Charles Mayfield was turning thirteen today and clearly too old to be called “Charlie.” Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one who thought so. Mom had gone so far as to say that, if he was too old to be Charlie, then maybe he was too old to have birthday presents. That was clearly not true, so he thought he was bearing up quite well when Aunt Hepzibah pinched his cheek and called him “Little Charliekins” as soon as she arrived. He even put up with her asking if he’d done finger painting in art class, but when he opened his present, he wondered if it was all worth it. It was a sweater.

At first Charles thought it was a girl's sweater; there was too much lavender. But the shoulders seemed awfully wide when he unfolded it and held it up against himself, and as he looked closer, he did see a lot of blue. In fact, the background started out blue, faded into purple and lavender, then to pink and back to lavender and blue. Over that was a series of little patterns: X’s and O’s, patterns of dots, flower things, stars — all in cream, gold, and gray. It had the slightly uneven look of something handmade, but Charles was completely certain Aunt Hepzibah hadn’t made it herself. The whole effect wasn’t bad. It would have been a nice sweater for a girl who liked pastel colors. No boy who liked the shape of his nose would have been caught dead in it.

Charles bit his tongue hard to avoid saying anything Mother would make him regret.

“Yeah, thoughtful,” Charles said. He hoped it sounded sincere. He didn’t know what Aunt Hepzibah had been thinking when she picked out a girl's sweater for his gift, but something must have been going on in her head.

Charles didn’t want to have that thing in his birthday pictures. He might actually want to show them to some of his friends. He turned to Mom, hoping for sympathy.

“Now Hepzibah, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He might get frosting on the sleeve, and then he couldn’t wear it to school on Monday. Something that special needs special handling in the wash.”

Charles got the message and dragged the sweater over his head. He was supposed to be science partners with Abigail McClenn on Monday and he wasn’t about to do that wearing this sweater. He could put up with it for a few hours, and drag his arm through the cake somehow. Then Mom could lose the sweater in the wash.

When his head popped out, Charles could see his mother was smiling. “Now for our gift.” She reached behind Dad and took out a small, flat, thin, rectangular present, five inches by seven inches. It could only be one thing. Charles could hardly wait to pull off the paper. He didn’t need to see the title, just a few inches of the picture.

Mom was leaning over his shoulder. “Is that the right one? The kid in the electronics department said it just came out on Tuesday.”

“Yeah. You can be a ninja ranger, with double snake kick and healing. And when you customize your character at level two, you can do all kinds of cool stuff. There’s sixteen noses and Abby said it took half an hour to make her character. Girls get thirty-six hair styles and eighteen colors. Guys only get twenty-six.” Charles could see everyone’s eyes glazing over. He could understand them not getting ninja ranger, which was why he didn’t explain single hand ranged weapons and dominant hand bonuses, but he had thought they’d understand hair styles. “It’s really, really cool. Thanks.”

“That everything?” Aunt Hepzibah asked, pushing herself to her feet. When no one answered, she turned to Dad. “Where are the cards?”

Mom moved the coffee urn from the floor to the counter. Charles pulled the plastic off of his game.

Mom didn’t look up from assembling the filter, but she didn’t say no either.

Charles peeled away the security seal. He could tell he was winning, just a tiny bit more convincing. “I just want to see how it starts. I promise I won’t start designing my character or anything.”

“It will take twenty minutes for all this coffee to brew and me to get everything set up for cake, so you’ll come down as soon as I call you, right?”

“The second I hear you, I’ll go to the nearest save point and be right down.”

Half-way up the stairs, Charles looked back. “What if Dad and Aunt Hepzibah don’t come when you call?”

“We’ll give them five minutes and if they’re not here, you can go back up and play until the party ends.”

“Cool.” Charles ran up to his room before she could change her mind. He had the game up and running in no time, then sat on the bed watching the opening credits. He tried bypassing them, but none of the buttons seemed to do it. Then the opening movie. He had to watch that to get the plot, but it was cutting into his twenty minutes. The king was showing his castle, explaining the threat to the throne, then he was attacked. Charles sat up as he took control of the king. It was easy enough, just a few giant rats, but it also showed him the basic controls for fighting. If he could get through the intro level, he should hit a save point in time to go down for cake.

Charles had just learned the defensive parry when he saw a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye. He hit “START” and looked around. Nothing. Probably a floater in his eye.

He unpaused the game and practiced the slashing attack. There it was again. He looked around fast. It was bigger than a fruit fly. Maybe a moth. Hopefully not ants. He didn’t like those, or thousand leggers.

It didn’t come back until he was practicing fierce attacks. Charles saw it out of the corner of his eye, and then it was in front of him. A tiny person. Male, looking too young to call a man and too wise to be a boy. His slightly pointy face was unlined, with large brown eyes and thick brown hair under a small, acorn shaped hat. On closer inspection, Charles realized the hat wasn’t an acorn at all, but a knitted cap made to look like an acorn. The tunic he was wearing was knit too, only it was patterned to look like bark, like his hose. Only his little shoes didn’t seem to be knitted; they were felt. He was clearly hovering in the air, but Charles didn’t see any wings.

Charles slammed his thumb on the start button and stared. He’d clearly gone nuts. Then the little person spoke. “This is bad.” His voice was small, but not high or shrill as Charles would have imagined.

Charles managed to avoid asking the first question that popped into his head (“What are you?” sounded rude) and instead asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Bobble and I am one of the sprites working on the King’s grand plan to defeat the evil Necorious.”

“It is a great pleasure, Master Charles, and I would enjoy the opportunity to get to know you better, but I am on a mission and I must complete it.”

“Sure, I understand.” What Charles couldn’t understand was why the sprite was here if he had a mission.

“Look, I’ve got to get to this save point so I can start there next time and not have to re-watch the intro, then go down for cake.”

“And I too must return, so if you would just...” Bobble held out his little hand.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, it was a birthday gift. Do you need to sit down or something?” The sprite really wasn’t looking well.

The sprite sat on the edge of a bookshelf. “Gifted. How could it have gone so wrong? Gifted.” He started rocking back and forth, whispering, “Gifted. It was gifted.”

“Do you want some water or something?” Charles had no idea what to do to help the little guy.

Charles wasn’t sure what to do, so he tried an all purpose, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s quite all right. It isn’t your fault. You did not ask for the gift, did you?”

“No.” Charles put down the controller and went to the shelf. He knelt a little so he could keep an eye on the sprite, just in case he started to look worse. “Why does it matter so much? That it’s a gift I mean.”

“With a magic item like that one, something to be used personally by the owner, it needs to be gifted. Then it will take on the properties that will make it work for the owner. Of course that means that it will not work properly for anyone else. You see the difficulty.”

This sweater being magic was even harder to believe in than Bobble. “So if I gave it to you, it wouldn’t do you any good anyway.”

“If you waited until the party’s over, I could give it to you as a gift. Would that work?” Even as he said it, Charles knew that was too obvious.

“No, it is a good idea, but the gift has attached itself to you. It will not take a new owner until you die. Then it is fair game. That is why adventurers go looking for artifacts of dead heroes; they will attach themselves to anyone once the original owner has died, although the connection will never be as strong.” The sprite grinned and launched himself off of the shelf, “But I do think it would be rude to kill you on your birthday.”

Charles smiled. “That’s a relief.” He hadn’t really believed that the little guy would hurt him, but it was nice to hear.

The sprite flitted back and forth in front of Charles, twisting his little hands. “Well, I’ve found it. That’s something. They can’t fault me for losing it. What am I saying, of course they can. This is a disaster.” He started flitting faster. He reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out some knitting. He stopped wringing his hands and started knitting instead.

The sprite turned to him and slowed down, still knitting. “Not afraid, not really. I mean he’ll be mad, but he is fair, even though they were counting on this. I mean, anyone would be mad... But I am not afraid of King Regulous. Not really. Just...” He flung his arms in the air, almost throwing his knitting across the room, then started knitting again.

Before Charles could think of another question, there was a creaking sound. Charles ignored the noise. “Look, I’m really sorry you’re in some kind of jam, but...”

The creaking sound got louder, and was now accompanied by the rattling of every frame, book and action figure resting against the wall. It was impossible to ignore that. Charles turned away from Bobble and tried to figure out what was going on. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere above the wall that was shaking violently. As Charles watched, a crack began to develop along the join between the wall and the ceiling.

“What are you supposed to do in an earthquake? Is that where you stand in a door frame?”

But the sprite was giving him a blank look like he’d just asked if it was easier to get to Mars by boat or by car.

Charles looked around the room, wondering if he should run downstairs, and then it was too late. The ceiling was shaking so hard that little bits of plaster were flaking off and falling as a fine powder onto the floor. The crack was getting wider, growing along the seam between the wall and the roof, tiny cracks splintering off it. Charles looked around, hoping to see something that would protect him if the roof fell in. Maybe under the computer desk?

And then there was no roof. Charles stood there, dazed, staring up at the starry sky. It took him a moment to realize that the roof had not caved in on him as he’d expected, but peeled up. He wasn’t sure if he should run and hide or stay and try to figure out what was going on. Before Charles could decide if he was more scared or curious, there was a huge eye the size of a football looking over the edge of the ceiling. Charles stood there, trying to get his feet to move, as an enormous hand came through the hole in the ceiling and closed around him.

That woke Charles from his stupor. He started to struggle against the hand, kicking, punching, and trying to twist around and bite the fingers.

“Slippery little thing, aren’t you?” growled the giant, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

Chapter 2

At first Charles thought he’d fainted, but he was still able to hear the sprite muttering, “No, no, not yet,” over and over again, and there was a rush of wind in his face. And then, just as suddenly, it stopped. Charles blinked a few times and looked around.

Bobble was flitting around, still snapping at the giant, but not doing anything to help Charles get free. Charles doubted there was much the little guy could do against a giant, but he would have appreciated the effort.

They weren’t anywhere near his house. They weren’t anywhere near anywhere Charles had ever been before. It was a town, that much was certain, but the buildings were small, only a couple were more than two stories tall. All the rest were half-timbered, with shops on the ground floor and curtains drawn in the windows above. Bobble and the giant did not stop on any of the streets, but made their way to the center of the town. If this were Fantasy Kingdom, they'd either be going to the castle or the enemy’s stronghold.

The castle came into view over the buildings. It didn’t look like an enemy stronghold, but Charles knew it was a mistake to judge it until he saw the residents. The outer walls of the castle were thick stone with round towers every few yards. Through the open gates, Charles could see the keep, with thinner walls, more windows, and wooden doors that were large enough for Charles to see even from as far away as he was. They had gone several yards before Charles could begin to make out the guards, looking like toy soldiers left by the playroom door.

They passed through the first set of gates and into the marshaling yard. No one paid any attention to them. Normally Charles would have been very interested in the squires polishing their swords and the knights practicing some moves off to the side and the archers on the walls watching everything, but being kidnapped by a giant made things like that a bit less interesting.

They were passing into the inner courtyard when the giant stopped and Charles felt himself being lowered.

“Can’t go on. You’ll have to take him,” the giant grunted to the sprite. It would have been funny if Charles hadn’t been so worried about what was coming.

Bobble seemed surprised by this change. Or maybe it was just that the giant had spoken two sentences together. Bobble was definitely the less scary of the two kidnappers. If nothing else, Charles was pretty sure he could flick Bobble away. But Bobble didn’t seem to want him here anymore than he wanted to be here; maybe it would be easier to go along with Bobble and try to convince the sprite to send him home.

With that decided, Charles became a bit more interested in the castle’s defenses. As he followed Bobble inside, Charles tried to look for signs of the spell or defensive weapon that was keeping the giant out, but he quickly realized it was much simpler than that. Only one side of the second pair of gates was open and the giant couldn’t fit through the opening.

Bobble kept on talking, switching to Charles since he couldn’t keep nagging the giant. “It takes four men to open the gates, and Glorf is always afraid he will break them if he tries. He doesn’t know his own strength, or the strength of the doors. Welcome to the home of King Regulous of Pelimaa.”

The guards in purple and gold moved to block their way until Bobble flitted forward calling, “King’s business, let us pass.” The guards stepped aside at once and saluted as Bobble entered the castle.

Charles was impressed that someone so small could command such respect. He looked around the entryway. It was impressive enough to break through his panic. The walls were almost tall enough to have let the giant stand, with carving everywhere, concealing small windows Charles was sure hid archers. “Whoa, it’s just like something out of Fantasy Kingdom.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Fantasy Kingdom? It’s the video game I was playing. It has these kinds of castles, but there’s usually a hidden way in, somewhere on the grounds outside, to get you to the good stuff.” Charles realized he was babbling and stopped. Bobble was probably even less interested in the finer points of Fantasy Kingdom strategy than Mom and Dad.

“That would be with the safe-points?” At least Bobble was pretending to be interested, but he didn’t pause long enough for Charles to say anything else. “The main hall is this way. Perhaps it will interest you as well.” Bobble flitted away. Charles followed him.

The main corridor was worthy of the greatest kings of Fantasy Kingdom, all polished stone and bright tapestries, with carved wooden chairs and silk cushions. Charles could hear music and the buzz of voices. Bobble led him towards the sound.

“Don’t worry,” Bobble repeated those words over and over. It wasn’t until he started adding, “He’ll see you and send you right back,” that Charles realized they might be for his benefit and not just a private mantra. It was a hopeful thought. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t wanted, but he didn’t really care.

The sounds were coming from another pair of double doors, not as big as the ones outside but made of the same dark wood and carved deeply. There were two guards at the door and pairs of guards stationed along the hallway leading there. Several of them looked ready to stop him, then they saw Bobble and fell back. Bobble ignored them.

Twenty feet from the door, Bobble stopped murmuring and went forward in grim silence. Now Charles could hear the music over the hum of voices. It was being played on a cheerful instrument, maybe a mandolin, but it was a sad song.

As they approached the tall double doors, Bobble started wringing his hands again. The closer they got, the twitchier Bobble got. Charles wanted to ask if he was supposed to do anything when he met the king — bow, or speak, or stay silent until he was spoken too — but his throat had gone dry and the words got stuck. Hopefully he could just stand and nod.

The throne room was long and relatively narrow, with two rows of stone columns funneling the newcomers down the central aisle, over a green carpet, straight to the throne stairs. Bobble flitted ahead of Charles, down the center aisle. Charles followed.

There were many people wandering and whispering on the sides of the room, outside the columns, dressed in velvet and jewels, like extras in a Shakespearean play. Charles could see the king was standing near the throne, bent over a map, surrounded by men even grander than the ones milling around. Bobble had stopped wringing his hands and had them balled into fists at his side. They were shaking visibly. He started to speak, but his voice was just a croak. Bobble swallowed and tried again.

“Your Highness?”

The king’s head snapped up. “Bobble? Where are you?” The voice boomed out, filling every corner of the room. Every pair of eyes turned in his direction.

Bobble had stopped shaking. It was possible he’d stopped breathing, Charles couldn’t tell. Just when Charles was beginning to worry, Bobble flitted forward. Charles followed.

“So the sweater has been gifted. Bring the hero forward.”

“Well, Your Highness, it appears there was a bit of a, um, mix-up.”

“Bobble,” the king’s voice dropped ominously and he looked directly at the sprite for the first time.

Charles could see the moment the king noticed the sweater, the way his eyes focused on it, and the moment he realized what that meant.

“No,” the king hissed. Then he yelled, “How? How did this happen?”

There was a buzz of conversation as the advisers discussed this development.

Bobble darted forward, trying to explain how the confusion had started, while explaining that he didn’t really know.

Charles could feel the eyes of the advisers on him, judging, trying to blame him for this he was certain. Charles wished he knew what was wrong, why this sweater and the hero it belonged to were so important, if he was allowed to slink into the crowd and hide from the stares, and most of all, if he really was to blame for this mess.

Bobble was explaining the complex series of charms needed to find an unknown hero. The king was not paying attention. “And that helps us how?”

Bobble dropped his head. “I know, Your Highness. It is a great disappointment.”

“And how are we to fix it?”

All eyes were on him again, and Charles was certain he was the disappointment.

Four of the advisers on the dais began to offer suggestions and the court turned to them, trying to separate what the Minister of Finance was saying from the suggestion of the Minister of Defense

Charles didn’t bother to try and understand. He wanted to use the time to find a less-conspicuous spot, but when he tried to edge beyond the row of pillars, many heads snapped around to him.

One man melted out of the crowd at the dais. He was dressed brightly, but without the gold and velvet of the others. He walked right down the center aisle. Nobody paid any attention to him. “You probably want to sit down.”

Charles wasn’t sure how to answer that. Then the man smiled, not a broad smile, just a friendly crinkling of his face. “Come on.” The man rested a hand on Charles’s shoulder and led him towards the dais. Around the side, half hidden from the room, there were two chairs, one with a mandolin on it. The man gestured to the empty chair, then picked up the mandolin and sat in its place.

“I’m Phichorian. I didn’t get your name.”

“Charlie — I mean Charles.”

“Pleased to meet you. I take it you know Bobble. That’s King Regulous. The rest are pretty much interchangeable. Except for Sir Amertious in the armor. He’s the betrothed.”

“The betrothed?”

“Yes, Princess Melissina's betrothed. You don’t know about Princess Melissina, do you?”

“No.”

Phichorian sighed. “Then I’d better begin at the beginning. None of this makes any sense to you, does it?” He put the mandolin down, resting it against the dais. “Princess Melissina has been captured. That’s not the beginning, but it’s essential. We are in the midst of an attempt to overthrow the king. Bobble was creating an enchanted something to help the hero.”

“Yeah, this sweater.”

Charles thought Phichorian went a bit pale, but in the shadow of the dais it was hard to tell. “Oh dear.” Phichorian closed his eyes. “Oh dear. Well it can’t be helped. There was an opportunity to get intelligence from the usurper’s fortress. Everyone said we should wait for the hero, but Melissina went and now we have to get her back.”

“And you were waiting for the hero for that.” It was worse than he’d thought. Some princess’s life depended on this stupid sweater. Why couldn’t Aunt Hepzibah have gotten him a set of blocks again?

“It’s not your fault, Charles.” Phichorian rested his hand on Charles’s shoulder. “Not yours, and I don’t think it’s Bobble’s either. We’ve become too dependent on this idea of a hero. What’s important is to save Melissina. Sir Amertious should be able to handle that.”

Of course, Sir Amertious, the knight. Charles perked up a bit, “Then...”

“Sh.” Phichorian gestured for him to be quiet as he turned to the dais.

Bobble was speaking. “As you know, Your Highness, that was the purpose of the sweater. It would allow the wearer and a small number of others to pass through the enemy’s force fields.”

“It certainly worked well,” Sir Amertious muttered.

“There’s nothing wrong with the spell. It just ended up in the wrong hands.”

The king stood and both fell silent. “It would have been so simple. We could have sent the hero with a few men and set up a rescue mission. But now it falls to you, Sir Amertious. If there is a way to get in, you will have to undertake the mission. Bobble, how long will it take for you to recreate the spell?”

Bobble looked up. “The last one took almost a year. Now that I have worked out the full spell, six months might be possible.” Charles could tell Bobble knew this was not good enough.

“Six months?” Sir Amertious stared. “Six months? Do you know what they could do to her in six months? That won’t work.” He turned to the king. “I told you the sprite was worthless. If we want Melissina back, we need someone with more power.”

“It could still work,” Phichorian murmured. Even though his voice was barely more than a whisper, everyone stared at him. “Not permanently of course, but for one rescue mission, if Charles was willing to help us.”

Charles wasn’t sure he was willing to go along, but Phichorian was giving him such a pleading look.

“I guess I could.”

Sir Amertious was not convinced. “I’m not playing nursemaid to some green boy.”

“He doesn’t need to go anywhere near the fighting. Just get you though the spells around the fortifications.”

“Then what do we do, leave him at the door?”

“I’ll come along and keep an eye on him.”

Sir Amertious looked uncertain, but King Regulous spoke, “Then it is decided. How many will the sweater protect?”

Bobble flitted back into view. “Seven, at most.”

“All right. Does that include the boy?”

Bobble stared at Charles and Phichorian. “Seven armed men. If Charles and Phichorian are unarmed, they might count as one.”

“All right. All right. Sir Amertious would be two, so five more.”

The guards on the dais stood at attention, waiting to be chosen. The king made his selection. “Go and arm yourselves. Sir Amertious is in charge.”

“We leave in an hour.” Sir Amertious strode down the center aisle. The chosen guards fell in behind him.

“Come on,” Phichorian murmured. “I’ll take you to the armory and we’ll get some leather armor; it’ll be better than nothing.”

That didn’t sound very promising, but Charles went with him.

Chapter 3

Phichorian led Charles around the back of the dais and into another stone hallway, this one less ornate than the entry hall, but warm and dry. Charles’s sneakers squeaked on the stone floor.

Phichorian stopped at a thick wooden door and knocked. “It’s Phichorian the bard.”

“Enter,” said a low rumble.

Phichorian swung the heavy door open and murmured, “I’ll go in first.”

Charles didn’t mind at all. He liked the idea of the bard being between him and whoever had the grumbling voice.

“Never expected to see you here, Phichorian.”

“I’m on a mission for the king, with my friend Charles.” Phichorian rested his hand on Charles’s shoulder and pulled him forward. “Charles, this is Rothgar.”

Now he could see the man, tall and broad, with the pudgy look of an athlete gone to seed and the deeply lined face of someone who had lived outdoors. If he thought Charles and Phichorian were an odd pair to be on a mission for the king, he hid it well.

“Pleased to meet you,” Charles said, knowing he had to say something.

“Aye lad. As you can see, I’m too old to fight, so they put me in charge of the armory. I miss those old days, a good fight, a good horse, and stars as far as the eye can see. But that’s not why you’re here. What do you need?”

“I’d like you to outfit Charles. He won’t be doing any fighting.”

“But better safe than sorry. Wish some of these squires would think like that a bit more. Not that I did at that age.” He chuckled as he turned to the rows and rows of racks behind him. “There’s a nice set of leather armor back here, barely worn. Young Alcor had a growth spurt just after he got it. Isn’t that always the way? Here we go. That should do well. Now, what kind of saddle?”

Charles swallowed and almost dropped the armor he was holding.

Phichorian must have noticed. “I think a wagon would be best.”

Rothgar chuckled again. “Probably faster than any horse you could handle. I’ll let them know in the stables. You can handle arming him?”

“Should be able to.”

“All right.” Rothgar put his hands around Charles’s head above his ears and studied them. “You have a large head.” He walked away and came back in a moment carrying a helmet. “Looks like you’ve got something between those ears, best protect it.”

“Thanks.” Charles shifted the load he was carrying so he could take the helmet.

“Just be sure you wear it. Don’t want your brains too scrambled.”

Phichorian rested his hand on Charles’s shoulder again and led him back out into the hallway. Charles couldn’t decide if he was glad Phichorian was giving him discrete clues about what to do, or if he felt like a puppet. While he was considering it, Phichorian asked, “Mind if we stop for my stuff?”

At least he was a puppet with a say. “Sure.”

Phichorian’s room was on the third floor. It was smaller than the other rooms Charles had been in, with a single bed and a view of the courtyard. There were musical instruments on every flat surface. Phichorian gathered up a harp and a recorder from the bed and set them on the clothes chest. He motioned for Charles to take their place. Charles dumped the armor next to him as he sat.

Phichorian flattened himself on the floor and reached under the bed. He pulled out his own leather armor and helmet. Charles tried to remember what Phichorian was doing as he worked the complex series of buckles and straps that attached the various pieces over himself, but Charles quickly realized he’d never be able to remember how to get all his pieces in the right places. He picked up a large, rather flat piece. It either went over his back or his chest, Charles couldn’t tell. If he couldn’t manage that piece, then how would he know where all the small rectangles went?

Phichorian had gotten most of his armor on and was leaning against the wall, studying Charles. There were still a few pieces of leather on the floor. Charles even recognized two of them as gloves.

“I think you should wear the sweater on top of the armor. It will make the guards take you more seriously and give the magic a clear shot at whatever it needs a clear shot at.”

Charles could handle that. He pulled the sweater over his head and dropped it on the bed.

Phichorian poked through the pile of armor on the bed and pulled out another flat piece. “Hold that bit you’ve got in front of your chest and I’ll buckle this in the back.” Charles smoothed his dress shirt then held up the piece.

With Phichorian’s help, Charles got himself buckled into the armor. Once everything was adjusted, it was fairly comfortable- until he pulled the sweater back on. Even though the stone rooms were cold, the combination of leather and wool was hot.

Phichorian seemed to understand. “Tonight you’ll be glad of the extra layers.” He picked up his own gloves and helmet. “Come on, the sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be back.”

“And the sooner I can go home,” Charles thought as he grabbed his things and followed Phichorian out.

* * *

In the courtyard, Rothgar was waiting for them with the wagon. “You should be able to handle this on your own.”

“Thank you.” Phichorian used the spokes of the wheel as a step and climbed to the seat. Rothgar handed up the reins.

Phichorian got himself settled, then nodded towards the back of the wagon. “Charles, go around to the other side and climb up here by me.”

Charles walked along the side of the wagon, which was large enough for three or four people to lie down inside and covered with a canvas tent that had a large royal crest painted on it.

Charles copied what Phichorian had done to climb into the wagon. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be. Phichorian had some kind of brake set which kept the wheels steady as he climbed up. The seat was hard but not uncomfortable.

Sir Amertious came out from the stables, leading a horse so covered in armor Charles couldn’t even tell the color. “You’re ready?”

“Whenever you are,” Phichorian called.

Sir Amertious swung into the saddle, then turned to the stable door and gave a sign. The other five knights rode out on horses covered in slightly less armor than Sir Amertious’s.

“Try to keep up,” Sir Amertious called, looking directly at Phichorian. He turned his horse towards the main gate.

Phichorian let the other knights ride out behind their leader, then guided the wagon out after them.

As they rode through the gates, Charles looked back, to take another look at the castle.

King Regulous was standing on a balcony, watching them leave. He was half hidden behind a pillar, his shadow more visible in the flickering torchlight than he was, and Charles realized he didn’t want to be seen.

As the wagon approached the second gate, after all the other knights were outside, Charles turned and waved. He thought he saw the king smile and a slight movement of his hand, like he was waving back, but at that distance, Charles couldn’t even be certain it was the king.

* * *

As the small party rode towards the enemy fortress, Charles started getting nervous. This was more than a ride through a strange world, he was going into battle. He noticed very little of his surroundings until the fortress was in sight.

This fortress was not like the castle Charles had just left. It seemed larger, big enough to hold a whole town. The walls were thick but hastily constructed; all rough stone and sharp edges. The hinges and other metal were black iron, hastily pounded into shape, not the smooth, shiny metal of King Regulous’s palace. Charles couldn’t see how he was supposed to get them into this place.

Sir Amertious led them around the wall. As they got closer, the five guards moved in, surrounding Charles and Phichorian. Charles assumed it was to protect the two weakest members of the party.

The group approached a plain wooden door, apparently unguarded, and dismounted.

“All right,” Sir Amertious whispered. “Bobble said we all have to be touching it.”

“With or without gauntlets?”

“I didn’t ask that. Better safe than sorry.”

There was a scraping sound as six knights each pulled off a gauntlet. The instant Charles’s feet touched the ground, they all pushed in around him, each grabbing a handful of sweater. Phichorian was knocked aside in the confusion and Charles took a sword pommel to the shoulder.

“Hey, ease up! Let him breathe.” Charles felt Phichorian’s hand on his shoulder and relaxed. “And not too fast, some of us have short legs.”

The mob slowed down and Phichorian managed to push through and walk alongside Charles.

It took two knights to lift the latch and open the small door, since each could only use one hand. The opening was narrow and the knights had to spread themselves out, as close to single file as they could. Charles’s sweater was stretched out in front and behind him as the knights pulled him along towards the door.

“Hold out your arms,” Phichorian suggested. “Let them grab the sleeves. It will let them spread out more.”

Charles stretched his arms out to the sides. The knights rearranged themselves, two grabbing his cuffs and two his elbows, leaving only Amertious and Phichorian at his torso. It did make it easier for the knights, although Charles still had to sidle along with Phichorian and Sir Amertious pressed against him to make it through.

When all the knights were in the inner courtyard, Sir Amertious called a halt. Six hands dropped from Charles as six swords were drawn, and there was silence for several breaths.

“I think we’ve avoided discovery,” Sir Amertious murmured. “Good; Bobble wasn’t a complete fool.”

Charles wanted to defend Bobble, but Phichorian shook his head. Charles couldn’t tell if Phichorian knew what he’d been thinking or not, but he decided speaking up wouldn’t help anything anyway.

Sir Amertious was still giving orders. “You two will stay here. We will go in and rescue the princess.” He turned to the guards and nodded. They fell into position behind him. “Forward!”

The five guards saluted and followed their leader.

Phichorian saluted the retreating forms. “I guess there’s nothing for us to do but wait.” He settled down on a bit of fallen pillar. “Pull up a ruin and make yourself comfortable.”

Charles sat on a broken statue base.

“Any questions I can answer while we wait?”

Charles didn’t feel much like asking questions. He didn’t feel like thinking about anything but home. But Phichorian’s eyes kept darting towards the stone fortress. Charles thought Phichorian could use a distraction from his thoughts. “What was this place?”

“It started as a university, then it was fortified and used for storing records, until Necorious’s army took it over.”

“Did they do all of this?” Charles nodded towards the broken stones.

Phichorian nodded. “Pretty much. Some of it is just age, but they did help it along.” Phichorian looked around again, but this time he was actually seeing the stones.

That had worked well enough, so Charles tried another question. “What'll happen to Bobble?” As he said it, he realized he really was worried about the little guy.

Phichorian sighed. “I suppose it depends on exactly what went wrong. He was almost at the next level; that certainly won’t happen.”

“Next level?”

“A promotion within his guild. More prestige, more complex projects, more freedom. The main spell, the entering spell, seems to be working fine, so if he was careless and lost the sweater, that would be worse than a locator spell gone wrong. I suppose the rebels could have stolen it too. That’s always possible, if they knew about it. Then it would be a security breach, I’m not sure where that falls on the spectrum. At best it will just be a temporary demotion, some time on probation. The guild is not unreasonable; if he didn’t do anything too incompetent, he’ll be fine.”

Charles nodded, but he wondered if they could tell whose fault the incompetence was.

Phichorian was watching him now. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you know. It’s not your fault the sweater got misplaced. Whatever Bobble did, you were dragged into it after the fact.”

“I guess,” Charles murmured.

Phichorian looked ready to go on, but there was a crashing of armor and they both fell silent, hoping that the noise was coming from people on their side. Then the group turned the corner and Charles could see the knights returning. “That was fast,” he said more to himself than Phichorian.

“Too fast,” Phichorian replied. “Look, they don’t have Melissina.” He stood as he spoke. Charles jumped to his feet too.

“There was a problem?” Phichorian asked, trying to keep his voice light, even though his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking.

“Yes.” Sir Amertious was not one to beat around the bush. “Another door with a ward on it.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad.” Phichorian turned to Charles. “Are you up to it?”

“I guess so.”

Sir Amertious looked at them for a moment, then knelt down and slid his hands along the sides of his boots. When he straightened up, he was holding two thin daggers in worn leather sheaths. He pulled the blades half out and inspected them, then slid them back in and held them out to Phichorian and Charles.

Charles raised his hand to take one, until he saw Phichorian made no move to take the other.

Sir Amertious pushed the worn leather handle of one knife into Charles’s hand. He held the other one out to Phichorian. “You have to take it. You’ll be closer to the fighting. You’ll need defense.”

Phichorian looked ready to protest, but Sir Amertious kept holding out the dagger until Phichorian turned his palm up and let Sir Amertious put the dagger in his hand.

“If you want to be in on the fight, you have to fight,” Sir Amertious said.

“If you say so,” Phichorian muttered and stuck the blade through his belt. Charles copied him.

Sir Amertious led them to the second stone wall. There was another door, just as small and flimsy looking as the first.

“How do you know which doors are enchanted?” Charles asked. He looked at Phichorian as he said it, but it was Sir Amertious who answered.

“They are small and seemingly unprotected. Surely you’ve noticed.”

“I had,” Charles bristled a little. “I thought there might be more to it.” He turned to Phichorian. “Why make them so weak looking? Aren’t they asking for trouble?”

“He probably planned to use them as a trap, an easy way to catch his enemies. Necorious didn’t know that we knew about the spells he uses. He still might not. It must have been a great bit of espionage which enabled Bobble to make the sweater.”

“Espionage by the Order of Rooksguard, no doubt,” Sir Amertious added.

Phichorian ignored him. “It’s such a small thing; it will be very hard for Necorious to figure out how we got in.”

* * *

This time they had the system worked out and organized themselves around Charles’s outstretched arms in a few seconds. Sidling through the door was still a tricky maneuver, but once through, they were in a second courtyard, this one more run down, broken up, and overgrown, with lower walls that looked older than the outer walls, and more ornamentation and broken statues. The forest was starting to take over around the edges.

The guards fell into formation behind Sir Amertious. Sir Amertious turned to Charles and Phichorian. “It is safe enough here. It’s best if you stay here until we return. It is possible we will encounter large numbers of guards and we have to be focused on our mission, not on...”

Sir Amertious blustered on as if he was addressing a wayward troop of new recruits. When he had finished, Phichorian said, “I have no desire to fight. You know that. Good luck on your mission.”

Sir Amertious didn’t seem to know how to respond. Instead he turned to his men and began giving orders.

Phichorian sat on a flat piece of ruin. Charles watched Sir Amertious lead the guards around the corner and into the main part of the complex. When he was pretty certain they weren’t coming back, he sat down beside Phichorian and waited.

It was very quiet in the courtyard. Even though there were lots of trees, there were no birds, not even a breeze to rustle the leaves, just the sound of his own breathing and the occasional sound of Phichorian fidgeting.

Charles smelled it first. Burning. But he couldn’t tell what. Then he heard the crash of metal on metal and the screams of men. And then he saw it; the smoke and flames dancing up from the center of the compound.

Phichorian stood up. “Let’s have a look.” He climbed onto a stone foot to see over the edge of the wall.

Charles climbed up after him. He didn’t want to be left alone this close to danger.

Phichorian was looking thoughtful as he studied the battle taking place in the main yard. “So much for secrecy.”

Charles squinted at the fire. It seemed to be a bonfire made of old furniture and books and papers, presumably the remains of the library. “Did our side start the fire?”

Phichorian shook his head. “Even Sir Amertious would not be barbaric enough to allow books that old to be burned in battle. It was Necorious’s troops. Sir Amertious seem to have run directly into their forces, so they lit a bonfire to help them see the fight. They know they outnumber us, so they don’t need the cover of darkness. I would have snuck around in the shadows.” He turned to Charles. “Are you up for a bit of adventure?”

Chapter 4

Charles wanted to say “definitely not, no adventures!” but the words got stuck somewhere and all he could get out was “What?”

Phichorian went on with his planning. “I know what Melissina will do. If she sees this, she’ll know the rescuers will be in the battle, so she’ll try to get there too, but not so close that she could get caught in the fighting.”

It seemed logical to Charles, but he didn’t see what that had to do with them.

“All of the knights are involved in the battle.”

Now Charles could see where this was going, and he didn’t like it. “They told us to stay here.”

“Just half way around. I know she’ll be there.” For the first time Phichorian was completely serious.

“How do you know she’s able to get there?”

“If she was fully under their power, their threats would have been more direct. We haven’t gotten any locks of hair or severed fingers, so even though they have her trapped in here with that door, she can fight back.”

Charles could feel his resolve being shaken. “Which half?”

“You go one way, I’ll go the other.”

It would have been bad enough with Phichorian, but skirting the battle on his own... “No, that’s crazy. I can’t fight.”

“Neither can I, not really. But that’s the beauty of the plan. She won’t be near enough to the fighting to be seen, so we have to be that far away too. No fighting.” Phichorian climbed down from the wall. “I know you didn’t want this Charles, but you’re here now and if you could help, you could do a lot of good. If you don’t want to, I’ll understand, and I’ll stay right here with you, just like Sir Amertious said we should.”

Charles wanted to stay in the relative safety of the smaller yard almost as much as he wanted to side with Phichorian over Sir Amertious. “All right, but no fighting.”

“No fighting.”

Charles followed Phichorian around the end of the wall. Phichorian whispered, “Which way?”

“I’ll take right, I guess.”

“Then I’ll go left. Stay inside the tree line; we’ll meet up by that stone tower and come back here together. Straight back, I promise, through the trees.”

Charles watched Phichorian slink into the trees, noting where he entered, then picked a similar spot on the right. He looked towards the fight and moved deeper into the trees until he could barely see the skirmishes on the edges. He figured if he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see him either. Then he concentrated on making it around to the meeting place. If Princess Melissina was there, she’d have to find him. He didn’t even know what she looked like, but everyone seemed to recognize his sweater.

That was actually a logical plan. Charles was quite proud of himself. He wasn’t so bad at this questing.

As Charles was congratulating himself, there was a rustling of leaves. Before he even thought of reacting, the branches of the nearest tree snapped down and someone landed on the path in front of him. Charles stumbled back. He fumbled for a weapon, finally snatching up a stick from a bush. The stick snapped as he held it, leaving little more than a twig. But it was still better than nothing. He held it out in front of him like a sword.

“Isn’t that a sword in your belt?”

Charles squinted into the shadows. The figure stepped forward, which helped him realize that it was a young woman in a leather tunic and leggings with light blonde hair pulled back and mostly hidden under a burlap hood.

“Actually, it’s a knife. You’re the princess, aren’t you?”

She smiled. “Yes, and you have Bobble’s sweater, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

The fire flared up, sending sparks into the air and illuminating the fighting.

Princess Melissina became serious. “Are you here with Sir Amertious? Did he send you?”

Charles wasn’t sure how to answer. As he was thinking, there was a crash and a tree limb fell, giving them a clear view of the battle, and the combatants a clear view of them.

“Come on.” Princess Melissina grabbed his arm and pulled him further into the trees.

Charles pulled back. “This way, towards the tower. Phichorian’s waiting for us there.”

Princess Melissina started to run. “Phichorian? He came?”

Charles nodded. “To keep me out of trouble. Sir Amertious is out there, in the fighting I think.”

“He would take the direct route.” She seemed more amused than annoyed.

Charles fingered the hilt of the knife. As Princess Melissina slowed to get her breath and check they were on course, he pulled out the knife and held it out to her, hilt first as he’d seen it done in Fantasy Kingdom. “Do you want this?”

Princess Melissina looked up. “Do you know how to use a knife?”

“Only to eat with.”

“Then I’d better.” She took the knife and stuck it through her belt. “If we find a dangerous loaf of bread, I’ll return it.”

Charles grinned. “I might even be able to handle a cheese monster.”

Then they were running too fast to speak, or even to think. The battle was too loud and confused to let anyone hear them as they crashed through. Whenever the battle was close enough to be seen, Princess Melissina veered further into the trees.

The tower was in sight when Charles heard, “Melissina! You’re all right!” Phichorian ran forward and grabbed her hands, then dropped them just as quickly.

Princess Melissina pretended she hadn’t noticed. “Yes, Bobble found us a good hero.”

“Not that I did much,” Charles murmured. He could feel his face burning.

Princess Melissina grinned but let it drop. “How do we get out of here?”

“All the way back around.” Phichorian smiled. “Not the most convenient, but I did promise Charles no fighting.”

Charles noticed the way Phichorian had avoided saying that Charles had been afraid and appreciated that.

Phichorian went to the edge of the trees and looked through. “It looks like the fighting is heavier the way you came, I’m sorry about that Charles.”

Princess Melissina nodded. “Then we’ll go back your way.”

It was easier going back, with fewer crashes from the battle and fewer detours. They arrived at the entrance before any of the guards. Phichorian used his sleeve to dust off a fallen arm and offered the spot to Princess Melissina. Charles sat on another statue base. Phichorian paced around, waiting.

“Should we let the guards know we found you?” Phichorian asked.

Princess Melissina shook her head. “Not yet. We’re safe enough here and they might see something useful in there.”

Charles leaned against the wall and watched Phichorian and Princess Melissina fall into silence. As he watched the doorway the guards had left through, he wondered how they would get Princess Melissina out. If Bobble was right, the sweater had barely protected them.

There was a crash of armor and the guards ran in, Sir Amertious bringing up the rear. Charles, Princess Melissina and Phichorian watched them run across the lawn, towards the stone arch. When they didn’t speak or stop, Phichorian called out, “Are we retreating?”

Sir Amertious didn’t break his stride. “Yes, it would take an army to free her. Get that sweater over here.”

“And Charles?”

“What? Oh the boy. Yes, bring him.”

“And me?”

At the sound of the princess’s voice, Sir Amertious froze. “How?”

“Charles and Phichorian. Were we getting out of here?”

“Yes, yes.” Sir Amertious fumbled, then turned to Charles. “Come on, boy. Get us out of here.”

Charles went to the entrance and held out his arms. As everyone jostled for position around him, Charles realized he had to ask, “Can we all fit through? Bobble said...”

Sir Amertious cut him off. “Of course we can.”

Princess Melissina rested a hand on Sir Amertious’s arm, silencing him. “What did Bobble say?”

“That the sweater could protect seven armed men and Phichorian and I counted as one.”

Princess Melissina looked over the company, counting silently. “So kind of you all to be so sure of my rescue. Oh I don’t mean you, Phichorian, stop looking so glum. We’ll just have to make two trips, that’s all. Phichorian, you go through with three men, then bring Charles back for the rest of us. Quite a simple matter really; you could have brought an army through if it was needed, Amertious.”

Sir Amertious did not look chastened as he watched the three guards follow Phichorian and Charles.

* * *

With fewer people to get through the doors, the multiple trips through went much faster. Princess Melissina did not seem pleased when Sir Amertious showed her the wagon. No one offered her a horse. Charles didn’t think that anyone else noticed her reaction, until he turned and saw Phichorian approaching her.

“I’m sorry for the less than heroic transport.”

Princess Melissina smiled back at him. “I understand. You didn’t know what state you’d find me in.” She ignored Sir Amertious’s outstretched hand and climbed into the wagon herself. As she balanced with one foot on the axle and one in the air, she stopped, just close enough to Phichorian so only he and Charles could hear her whisper, “I know you’d give up your horse if you’d brought one.” Then she swung her other leg up to the wagon and disappeared inside.

Phichorian motioned for Charles to follow him to the front of the wagon. As Charles settled in, Phichorian turned and spoke to Princess Melissina through the opening. “Would you like to ride outside?”

Princess Melissina looked longingly at the outdoors, but said, “It’s probably safest if everyone we pass doesn’t run out and say the princess was seen traveling on the King’s Road with a company of knights.”

“You’re probably right.” Phichorian turned his attention to the horses.

Now that the princess was safe, Charles was feeling better. The sweater seemed to be important to the larger battle, but the most pressing problem had been rescuing the princess, and that was done. Bobble would make a new sweater and they’d have it in six months. He could go home with a clear conscious. He hoped so anyway.

In any case, the ride back was a lot more fun, and, as the sun came up, Charles started to pay attention to the land they were traveling through. It was a lot like the world of Fantasy Kingdom XXI, without the giant rats, killer spiders, and various half human things running out to attack from behind every bush and under every bridge.

* * *

The sun had been up for hours when they rode into the village surrounding the castle. Charles had barely acknowledged its existence when Glorf had brought him through or on the way to rescue the princess, now he could pay attention. He hadn’t even seen that there was a second stone wall surrounding the main town, like Necorious’s fortress, only this wall was in good repair and much less scary.

The first thing Charles noticed about the wattle and daub houses outside the wall was a strong smell of smoke. He sniffed the air again, then turned to Phichorian. “Do you notice anything strange?”

Phichorian looked around, then sniffed the air himself and shook his head. “Just cooking fires. Unless you noticed something else?”

Cooking fires. Charles had forgotten about those. Of course they wouldn’t have stoves here. He tried to recover. “I guess I’m not used to being somewhere that’s in the middle of an attempt to usurp the king.” He was proud of himself for remembering the word “usurp,” although he wasn’t sure that he’d fooled Phichorian.

Charles kept his mouth shut for the rest of the trip. Instead he watched the small houses as they rode by. As the small band passed the doors, heads peered out and Charles could tell the moment they realized the knights served King Regulous and not the usurper. The relief in their faces was obvious. Then they scanned the figures on horseback, and their faces fell. After the eighth house, Charles understood. They were looking for the princess, but she stayed inside the wagon. The guards stayed close, so she probably couldn’t have been seen anyway. A few villagers came outside and wandered alongside the road, following the company through the first set of gates into town while trying to look like they weren’t.

Then they were at the castle gates. The guards on the walls were looking too, searching for any sign of the princess. Phichorian smiled up at them as they rode through. Charles could see the guards relax.

In the courtyard, the guards on duty stood very straight while those in the practice yard found things to be done on the edge closest to the wagon. Phichorian hopped down as soon as someone had grabbed the horses. Charles followed him around to the back of the wagon.

The guards were already pushing the gates closed when Princess Melissina stood in the back of the wagon, framed by the opening, visible to the town for a moment before the gates closed. Before the gates slammed shut, Charles saw the townspeople who had followed the wagon running back with their news while several guards scrambled to help Melissina down. She didn’t bristle as she had when Sir Amertious had tried to hand her in.

Chapter 5

When the small party entered the throne room, the king was still on the dais, surrounded by the same advisers. Charles had the feeling none of them had moved since he’d last seen them.

Princess Melissina acted the princess as she entered the throne room, dignified and silent, but, as soon as she was through the doors, she wove through the guards, pushed past Sir Amertious, and ran to the dais. “Father!”

The counselors moved out of the way, giving their king plenty of room to greet his daughter as she ran up the steps.

By the time the reunion was over, Charles and the rest of the party had reached the dais. The king turned to Sir Amertious as he approached.

“You brought her back to me.”

“As was my duty, my liege.”

“Father, it was Charles who found me.”

“Charles, my boy, maybe I misjudged you.”

Charles felt his face go red again. “It was Phichorian’s plan.”

“Then there is much praise to go around. Sir Amertious, what of their defenses?” King Regulous and Sir Amertious bent over a map spread out on a table near the throne.

Princess Melissina reached into the pocket of her tunic and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. She brushed past Sir Amertious and spread the parchment out on the table over the map they were using. “I found this, Father. It seems to be an accurate map of their defenses and their current strongholds.”

“Sir Amertious, come look at this.”

Sir Amertious moved back in front of Melissina and began pointing to things on the map.

Phichorian led Charles around the side of the dais and back to the chairs where they had waited before. “Don’t worry, as soon as His Highness hears the details of the fortress, he’ll start on your return.”

“I hope so.”

There was a slight breeze over his shoulder, then Bobble was there, floating in front of them, his knitting in his hand. “So it worked? It got you all in?”

“It got us in,” Phichorian confirmed.

“So the mistake wasn’t in that spell. That’s a relief.” He saw Charles’s expression and added, “Not that I thought there would be a problem with it. I would have spoken if there was even the slightest risk. But it is a relief to know. I mean...”

“Will it go better for you like this?”

Bobble started to knit. “That is for others to decide, of course, but it does show there is nothing wrong with my magic, so I shouldn’t be banished. And Princess Melissina did say you helped, that should be in my favor.” He flitted back and forth, his needles flying.

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Phichorian promised.

Charles was going to make the same promise when they heard Princess Melissina yelling, “Well someone had to! If we’d kept waiting for Bobble’s sweater, we never would have gotten it.”

Charles saw Bobble’s face go red. Phichorian reached over and rested his finger on Bobble’s shoulder.

“I told you he was worthless,” Sir Amertious growled.

“The sweater got you through, didn’t it?”

The king yelled louder than either of them, “That doesn’t answer why you, Melissina, took it upon yourself to storm the enemy fortress...”

“Sneak in, I’m not stupid enough to storm it, and if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t know about the triple layer of defenses or the new layout of their forces and we could have lost the town of Lower Sunvale.”

“Better Sunvale than you.”

“Tell that to Sunvale.”

“Princess, your father does have a point. The loss of a princess would be a symbolic loss the people could not endure. Surely there was another way.”

“And what were you doing?”

“Waiting for the sweater like a sensible person.” Charles realized Sir Amertious had expected to be given the sweater himself.

The king raised his voice again. “We are not discussing Sir Amertious. That is for later. We were discussing your foolishness.”

Charles was feeling sorry for Princess Melissina. It had been bad enough feeling he’d messed up while he was sitting in this corner, she was being chastised in front of the whole court.

Phichorian pitched his voice to be heard over the yelling without yelling himself. “There is another issue, my liege, which should be dealt with first.”

The king turned to him.

Phichorian nudged Charles and hissed, “Stand up.”

Charles stood.

“Of course. You need to go home. Let me think a moment.” He sighed. “You say the sweater worked?”

“Yes, Father, it did.”

King Regulous looked at Charles again. “Would you mind a small delay in your return?”

Charles did mind, but he didn’t know how to say that with King Regulous and Princess Melissina looking so certain he’d agree to it. Instead he said, “I guess not.”

“Excellent. There is a university not far from here. The scholars there might be able to figure out something to help with the sweater. Sir Amertious, you will accompany him to Kirjavale.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Sir Amertious bowed.

“I’ll go with them, Father. Amertious and I have things to discuss.”

“Very well.”

“If it would be permitted,” Bobble spoke up, “if it would, I would like to accompany him as well. Perhaps the scholars of Kirjavale could tell me where I went wrong.”

“That is reasonable,” the king said.

Charles turned to Phichorian. He had always explained everything so well; Charles was hoping he would agree to come along.

Phichorian understood at once. “I’ll go too and keep an eye on Charles for you.”

“Very well,” the king said.

Sir Amertious looked relieved.

“Anyone else joining up? No? Fine, Sir Amertious get yourself prepared.”

Sir Amertious bowed and left the dais.

“Come on,” Phichorian murmured. “We’d better get ready ourselves.” He grinned at Charles. “Don’t look so worried. The University is maybe half a day’s journey from here and on perfectly safe roads. Have you ridden before?”

“Um, well...” Charles wondered if carrousel horses counted.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. I’m not much with horses either. Maybe a wagon again. Then we could rest on the way there.” As he spoke, Phichorian was leading Charles through narrow hallways until he reached the door to his room and gestured for Charles to enter.

“You can take my bed. Stack your armor on the chair and I’ll be certain it gets packed in wagon with mine. I’ll get some things together and see what Sir Amertious has planned.”

Charles felt guilty sleeping while Phichorian worked out the details of their journey.

“Then I’ll kick you out of bed and nap myself.”

That did it. Charles managed to unfasten enough buckles to get the armor off, then unlaced his shoes and left them by the clothes chest, climbed under the covers and tried to sleep.

* * *

Charles was awakened by someone shaking him. He rolled over and saw Phichorian there.

“I said I’d wake you.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Charles stumbled out of bed.

“Go with Bobble. He’ll take you to the kitchen for food and back here to get me when Sir Amertious is ready to go.”

Hearing his name, Bobble flitted forward. “Yes, yes, come with me.”

Charles followed Bobble into the stone hall and down to the kitchen. It was a huge room, with two large fireplaces and many, many people milling about.

“They keep a cold table through those doors over there. It should be set for lunch already. Go on, you’re considered part of the household.”

Charles went through the doors Bobble was pointing to. On the other side, he found a small room almost filled with a table. There was an old servant sitting by the door.

Bobble hovered in front of the man. “This is Charles. He was part of the group who went to rescue the princess.”

“All right, then help yourself.”

Bobble gestured to the table. Charles looked at the plates and found cheese, bread, dried fruit, preserved meat, and some vegetables. He filled a plate and brought it to one of the chairs lined up along the wall. Bobble flitted over and sat on the back of Charles’s chair. He made a little wave of his hand and his knitting appeared again.

“Anyone call you Bob?”

“Certainly not.”

That had been the wrong way to be friendly. Charles tried again. “What is this room?”

“It’s for the servants' midday meals. They all have their various duties and come here when time permits. Old Josh there used to be the head butler, but he’s a bit too — forgetful to do that now. He still remembers everyone though, and he makes certain only those from the household dine here.”

“I see.” Asking Bobble for information seemed to make the sprite warm up to him. Charles tried again. “What’s this place we’re going to?”

“Kirjavale? A university. Some of the best scholars in the land are there. One of the king’s old tutors is in charge, and if she can’t solve the problem of the sweater, no one can.”

Charles separated his carrots from his leeks as he asked, “Can she send me home?”

Bobble hovered a little closer and his voice became gentle. “That will be done here. You have an affinity for your world; it isn’t difficult to use that, to let it pull you back through the fissure at the place where you crossed between worlds. You won’t have any trouble going back.”

“Thanks.” Charles finished off his vegetables and considered going back to the table for seconds, but two guards came in just then, greeted Old Josh, and went to the table.

“Hey, Bobble, Sir Amertious is looking for you and the kid.”

“Thank you.” He turned to Charles. “Are you done?”

Charles stuffed the last piece of cheese in his mouth and nodded.

“Then we’ll get Phichorian and be on our way.”

* * *

The University really was less than half a day’s journey from the castle. It resembled the ruins Charles had seen at Necorious’s stronghold, only the walls were all sound and the statues intact. There were no guards in most of the towers, just four standing on the wall above the main gates.

Melissina pushed her horse past Sir Amertious and approached the gates, calling up to the guards. “We’re here to see Dean Shellwood.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” answered the guard with the most gold on his uniform. “I’ll have the gates opened at once.”

Melissina brought her horse back by the wagon. Sir Amertious stumbled back as the gate swung out almost hitting him. Charles stared hard at his shoes so he wouldn’t burst out laughing as Sir Amertious scrambled out of the way.

“Your Highness,” the guards all bowed as their leader spoke. “The Dean is in her office. I have sent a cadet to inform her of your arrival. If you would leave your horses with our grooms, it would be my honor to show you the way.”

“Thank you,” Princess Melissina smiled at each of the guards as she rode into the courtyard.

Five grooms ran up to Princess Melissina's horse, all wanting to be the one who helped her down and took care of her horse.

Sir Amertious swung down and glared at the grooms, waiting for one of them to acknowledge him. Phichorian chuckled as he watched Princess Melissina manage to make every one of the grooms feel like he had helped her. Only then did they notice the other guests and lead the wagon and Sir Amertious’s horse to the stables.

Sir Amertious did not seem to find this as amusing as Phichorian did.

* * *

The captain of the guards led them into the university, through a rotunda, into a long hallway, and finally into the dean’s office. “Dean Shellwood, your highness.”

The woman behind the desk looked up from her papers as the door creaked open.

“Oh my,” she stood up and came around the desk. “Very unusual.” She touched Charles’s sleeve. “How did you get this?”

Charles swallowed. He still felt guilty telling the story. “It was a birthday present from my Aunt Hepzibah”

“Oh my. Where did she get it?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean Shellwood leaned back against the desk. “Well, take it off and I’ll see what can be done.”

No one had suggested that, or seemed so confident that they understood the problem. Charles pulled off the sweater and handed it over. The cold air brought goose bumps under his dress shirt.

Dean Shellwood draped the sweater over her arm and turned to Bobble. “I take it this is your work?”

“Yes ma’am.” Bobble kept his head down.

“Then I’ll want your expertise. Phichorian, why don’t you take, what is your name dear?”

“Charles.”

“Take Charles and show him around the campus. Camille is in the library. She’ll know what rooms are empty if you would like to rest.”

Phichorian placed a hand on Charles’s shoulder and led him out of the room. Sir Amertious and Princess Melissina followed them into the hall and went out the first door to the courtyard.

Phichorian led Charles out through another door. “I think they want to be alone.”

Charles nodded.

Chapter 6

Phichorian seemed to know where they were going and led Charles through the maze of offices and classrooms and back to the courtyard. “The library is that big building in the center.” Phichorian pointed before starting across the lawn.

“You know your way around.” Charles hoped Phichorian would take the hint and explain.

“I attended this university before I went to work for the king.” He turned to Charles. “Surprised?”

Charles tried to shrug, but he was in the middle of chaffing his arms to warm them so it didn’t come out quite how he’d intended. Phichorian seemed to understand.

“Sir Amertious would be shocked, but I am a fully qualified wizard, specializing in the useless area of ancient mythology. It’s how I met Princess Melissina.” Phichorian caught the door handle and pulled the door open, gesturing for Charles to go in ahead of him.

The library wasn’t that different from other libraries Charles had seen. Instead of computers, there were desks with large manuscripts chained to them. Other than that, there were the usual tables with students and rooms of bookshelves just like back home.

Phichorian nodded to a student shelving books. “I bet that’s Camille.” Hearing her name, Camille turned.

Phichorian smiled and crossed the room. “Dean Shellwood said you would know of empty rooms for us.”

“Oh she did?”

Phichorian ignored her skeptical tone of voice. “Yes, I’m not sure if she meant just us or Princess Melissina and Sir Amertious as well. She may take care of them herself. And Bobble the sprite can certainly stay with us. He doesn’t take up much room.”

Charles and Phichorian may not have impressed Camille, but their traveling companions certainly did. “There are empty rooms in the Finnegal Tower. I’ll get a key.”

* * *

The room Camille brought Charles and Phichorian to was small and simple, with two beds and two desks. It was slightly warmer than the hall, but Charles was still tempted to wrap himself in the blanket. He hadn’t realized how thin his dress shirts were.

Phichorian flopped down on the bed closest to the window and hung his head and shoulders down between the bed and the wall. Charles could see Phichorian feeling around until he called, “Found it!” His legs kicked around until he managed to get them under him and leverage himself up. “Here we are. Something Sir Amertious would never think of looking for: an against-the-rules firepot. Hold this while I get the stand.”

Charles took the black iron, egg shaped thing Phichorian held out to him and watched Phichorian flatten himself against the wall until he found what he was looking for. It was a round, black iron, five-legged stand which Phichorian placed in the middle of the room.

“Just balance that in the middle, wide end down.”

The firepot balanced easily in the wide top circle of the stand and the smaller inner circle kept it off the floor.

Phichorian shook his hands a few times, then rested them on either side of the egg. Charles watched as the egg started to glow, then go dark. Phichorian took his hands away and nodded. “It should warm up in here now.”

Charles stared at the firepot. It had gone back to dull black iron. He knew Sir Amertious wouldn’t believe it was hot, so he reached his hands out, hoping he looked like he was warming them and not checking on it.

The firepot was warm, not as hot as a real fire, but his hands were feeling nice and cozy.

“Told you I was a fully qualified magic-user,” Phichorian grinned so Charles would know he didn’t mind Charles’s doubt. “Once it’s finished warming up, we can toast things over it. Maybe toasted bread and cheese sandwiches.”

Charles thought it sounded like a grilled cheese sandwich. “Where do we get the cheese?”

“Another university trick Sir Amertious would not know, or approve of, but no magic this time.” He pulled his knapsack towards him and took out a small bag from the front pocket. “It’s always good to know where you can pilfer a bit of food. I do like to keep in practice.” He unknotted the bag and nodded to the bed. “Spread out my cloak so we have something to put this on.”

Charles did, and took Phichorian’s small knife out of a pocket. Phichorian’s bag had bread, cheese, apples and a flask, which Phichorian sniffed and said was apple cider.

While Charles sliced the bread and cheese, Phichorian searched the room until he found a thin metal rod they could use as a toasting fork.

Phichorian gave the first of the finished sandwiches to Charles. It was like a grilled cheese sandwich, warm and gooey and very good.

“Like it?” Phichorian asked as he bit into his own sandwich.

Charles nodded.

Phichorian took a swig from the cider flask then handed it to Charles. “The sandwiches are good with apples in them too. Should we try it that way next?”

Before Charles could answer that it sounded good, there was a rattling at the door. Phichorian got up and looked out into the hallway. Bobble was there. “Are you busy? Can I bother you?”

“Come on in,” Phichorian said.

Bobble flitted over and landed on the edge of the desk.

“Did they figure it out?” Charles asked.

Bobble managed a weak smile. “Nothing was obvious at first glance. Dean Shellwood wanted to try a few things on her own. It will be fine, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Of course it will,” Phichorian said. “Help yourself to some fruit.”

Bobble took a piece of apple but didn’t eat it. “I mean, if it was something very bad, she would have seen it right away.”

“Definitely,” Phichorian answered.

“So it’s something unusual.”

“Probably something you couldn’t have predicted,” Charles added.

Phichorian smiled at him.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.” Bobble picked up the piece of apple and started to eat.

Phichorian let Bobble relax for a little while, then asked, “Do you know when they’ll want us?”

“Dean Shellwood said she’d send students for us, but not for several hours yet.”

Phichorian nodded and turned to Charles. “Would you like to see some more of the campus?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” Phichorian asked.

Charles shrugged.

“Missing your parents?” Bobble asked.

Charles didn’t want to say that the delay, even of a few hours, was much too long. But he remembered how focusing on his problem had made Bobble ignore his own. “Just worried about them. I know they’re wondering where I am. And I don’t know what I’ll tell them.”

“What do you mean?” Phichorian asked.

“I don’t want to tell them that I ran away; that would hurt them too much. But if I say I was kidnapped, that’s a whole different set of problems. I’d have to say how the kidnappers got in, and describe them, and there’d be police, and what if someone matches the description and gets arrested. And the truth is definitely out. They’d never believe that.”

“That is a problem,” Bobble murmured.

Phichorian nodded. “It is. I’ll give it some thought. Maybe I can come up with a good story for you, although it will be difficult since I don’t know the structure of your authorities. Oh well, a good story is a good story. Should we go on that tour now?”

“All right.”

“You coming, Bobble?”

“I’d better since you don’t know the new laboratories and work rooms. The recently added crystal room is particularly impressive.”

“Then we’ll start there, if you don’t mind.”

Bobble looked very enthusiastic about it.

“Sounds good.”

* * *

The crystal room was impressive. Instead of the shelves of little stones Charles was expecting, the room looked like a cave. The walls, the floor, and the many rocks in the center of the room were carpeted with crystals. They were covering every surface except for the small stone paths cutting through the room.

There were students in the room too, filling small baskets with crystals.

“They’re harvesting,” Bobble told him.

“Harvesting? You mean they’re growing?”

“That’s right, take a look.”

Charles wandered around, fascinated by the tall quartz crystals, the blankets of small salt crystals, and the many colors of the tourmaline crystals. After Charles and admired everything he could see and had asked about everything that interested him, one of the students gave Charles a small piece of malachite as a souvenir.

As they were admiring a fine collection of geodes, Sir Amertious walked into the crystal room, his boots clanging on the floor, making the crystals shake.

“Gently,” one of the students hissed.

Sir Amertious tried to muffle his steps. “The Dean wishes to see all of us now.”

Bobble got very quiet.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Phichorian said, but Charles couldn’t tell if he meant it for him or Bobble.

Princess Melissina was waiting in the hall. She fell into step beside Charles and Bobble. “If there’s a way to fix it, Dean Shellwood will find it. She’s been a great friend to our family for many years.”

* * *

Dean Shellwood was in a workroom, beside a long table with the sweater in the middle of it. Behind her were shelves filled with gadgets, gyroscopes and scales and fancy bottles that Charles would have liked to examine if he hadn’t been so nervous.

Dean Shellwood looked up. “This is a very peculiar problem. I do not see any sign that the locating charm failed.”

“Locating charm?” Princess Melissina asked.

“Yes,” Dean Shellwood answered. “Bobble added a very complex locating charm to the sweater.”

“It was supposed to find the hero,” Bobble murmured.

“What were the exact words?” Dean Shellwood asked.

“Find the true owner of this sweater,” Bobble answered.

“That seems right, and there is nothing wrong with the charm itself. And you say the woven spell worked?”

“We got in and out of the fortress through Necorious’s spells.” Phichorian answered.

Dean Shellwood tapped the table with a wand, sending little sparks out from the end. “And I don’t see a problem with the joining of the spells. A pity really. It’s an ingenious idea, a way to be certain the sweater goes to the person best suited to its powers. I wish it had worked, or I knew how to fix it. Oh well. Charles, you might as well take this back.” She pushed the sweater across the table to him.

Charles picked up the sweater and put it on. At least it was keeping him warm.

Princess Melissina spoke up. “What do we do now?”

Dean Shellwood shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know where the spells went wrong so I don’t know how to correct them. If you had brought someone more...”

“Heroic?” Charles offered.

“Older. Someone older,” Dean Shellwood said. “If it had gone to someone older, I would have said it worked and we didn’t understand what it found.” She started tapping her wand again. “Don’t look so incredulous, Amertious.”

Charles stared hard at the table, hoping to hide his smile. Dean Shellwood hadn’t even looked up and that had thrown Sir Amertious.

Dean Shellwood went on, “If it had brought us, say a scholar, then I would have said we needed to research more. But I can’t make anything of this.”

Dean Shellwood’s wand had been sparking more wildly as Dean Shellwood tapped it more vigorously, until one of the sparks flew a little farther than the others and set a stack of essays smoldering. Phichorian hit the tiny flames and put them out.

Dean Shellwood looked up. “Thank you, Phichorian. All I can suggest is for Bobble to start over. When there is a less immediate need, I hope you will come back and we can consider your modifications in more detail.”

Bobble pulled off his little hat and began wringing it between his hands. “If you’re certain... A great honor... Of course I would be honored...”

“Then it is settled. Now, would you like me to arrange rooms for the night or will you start back tonight?”

Charles stayed quiet. He wanted to go back so he could be sent home, but he didn’t want to be the one who said it.

It was Princess Melissina who finally decided. “I would like to go home and speak to Father as soon as possible.”

“Very well.” Sir Amertious did not sound pleased.

Dean Shellwood nodded. “I will have your wagon brought to the courtyard in half-an -hour. Will that give you enough time to collect your things?”

Phichorian and Princess Melissina both nodded.

“Then I will come down to bid you farewell. Bobble, if you would wait a moment, I’d like to speak with you.”

* * *

Phichorian led Charles back to their room. Charles repacked Phichorian’s bag while Phichorian shut down the firepot. As Charles folded Phichorian’s cloak, he asked, “Sir Amertious seems kind of...” He struggled to find a word that described the knight without being too rude himself. He liked Phichorian and didn’t want to alienate him if he was friendly with the knight.

Phichorian waited for him to finish the thought, then went on as if he had. “He is in charge of the King’s Guard and that makes him...” Phichorian seemed to be having the same problem. He grinned a little. “He takes his responsibility very seriously, and he’s devoted to his order.”

“Order?”

“The Order of Rooksguard. It’s a great honor to be given it for service to the crown. It’s honorary for most recipients, but for a knight, it is a real order with real codes and it is an even higher honor to be the recipient of it. All members of the King’s Guard have it, and knights like to follow codes. Especially knights like Sir Amertious.”

So Phichorian didn’t care for Sir Amertious either. “So how did he end up engaged to the princess?”

Phichorian stared at the ground, forming his answer. “Royal marriages aren’t about the people involved. In a way the whole country is marrying the person. And Princess Melissina takes her role as the heir very seriously. Her father kept the land peaceful and prosperous by being a good king and having a reputation as a fierce warrior from his youth. Princess Melissina is no fighter, so she has chosen a husband who is.” He shrugged. “Very proper and logical.”

“But you don’t approve.”

“It’s not my place to approve or not. It really isn’t my business.” He looked up and forced a smile. “We should finish off the rest of those sandwiches before we leave. Destroy the evidence.”

Charles could tell Phichorian wanted to change the subject. He grabbed one of the sandwiches and started to eat. They finished off the sandwiches in silence while Phichorian waited for the firepot to cool down so he could re-hide it behind the bed before they left.

* * *

In the courtyard, the wagon was waiting for them, the horses being held by a groom. Princess Melissina's and Sir Amertious’s horses were also ready, Sir Amertious’s being held by one groom, Princess Melissina's by six. Phichorian and Charles climbed into their wagon and were ready to go when Princess Melissina came down. She managed to get on her horse in spite of all the help.

Dean Shellwood came out with Bobble and they remained deep in conversation until Sir Amertious arrived. He looked around, realized he was the last, and went to his horse without a word. Bobble flitted up to the wagon and perched on the back of the seat by Charles’s shoulder.

Princess Melissina didn’t comment on Sir Amertious’s lateness either. She turned to Dean Shellwood.

“Thank you for your help.”

“I wish I could have been more help, Your Highness. You are always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” Princess Melissina turned to Sir Amertious. “Shall we go?”

As they rode out of the gates and back the way they had come, Charles watched the university shrink into the distance. This time he was really going home.

Chapter 7

As the wagon rolled over the final hill before the castle, Princess Melissina reigned in and looked at the horizon.

“Something wrong?” Phichorian asked.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It just doesn’t look right.”

Sir Amertious realized they had stopped and turned back. “Is there a problem?”

“Of course not,” Princess Melissina said. “I was just looking.”

Sir Amertious snorted and spurred his horse forward. Melissina nudged her horse along.

“Giddup,” Phichorian said to their horse. Then he turned to Charles. “Keep your eyes open.”

“What am I looking for?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is making the princess nervous.” Phichorian turned back to the horses. “Don’t worry if you don’t see it. Princess Melissina didn’t.”

Charles tried to study the landscape. It was like a memory puzzle- look at a picture for a minute then remember what you saw, made harder by the twilight shadows obscuring everything. And then it hit him, “No smoke.”

“What?” Phichorian asked.

“No smoke from the chimneys. That’s different.”

Phichorian looked around. “It is. I wonder why everyone left.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It depends on why they left.”

“Is there a good reason?”

“If you mean not scary, I’m working on it.”

* * *

Charles didn’t ask any more questions as they rode, and he didn’t see any sign of cooking fires as they got closer to the castle. He decided he preferred not knowing what that meant.

As the town walls came into view, Princess Melissina reigned in again. Phichorian stopped beside her. “What is it?”

“Look at the walls. No guards.”

Phichorian stared at the walls, then handed Charles the reins. “Hold these. Princess, stay with him. I’ll go ahead and see what’s going on.”

“But if there’s danger...”

“What danger?” Phichorian climbed out of the wagon and grabbed his mandolin. “I'm just a minstrel in search of a place to play. There’s nothing suspicious in that.” Phichorian looked up at Charles. “Just hold them. Princess Melissina will help you if they get restless, but they won’t. I’ll be back soon.”

“Wait!” Bobble darted out of the wagon. “I’m coming with you. It’s my fault we went. And you might need someone small.”

“And a minstrel with a sprite will attract attention.”

“Not if I’m under your hat.”

Phichorian lifted his hat. “Then come on.”

Princess Melissina pulled her horse closer to the wagon and watched Phichorian as he walked away. Charles wanted to ask what she thought was wrong, but he could tell from her expression that she was afraid. He was probably better off not knowing.

Sir Amertious rode back to them. “Phichorian is very cautious.”

Princess Melissina didn’t look away from the walls. “I sent him.”

That shut Sir Amertious up.

It took a long time, but eventually Phichorian came back. “Bobble’s coming. It’s not good.”

Princess Melissina went white. “Father?”

“That’s why Bobble stayed. He’s going to try and get in.”

“What happened?” Sir Amertious asked.

“Necorious came. He’s taken the castle.”

“No,” Princess Melissina whispered.

“I could see his army in the town. It doesn’t look like he’s ready to attack anywhere else yet.”

“He doesn’t have to hurry,” Princess Melissina murmured. “They’ll all be too disheartened to fight back.”

Phichorian nodded. “Bobble snuck in. He’s going to try to get to the castle. We can see what news he brings back before we get too worried.”

Princess Melissina nodded, but did not look any less worried.

Phichorian grabbed Princess Melissina's reins. “No matter what, we’ll need to be less obvious.”

“Good point.” Princess Melissina swung down, looking a little less desperate. “The horses are all right if we take off the crests on the bridles, but the wagon needs something. Sir Amertious, take care of the bridles, and remove your surcoat. The guard crest is just as obvious.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Sir Amertious pulled the purple-and-gold surcoat over his head and threw it in the back of the wagon. Charles could tell he was only doing it because he didn’t want to argue with a direct order from the princess.

“Now for the wagon.” Princess Melissina ran her hand over the painted crest. “Any ideas?”

“The minstrel ploy worked well. Maybe we could make it an entertainer’s cart.”

Sir Amertious glared at Phichorian for that suggestion.

“Good,” Princess Melissina said.

Sir Amertious turned back to the horse’s tack, still glaring.

Princess Melissina ignored his reaction. “How do we do that?”

Phichorian went to the back of the wagon and looked inside. Charles tried to help by looking in the back of the wagon from his seat, but he was too preoccupied to notice anything.

“Paint would be best,” Phichorian said as he poked around, “but we don’t have any. How about the tent?” He climbed in back and pulled out a brightly colored tent. “Perfect. Charles, grab the tool kit from under the seat.”

Charles felt around under the seat until his hand brushed a leather sack. He pulled it out and lugged it onto the seat next to him.

Phichorian unknotted the rope holding sack closed and pulled out a hammer. “There should be some nails at the bottom. See if you can find them.”

Charles reached into the sack and felt around, barely noticing when a nail pricked his knuckles.

Phichorian climbed down and went to the back, unfolding the tent as he went. While Phichorian stretched out the tent, arranging it beside the wagon, Charles found eight nails and stuck them in his pocket.

“Here Charles.” Phichorian handed him a corner of the tent. “When I tell you, drag that over the top. I’ll do the same in back, then hand it to Princess Melissina.”

“Stop calling me ‘princess’ unless you want us to get caught. And hand me that cloak.”

“All right, Melissina.” Phichorian handed Melissina his multicolored cloak which was draped over the back of the seat and went around to the back of the wagon. “All right.”

Charles slowly lifted the tent, watching Phichorian lift his end, then jump into the wagon, passing it over the top. “OK, Charles, hand it to Melissina.”

Melissina grabbed the tent as Charles pulled it over the wagon. Phichorian jumped down as the fabric got lower.

“OK, time for the nails.” Phichorian held out his hand and Charles gave him what he’d found so far, then stuck his hand back in the bag and felt around for more.

* * *

By the time Bobble was flitting over the hill, Phichorian and Charles had stretched the tent over the wagon and nailed it underneath. It completely covered the crest, even if it did look a little odd. Phichorian seemed to think that was a good thing for a band of traveling players.

Melissina was the first to see Bobble. She was tapping her foot as he flitted closer. “Well?”

Bobble sighed. “He’s there, in the dungeon.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Even Charles understood that this was very bad, but he couldn’t work up the energy to say anything.

It was Phichorian who broke the silence. “What is the next step?”

Melissina and Sir Amertious continued to stare into space. Phichorian left them to their thoughts as he put the tools away then motioned for Charles to get back into the wagon. Phichorian reached under the seat and pulled out their armor. “I’ll help you put yours back on.”

Once they were re-armed and settled, Phichorian spoke again. “Melissina, whatever your orders are, I’m willing to follow them, but I need to know what it is I’m following.”

Melissina looked at him, her eyes still distant. “Orders?”

Phichorian nodded.

Melissina straightened up. “Yes, orders. We should go back to Kirjavale. They have always been our friends, they will help us now.” She pulled the hood of the cloak over her hair and adjusted it to hide her face.

“Very good.” Phichorian flicked the reins and began to turn the wagon. “You coming, Amertious?”

Sir Amertious didn’t seem to notice that Phichorian had stopped using his title as well as he turned his horse and brought up the rear.

As the wagon rolled along, Charles drummed up the energy to say, “This means I can’t go back, doesn’t it?”

Phichorian didn’t turn away from the horses. “If anyone can find a way to do it, Dean Shellwood will.”

Charles believed him.

* * *

It was fully dark when the small party arrived at the gates of the university. There was a different guard at the gate. He did not respond to Amertious’s call, but came to the wall and held a torch out so he could see the newcomers.

“The town is an hour farther on. No work for you here.”

“We’re here to see the dean,” Amertious yelled, fully expecting to be obeyed as he was in full armor with his purple-and-gold guard uniform at the head of a company of knights.

“The entertainment for the spring pageant has already been arranged.” The guard turned to go back in.

Bobble flitted up to the guard tower. That caught the guard by surprise.

“Please,” Bobble said when he was certain he had the guard’s full attention. “Dean Shellwood will see us, if you would be so kind as to tell her we are here.”

The guard hesitated.

Bobble went on. “I do not ask lightly. Please, just tell her Melissina has returned.”

“Fine. I will have you, only you, brought to the dean to present your case. If she agrees, your companions will be allowed in.”

Bobble inclined his head. “Thank you.”

Charles watched as Bobble disappeared into the campus.

Amertious pulled his horse to the gate, as if he were still expecting the gates to open for him.

Melissina brought her horse to the front of the wagon so she was even with Phichorian and Charles, but she didn’t speak.

Charles realized that she couldn’t go home either. He leaned over and said the only thing he knew could make her feel better. “If anyone can solve this, Dean Shellwood will.”

Melissina smiled a little. “And what if no one can?”

That was the thought Charles was avoiding. “Then I’m stuck here.” He looked over at her. “No offense, but...”

“But it isn’t your home.” Melissina sighed. “We’ll just have to hope and trust Dean Shellwood.”

Charles didn’t have to answer. Bobble came flitting out through the iron grate of the window as the door creaked open.

“She’ll see us, of course.”

Amertious spurred his horse through as soon as there was room.

“Thanks, Bobble,” Melissina whispered before following Amertious through.

Bobble settled on the seat back between Charles and Phichorian as Phichorian guided the wagon inside. There were grooms waiting to take the reins. They gave the cloth covered wagon several funny looks. Phichorian ignored them as he handed over the reins and swung down. Charles followed, trying to ignore the stares. Bobble followed them both, his head down.

* * *

Dean Shellwood was waiting for them in the rotunda of the main building, wearing a wool dressing gown and a lace cap over her hair. She went straight to Melissina and put her arm around the princess.

“Bobble told me. I’m so sorry my dear.”

“Thank you.”

“What can we do?” Amertious asked, one hand on his sword.

Dean Shellwood looked up but did not let go of Melissina. “You’ve traveled to the capitol and back twice today, so first I am having rooms in the North dormitory prepared for you to spend the night.”

“And tomorrow?” Melissina asked.

“I have some ideas, but I need to research a bit more.”

Melissina nodded.

“And if they don’t work?” Amertious asked.

Dean Shellwood looked hard at him. “One of them will, if you are steadfast enough to face it. Yes, Camille?”

“The rooms are ready, Dean.”

“Very good. Show Charles and Phichorian to forty-two and Sir Amertious to forty-four. I will take care of Her Highness.”

“Very good.” The student turned and left the room.

Phichorian put a hand on Charles’s shoulder and steered him towards the door. No one turned to see if Amertious was following them.

Chapter 8

Camille led them across the courtyard to a square building just behind the main hall.

“I only have one key for forty-two,” Camille said as she led them up the stairs.

“It’ll do,” Phichorian assured her.

“There are two beds though. Here we are. Breakfast is at seven. Just follow the crowd.”

The room was small and similar to the one they'd been in before, with two narrow beds, two small trunks, two small desks with three shelves above each, and nothing else.

“Which do you want?” Phichorian asked.

Charles shrugged.

Phichorian dropped his instruments on the far bed and sat on the chest by the desk across from it. Charles sat on the other bed.

“Do you really think she can do something?”

“Dean Shellwood? Honestly, I wasn’t sure until she said there was definitely one way.”

“If we’re steadfast enough.”

“Yes, she doesn’t seem too fond of it, but she wouldn’t have said anything about it if she didn’t think it was possible.” Phichorian leaned over. “She’ll let you stay here when they go. You and me, and Bobble I’d imagine. And Melissina, but she’ll insist on going with Amertious.”

Charles felt better and worse at the same time.

Phichorian smiled. “Not very flattering being left behind. I should know; I always am, but it’s safer than the alternative.”

“But I should help. I mean, I'm the reason...”

“First, you did help, you got Amertious in to rescue Melissina, then you found her...”

“You...”

“OK, we found her. And if she hadn’t come here to find out about your sweater, she’d have been captured too, and that would be worse.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“With her out here, we can rally the people. If both the king and his heir were prisoners, there would be no hope. Who would take over if we won?”

“OK, I’ll believe you.”

“Good, I’m flattered. Rest a bit and I’ll wake you when Dean Shellwood is ready for us.”

Charles was getting tired of being told to go to bed, but he yawned as he stretched out and was asleep before he could finish the thought.

* * *

Charles woke up to the smell of something good. He sat up and saw Phichorian sitting at the far desk. “I brought you a plate too. They haven’t improved the security of the kitchen since I was here.”

“Thanks.” Charles got out of bed and sat at the other desk. The good smell had been fried cheese, chicken, and fresh bread. Phichorian had found another firepot and was using it to keep the food warm.

Phichorian waited until Charles had eaten half of his food before he said, “There’s nothing new from the dean.”

Charles nodded.

“But she wants to meet with us at midnight.”

Charles looked up. “Did it sound hopeful?”

Phichorian tried to smile and failed. “There’s always the dangerous plan.”

“You think that’s it?”

“Frankly yes, but it’s an option. Go on, eat up. I have some strawberries and cream here that are just as good now as they were a minute ago, but they won’t be if you wait too long.”

Charles didn’t feel like eating. He didn’t feel like doing anything but going home. And Phichorian knew that. Charles could tell by the way he held the plate of strawberries out, waiting for him to take it. Charles did. Not eating wouldn’t help anything.

While Charles ate, Phichorian tuned his harp, meaning Charles didn’t have to talk. He was glad of that; he had nothing he wanted to say, and making things up seemed like too much effort.

Phichorian continued to fiddle with his instruments after Charles had finished eating. Charles kept himself busy by making and then straightening his bed with more care than he’d ever bothered with at home. They sat in comfortable silence until there was a knock on the door and Camille came to tell them Dean Shellwood wanted to see them.

* * *

Phichorian led Charles back through silent hallways and across the star-lit green to the main building and Dean Shellwood’s office. Charles kept seeing strange shadows in the classrooms and supply cupboards that had seemed so familiar during the day. He was not about to ask Phichorian if there were any ghost stories about the place, not so much because he was worried that Phichorian would think he was crazy, but because he was worried Phichorian would know all of them and Charles wouldn’t be able to sleep the entire time they stayed there.

At least the main building was still lit by lamps every few feet. They saw Amertious in the rotunda, but he did not slow down for them. Phichorian sped up a bit so that they were entering the dean’s office just as Amertious was sitting down. Melissina and Bobble were already there, sitting across from Dean Shellwood. It looked like they had been speaking to each other and stopped as soon as the others arrived. Dean Shellwood waited for them to be seated.

“Normally I would wait until you’d slept the night before we discussed this, but I have the feeling that none of you will rest until we do.”

A quick glance around the room told Charles that he was not the only one this applied to.

“I mentioned that there was at least one possibility. I think we will have to consider it. The unfortunate thing is that I have very little information on Necorious and his troops.”

“Then how do we get more?” Amertious asked.

“You will have to find someone with greater knowledge than I have. The Hermit of Ironvale has knowledge of most things. I would suggest you speak with him.”

“Most things?” Amertious asked. “How do you know he will know about this?”

Dean Shellwood did not look at Amertious but gave her answer to Melissina. “He was acquainted with Necorious, perhaps the last person to know him before this mania for reclaiming the throne overtook him. If anyone outside of Necorious’s inner circle knows the extent and weakness of his powers, then it will be the hermit.”

Amertious looked unconvinced. “If even the sprites knew how to defeat his warding spells...”

Bobble interrupted him, “That knowledge came from King Regulous.”

Dean Shellwood nodded. “I am not surprised. Regulous has studied Necorious’s work closely.”

Melissina spoke up, “You think this hermit would know Necorious as well as Father does?”

“In general, no, but I do think he knows more about the period after your father lost track of Necorious than anyone I would send you to. And that is the period you should be interested in.”

Melissina nodded. “Then we will go to the Hermit of Ironvale and ask for his help.” It was the first time Charles had heard Melissina give a real order before. He felt like he should salute, or at least stand up.

Amertious did stand up, but it was not a sign of respect. “Melissina, you must be...”

Phichorian stood, cutting Amertious off before he could tell Melissina what she needed to be, “I will follow you as always, Princess.” He pressed his left hand to his right shoulder and bowed.

Melissina inclined her head. “I thank you.”

Charles wondered if he should do the same. If Phichorian was going to go along, he was too. As nice as Dean Shellwood seemed, Charles did not want to be alone in this world, even someplace that seemed as safe and normal as the university. He shifted his weight forward, ready to stand, but Phichorian pressed his hand on Charles’s shoulder. Charles took that to mean he should stay seated.

Melissina was staring at Amertious. Amertious gave in with bad grace. He slapped his hand to his shoulder and bowed stiffly. “I will do as I am ordered.”

“Then it is agreed.”

Dean Shellwood came around from behind her desk. “I think it is wise. I will speak to the stables and have your horses and wagon ready and stocked with provisions in the morning. I have a map that will show how to get to his cottage.”

Charles could tell that Melissina wanted to leave at once, and that she saw the sense of waiting. “Thank you.”

Phichorian took his hand off of Charles’s shoulder. “If you don’t need us anymore, Charles and I can find our own way back to our room.”

“Very well.” Melissina did not look at them.

Phichorian steered Charles towards the door. On the way, Charles got a glimpse of Amertious. He was standing very stiff, clenching and unclenching his fist. Charles hurried out of the room.

Safely in the hall, he murmured, “I guess they want to talk.”

“Melissina and Amertious?” Phichorian grinned. “I hope Bobble gets out of there before they start.” He glanced at Charles. “Was there something else?”

“Is this hermit dangerous?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Then why was Dean Shellwood so nervous?”

“I was wondering the same thing myself. Why do you ask?”

“Just, well, I got the impression you’re going, so I thought...”

“You’d rather go with people you’ve known for a couple of days than be left here with complete strangers?”

“Unless, well, I don’t know how to fight.”

“I don’t know of any reason why it wouldn’t be safe. If you want to come, I’d be glad of the company. Now, should we see if there’s anything left to eat?”

* * *

Whatever the argument had been, if there had been one, it seemed to have been forgotten by the time Charles and Phichorian met Melissina and Amertious in the courtyard the next morning. They seemed friendly and Amertious did not question their route or Melissina's choice of mount.

It seemed that Bobble had spent the rest of the night in discussion with Dean Shellwood. He arrived with her, flitted into the back of the wagon, and promptly fell asleep on top of a stack of blankets.

Dean Shellwood hugged Melissina then waited for her to mount up. “Good luck. You are always welcome here. In fact, I think it would be best for you to return here after you speak to him, no matter what he says. I have resources and I can help you prepare to use what he tells you.”

“Then we will return and tell you what he’s said,” Melissina answered.

“Promise me you will all return.”

Melissina looked surprised, but said, “Certainly, my word on it.”

Dean Shellwood looked at each of them in turn. Phichorian nodded at once, so Charles did as well. Amertious looked annoyed, but when Dean Shellwood refused to turn away, he muttered, “Whatever.”

“And I’ll trust that Bobble will agree. Then I’ll wish you a safe journey and look forward to your return.”

Melissina turned her horse to the gate and started the bustle of getting underway.

Once they were on the road, Charles leaned to Phichorian and asked, “Did you get the feeling Dean Shellwood knows what this hermit is going to tell us?”

“Suspects, I think, or she’d have told us herself. But I do think she suspects a lot more than she let on. At least while we were there. Who knows what she told Melissina. Although not everything I think.” Phichorian shrugged. “We can ask Bobble when he wakes up, but I doubt he knows much more.”

* * *

Bobble woke up in time for lunch, but his conversation with Dean Shellwood had mainly centered around the sweater. Phichorian spent the afternoon telling them old stories he’d learned at the university. Charles enjoyed it since it kept his mind off of his worries. In the front of his mind was the fact that he had never gone camping before.

At dusk they set up camp near a stream. Amertious took the horses aside and got them ready for the night. Phichorian climbed into the back of the wagon, took out the tents and began to pitch them. Charles stood, feeling useless, until Phichorian climbed back into the wagon. He put two buckets on the seat. “Would you fill those?”

“Sure thing.” Charles grabbed the buckets and took them to the stream. When they were full, he had to carry them back one at a time since there was no way he could lift them both at once. By the time he had done that, Phichorian had pitched the two remaining tents. “Put the buckets by the larger tent then we’ll go get some firewood.”

Charles put the buckets by the larger tent, which was gray waterproof canvas. The smaller tent was made of brown leather with silk trim.

“We’ll share the larger tent with Bobble,” Phichorian said as he showed Charles what was good firewood, “if that’s OK with you. Then Amertious can take the smaller and Melissina can have the wagon to herself.”

Charles was relieved that he wouldn’t have to share with Amertious. When they had stacked the wood by the wagon, Phichorian went about starting a fire. Since no one seemed to need him, Charles wandered away from the camp, making sure he could still see the bright fabric of the tent covering the wagon’s crest through the trees. When he was far enough that he couldn't be seen from the camp, he drew the knife Amertious had given him and looked at it. It was simple, with a worn leather hilt and a blade that had been carefully polished.

Charles gripped the hilt and held it out in front of himself. It didn’t feel quite right. Charles shifted his grip and tried swinging it again. Still awkward.

“There you are,” grumbled Amertious. “You had the princess worried.”

Charles lowered the knife. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just...” Of all the people to stumble on him, it had to be Amertious, the one person he didn’t want seeing him playing at being a knight.

Back at the camp, Melissina had climbed back into the wagon and was handing food down to Phichorian. Amertious left Charles by the wagon and took his weapons to his tent.

Charles stayed by the wagon, trying to stack the wood neatly. He’d made a nice pile when Amertious called, “Boy!”

Charles didn’t answer. He’d take any excuse to ignore Amertious.

“Charles.”

That surprised Charles enough to make him look up.

“Come here.”

It was an order, but it was a polite order. Charles chose to follow it.

Amertious pulled out a small sword. “If you want to be part of the fight, you have to know how to fight. This looks about your size.” He held the sword out to Charles.

Charles took it. The hilt was simple, wrapped in leather. The guard had a small pattern etched into it, nothing fancy, just a series of wavy lines. He ran his thumb along the etching. The blade was shiny and sharp. Charles resisted the urge to run a finger along that too; he was fond of all his fingers and didn’t want to lose one on the forest floor.

“You’re holding that wrong.”

Charles fumbled with the sword.

Amertious took the sword from Charles and gripped it. “Like this. See where my fingers are? Try it.”

Amertious held out the sword again and Charles took it, trying to copy Amertious’s hold.

Amertious leaned over and moved Charles’s fingers a bit. “All right, now for the rest of you.” He pushed Charles’s shoulder. “Stand up straight, spread your legs like this. Good. Is your weight balanced?” He gave Charles a shove. “Not bad. We need more room. Follow me.” Amertious led Charles a little ways away from the camp, where they could move without hitting anything. “Stand like you were. I’m going to show you a simple parry, more of a block really, but if someone’s coming at you, it will buy you some time.”

Amertious showed Charles the parry, then made him practice it over and over again, until he was satisfied Charles had the movement down.

“Now do it slowly.”

Charles obeyed and almost dropped the sword as Amertious swung his own sword at him. Amertious checked his swing at the height. “Look at my shoulder. Try to guess where I’m going to hit you and catch it. Try to use the blade to stop me, but the guard will do too. Now, how will you move?”

Charles stared at Amertious, trying to visualize where Amertious’s arm would move, and moved to block.

“Don’t block my arm, block the blade.”

Charles moved a little.

“All right.” Amertious finished his swing slowly, hitting Charles’s sword. “Again.”

Amertious swung his blade again, at a different angle, but just as slowly, giving Charles time to plan his move.

“Almost lost a leg there,” Amertious said as he whacked Charles in the shin with the flat of his blade. “Time to go back. We don’t want them to wait dinner on us.”

As they started back to the camp, Charles held the sword out to Amertious.

“Keep it for now. Who knows what we’ll encounter.”

“Thanks.” Charles was torn between fear of what he’d have to defend himself against and the feeling that it was just too cool to be carrying around a real sword.

Chapter 9

They reached the hermit’s hut late the next morning. Charles knew something was wrong as soon as the small hut came into view, just by watching Melissina's reaction. There was no smoke from the chimney; he’d been looking for that after the last trip, but he wasn’t sure if there was supposed to be smoke. Melissina seemed to sense the trouble in the air. She threw the reins of her horse in the general direction of Amertious, jumped down, and ran to the door. Phichorian caught the reins. He didn’t give Amertious time to decide if he was annoyed or not, just nodded towards Melissina. “Go after her until we know what’s in there.”

Amertious opened his mouth to argue, but he quickly changed his mind and tossed Phichorian his reins too. Phichorian brought the wagon to the hitching post and jumped down to tie everything up. Charles climbed down slowly. He didn’t think he’d be much help with the horses and he didn’t want to know what was in the small, dark hut.

Phichorian came around the wagon and rested a hand on Charles’s shoulder. “Come on.” Charles realized Phichorian didn’t want to see inside the hut anymore than he did.

It could have been worse. The house was empty, which was definitely not good. There had been a fight, that was clear from the overturned furniture and smashed remains of dinner.

Amertious immediately began pacing the room. He knelt by the table and looked at the remains of the crockery. “These are the marks of rebel boots.” He stayed low to the ground and looked around. “He was sitting at dinner when they came.”

Still kneeling, Amertious made his way along the floor. “He fought back here, but it didn’t help him.”

Phichorian stayed by the wall. Charles stayed close to him and out of Amertious’s way.

Amertious finally straightened. “There is nothing more to be learned in here. I’m going to try outside.” He did not wait for Melissina's approval but went straight out the door.

Melissina picked up the nearest chair and put it right, then sat on it, staring at the wall. Phichorian waited silently for a few moments. When she didn't speak, he went to the center of the room and began straightening the table and picking up the broken crockery, putting the pieces into the most intact bowl.

“Do you think he’s alive?” Melissina asked without turning from the wall.

“Amertious seems to think so,” Phichorian answered. “And I don’t think there’s enough blood for him to have been killed here.”

“Unless they took him away and killed him"

“It’s possible.” Phichorian arranged the bowl in the center of the table. “But it is also possible they want information from him, or to hold him for ransom. They may want the very information we’re trying to get.”

That seemed to perk Melissina up. She stood and went to the door. “Maybe Amertious is ready for us.”

Outside, Amertious was crouched low to the ground, studying the path. He noticed them almost at once. “They went this way, towards the fortress of West Mountain.”

Phichorian turned to Melissina. “Do we follow?”

Melissina looked at Amertious. “Could we follow the trail now?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“And if we go back for help?”

“The longer we wait the less chance we have.”

Melissina nodded. “Then we’ll follow.”

Amertious tied his horse to the back of the wagon and went ahead on foot, hunched over most of the time, scanning the ground. Every so often he would drop to his knees and study something, then spring back up and go on.

Melissina rode her horse beside the wagon. They traveled slowly, stopping frequently so Amertious would be able to stay ahead of them and be able to see the trail without the marks of their horses and wagon confusing him.

* * *

Amertious led them through the countryside to a valley with a small fort at the center. As soon as Amertious spotted it, he ran back to them. “It’s a good thing we’re a small party. Otherwise we would have been spotted coming over the rise. There are at least six guard towers.”

“Then how do we get in?” Melissina asked.

Amertious paced around the wagon. “I’ll think of something.”

While Amertious paced and Melissina, Charles, and Phichorian watched, Bobble solved the problem.

“No one ever notices me. I could fly down and get a better look.”

Amertious looked unconvinced, but Melissina spoke before he could. “That’s a good idea, but be careful.”

Bobble flitted down the hill, leaving Amertious pacing and the rest of them waiting as best they could.

It didn’t take Bobble long to get back. He flitted up the hill, ignored Amertious, and went straight to Melissina. “Your Highness, we were not spotted because there was no one to spot us.”

“What? There’s no one in the towers?”

“No one, Your Highness.”

“Is the fort deserted?”

“I do not believe so, Your Highness. I can see horses and signs that the captors came through recently.”

“Then where are they?”

“You're certain no one is there?” Amertious asked.

Bobble nodded. “No one in the towers. I did not go further inside.”

“Then I will go down and finish the job. If all is well, I will signal for you to follow on foot. Hide the wagon and tether the horses.”

Phichorian drove the wagon part way up the side of the hill and parked it behind a clump of bushes just off the road. Melissina tied the horses nearby. By the time they had walked back to the clearing, Amertious could be seen waving at them.

They made their way down the hill. Amertious waited until they were close enough for him to speak in a normal voice before he told them, “There are no guards on duty but clearly they are here.”

“I wonder where they are,” Phichorian murmured.

“And how many.” Charles felt a chill as he imagined hoards waiting for them inside.

Amertious answered Charles’s question. “A fort this size can’t hold more than thirty men comfortably. It’s not meant to be a garrison, just a prison.”

Thirty was better than he’d imagined, but still not very comforting.

“So where will we find these thirty guards?” Melissina asked.

Amertious had ignored Phichorian’s question, but he considered Melissina's version of it. “I will continue to scout ahead. They must be inside.”

Bobble flitted over. “Perhaps it would be safer for me to scout. I am smaller and easier to miss.”

Amertious didn’t look pleased, but Melissina nodded. “That’s logical.”

Bobble flitted away before Amertious could speak. He was back in a few moments. “I found the way in.”

* * *

Bobble had found a small wooden door. It looked so flimsy, it wasn’t until Amertious, Melissina and Phichorian grabbed onto his sweater that Charles remembered the magic and then couldn’t understand how he forgot it. Squeezing Charles’s arm, Amertious turned the doorknob and led them into the courtyard.

Once they were through, Bobble flitted ahead and into the fortress. The courtyard was narrow, too small for any kind of practice ground. Charles was proud of himself for noticing these kinds of distinctions. It was designed to impress on the prisoner that there was no hope. The walls towered above them, rough black stone only broken by the steps to the watch towers, all fully exposed so any guard standing on the walls could shoot down an escaping prisoner with a crossbow. The door Bobble had flitted through was just an opening, but Charles could see a portcullis raised above it. Amertious followed his gaze. “They’re confident in their door.”

“Of course,” Phichorian answered. “Necorious always did underestimate the power sprite magic has, just because it doesn’t destroy things. He would never imagine they could come up with a way to break his spell, and without him knowing about it. I can’t think of another kind of magic that could, not without going back to the ancients. That’s why Bobble’s sweater is so valuable.”

Bobble flitted back at that moment and Charles hoped he had heard Phichorian.

“The next two rooms are clear.”

Amertious led the way in.

The first room was small, just an entryway. The second was larger, with racks along one wall for swords and spears.

“Where would you like me to check next?” Bobble asked.

Amertious paced around the room. “If they’re on this floor they’ll have heard us by now.” He nodded to a dark staircase. “Down first, then up.”

Bobble saluted and flitted down the stairs. Charles watched until the sprite was swallowed by the darkness, which took about six seconds. Amertious went to the other door and looked around the edge. He motioned for them to follow.

They found themselves in another large room, this one with several long wooden tables. The dining room, or maybe they called it the mess, or the refectory like they did at the university. Amertious started looking under all the tables and opening a cupboard that was filled with plates. Charles turned to Phichorian. Phichorian shrugged and started looking under tables himself. Charles joined in, even though he had no idea what he was looking for. Hopefully it would be so obvious he’d know it when he saw it.

Charles never did find out what they were searching for; as he looked under the fifth table, Bobble flitted by, just past his face. Charles straightened up. He saw Bobble dart under Phichorian’s table, then dart over to Amertious. Bobble hovered behind Amertious, glancing over his shoulder until he saw the rest of them edging forward.

Melissina smiled at Bobble and nodded.

Bobble straightened and spoke, “My lord...”

Amertious turned. “Did you find anything?” He sounded dismissive, like he couldn’t imagine Bobble would have found anything important.

But Bobble was not acting like someone with nothing important to say, wringing his hands and bouncing on his toes, even though he was still hovering in the air. “I know where the guards are,” he whispered.

“Where?” Amertious looked ready to run at them.

Bobble pointed to the stairs. “There are at least twenty down there; I could see them from the prison stairwell.”

Amertious drummed his fingers on the table. “At least twenty? So there could be more.” He swept across the dining room and back into the main room.

Melissina and Phichorian followed Amertious. Charles fingered the hilt of the sword Amertious had given him as he followed. Practicing with it had been fun, but he certainly didn’t feel ready to take on a real enemy.

Amertious sensed when they had entered the room. “All right. We’ll use the stairwell to our advantage and funnel them through.” He made one more circuit of the room then stopped and faced them. “Someone will have to lure them up here. I don’t think more than two people can make it up at a time. If we’re very lucky, we’ll be able to pick them off in small groups as they come up the stairs. We just need to decide who’s going to go down there and bring them up.”

“I will,” Melissina said at once.

“Princess,” Amertious sounded pompous and condescending at the same time.

Charles felt like he should volunteer, but Phichorian spoke before he could form the words.

“I’m the logical choice.”

Amertious looked ready to agree at once, and Melissina opened her mouth to protest, but Phichorian went on without waiting for either of them.

“You need your best fighters up here to defend. Clearly that’s Melissina and Amertious. Between Charles and me, I would put my bet on Charles. And I’m a more credible threat. So I go down and get them up.”

“Right.” Amertious didn’t leave any room for protest. “I’ll stay closest to the door and try to keep them in the stairwell. Melissina, take up a position behind me where you can be ready if any break through. Charles, you and Phichorian will guard her.”

Charles nodded.

“What is my role?” Bobble asked.

“Keep out of trouble.”

Bobble sniffed and turned his nose up, clearly offended.

Melissina whispered, “Stay by Charles. Give him some pointers.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Bobble bowed and landed on Charles’s shoulder.

Charles felt a little better with Bobble on his shoulder.

Amertious got himself in position then nodded to Phichorian.

Phichorian disappeared down the dark passage. Charles saw Melissina draw her sword and did the same. He clutched the sword hilt until his knuckles went white, straining to hear any sound from the stairwell.

It happened all at once. There was a crashing, clashing sound, then Phichorian burst back into the room. The instant he had cleared the door, Amertious was in front of the opening, blocking it with his body, his sword flashing. He managed to hold back three soldiers, but a fourth forced his way through. Melissina's blade flashed as she parried a blow and followed with one of her own. A fifth guard climbed over his fallen comrade and came at them.

Bobble yelled instructions in Charles’s ear as he carried them out by instinct. Then Phichorian was there, sword in hand, helping to drive the soldier back,

As the soldier fell away, Phichorian’s sword through his belly, Amertious yelled, “I need room!”

Phichorian left his sword in the soldier and began dragging the ones Amertious had felled by their ankles to the center of the room. Charles tried not to think about it. Then there was another soldier and he couldn’t think of anything but keeping the flashing blade from his head. He plunged his sword in.

There was a lull and Charles was able to admire Amertious’s skill. He was clearly the best fighter in the room. Melissina was holding her own. She wasn’t in the same league as Amertious, but she was a good fighter. Phichorian was better than Charles, but he gave Charles the feeling that, with practice, he could get to the same level as Phichorian, or even a little bit better.

And then it was over. One second he was driving back a spinning sword, the next it was silent, nothing but the sound of Melissina and Phichorian panting. Charles barely noticed his blade drooping towards the ground or his arm shaking uncontrollably until Phichorian’s hand wrapped over his and helped support the blade.

“Keep breathing,” Phichorian whispered. “It will get better.”

Phichorian held the sword steady while Charles’s hand shook, and stood close behind him, ready for Charles to lean against him if his legs gave out. Charles was glad Phichorian was there, and even gladder that his legs, while they shook like jelly, did not give out.

Chapter 10

Amertious looked around the room. “Does that look like all of them?” He didn’t address the question to anyone, but Bobble and Phichorian knew it had to be answered by one of them. Phichorian nodded. Bobble answered, “Yes, that looks like all of them.”

“Good, I’ll go down first, in case you’re wrong.” Before anyone could answer, Amertious drew his sword and ran down the stairs. He had gone so quickly, it took Melissina a few seconds to draw her sword and run after him.

Phichorian turned to Charles. “Are you OK?”

Charles nodded. He was still shaking, but he didn’t feel like he’d collapse in the next few minutes.

“Good, then we’d better go after them, in case they need protection from themselves.”

Charles staggered as Phichorian let go of his sword, but he was able to stay upright and followed Phichorian to the stairs.

* * *

The prison was pretty much what Charles had expected: a stone room lit by torches with a drain in the middle covered by an iron grate. There was a ring of keys on a hook by the foot of the stairs. Twelve wooden doors split off the main room, with iron grates giving a view into the small, dark cells. Amertious was moving counter-clockwise, looking into each cell, Melissina doing the same clockwise. They met across from the stairs.

“No one?” Melissina asked.

Amertious shook his head.

Phichorian grabbed the keys from the hook and began opening the cells. Melissina went into the first and looked around, searching all of the blind spots. Bobble took the second cell. Charles caught on and took the third. It was small and dark, with a pile of straw on the floor and little else. Charles did a quick scan of the room for bugs, but he didn’t see any so he went in. He looked in all the corners and came out in the time to see Melissina going into the fifth cell.

They made their way around until they were all standing outside the last cell door.

“There’s no one here,” Amertious said.

“There has to be,” Charles said.

“Amertious is right,” Melissina said. “I don’t see anyone in any of these cells.”

“But...”

“Do you see anyone?” Amertious asked.

Charles shook his head.

Phichorian put a hand on his shoulder. “What makes you so certain?”

Charles felt like an idiot as he said, “It’s just that, in the game, when all the minions crowd around one spot, there’s something there.”

Amertious snorted, but Phichorian nodded. “To guard it. It makes sense.” He stepped back to the center of the dungeon and looked around.

“Anything different?” Amertious almost sneered as he asked.

Phichorian paced back and forth, the grate rattling under his feet as he passed over it. “Think, think,” he muttered. “Hidden room?”

“I doubt it,” Melissina said. “There’s solid rock just outside.”

“OK, what else?” Phichorian stood very still and held his hands out. “Do you feel any magic, Melissina? A concealment spell maybe?”

Melissina stood still and closed her eyes. “No, nothing like that.”

“Neither do I. How about a secret passage?”

Melissina shook her head. “Where would the entrance be? In a cell?”

Phichorian stopped above the grate and stared down at it. “It couldn’t be.” He dropped to his knees and pulled on the grate. It lifted away easily. “Bring the light.”

Melissina brought the torch from the wall over and knelt by Phichorian, leaving plenty of room for Charles to lean over too. There was a chain attached to a large ring dangling down into a deep shaft, held taught by an unseen weight.

“Bobble?” Melissina asked.

“Of course.” The sprite grabbed a splinter of wood, lit it from the torch and flitted into the dark shaft. They watched the tiny point of light until it was swallowed up in the darkness.

“He’s here!” Bobble’s small voice echoed up the shaft.

Phichorian clapped Charles on the back.

“How do we get him out?” Melissina called down.

“His arms are attached to the chain. I think you can pull him up.”

Amertious grabbed a handful of chain.

“What about his feet?” Phichorian called. “Are they attached to anything?”

“Why does that matter?” Amertious asked, ready to pull at once.

Phichorian stuck the point of his sword into a link of the chain, where it acted like a brake. “I want to be certain they’re not attached to anything before I start tugging on things.”

Bobble called up, “There’s a chain bolted to the floor but I think I can unhook it.”

“Gruesome,” Charles murmured as he imagined the result.

“I suppose I do have a gruesome turn of mind. Comes of telling tales about villains I suppose.”

“His feet are free,” Bobble called. “He says to pull whenever you’re ready.”

Phichorian dropped his sword and grabbed the end of the chain. Amertious leaned over the edge of the hole and grabbed a handful of chain. Between them, they pulled the chain up and out of the hole.

In a few minutes, Charles could see a pair of manacled hands. He grabbed the hands to stop them from scraping on the stone. Melissina leaned over and caught the arm just past the elbow to ease the prisoner over the edge. Charles changed his grip to help her.

“Hold,” Melissina called when the man was half out of the hole, bent at the waist. “Charles, help Phichorian.”

Charles dropped the hermit’s arm and grabbed some of the chain beside Phichorian. As soon as he had it, Amertious dropped his part of the chain and went to help Melissina. Charles had to use all his strength to hold onto the chain until Amertious got the man seated on the edge of the hole, taking his weight off of the chain and making it go slack.

Melissina offered her waterskin to the man. Charles thought he needed a lot more than water. The man was gaunt, with wispy white hair plastered to his head, dressed in tatters. He took the waterskin from her and drank deeply.

“Thank you,” he croaked.

Melissina smiled at him. “Now what do we do about the chains?”

Amertious picked up the man’s hand and looked at the manacle. Without saying anything, he pulled out his dagger. He twisted the manacle so the lock faced inward, then stuck the blade under the pin and popped it out in one quick movement.

“That answers that,” the old man grinned. His voice sounded much better.

Amertious popped the pin out of the other manacle and put the dagger away. “Ready to stand?”

The hermit handed Melissina the waterskin and nodded.

Amertious grabbed one arm, Phichorian the other, and together they helped keep the hermit steady as he stood and took a couple shaky steps back. Charles swung the chains out of the way.

The hermit turned to him. “So you’re the one I have to thank for not abandoning me. You’ll have to tell me about the game.” He smiled. “Yes, I heard everything in there. You do have a very gruesome turn of mind, minstrel. I’m grateful for it.” He turned to Melissina. “And you, my dear, you must be the princess.”

“Melissina,” she told him

“Yes, yes. You have the look of your mother. Then you must be Honorious’s son, the betrothed.”

Amertious nodded.

“And you want to get out of here before they send more men to get me.”

“It would be best.”

“Then help me to the horse or whatever I’m supposed to ride on.”

“We have a wagon,” Phichorian said as he helped steady the hermit.

The hermit looked ready to applaud. “Excellent. I don’t think I could ride just yet.”

Amertious drew his sword and started up the steps. Phichorian helped the hermit forward. At the stairs, Charles offered the hermit his shoulder too, and between him and Phichorian, they were able to get the hermit up the stairs. Melissina followed them up, her hand on her sword. Bobble darted up over their heads and scouted along the passage, darting back every few minutes to tell them it was clear.

They encountered no resistance as they made their way to the entryway. Amertious gestured for Charles, Phichorian and the hermit to stop. The hermit looked around the room. “And now?”

“Wait here,” Amertious said. “I will go outside and make certain there aren’t any other guards.”

“I will come with you,” Bobble offered.

Amertious was going to turn down Bobble’s offer, Charles could see it in his expression, but he didn’t.

“A good plan,” the hermit said, “but I find all of this,” he gestured to the bodies Phichorian had dragged there during the fight, “very distracting.”

“What do you want us to do?” Amertious grumbled. “Get rid of them?” He swept towards the door.

The hermit watched him leave, then turned to the rest of them. “I didn’t think he wanted to hear it, but that is precisely what I wanted you to do.”

Phichorian raised an eyebrow but went to the first of the guards, grabbed him by the legs, and looked around. “Where would you like them?”

The hermit smiled and sat on an overturned table. “There’s an easier way.”

Phichorian dropped the guard’s legs with a thunk. “Go on.”

“Light.”

They all turned to the hermit. He just stood there grinning at them.

“Light,” he repeated. “Go on, open the windows.”

Phichorian turned to Charles, “Come on.” He knelt in front of the nearest window and cupped his hands.

Charles went to him and hesitated. Phichorian shook his hands a bit. “Come on, I won’t drop you, just a boost.”

Charles put a hand on Phichorian’s shoulder, then stepped up into his hands. He wobbled a bit and clutched at Phichorian’s shoulder until he was steady.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Phichorian stood up slowly until Charles could reach the catch holding the shutters closed. He knocked it out and pulled the shutters open, letting the sunlight flood in.

Charles and Phichorian were so busy concentrating on getting Charles down, they did not see the result. Melissina did and gasped. As soon as Charles’s feet hit the ground, he and Phichorian spun around.

There was a shaft of light cutting down the center of the room. As it passed over the fallen guards, the armor covering them began to shrivel and crush in on itself. In a few moments, they were nothing but twisted bits of metal with nothing inside.

Phichorian recovered from the shock first. He grabbed Charles’s arm and half guided, half dragged him to the next window and, after boosting Charles up to the shutter, went on to the next.

By the time all nine sets of shutters were open, the whole room was filled with sunlight, and all but three of the fallen soldiers were nothing but shriveled strips of metal. Phichorian looked over the scene.

“This is why they took you.”

The hermit grinned. “I’m probably the only human in the whole kingdom not loyal to Necorious who would recognize them for what they are and know how to stop them.”

“What are they?” Charles asked. He could see from the way Phichorian and Melissina leaned in that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t know.

“Shades.” The hermit grinned at Phichorian’s and Melissina's reactions. He turned to Charles, who wasn’t sure what shades were but knew enough to be afraid.

The hermit smiled at him. “You don’t know what they are, do you lad? Shadows trapped and given form by a powerful wizard with very dark magic.”

“But we hurt them.”

“Yes, he gave them form, just as I said, bodies of a kind, and bodies can be hurt. But there is a more effective way to deal with shadows: a bit of light.” He nodded to the three remaining bodies. “Those must be the human leaders of this group. Shades are fierce and single minded, but not very intelligent.”

Bobble flitted back into the room at that moment. He looked around the now almost empty rooms and gasped. “Shades?”

They all nodded.

“I should have known, but no one has... not in two hundred years at least...” Bobble shook his head. “Sir Amertious is ready for you to come.”

The hermit stood up and looked to Phichorian, who ran over and offered his shoulder. Charles hurried over and stood at the hermit’s other side. The hermit leaned on them both. “Lead the way.”

Chapter 11

Amertious was standing by the small door, waiting for them. The hermit seemed very interested in the door. “So how did you manage to get through that?”

“Bobble went over the wall and looked around,” Amertious grumbled.

“But you all got in that way?”

Bobble flitted over. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Can we get out of here first?”

For once Charles agreed with Amertious. He stood near the little door and held out his arms. Amertious grabbed a handful of sleeve. Melissina grabbed his shoulder. Phichorian brought the hermit over. He supported the hermit with his left arm and grabbed Charles’s sleeve with his right. The hermit rested his hand on Charles’s shoulder. He rubbed the fabric of the sweater.

“I see...”

They made it through the door easily. Amertious ran ahead to get the horses while Charles and Phichorian helped the hermit to follow.

Bobble waited until Amertious had brought the wagon and Phichorian had gotten the hermit inside before he launched into an explanation of the sweater, what had worked, what hadn’t, his knitting needles flying as he spoke.

* * *

By the time they reached his hut, the hermit was recovered enough to get out of the wagon under his own power. Amertious and Melissina brought their horses to the small lean-to that served as a stable and got them settled. Phichorian unhitched the horse from the wagon and brought it to join the others. Charles got down slowly, feeling helpless again. As Phichorian walked past, he nodded towards the back of the wagon. Charles caught on at once and hurried to help the hermit around the wagon and into his hut, glad to be useful for once.

The hermit sat at the table as the others came in. “It seems I will need to prepare another dinner.”

Phichorian righted the rest of the chairs. Charles joined him. Melissina handed Amertious a bucket. “I saw a well by the back door.” Amertious couldn’t get out of that honorably, so he went out the back door. Bobble poked at the stack of logs in the fireplace and soon had a fire smoldering away. Melissina fed it a few logs then found the hermit’s supply of vegetables. “How about some soup?”

“You’ll find a pot in the cupboard by the window.”

Charles grinned at the old man’s high-handedness. Coming from him, it was much easier to take than from Amertious. He could see Phichorian was chuckling too.

By the time Charles and Phichorian had righted all of the salvageable furniture and stacked the remains of the rest against the wall by the back door, Melissina had the soup bubbling in the pot and Bobble’s fire had made the room cozy.

Melissina had also filled the kettle with the water Amertious had brought and made a pot of tea. Phichorian found the cups and Charles helped him bring them to the table to be filled.

As he settled in with his cup, the hermit looked them over. “Not that I doubt your great and selfless generosity in rescuing me, but why did you do it?”

That threw everyone but Phichorian, who answered cheerfully, “Dean Shellwood of Kirjavale sent us to you for help in defeating Necorious.”

“Ah, so rescuing me was an accident, but a happy one.” The hermit leaned back, contemplating the fire. “We know the weakness of his troops, how can we exploit that?”

Charles could see from Amertious’s expression that he still didn’t know the weakness.

“There is one possibility,” the hermit murmured, “but you won’t like it.”

Melissina refilled his cup. “Go on.”

“There is someone who may know how to use the Kingstone.”

“And the Kingstone will defeat them?” Melissina asked.

The hermit was still staring at the flames. “It should.”

“Then we should try it,” Melissina said. She turned to Amertious, who schooled his face into an expression of interest. At least he tried to; he only succeeded in not looking too disbelieving.

“You’ll have to talk to Flamebringer.”

Even the way the hermit said the name seemed scary to Charles. He considered edging over to Phichorian and asking him what it meant, but Amertious couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“A dragon? You want us to speak to a dragon? To take its advice?”

“And what else would you do when you encountered a five-hundred-twenty-seven-year-old creature? Kill it?” The hermit asked as if he knew the answer but wanted to see the reaction.

“Naturally I would kill it, as I am bound to do by my oath.”

“And you would kill the last holder of the secret of the Kingstone.”

“If you know what it does, why don’t you tell us?”

The hermit would not be baited. “There is a difference between knowing what it does and knowing how to make it do what it does.”

Melissina spoke up. “If it will save Father...”

“Princess, even if it were true, how would we get to the stone? And anyway, dragons are cunning. I doubt it knows the secret.”

“And if it does?” Melissina asked.

“Who would tell a dragon? Who could get close enough? It probably claims to have a valuable secret to protect its hide, or even to lure victims to its lair. It could say anything and no one would know if no one came back.”

“Or it could be true,” the hermit murmured.

Amertious was warming to his theory. “Clearly a cunning and dangerous creature that must be destroyed for the protection of the realm.”

“Why are you so eager to kill it?” The hermit seemed genuinely interested.

“I told you, my oath dictates it.”

“No relatives eaten by dragons? No childhood homes destroyed by their fire?”

“No.”

“So, you do whatever your oath tells you, even if following it will destroy your best and possible only chance to defeat Necorious?”

“It is a question of honor. To one who has not sworn to devote his life to upholding an ideal, it must be hard to understand, but I will not falter in my devotion. An oath, once taken, is binding, and one must...”

The hermit stared at Amertious. “Yes, yes, Sir High and Mighty.”

“I will not act against my oath and my oath says no dragon shall go unslain.”

“Your oath is a corruption of the words spoken by the founder of your order.”

“And I suppose you were there to hear them?”

The hermit smiled.

“I am not leaving a dragon to attack and destroy...”

“What? An uninhabited mountain? This could save your leader.”

Amertious stood very straight.

“It’s not as if you’ve never done it before. Don’t look so high and mighty. Ask your precious dean about it.”

Amertious grabbed his helm from the table. “I will be waiting by the wagon,” and with great dignity he swept out of the hut.

The hermit watched the door slam, then seemed to pull himself out of his temper. “Now that we’re rid of him, I’ll tell you how to find Flamebringer. Why so worried, Sweater-Wearer.”

Charles thought of a few smart responses to that — Sweater-Wearer seemed almost as bad as Charliekins — but what came out was, “Is it really that dangerous?”

“She’s a dragon. Of course she is.” He grinned. “Not what you wanted to hear, but true. I never let dislike cloud the truth,” the last bit seemed to be directed at Melissina. “It helps no one to hide a problem, only makes it worse when it comes out.” He looked back at Charles. “But you all look so glum. There is hope. She may let you near enough to listen to you before she roasts you, and she might listen long enough for you to convince her to help, if you’re persuasive. Of course, she may roast you on sight. Always a risk with dragons. But there’s no helping that.”

Charles turned to look at Melissina. Maybe he was taking the old hermit too seriously. Maybe it wasn’t as terrible as it sounded.

Melissina was white and wide-eyed. Charles was certain he was not overreacting. If anything, he was being conservative.

Only one person seemed to have something else on their mind. Bobble flitted forward three times before he built up the courage to address the hermit, “Excuse me, Exalted One.”

“Sprites always do know how to show proper respect.”

“Thank you, sir. If it isn’t too much to ask, can you tell me what went wrong with my sweater?”

The hermit squinted at Charles then shrugged. “Nothing.”

Bobble blinked. “Nothing?”

“Do you doubt me, sprite?” He seemed more amused than annoyed, but Bobble was too nervous to notice.

“On no, no. But if there’s nothing wrong with the sweater, what went wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Bobble looked ready to press the question again, but the hermit continued to stare at him until he changed his mind and flitted back behind Charles.

“Well then, if there are no other questions...”

Phichorian stepped forward. “There is one small thing. You haven’t told us how to find Flamebringer.”

The hermit nodded. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Are you familiar with Blackthorn Pass?”

Phichorian and Melissina nodded.

“There’s a big tree shaped like a crane. You turn left there.”

Neither Phichorian nor Melissina got that.

The hermit shrugged. “I guess I will have to give you this.” He dug around the mess under the table and finally held out a roll of parchment.

Melissina took it and unrolled it. It was a map. “Thank you.”

“Now if there’s nothing else...” He paused for an answer. “Then I seem to have a lovely pot of soup waiting for me and you have a companion in the yard waiting for you. I think I got the better end of that stick. Good day.” And he turned back to the fire.

Melissina shrugged, stuffed the rolled parchment into her belt, and went to the door. Only Bobble hesitated before following her out.

* * *

Amertious was leaning against the wagon, his back to the cottage, cleaning an already-spotless sword. Phichorian climbed into the wagon, then reached down to help Charles up. Amertious didn’t turn until he felt the wagon sway, and then he didn’t speak, just handed Charles the newly cleaned short-sword, mounted his horse, and waited for them to start.

“Thanks,” Charles said as he stowed the sword back under the wagon seat. He wasn’t sure if Amertious heard him or not, but it seemed polite.

Melissina kept an eye on Amertious, but she didn’t speak to him alone. “We’re returning to the University before we go to see Flamebringer. Dean Shellwood might have some ideas.”

“Or she might manage to make you see sense.” It was the only thing Amertious said as they started towards Kirjavale. He rode silently ahead of the wagon until it started to get dark and he found them a place beside the stream. “We camp here.”

Charles saw Melissina bridle at being ordered around, but she decided it wasn't worth a fight and held her tongue as she led her horse beside the wagon and dismounted.

Phichorian pulled the wagon around and got down. Charles followed him to the back of the wagon and took the tents as Phichorian handed them down.

Amertious broke the silence around the camp. “Come on, boy. Let’s see if you can still block a blade.”

Charles thought Amertious seemed a little too eager to hit at something. He turned to Phichorian.

Phichorian clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on.” He gave Charles a little push.

Charles followed Amertious away from the camp. They stopped in a clear area a few yards away from the wagon. Amertious kicked some branches out of the way then drew his sword. Charles pulled out the sword he’d been given. As he circled Amertious, getting the feel of the ground, he could see movement on the edge of the trees. During one revolution, he managed a quick look.

Phichorian was at the edge of the camp, nearest Charles and Amertious, fiddling with something. Charles only had a few moments to watch him, but Phichorian looked up. He smiled and gave an encouraging bit of a nod. Charles immediately felt better. Phichorian was keeping an eye on him.