The Phoenix Endangered by James Mallory Page A

said.
    “And you’ll want extra supplies,” Kareta said. “You’ll need a lot more apples, just to begin with! And oat cakes. And maybe some of those—”
    “I am not feeding you,” Harrier said. “Don’t you have someplace else to go?”
    “Oh, no,” Kareta assured him soulfully. “I’d be so bored anywhere else! And I’m not bored here. And … someone has to make you do the right thing.”
    Tiercel reached for the teapot hastily. Kareta might be a unicorn, and a creature of magic, but he didn’t think there was anyone—or anything—anywhere who could “ make” Harrier do something if he’d made up his mind not to.
    T HE E LVEN FARM (or village or whatever) was called Blackrowan. Kareta (in his mind he added “that stupid unicorn” every time he thought about her, until in his head her name was simply “Kareta-that-stupid-unicorn,” and Harrier didn’t really give a damn whether or not unicorns couldread your thoughts or not; if she was eavesdropping, she deserved whatever she got) had mentioned that offhandedly once they were on the road again. She also mentioned that Blackrowan was famous for its fine fruit cordials, that the area wasn’t suitable for rice but did well for silk, that the nearest city to Blackrowan was Tarmulonberan, and that it didn’t matter anyway because they weren’t going there.
    In short, she just didn’t shut up.
    Harrier was pretty certain that he could get her to stop talking if he’d only say he wanted some peace and quiet in order to read the Three Books of the Wild Magic. And he was damned if he’d do any such thing. The harder she pushed, the harder he dug in his heels.
    And the thing was, he meant to read them. Or at least take a look at them. He didn’t want to—to be perfectly honest, the thought of even opening The Book of Moon scared him stiff. But he was pretty sure it was his duty.
    The first Knight-Mage to be called by the Gods of the Wild Magic since Kellen …
    Maybe some people would think that was just great. Harrier could think of half-a-dozen of his age-mates at Armethalieh Normal School who would be whooping with glee at the thought, brandishing imaginary swords and talking of the battles they’d fight. Harrier just felt sick to his stomach—he’d already fought battles, and as far as he could see, he’d lost every one.
    He remembered Windy Meadows, the town he and Tiercel and Simera had stopped at. The one whose inhabitants had all been eaten by Goblins. That had been after the Wildmage Roneida had given him a sword, but it hadn’t done him a lot of good. He hadn’t been able to save Simera’s life.
    And in Ysterialpoerin, when something had chased him and Tiercel halfway around the city, he hadn’t been able to do a single thing then either, even though—he was pretty sure—it would have killed them both if it had caught them.
    He knew the Wild Magic was wise and good, and itmust know what it was doing by sending the Books to him. And he was reasonably sure that (that damned unicorn) Kareta wasn’t lying when she said the Wild Magic meant him to be a Knight-Mage, because while Harrier didn’t know very much about what Wildmages did, he was pretty sure that even if he’d make a really bad Knight-Mage, he’d make an even worse regular Wildmage.
    The trouble was, that wasn’t saying much. He’d watched Simera die, poisoned by the Goblins. And he was terrified that he was going to have to watch Tiercel die too, because what Tiercel was trying to find was a thousand times more dangerous than a few Goblins. And thinking of Tiercel dying was bad enough, but what was worse was the fact that according to everything they’d been told over the last several sennights, Tiercel was the Light’s champion. And that meant that if Tiercel died, the Darkness would win. Or at the very least, have time to get stronger, until a new champion came along. And while it was getting stronger, it would kill more people. And all the stories Harrier had