The water glimmered under the rays of the sun, but Rusk knew that peace wouldn’t last for long. The docks were quiet. No sign of Captain Arrolg’s ship or any other since he’d run away with his crew and Elena along with them. Floumeré stood by Rusk’s side with her hand over her eyes looking out far as if she were trying to see the mainland, but it was too far to see for real. Rusk didn’t know how far exactly, just far enough that if you stood on the beach of Sanctuary Island and peered all the way out on the water on a calm day, you still wouldn’t see it. He tried anyway, to humor her, and then shrugged as if he hadn’t expected that result.

They gathered materials for a boat over a week of time, and during that time they also depleted the Sanctuary’s food supply, though Floumeré assured Rusk she could hunt if it came to that. Rusk told her he knew how to hunt too, and much laughter ensued though neither of them knew why. They were becoming closer, and their budding friendship was less comradery and more something more. Rusk liked it. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

They built their boat. Sturdy enough to survive a trip across to the mainland, but definitely not worth risking the trip if they got thrown off course. There was more than just the sea serpent in those waters. Floumeré was good with her hands, and eventually she told Rusk to call her Flow. She said that’s what her family called her before they got murdered.

They stood with their boat staring out at the water and sharing their silent hatred of the King.

The water stirred. Soon the sea serpent rose out of it like a bridge and glared down at them with all the presence of the natural thing it was. Its whiskers swayed on a wind Rusk and Flow couldn’t even feel they were so far from it on the red beach sand below.

“We doing this?” said Rusk.

“Of course.” Flow held his hand. She was trembling, but she looked out at the sea serpent with the conviction of nobility she’d inherited from her tribe up the volcano.

And the sea serpent sent a wave crashing over them.

They swam and swam, turning end over end, finding each other in the water, and instead of letting them burst through to the surface the sea serpent dove toward them with all its might. But it got caught in the shallows and they managed to scramble back up the beach out of range. There at the foot of the Sanctuary Stronghold they collapsed on each other and only breathed.

Eventually they figured they’d need a better strategy than just trying to outrun or outswim the darn thing.

“You said you’ve met the sky serpent. Iya Tarfell’s dragon.”

“Yeah,” said Rusk. His hair had gotten long and he twisted it to get the water out. Sand never came off though, and both of them had taken on the appearance of embers with the way the red sand of Sanctuary Island clung to their clothes and skin and hair. “And?”

“A serpent for a serpent.”

“I don’t have a way of reaching the sky serpent.”

Flow raised her hands to the sky as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Sky is wind. Wind is everywhere. Call and it will hear you. Surely.”

Rusk was ashamed he himself hadn’t thought of that, and he gave it a go.

Nothing happened. He groaned.

They ate dinner and schemed. It seemed they might be stuck on this island forever, and their goal of usurping the King’s plan to rid the world of Heroes seemed a far off dream. But something still ate at Rusk the whole time, as if there were something he should be doing but wasn’t.

And then he remembered Elena, and Mandy, and all the others he’d met. Felix and Etoile and Loretta Rose. What of them?

He’d become smitten, he was man enough to admit that now at the age of twenty, and besides, they’d lost their resources with the exception of the volcano itself, and it’s not like they could let that blow now. For one thing Flow had given up her power to keep it from doing just that, and for another neither of them knew how much destruction that would really cause. They could inadvertently ruin the lives of those who lived on the coastal city across the way. Tidal waves. The works. Then again, the sea serpent was capable of doing that much already.

They had to figure a way to get rid of it. But how?

On the third week of postulating, the sky serpent arrived on a storm that tossed the island’s purple leaves and brown trunks this way and that, and sent red sand skittering over itself and swirling up in the power of the wind the sky serpent brought with it.

Rusk thought it a miracle, but Flow had had faith.

She reached up and beseeched the sky serpent, telling it of their troubles.

“I will do this for you,” said the sky serpent to Rusk in particular. “If you fulfill your promise, become a true Hero, live long for Iya Tarfell, and usurp King Ehrryn. His necromancers have been a thorn in my side for far too long, but with their control over the dead my power is not sufficient to rid the world of them.”

“Really?” asked Rusk. That seemed like a stretch.

“Those of my ilk deal in forces of nature, not abominations. But you, who are living and bridge both, can affect both realms. How is it you think you pull resources from so many territories? And that arrow.” The sky serpent indicated the Dragons Knock in Rusk’s quiver. “That can kill whatever it shoots. It was once a force of nature as well. Two of them. Always in flow. You will use it to kill the King’s necromancer. That will fell him, and all he has created. But you will have only one opportunity. If you miss, he will win the world over. You must not miss.”

“I learned to shoot from the best shot in the world,” said Rusk. He thumped his chest. “I won’t miss.”

“Very well.” The sky serpent rose on its storm and faced the sea. The waves churned angrily, and the sky serpent appeared. “I have business with this one over the murder of my Iya Tarfell. It shall begin. Ready your vessel.”

Rusk and Flow didn’t need to be told that twice. They scrambled down into their ship and hoped the heavens favored them. Metaphorically as well as actually.

The serpents clashed, and the sea roared with the thunder, and all was chaos, but somehow the little boat they’d crafted floated along unharmed, and behind Rusk and Flow the battle raged on. They could see it even when they crashed into land on the other side of the sea, even when the officers looked down on them and Rusk was spitting up water and Flow was hiding behind him with her hair all frazzled, her eyes wondrous and afraid at the prospect of this new environment sans her ability over lava and fire.

“You two are under arrest by orders of King Ehrryn,” said the Porttegat officer with his weapon trained on them. “Or I’d arrest you if Felix hadn’t already put in a good word. Get out of here before the others see.”

“What’s your name?” asked Rusk, yanking Flow to her feet.

“If I told you that, they could torture it out of you.” The officer shoved them. “You ever need help, the resistance is everywhere. Mention Felix.”