Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap

by Mark Caldwell Jones

  Opal did her best to catch up, reading at a furious rate, until it all blinked off. Professor Fromm placed his hand flat over the disc and the spinning stopped. He retrieved it from the air and placed it back in his jacket.

  “Now, I believe that will end our lesson for today,” he said. “Does anyone have any questions before we are dismissed?”

  Total silence.

  “Not even you, Ms. Summerfield?” he inquired, giving Opal a squinty, annoyed side look, as if to say, don’t ask another question.

  “No sir! Thank you,” she said.

  “Excellent! Well students, you are all dismissed!” He smoothed back his white mane, combed his fingers through his wild beard, tucked his wrinkled hands in his patchwork jacket, and strolled barefoot out of the classroom into the hall. He left dirty footprints in his wake.

  “Have a good day, professor!” Opal called after him.

  Professor Fromm glared back, grunted a disapproving humph, and continued on his way.

  Opal turned to the empty desks surrounding her. “Can you believe this guy? I hope we have a substitute tomorrow! See y’all later.”

  She giggled, waved to her imaginary classmates, and ran out of the room.

  67

  It was dusk and most of the shop owners in the merchants’ quarter of Fallmoon Gap were locking up. Opal checked off her tiny list. She had a small basket with two bars of lye soap. One scented with lavender and the other with mint. She had picked up a pair of blue wool socks from the clothier and a bottle of Red’s Wizard Oil Liniment. Eltheon had suggested it for all the scrapes and cuts she was getting from her training.

  She had just left the confectionary with a bundle of (thank goodness they had it!) Blackband’s Legless Lizard Licorice and was walking past Durham’s Cooper Shop when she saw him—the lone rider. The man she had seen with Jakob—the one her necklace had warned her about.

  At least, that was her immediate thought. The mysterious man trotted his horse down the main road toward the cathedral. The stranger now had a small wagon and a package wrapped in red burlap tied to the back of his horse. His face was cloaked. When he passed, Opal ran after him. She darted from one hiding spot to the next, trying to keep up and watching the man carefully.

  He rode up to the entrance of the cathedral just as the last bit of daylight dissolved beyond the city walls. He tied off the horse, unfastened the package, and walked into the cathedral.

  Opal was compelled to cipher around. She followed him in, shadowing him all the way to the Courtyard of The Honored. The man walked idly through the garden, under Opal’s grand window, and over to the great Crystal Tree.

  He stopped and seemed to admire it. She couldn’t restrain herself. She dropped her packages in some of the shrubbery and approached him from behind. She had no weapon, so she clutched her necklace with one hand.

  Wake up Agama!

  She slinked, quiet as a cat, right up behind the man.

  “I can’t take my eyes off of it either. Especially at night. My room is just above it,” she said.

  The man did not turn around. He simply continued admiring the tree and its crystal blooms as they twinkled to life.

  She pressed him. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” she said, stepping a bit closer.

  “It’s an extraordinary thing,” he said pointedly. “So much magic. So much power.”

  “Is this your first time in Fallmoon Gap?” she asked. She moved to his side trying to get a look at his face. Opal imagined the conversation as an interrogation.

  “It’s not, but I’ve been away. It’s good to be back. And it’s even better to know you made it here, Opal.”

  The man pulled his hood back, exposing his face.

  “Luka!” Opal screamed.

  “Hello, Opal,” he said serenely. A small grin broke across his face.

  Opal wrapped her arms around the young man and gave him a long embrace. He didn’t return her hug with the same enthusiasm, but she couldn’t help it. She surprised herself at how excited she felt.

  “I can’t believe it! I thought that witch had killed you,” she gushed. “How did you get away?”

  “A very long story. We’ll save it for another day. I’m sorry that I let her separate us that night. I’m ashamed of myself. I was trained better. I should have known,” Luka said.

  “What does it matter—you’re alive! I can’t believe it!” She said. She gave him one more awkward squeeze, then backed off.

  He stared at her for a long beat.

  Does he want to tell me something?

  Then he quickly turned away.

  “I’ve been to Liberty Creek. The people there have sent something to Fallmoon Gap as a gift. Would you like to see it?” he asked. He presented the bundle to her.

  “Of course!”

  Luka untied the strings of the package and unfurled the burlap in one big sweep. A crystal disc of great beauty shimmered before them. It was carved from pure quartz and was flawless, like a giant diamond with hundreds of intricate facets.

  “What is it? It’s marvelous!” Opal exclaimed.

  “A tribute to a great heroine of the Veil,” he said. “A communion crystal, created by Liberty Creek artisans, to honor your mother, Sanura Windfar.”

  It glittered in the moonlight like a star. To Opal, it seemed almost more stunning than the crystal blooms twinkling above her.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “It’s amazing! I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a bit startling.”

  “Your mother was a great woman. Her death was a terrible loss to us all. My people heard of your return to Fallmoon Gap and immediately began working on this, to honor you both. It is to be dedicated in this garden and placed within her marker.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be able to see it from my window,” she said, even though she wasn’t sure she did want to see it. “Thank you, Luka.”

  “No need to thank me. Thank your mother. She is the hero—at least she was.” “What do you mean by that?” Opal was immediately put off by his change in tone.

  “What I mean is that trouble is coming. We are going to need new heroes, like your mother was before.”

  “What do you know?”

  “The conjurer that attacked us in the forest is gathering an army. She intends to attack Fallmoon Gap again. This time, she means to finish what she started. I think she has the power to do it.”

  “That’s horrible,” Opal said. She felt riled up for unexplainable reasons.

  “Amina is obsessed with revenge. She no longer wants to just attack—she’s determined to end us all. She wants to destroy the entire Veil.”

  “Somehow I knew she’d be back for another round.”

  “This time I’ll make sure you’re safe. I promise.”

  Opal reached out to him for another hug, and this time he pulled her close and hugged her back. His affection was gratifying.

  The crystal was extraordinary, but holding Luka was by far the better gift.

  68

  In the days following Luka’s return, Opal threw herself into training with Eltheon. The lithomancy vision—of fighting with the mysterious bad guy—haunted her, and it made her more eager to master the art of self-defense. Of course, Amina the Conjurer was her greatest concern.

  It didn’t take a wizard to figure out that coming after Opal would be a good way to settle the score and to get the powerstone that had stopped her before. Amina could fulfill her evil plan in one great strike.

  Eltheon helped Opal delve into the deeper mysteries of the Agama Stone. As it stood, she had learned from Jakob and Eltheon the basic magical powers the stone was capable of manifesting. But the more Opal learned, the more questions she had. Understanding the magic was one thing; controlling it was another.

  Eltheon borrowed a dusty old tome from the cathedral’s library. It was called The Great Compendium of Veilian Magic & Other Curiosities by Elder Wattman Wormhold.

  The book was massive. It could
only be moved by magical means, and it was not very cooperative. The book would periodically disappear and reappear in odd places of the cathedral, like a senile relative.

  Opal took to copying passages about the Agama Stone into her tattered composition book. She created a new section after the one that contained Sugar Trotter’s lessons.

  The most helpful notes were detailed with pictures. She drew a rainbow and ascribed a power to each bend of the bow. She scribbled in notes about the color, the gemstones, and the powers that she now understood. So far, she had:

  White – Quartz Crystal - Apportation: travel using the Veil.

  Black - Black Opal - Unknown ??????

  Orange – Tiger-eye – Premonition: the power to sense danger.

  Green – Emerald – Elementalism: the power to manipulate nature.

  Indigo – Azurite – Lithomancy: the power to divine the future.

  Violet – Amethyst – Regeneration: the power to heal or restore.

  Opal spent a considerable amount of time studying two powers unique to the Agama Stone. One was called immolbution. Opal sounded it out: em-mole-bu-shun.

  This was a strange, destructive power. Eltheon called it: revenge-by-fire. Opal was familiar with this deadly power and its corresponding ruby flames. She had, unfortunately, seen the magical fire-spiders melt a Hood and start the fire that burned down Abner Worthington’s house.

  The stone’s other unique power was called paladintion (pal-a-den-shun). It was explained as righteous protection, and it manifested through the blue of the sapphire gemstone. When the Stone Wielder was in danger, the stone produced a powerful burst of protective energy. When the threat was gone, so was the magic. This is what had saved her from the wereboars and from Sheriff Kerr Elkins and his huge knife.

  Opal added these to her rainbow drawing:

  Red – Ruby – Immolbution: destructive power. !!DANGER!!

  Blue – Sapphire – Paladintion: the power of magical protection.

  Wattman Wormhold wrote that these two powers were some of the most difficult to understand, and that they were even more difficult to control.

  The history of the stone was full of stories explaining how immolbution had been misused. The history also taught that it was best to avoid that power totally, by restraining one’s own anger and desire for revenge. The blue-power of paladintion, was a more appropriate area to master.

  In short, Opal would need to develop her own moral self, and master her own emotions, if she was going to have any semblance of control over the stone’s dangerous powers.

  This proved to be the greatest challenge to Opal. She realized that she had never really cared to control her emotions. She had never really considered her moral attitudes.

  She assumed that what she felt should be expressed, and that what she desired to do should be acted upon. She put her choices in neat boxes called good or bad, but those judgments were based on how well her decisions had worked, not how they compared to a greater ideal, like good and evil.

  To master the Agama Stone, Opal realized, she would have to become more serious-minded—but that was about the time she realized that she had a huge crush on Luka Turner.

  I can’t get that boy out of my mind! Opal thought.

  “Tell me about it,” Eltheon said with a laugh. The two girls were eating. Tirian and Luka sat at the table across from them. “I’m not even trying to read your mind, and it’s coming through loud and clear.”

  At first she thought that it was just the feeling of happiness that he was alive. But after a month of having him back in Fallmoon Gap, it seemed her feelings had grown more intense.

  It was obvious to Opal that crushes and serious-mindedness just did not mix. All she could think about was Luka.

  “Well, you could just tell him,” Eltheon said.

  “Right—are you absolutely nuts?” Opal stuffed a piece of apple in her mouth.

  The two girls sat at their regular lunch table discussing the situation. At the next table, Luka laughed it up with Tirian.

  “What about the barn dance?” Eltheon asked.

  “The what?”

  “The Fallmoon Gap barn dance. We have it every year. It’s a pretty big deal,” she said.

  “I don’t dance, and I’m sure as heck not going to ask a boy to a party.”

  “What?! You’re the great Opal of the Ozarks, Stone Wielder, Warden of the Agama Stone, not to mention Wereboar Slayer!” Eltheon snorted milk through her nose as she said it. “You can’t ask a boy to a dance? What sort of crazy nonsense is that?”

  “Shut up, girl!”

  “Well, I know for sure that you have no competitors. He’s too intimidating for the other girls. Everyone avoids him. If you don’t ask, he probably won’t go at all.”

  “Hmmm—why don’t you just order him to ask me,” Opal laughed. “You outrank him don’t you?”

  “Not a bad idea!” Eltheon said.

  The two girls pretended to be interested in their food while they snuck glances at Tirian and Luka. They continued to scheme.

  69

  Opal decided that Ms. Trudy Freeg was the one adult who might be able to help with her boy troubles. She had a standing invitation to visit her home and decided it was time to take her up on it.

  The day she finally did, her teacher seemed to be in a dark mood, and the weather seemed to reflect that. In spite of the beautiful sun shining through the broad sky, a single dark cloud hovered over Freeg’s quaint cottage. She stepped up to the door and into a light sprinkle of rain. The rain appeared fixed in place and she could step in and out of it quite easily. The door opened by itself. Opal shrugged at the strange rain cloud and dashed into the tiny Victorian.

  The cottage was bright and cozy. It was full of quirky furniture, gilded cages with small exotic birds, strange plants with long vines, and a massive, cluttered collection of books.

  The interior seemed to add depth as Opal walked further in—another thing she decided to ignore. Ms. Trudy sat in a corner at a small table, furiously binding an enormous book.

  “Hi, I’m here!” Opal announced as the door closed behind her.

  “Oh Opal, I almost forgot about your visit today. Please come in. You want some tea?” Ms. Trudy didn’t look up from her project. She was sewing with a long leather thread, closing a gap in the binding, giving a snug cover to the book.

  “No ma’am. I just wanted to visit. Maybe find a new book to read?”

  “Please, look around while I finish this.”

  Ms. Trudy turned the large volume over with a violent smack. She raked the creases out of the cover with her long painted nails. The book seemed to react with a shudder.

  Books in Fallmoon Gap are very strange, Opal thought.

  She kept sneaking peeks at her busy teacher as she browsed a tilted stack of curious novels.

  She had seen a book that big in the Worthingtons’ living room. It was displayed prominently on their antique tea table. Beatrice called it the Worthington family bible. It contained a middle section with the Worthington family trees—names of all the previous mean people that had owned that horrible house.

  “Is that your family bible?” Opal guessed.

  “No dear, this is a pathetically sad tale of lost love. A tragedy really.” She started weeping.

  “Are you okay, Miss Trudy?” Opal rushed to her side as the woman curled over in her seat.

  “Oh my yes, it’s just so painful when romances go bad,” she sobbed. “So, so sad.”

  She wiped her tears away and fixed a curl of hair that had fallen out of place. She stood up, straightened her dress, and calmed herself with a few deep breaths. She looked more resolute.

  “Oh well, let’s get this on the shelf with the others. Can you help me, please?”

  Opal grabbed the side of the book and immediately yanked her hand back as if pricked by a thorn. Something about what she had touched disturbed her: the book seemed to have a pulse.

  “Oh yes, thank you Opal. I almost forgo
t to buckle that.”

  Ms. Trudy pulled a worn leather strap around the entire volume, and with great effort, buckled the belt one click above where it had obviously been notched many times before. Opal thought she heard a groan as Ms. Trudy strained to cinch it. When the struggle was over, she patted the cover.

  “There, all secure now. Wouldn’t want that story to get out. Too many delicate hearts are at risk. But not anymore!” She said with a high-pitched squeal of delight. A bit embarrassed, she placed her hand on her mouth to muffle her conspiratorial giggles.

  “Ms. Trudy, this book—it’s WARM!” Opal gasped. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the book now, but under polite obligation, she helped Ms. Trudy get it to the shelf.

  “Oh yes,” she said, lifting up her end. “Never mind that. It’s warm, but the story within will turn the most radiant heart cold.”

  What the heck does that mean? Opal wondered as she tried to lift the heavy book with the tips of her fingers.

  “Dirty scoundrel,” Ms. Trudy muttered under her breath as they slid it onto the shelf.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Opal said. “What’s it made of?” She asked, noticing there were six other similar volumes.

  “Oh that. It’s skin,” Ms. Trudy said nonchalantly.

  “Oh, you mean like deer or cow leather?”

  “No dear, it’s human. Now how about that cup of tea?”

  Opal’s mouth dropped open as Ms. Trudy wandered off into the back of the house. There was the clanking of china, the steaming of a kettle, and the violent percolation of revulsion in Opal’s mind. She felt ill.

  What in the heck?

  She noticed that the six volumes had long titles down the spines, which had bumps and ridges like a real spine. Unbelievable!

  The name of the first volume was “How Jeremiah McCoy Stole the Heart of the Fairest Maiden in Fallmoon Gap.”

  The title was in an exquisite script. Opal could hardly read it because of its great flourishes. As she tried to decipher what she saw, she noticed that the book moved—or rather, it expanded and contracted like a blacksmith’s bellows. In fact, all six moved in the same way.