SpringFire (22 page)

Oleeda appeared before long, the relieved expression on her face when she saw Xyla and the rest of us somewhat marred by a bloody nose and swollen eye that would be black-and-blue by morning. I tended her injuries while Yallick went outside saying he didn’t want us disturbed and would take the returning mages’ reports out there.

That night, after we’d eaten a meal and the others had gone to bed, Yallick and I sat at the table and talked until almost dawn. I told him everything. He listened with rapt attention, starting in surprise and turning around to look at Traz’s sleeping form when I got to the part about him being a sage. Yallick turned back to me, an unexpected smile lighting his face.

“This is an interesting development,” he said. “Interesting indeed.”

“So what happens next?” I asked with a yawn.

“For now, to bed. The arrival of the red dragons changes everything. But tomorrow is soon enough to consider how.”

A half-played game of Talisman and Queen lies before me, the jewel pieces glowing as they sit on the black velvet, embroidered with glittering silver thread. The Queen’s Heart, made of ruby, gleams at the center. Ranged about are the Talismans: mine; emerald, my opponent’s, sapphire.

Anazian sits across from me, absorbing energy and my concentration. His power seems to suck the very air from the room. I can scarce breathe.

The game is almost won. My heart tells me that with a single move, I will Secure the Queen’s Heart. But my brain is frozen, unable to make sense of the game pieces. A wrong move, and my enemy will take all.

Anazian says, “Your move.”

I want to strike him, because I already know this.

“Perhaps you should give up and go home. Yes, that would be a plan. Home, where all is not as you left it.” The laughter turned brittle. “Go to your mama and papa, where you are truly needed. If it is not too late.”

With a gasping start, I awake. I’m needed at home, and I must go. Now.

Though go we to rest now,

Say not thou “defeat.”

The power of ages

Again shall be meet.

Ascent from the ashes,

Descent from the stars,

The power of ages

Once more shall be ours.

A strong one will quicken

And harvest alone

The power of ages

To lead us all home.

About the Author

The first thing I remember writing was a poem celebrating my seventh birthday. I still remember the first line, but nothing can induce me to repeat it. My poetry, with few exceptions, has not improved.

I discovered that writing is something I’m good at when I was in fifth grade, and that’s when I decided I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. In seventh grade, I read
The Outsiders
by S.E. Hinton, and that’s when I decided I wanted to write for teenagers.

And now, I really do write for teenagers. Only thing is, I haven’t grown up yet. Nor do I intend to.

Please visit my website www.teriegarrison.com