Faith
Unwilling to wait even a minute before setting off to find Jaladay, Promi refused his parents’ invitation to spend the night with them in their ring of mist. As lacey shreds floated by, darkening toward the end of the day, he felt only increased urgency to find his sister.
Even if that meant dealing with mistwraiths.
Promi’s parting from his parents was hurried, as well as awkward. Though they didn’t speak any words, their expressions said enough. Promi knew he’d never forget his mother’s misty blue eyes, so full of worry, and his father’s careworn face, weighed down by everything that had struck his world, as well as his family.
Saying good-bye to Theosor was no easier. Promi gave the wind lion a hug, burying his face in the thick mane. He breathed in the rich smell of Theosor’s fur, which reminded him of all they had done together. And he couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d ever smell that again.
Looking into the lion’s deep brown eyes, Promi said telepathically, Travel far and stay safe, my friend.
“It will be hard for either of us to stay safe,” Theosor replied.
“Are you saying,” asked Promi with a hint of a grin, “that it will be impossible?”
“Our specialty,” rumbled the wind lion. But there was no joy in his words.
“Well, manfool,” said a grumpy voice on Promi’s shoulder. “We can keep on delaying or we can get going. Your choice.”
With a sigh, Promi said, “You really don’t have to come, you know.”
“Of course I do, you bumblebrained idiot! Why . . . you could get destroyed.”
Promi raised an eyebrow, surprised to hear such an unusual expression of concern for his well-being. Touched by the kermuncle’s kindness, he started to say thanks—when Kermi finished his comment.
“And what fun would that be, if I’m not around to see it?”
Promi clenched his jaw.
“Besides,” Kermi continued with a rap of his tail on the young man’s back, “the whole point of this exercise is to rescue Jaladay without getting her killed. And I sincerely doubt you can do that without my help.”
“Let’s go, then.”
As Kermi settled into position, wrapping his tail around Promi’s neck, Promi felt strangely comforted. In a way he didn’t want to admit, he actually felt grateful to have some company on this mission. Even the company of a little blue demon he’d often wanted to strangle.
With a last glance at his parents and Theosor, Promi leaped. Up into the swirling mist he soared, knowing only his goal—but utterly unsure how to accomplish it. Where could Jaladay be? And how could they find her?
“Where is our first stop, manfool?” asked Kermi in his ear.
“Well, um, I . . .”
“Good. I’m so relieved. For a moment there I was worried you might actually have a plan! And then I might have fallen off in shock.”
Ignoring him, Promi announced, “We’ll go to that cloudfield where she was last seen. To see if we can learn anything about those mistwraiths.”
“Fine, fine,” grumbled his passenger.
“One thing I can tell you for certain,” said Promi. “Despite what my father said, there is no way I’m ever going to touch one of those shadowy monsters on purpose. And I’m definitely not going to give it any love!”
“For once, manfool, I must agree with you.”
Considering his thorny relationship with his father, Promi thought, He may have been right about the veil. But how can I possibly trust him when he gives me such crazy, suicidal advice?
“That problem,” said Kermi, who had heard his thoughts, “could be tougher than rescuing your sister.”
Through the billowing clouds they soared. Even though the dim light at this time of day cast many of the clouds in shadow, Promi saw glimpses of life—whole civilizations, even—within their darkening vapors. As always, the spirit realm’s mysterious ways intrigued him. How many worlds existed here among the clouds? What endless varieties of shapes and sizes did they take?
Plus one more question that haunted him as they flew through the darkening mist: would all those worlds survive whatever was to come?
Promi’s thoughts turned to Atlanta. Would her precious forest be one of the places that didn’t survive? He knew from his encounters with Narkazan and his henchman Grukarr that seizing the sources of magic in the Great Forest would be a top priority. Fortunately, Grukarr had died in the earthquake that created Atlantis . . . but it seemed Narkazan was still around. And if so, he’d be more dangerous than ever—as well as more determined to conquer the Earth and plunder its treasures.
It was wrong, he told himself sadly, to tear more holes in the veil. But it wasn’t wrong at all to visit Atlanta. He saw, in his mind, her face. She was really extraordinary, despite her flaws. Not to mention smart, adventurous, and beautiful.
Frowning, he thought, Whatever chance we still had is gone now. Despite his vow earlier that day, he wouldn’t be going back to find her and apologize.
Atlanta, he knew, had faith in him—at least she did, before he destroyed it. And even if he couldn’t ever regain it . . . that faith had been a gift.
As Promi soared through the cloudscape, he realized, Nobody has ever had that kind of faith in me before. Except maybe Shangri. And Bonlo.
He smiled sadly, remembering the brave old monk with the white hair who had saved his life in the dungeon of Ekh Raku. At the cost of his own life, Bonlo had protected Promi. And the monk also taught him some valuable history of the mortal and immortal realms—as well as the Prophecy. Although Promi had been a captive audience—in more ways than one—Bonlo had filled their time in the dungeon with tales of wonder, tragedy, glory, great losses, and even greater hopes.
Bonlo. You gave me so much . . . even at the end.
Even as he banked a turn through the clouds, heading toward the spot where Jaladay had disappeared, Promi thought about Bonlo’s most unexpected gift. That belief in me. He kept telling me that I was better than I seemed, that I was destined for great deeds—even though he had no evidence at all.
Sure, Promi knew that he had, in fact, done a few things right. But he’d also done several things massively wrong. Like tearing holes in the veil as if nothing mattered but his own desires . . . which had also wrecked his chances with Atlanta. All considered, he still didn’t deserve that faith from the old monk. Yet he knew that, if Bonlo were still around, it would still be there.
Why, Bonlo had even believed, long ago, in Grukarr! Before Grukarr became a monstrous, power-mad priest who served Narkazan, he’d been a confused, damaged orphan boy. Bonlo took him under his wing, sheltering and mentoring Grukarr for many years, hoping to bring out the best in him. But that best, if it ever existed, had been buried much too deep to find.
Promi sighed. I just hope that someday, somehow, Bonlo’s faith in me will turn out to be justified.
Spotting a dome-shaped cloud in the distance, Promi glided toward it. Even in the growing darkness, the cloud glowed with a purple hue from all the flowers. And he could smell their delicious aroma, as sweet as honey itself, from a good distance.
Yet Promi knew that this cloud’s most amazing quality wasn’t its rich color or sweet scent. It was the cloud’s array of miniature worlds, each one distinct from the rest—an entire field of worlds.
Promi landed, taking care not to crush any of the honeyscent flowers. Instantly, Kermi jumped down and bounded over to the spot where he’d last been with Jaladay. Following the kermuncle over to the spot, Promi reached his hand in his pocket to touch his journal. Writing journal entries was a favorite pastime for both him and his sister, something they’d done together as small children and still enjoyed.
He stopped. Right before him, in the midst of the cloudfield, sat a blackened spot that stank of incinerated worlds and the creatures who had lived there. A few of the destroyed flowers still smoldered, sizzling as their remaining stalks and petals burned slowly down to nothing. But most of what remained was just emptiness—devoid of life or landscapes.
Kermi, standing in the middle of the scorched spot, growled angrily. “Mistwraiths,” he said, “no doubt about it.”
“How could they do this?”
“Very easily,” Kermi answered. “Mistwraiths live to devour magic and destroy life. They thrive on fear. And they—”
A sudden burst of crackling made them both whirl around. Right behind them, a pair of dark shadows was rising out of the cloudfield—shadows that vibrated with black sparks.
Mistwraiths!