Backyard Dragons by Lee French Page A

so it didn’t matter which direction he walked, only that he moved his body while focusing his mind. The place should work similarly to the Palace Thoroughfare.
    “Going someplace?”
    Justin recognized the voice and froze. “Kurt?”
    “I always knew you weren’t as dumb as you act.” The misty figure who stepped into the light had all of Kurt’s features without the years layered on top. This younger version had no creases or calluses or scars. By the time Justin had met his mentor, Kurt’s belly had gone a bit soft, and his shoulders hadn’t been so straight and strong. This version shone in the prime of his life, near Justin’s own age.
    There existed the slim chance Kurt hadn’t become corrupted yet. Justin had never encountered a Phasm with a demesne who hadn’t been, but he’d heard some of the Knights talking about the odd things they encountered from time to time. If anyone would be too irascible to do the usual thing, it would be Kurt.
    “I can’t imagine why.” Justin grinned and offered Kurt his hand.
    Kurt echoed the grin and slapped his hand into Justin’s. They shook, then Kurt pulled Justin in for a hug. He thumped Justin’s back with the same force he’d always used—enough to shake his bones.
    Something pressed on Justin’s mind, in a flicker or an itch. Kurt could be on the brink of corruption. Justin wondered what it would take to push him over, either accidentally or on purpose. He focused on resisting what could be an accidental attempt at intrusion and hoped it didn’t put Kurt off.
    “I guess it hasn’t been long,” Kurt said as he pulled away, “because you look exactly the same.” He seemed not to notice the quiet battle of wills taking place as his ghostly hand settled on Justin’s shoulder.
    “No, not long at all. What is all this?”
    “Not sure, boy, but my Emmy is here too.”
    Justin blinked, not sure how to interpret that. Kurt’s wife shouldn’t appear in Kurt’s demesne. Except he remembered how the illusion Kurt had crafted of her in the Palace had been so detailed and precise that Justin had thought the woman real at first. When Kurt died, the illusion had still been there. That probably explained all this, at least to someone who understood magic.
    “That’s great. Why am I here, though? I need to get back home. I have an apprentice now, and she needs training worse than I did.”
    Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “She?”
    “Long story.”
    “I bet.” Kurt stroked his chin, watching Justin. “I guess you could say I need your help, boy.”
    His heart sinking, Justin stifled a sigh. If the old man wanted what every corrupted Phasm wanted—help destroying the Palace—Justin would have to find a way to convince Kurt to let him go so he could come back with his sword. “With what?”
    Kurt draped an arm over Justin’s shoulders and urged him to walk along the coastline. “My family. It’s kind of a minor thing, really. More about my ego than any major disaster or threat to the world. But I know I can count on you to help me out.”
    Though this sounded like a less than sinister job, Justin remained suspicious. Kurt had far too much awareness of himself. That itch in Justin’s mind had only faded a tiny bit. He decided he’d agree to almost anything. If he could do it without peril, he would. No matter what, though, when he came back, he’d bring his sword.
    “Sure thing, Kurt. You know how I feel about family. What do you need me to do?”
    “You know my wife, Emmy, died several years ago. The worst part? I lost my daughter and her husband right around then too. They had a son, a little boy at the time. The state asked me to take him in, but I was just too upset about Emmy at the time. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a kid. Maybe that was wrong or dumb, but that boy went into foster care. I’m hoping you can track him down, check up on him, make sure he’s okay.”
    Relieved that the task had nothing to do with Palace, Justin nodded.