A Wizard's Wings by T. A. Barron Read Free Book Online Page B

waving vigorously. “Come soon to breakfast if you want any.”
    Silently, Hallia and I walked through the bristling stalks of grass, climbing the slope together, pausing now and then to catch our breath. Moments later, we stood on top of the hill, and in a few more seconds, on the flat surface of the stargazing stone. Rhia sat there, cross-legged as before, surrounded by assorted leftovers from last night’s repast. Perched on her shoulder was the furry form of Scullyrumpus, busily chewing on a slice of beetroot.
    “Come,” she beckoned, her mouth full of honeycomb. “Before Scully eats it all.”
    “Get awayway,” snapped the little beast. “Clumsy man no steal breakyfast!”
    Rhia held up two wedges of honeycomb. “Never mind him. He’s just grumpy in the morning.”
    “How can you tell?” I asked. Oblivious to the creature’s glare, I set down my staff and sat upon the stone. Hallia joined me, and in short order we were feasting on almonds with cinnamon cream, sweetberries, tangy strips of linden bark, and rose-hip jelly on biscuits, all washed down with the remains of Rhia’s raspberry syrup.
    Still feeling chilled, I flapped my arms against my ribs.
    “Trying to fly again?” asked Rhia mischievously. “It’s easier with vines.”
    “No,” I said flatly, not responding to her jest. “I’m just cold, that’s all.” I glanced at the place on the stone charred by last night’s fire coals. “Too bad the wind scattered all our embers. A fire would be nice.”
    “Not necessary.” Rhia reached down and unraveled the vine that held the Orb of Fire to her belt. “I still don’t know how to use this yet, at least in the way it’s supposed to be used. But I have learned something.”
    She placed the orange sphere on the stone. Then she held her hand above it, so that her fingers nearly touched its shining surface, and closed her eyes. Seconds passed. With a sudden flash, the sphere erupted with light, glowing like a small sun.
    Hallia gasped, while my back straightened in surprise. We looked at each other, and at Rhia, in amazement. Scullyrumpus ignored us, sliding down Rhia’s arm so he could warm his paws.
    My sister smiled, coaxing us to move closer. “I know the Orb is really for healing—broken spirits, not broken bones. Until I figure out how to do that, though, it makes a fine little fireplace. Don’t you agree?”
    “Oh yes,” answered Hallia, tugging me nearer to the glowing sphere. “And all aglow like that, it’s as pretty as the spots on a fawn.”
    “Moremore useful than a fawn, it is,” squeaked Scullyrumpus.
    “Or you, friend furball.” I ignored his chattered protest and stretched my palms toward the Orb. It felt as warm as any hearth. Like Fincayra’s other legendary Treasures—such as the Flowering Harp that could bring the barest hillside to life, or the Caller of Dreams that could make someone’s wish a reality—this object held incalculable power. Right now, though, a little warmth was power enough. Turning to Rhia, I asked, “Have you tried to bake bread on it?”
    “Several times.” She tossed her brown curls. “Doesn’t work too well, though. This heat is of a strange kind, better for spirits, somehow, than for bodies—or muffins.”
    “It feels good, in any case,” I replied. “You’re right, though, about this heat. I feel it more, well, under my skin than on it.”
    She nodded. “Remember how you first described it to me? Less like a radiant torch than a radiant spirit.”
    “That’s right. And the spirit I was referring to, I also recall, was you.”
    Rhia’s face glowed a bit brighter, though it might have been just the reflection from the Orb. “And Dagda’s description of it, remember that? If used wisely, its flame can rekindle hope, or even the will to live.” She pursed her lips. “Someday I’d like to do that.”
    I didn’t respond. The mention of Dagda’s name chilled me again. All at once, I felt as distracted as before. Hallia,