by Ephie Risho
Basil grinned. “You got that right!”
Amber was used to simple food like bread and vegetables, sometimes seafood, and meats only on special occasions. Basil’s family ate potatoes and chicken with spices that at first seemed unusual, then enticing.
She was struck by how Basil seemed to be the most animated of the family. He had four younger siblings who ate quietly and listened to him tell the story of how they’d killed the goblins with great gusto—and with more detail than Amber had remembered.
He embellished the story, making the goblins sound bigger and even nastier than they were. Amber might have corrected her own brothers, but she was so tired she was happy to let Basil continue. She noticed his dad, seated at the head of the table, nodding approvingly. He looked wise and thoughtful, with the same curly hair as Basil.
“. . . and then, with four arrows stuck out of its massive chest, Amber sent a fifth arrow straight into its neck!” Basil made a gesture like an arrow flying through the air and acted like the goblin, falling back in his chair. The other children laughed and applauded, and Amber smiled.
She leaned back when she finished her plate. She hadn’t realized how hungry she’d been. Encountering and killing the goblins had exhausted her physically and emotionally. She yawned.
Basil’s mother instantly turned to her. “I suppose we’d better set you up with a bed. We’ve got some mats we can roll out by the fire.”
“That would be lovely.” Amber stretched and stood. “I have bedding with Buttercup. Oh! Buttercup! I need to take care of her.”
“Don’t worry, I can do it.” Basil stood. “She can spend the night with Storm.”
Amber raised her eyebrows and walked outside with Basil. They led her horse to a small stable with a single, beautiful black horse that stood quietly in a spacious stall.
Storm perked up when he saw Basil, flicking his ears and prancing about. Basil patted his neck. “Hi, Storm. You have a visitor.”
Amber led Buttercup next to Storm and watched as the two horses observed each other. When they seemed fine with one another, Basil helped Amber take off Buttercup’s saddle and saddlebags, then put them on the railing.
“Get your rest, and tomorrow we’ll see about finding this wizard of yours. But first, I want to show the goblin’s pendant to Chandler. It’s different from the others we’ve seen around here.”
Amber nodded and followed Basil, tired to her bones. As she prepared her bed, she thought of her friends and family back home, wondering if they were ok and what would happen to them if the phoenix returned.
Her mind continued to wander. This wizard, Sage, what if he can’t save us from all these problems? It seems like it’s far worse than just attacks on my village. Something bigger is going on. What can one wizard—or any of us—do about it?
She realized she was clenching her jaw and released it. However much she wanted to solve the problems of her village, she also needed her sleep, so she tried her hardest to relax, even if just for a moment.
9
Pursuit of Pixies
A MAN WEARING ALL BLACK rode on a flapping hippogriff along the coast, scanning the craggy rocks and tall trees beyond the pebble beaches. The body of the hippogriff was like a sturdy dark-brown horse, and it had the front legs and head of a massive golden eagle. It glistened in the afternoon sun as it slowly beat its gigantic wings, obediently following the man’s silent direction.
He scowled. His leather armor and cape matched his mood, as dark as the night. He had a sizable black beard, a thin short sword on his left side, and a silver scepter in a holster of sorts on his right. Even darker than his appearance was the spirit emanating from him, an evilness that scattered seagulls in every direction as he approached.
He pulled a thin wooden wand out of his belt and pointed it toward the coast. “Illuminado!” His voice was full of power and he held the wand steady.
He frowned deeply and continued scanning the rugged old trees along the rocky coast. The trees rustled in the wind as the waves crashed along the pebbles and larger rocks. Nothing out of the ordinary was visible.
He slowed down as another hippogriff approached from the coastline, bearing a rider wearing dark clothing and a long red cape that fluttered in the wind.
The other rider turned his steed to fly in the same direction alongside the first one. “I’ve found them, Lucio!” He was much younger looking and brown-skinned, with a neatly trimmed, very short black beard. He looked quite friendly compared to the menacing dark man.
“Where?” Lucio asked.
“Five miles up the coast. They’re heading west, as we anticipated.”
“Excellent. Show me.”
The two lifted higher into the air and flew along the shoreline. They passed a village where people were tending a field that had recently been burned by a large fire. There was a shout from the village far below, but the men ignored it as they flew steadily west.
“How many?” Lucio called.
“At least a few dozen,” the other man called back over the wind. “It’s hard to say. The imps have killed at least one or two. But not more than that.”
They flew in silence, then the younger man said, “They’re down here. In the thick trees.”
The dark man nodded, and they glided down to some rocks on the shoreline. The hippogriffs landed gracefully and folded their wings so the men could dismount. Both men were light on their feet, agile like cats, and disembarked with barely a sound. They strode to the tree line, next to the coast, and paused.
Lucio folded his arms and stood peering into the woods, then pulled his wand from his belt and raised it. “Illuminado!” The words came out quietly but forcefully.
He smiled, a wicked grin. “They are here, as you say. We will kill most of them—but not all. We need to leave a few of them, so they can lead us to their Great Stone Tower.”
He turned to the younger man who was nodding. “Yes. Yes, of course. What’s your plan? Magic?”
“Pixies have a way of countering spells, as you should know, Caster,” Lucio said calmly. “But yes, magic will work well for us in this case.” He put the wand back in his belt, then pulled the silver scepter off his side. He turned to the trees around him and waved the scepter. The tip glowed purple briefly, then a dozen birds came flying out of the trees toward him.
They hovered in front of him as he spoke. “Go to the pixies and report back to us where they are at all times. If they move, let us know immediately.”
The birds scattered in different directions, and Lucio holstered the scepter. “Let’s give them a couple of minutes. We need to be certain. Any imps left?”
“Just one. Would you like me to call it?”
“Yes.”
Caster lifted a small brown wand and spoke quietly but with force, “Reconicio.” They waited for a minute, then the imp flew out from the trees to their right and hovered in front of them.
Lucio spoke. “Ask it what it knows.”
Caster lifted his wand peered at the imp, as if searching its soul. After a moment he said, “They’ve killed the other imps. They are as treacherous as ever. There are pixies from two villages in the group. Roughly fifty or so. They seem to have purpose in their direction, not wandering around. They’re definitely heading somewhere.”
“Has the imp been noticed?” Lucio asked. “Ask it. Even if it thinks it’s minutely possible.”
Caster focused again. “Most likely not. It’s uncertain, but it hasn’t killed any pixies, so it thinks they don’t know about it yet. It also says the pixies are edgy, watching the woods with great intensity. The chance of sneaking up on them is slim, and that’s for an imp.”
He stroked his short black beard, then looked at Lucio with raised eyebrows. “I assume you have a plan?”
“Of course.” Lucio put the scepter back in its holster. “We’ll know when it’s time to attack. The key to taking on pixies is to use their own powers against them. They trust the forest—so we will turn the forest int
o a prison.”
The first of the birds returned, and Lucio held the scepter up again, listening, as the tip glowed purple. “They’re this way. Come on then.”
They quietly walked through the woods, careful not to step on any branches or leaves. Lucio gestured with his hands, making a motion that signaled Caster to walk to his right side. They slowly walked up to a thicket, then circled around on either side.
There, they could hear dozens of pixies chatting and fluttering in the wind, their tiny voices lifting high above the other forest sounds.
Lucio gestured, and counted down on his fingers. Three. Two. One.
He raised his wand and urgently whispered, “Ballistico!”
The branches above the clearing suddenly shifted and turned into arrows of sorts, raining down on the entire area.
Caster waved his wand around the area. “Protexin!”
A translucent, shimmering wall surrounded the grove of trees. Some of the arrows bounced off branches and flew toward the semi-invisible wall but ricocheted off toward the forest floor.
As hundreds of arrows flew down, covering the area over and over, the sound of cracking and rushing wind filled the once-peaceful forest. Plants with wide leaves were ripped apart, and a few mushrooms exploded into flying pieces.
When the sound died down, Lucio gave a signal, and Caster snapped his fingers, causing the glowing wall to disappear. The two men walked into the devastated area and looked around.
Lucio frowned. “Where are they?”
Caster silently shrugged and looked underneath a bush.
Lucio slapped a small tree with his wand. “How did they escape?”
He peered into a bush, then scrutinized a larger tree looking for cracks. “They were here!”
“Are you sure?” Caster asked. “We heard them, but did you see them?”
Lucio paused. “Do you think they knew we were coming? Do you think they cast a spell to trick us?”
Caster shrugged and looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, I do. They’re tricky little buggers. They probably figured out the birds were enchanted, or maybe they were watching the imp. Who knows? But they’re obviously not here, and they fooled us into thinking they were.”
Lucio raised his wand. “Illuminado!”
They stood in silence, listening to the forest return to its prior state with birds chirping and squirrels scrambling from branch to branch.
“Argh!” He kicked a branch, sending it flying into a tree, then stormed through the woods back toward the coast. Caster looked around one last time and followed quickly behind. As Lucio went, he muttered to himself, whacking the occasional leafy bush with his wand and causing it to wilt.
They emerged back into the sun on the rocky coastline, the great glistening sea before them, white caps breaking the waves in the wind. Lucio turned to Caster. “They may have fooled us this time, but we’re on their trail. We’ll continue to burn the villages along the coast. More pixies will emerge. But we’ll need more imps.”
He paused and glared.
Caster gulped loudly. “I . . . um . . . I know who to ask where we might find more. I think most of them in this area are long gone.”
“Good.” Lucio folded his arms and stared at the waves. “We’ll need them. I don’t care if you have to cross the sea. They’re important to our plan. They’re the most effective way to track the pixies.”
As if on cue, the imp flew over to Caster. “And this one?”
“Tell it to keep a low profile. We can’t let it get killed—yet. We need it to pick up the trail of the pixies again. But tell it to keep its distance. We don’t really need to kill the pixies right now. We need at least some of them to make it to their tower.”
Caster raised his wand and looked into the imp’s eyes. After a moment, it flew off into the forest, and Caster turned back to Lucio. “So . . . is that all you need from me here? Shall I find more imps?”
Lucio nodded. “Yes. Get moving at once. And I’ll check on the army. Let’s reconvene in a few days at the queen’s fortress.”
Caster bobbed his head. “You got it. I’ll see you there.”
Both men mounted their hippogriffs, then kicked their sides. The creatures spread their enormous wings and gracefully lifted into the sky. Caster flew southwest, and Lucio flew due south.
As the flying figures vanished, dozens of small pixie heads popped out of hidden pockets in nearby trees. They were smiling and patting each other on the backs. Although they were glad that they’d escaped the attack, their dilemma was now clear.
Evil wizards were after them for some reason. They were powerful, dangerous, and seemed to have a lot more help that hadn’t been used yet. Something would have to be done, or they’d eventually be tracked down and killed.
Flurry shook her head. “Oh Amber. I hope you figure something out soon.”
10
A Better Plan
AMBER AWOKE WITH A START. The sun had been up for hours already, and it wasn’t like her to sleep in so late. She looked around the room, getting her bearings. It took her a moment to remember that she was in another village, in another house.
Then she thought of her parents. Would they be worried if she didn’t get word to them? She’d have to figure that out. She rolled up her bedding and looked around.
No one was inside the tidy house. Some sliced bread and cheese sat on the counter. She helped herself to some, then walked outside.
The sun shone, and she noticed for the first time the orange and purple daylilies surrounding Basil’s house. She wandered into the street and took in the buildings around her. Some looked much like the ones in Seabrook, but there was something different about many of them. The buildings were more tightly packed together and taller, but there was something else she couldn’t put her finger on.
Amber peered at a house, trying to figure out what the difference was, then it struck her: the windows. In Seabrook, all the windows had shutters for big storms, and the windows themselves were divided into four or more. But here, the windows were large, empty, and sparse in comparison.
Sanford was also much bigger than Seabrook. She couldn’t tell how large it was but there seemed to be a lot more people around.
After wandering for a few minutes, Amber realized she might get lost if she didn’t find a landmark. She looked back and noted a large, grey rock next to a blue house by the dirt road, then turned and kept walking.
She came across two men dressed in elegant white shirts with fancy collars and jackets with intricate patterns. “Good morning.” Amber waved. “Do you by any chance know where Basil might have gone off to?”
One of the men smiled. “Who’s Basil?”
She was taken aback. In her town, everybody knew everybody. It never struck her before that a town could be large enough that someone may not know someone else.
“Do you know where Chandler is?”
The man nodded. “Of course.” He pointed down the road where she was headed. “If you stay on this road and turn right at the green house just over there, it’s about ten houses down on the right. Two-story yellow building.”
“Thank you.” Amber gave a polite nod and then continued on her way, marveling at the houses. There were only three two-story houses in Seabrook, whereas this place had two-story houses everywhere. Basil’s neighborhood was all homes, but now the buildings were mostly shops of different sorts, with living space on the second floors.
Every store had a sign hanging from it above the door with pictures of what they offered. She tried to guess what they were as she walked past them. Barbershop. Bar. Clothing store. Grocery store. Something to do with books.
Amber was so busy looking at the buildings that she walked into a bush with small leaves. “Oops!” she said out loud to no one in particular.
The bush was different than any she’d seen before, with tiny white berries and twisty branches that held her in. She tried not to damage the branches as she pulled herself out. There was something comforting about th
e bush, and she wondered if it had helpful properties like healing. As she usually did with new plants, she made a mental note to look into it later.
She ended up in front of a two-story yellow building with a sign that looked like something to do with maps. Inside, maps and books lined every wall. Two large tables were in the main room, covered with open maps and a few books. At the back was a smaller table with a lamp, and Basil was there holding out the goblins’ pendant to a middle-aged man with glasses.
Basil looked up and waved her over. “Amber. Come on in! This is Chandler.”
Chandler wore nice clothing, with a collared shirt and billowy sleeves—the kind of clothing the people of Seabrook reserved for a wedding or special occasion. Amber watched curiously how he examined the pendant. He took off his glasses and put a big lens in his right eye to peer at it more closely.
“Hmm. Hmm.” He frowned and pursed his lips as he turned it over and over. Finally he set it down and put his glasses back on.
“Well. The best guess I have is that there are different groups of them.” He held up another pendant, very similar to the one Basil had taken off the goblin, but with a different design.
“These ones seem to be the most common in our parts. I think the goblins with these are coming from the mountains far to the south of here, the Ancares Mountains.” Chandler pointed at the map on the table in front of them. “The one you found is a mystery . . . we haven’t seen it yet. I wonder if it came from the west, over here.” He pointed at another section of the map.
Amber had seen maps before, but this map had an amazing amount of detail and covered a much larger area. She saw Seabrook on the coast, far north of Sanford, and mentally thought of how far the towns were from each other. A full day’s travel.
She looked at Wakefield, about the same distance away from Sanford. The Ancares Mountains, she figured, were well over two hundred miles away to the southeast.
The door opened, and Basil called, “Theo! Come here.”