by Tony Abbott
“Follow!” squealed Slyvor.
“Follow!” boomed Captain Grunto.
While Bludge and four other Ninns hid, the rest of their red-faced compatriots drew the beasts quickly across the red sand and into the far distance.
Leaving the tuskadon on the floor of the underdune, Julie, Keeah, Neal, Hob, the Hinkles, Kem, Bludge, and four Ninns met Mashta and her tiny people. They stood alone under the brightening skies.
“Those are good Ninns,” Bludge said of his fellow warriors. “Good men. Loyal and true. After such a long while, I am happy to be myself again.”
“Good for you,” said Empress Mashta. “And thank you for your help. We desert folk will inhabit the ancient empire of Koomba, lost no longer.”
The Sand Children cheered.
“With Kem’s help,” said the red-faced warrior, “our little band of five Ninns will reunite Lord Sparr with his long-lost past. We will turn him away from Gethwing’s power and break the Crown of Wizards forever!”
“Hooray for Bludge!” shouted the Ninns. “Our captain once more!”
Bludge bowed his head, then raised it. “Our first mission — to find Lord Sparr!”
“Rooo-rooo!” wailed Kem excitedly.
With that as their signal, Captain Bludge and his band raced across the sands with Kem at the lead, plotting Lord Sparr’s return.
Julie gave the silver vial to Keeah with a smile. “Hard to believe, but I guess we did it.”
“Ah, that reminds me,” said Empress Mashta. “Ahem …”
A Sand Child stepped forward, holding the velvet pillow they had seen before. On the pillow sat the young wingwolf’s claw.
“Julie, please accept this as our gift,” said the empress. “As a remembrance of how your abilities have helped us all today.”
“Really?” said Julie.
“Really and truly,” said Mashta.
Julie took the claw and bowed. “Thank you.”
“Does that thing over there mean it’s time to go home?” asked Mr. Hinkle. He pointed.
As the moon finally vanished in the brightening sky, the rainbow stairs shimmered into view. They looked brighter than ever.
“I guess we’d better get back,” said Neal. “So we can return ASAP.”
Mashta twirled her short staff in the air. “We have much work to do also,” she said. “After we restore Koomba, the Sand Children and I will gather bands of folk all across Droon. We must rise up against Gethwing. Jaffa City shall not be burned. We shall win!”
The little folk cheered again.
“We have work, too,” said Keeah. She turned to Neal and Julie. “With the fazool, we may find a way to cure Eric. We’ll solve Galen’s riddle and find the Moon Medallion. In the meantime, Hob, you and I will ride to Zorfendorf like the wind.”
“Do what you can for our son,” said Mrs. Hinkle, her eyes brimming with tears. “He means everything to us.”
Mr. Hinkle placed his arm around his wife and nodded. “We’re trusting in you.”
Keeah nodded firmly. “I won’t fail.”
“May Hob add that you are quite legendary,” said Hob, bowing to the Hinkles. “It’s been a pleasure to know you.”
Moments later, Keeah and Hob were riding swiftly across the red sands to Zorfendorf.
As Mashta and her Sand Children cheered, Julie, Neal, and Mr. and Mrs. Hinkle made their way to the staircase.
Halfway to the top, Julie felt a warm breeze drift across her cheek. It was unlike the desert breezes, and she knew what it meant.
In her mind’s eye, she saw a lanky figure run silently across a flat stretch of black ground. It was followed closely by two others just like it. All three had heavy sacks hanging over their shoulders.
“I see the Hunters!” she said.
But … where are they ?
Searching her vision, Julie realized she knew the place. It was the parking lot of her school. A moment later, the three figures slipped inside the school doors and vanished.
Quickly, she told Neal and the Hinkles what she had seen.
“The Hunters at our school?” said Neal. “Maybe they’re still there. Let’s go teach them a lesson. Let’s give them some kind of detention. Let’s expel them!”
“That sounds like a battle,” said Mr. Hinkle. “It’s lucky we’re on the job now. Bob said we’re legendary.”
“Hob, dear,” said Mrs. Hinkle, “and I think he was referring to me. Either way, kids, from now on, we’re helping you every inch of the way!”
Julie and Neal shared a look.
Oh, brother! Here we go again!
Click!
“And that’s why they call me Zabilac,” said Neal Kroger as the door of his elementary school swung open. “Genies can open most locks with a simple spell.”
“Break open most locks, you mean,” whispered his friend Julie Rubin, following Neal into the dark school. “This is so wrong.”
“Wrong, maybe,” said Mrs. Hinkle, mother of their friend Eric, slipping inside behind Julie. “But it’s the right thing to do.”
“Okay, who brought the flashlight?” Eric’s father asked as he quietly shut the door behind them.
The two children and two parents stared at one another in the dim light of the main school hallway.
“Don’t look at me,” said Neal. “I’m a genie, not a genius.”
“Never mind,” said Mrs. Hinkle. “A flashlight might give us away. We want to surprise the Hunters. Let’s move.”
The Hunters were a mysterious trio of Kindu tribesmen — tall and ghostly and evil — who had been sent into the Upper World by the moon dragon, Gethwing, to find something.
Or someone.
No one knew exactly what the Hunters were after. And that was what worried the children.
“Wait,” said Mr. Hinkle, pausing to listen. “Do you hear anything?”
Neal shook his head. “It’s pretty quiet.”
“Are they gone?” asked Mrs. Hinkle.
“Probably not,” said Julie. “The Hunters specialize in being quiet. Let’s keep going.”
As they tiptoed through the dark A-Wing hallway, Julie and Neal sensed that they were not alone in the school.
Since their last adventure, Julie had discovered that she possessed a unique third power. Besides being able to fly and change shape, she could now see visions of events from the past — the long past and the very recent past.
Minutes before, she’d had a vision of the Hunters breaking into her school. If they were still there, she and Neal — and Eric’s parents — would find them, try to discover what they wanted, and stop them.
Stop them? Really?
Neither Julie nor Neal knew if such a thing was even possible. But they had to try. Sending the Hunters to the Upper World was only one part of Gethwing’s vast evil plan.
Not long before, Eric had been wounded by a poisoned ice dagger. As he lay ill, the moon dragon cast a spell on him, drawing him out of his wounded state and into the person of Prince Ungast, a powerful boy sorcerer.
Ungast was Eric’s evil side and one of the “jewels” in Gethwing’s Crown of Wizards. The other jewels were the wicked Princess Neffu and the sorcerer Lord Sparr.
“Maybe Keeah and Max have already found a cure for Eric’s wound,” said Mrs. Hinkle as they turned the corner into B-Wing.
“I sure hope so,” said Neal. “We need him.”
“Droon needs him, too,” said Julie.
It certainly did.
Things were getting worse by the hour.
On the heels of Eric’s transformation into Ungast, their friend the wizard Galen had been spirited away on a journey by the mysterious genie Anusa.
No one knew if or when he would be back.
“Maybe the Hunters have already gone,” said Mr. Hinkle. “It’s just so quiet —”
Mrs. Hinkle stopped suddenly.
“Honey?” said Eric’s father.
Mrs. Hinkle stared at the fifth locker from the corner. “It’s … hi
s … ,” she murmured.
She stepped toward it and reached out, turned the combination lock until it clicked, then pulled open the narrow door. She covered her face with her hands.
“We’ll see him soon,” said Mr. Hinkle, his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”
Eric’s mother nodded slightly, then removed her son’s backpack from the locker. Inside, she found a crumpled lunch bag, a small notebook, and a thermos.
“I’ll keep these at home,” she said, slinging the backpack over her shoulder.
Creeeeek — thud. A nearby door closed.
“The gym!” Neal said. “Quietly …”
The friends crept down the hall.
Gently opening the gym door, they spotted one of the climbing ropes swinging back and forth, as if someone — or something — had just brushed against it.
“The Hunters are still here,” Julie said.
All at once, three shadowy figures raced across the gym floor toward a door on the far side.
“Cut them off!” shouted Neal. He jumped for the climbing rope and swung all the way across the gym. “Whoa!”
The three figures sprang to one side, and Neal crashed to the floor. “Owww —”
“Here I come!” Mr. Hinkle ran across the bleachers and helped Neal to his feet.
The ghostly figures whizzed past both of them to the far door.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” said Julie. She flew across the gym and blocked the door.
One Hunter breathed a command, and all three tore open the sacks they carried over their shoulders. The first unsheathed a short dagger and slashed the air in front of Julie. The second removed a spiked ball and sent it spinning through the air.
“You want to play ball?” said Mrs. Hinkle. “Two can play that game!” She grabbed a bag of basketballs and began hurling them at the Hunter menacing Julie.
“Vatosh!” the third Hunter hissed.
The spiked ball whirled at Mrs. Hinkle, narrowly missing her but knocking Eric’s backpack from her shoulder and scattering its contents across the floor.
“Hey!” yelled Mr. Hinkle. “That’s rude!”
Before Mrs. Hinkle could pick up the backpack, the third Hunter donned a pair of silver boots, took a step, and blurred out of the gym.
He was back in a flash. “Kethar —”
With one great leap, all three Hunters sprang to the high windows, where something glinted in the moonlight.
“He’s got a bomb!” Neal shouted. “Duck —”
“It’s not a bomb,” said Mrs. Hinkle. “It’s … Eric’s thermos!”
“What?” said Julie.
A moment later, the three figures had burst through the windows and were outside, dashing across the playground. The woods behind the school swallowed them in an instant. They were gone.
“Why did they steal Eric’s thermos?” asked Mrs. Hinkle. “That is just … strange.”
“I don’t know,” said Neal. “It was totally empty. I made sure of that a long time ago.”
Julie gazed at the place where the Hunters had been. There were watery footprints on the floor. “Guys, the Hunter in the silver boots must have left these. Let’s follow them.”
Together they tracked the prints from the gym down the hall to the school’s swimming pool and stared at the rippling water.
“How very odd,” said Mrs. Hinkle.
“And evil,” said her husband. “We need to plan our next move.”
“And I think we have to go to Droon,” said Neal. “Look what just found us.”
A black-and-white ball rolled across the wet tiles and stopped at his feet.
“The magic soccer ball followed us here,” Neal continued. “Julie, we’re needed.”
Twenty minutes later, Eric’s parents were pacing their kitchen floor and plotting while Neal and Julie hurried down the basement stairs.
“Bad things are piling up,” said Julie as they stuffed themselves into the closet under the stairs. “We need Eric and Galen back.”
“We’ll get them,” said Neal. “I mean, we’re an amazing team, right? Wizards, genies, magical powers? We can do anything. As a matter of fact, I’ve even come up with our own theme song. Want to hear it?”
“Uh …”
“Make way for Zabilac,” Neal sang softly. “His turban he will pack. From here to Droon and back. Amazing Zabilac! Do you like it?”
Julie turned to him. “How is that our theme song? It’s all about you.”
“I’m working on a second verse,” said Neal, tugging his big turban over his ears.
Julie sighed. “Keep working.”
She turned off the light.
Whoosh! The floor of the closet disappeared, and in its place stood the top step of a staircase leading down and away from the basement. The stairs gleamed with all the colors of the rainbow, as if light shone from every step.
“And here we go!” said Neal.
Droon’s golden sun peeked over the horizon as the two friends descended the stairs.
“We know this place,” said Julie, scanning the landscape below. “I see the plains south of Lumpland. Come on, hurry —”
But no sooner had they reached the bottom step than a giant coil of dust appeared out of nowhere and tore across the ground toward the stairs.
Julie frowned. “That storm looks like it’s coming straight for us.”
Neal looked over his shoulder. “I’d say we should run back up the stairs, but they’re already fading —”
The storm barreled faster toward them.
“Then just plain — run!” cried Julie.
Text copyright © 2009 by Tony Abbott
Illustrations copyright © 2009 by Scholastic Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.
SCHOLASTIC, LITTLE APPLE, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, October 2009
Cover art by Tim Jessell
e-ISBN 978-0-545-41849-2
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.