They came on a day when Harato asked Yipachai to gather more iron sand.

  It was still early in the morning when Yipachai arrived on the beach. This time, he was the one that carried the pole with the pails hanging off of either end. Harato was back at the forge, working on fulfilling his latest orders from the fencing schools in Amigawa.

  For now, Yipachai’s spirits were high. He felt he was close to mastering the first couple of forms in the book. He hadn’t brought it along with him today, since he would already have a heavy load to carry back to the smithy, but that hadn’t stopped him from keeping his wooden practice sword tucked into his belt.

  The beach itself was a comforting place of solitude to him by now. The black sand, though still somewhat odd, was soft beneath his feet. The songs of sea mhonglun drifted to him above the noise of the tide, and even a few wind mhonglun floated lazily through the air, singing happily. And though Yipachai was no longer an acolyte—the hair that had already grown back being proof enough of that—he still appreciated listening to the mhonglun sing. It still felt…right. Like their songs were calling him to something higher, beyond his worldly concerns.

  As usual, Pingou accompanied him. The bird had flown over the trees on the journey to the beach, but was now stalking through the shallows. Were there any small water creatures the heron didn’t eat?

  Without ceremony, Yipachai knelt down and started shoveling sand into the pails with his trowel. He’d pause for a bit of sword practice before heading back, but he was still supposed to make the trip out to the beach a few more times today. As it turned out, it took a lot of sand to gather enough iron for swords.

  Once the first pail was full, Yipachai paused to stretch his neck, twisting his head first towards the woods and the smithy and then out towards the sea and the ship that—

  A ship?

  Forgetting the sand, Yipachai got to his feet and peered out over the water, shielding his eyes with a hand. There was a ship out there, sailing along several stone’s throws away from the shore and heading west. It had to be headed for Amigawa city. With four masts and angled sails, and with the light of violet flames—Singing—being channeled from the ship’s bow into the waters around it…

  It looked just like the ship that had taken him.

  Yipachai’s heart leapt into his throat as a thin sweat broke out across his brow. Were they coming back for him? How had they tracked him down? Surely they couldn’t have found the dragon Haimunei. And even if they did, there’s no way she would betray him. Would she?

  He turned to look back toward Harato’s home. Toward safety. As he did, his practice sword bumped against his thigh. Then, he had what was perhaps the stupidest thought of his life.

  Pingou, will you bond with me? Yipachai asked the heron, speaking only in his mind.

  Pingou stopped hunting and looked at Yipachai, regarding him with wide golden eyes. No, thank you, he said.

  Please? I need to fly out and get a better look at that ship. I can maintain a bond from that distance. You won’t even have to stop your hunting.

  The bird’s stare seemed to pierce into him. Yipachai suddenly felt sorry for Pingou’s prey. Pingou was probably as tall as Yipachai, if he stretched out his neck, and that look was intimidating.

  Alright, Pingou said at last. But do not get accustomed to such favors, Sentient child.

  Yipachai bristled, but quickly swallowed his pride and thanked Pingou. He was used to curt responses from him anyway. Then, Yipachai closed his eyes and reached out with something beyond just his mind, opening himself until he could truly sense Pingou, as if the heron’s consciousness hovered just on the surface of Yipachai’s own. Then, sensing Pingou’s willingness, Yipachai initiated a full bond between them, letting the Kuanghi—that primal Source of wildness, of freedom—flow between himself and Pingou.

  Immediately, the fullness of Pingou’s mind became apparent. Yipachai could sense his presence, just a few steps away in the shallows, could feel his annoyance at bonding with a boy he didn’t feel as if he really knew, but also the soft sense of growing fondness for Yipachai that he tried to keep hidden.

  Yipachai smiled and allowed the flow of Kuanghi to expand. Then, drawing upon Pingou’s power, he drew Kuanghi into himself until great heron’s wings sprouted from between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t painful. These were made of Kuanghi, slightly transparent and glowing with a soft azure light. Despite their translucence, they were indeed physical. Yipachai could touch them if he wished, though it would have been awkward to twist his arm behind himself to do so.

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  Along with the wings, the Lan Kuanghi bond granted him an instinctive knowledge of flight. Yipachai flapped his new wings twice, feeling their strength, and the slight lift they gave him even when he didn’t exert much effort. It was like flexing newfound muscles he never knew he had. He grinned at Pingou, knowing the heron would sense his enthusiasm.

  Thank you, friend, Yipachai said, and then he took off, jogging forward and beating his wings powerfully until he lifted into the air and soared out over the water, as graceful as the heron himself.

  Yipachai flew slower than he thought he would.

  He was more accustomed to bonding with smaller birds, and mostly birds of prey like Tianfu. Raptors were able to flap their wings a few times and soar. Herons had to pump theirs almost constantly.

  Despite his initial discomfort, Yipachai quickly ascended, then leveled out and made straight for the ship. For every heartbeat he flew, the ship and its passengers grew clearer to his sight until he was close enough to see them clearly.

  They were also able to see him.

  With a sudden twinge of horror, Yipachai caught sight of Hetanzou men in dirty clothes walking about the main deck of the ship, armed with swords, axes, and even a few l’anti staffs. And there, working on hoisting the main sail, were two boys slightly younger than Yipachai with about the same amount of hair. They still wore their tattered acolyte robes.

  Yipachai wheeled about, feeling sick. It was the same ship that had taken him. As he turned around and began flying back to the shore, he heard a shout from one of the bandits. Shortly after, a streak of bright green flame hurtled underneath Yipachai. Then another, just above his head.

  Panicked, Yipachai swerved about as fast as he could. His heron’s wings weren’t made for quick changes of direction. Three more blasts of green Lan Banti flames shot past him, along with more shouts. He risked a peek over his shoulder and saw a few men standing on the edge of the ship and pointing at him. Two waved l’anti staffs.

  And there, just behind them, another man. Yipachai was too far away to be sure, but with the sword on his hip and that familiar confident stance, he was sure it was Mangsut, the man with the scar. The man who had killed Elder Satsanan and now haunted Yipachai’s dreams.

  The man he would kill one day.

  Anger punched through his fear, followed by shame as he kept flying the opposite direction as fast as he could. All he had was a wooden practice sword. If even one of those Lan Banti blasts hit him, he’d be dead—or close to it—before he hit the water below.

  I will find you, you bastard. One day.

  The ship didn’t turn to follow him once he was out of range, so he landed on the beach next to Pingou and dismissed his wings.

  What has happened? the heron asked. I sense your alarm.

  The ship was full of bad men who attacked me. Now I have to hurry back so I can go after them.

  Confusion came to Yipachai through the bond.

  I can’t explain it, he said. You can stay here if you want, but I have to go back now. Without hesitating, Yipachai started sprinting back to Harato’s house, leaving the pole and pails behind. After a few moments, he sensed Pingou flying above him. The bird still hadn’t said anything.

  The ground flew beneath Yipachai’s feet, but he couldn’t keep up that pace the whole way. He eventually slowed to a maintainable jog. A few weeks of labor had given him enough fitness to handle it without too much difficulty. Silently, he thanked Harato for that gift. And apologized for what he was about to do.

  As he drew near to the smithy, Yipachai picked up his pace again. He found Harato sitting outside polishing a blade, using a fine-grained stone to draw long, smooth strokes along it until it shone with a mirror-like finish.

  “What’s the matter, lad?” Harato asked, his thick, mossy green eyebrows rising. “You look like you’ve seen a whole pack of mhong howlers. And what happened to the sand?”

  “I need to go now, Harato. I’m sorry.”

  “Go? Go where? Why don’t you sit and tell me what’s gotten into you?”

  Yipachai sighed and clenched his jaw. He didn’t have time to explain. But for Harato’s sake, he supposed he could try. “I saw the bandits that took me. They’re sailing west, towards Amigawa. I have to go stop them.

  “Lad,” Harato said. “I think you’ll have a hard time outpacing them on foot.”

  “Then I’ll fly!”

  Harato gave him a no-nonsense look. “And what will you do when you get there? I don’t think your short time practicing the sword by yourself will go far against a ship full of hardened criminals.”

  “But we have to do something! What if they do the same thing in Amigawa that they did to the monastery?”

  Harato’s face softened as he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Slow down, Yipachai. I think a single ship will have a much harder time cracking into Amigawa, if that’s truly their intention. But, I will send a bird as soon as I can.” He paused for a long moment, regarding Yipachai with those wise brown eyes. “And if you’re truly set on leaving for the city…give it a few more days. At least that way you’ll be able to go with Takamoto and take these swords with you.”

  Yipachai’s anger deflated. He hated seeing that look on the old smith’s face. But then again, he hadn’t really thought Yipachai would stay at the smithy forever, had he? “I…alright.”

  After sharing a long look with Harato, Yipachai nodded and began the walk back to the beach to collect the staff and pails, leaving the Banqilun man with a sorrowful look in his eyes. But despite his guilt, Yipachai didn’t regret his decision. He wouldn’t change his mind.

  As soon as Harato finished those swords, Yipachai would be on his way to Amigawa.