Swirling Shadows
Both Promi and Kermi jolted, as if they’d been hit by an electrical shock. And indeed they had, for the name Jaladay sent a current right through them.
Promi sat upright in the notch of the turquoise dragon’s wing. “What—I mean, how? You would? You will?”
Kermi rolled his wide blue eyes. He shook the remaining water off his whiskers and said, “What my articulate friend here is trying to say is . . . er, well—you would? You will?”
“Thanks for clarifying,” grumbled Promi.
“Indeed,” declared Ulanoma, “I will try to help you find herrrrr. But I must warrrrrn you—that will not be easy.”
Having regained his composure, Kermi hopped up to the base of one of the dragon’s perilous claws. “How is it even possible? Have you ever met Jaladay? Do you know anything about her?”
The turquoise dragon raised her mighty head, making the ocean-glass earring clink against her scales. “We spoke only once, verrrrry brrrrriefly. Yet she made a clearrrrr and strrrrrong imprrrrression on me. She seemed highly awarrrrre of herrrrr surrrrroundings, in the way of a Seerrrrr, as she sat therrrrre on that purrrrrple cloudfield.”
“Wait,” said Promi. “How long ago was this?”
“Severrrrral days ago.”
“And,” Promi pressed, “was the cloudfield full of tiny flower worlds?”
Ulanoma lowered her head so that one huge golden eye was right beside him. “Yes, young voyagerrrrr. How did you everrrrr know?”
“Because that was the place where she disappeared! You might have been the very last being to have seen her.”
The dragon’s eyebrow lifted, knocking off a few starfish that had been clinging to the scales. As they splashed into the sea below, Ulanoma nodded her huge head. “Now I underrrrrstand.”
“Underrrrrstand what?” asked both Promi and Kermi at once.
“Why herrrrr message came to me.”
“What message?” Promi demanded.
The turquoise dragon lifted her other wing, gesturing toward the constantly shifting clouds of the spirit realm. “Everrrrrywherrrrre, new worrrrrlds abound. The morrrrre I have explorrrrred this rrrrrealm, the morrrrre rrrrremains to be discoverrrrrred. And each of those worrrrrlds has its own individual rrrrrules.”
Promi pushed the wet locks of hair off his brow. “What does that have to do with Jaladay?”
“Only this,” rumbled Ulanoma. “One of the rrrrrules that applies in any parrrrrt of the spirrrrrit rrrrrealm is that someone who is a Seerrrrr can telepath a message to the last being she saw! No matterrrrr how farrrrr away.”
“I never knew that,” said Promi.
“Like most things, manfool.” Kermi jumped onto his shoulder and growled, “Let me handle this, will you?”
Turning his tiny face toward the dragon’s immense one, the kermuncle said, “So she contacted you, did she? What did she say?”
Ulanoma sighed, making her great nostrils flare. “Verrrrry little. You see . . . the message was hurrrrried, incomplete. Not at all underrrrrstandable.”
Promi shook his head in disappointment. So did Kermi, who grumbled, “Then we have no way to find her.”
“Not trrrrrue,” declared the dragon. She shook her head, flashing her luminous scales. “I was about to say, herrrrr message was not at all underrrrrstandable—except to anotherrrrr Seerrrrr.”
As her two companions stared at her in surprise, Ulanoma explained, “My powerrrrrs as a Seerrrrr arrrrre bound up with my ocean-glass crrrrrystal. It magnifies whateverrrrr visions I have, painting images both in the crrrrrystal and in my mind.”
Tilting her head so that the suspended ocean glass rested securely against her jaw, she declared, “And what I saw, only yesterrrrrday, was this.”
Deep within the swirling shadows of the crystal, a small point of light appeared. It swelled like a distant explosion, growing more luminous by the second. Soon, misty light filled the whole crystal.
Suddenly, shapes started to emerge. Broken and half-formed, they flashed briefly, then vanished. A thin, pointed chin . . . an ominous shadow that trembled with black sparks . . . an empty stone cell . . . a jagged cloud that looked like a dark row of icicles . . . an eye, so fiery red it seemed to sizzle.
The shapes abruptly stopped—as if someone’s scream had been stifled.
From deep in her throat, the dragon growled—a sound that terrified any fish or seabirds near enough to hear. “Mistwrrrrraiths,” she said scornfully, “arrrrre therrrrre.”
“As is Narkazan,” added Promi, with equal scorn. “I’d know that eye anywhere!”
“Few have seen that eye,” Ulanoma observed, “and surrrrrvived.”
Kermi’s tail thumped against Promi’s shoulder. “He tried awfully hard not to survive . . . but alas, he did.”
Ignoring the provocation, Promi said, “If only Jaladay can hang on long enough for us to find her.”
“But how?” Kermi demanded. His tail twisted anxiously in the air. “We have absolutely nothing to go on—nothing to guide us.”
Promi blew a long, discouraged breath. Peering up at the great golden eye of the dragon, he asked, “That’s right, isn’t it?”
For several heartbeats, Ulanoma said nothing. Her earring darkened swiftly, as if most of its light had been extinguished. Then, in her deepest rumble, she spoke.
“Once, in my trrrrravels long ago, I saw those icicle clouds. They may have moved farrrrr away. They may be impossible forrrrr us to find—orrrrr even surrrrrvive.”
She clenched her massive jaw, grinding hundreds of sword-sharp teeth. “But if they still exist . . . we shall searrrrrch everrrrry bit of them.”
“Yes,” agreed Promi as he pressed his hand against the leathery webbing of her wing. “And rescue Jaladay.”
“Therrrrre is anotherrrrr prrrrroblem.” The dragon’s earring went completely dark, as black as a starless night. “Mistwrrrrraiths.”
Ulanoma paused, then growled again. This time, though, the sound was mixed with something almost like a sob. “I hate them morrrrre than anything in the entirrrrre rrrrrealm. Forrrrr they killed my mate, my one trrrrrue love. Even now, many yearrrrrs laterrrrr, I can hearrrrr his scrrrrreams of agony when they touched him.”
Both Promi and Kermi kept silent. Nothing they might say could possibly help to heal the dragon’s broken heart.
“Therrrrre is morrrrre you should know, Prrrrrometheus,” she continued. “Not only do I hate mistwrrrrraiths . . . but I also fearrrrr them.”
Promi shifted uneasily in the notch of her wing. “If this is too much to ask, Ulanoma, you don’t have to help us.”
Her great golden eye, sparkling with flecks of turquoise, peered down at him. “Yes, son of the Prrrrrophecy, I do. Forrrrr yourrrrr sisterrrrr . . . and also forrrrr my mate.” She nodded, making her earring bounce. “But it is good that my two childrrrrren arrrrre big enough now to fend forrrrr themselves. Forrrrr we may neverrrrr rrrrreturrrrrn.”
Bending closer to Promi, she asked, “Do you have a plan, Prrrrrometheus?”
Under his breath, Kermi muttered, “This should be entertaining.”
Promi chewed his lip, then confessed, “Er . . . no. I don’t.”
“Then,” the turquoise dragon announced, “I have a plan to offerrrrr.”
“Tell us,” said both Promi and Kermi at once.
“We shall searrrrrch the icicle clouds forrrrr the hidden forrrrrtrrrrress of Narrrrrkazan. If we find it, I shall face my worrrrrst enemy—the mistwrrrrraiths—and do my best to drrrrraw them away.”
Bending her enormous head closer, she said gravely, “Then you shall face yourrrrr own worrrrrst enemy—Narrrrrkazan—and trrrrry to save Jaladay.”
His expression grim, Promi nodded. “We have a plan. Let’s hope that it works.”
“And that,” Ulanoma added, “when it is all overrrrr . . . we shall meet anotherrrrr day.”
Suddenly, a deep roar echoed across the ocean waves. Though it came from far away, Promi recognized it immediately. And his face brightened.
“You know that rrrrroarrrrr,” declared the dragon. “I sense it comes frrrrrom no strrrrrangerrrrr.”
“Right.” Promi stood up on the dragon’s wing. “It comes from Theosor!”
Just then, the wind lion appeared out of the misty sky. Giving his thick mane a shake, he hovered over their heads, his invisible wings whirring.
“Greetings to you, great dragon,” he declared, his voice booming across the water. “I am Theosor. And I see you have met my friends.”
The dragon nodded, making her turquoise scales shimmer. “I am Ulanoma. Have you come to join us on ourrrrr quest?”
“To rescue Jaladay,” added Promi. “We’re just about to leave—searching for a place with jagged clouds like icicles.” Hopefully, he asked, “Will you join us?”
“No, young cub.” The wind lion’s immense eyes peered at Promi. “I cannot, for I am very busy patrolling the perimeter of a certain afterglow.”
Promi frowned. “My fault, I know.” After a pause, he questioned, “So why are you here?”
Theosor flew lower, hovering close enough to Promi that the young man could feel the wind from his wings. “I am never too busy to bring a message to you, young cub.”
“A message? From who?”
“From a mortal—someone named Shangri. She sent you a prayer leaf from the very same bridge where we first met.”
“When I leaped,” Promi recalled, “and you caught me.”
“That I did,” thundered the wind lion.
“Shangri,” said Promi, feeling surprised, as well as pleased. “What did she say?”
“Just this, young cub.” And Theosor recited:
“Promi, it feels jest like yesterday we talked on those cliffs above the sea. But five years have passed for us here on this world.”
“Five years!” exclaimed Promi. “That can’t be true.”
“But it is, young cub. Now hear the rest.
“Those years have not been good for Atlantis. We are in trouble, Promi—mainly from the people on that ship you rescued.”
At this, Kermi groaned loudly and Promi scowled. But Theosor went on.
“We need yer help, Promi. Atlantis is in peril . . . an’ what are we to do?”
Promi shook his head. How could he have caused so many problems in both of his worlds?
“There’s one more somethin’ you must know,” recited the wind lion. “An’ it’s the most important fact o’ all: Atlanta still loves you. I jest met her an’ she still holds a place in her heart fer you.”
The force of those words almost knocked Promi off the dragon’s wing. He steadied himself, but his head spun with questions, doubts, and longings.
“If ye really get this,” concluded the message, “please answer yer old friend Shangri. An’ if ye ever do come back to us . . . cinnamon buns will be waitin’, that’s a promise.”
Theosor studied the young man below him. “Do you have any reply?”
Furrowing his brow, Promi answered, “Just this. Let Shangri know that I got her message. Tell her that I will never abandon Atlantis, if it’s the last thing I ever do! Tell her not to lose hope. Trust me, hope has great power. And finally . . . tell her that I feel the same way about Atlanta—even if we can never be together.”
Theosor nodded, shaking his great mane. “I shall deliver your message, young cub. The next time her thoughts turn to you, she will hear your voice on the wind.”
Lifting himself higher, he said, “Now I must go. But first, I have two more things to say.”
Turning to the turquoise dragon, he declared, “There is only one formation of icicle clouds anywhere that I know. It lies far from here, near the Caverns of Doom.”
Ulanoma’s golden eyes narrowed. “Those caverrrrrns arrrrre known to me. Forrrrr that is wherrrrre my mate was murrrrrderrrrred.”
“Be careful, brave dragon,” said Theosor.
“I shall trrrrry.”
The wind lion faced Promi again. “If you are attacked by mistwraiths, remember your father’s advice. It sounds crazy, I must agree, but Sammelvar has great wisdom. Perhaps you should trust him.”
“No!” retorted Promi. “I won’t—can’t—do that. His advice doesn’t just sound crazy, it really is crazy. No one could love one of those evil beings!”
Theosor merely gazed at him with the deep brown pools of his eyes.
“I can’t do it,” repeated Promi.
“No one,” growled Ulanoma, “could everrrrr love a mistwrrrrraith! They arrrrre the most loathsome beings anywherrrrre.”
“So be it,” declared Theosor. “Good luck to you all.”
There was a whir of invisible wings—and the wind lion vanished.