he expected, the room erupted with raised voices. Mother Adia glared and spoke of Mori needing time to recover from her flight and wounds. Lyana cried that she was a warrior of Requiem, and sworn to defend her princess, and would keep her here under guard. Even Bayrin objected, shouting that Mori would only slow him down, and that he couldn't drag along the princess if he were to find the Moondisk and bring it back for war. Even Lord Deramon spoke up, claiming that he'd send a squad of tough, battle-hardened warriors to find the Moondisk, letting the princess remain in shadow.
Elethor waited for the voices to die down. When they were all silent and staring at him, he said, "Mori needs time to heal. That will not be in underground tunnels, under siege, under constant threat of violence. If I fall, she is the last member of House Aeternum. I will not have her here, in a burrow, with the wrath of Tiranor outside our doors. Let her fly north! She will be safer in the wilderness, a single dragon in a wide world, while we fight here in a few chambers and halls. You say she would slow you down, Bayrin? Mori is the fastest dragon in Requiem. She's won every flying race she's ever flown. She flew from Castellum Luna to Nova Vita in only two days. As for sending strong warriors north, Deramon? We need them here, every last man, to protect our people. We don't know if anyone survived the battle over King's Forest other than Lyana. All those soldiers might be dead now, five thousand of them; those we have left cannot be spared." He stared into Bayrin's eyes. "Bay. You are my oldest, dearest friend. Fly north to the Crescent Isle with Mori. Protect her."
Bayrin stared back in silence for long moments, lips tight and eyes fiery. Elethor stared back at his friend, refusing to look away. He knew Bayrin; the man would grumble and quip as easily as he breathed, but he was also an honest man and a good friend, and Elethor trusted him. He could think of no one better to protect his sister.
Finally Bayrin's eyes softened and he heaved a sigh. "Oh bloody stars," he said, "I'm going to regret this, but all right." He walked toward Mori, slung his arm around her waist, and pulled her close. "Looks like it's me and you, Mors. I am sworn to protect you, my princess, and all of that."
Mori looked so slim and frail, pulled against Bayrin's gangly frame.
"Just try to keep up, Bayrin," she said in a small voice.
He snorted. "Just try not to fly into any cobwebs, little one." He turned to Elethor. "Of course, there is one small, tiny flaw in the plan—more a quibble than a flaw, really, but hear me out. How are we to, well…" He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "…leave these tunnels with about a million phoenixes and their mothers outside? I mean, I reckon Mors and I could just walk outside, wave, and say, 'Sorry, old friends, but we'd really like to fly off and fetch a weapon that could kill you all, how about you be good phoenixes and let us pass?' Yes, I think that'll work well."
Lyana groaned, rolled her eyes, and punched her brother. "Bayrin, you go do that, and spare the world your stupidity. Mori will escape the sensible way—using the Portal Scrolls."
Bayrin scratched his head of red curls. "The porta-what-now?"
Lyana groaned even louder. "You really are an idiot, aren't you? Are you sure we're related?" She slapped his head. "The Portal Scrolls! You should have spent less time chasing girls with Elethor, and more time listening to your teachers' lectures."
"I sense another lecture coming on," Bayrin muttered.
Lyana seemed not to hear him; she kept speaking, nose raised. "King Elaras, son of Queen Luna the Traveler, crafted the Portal Scrolls in the year 3318. That's 232 years ago; don't break anything trying to do the numbers in your head. Each Portal Scroll has a map with a star on it. When you read a scroll, it will magically whisk you away to that place on the map."
Bayrin whistled. "Some magic! So, you don't happen to have any Portal Scrolls leading to the Crescent Isle, do you?"
Lyana glared at him. "Bayrin! If you had ever listened to anything your teachers told you, or even bothered to visit the Chamber of Artifacts, you would know. But of