6

MIDNIGHT VISITORS

In the middle of the night, Aldwyn was woken by the heavy wooden door to the bedroom swinging open with a bang. He lifted his head from where it had been nestled next to Jack’s side. His instincts told him there was danger in the air, and indeed, a moment later Kalstaff was moving toward them with an intense but measured urgency.

“Children, wake up,” commanded the old wizard. “We must go at once.”

Marianne stirred immediately.

“What’s going on?” she asked, scooping up a still-sleeping Gilbert from the pillow at the foot of her bed and retrieving her pocket scrolls from the wooden nightstand.

Kalstaff’s knotty fingers reached out and shook Jack’s shoulder.

“Now, Jack,” he said firmly.

Jack’s legs slid over, his feet coming to rest on the floor. He was still half asleep, not yet fully aware of the tenseness of the situation. Aldwyn sprang to his feet, his ears focused on a low rumbling in the distance.

“I can hear hooves in the sky,” said Kalstaff. “I fear that danger is coming sooner than I expected.”

Dalton appeared in the doorway with Skylar on his shoulder. She looked alert and ready for whatever was to come, carrying her leather satchel over her wing.

“Where are we going?” asked Dalton. “How many days’ supplies will we need?”

“We’re just heading across the meadow to the cellar,” said Kalstaff. “Come on.”

Kalstaff ushered the apprentice wizards from the room, leaving them no time to change out of their sleeping shirts or even put on their slippers.

“I thought Kalstaff didn’t like to disturb the natural sleep cycle,” Aldwyn said to Skylar, frightened by the midnight escape.

“He doesn’t.” This did little to reassure him.

Aldwyn’s heart was racing. The pounding in his chest began the moment he’d been wrenched from his peaceful slumber, and now it had reached a flat-out sprint. He stayed close to Jack as the boy staggered out of the room and down the hall. Gilbert had buried himself in Marianne’s shirt pocket, his bulging eyes just peeking out over the edge.

In the living room, the wizards made some hasty emergency preparations. Kalstaff extended his hand and his rod flew off the table directly into his waiting palm. Marianne grabbed the lightning bug hive. Skylar glided from Dalton’s shoulder down to a low-lying metal rack where she began filling her satchel with tiny glass vials containing different spell components.

Aldwyn could hear Gilbert muttering to himself from inside Marianne’s pocket.

“Go to your happy place,” he rambled in a mild panic. “A mosquito-filled swamp.” But it didn’t seem to help: Aldwyn could still hear the tree frog’s rapid breathing.

Before leading his pupils from the cottage, Kalstaff stopped in front of the ancient weapons secured to the wall and unfastened the bronze clamps holding the spiked club, trident, and halberd in place. Then he turned back for the door, leaving the sharpened blades on the wall.

“Aren’t we taking them?” asked Jack.

Without reply, Kalstaff led the young wizards and their familiars outside.

A full moon was now hanging high in the sky, casting an eerie bluish light across the land. The tall grass swaying in the wind resembled stormy ocean waves. Kalstaff pointed across to the other side of the meadow, where two closed iron doors marked the entryway to the cellar.

“Quick,” said Kalstaff. “We’ll be safe there.”

They hurried across the cottage grounds, Marianne using the lightning bug hive to light their path. Stone Runlet, which had seemed so comforting and peaceful when Aldwyn had first arrived there, now was surrounded by the threat of an oncoming menace.

“If what we’re running from is so dangerous, how will two metal doors protect us?” asked Marianne.

“There’s more to that old earthen chamber than dilled apples and jugs of persimmon wine,” said Kalstaff. “My father built it during the days of the Black March, back when I was a boy. He lined the inside with alabaster and sealed the walls with warding spells. These magic defenses protected my parents and sisters when I was off fighting against the Dead Army Hordes. It will do the same for us.”

He urged them on, but they hadn’t even gotten halfway across the meadow when a steady gallop of thunderclaps could be heard in the sky to the northeast. Aldwyn looked up to see four spectral creatures coming toward them over the trees, horses that seemed to be formed out of translucent green energy. Through the sky they rode, cantering along a ghostly stone path that materialized before them and disappeared again once the last hoof was lifted from it. Atop the phantom stallions sat four riders, their identities hidden by the sinister darkness.

“Run!” said Kalstaff.

Jack, Marianne, and Dalton didn’t have to be told twice. Aldwyn, terrified by the presence of evil in the atmosphere, bounded alongside them as their bare feet kicked up clouds of dust from the ground. Gilbert ducked even further out of view, as if the linen fabric of Marianne’s shirt would keep him out of harm’s reach. But the cellar doors were too far away; Aldwyn realized that they would never make it there in time.

And indeed seconds later, the first horse, ridden by a slender figure wearing a charcoal robe, touched the ground. The other three landed right behind—soldiers outfitted in helmets, bronze vests of chain mail, and spiked armbands. Kalstaff stepped forward and held his arm out protectively, keeping himself between the unwanted visitors and his young pupils.

Green sparks ran up the legs of the spectral steeds and crackled down their manes and tails. The creatures smelled like a mixture of wet fur and the sky after a lightning storm. As the riders dismounted, the steeds seemed to fold in on themselves, becoming smaller and smaller until they were tiny balls of electrical energy—which then, with a pop, vanished into thin air.

The leader of the group stepped forward, folding the hood back from her head. Beneath it was revealed a distinguished-looking older woman, vibrant and strong for one as aged as she. She wore a band of platinum and gold across her forehead, rings with gems of shimmering colors on her fingers, and an ornately carved wooden bracelet around her wrist. Aldwyn could have sworn he’d seen her somewhere before. But where?

Kalstaff lowered his arm.

“Loranella,” he said with a note of relief in his voice.

Of course! Aldwyn now recognized the woman as the queen. She had grown older since her face had been sculpted into the marble statue standing before Bridgetower’s House of Trials, but her regal poise was still unmistakable.

“What brings you here at such an hour, my dear old friend? I thought you were ill,” continued Kalstaff.

“Rumors of my sickness have been greatly overstated,” replied the queen.

“I wish you had shot me a messenger arrow before your arrival. You gave us all quite a scare.”

“That was certainly not my intention. I apologize.”

Kalstaff’s shoulders relaxed, and the tension and worry that had gripped the wizards and familiars only moments ago was replaced by awe and respect for Vastia’s great ruler, who was standing just a few feet from them. Gilbert decided to emerge from his hiding place and hop all the way down to the ground; Skylar meanwhile was rocking back and forth with excitement on Dalton’s shoulder.

“To what do we owe this unexpected visit?” asked Kalstaff with a smile. “And since when did you start riding spectral steeds again? We haven’t done that since the Uprising.”

“The royal carriage is so formal. It just didn’t feel like me anymore.”

“Is it true what they say?” asked Jack, wide-eyed with wonder. “Did you really behead the dark mages, Wyvern and Skull, with only two swings of your sword?”

Queen Loranella knelt down and looked at Jack, nose to nose.

“No. I did it with just one.”

Jack’s eyes grew even wider.

The queen stood tall again, and her gaze moved from Jack to Marianne and then to Dalton.

“So you are Kalstaff’s three pupils,” said the queen. “Word in Vastia’s wizarding circles is that great things lie in your futures.” Aldwyn could see Dalton straighten with pride, an expression mirrored by Skylar, who perched proudly on his shoulder. “Which is why I’m here,” she concluded, gently pushing the hair out of Jack’s eyes with a smile. There was something very wrong with that smile, Aldwyn thought. Then Loranella spoke again, and all of his worst fears came true. “Guards,” the queen said coolly. “Kill them.”

Aldwyn didn’t want to believe his ears, and from the look on Kalstaff’s face, neither did the old wizard. But that didn’t stop him from aiming the glass tip of his rod at his three apprentices. “Shieldarum resisto!” Kalstaff shouted, and suddenly, three large but delicate bubbles, looking as if they had just been washed off a bar of soap, were spinning through the air.

But before they reached Jack, Marianne, and Dalton, the queen pointed one of her rings at them. She flicked her finger and the ring shot out a trio of ruby needles that popped each of the protective spells in midair.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Loranella said, wagging her finger from side to side, clearly amused by Kalstaff’s feeble attempt. Then she turned to her soldiers. “What are you waiting for? The prophecy ends here.”

The guards advanced on Jack, Marianne, and Dalton, readying their blades. Seeing one of the soldiers’ chipped battle swords glint in the moonlight snapped Marianne out of her paralysis. As the soldier prepared to strike, she chanted, “Lich’s eye, dragon’s belly, turn that sword into jelly!”

The weapon made contact with Jack’s shoulder, splattering his white shirt with globs of red. The sight gave Aldwyn a severe shock, tightening his chest and making him go weak in the legs.

“I’m bleeding!” cried Jack.

“No, that’s just strawberry,” said Marianne, as the guard lifted the hilt of his sword. The blade was gone, having been transformed into jelly. Aldwyn breathed a sigh of relief; Jack was okay, for now at least.

The other two soldiers wasted no time and charged forth with their deadly blades held over their heads. The first one tossed aside what was left of his weapon and removed a double-headed battle-axe that was strapped to his back.

“Get to the cellar,” Kalstaff shouted. He closed his eyes and beckoned the spiked club, trident, and halberd from the cottage. The pole arms crashed through the window and flew into the fray, defending the young wizards against the attacking guards as if wielded by unseen hands.

The loyals and their familiars took off running again. Aldwyn glanced behind him to see the enchanted weapons, kept afloat only by Kalstaff’s spell, fighting the queen’s three soldiers. The trident’s three blades ducked and dodged, trying to fork the belly of one of the guards. The long, sharp metal edge of the halberd was quick enough to slice a gash in one of the sword-wielding henchmen’s shoulders. But Kalstaff’s concentration was too divided: the spiked club met a devastating blow as the battle-axe splintered the blunt wooden weapon in half.

“Old age has weakened you,” mocked Loranella, her nose twitching with delight. “Funny, because I seem to just keep getting stronger.”

She conjured a ball of fire in her hand and hurled it at Kalstaff. He held up a forearm to redirect it.

“What has corrupted your mind? A curse? Disease? You can be healed. I’ll help you.”

“It’s far too late for that,” said the queen as her black eyes narrowed coldly, a shimmer of pink behind them. “I’m going to feed your corpse to the bone vultures.”

She clapped her hands together, sending out a beam of energy. Kalstaff grabbed his rod with both hands, shooting forth a beam of his own. The two bursts of light smashed up against each other, deadlocking in the air, neither wizard able to gain an advantage.

Skylar and Aldwyn arrived at the iron cellar doors first. Jack, Marianne, and Dalton got there moments later. Gilbert lagged behind, hopping as fast as his legs could carry him. Aldwyn realized they were just a swing of the door and a jump away from safety: below the ground, behind the alabaster-lined walls of the cellar, they would be protected. But just as Marianne reached for the latch, a pale orange stream of light shot over her shoulder, striking the metal cellar hasp and encasing it in a thick layer of rust. The loyals and familiars spun to see that the bolt had come from Loranella, who while engaged in the standoff with Kalstaff had been able to use a ring on her other hand to cast the spell. Marianne tried to pull the doors open anyway, but the queen’s rusting bond held fast.

“Skylar, I need some ground glow worm,” said Dalton. “It’s the only thing that can eat through the rust.”

Skylar immediately dove her beak into her leather satchel and began rummaging for the necessary vial.

“It’s not here,” she said with a look of confusion.

“What do you mean, it’s not there?” asked Dalton.

Before Skylar could answer, Jack spoke up sheepishly. “I borrowed it.” All eyes turned to him. “I’m sorry. I was trying to make my marbles glow in the dark. But there’s still some left over. It’s in my pouch. On the nightstand.”

Everybody’s eyes turned back toward the cottage and the perils that lay between.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Marianne. “There’s no way any of us could make it there and back unharmed.”

“Aldwyn can do it,” said Jack.

It took Aldwyn a moment to realize what Jack had suggested. “I can?” he asked out loud.

Right then, the queen used her free hand to shoot forth another ring blast, this one intended to burn the young wizards alive. Dalton conjured a swirl of wind to lift a fallen everwillow branch from the ground to intercept it. Upon contact, the branch exploded in a shower of flaming wood chips.

“Aldwyn, go!” pleaded Jack as he took cover from the raining embers.

Aldwyn thought he was much too young to die a heroic death, but what else was there to do? Besides, if there was one thing he was good at, it was running. And so the alley cat turned familiar ran—right between the legs of the guard with the battle-axe, who was now fighting the two halves of the spiked club—just beneath the concentrated waves of energy radiating from Kalstaff’s rod and Loranella’s rings, as the two wizards remained locked in deadly battle—and straight for the front door of the cottage.

Miraculously, Aldwyn got there unharmed. Once inside, he darted down the hall to the bedrooms. He didn’t stop until he arrived at Jack and Marianne’s room. There, sitting beside the globe, was Jack’s pouch. Aldwyn jumped atop the cot before leaping to the nightstand, where he snatched the leather bag in his teeth. Now all he had to do was go back the way he had come.

As he took a deep breath in preparation for another mad dash, he felt a hot tickle brush from his nostrils all the way into his throat. He realized that the room was beginning to fill with smoke, and that the ceiling was on fire. One of Loranella’s ring blasts must have set the cottage ablaze. Aldwyn high-tailed it for the hall, but before he reached the exit, one of the flame-licked ceiling beams collapsed, knocking the bedroom door clean off its hinges and toppling toward him. Aldwyn slid beneath it, narrowly avoiding the burning wall of wood.

With Jack’s pouch secured in his mouth, he ran down the hallway and found the living room had become a crackling inferno, making the smithy’s furnace seem cool by comparison. Clay shingles were dropping through the ceiling, shattering as they hit the ground below. The hammocks, once hanging peacefully, now looked like flaming spiderwebs, ready to grab Aldwyn in their tangle of burning rope. But he dodged the obstacles before bounding out through the doorway.

He immediately saw that the situation outside had gotten significantly worse. Kalstaff had been forced to his knees and was struggling mightily to fight back the queen’s relentless onslaught of magic. In his weakening state, Kalstaff’s ability to control the floating weapons had diminished enough for the soldiers to gain the upper hand. Only the halberd remained fighting, with the club and trident fallen. Two of Loranella’s soldiers were almost upon the young wizards, who still were trapped outside the cellar doors. Aldwyn could see Skylar flying out from the woods, a small dark cloud following behind her. The brave blue jay flung a barrage of yellow storm berries at the approaching soldiers, causing a sheet of rain to fly in their faces. A small lightning bolt struck the helmet of the guard with the battle-axe. He tore it off his head to reveal a large patch of smoking scalp where half of his hair had been singed off. As Skylar took another flyby, he swung his helmet angrily, hitting her wing and sending her tumbling into the grass.

Aldwyn’s charge across the meadow was stopped short by the sound of shattering glass as the tip of Kalstaff’s rod broke into a thousand pieces. It was followed by a haunting wail that seemed to come from the broken rod itself. Loranella wasted no time and struck the disarmed wizard with all of her evil-hearted sorcery. A spear of hot white energy seared a hole straight through Kalstaff’s chest. As the wizard collapsed, the entire world seemed to freeze in horror and despair. For a moment, the eerie stillness of death hung over Stone Runlet.

Then Marianne screamed “No!” and time started moving again. The queen faced her soldiers. “Kill them! Kill them all!” she screamed, motioning at the young wizards.

 

 

With her back now turned, she didn’t notice Kalstaff stir, his lips forming the all but inaudible words “Shieldarum resisto.” The spell barely escaped his mouth, but again three shimmering bubbles formed in the air, only this time they didn’t look nearly as delicate as they had before, glowing brighter and bolder as they spun rapidly toward his young apprentices.

“Talk about déjà vu,” said the queen as she fired three more ruby needles from her ring at the bubbles floating by her. But now, when the red tips of her bolts hit the protective spells, they didn’t puncture them; they merely bounced off. “What?” Loranella exclaimed, unable to hide her surprise and dismay.

Before she could make another attempt to destroy them, the three bubbles encircled Jack, Marianne, and Dalton, melding to their bodies and creating a thin, impenetrable forcefield around each one of them.

The queen glared down at Kalstaff, who was pale and motionless and to Aldwyn seemed even more wrinkled than before.

“You used your last pulse of life for that? To cast three Astraloch bubbles? They won’t protect them for long, Kalstaff.” She shook her head dismissively and turned to her guards. “Bind them, gag them, and take them away. We will kill them when the spell wears off.” The soldiers were quick to obey.

Aldwyn dropped the pouch from his mouth. What good would the glow worms do now that the children were kidnapped?

Queen Loranella walked up to the captured wizards with a hop in her step. She whistled, and four balls of green energy appeared in the air, quickly unfolding into the four spectral steeds. Each of the soldiers hoisted one of the bound children atop a horse before mounting it. Aldwyn could only watch helplessly as Jack’s pleading eyes cried out for help. The queen hopped nimbly onto the last of the phantom stallions and, without looking back once, commanded, “Ride.”

The ghostly path materialized again, curving away into the sky. On it, the steeds galloped off and were soon swallowed up by the darkness.

Silence descended quickly and without warning. It was as if the bugs, brook, and wind all dared not speak. Aldwyn stood in a daze. Gilbert hobbled over from where he had been kicked aside by one of the queen’s soldiers. Then the two spotted Skylar lying beak down in the dirt. They ran over to their comrade.

“Skylar,” called Gilbert, nudging her with his webbed foot. “Wake up!”

The jay flew up into the air with a start, wings beating and head spinning frantically. “Where are they? What happened?”

Aldwyn and Gilbert exchanged a look.

“What is it? Is Dalton okay? Tell me,” demanded Skylar.

“They’ve all been captured,” said Gilbert. “And the queen . . .”

Then Skylar looked over and saw Kalstaff lying on the ground. Like a dart, she flew to his side. Aldwyn and Gilbert quickly followed. Gathering before him, the familiars found Kalstaff breathing heavily, his cloak hiding the severity of his wound. The old wizard tried to clear his throat. “Familiars, come close and listen carefully,” he whispered weakly. “I am afraid a great responsibility has fallen on your shoulders. I wish it weren’t so, but my path ends here.” He coughed, then licked his lips before continuing. “Earlier this evening, I saw a prophecy—three stars spinning in the sky. It foretold that three young spellcasters from Stone Runlet were destined to save this world: Marianne, Jack, and Dalton. It is clear they have powers that are yet untapped, powers that could change the tide of what I fear may be coming. And it is now evident that I was not the only one who saw this prophecy.”

“The queen,” said Skylar, explaining to Aldwyn and Gilbert.

“Yes. The enchantment I cast upon your loyals will protect them for three sunsets. After that, it will fade, and they will be defenseless against the queen’s deadly magic.” Kalstaff’s last breaths grew near. “You must find a way to rescue them. It is up to you.”

“Us? How?” asked Aldwyn in disbelief.

“We’re just a bunch of familiars,” added Gilbert, shaking his head.

Even Skylar had a look of uncertainty on her face.

“I see the worry on your faces, but fear not. Heroism appears in many forms,” said Kalstaff in a whisper. “Not always man or woman but also fur, feather, and tongue.”

Kalstaff’s eyes closed, never to open again. The once mighty wizard was dead.

Skylar flew gently atop him, nuzzling her feathered head into his chest. Gilbert stepped into his unmoving, open palm. Even though he had hardly known Kalstaff, Aldwyn, too, was overwhelmed by a feeling of profound loss. He had never experienced death before, at least not that of someone close to him. The only thing comparable was the feeling of heartbreak he endured from never having known his parents.

As the animals said their last good-byes, a circle of mist formed a stone’s throw away, and out from the fog, a faintly glowing bloodhound emerged, old and tender looking.

Gilbert looked up at the canine spirit.

“Zabulon,” he said.

Skylar lifted her beak, wiping away a tear with her wing. She, too, recognized the ghost of Kalstaff’s familiar, his drooping ears and long face.

“Take good care of him,” she said. “Guide him gently into the Tomorrowlife.”

Zabulon approached Kalstaff, his steps light and buoyant, freed from the gravity that burdens all living beings. He leaned his head down and took hold of the deceased wizard’s hand before giving a pull. Aldwyn and the others watched as Zabulon gently tugged Kalstaff’s spirit from his body. The transparent figure rose to his feet and turned to the mist without looking back. Together, the ghostly wizard and his familiar walked into the fog, reunited again.

Kalstaff was gone, the cottage had burned to the ground, and the young wizards were in the clutches of the evil queen. The three animals were on their own, an impossible task weighing heavily on their small backs.

Aldwyn had but one question in his mind: How had the fate of Vastia fallen upon a tree frog, a blue jay, and himself, a fake familiar without even the tiniest whisker of magic?