For he was standing, he suddenly realized, in the very same alley where he’d first met Atlanta months before. He stared at the spot where he’d found her, looking as bedraggled as any beggar after being chased out of the Great Forest by Grukarr. What was it about her that had prompted him to talk with her—and, much more amazing, to offer her his newly stolen lemon pie?
Her eyes, he recalled. A rich shade of blue-green, they reminded Promi of a springtime forest and an impossibly deep lake, brought together by some alluring magic he couldn’t describe.
He bit his lip. I miss her. Curse the stars and moon above, I do!
A wave of regret flowed over him, as overwhelming as any real wave sent by the sea goddess. How could I have ruined everything?
He kicked a pebble down the cobblestones, walking aimlessly, feeling more glum with each step. Even if she did say those awful things . . . she did have one good reason.
She could be right. He heaved a sigh. Well, now I know exactly what I need to do! I’m going to march back out to that forest and tell her I’m sorry.
It may not do any good, he knew. But he felt real determination to try. I’ll go first thing in the morning, he vowed. And nothing will get in my way.
“Do my senses deceive me?” said Kermi from his shoulder perch. “Or is something troubling my dear manfool?”
Promi winced. The last thing he wanted to do was talk with Kermi about all this. But he couldn’t very well deny everything and pretend to be just fine. Deciding to tell the truth but keep it short, he grumbled, “I was an idiot to Atlanta.”
The kermuncle’s tail thumped against his back, as if applauding. “You? An idiot? Why, that is the single most intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
Shaking his head, Promi demanded, “Why did you ever come down here, anyway? Can’t you do something better with your time? Aren’t there enough people you can torment up in the spirit realm?”
Kermi’s eyes narrowed to blue slits. “Since you asked . . . I came only because Jaladay begged me. So I could give you a warning.”
“What sort of warning?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing too important,” said Kermi in a bland tone of voice. “Just a little advice to you about how to avoid destroying Atlantis, the mortal world, and the entire spirit realm, as well.”
Promi stiffened. “What advice?”
Enjoying the moment, Kermi yawned and sent a few bubbles floating lazily up to the sky. “Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Tell me now!”
“All right, but you don’t need to get so rude about it.” He cleared his little throat. “Jaladay had a vision of a Greek ship approaching Atlantis—a ship loaded with passengers and a blue dolphin on its sail.”
“All right. So what was her advice?”
“She insisted, manfool, that you absolutely must not save that ship! That if you did . . . a great catastrophe would follow. A catastrophe big enough to destroy everything.”
Stunned, Promi tried to digest this. “But . . . you never told me before it happened.”
“You never gave me a chance, manfool!”
“And you—” started Promi. But he halted abruptly, having just heard a sound that always stopped him short. A sound he knew well. A sound that, the first time he’d heard it, transformed his life forever.
The distant roar of a lion.
Theosor, he knew instantly. But why was the wind lion here?
Only then did Promi realize that, in his distracted wandering through the streets, he’d come very close to the Bridge to Nowhere. The structure, stretching partway across the canyon, disappeared into billowing clouds of mist. It looked, as always, so flimsy that it could barely support the weight of all the prayer leaves that covered its planks like a flock of silver-winged butterflies.
Yet he knew well this bridge was anything but flimsy. It spanned two worlds, one mortal and the other immortal. For those brave enough to walk upon it—or, as Promi had done that first time, to leap off it—this bridge reached amazingly far.
Drawn to the sound of the wind lion’s roar, Promi stepped closer to the bridge. Kermi, who had also heard Theosor’s call, stayed perfectly still. Clouds rose from the rapids in the gorge, swirling and churning, making Promi’s hair and Kermi’s fur sparkle with mist.
Just as Promi placed one foot on the first warped plank of the bridge, the wind lion’s magnificent form appeared out of the clouds. Theosor’s silver-hued mane rippled like water, as his huge paws strode closer. Somewhere near the lion’s massive shoulders, invisible wings vibrated in the mist. But his most striking attribute was his eyes—huge brown eyes that could see from one world into the next.
“Theosor!” exclaimed Promi, peering into those eyes. “It’s good to see you again.”
Then, speaking to the wind lion by thought, he added, I hope you’re not angry at me for flying between the worlds without you.
“No, young cub,” Theosor replied in his deep, rumbling voice that rolled like thunder. “I am not angry, though you cannot fly as fast as I can.”
“That I know! Only you could have outraced Narkazan and his entire army.”
Theosor nodded, rippling his great mane. “Nor can you fly through the veil without tearing it, for only wind lions possess the magic to do that.”
At the mention of the veil, Promi frowned. He started to ask the wind lion about Sammelvar’s claims, but before he could, Theosor spoke again.
“No time for that now, young cub. I have been sent here to find you—and bring you to your parents at once.”
Promi’s frown deepened markedly. He rubbed his foot into the plank. “Last time I saw them . . . it wasn’t exactly a happy reunion.”
“No matter,” boomed the wind lion. “Your sister Jaladay is missing.”
The young man jolted, and Kermi released a screech. “Missing?” they both asked at once.
Theosor nodded. “She may be in grave danger.”
Immediately, Promi leaped off the bridge and landed squarely on the lionsteed’s back. A whooooshhh of invisible wings—and they vanished into the clouds.