The Prism Blade: Passage to Mythrin

By Patricia Bow

In The Ruby Kingdom, readers were captivated as Amelia Hammer and her cousin, Simon, and friend, Ike, discovered a secret gate leading from the small, southern-Ontario town of Dunstone to the extraordinary land of Mythrin - a world populated by dragons.Now, dragon leader, Mara, seeks the help of Amelia and her friends again. This time, a peculiar race of humans from a world called Cassar is searching for the Prism Blade - a legendary weapon forged at the beginning of time. Both the dragons and the Casseri seek the Prism Blade for their own protection; both the dragons and the Casseri fear the Blade falling into each others’ hands.

Caught in the middle, Amelia, Simon, and Ike are also caught by surprise when they discover that the Prism Blade has been hidden for centuries in their own town … and is one of the most treasured objects in all of Dunstone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dundurn
• Release date: May 19, 2008
• ISBN: 9781554886579

Patricia Bow

Patricia Bow lives in Kitchener, Ontario, with her husband, Eric, and a small but fierce cat named Pooka. By day a writer of serious prose for the University of Waterloo, by night she maps worlds of the imagination. Her children's fantasy The Bone Flute was shortlisted for the Ontario Library Association's 2006 Silver Birch Award.

Book preview

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PROLOGUE:

THE CHILDREN OF WAYLAND

Long, long ago, in the springtime of the world, Adam was the first man. And Adam had two wives. Eve, who was human, had human children. But Lilith was half a demon, and she gave birth to dragons.

The first of Eve’s children was called Wayland. He was a master of fire and earth, a builder, a swordsmith, a maker of clever tools. His half-brother, Wyrm, the first of Lilith’s children, was a master of air and water, a riddler, a shape-changer, a liar. And they were bitter rivals.

One day Wayland the Smith took hammer and tongs and fire and made a device of great power: a strange and wonderful Prism. This, he said, will be for my brother a sword in the heart, an opener of doors he can never close, a riddle he will never answer.

But as soon as the device was made, Wyrm knew it, and it filled him with fear and rage. He stole the Prism, for he alone among the dragons was able to touch it, and away he flew with it, east of the sun and west of the moon, and there he made a hiding place. And because he could not destroy the Prism, he disguised it. So even if someone finds it, said he, no one will know it.

Years passed, and endless war raged between the children of Wyrm and the children of Wayland. The dragons grew many and strong, and the humans grew few and weak. And all for the loss of Wayland’s Prism.

In those long years the story of the Prism was forgotten in the world where it lay hid. But in the world where it was made the story lived, and men and women saw the Prism in their dreams.

They were the seekers. They sought the gates: the shortcuts from world to world, from universe to universe, built by a race that lived long ago, but since has vanished. Each gate they studied, and some they opened. Other worlds lay beyond, and into some they ventured. Always in hope of finding the one gate, the gate opening into that world, east of the sun and west of the moon, where Wayland’s Prism lies hidden.

Years passed, and yet more years. The cities fell into ruin. Nations shrank to clans, wandering bands cut off from each other. Children were chosen, according to their gifts, to train as seekers, or weavers — those skilled in spellcasting — or warriors, protectors of all the rest. Each clan was led by a Triad of the leading Seeker, Warrior, and Weaver.

They dwindled to a quiet and wary people clothed in the colours of earth and stone, the better to avoid being seen from the air. Always moving, always hiding. Seeking now not so much for Wayland’s Prism, for that had become a distant hope, but for gates leading to worlds where they might live without fear. And should a clan find such a gate, leading to such a world, they would send word to other clans if they were able. But often they were not able, for the dragons thronged after them, and they passed through the gate and sealed it behind them, for fear of pursuit.

In the land of Cassar, Seeker Kwan found such a gate. After much labour he opened it, and passed through and explored the world beyond, to try if it was safe. And what did he find but a fair green valley, and sheltering hills, and golden plains beyond: and as far as the eye could see, not a single dragon.

But he did not venture far from the gate, for time was short. On the home world, dragons were gathering, thousands massing on the cliffs round the deep glen where the Casseri had their refuge. The Seeker returned and told what he had found, to the great joy of the people. Kwan opened the gate and the people began to pass through.

At that moment the dragon-storm broke. Many of the Casseri died, and with them the Seeker and almost all of his students. Only one seeker remained alive.

CHAPTER 1

PIER AND THE DRAGON

Pier was sitting on the edge of a cliff, dangling her feet over the drop, when the dragon came.

There was no warning — none at all. One moment she was half-dozing in the hot sun, a dangerous thing to do in that spot. The next moment a blood-red shadow floated above her head. Her hair blew sideways in a warm gust that smelled of cloves and sulphur. An enormous crimson dragon settled on the bluff beside her.

All she saw in that first moment was a clawed foot bigger than her head, and on the thumb a ring with a fiery red stone. The foot was so close she could have moved her little finger and touched the nearest claw.

A dragon wearing a ring? Pier stared at it numbly.

She should never have been taken by surprise. Dragons, and the fear of them, had shaped her life. Dragons had driven her people from their old world to this one. A safe world, Seeker Kwan had said. But he’d been wrong.

Pier had gone stupid out of sheer dead-tiredness, and that was how the dragon caught her. She’d had no real sleep for three days.

The beast filled the space between her and the rest of the ledge. There was only one way of escape, and that was off the cliff. Bones would break, but worse would happen if she stayed. Pier leaned forward …

Claws gripped her shoulder. No, child, said a voice in her head. We will talk.

Talk! To a dragon? Pier was so shocked that her gaze flashed upward. She met the dragon’s eyes. A fatal mistake. You never, never looked into a dragon’s eyes. The youngest child knew that!

She tried to look away, but it was too late. The dragon’s gaze locked on hers. She could not stir a muscle. The eyes were bright green, like emeralds with the sun behind them. They burned into her head, burned right through the light baffle spell she kept there. They read, they saw …

The dragon screamed and Pier was free. The ledge emptied. A single red drop splashed onto a stone at the edge of the cliff. By the time Pier’s heart had thumped twice, the dragon was a jagged shape against the sunset. Then it dropped beyond the hills to the west.

Seeker! You are hurt? Yulith bounded up the hill. Her arbalest already had another bolt slotted into place.

N-no…. A deep breath, then another, to quiet the trembling. No. It never touched me. She crawled back from the cliff edge, climbed to her feet, and bowed formally. Many thanks to your fine aim, Warrior. The weak spots in a dragon’s armour were few and small, and it took true skill to pierce one.

Yulith bowed in return. Then she looked past Pier and her eyes widened. She stabbed a calloused finger at the cliff edge. See, where it bled! After thirty years in arms, the last ten as the Triad’s Warrior, it took a lot to make Yulith sound excited.

Pier knelt. A loose stone sat on the cliff edge. It was about half the size of her palm, pale grey like the rest of this ridge, smooth, and now printed with a star of shiny red that dulled and darkened in the sun.

This must not be left lying. Dragon blood was rare and magical. Dangerous. She picked up the stone by the edges, careful not to touch the crimson star, and slipped it into the canvas pocket that hung from her belt.

Cunning beast! Yulith scowled. It must have slithered in low, close behind this ridge. She jerked her chin at the Hall of Gates and the stony hillside behind it. I will post watchers up there. We will not be surprised again.

Pier took one more look at the valley, with its sparkling little river. The breeze blowing from the east smelled of late-summer grass and apples. From here you could see, through the gap between the hills at the end of the valley, a silver line at the horizon that might be the ocean.

It was all she knew of this world. Such a good place, it looked. Such a good world to live in. So they’d all thought for three wonderful days, until the dragons came.

No children ran and laughed in the valley now. All the younger ones were safe in the caves. Weaver Gram and his apprentices were twining a baffle spell to hide the cave mouths. The warriors had gone back to shooting at targets, wooden disks tied to windblown branches, in the meadow beside the river.

But everyone knew weapons and spells were not much good against dragons. They were just a stop-gap. It was time the Seeker got back to work.

Pier started back towards the Hall of Gates, where their only hope hung like a dream, just out of reach. You should take rest! Yulith called.

Pier just shook her head, and the Warrior didn’t argue. There’d been no rest for anyone since yesterday afternoon, when three dragons, black and bronze and green, soared over the camp, and then wheeled and flew back. They’d swooped so low you could see the muscles slide under their scaly skins.

That was a terrible moment. It was the first they knew there were dragons here, too. Was there any world anywhere not overrun by dragons?

Then today this big red one. It wouldn’t be long before more dragons came. Next time they’d be ready to flame.

The Hall of Gates — Pier’s name for it — was high and bare. The walls were more air than stone. Tall, narrow, round-topped holes showed where windows used to be. Only six windows still held glass: coloured shapes held together by strips of metal to form pictures. Sun poured through them and splashed the floor with ruby and purple and leaf-green light. The colours were warm, but the stones were always cold in here, no matter how hot it was outside.

Most of the windows showed men and women fighting with griffins and harpies and other monsters. One showed a boy climbing a hill towards a starry sky, and reaching up as if to pluck a star. Pier liked that one. The boy had a kind face, she thought.

I wonder where the people are that made the windows?

The one where the Casseri had entered this world now stood dark and lifeless. She’d been able to do that for her people at least — break the passage so that no dragons could follow them through.

Maybe breaking things is all I can do.

Pier faced the one window that really mattered. It showed a man on horseback aiming a spear at a huge, green, coiling snake. The warrior’s coat was blue, the exact colour of the gate when it was fully formed and just before it dissolved into the passage between worlds. Not that Pier had ever reached the passage stage with this gate.

Or with any gate, by my own skill. She shoved the thought aside, climbed up on the wooden box set there, and reached in over the deep sill. She had to stretch to get her hands on the glass. Her shoulders ached.

The green snake darkened, the warrior and his horse faded from sight. Blue light flared. Branching shapes that looked like glass and glowed like sapphire, but weren’t either, tangled where the window had been. Pier closed her eyes and held her breath and moved her fingers. She’d done this so often in the last three days that now her fingertips knew every twist and turn.

Beneath the surface, in some place as far from her fingertips as the earth is from the stars, Pier’s thought swerved through mazes of blue fire. Dipped and twisted and swooped, swift and sure, towards the other side, towards where it opened … into … the … passage ….

Ten heartbeats. Twelve. When she got this close, sometimes she forgot to breathe.

The sapphire light dimmed and faded. Pier’s arms fell like sticks of lead. She didn’t bother to look, didn’t need to. The gate was gone again. She had failed. Again.

She rested her head on the stone sill. Eyes still closed, she pictured the shining thing that waited — she knew it — in the world beyond this gate, the thing that would save her people. The great Prism of legend.

To sense it, that was the dream of every seeker. To find it, to wield it, that was the work of a master. But now all the seekers were dead, including Seeker Kwan. All dead but Pier, the youngest and least. Pier, who had never actually opened a world gate by herself.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. Thanks to heaven that Yulith didn’t know how Pier had failed them all, just now, out on the ledge.

That dragon, it got inside my mind. It saw. It knows.

The dragon flew as far as the tangled lands before she allowed herself to sink. Not back to Sissarion, not like this. There were rivals who would smile at her weakness. At least one would snatch at the chance. He would not win, of course, but she wanted no strife, not just now.

Here. This was a good place. Deep in a gully, a dry river bed, where the cliff leaned out at the top and screened her from the sky. The smooth red stones still gave back the sun’s heat. She crawled under the overhang and crouched. She wrapped her wings around her body.

There was pain. That could be endured. But this metal thing in her armpit, that must come out. She clenched a clawed fist around the shaft and pulled, hard and quick.

Then she studied the thing. A metal stick with a barbed head meant to rip flesh. Demon work for sure. Her blood had pitted and blackened the metal, but not badly enough. It could be used again, if found.

She tossed it onto the rocks outside the overhang and exhaled fire. The bolt glowed red, twisted, and fell into bits. Good!

Now, sleep. Heal. But not too long. Something must be done about these two-legged invaders, these ardini. Especially the small pale one, with her head full of painful light. She meant murder, that one.

Wrong to call them demons, even so. Must remember that. They were human. They were like Amelia.

Amelia. Amelia, where …

The dragon dreamed.

CHAPTER 2

SWEAT AND DUST

Amelia woke. The yellow walls of her bedroom glowed with morning light. The breeze drifting in the window smelled of dust and gasoline, mixed with the honey scent of alyssum planted in pots on the sidewalk. The hum of traffic on King Street, below her window, mixed with the soft roar of tumbling water in the Dunn River gorge, just beyond the buildings on the other side of the street.

It was already hot. The sheets were damp with sweat. Her tank top stuck to her body.

She dug her face into the pillow and blotted tears. Just a dream, again. The first one in more than a month. She’d thought all that was over and done with. Guess not.

Not fair! I’ll never see Mara again, or the Ruby Kingdom, but I can’t get them out of my dreams. It’s like I keep losing them again, over and over and over.

It felt awful darn real, though, she said aloud.

She realized then that her right hand was closed in a tight fist, and it hurt. She opened her fingers.

Stared at what was there, biting into her palm.

Clenched her fist again. Leaped out of bed, burst out of her room into the corridor. Slammed into Simon’s room and crashed the door against

Reviews for The Prism Blade

[elizajane_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The second volume of this wonderful YA series is just as good as the first one. This time around, two visitors from Mythrin come through the passage to Ammy and Simon's earth looking for a mythical sword. But which of the visitors is on the good side and which is on the bad side? Simon and Ammy have differing opinions and don't always work together to help their respective friends from the other world. That is until a third visitor passes through and everyone concerned realizes that he is really working on the side of evil.A fun fantasy romp that was pure enjoyment. A complete contrast to the first volume which is mostly set in Mythrin this one is mostly set in our world though plenty enough happens in Mythrin as well. Mystical beasts and objects are always fun to read and while this book does contain a quest, it is not your typical journey type of quest making it rather unique. Really a whole lot of fun with engaging characters, well-written and a page-turner. Suitable for ages 8 and up, I still think it will appeal to teenage audiences as well as this 40 year old reviewer. I'm certainly looking forward to the third book (possibly the last in a trilogy?) which hopefully is in the works for 2009.