Dragon Ghosts Read online

  To booksellers everywhere, with love and thanks

  Contents

  The Gray Shack

  The Time Before

  A Fish and a Fire

  A Familiar Face

  Finding Some Answers

  The Plight of Arabis

  The Magical Robe

  Commence

  A Loyal Heart

  Fueled by Grief

  A Fourth Opening

  Hoping to Connect

  A Sigh of Relief

  Revising the Plan

  An Eventful Evening

  Flashes of the Past

  Searching for Smoke

  Trying to Make Sense of It

  A New Direction

  Brimming Over

  A Rocky Start to Forever

  Filled with Doubts

  Delicate Decisions

  Mother of All Dragons

  In the Night

  A Surprise Meeting

  Without a Trace

  A Pressing Need

  Preparing to Go

  Fifer Gets Restless

  It Begins

  Restless and Reckless

  A Tough Decision

  On the Move

  No Time to Lose

  A Different Course

  To the Castle!

  An Impossible Mission

  Rulers Reunited

  Chasing Fire

  The Quest for Maiven

  Fifer Connects

  Too Little, Too Late

  Captive in the Smoke

  A Race to the Top

  Reunited

  Catching Up

  Another Story

  Maiven’s Story

  Recovering and Regrouping

  Sneaking Off

  Good-bye, Good-bye

  To the Rescue?

  Alone and Away

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Gray Shack

  When the world of Artimé turned gray, Henry Haluki knew that Alex was dead.

  The medicinal herbs he’d been picking turned to weeds in his hands, and the ground beneath his knees became hard and cracked. The enormous mansion swirled and disappeared, leaving a small shack in its place. Hundreds of Artiméans who’d been inside the mansion spilled out of the shack’s doorway and burst through its windows, trying to keep from being crushed. The walls strained and bulged as if they were about to explode.

  Henry stared for an instant, trying to comprehend what was happening, and then he dropped the weeds and ran toward the chaos to help. As he went, he realized that his hospital ward and everything in it would have disappeared along with the mansion. He reached into his healer’s coat pockets to see what medicines he carried with him, but those magical products had vanished too. His heart sank.

  Cries and shouts rose from all over the property. It was impossible to know where to start helping. Henry looked around frantically as it dawned on him that his and Thatcher’s adopted young Unwanteds were probably somewhere in the disaster. His breath caught as he thought about how scared everyone must be. With Alex gone, he had to step up.

  With Alex gone. Not just away. Gone. For good.

  A sharp pain speared through Henry. He slowed and stumbled forward, crumpling into the agony of the realization. A horrendous sob exploded from him, the sound of it lost in the chaotic din. Alexander Stowe, head mage of Artimé, is dead. Henry clutched his chest and tried to breathe, blinking the tears away. Then he got up and pushed through the growing crowd around the shack. He had to keep going.

  “Henry! Over here!” Sean Ranger was inside, holding his young son out the broken window and looking frantic. “Can you take Lukas? I can’t find Ava!”

  Henry rushed up and took the boy. Sean used his sleeve to clear out the rest of the glass, then helped a few others get through the window. He disappeared into the shack to look for his daughter.

  “Go on,” a man by the window said to Henry. “Move out of the way so we can get more people out.”

  Overwhelmed, Henry hurried away from the disaster with Lukas. The five-year-old was crying. He was missing a shoe, and he had a bruise turning purple on his arm and one on his cheek. A thin trickle of blood ran down his leg. Henry set the boy down and examined him. Finding his injuries to be minor, he tried soothing him. “There,” said Henry, distracted and looking anxiously for his teens to surface from the stampede. “It’s going to be okay.” With relief, Henry spotted one of his and Thatcher’s recently adopted girls, Clementi Okafor, at another window helping others out. Her natural spiral curls had a layer of gray dust on them, and her black skin shone with sweat. Henry caught sight of Clementi’s brother Ibrahim, from the same purge group of Unwanteds, assisting her from the inside. “Thank goodness,” Henry murmured. Hopefully the rest were close by.

  Lukas sniffled, drawing Henry’s attention back. “Where’s Ava?” asked the boy. “I want my dad.”

  “She’s . . . She’ll be coming any minute. Your dad is going after her. It’s just a little shack, so it shouldn’t be too hard. They’ll find us out here.”

  “Everybody fell on each other,” said Lukas tearfully. “I got hit in the face.”

  Henry sucked in a breath, imagining what it must have been like to have the entire population of Artimé, on multiple floors and in a variety of additional magical rooms that took up no space, suddenly and entirely converge in the single gray shack when the mansion disappeared. He kept seeing more and more people struggling to get out. With other Artiméans rushing forward to help at the exits, there wasn’t much Henry could do at the moment but stare and feel the horror he’d felt when he was ten years old—the first time Artimé had disappeared and Alex had taken him under his wing.

  Alex is dead.

  The reminder hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. It repeated over and over in his thoughts. He tried to rationalize—tried to come up with reasons why it couldn’t be so. Maybe Alex had just gotten too far away from home and had moved outside of his magely range, assuming there was one. Silently Henry counted the days since Alex and Thatcher and the rest of the rescue team had left, and he knew Alex would have been in the land of the dragons for a while. So it didn’t seem likely that he’d somehow be out of range now if he hadn’t been yesterday.

  Alex. Is dead.

  Sean came running over to them, bloodied and battered, with six-year-old Ava in his arms. She seemed to be okay, with just a few cuts and scratches on her arms and one of her legs. Henry checked her injuries and made sure she was all right. Then he looked up at Sean with dread, not sure what to say in front of the children.

  Sean held Henry’s gaze for a moment, then shook his head sorrowfully. “He’s . . . gone. He’s got to be.”

  Henry swallowed hard. Hearing Sean say it made it seem real. Permanent. Sorrow enveloped him. But fear did too. If Alex was dead . . . what about Thatcher? And Lani? And Carina and the others on the rescue team? Were they dead too? He pushed the horror of that thought aside and nodded. “We need to get to Aaron—bring him over here right away. He knows the spell. He has an extra robe.”

  “Henry,” said Sean, “we can’t get to him. The tubes are gone. We’d have to take a ship. It’ll take days.”

  “Can’t we send a seek spell—” Henry cut himself off, annoyed and disheartened. “Sorry. Of course not.” He thought for a moment as his anxiety built. “Who else knows what to do?”

  Sean looked up. “Claire Morning does. She has a robe. She’s familiar with the spell, too.”

  “Is she in Artimé?” Henry’s eyes swept the area.

  “I don’t think she came today.”

  “Let’s go to Quill and find her, then.” Henry glanced back at the chaos surrounding the shack, confirming that, like Sean’s and his kids’, most people’s wounds were superficial. His adopted Unwanteds would be all right—they’d been through worse. And there were people helping at all the exits. He spotted a few of the nurses assisting the injured, but without medicine or the hospital ward, they couldn’t do much.

  Neither could Henry. “Hang on a minute,” he told Sean. He ran over to one of the nurses to explain where he was going and put her in charge while he was gone. “Keep an eye out for the rest of my kids, will you?” he asked. “Clementi and Ibrahim are there by the east window, but they’re the only ones I’ve seen emerge so far.”

  “Of course,” said the nurse, knowing it was more important for Henry to go after Claire so they could get the magic back as quickly as possible. Before chaos turned to disaster.

  Sean and Henry each took a child on their backs and turned toward Quill, where Claire Morning now lived. At the sight of the larger part of the island, they both gasped, because they’d forgotten something else.

  Quill was gone too. Everything there looked even worse than in Artimé. It was nothing but old burned land and sooty rubble. And angry, nonmagical Quillens were coming toward them in droves.

  The Time Before

  It had happened once before, when Henry was ten. Hours after Mr. Marcus Today, the first head mage and creator of the magical world, had been killed and Artimé had vanished, Henry’s mother had died of injuries sustained in a skirmish with the Restorers of Quill. Henry’s sister, Lani, had been taken captive on Warbler Island, leaving Henry with his grieving father, Gunnar, who was also trying to regain control of Quill.

  The mess of problems that had surrounded Henry in those awful days had left a permanent, invisible bruise on his soul. He’d clung to Alex as a shadowy helper. Fetching him cups of water or a bit of broth if he could get some. T
rying to come to grips with his losses when everyone else was feeling losses too. Comfort had been scarce. Artimé had seen its worst in the way people treated one another.

  It had taken weeks for Alex to decipher the strange spell that Mr. Today had magically sent to the boy’s pocket in the moment before he’d died. Sky had helped Alex—the world might still be gone if it hadn’t been for her. People had turned desperate. Water and food had been nearly nonexistent. But they had survived . . . most of them anyway.

  » » »

  With Ava and Lukas on their backs, Henry and Sean forged a path through the increasing crowd of upset Quillens. The people of Quill were not magical, but the world they lived in was. When Quill had been destroyed by fire, Alex had come to the aid of the contentious neighbors, pushing the boundaries of Artimé’s magical world to cover the soot and burned-out buildings and whatever else had been left. He’d created magical houses and workplaces and fields and even a lighthouse for them, and the people of Quill had accepted these things begrudgingly, having no other choice. They’d been tiresome and grumpy neighbors, but peaceful since then. Most of the Artiméans had at least a few family members there. But Quill’s focus on what was important strayed far from Artimé’s, and the two places, despite sharing an island, were still quite opposite.

  As they traveled, Sean and Henry scanned the crowds for signs of Claire, hoping she was already on her way to Artimé. The shock they both felt was numbing. Henry could hardly fathom what had happened. All he wanted was for the magic to be restored as quickly as possible so he could send a seek spell to Thatcher. If he got one in return . . . well, it would mean at least they weren’t all dead. Henry’s throat caught. The desperate need to know if Thatcher and the others were alive was all consuming. He had to shove it down and get through this.

  Sean felt the same way about Carina and Seth. “At least we were more prepared this time,” he said. “I just can’t believe . . .” He choked on the words, then kept going. “I can’t believe Alex is . . . gone.” He glanced up at Ava on Henry’s back, not wanting to say anything to scare the young ones even more than they already were, especially since no one was 100 percent certain that Alex was dead. But Ava wasn’t paying attention. Rather, she was looking around in wonder and fear at the desolate burned-out mess of land that used to be Quill. She’d never seen it like this before.

  It was slow going, pushing upstream the whole way. After an hour or more they came to a huge gathering of angry Quillens blocking the path, demanding to have their houses back. At the center of the gathering, hundreds of feet away, was Gunnar Haluki, Henry’s father, looking frazzled. Beside him was Claire Morning, the musical instructor, raising her voice in a way she’d told many singers to avoid doing in order to protect their vocal folds. But now she was forced to do whatever it took to be heard.

  “You must let me through!” Claire insisted. “I can’t help you unless you let me get to Artimé! I need to talk to the people there. Please make way!”

  The crowd around her grumbled louder.

  Henry touched Sean’s shoulder. “I’ll go help them.” He carefully lifted Ava off his shoulders and handed her to Sean so she wouldn’t get stepped on. Then he shouted with authority, “Coming through! Move it! Look out!” which was uncharacteristic of him, but as it was a new distraction, it worked. He pushed people aside, row after row all the way to the center, and caught his father’s eye. Gunnar looked relieved to see him.

  Henry reached Claire first and took her hand, then beckoned for his father to come and grabbed his hand as well so they wouldn’t get separated. They weaved through the crowd until they found Sean. Sean quickly herded them out ahead of the mob toward Artimé. Henry took Ava back onto his shoulders as they went.

  “Thank you,” Gunnar said, glancing behind him. They began to pick up speed to stay ahead of the others. “They weren’t quite grasping the fact that things can’t be restored without Claire going into Artimé.” Then he looked at Henry. “What news do you have?”

  “None,” said Henry. “We can only assume Alex is dead.”

  Gunnar Haluki looked pained, and he closed his eyes momentarily, then shook his head. “Of course, we thought as much. But it’s . . . It’s hard to hear that.”

  “It’s terrible,” Claire said. Her face was smudged with soot, and her cheeks had tear tracks running down them. “No word from anyone?”

  Henry shook his head.

  “Do you have the robe?” asked Sean, looking anxious. Claire wasn’t carrying it.

  “Not yet. I don’t keep it in our house in Quill, since it would disappear with the world the moment I’d need it.”

  “Well, that’s brilliant of you,” said Sean. “Where is it?”

  “It’s inside the gray shack along with the clue and the miniature model of the mansion. Those were the three items that Alex used to bring the world back the first time. If all goes as I planned, I’ll find the things in the little cupboard in the kitchen.” She hesitated. “I hope everything’s still in place after all these years. I’ve been meaning to go to the gray shack in the Museum of Large to check on the items once Alex left, but I’m afraid I haven’t done it.”

  “Hopefully everyone will have emptied out of there by the time we return,” said Henry. “There were hundreds of people inside the mansion when it happened. It was a disaster, all of them falling on top of one another from all locations—the living spaces, theater, lounge, dining room. The upstairs on top of down, I imagine—all squished into that tiny space. They were breaking windows to get out.”

  “Oh dear,” said Claire. “That’s horrible.”

  “It was frightening,” Sean said. He glanced at his daughter and son, but they appeared to be handling their fear. They rode quietly on his and Henry’s shoulders, sometimes pointing and talking with each other about the strange sights they were seeing.

  Their little group went faster, but the way became more difficult the closer they got. People began chanting “Bring back Quill!” as they converged into the area that, with magic, would expand into beautiful Artimé. Without magic, it was a small plot of land, and there was little room to move.

  “Let us through!” Henry called out. “We can fix this, but we need to get to the shack!”

  Sean began hollering too, though it was hard for anyone to be heard. They lost Gunnar Haluki somewhere along the way, but Claire pushed on with Henry and Sean. They had to squeeze and weave through the people who were packed all the way to the seashore.

  Then Henry stopped and grabbed Sean’s arm. He beckoned to Claire and then pointed to the gray shack . . . or what was left of it. Only one wall remained standing. The roof had collapsed. The rest of the little house had apparently exploded due to all the people inside.

  “Oh no,” Henry muttered, looking at the others in alarm. “It’s in shambles. Now what’ll we do?”

  “Come on,” said Sean. “Link arms so we don’t get separated. Children, hold on tight!”

  Sean led the way with one elbow, shoving roughly to clear a path to the shack. The others plowed after him, fearing the worst. Would people be crushed under the debris? When they finally reached the area, they could see that the exterior walls of the shack had collapsed outward and lay flat, so if anyone had been in the way, they would have been pulled to safety by now.

  Henry spotted the nurse he’d spoken to earlier and saw Clementi and Ibrahim and the other four of his wards present with them. He breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to look at the mess before them.

  The interior of the shack was almost completely torn apart. Shredded.

  “This is not good,” Claire muttered. She pushed her way over to where the kitchen cupboards should have been, but there was nothing left except piles of splintered wood, broken shelves, and shattered glass.

  “The robe has got to be here somewhere,” she said as Henry and Sean caught up to her. She looked frantically around people’s feet. “Maybe it’s buried under the collapsed walls.” Exasperated, she put her fingers in her mouth and emitted a sharp whistle, startling those nearby into silence. Then she put her hands in the air and shouted, “Attention, everyone! We need to clear this area. Now!”

  A Fish and a Fire

  Thisbe Stowe and Sky from Warbler, both bedraggled, stared at each other for a split second in the cave’s firelight. Then they threw themselves together in a huge, long embrace.