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Dedication

To readers, writers, and dreamers

A Hasty Decision

Aaron Stowe, head mage of Artimé, stared hard at Drock as the small group of mages and dragons flew toward the castle Grimere in the land of the dragons. The dark purple dragon was known to be troubled. He was the least reliable by far of all of Pan’s brood. Yet he was the only one making sense right now.

“You must listen to me,” said Drock in a low voice. He dropped back in flight so his face was next to his mother’s flank, near where Aaron and the other humans rode. “You and your party should leave my mother’s back and climb onto mine. I will take you home.” He glanced around at Pan and his siblings. All of them had glazed eyes and were intent on heading toward the Revinir and the castle. “It’s a dragon curse. She’s calling to us with her roar. They’re all being controlled by the Revinir, but I . . . So far I have resisted it. I’m the only one.”

“But—” said Aaron. A moment ago he’d urged Pan to turn around, and she’d ignored him. And . . . this was Drock. If Drock was making sense, did that mean that Aaron might be the confused one? He turned to watch as hundreds of dragons flew toward the castle Grimere, coming from all directions. Drock was right. The Revinir had to be controlling them with her roar. Calling to them, as Drock said. It seemed clear by the way the dragons in their party were all acting, and had been acting lately.

Aaron thought it through again: The Revinir was controlling Pan, the ruler of the sea, and her children. Most of them, at least. Was it possible that Drock could be somehow unaffected? Or . . . could the difficult young dragon be leading them into a trap?

Getting away from hundreds of fire-breathing dragons didn’t seem like a trap.

But switching dragons in midair wasn’t exactly an easy task. At least they weren’t flying over the gorge between the worlds anymore, but a fall to the rocky ground from this height would be just as deadly.

Aaron’s face shone with sweat. His lips were pressed tightly into a gray line. “I don’t know what to do,” he muttered, and turned to Henry. “What do you think?”