“Jack!” Annie shouted from the front yard.

Jack looked up from his book. Tired from a soccer game, he was lying on his bed, reading about volcanoes on Mars. Late-afternoon shadows stretched across his room.

“Jack! JACK!”

Jack stood up and crossed to the window. Annie was standing by her bike. A towel was draped around her neck; her hair was wet from swimming in the lake. She was looking up at the sky as if she was searching for something.

“What do you want?” Jack called through the screen.

“Come down!” she called. “Help me look.”

“Look for what?” said Jack.

“Just come! You won’t believe it!” said Annie.

Jack sighed. He marked his place in his book and went downstairs to the front porch. “This better be good,” he said. “I was in the middle of a book.”

Annie was still looking up at the sky. “Where did he go?” she said.

“Where did who go?” said Jack.

Annie didn’t answer. She walked to the edge of the yard and kept looking. “Oh, darn, I don’t see him!”

“See who?” said Jack. “What are you talking about?”

“The pigeon!” said Annie.

Jack stared at Annie for a moment. “Seriously?” he said. “You’re looking for a pigeon?”

“Yes!”

“You called me away from my book to see a pigeon?” said Jack.

“Yes! Help me find him!” Annie said.

Jack rolled his eyes and stepped into the yard. He looked up at the hazy sky.

“He was following me. He swooped down near my head,” said Annie, still looking in every direction. “I don’t see him now. Where could he have gone?”

“What’s the big deal?” said Jack. “We see pigeons every day.”

“Not like this one,” said Annie. “When I was getting on my bike at the lake, I heard a loud cooing. I looked up—he was sitting on a branch, and he looked straight into my eyes. He was super-intelligent, I could tell.”

“Are you sure you weren’t out in the sun too long?” asked Jack.

“I’m serious,” said Annie. “He had these intense staring eyes. I talked to him, like I said ‘hi,’ and then he took off. I thought, okay, so much for that. But then I started riding home and he flew in front of me—right across my path!”

“How do you know it was the same pigeon?” asked Jack.

“I just know. He circled above me all the way home!” said Annie. “He even swooped down a couple more times. But I don’t see him now … I don’t see him at all …” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at the sky and around the yard.

“Well, that’s enough pigeon-hunting for me,” said Jack. “I’m heading back to my book.” He turned to go inside.

“Ahh! I see him! I see him!” Annie whispered.

Jack stopped. “Where?”

“There!” Annie pointed to a plump pigeon perched on a bird feeder that was hanging from a maple tree. She stepped toward him. The pigeon didn’t move. She stepped closer and closer. The bird still didn’t move. “Oh, wow, Jack. You won’t believe this—I didn’t see it until now.”

“What? See what?” said Jack.

“Oh, wow, oh, wow,” Annie whispered.

Jack walked slowly toward Annie. When he reached her side, he stopped and stared at the bird, too. It was an ordinary-looking pigeon: smoky gray with black stripes on his wings and iridescent-green neck feathers. His amber-colored eyes stared at Jack.

“Look at his leg,” Annie whispered.

Attached to one of the pigeon’s spindly legs was a tiny red canister. “Whoa,” whispered Jack. “I think he’s a carrier pigeon.”

“A carrier pigeon?” said Annie.

“Yeah, they carried messages to people a long time ago,” said Jack. “There used to be lots of them, but not anymore.”

“Why not?” Annie asked.

“They’re not needed anymore,” said Jack. “Not with technology like the Internet and cell phones.”

The pigeon made a low cooing sound.

“Why did he follow you?” said Jack. “And where’d he come from?”

Annie took a deep breath. “I know where he came from. I just figured it out,” she said.

“Where?”

“Another time,” said Annie. “A time before the Internet and cell phones.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. “You think?”

“I know,” said Annie. “And the message is for us!” She moved a step closer toward the pigeon. But the bird flapped his wings and took off from the feeder. Then he soared out of their yard and up the street, disappearing into the trees of the Frog Creek woods.

“Let’s go!” cried Annie.

“Wait, I’ll get my pack.” Jack bolted into the house, grabbed his backpack from the hallway, and hurried outside.

Jack and Annie raced up the sidewalk. They crossed the street and ran into the woods. As they weaved in and out of dark-green shadows, the late-summer air smelled of sun-dried wood and fallen pine needles. Birds called lazily from the treetops.

Finally they stopped at the base of the tallest oak.

“Of course,” said Annie.

She grabbed the rope ladder that dangled from the treetop and started up. Jack followed and they both scrambled inside the magic tree house. Golden sunlight lit the stacks of books and the shimmering M in the floor.

“Of course,” said Jack.

A soft cooing sound came from the window. The carrier pigeon was pacing on the windowsill.

“Of course a million times,” said Annie, laughing. “Don’t fly away. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The pigeon stopped pacing and stared at her with his amber eyes.

“I can take that message from you now,” Annie whispered, “if you don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t mind,” said Jack. “He’s a professional.”

“Right,” said Annie. The pigeon was very still as Annie reached out and gently opened the lid of the red canister attached to his leg. She pulled out a tiny scroll. Then she snapped the lid shut and unrolled the piece of paper.

Annie and Jack looked at the writing together. It wasn’t elegant like Merlin’s or Morgan le Fay’s writing—it was the scrawl of a kid’s handwriting. Jack looked at the signature. “It’s from Teddy,” he said.

“Uh-oh,” said Annie. “What happened? Did he goof up again?”

“I’ll bet he did,” said Jack. They both laughed. The apprentice sorcerer from Camelot often made them laugh. Sometimes he made big mistakes when he tried to do magic. Many of the mistakes were funny, but a few had been terrible.

Annie read the letter aloud:

Dear Jack and Annie,

I sent Commando to find you.

“Commando?” Jack interrupted. “That’s a funny name for a Camelot pigeon.”

“Yeah, it sounds like a tough army guy,” Annie said. She kept reading:

Kathleen and I are working with the forces of good in one of the darkest hours of history. And we need your help.

Please come to Glastonbury, England. Right now.

Your friend,

Teddy

“I can’t wait to see Teddy and Kathleen,” said Annie.

“Yeah,” said Jack. He was especially excited to see Kathleen, a brilliant and beautiful young enchantress from Camelot. “But what does Teddy mean—‘one of the darkest hours of history’?”

Annie shrugged.

The pigeon made a low cooing sound.

“Commando wants us to hurry,” said Annie.

“Okay. Let’s go,” Jack said. He took another deep breath and pointed to the words Glastonbury, England on the tiny piece of paper. “I wish we could go there.”

The wind started to blow.

The tree house started to spin.

It spun faster and faster.

Then everything was still.

Absolutely still.