Hero

Saturday’s torchlight fell on the walls of the small cave they had entered. “These rocks are unfamiliar to me.”

“Peregrine would not have brought you to this place. But this is the faster path. And I thought you should see this before it crumbles into legend.”

On every wall there was a picture of her. In shadows and colors Peregrine had captured her wide smile and bright eyes. There were axes and swords and trees and her, over and over again. “Peregrine did all this?”

“Yes.”

“When did he have the time?” As the words left her mouth, Saturday felt a fool for asking.

“He has been dreaming of you his whole life,” said Betwixt.

“He told me as much, but I never . . . I guess I never realized what that meant.”

“I thought you should know.”

Saturday touched the closest cave painting, wondering how it felt to love someone so completely, for so long. The sheer grandeur of his passion made her feel small. She wasn’t sure her own meager feelings would ever measure up to this obsession.

“Come,” said Betwixt, and in a heartbeat he had morphed into a lizard with batwings. Saturday followed him through a gap where the ceiling dipped low, tossing her torch to the other side before crawling under to retrieve it. Betwixt had changed back into the minotaur; he held the torch aloft to light her passage.

This chamber’s walls held no paintings, only hash marks. “Peregrine began marking his days here. Eventually he gave up.”

Betwixt blew softly on the torch, and the flame rose. With it, Saturday could see more marks, so many that they completely blackened the calcite, as far up as a human hand could climb or reach.

“How long has he been here?”

“Too long,” said Betwixt. He blew on the torch again, this time extinguishing it completely. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Saturday saw a glow coming from a hole in the space before them.

“It is a slide to the witch’s lair,” said Betwixt. “I will go first, so I can catch you when you fall.”

A shadow moved across the hole, and Saturday heard Betwixt’s mass barrel down it. She counted slowly to five, giving him a moment to land. The mountain groaned, and Saturday felt a blast of air from the aperture behind her as the back half of the cave collapsed.

She blew a kiss to the dark walls around her, crossed her arms over her chest, and jumped.

16

Wings of Ice and Stone

PEREGRINE HAD just crossed the moat outside the witch’s lair when a minotaur dropped from the sky. The beast landed well, but hard, and then turned his snout back up to the ceiling as if he were waiting for something. The mountain groaned.

“Betwixt! Is that you?”

“Yes, my friend.” The chimera’s gravelly voice came from deep inside his hefty bull chest.

“What about Saturday?” Peregrine lost his footing and fell backwards into the moat. The water was hot. The Earthfire was rising up the mountain to meet them.

“Close behind me,” said Betwixt. “The witch is dead.”

Peregrine considered the mountain’s revolt. “So we are free now? Truly free?”

“As free as any band of misfits trapped on top of the highest mountain in the world as it begins to crumble.”

A cascade of pebbles and dust fell from the hole onto the minotaur’s outstretched arms. He roared mightily. The mountain roared and shook in answer. Another shower of rocks fell and Saturday came immediately after. Betwixt caught the large bundle of blond hair and rags easily in his brawny arms.

Saturday smiled at the minotaur. “No one’s been able to catch me like that since I was a girl.”

“You still are a girl,” said Betwixt.

“We must go,” said Peregrine.

Betwixt set Saturday down gently. Peregrine let her gain her footing before catching her up into an embrace of his own. “You did it.”

“Yes. I did.”

Peregrine tried to examine her face, but her hair was a wet mess again, caked with either red dirt . . . or dried blood. “Are you all right?”

He moved to cup her head in his hands, but she leaned in and kissed him instead. This was no kiss of exuberance or companionship; it was one of relief and hope. In the brief moment that she held him, he let himself hope as well.

“Any sign of the dragon?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Peregrine caught her arm as she tripped over the uneven floor. She was wearing one of his old kitchen skirts. “You really are a girl!”

Saturday rolled her eyes. “It was either this, or stay naked.”

Peregrine raised his eyebrows.

Saturday punched him in the shoulder. “I could still take lessons from you.”

“You never know,” said Peregrine. “One day you may need them.”

They ran back into the witch’s lair and stopped at the base of the cave-in. Saturday sifted through the ash and rubble to find her savaged belt and scabbard. “Where’s my sword?”

He could put off her disappointment no longer. Peregrine pulled the transformed ring from his skirt pocket and placed it in Saturday’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

There was no singing in the air as she touched it—it simply stayed the ring that it was. Saturday stared into her palm, snapping her fingers into a fist around it when she felt the mountain buck and lost her footing again. “You have got to be kidding me.” She closed her eyes and held her closed fist to the cold sky. “Change, damn you! I command it!”

The incredible magic she’d been able to perform now abandoned her. Try as she might, the ring would not transform. Their only decent weapon was the runesword at Peregrine’s waist. “Take this,” he said.

Saturday stopped him. “There’s no time. We need to go.” She raised her arm as if to throw the ring across the cavern. “Stupid, useless magical—”

Peregrine caught her hand. “Never lose hope. The gods have ways of returning such items to their owners.”

“The gods also have ways of forcing unwilling humans into destinies,” she said. “Here. You take it. I’ll just lose it.” With a nod, Peregrine dipped his head to remove the chain that held his father’s wedding band. Saturday recovered a dagger from the ground near where her sliced swordbelt lay. She also found the wooden hairbrush Peregrine had given her. He expected her to toss the useless item away, but instead, she tucked it in the pocket of her skirt. The gesture warmed him.

Meanwhile, the rest of the cave began to warm by other means. Molten Earthfire poured through the hole in the ceiling from which Saturday had dropped, turning the moat to steam as it slid across the floor.

Peregrine scrambled higher on the pile of rock and tilted his head back at the night sky. Pillows of steam venting from the mountain blotted out the stars. The hole in the ceiling had widened as the mountain shuddered. “We need a rope,” he called down to his friends.

“I need wings,” Saturday said.

“I can give you those,” said Betwixt. The air crackled with magic and a song much like the one Peregrine had heard when Saturday’s sword had changed in his hands. Betwixt was swallowed inside a ball of golden light.

Peregrine caught her by the neck and kissed her hard. “In case we never get this chance again.”

She kissed him back. “We will. We have to.”

“Because you’re going to save us.”

Saturday smiled. “We’re going to save each other.”

Betwixt whi

“Pegasus! Brilliant!” Peregrine whooped at his friend. He scrambled down from their perch, dragging Saturday after him.

“I’m a woodcutter,” she said. “I’m no good on a horse.”

“I’m the son of an earl,” he shot back. “I was born on one. Hop on.”

“I’m wearing a skirt.”