Commander Erich Donnar stood before his crew, outlined by the morning light against the window. He held his hands clasped behind him, slapping his gloves together as he paced, his blue eyes as calm as the sea. The first man ever to captain an airship, Donnar was more than just Rendor’s friend; he was the perfect choice to command the Avatar. With one eyebrow cocked higher than the other, he searched the sky until Rendor strode across the deck.
“Attention!” he called, bringing the crew back to life.
Skyhigh stared straight ahead, watching Rendor from the corner of his eye.
“The Avatar stands ready, sir,” Donnar reported. “Prepared to depart on your order.”
Rendor nodded at the news. “At ease, everyone.”
At last Skyhigh looked directly at him. In his dark coat, his silver hair slicked back, he was much the same as he’d been in his office—determined and supremely confident. The chain of his watch dangled across his belly. He had even placed a snow-white flower in his lapel.
“Good morning,” he said to the men. “We’re about to embark on the mission of a lifetime. Most men never get a chance like this, so consider yourselves lucky. We’re going to do something that’s been forbidden to humanity since the start of time. We’re going there…” He pointed toward the misty horizon. “Through the Reach.”
A murmur stirred through the crew. Skyhigh’s stomach did a somersault.
“The Avatar is the greatest, most powerful airship ever built,” Rendor continued. “You’ve all had time to study her; you all know what she can do. But the things on the other side of that fog out there are going to put her and you to the test!” The Governor glowered at the men, then broke into a mysterious grin. “And if you’re thinking I’m just some crazy old man, just you wait.”
Some of the crew glanced at Donnar for reassurance. Donnar just nodded.
“Now,” said Rendor, “here’s what you need to know…”
Skyhigh leaned in.
“Three days ago, a thirteen-year-old boy named Moth left Calio and crossed through the Reach. He has an object of great value with him. Our mission is to get it back. We’re going to find him and the object, and we’re not coming home until we do.”
Rendor gestured to Donnar to speak. “Commander.”
“We’ll be traveling low and slow,” Donnar told the crew. “We’ve taken on as much hidrenium as we can carry, but once it’s gone we’ll be stuck. That means no high speed climbs and no wasting fuel. We’ll be traveling in daylight only—no night flying. And there’ll be no friendlies to help us, either.”
Skyhigh couldn’t believe no one had mentioned Fiona yet. He raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“Question,” said Skyhigh. “We’re looking for a girl, too, aren’t we?” His eyes landed on Rendor. “Aren’t we, Governor?”
“Yes,” replied Rendor. His jaw tightened. “My granddaughter Fiona is with the boy. You all know that already.”
Again Skyhigh put up his hand.
“What?” snapped Donnar.
“I’m wondering, sir—just what exactly are we going up against?”
The crew waited anxiously for an answer.
“Things that fly, Captain Coralin,” said Rendor. “Now, all of you—do your job.”
Commander Donnar barked an order for the Avatar to depart. Up ahead, the Reach loomed and rolled, looking like it went on forever.
Like it would swallow the Avatar alive.
FOLLOWING THE RIVER
NEEDLES OF WIND PRICKED Moth’s face as he peered down into the valley far below. Fiona huddled next to him, so close that a blade of grass couldn’t grow between them. Strapped down in Merceron’s makeshift saddle, their bodies hunched forward against the dragon’s neck, they scanned the wonderland beneath them, struggling against the onslaught of wind. Moth’s hands ached from clutching the rope looped around Merceron’s chest. The buckles pressing against his legs had torn tiny rents in his pants. His dark coat flew out behind him like the tail of a comet.
The world below raced by in blurs of green and gold. The river they were following snaked through the forests and along flower-strewn hills. Low flying clouds smashed harmlessly against them. Moth could see forever.
He nudged Fiona with his elbow. She turned, and her eyes were bloodshot. All morning and afternoon she’d been talking to herself while they flew, chattering under her breath things that sounded like prayers.
“Look there!” Moth shouted. “How’s that look?”
Fiona looked down. Merceron’s head tilted to see what Moth had found. Throughout the day they’d stopped so the dragon could rest, always in places where no one could see them.
“Yes,” said Fiona, anxious to be on land again. The clearing was close to the river and surrounded by hills. “Down, Merceron, please!”
Merceron tilted his wings, slowing them as they wheeled downward. He had tied his spectacles around his ears to keep them from falling off. His velvet jacket snapped underneath the saddle he’d strapped across his back. Moth heard the dragon sigh with relief.
“We’ll rest now, Merceron,” Moth told him, patting his scaly neck. “You can catch your breath a while.”
Beside them soared Lady Esme, spiraling down, chasing the dragon to the ground. Moth called to her and Esme answered back. They were all tired and in pain, yet Moth couldn’t help but feel delighted. Fiona turned green again.
“Oh, I hate this,” she groaned. “You hear me, Moth? I hate flying!”
Moth’s own head swam as they corkscrewed down. Merceron’s wings shot out as the ground rose up. Moth and Fiona held on as the dragon bounced to earth, the shock of their landing jerking them in the saddle.
“I’m gonna be sick,” croaked Fiona. She began fumbling with her straps. “Moth, help me…”
Instead of undoing his own buckles, Moth reached over and undid the one pinning Fiona’s waist to the saddle. Merceron hunched low to the ground, looking over his shoulder.
“As soon as you’re ready, I could use a break.”
“I’m trying!” fumed Fiona.
She managed the final buckle, nearly falling off his back, walking away with a wobbly gait. Moth carefully unbuckled his own straps, holding onto the rope as he lowered himself down. Merceron stood up and stretched with a roar of pleasure.
“Thank the stars! You little trolls are heavier than you look.”
Fiona bent over, hands on her knees over a patch of daisies. “Can’t you fly any better then that?”
Moth stood between them. “I thought it was amazing!”
Fiona parted her hair to glare at him. “Flying is crazy. It’s irrational!” She put her hand over her mouth. Moth looked away.
“Uh, let’s camp over there,” he suggested, pointing to a spot far from Fiona’s mess.
Merceron winced as he reached back to rub his aching muscles. “And what was that you were muttering the whole time, girl? It was like a cricket crawled into my ear.”
Fiona was too busy retching to answer.
“That’s a game she plays,” said Moth. “When she’s scared, she thinks about all the best times in her life. It works, too. I tried it.”
Merceron seemed intrigued. “I like that. I will try it, too.”
“Why?” asked Moth. “Are you scared, Merceron?”
Throughout the day Merceron had told them almost nothing, not about the Skylords or Taurnoken or about whatever dangers lay ahead.
“Water,” Merceron sighed. His wings drooped behind him. “I’m going to the river. Look after her, Moth, will you?”