I released my magic into the sand. It didn’t glow immediately, but slowly illuminated, like an old-fashioned halogen light. With careful hands, I released the sand and let it float into the air. Like hundreds of tiny fireflies, the sand grains hovered around me, lighting the way as I moved from the beach to the jungle.
The humidity in the jungle made my clothes stick to my skin. I jumped when I heard an unfamiliar chirp, though as I moved into denser jungle, I heard the sounds more frequently. Something was alive out here—that was for sure.
My father had been right about the thorns—spikes the length of pencils grew from twisted trees. They were easy enough to avoid as long as I paid attention.
I couldn’t avoid thinking of the slaughtered fairies as I walked. The horrific image of their tiny mangled bodies deeply disturbed me. I feared it would haunt me always, no matter how hard I wished to forget it. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps the dragons themselves could be responsible for the fairy murders, but I quickly dismissed that explanation. Dragons were magical creatures, and they would’ve had the same abhorrent reaction I’d had if they’d slaughtered the fairies.
I entered a small clearing. A brook took up most of the space. Its gurgling was the only sound to break up the silence.
Some sort of nobbinflies danced over the water. I’d never before seen a species with two sets of wings or barbed tails. They made a quiet hissing that I only now noticed. A greenish glow emanated from their humanlike bodies. Their faces and eyes were reminiscent of a cat’s, though I’d never seen nobbinflies with scales instead of fur. Perhaps they weren’t nobbinflies at all. Their green-tinted magic hinted at dragon ancestry.
One of the creatures took notice of me. It hovered a little closer, seeming interested in my glowing sand cloud. I took a step back. It lingered a second more, took one last glance at the cloud, and floated soundlessly back to the brook to join its companions.
Odd.
I left the creatures to journey deeper into the forest. The jungle noises returned as I retreated from the nobbinflies.
As I walked, I thought about the island. I’d studied Faythander’s species when I was a child growing up in Fan’twar’s caves, but most books focused on the mainland creatures. Why weren’t these islands explored more? The trip here hadn’t been easy, but Captain Tobin had proved it was possible. Something didn’t add up.
The elves were technologically and magically advanced. They’d built cities, light-rails—I’d even heard rumors of a Mars colony—so why hadn’t they explored these islands?
The jungle thinned as I reached a precipice. I felt thankful to have my sand cloud, or else I might not have noticed the hundred-foot drop-off. The gorge stretched into a long valley that ended at the foot of the volcanic mountains. Moonlight illuminated the glossy-leafed foliage growing at the bottom. How was I supposed to get down there?
My heart rate quickened when I thought of Kull possibly lost in these woods. I prayed he hadn’t fallen. Surviving a drop like that would be miraculous.
Pacing the canyon’s edge, I tried to come up with a solution of how to scale the steep wall. I had no rope for climbing down. It might be possible to use vines, but with my luck, they’d snap in half as soon as I descended. What other options did I have?
I turned to the volcanoes. A shadowy cloud of ash rose from the vents, and I spotted the dark form of a dragon circling the mountain. It seemed so close, but how could I reach it? Could magic help?
Back on the mainland, I used my dragon statue to summon Fan’twar. It was a long shot, but maybe I could try the same thing here. I took off my backpack and rummaged through it until I found my mirror case. Pulling out the slim wooden case, I opened it, and my pewter dragon statue glinted under Faythander’s moonbeams.
The dragon figurine felt warm under my fingertips when I removed it, and its weight was deceptively heavy. I had crafted it with an actual dragon scale inside, giving the metal a hint of life to connect it with the magic.
I stared at the statue. Was I sure I wanted to do this? The dragons here weren’t like mainland dragons. They weren’t used to humans. But I felt confident I could at least keep them from killing me. If they wished to harm me, they’d have to deal with Fan’twar’s wrath.
The statue continued to warm as I held it. I closed my eyes to focus and thought of nothing else except the figurine, the smoothness of the scales, the weight of the metal, the ridges and bumps of the horns and tail. Magic rose inside me, and I released it into the statue. It didn’t flow as smoothly as I would have wished, but it got the job done. The statue glowed with a faint amber light as I opened my eyes.
I felt the magic deep inside, pulsing like a beacon to call the dragons. I sat back and waited.
Sooner than I’d expected, a shadow crossed overhead and blocked out the moonlight. My stomach fluttered with anxiety. Whether this was a good idea or not, it was too late to turn back now.
The shadow sailed over me again, this time closer. Wings whooshed, sending a cloud of debris into the air as a dragon settled on the ledge.
This dragon was smaller than Fan’twar, with a thick, rough hide that would have blended in with the volcanic rock had we been in the mountains. It stood completely still. Only the movement of its slitted, snakelike eyes gave any indication of life.
“Human,” it said with a deep growl. “We are not accustomed to seeing your kind here.”
“My name is Olive Kennedy,” I said. “I come on behalf of my stepfather, Fan’twar, Sky King of Faythander.” I thought it best to make
