Son of a Dark Wizard by Sean Patrick Hannifin

said.
    “And what’s plan B?”
    “Plan B is to think of another plan.”
    “I’m glad you know what you’re doing,” Sage
said.
    “I’ve never needed a plan B before,” Sorren
said. “Just keep flying.”
    Sage brought the cargo ship steadily closer
to the gigantic ship above. His trembling hands settled a bit, but
Sorren could tell he was still tense. His breathing was slow and
labored.
    “Uh oh,” Sage said.
    “What?” Sorren asked. But he knew the answer
a second later. His father’s airship was slowing down. There was no
place for it to land; there were only forests below.
    Sage gave voice to the same thought turning
in Sorren’s mind. “They know they’re being followed.”
    “They can’t know by who,” Sorren said.
    “By whom ,” Sage wisely corrected
him.
    Sorren ignored him. “The kingdom thinks I’m
dead. Approach the docking bay door and see if they’ll open it for
us.”
    “They must be suspicious,” Sage said. “This
is no place for a cargo ship to be flying.”
    “Do you want to go back to the caverns?”
Sorren asked. “I can fly myself.”
     
    “I have more experience,” Sage said. “You
need me.”
    As the royal airship above them came to stop
in the air, Sage brought the cargo ship to a stop behind it, then
slowly pulled back on the helm, guiding the ship upward.
    “Look,” Thale said. “They are opening
the bay door.”
    Indeed, narrow strips of orange light
outlined the edges of the wide rectangular door, slowly growing as
the door opened outward.
    “Convenient,” Thale said.
    “Too convenient,” Sage said, bringing the
cargo ship level with the bay door.
    “Look inside, Thale,” Sorren said. “Tell me
what you see.”
    Thale put a hand over his human eye, and his
tovocular eye whirled inward and outward. “There are people inside.
Five or six. Zolen soldiers. They’re . . . they’re
holding something . . .”
    The door was almost completely open now,
revealing the silhouettes of men standing in a row. Sage slowly
sent the cargo ship forward.
    “Wait!” Thale grabbed at Sage’s arm.
    Sage jumped in his chair. “What are you
try—”
    “Fly down!” Thale said. “They’re throwing
bo—”
    Boom!
    A low roar bellowed through the air, and the
world beyond the window turned to fire, balls of flame curling in
on one another. The cargo ship jolted downward and to the side,
sending Sorren crashing up against the ceiling and the side wall,
forcing all breath from his lungs. The sound of shattering glass
rang in his ear. He clutched his staff and pulled himself back to
his feet. Outside, the fireballs had turned into a thick cloud of
smoke, impossible to see through.
    “Thale,” Sorren said between gasps, “can you
see . . .”
    Then Sorren noticed that Thale was sprawled
against the floor, arms at his side. He was searching the floor as
if he’d lost something. Sorren extended a hand to help the boy up,
but something crunched under his foot. He slid his foot to the
side. A shard of the mirror. The floor was covered in pieces of the
shattered mirror.
    Thale looked up at him, not taking his hand,
his face pale as moonlight. “It broke,” he said. “I couldn’t hold
it.”
    “Are you all right?” Sorren asked, reaching
his silver-copper arm closer to him.
    “I think so,” Thale said, taking Sorren’s
hand and pulling himself up.
    “Hold on to something,” Sage said, scrambling
with the controls before him. The cargo ship had come to a stop
slightly below the opened bay door.
    “Hold on to what?” Thale asked.
    But Sage ignored the question and sent the
ship lurching forward, under the royal airship. Sorren and Thale
stumbled backward. The roar of more bombs bursting in air echoed
somewhere behind them. The sounds shook the cargo ship’s walls.
Sorren’s muscles throbbed as if his blood had turned to pudding.
His connection with the ship was becoming painful. But he couldn’t
cut the connection. The blasts had damaged the engine.