“I remember one of you saying Tullah wasn’t ready for the magic, unleashing it would be devastating. What changed?”
“Ye changed,” said Needle.
“The Guardian of Sacred Things be very wise,” Bone added. “If ye unlocked the secrets, she knew ye’d be ready to unlock the magic.”
“Aye,” Needle agreed.
“You were in on her scheme all along?” Glory asked.
“No,” Bone said. “Speaking for myself, I still think ye be a lying stone-napping thief from the beginning to the end.” His mouth puckered. “Just because you be in the good graces of the Elboni now, ye being a Tullahn, who knows how long it shall last?”
“Aye,” said White Feather. “One has to be willing to sacrifice her wish in order to gain it. How’d ye figure that out, Rock Collector?”
“I didn’t. Just luck, I guess.”
“Regardless, ye have turned the Council on its head, giving them much to discuss. Ye be the talk of the universe at the moment.”
“I am?”
“Aye,” the star riders replied, nodding their heads, and talking rapidly with each other. She couldn’t make out what they were saying.
“Time for us to depart,” said Needle.
“But wait a second,” Glory said. “What do you mean about me setting Tullah on a strange new course?”
“Ready or not, magic has come to Tullah.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nobody seems to know exactly,” said White Feather as he drew an oval in the air. “A Tullahn holding the Nightburner signals the beginning of great change.”
The space inside the oval filled with glimmering blue waves. “We’ll be back.”
“Wait!” she held up her hands like a crossing guard. “I have so many questions!”
“And some things never change,” Needle winked. The star riders shared a knowing laugh at her expense.
“Until we meet again,” said Needle.
"Happy Father Winter’s Day!" Glory called out before they left.
The star riders paused, their eyes twinkling.
"Same to ye,” Needle said. One-by-one, they stepped through the shimmering doorway.
“I’ll be watching ye, Rock Collector,” Bone said.
The circle closed in on itself, leaving the night as it was before: quiet, cold and mysterious.
A minute later Grandpa Kracker came around the corner, and to Glory’s amazement, he was walking strong.
“Where's your wheelchair?” she hurried over to assist.
“Wheelchair? I'm old, but not infirm,” he said pushing away Glory’s well-intentioned hands as she tried to steady him.
Grandpa sat on the bench and Glory joined him. She had no idea where their relationship stood in this version of his life, but in the past, he’d been a loyal confidant. Glory got down to business because she was dying to talk to somebody trustworthy about everything that had happened.
“Grandpa, did you ever meet Budd?”
“Budd?”
“The Hoogula that lives in Queen's Cavern—huge and meaner than a badger on a bad day.”
“He has a name?”
“Yep.”
“If I would have known that, I’d have put it in my autobiography. S’pose it don’t matter. Nobody seems to want to read the darn thing.”
“And know what else I know?”
“What?”
“How to bind a Wybbil.”
Grandpa raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Nobody except a Wybbil knows how to bind a Wybbil, Glory. Your mom told me over the phone that you were having trouble talking. I guess not anymore. But, how is it you came to know about such things?”
“Well, I learned some on my own. And the other stuff I learned from you.”
“Me? I don't recollect.”
“We talked about it on the front porch just last week.”
“Poor kid.” Grandpa tousled her hair. “The accident at the cemetery scrambled your noggin something awful. We only just arrived.”
“It wasn't exactly an accident out there in the cemetery.”
Grandpa's head swiveled. He gave a scrutinizing frown then took her chin in his hand. “Your accident wouldn't have something to do with those Wybbils you were speaking with a minute ago?”
“You spied on our conversation?”
“Couldn’t make out a word they said, but I saw their ugly hides, that’s for sure.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“Nope.”
“Because you and Grandma had a run in with them in the mesa when you were kids?”
This time his eyebrows raised high. “What? How’d you know about that?”
“Like I said, you told me about it on the front porch not that long ago.”
“Uhhh,” Grandpa’s mouth fell open, but he didn’t get a chance to reply. The back door swung open and it was Aunt Martha.
“There you are, Dad.” Her voice softened when her eyes fell on Glory. “Hello, sweetie. I’m so glad to see you safe and sound. I’ve been so worried.” Aunt Martha’s voice got loud again. “Hey, Dad, did you hear the news? Rose is having another baby! If it's a girl, she's going to name her after me—Martha! Isn't that wonderful?”
Aunt Martha went back in, leaving the door open, not waiting for Grandpa Kracker’s reply. The woman reminded Glory of a bee that flitted from flower to flower, always abuzz about something, and never staying on one subject for long.
Strains of holiday music wafted to their ears from inside the house.
After a minute of absorbing the homey sights and sounds, and Aunt Martha’s news, Glory asked, “Did you ever see the Elboni Stone, Grandpa?”
“Nope. But the old-timers used to say if you rubbed it the right way it'd bring you good luck.”
“Aye,” Glory said, chuckling.
"Eh?” Grandpa titled his ear closer. “Come again?”
Mom appeared at the doorway, directing them inside with a wooden spoon. “Hello, Dad. It’s so good to see you.”
Grandpa nodded. “Good to see you too, my sweet and lovely Rose. I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks, Dad. Brrrr.” Mom hugged herself for warmth. “It’s so cold out here—how can you stand it?” Her eyes landed on Glory in her flannel shirt. “Where’s your coat, Gwo-wee?”
Glory’s shoulders straightened. Only George called her that. She stared wide-eyed at mom’s bulging abdomen. “M-mom,” she asked. “Why did you call me Gwo-wee?”
“Did I?” Mom giggled. “Must be the baby talking.”
Glory’s heart leapt. She couldn’t see George, but a smile of recognition spread from one end of her face to the other. Little brother was already here!
“Thank you, Great Elboni, thank you.”
She flung her arms around her mother’s waist, hugging her tight.
“The baby,” Glory said with conviction. “Will be a boy.”
Mom scratched her head. “You can’t know that.” She reasoned, gently peeling her away. “Nobody can. It’s too early.”
“Trust me, it’s like I already know him,” she persisted. “And his name is George.”
“Hmmm, George. That was your great great grandpa’s name—feels kinda right though, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.” Mom smiled and kissed the top of Glory’s head. “I’ll hate to disappoint your Aunt Martha.”
“She’ll get over it when everybody sees how perfect he is.”
Glory took Mom’s hand between her own, leading her like royalty to a place at the table, where a feast with all the trimmings was waiting.
Glory lingered beside the chair, watching in silence as the whole family took their seats. Music, pleasant conversation, and laughter filled the room. And Glory’s heart swelled with happiness because the magic of the Elboni was with them.
About The Author
C. Deanna Verhoff grew up in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Number four of five sisters, she remembers a house full of drama, but mostly it was a lot of fun. Although her sis
ters live far apart, they talk to each other almost every day, and get together as often as possible. Indiana University is her alma mater and she’s worked in various jobs—including retail, teaching, business and finance. Writing has been a hobby of hers for as long as she can remember. Currently, she lives in rural Ohio with her husband, two children, and The Hunger Dog, a black lab who will eat anything, including walls and ductwork.
~Once The Elboni Has You, It Never Lets Go~
STAY TUNED
Glory wants to enjoy her new and improved life,
but there is no rest for the holder of the Nightburner.
Glory Alley, Book Two
Cover Design by C. Deanna Verhoff.
May not be copied or reproduced in part or in whole without permission.
Release Date: To Be Announced
Visit author’s website and blog:
http://www.cdeannaverhoff.blogspot.com/#!http://cdeannaverhoff.blogspot.com/p/welcome-page.html
Or Facebook page:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/C-Deanna-Verhoff/106424996172224
Also available, Wakeland’s War, by C. Deanna Verhoff:
Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series) Page 30