by Tony Abbott
“Behold Tortu!” said Galen. “City of magic!”
Thwump! Thwump!
The great glum head of the turtle bobbed up and down as each foot slammed the plains, driving the city closer and closer to them.
“It’s …big …” Neal mumbled. “Real big.”
The shell, thick and polished and brown, was as wide and long as ten football fields.
Each foot was larger than their school.
The creature’s head was as big as an office building, and its two sleepy eyes were the size of satellite dishes. Soon the kids were in its shadow.
“This is so awesome,” said Eric, looking up.
Julie gaped at the underside of the shell. “Awesome, yes, but how do we get up there?”
“Max, if you please?” said Galen with a smile.
“At your service, master.” Max twitched his eight legs rapidly and wove a ladder of the strongest spider silk. “This should do it.”
With a single mighty throw, Galen tossed the ladder up. It hooked on the turtle’s shell.
“Grab hold,” shouted Keeah. “And up we go!”
Before the turtle lurched forward, they leaped to the ladder and climbed all the way to the top.
Clambering over the side of the shell, they saw a crowded city of towers and bridges, of clustered houses, of gates and turrets and arches and rooftops.
But the black walls of a palace rose up high above the rest.
“The palace, no doubt, of this fellow Maliban,” said Galen as they approached an opening in the walls.
“Within this city we will find only enemies,” said Max. “I can feel it.”
“Well said, my friend,” said Galen. “Tortu carries the worst of the worst on its back. Magic thieves, spell mongers, and common street magicians. They buy and sell — and make and steal — magic. Be watchful, everyone!”
They passed under the archway and soon were in the middle of a lively marketplace. The sun shone through bright-colored canopies, casting fantastic shadows on the turtle’s shell.
Julie smiled. “It’s like the mall of Droon!”
“The evil mall of Droon,” said Neal. “Look at those guys.” He pointed to a band of large, three-legged men in dirty rags and eyepatches. They were browsing at a stall displaying flaming swords.
“Three-legged hoolifans,” said Max, his eyes bulging. “They are magic thieves. They rob caravans of potions and spells. Terrible brutes!”
“Never mind them,” said Galen. “Look there.”
A strange tall figure in a dark green robe and hood peered around a nearby corner. Another ducked into the shadow of a doorway. Reddish eyes gleamed from the depths of their hoods.
“Not your typical shoppers,” said Julie.
“They are not shopping,” said Galen. “If I am right, they are spies for Prince Maliban. I especially do not like the way their eyes follow us so closely. Let us move on.”
The deeper they went into the market, the more the streets twisted and curved.
Passing through one alley, they saw an old man sitting cross-legged in his stall. His gray beard was wrapped around him like a sweater.
Before him was a carpet hovering in the air.
“Rugs crafted by Pasha himself, stolen while he slept,” the man called out. “Easy to fly. No experience necessary!”
“Flying carpets,” said Neal. “I want one —”
Eric and Julie pulled him along. In the next shop was what looked like a large blue cat. The cat puffed on a pipe and blew smoke rings that looked like the faces of those who passed by.
“Spell casters,” whispered Galen. “Charm stealers. Street conjurors. Pah! Every sort of common magic thief and swindler is in Tortu!”
The wizard swept angrily through the streets, his eyes straining, his ears listening for any sound of the imp Hob at work.
Before long they came to a place where the market split into two narrow but crowded alleys.
“Now we must spread out and be careful,” the wizard said. “Tortu is a dangerous place for those who don’t have evil on their minds. We must find Hob and be quick about it!”
Galen darted off down the alley to the right, with Max scurrying nervously by his side.
“Let’s be careful not to run into any of Maliban’s green-hooded spies,” said Keeah, looking into the crowds. “They scare me.”
Slowly they stepped into the crowded alley.
Passing a stall filled with giant brown urns of water, Neal nudged Eric in the arm. “I just heard somebody say there’s a bakeshop down here somewhere. Maybe Hob’s hungry after flying all the way here. I’ll check it out.”
“Stay close,” said Eric. He watched Neal sniff the air, then make a beeline to a nearby shop.
Eric was about to join Julie and Keeah when sunlight flickered in his face. He closed his eyes. In that moment, he saw something.
A tail. With sharp spikes running down it.
When Eric opened his eyes again, something was moving in the small space between two shops.
“Hel-l-l-lp … me-e-e-e-e!” said a voice.
“Who’s in there?” Eric said. “Are you okay?”
“Hel-l-l-lp me-e-e-e-e!” was the reply.
“Wait!” Eric shouted.
Something dark and thick and covered with scales slithered away between the walls.
Suddenly, Eric’s hands felt hot. He looked down to see them sparking more brightly than they ever had before. “Whoa, cool —”
When he looked back, whatever it was that he had seen was gone.
And his hands were normal again.
“Man, this is nuts. I can’t control this at all!”
He found Julie and Keeah in the street and told them what he had seen. “It was dark and creepy and had a tail with spiky spikes all over it.”
“Eeew,” said Julie, making a face. “Tortu is starting to scare me. That thing didn’t attack you, did it?”
Eric shook his head. “No. In fact, I think it wanted me to help it somehow. Then it disappeared.”
“Maybe we’ll see it again,” said the princess. “In the meantime, let’s keep an eye out for Hob.”
They pressed farther down the alley, listening for the sounds of the mask maker at work.
Eric turned to the princess. “Keeah? I wanted to ask you. What does it feel like to use your powers?”
“I’ve always wondered that, too,” said Julie.
Keeah smiled. “First, I go to a quiet place in my mind that Galen taught me about. It’s like a little room, all my own. Only when I concentrate can I really control my powers. If I’m upset or scared, I can make mistakes. Big mistakes.”
“No control,” said Eric. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way. I mean, about other stuff —”
“Whoa!” Neal was suddenly racing toward them, looking scared.
“What’s the matter?” said Eric. “Couldn’t find the bakeshop?”
Neal shook his head frantically. “Turned out to be a snake shop. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is … them!”
Two young girls with orange faces, long silky gowns, and high turbans on their heads burst from the snake shop. They giggled and pointed at Neal. “Yellow hair! Oooh!” They raced over.
“Hide me!” Neal squealed. “They keep touching my hair. Now I know what it feels like to be a pop star. And I don’t like it!”
Neal jumped behind Julie, tripped over a big urn of water, and slid behind a curtain. The two girls flew past the shop. But the big urn teetered and wobbled and pitched and then tipped over.
Splash! Pink water spilled everywhere.
“Hey!” growled the shop owner, a man with a tiny head nearly covered with blue hair. “That’s magic water from the Kubar River. It cures illness! Now I gotta mop it up!” He stormed off.
“Does it cure Nealness?” Julie asked, looking at the pink water spilling over her sneakers. “My shoes are all wet!”
Neal peeked out from behind the curtain. “Look at it this
way. At least your shoes won’t get a cold.”
“No, but I will. My feet are soaked —”
“Hey, you, out of the way!” boomed a voice.
Keeah jumped aside as a large wooden cart rumbled up the alley, nearly running her over.
Marching on each side of the cart were six green-hooded guards. Beneath their hoods their red eyes blazed.
“Magic boots for Prince Maliban!” shouted the driver. In the back of the cart were dozens of finely made velvet boots of different colors.
“Make way to the palace!” said another guard, pushing Julie away roughly. When he did, a pair of green boots bounced out of the cart.
“Hey, a pair of your boots fell out,” said Julie.
“Be gone!” the guard snapped, glaring at her with his deep red eyes. “We’re on our way to the palace!”
“Green meanie,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be so rude!”
The cart wound away through the alley.
Eric picked up the boots. “Look, Julie, it’s almost like they knew your sneakers were wet.”
Julie took off her shoes and put on the boots. “Magic boots, huh? I wonder what they do.”
Neal grinned. “Keep your feet magically dry?”
“Something isn’t right here,” said Keeah, still watching the cart on its way to the palace. “Why does Maliban want magic boots?”
“Maybe he likes to dance,” said Neal.
Keeah shook her head. “Let’s just find Hob.”
But at that moment, Max came swinging down from the rooftop above, huffing and puffing and squealing and squeaking.
“Hob!” he said. “Hob, my friends! Hob! We found him! And his mask! Follow me at once!”
Max led the children quickly through one crowded alley after another. Then they heard it.
Tap … tap. Clink … clink.
“Up there!” Max chirped, pointing to a small two-story building just ahead of them. “It’s Hob at work over the basket shop! Galen is already there!”
The spider troll scampered up the wall while the kids raced up a set of stairs and across the roof.
They entered the upper floor by slipping through a small window. In the dim light, they spotted the wizard. He put a finger to his lips and motioned them over to a wall of baskets.
Tap … tap.
“Look behind here.” Smiling, Galen pushed a basket aside. Light flickered out from behind it.
Keeah peered in, then gasped. “It’s Hob! In his workshop. Everyone, look!”
Inside was a small room with a workbench in the center. The bench was piled high with tools and lit by thick candles. Hunched over the bench was what appeared to be a large, spotted dog.
“The imp himself,” whispered Max. “Imps are usually trouble and none more so than Hob!”
“But he’s so cute!” said Julie.
Hob was cute in a way. Thick spotted fur covered him from snout to curly tail. He sported short rear legs, but his front paws were long and slender, almost like hands, and always moving.
The imp gulped and snorted and sang as he worked. “Hob, Hob, good at his job! Good at his task, to make a mask. Make a mask as fine as he can. A magic mask for Maliban!”
Hob seemed a fuzzy ball of energy. He hunched over the bench for a moment, then zipped up to the highest shelf, grabbed a tool, and leaped back to his work again.
But it was when he left the bench that everyone saw what he was working on.
A terrifying golden face. A mask of terror.
Jutting out the front were the jaws and teeth of an angry beast. Red jewels were its eyes. Its fangs were gold, hammered as sharp as knives.
With one curious tool, Hob carved a series of multicolored symbols onto the edges of the mask. When he finished, the mask began to glow a deep red.
“This mask of Hob is no mere trinket,” whispered Galen. “This is a mask of … dark power!”
“Who is Prince Maliban?” Keeah wondered.
Galen could wait no longer. Bursting through the wall of baskets, he sprang into the workshop.
“Hob!” he cried. “We have found you!”
The imp froze where he sat. His tools clattered to the floor. “Hob knows that voice. Hob doesn’t like that voice. That voice — is Galen’s!”
He whirled around on his rear legs, his front paws clutching the mask before him. “Galen and his troop of junior wizards! But Hob doesn’t want to go back to the firefrog mountain. No, no!”
“We shall take you,” said the wizard. “But first, tell us. Where did you learn these magical symbols?”
The imp chuckled darkly. “In the forests of Jabar-loo,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “Hob saw palaces there. Palaces of Goll!”
“Goll was destroyed centuries ago,” Galen snapped. “I cast the first flame onto the evil empire myself. Goll is nothing but broken stones now.”
“And yet Hob felt their power!” he said, trembling with excitement. “Hob learned Goll’s magic words. They fill Hob’s masks with power!”
Keeah stepped forward. “Why does Maliban want a mask with such powerful magic?”
Hob buffed the golden mask with his furry arm. “Well … he can’t go around with his face like that, can he?”
“What’s wrong with his face?” asked Eric.
Hob chuckled. “Perhaps you’ll find out! Now, Maliban needs his mask. Hob must go. Bye!”
Squealing with delight, he leaped through the window and out into the market.
“After him!” shouted Keeah.
Eric and Neal jumped out the window and across the roof to the top of the next shop.
“He’s in the alley!” Julie shouted behind them.
Galen and Max scrambled down to the street, but Hob flashed by one stall and grabbed a pawful of tiny silver stars and moons. He tossed them at Galen. They began buzzing around the wizard’s head like a swarm of bees.
“Just a little magic of Tortu!” the imp said.
While Max and Galen swatted the buzzing stars and moons away, Hob chuckled merrily and disappeared into an alley.
“Oh, no you don’t!” cried Keeah. “Stop him!”
As if on a tightrope, Eric scampered across a balcony ledge and slid down an awning to the ground. “I’m coming!” he said. “I’m —”
Suddenly, he heard it again. The strange voice —
“Hel-l-l-lp me-e-e-e-e!”
Eric screeched to a stop, swung his head both ways, then darted into an alley between a wand maker’s stand and a flying-lizard shop.
The sun was beginning to set and the alley was darkened by blue shadows. Eric ran halfway to the end, then stopped.
The voices of his friends seemed to fade. Then he saw it. Clutching the wall at the corner was what looked like a hand, except it wasn’t a hand. It was a claw, shriveled and twisted with thick curved tips instead of fingers.
“Oh, my gosh,” Eric mumbled.
The skin on the claw was black and scaly, but with pale blotches all over it. It was a terrible thing to see. And only one word came into Eric’s head.
It wasn’t a Droon word.
It was a plain old Upper-World word.
Monster.
Then, as Eric watched, the claw whipped around the corner, carving lines into the stone of the building. There was a brief slithering noise, then all was quiet.
“Holy cow,” whispered Eric.
Julie darted into the alley. “Eric, come on, we need you!”
Eric ran back to his friends and saw Hob clambering up an awning. The imp lurched across another roof, still clutching the golden mask.
“Hob runs away,” the imp squealed. “He lives to run another day!” In a flash he was gone.
“We’ll corner him in the next alley,” said Keeah, who was still following the action from the rooftops. “Julie, jump up and grab my hand!”
Julie did jump toward Keeah. But instead of joining her — boing! — Julie leaped over the roof, over the building, and over the street, landing somewhere in
the next block.
Eric and Neal nearly crashed into each other.
“Julie just jumped over the street!” said Eric.
“I guess we know what kind of magic boots they are,” said Keeah.
“That was so cool!” said Neal. “I want boots like that!”
Boing! Julie bounced back to the street again. Her mouth was hanging open. “I just saw Hob. He’s fast but I think I can catch him —”
Boing! She bounded over two more buildings, then back again. But when she landed —
“Halt!” The little street suddenly filled with Maliban’s spies. They rushed to surround Julie.
“Green meanies!” said Neal, racing down the street with Eric. “You leave Julie alone.”
The spies glared at them. “This girl has magic. Magic goes to Maliban. We take her to Maliban!”
“I don’t think so!” yelled Eric. He started running at the spies. His hands felt hot and he didn’t care who saw them. He didn’t care what happened. They were trying to take Julie away.
“Eric, no!” said Keeah.
But he only ran faster at the tall men, thrust out his hands, and aimed his fingers at them.
“Take that!” he yelled.
“Take what?” growled one of the spies.
Eric stood there, flicking his fingers at the hooded men and watching as nothing happened.
His fingers were just fingers.
“Be gone!” said the guards. “Or face the anger of Maliban!”
The guards picked Julie up and whisked her away. In moments, she was lost in a crush of carts and wagons heading to the palace.
“What have I done?” Eric gasped, still staring at his hands. “I was going to stop those guys. With my powers!”
Keeah patted him on the shoulder. “Eric …”
“No, really!” he protested. “I have powers! I really do! At least, I did —”
“Hey, I know, pal,” said Neal. “I wish I could do something, too. I’d love to zap those green meanies. But there are hundreds of them. We’d end up just as captured as Julie is. Maliban would probably lock all of us up in some smelly dungeon. With no food!”
Eric felt completely helpless. What if his powers were gone for good? What if Maliban hurt Julie? And all because he gave her the magic boots!