Sword Mountain by Nancy Yi Fan Page A

trust it before we dare to soar. Think of something smaller, Fleydur. Something to convince the court that your dreams are valid, so they can dare to let go and take the plunge.”
    Early next morning, Dandelion, holding her candle, peeked through the curtains at the swirling clouds below her window. She’d waited long enough. Her bandages were gone, and her wings, though scarred, were healed. It was time to teach herself to fly.
    She tucked her candle into her pocket and beat her wings as hard as she could. The second her talons rose from the carpet, though, her heart hammered, out of rhythm. A chain of images started in her mind, and once again, the archaeopteryx slashed.... Her mother, screaming in outrage, struck back, and the two, locked together, fell in an arc and the archaeopteryx suddenly turned to …
    The strange, inhibiting fear yanked Dandelion down again; for a moment she could not breathe and could not see. As she picked herself up from the ground where she had fallen, she sickened to think she was rebelling against herself. She’d outwit her fears. Now.
    Dandelion left her room and walked along the corridor till she arrived at a staircase. Twenty steps led to the landing below. She took a step back, and then dived.
    For a split second, Dandelion was flying—
    â€œWhat are you doing!” screeched Olga as they collided. The teacup she was holding flew high in the air; an arc of amber tea cascaded down to douse them both. Dandelion crashed onto the banister and slid down another flight of stairs before she could stop herself.
    â€œOoh, you! Come back here, you!” Olga was leaning over the railing, tea dripping from between her narrowed eyes.
    Dandelion stumbled up the stairs, dismayed. “I’m so sorry, Olga,” she said. “I was trying to fly. I didn’t see you coming up around the landing.”
    â€œYou never do anything but cause trouble,” said Olga.
    â€œMe?” said Dandelion, aghast. “Olga! I didn’t mean to collide with you. I’ll go get the physician if you need him. I’ll get you some more tea. Really, I’ll make up for it. What can I do for you?”
    Olga closed her beak. And blinked. “Anything?” she said.
    â€œAnything,” Dandelion agreed.
    Olga’s smile turned into an ugly smirk. “Good.”
    She dragged Dandelion up the stairs and down a corridor. She went into a room and reappeared with a rose-scented envelope under one wing. “You’ll deliver a letter for me to Master Golden, the general’s son,” she instructed. “Say to him, ‘My lady, Miss Olga, sincerely wishes Master Golden the best of luck in his examinations!’ Okay?”
    â€œSure,” said Dandelion slowly.
    â€œAnd it’ll be perfect. He’ll be charmed by my letter, and he’ll see that you’re really fit to be nothing but a servant,” Olga said.
    Dandelion was not sure who Olga was talking about. But she’d made her promise, and it was best to carry out the task in good will.
    â€œWell, don’t loiter. Hurry, before the examinations start!”
    â€œWhat examinations?” Dandelion asked.
    â€œThe entrance examinations for the Rockbottom Academy. You know, the martial arts school way over on Double Pain Peak. They’re this afternoon.”
    â€œBut wait, Olga,” Dandelion said. “I hardly know where to look for this eagle! I can’t find my way around in the castle at all.”
    â€œEverybird knows who Golden is and where he goes,” said Olga, shrugging. “Just ask whoever you see.”
    Olga was not wrong. Golden was a magical word that animated old and young alike. To her alarm, every young female eaglet Dandelion came across giggled incessantly at the mention of his name. Older matrons sighed as if contemplating an ideal son. The castle staff and the guards nodded in admiring approval; one emotional bird even raised a cup of wine on