A Wizard's Wings by T. A. Barron Page A

as well! Don’t deny it. You’re thinking about that old rumor that the Forgotten Island has something to do with the lost wings.”
    “I don’t deny it. I just thought you might go there and find out what happened.”
    “And, while I’m at it, bring you back a nice big pair?”
    She shrugged carelessly, trying not to grin. “If you like.”
    I shook my head. “You’re obsessed, Rhia! Even if that rumor is true, there’s a small matter you’re forgetting: that thick web of spells that surrounds the whole island, keeping everyone out. Why, no one’s been there since, since . . .”
    “The wings were lost,” she finished. “Think about it, Merlin. Having wings would also help you get around faster.”
    I could only grimace. If only she understood why I needed to travel fast! And if only I had some idea—any idea—what to do next.
    “It could also solve the ache between our shoulders,” she pressed. “You can’t deny that exists, can you?”
    “No.” I worked my shoulders, then lay down on my side, resting my elbow on the rock. “No one knows for sure, though, whether the ache really comes from lost wings, or something else entirely. Maybe it’s just part of being Fincayran.”
    “ Hmfff ,” she replied. “Everyone knows it’s true, except maybe young wizards.”
    Scullyrumpus broke into such wild cackles that he nearly fell off her shoulder.
    “The one thing no one knows,” Rhia went on, “is why the wings were lost.”
    “That’s right,” offered Hallia, gracefully sweeping her legs around to move closer to the warm globe. “I’ve heard your friend Cairpré say he’d gladly give half his library to find the answer to that question.”
    I nodded, remembering my old mentor saying something similar to me. “Cairpré’s theory is that Dagda, long ago, gave people wings. Then something happened that made him take them back forever.”
    “Only Dagda himself knows why,” said Rhia, frowning. “The people must have done something really horrible to deserve such a punishment.”
    “Really horrible,” echoed Hallia.
    Rhia reached out and took the last two sweetberries. She plunked one in her mouth, then tossed the other into the air. Scullyrumpus’ tiny jaws snapped closed, and he grinned crookedly before swallowing.
    “Well,” said Rhia, “I think we’ll be going now. I have a little time before heading off to join Mother, and there’s something I need to do first.”
    “What?” I asked.
    “Oh, something.”
    “You have that look of a mischievous fawn,” observed Hallia.
    “Do I?” she replied innocently. “Can’t say why.”
    Rhia grasped the magical Orb, which instantly stopped radiating heat. As she tied it to her belt, she nodded to her little companion. He chattered something unintelligible while wrapping his paws around her shoulder. Watching them, I thought of how Trouble used to ride on my own shoulder, clasping me tighdy with his talons. And how I still carried him with me in a way, just as I still carried the name he inspired.
    With a wave to Hallia and me, Rhia leaped down from the rock and quickly strode down the hill. I nearly called after her. But no—I couldn’t do it. I merely watched her make her way through the tall grasses. A few seconds later, she disappeared into the trees, the Orb of Fire bouncing at her side.

6: E SCAPE
    Hallia took my hand, and her touch somehow warmed me even more than the Orb. “Tell me what it is, young hawk.”
    I sat up, unsure of what to say, or whether to say anything at all. My boots twisted uneasily on the grainy surface of the stargazing stone. The brisk morning air gusted slightly, causing the surrounding forest to creak and clatter. I felt as if the hill where we sat was an island in the middle of a turbulent sea, and that any moment the waves would rise up and overwhelm us.
    “Something is troubling you,” she continued. “Something more than you’ve been saying. Is it . . . about us?”
    “N-no, not us.”
    “Tell