The boy called in favors with old friends, and sold the remnants of his possessions. He had to book passage to Kishahn and hire guides. Orphans were dreaming of a temple in Kishahn, dedicated to a goddess called Zyra. Ewan wouldn't have paid it much mind if he wasn't trapped as a scrawny 8-year-old. He knew it was getting harder to wield magic, and his only lead was her temple.
Ewan's clothes were torn and rank with sweat and dirt. He and Shaggy had been traveling two days in the jungle. Surviving was difficult, but between the boy's sorcery and the wolfhound's bark they'd warned off most predators.
His map was crude - drawn by an teenaged erand-boyfrom the trading post - none of the sailors, merchants, or hunters seemed to know a thing about Zyra. Worry crept into his mind this was all a wild goose-chase. Even if he and Shaggy could make it back to the trading post, how would he return home? There was only enough coin for a one-way trip, and Ewan didn't relish having to work his way back to La'marri on a ship.
Suddenly Shaggy started barking excitedly. "Easy boy, easy, what is it?"
Through the thick trees and folliage Ewan spied carved stonework in the distance...