The Knights of Silversnow

by Tony Abbott

  Sparr looked around at the haggons squirming in Max’s web. “So, you’ve defeated the three sisters, have you?”

  “We have, evil one!” Old Rolf snarled, setting his giant boot on one squawking haggon’s tail.

  “And my Ninns?” Sparr sneered. “They seem to have met their match.”

  Galen smiled. “They have met themselves! They shall not fight today.”

  “Oh, dear. Then it’s up to me!” said Sparr. From a sheath on his back, he pulled a long, ornately decorated sword. Strange, dark symbols ran up the blade to its sparkling tip.

  “Galen, you tracked me through the length and depth of Goll. But you could not stop me from discovering Ko’s magic sword. Or the Dark Stair itself!”

  With that, the sorcerer unleashed a storm of red lightning bolts shooting in every direction.

  Blam-blam-blam!

  Galen and Keeah were knocked down the steps and into the snow. Neal, Julie, and Max were thrown into a heap with Lunk and Smee.

  Laughing, Sparr leaped into the castle. Everyone scrambled to their feet and raced inside. But as soon as they entered the main room, Sparr sprayed another round of lightning blasts.

  One bolt hit Old Rolf squarely on his shield and knocked it out of his hands and across the room to Eric. Eric slid behind it, protected against the storm of red light.

  “Sparr!” cried Galen, struggling to get up. “You shall not do this!”

  “And who here will stop me?” Sparr asked. Then he took the sword and hurled it over his head. It flew across the room and — flang! — struck the giant door of ice.

  Krrrrk! A jagged crack appeared from floor to ceiling, and the door opened.

  Beyond it stood an enormous stairway, its black stone glittering with frost.

  “The Dark Stair!” Julie gasped.

  Eric felt a nudge at his side. He lowered his hand and the wand jumped into it.

  “This stairway brought me to Droon,” cried Sparr. “Now it will take me back —” He turned to see Eric in the shadows. “Back to our world!”

  Eric felt sick. Knowing that Sparr was from the Upper World made his stomach turn. Knowing he wanted to return filled him with terror.

  With every step Sparr took, lightning struck the great hall of Silversnow, scorching the white walls with streaks of black.

  Sparr took a step onto the stair. “No one shall stop me from going … home!”

  Sensing his moment, Eric flung himself out from behind the shield. He rushed at Sparr and slammed into him just as the sorcerer went to leap upward.

  “Oooof!” Sparr groaned and fell to his knees. The lightning storm ceased for just an instant, but in that moment, Galen, Keeah, Julie, Neal, and the knights were on their feet again.

  “Everyone join hands!” cried Galen.

  Before Sparr could gather himself, their hands were grasping for one another. At once, Galen shouted, “Sparr, your days of terror are over!”

  With that, a huge blast of blue light shot from them — from all of them equally — and surrounded Sparr.

  “Agggh!” he groaned. “No — No — NOOO!”

  Ka-whooom! The room was showered with blue light. The floor quaked. The walls of Silversnow shook. The great hall was suddenly aflame with swirling light and smoke.

  Then everything went silent and still.

  When the smoke cleared, Sparr was gone. The Dark Stair was crumbled in ruins. Chunks of black stone lay scattered across the frosted floor.

  Peering into the castle, the few red Ninns who were left saw the ruined stairs.

  “Sparr gone!” they grunted, then turned and hustled back into their tower.

  Errk! Eeeek! It squeaked swiftly away.

  “Oh, my gosh!” said Keeah, stepping forward slowly. “Can it be? Is Sparr … is he … gone?”

  Galen strode over to the crumbled stairs, his eyes filled with wonder.

  “Hip-hip-hooray!” boomed Old Rolf. Lunk and Smee embraced each other and jumped for joy.

  All of a sudden, a huge hissing noise filled the air. Kahfoo, the fiery snake, surged into the castle hall, breathing fire and spitting venom.

  Galen turned, his eyes flashing. “Oh! And as for you!” He stormed over to the snake and, like a younger man in full control of his powers, he pulled back his arm and punched the hissing snake in the jaw.

  Fooom! The snake staggered back. Its large, flat head wobbled on its body. Then, as if it were in slow motion, it collapsed with a great hissing noise and tumbled down the castle steps.

  Then it happened.

  With Galen’s single blow, Kahfoo’s immense body magically and wonderfully transformed itself back into what it once was — a churning, splashing, crashing blue river!

  “Oh!” gasped Julie. “Can you believe it?”

  “Our river!” the Orkin chief cried out.

  Running to the edge of the summit, everyone watched as the brand-new river rushed and spilled happily down the rocks to the valley below. It flowed right into the riverbed that had stood dry and empty for so many years.

  The Ninn tower tipped over and became a leaky boat, floating toward the Lumpy village in the distance, which stayed safe and dry on the high banks.

  “Our river has returned!” the Orkin chief cheered. “We can rebuild our city and get back to what we are famous for!”

  Neal frowned. “That’s right. We never did find out what Orkins are famous for.”

  The blue creature beamed. “Why, cheese, of course!”

  “Cheese?” Keeah laughed. “Now I know where the marmets can go!”

  A moment later, the snow stopped falling, and all of Droon was spread out below the mountains. It was a world of glittery white hills, deep valleys, magnificent shining cities, and forests of dark trees dusted with snow.

  “My Droon,” said Keeah, her eyes glistening.

  “Our Droon,” said Julie. She turned to Eric. “Thanks for using the wand this morning. I’m glad I can keep coming back here.”

  “Me, too,” said Eric. Looking down, he saw the Wand of Urik glowing more brightly than ever. “Which reminds me. I left quite a mess back home. I need to talk to Galen about fixing it —”

  He touched the wand. The instant he did, he heard footsteps echo from the castle behind him.

  While the knights dragged everyone to start a victory dance, Eric returned to the main hall.

  He peered through the smoke rising from the ruined stairs, but saw no one.

  The wand nudged him again. He touched it.

  “Oh, my gosh!” he gasped.

  What he saw before him were not ruined stairs, but sleek, shiny ones, rising upward.

  And there, halfway up, was the sorcerer himself, leaping from step to step, fiery bolts of black lightning crashing down behind him.

  “What?” Eric let go of the wand and the stairs were ruined again and smoky.

  “It’s a trick!” he cried. “Some kind of spell! Everybody! Stop him! Sparr is getting away!”

  Galen and the children dashed inside.

  Clutching the wand, Eric sprang to the first shiny step. “Sparr tricked us. The stairs are still here! And he’s going up!”

  Galen went pale. “No, no, never! Follow him!”

  But Galen and the others were still caught in the spell Sparr had conjured. They moved so slowly, it was as if they weren’t moving at all.

  Eric bounded up, the wand’s purple glow forming a path through Sparr’s lightning trail.

  “The adventure of the wand!” Galen cried, reaching toward him. “Follow wherever it takes you, Eric! We are with you, we are with you —”

  Eric felt his heart racing faster than ever before. He turned to look once more at Keeah, Julie, and Neal. He saw everything in their faces he had hoped to find. They were with him.

  He was doing this alone.

  But they were with him.

  Gasping for breath, he raced up the steps after Sparr. Faster and faster he ran.

  As he neared the top, Eric spied a large jeweled
door opening slowly before the sorcerer.

  “The Upper World!” Eric cried.

  Sparr leaped to the top step and opened the glistening door. Laughing cruelly and coldly, he bounded through the door in a flash.

  “Eric! We will come for you!” yelled Keeah.

  Breathlessly, Eric leaped through the door after Sparr and entered a world of strange and golden light.

  Clank! Plong! Eric Hinkle swung his curved fighting stick at the five-headed, seven-armed beast in the nasty dark dungeon.

  “Grrrroooo!” the creature snarled. In six huge hands it swung six giant clubs. In the seventh hand, it held … Princess Keeah!

  “Help!” she screamed. “Save me, Eric!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this!” said Eric calmly. With one swift jerk of his stick, he forced the beast back and pulled Keeah to safety.

  “My hero!” she cried.

  “Thanks, but we’re not out of the castle yet.” Taking off at a run, Eric whisked Keeah through a series of dark hallways, leaped across a burning bridge, and swung on a chain across a pit of serpents.

  “The gate is bolted!” cried Keeah, her golden hair flying as they raced to escape.

  “No problem,” he said. “Watch this —”

  Even jumping down stairs three at a time, with the princess on his arm, Eric sent a perfect stream of blue sparks from his fingertips.

  Zzzing! The gate flew apart, and they were suddenly free, outside under a pink sky with wispy purple clouds. All around them crowds of people were calling out, “Hooray, Eric! You did it. Three cheers for the greatest hero ever!”

  And that was the moment when something in Eric’s mind reminded him that he was sleeping.

  “It’s a dream,” he mumbled to himself, turning over on his side. “It’s only a dream….”

  It was a dream. Eric knew he was at home in his bed, fast asleep. But he also knew where he was in the dream. It could only be one place.

  The land of Droon.

  Droon was the mysterious and secret world he and his friends Neal and Julie had discovered one day under his basement stairs.

  It was a land of enchantment and awesome adventure. It was filled with strange places and creatures — some good, others not so good.

  Right now, Eric was dreaming about one of the good ones.

  “You saved me, Eric. Thank you,” said Keeah, smiling at him. She was one of his best friends in Droon and a young wizard herself.

  In the crowd nearby were Keeah’s parents, Queen Relna and King Zello. Next to them stood Galen, the greatest of all wizards, his white beard trailing to his waist, his old hands waving to Eric.

  “Cool!” Eric said to himself, searching the crowd. “Everybody came. Well, not everybody. I’m glad stinky old Sparr isn’t here!”

  Lord Sparr was the wicked ruler of Droon’s Dark Lands and an evil sorcerer of great power.

  Sparr was in the Upper World now — Eric’s world — lost sometime in the last five hundred years. A sorceress named Salamandra had taken his place in Droon. Jabbo, a plump little dragon who baked pies for her, had come to Droon, too.

  “Hooray for Eric the wizard!” people shouted.

  Eric smiled at that. Ever since a blast of Keeah’s magic zapped him, his fingertips sparked with blue light, and he could see visions of things that hadn’t happened yet.

  “Yoo-hoo, Eric! You go, dear!”

  “Huh?” He turned, surprised to see his mother cheering from the crowd. His father was there, too, and even his grandparents.

  “Cool dream,” he said, waving back.

  Whoosh! A golden door opened in front of Eric, and he entered a room filled with light.

  From the light came a voice. Eric … enter!

  It was a woman’s voice, soft and musical. It spoke in a whisper … far away … and quiet.

  Eric, come in. You are … one of us!

  He had heard those words before. Lord Sparr had once said to Galen that Eric was “one of us.” Since then, the kids had learned that Galen had two brothers. One of them was Urik, a great wizard and wandmaker.

  The other was Sparr himself.

  All three were the sons of a good and powerful wizard queen named Zara. Long ago, Zara had been kidnapped from the Upper World and brought to Droon.

  Strangely, it always gave Eric a mysterious ache to speak her name.

  But how Eric was “one of them,” no one knew.

  Now, as he neared the light, it seemed as if a hand, thin and white, was reaching out to him.

  Take the gift!

  Eric opened his own hand. “A prize? For me?”

  The one who strikes the wolf at noon,

  shall earn a secret wish in Droon….

  “You mean me? Is it noon now? What secret wish? Excuse me, but who exactly are you?”

  But the voice was suddenly muffled, and the great golden hall around him began to fade.

  “Wait! My prize, my dream!” Eric felt himself falling backward away from the hand. “Hey!”

  All of a sudden — kkkk-foom! — the light flashed and went out completely. The hand was gone, the light was gone, the room was gone.

  The air around him now smelled damp, and there was water … drip … drip … dripping … somewhere behind him.

  “Um, I think I liked my first dream better.”

  He was in a room made of strange, silvery stone, lit by a sort of smoky light from above. And there, huddled in a shaft of that light, was a dragon.

  But it was not the usual sort of dragon. This one was short and chubby and wore an apron smudged with purple and red stains.

  Fruit stains.

  Eric blinked. “Jabbo? … The pie maker?”

  It was Jabbo, the strange little dragon who baked pies for the wicked Princess Salamandra.

  “What are you doing in my dream?” asked Eric. “It was going so well, too. I was a big hero. I was going to get a prize —”

  But Jabbo wasn’t paying any attention. The dragon was murmuring softly to himself. “Well, now, look at this. Jabbo stares at the thing … and it stares right back!”

  Eric edged into the smoky light. “What do you have there? What’s staring back at you?”

  Jabbo held up a small shiny object.

  A blue flame seemed to flicker deep inside it.

  Eric gasped. He had seen the object before.

  It was a small gem called the Eye of the Viper. It was one of two identical gems that belonged to Lord Sparr. Jabbo had gotten hold of one just before he escaped from the Upper World into Droon.

  The dragon suddenly stood up. “Jabbo has decided. He doesn’t want to bake pies anymore! Not when he can have such … power! With this pretty jewel, Jabbo can rule over Droon!”

  Eric drew in a short breath. “Wait, no. Jabbo, I think that jewel is way too powerful for you. Too powerful for any of us. It can make your mind go a little nutty. Especially if Sparr still has the other one!”

  Eric had had the jewel for a short time himself, and it had played tricks with his mind. “I think we need to give it to Galen —”

  “These words,” said Jabbo, holding the gem to the gray light. “I wonder what they mean.”

  “Jabbo, let’s go find a nice kitchen for you to bake some pies in —”

  “Cha-go … Hakoth-Mal … kala-na-drem … esh-kee-tah….”

  “Okay,” said Eric. “Stop with the baby talk and give me the jewel —”

  Jabbo made a sudden gasping noise. Trembling, he pointed behind Eric.

  Eric’s blood turned cold. “Uh … I’m not going to like what I see when I turn around, am I?”

  Jabbo shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Man, I really liked my first dream better —”

  There was a sudden fluttering sound from the shadows — flit-t-t-t!

  “Wh-wh-wh-who’s there?” asked Eric, turning.

  He gasped when he saw it. It was a warrior in rust-red armor, standing upright like a man, but with the head of a wolf. Growing
from its back were two black wings.

  “Correction,” said Eric. “You’re not a who. You’re a what! And what exactly are you?”

  “He came from the jewel!” said Jabbo, suddenly delighted. “See! With the gem, Jabbo commands great warriors!”

  “Uh-huh, well, command him to go away.”

  “Jabbo doesn’t know the words for that.”

  “Try more baby talk!” said Eric.

  Klish-ang! Gleaming claws shot out from the creature’s hands. The beast flashed them across the air — shwee-shwee!

  Eric backed up. “Okay, put those things away before someone gets hurt. Someone like me!”

  Fwip! Its wings flicked once, and the armored creature sprang across the floor.

  “Come on now!” Eric cried, glancing around for a place to hide, but finding none. “It’s only a dream, right? I’m asleep. I’m dreaming. I can’t get hurt in a dream, can I? Can I?”

  Fwip! The creature sprang closer.

  It raised its terrible claws.

  Eric buried his head in his arms. “Nooooooo!”

  Shwee! Shwee!

  Text copyright © 2002 by Robert T. Abbott

  Illustrations copyright © 2002 by Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.

  SCHOLASTIC, LITTLE APPLE PAPERBACKS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First Scholastic printing, August 2002

  Cover art by Tim Jessell

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-41829-4

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.