by Megan Atwood
He put his foot in the stirrup, took a deep breath, and swung his leg over Samson. The horse moved a little while he was swinging, but Peter landed with a thump on the saddle. Samson snorted. Peter was pretty sure it was an approving snort.
Peter could feel Samson practically vibrating underneath him. He took a deep breath and smelled the horsey smell, felt Samson shift his weight, and looked around from his new height.
Things looked pretty cool from up here. Peter patted Samson on the neck and looked at Lithliel and Kai. “I’m ready. Let’s go find this witch,” he said, holding on to the reins the way his horseback-riding instructor from long ago had taught him.
Kai grinned and said, “Finally.” He and Lithliel nudged their horses and they set off. Samson followed. At first, a zing of fear pinged through Peter when they started moving, but then he found the rhythm—the backward-and-forward movement, the feeling of the wind in his hair, the sound of hooves on dirt. There was nothing like this. He felt like he and Samson had been riding together forever.
They passed along a path in the forest, a lot like the path he and Sebastian had traveled down. Or had run down, really. But here the flowers were in bloom and the trees waved to them. There was a smell of earth after a rain, deeper in the forest, and of horses and flowers. Peter was reminded of the first time he saw the orchard—it all felt so magical to him.
Samson followed Lithliel and Kai without Peter’s even having to nudge him. Pretty soon the elation of riding a horse faded away a bit, and Peter remembered:
They were going to see a witch.
He really hoped she was nice.
CHAPTER 8
Something Familiar
Peter, Lithliel, and Kai rode for what felt like forever along the endless forest path. The trees loomed large and seemed ancient, and as much as Peter loved the forest, he was happy to come to a clearing.
He saw the cottage first, a few yards away, almost like it had just appeared. It looked a little like the Garrisons’ house, only a lot smaller and more cottage-y. It was surrounded by bushes and herbs and flowers of all sorts—Peter could smell something delicate and sweet. But the thing he most noticed was the shimmering. The whole cottage shimmered.
A tendril of smoke wafted out of the chimney. As Peter looked on, the smoke turned from white, to red, to pink, to blue. Suddenly, a pang of fear shot through him.
“Does she . . . ,” Peter started, but then lost his voice. He tried again. “Does she know we’re coming?”
Lithliel looked impatient. “Of course she does. She’s the witch.” She climbed down from her horse and said, “We can walk from here. It’s nice the witch is so close. Last time, I had to go to the bottom of the river.”
Peter did a double take. “What? What do you mean?”
Lithliel snorted. “Well, she doesn’t stay in one place, does she? She has to move around, otherwise she’d get no peace.”
Peter decided not to push it. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “But under a river?”
Kai started walking. “Well, she’s straight ahead now. Let’s go.”
They reached the cottage door, and Peter waited until Samson came to a complete stop and then climbed down. He still felt awkward about riding, but he didn’t feel scared at all. He took a minute to smile to himself—horses were actually kind of cool.
He tied the reins to a small wooden fence around the huge garden, patted Samson on the neck, and watched as Kai and Lithliel tied up their horses as well. The three of them looked at each other. Without saying a word, they walked down the path to the door of the cottage.
The smell of herbs was strong—Peter could smell mint and basil, some sort of flower, and an earthy scent that smelled heavenly. He instantly loved this place.
The door opened before anyone knocked. Peter said, “Hello?”
“Come in, come in!” said a voice that sounded a lot like Lizzie’s. Peter, Kai, and Lithliel walked in, and Peter got a good look at the girl in the purple robe.
Actually, she wasn’t a girl—she was a woman. But she looked young and had a sparkle in her eyes. She had pale skin and red hair, and she smiled hugely when she saw everyone.
“I’m glad your trip has been uneventful. I hope so, because from here on out, you will only have events.” She laughed and put a kettle on the stove. Peter saw that it was a stove exactly like the one in the cottage he had met Kai in. That felt like ages ago—lifetimes, even.
“Can I get you some tea?” the woman asked.
Peter nodded, and Kai and Lithliel said, “Yes, please.”
It occurred to Peter that he was standing in a witch’s house. Fairy tales and movies came rushing into his head. Were they in trouble? Here he was in a new world with new people. And he voluntarily had gone to a witch’s house. It occurred to him that that might not have been the brightest of ideas.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but are you . . . a . . . uh . . . good witch?” he asked. His voice sounded more uncertain than he wanted it to be.
The witch let out a loud, long, mirthful laugh. Lithliel shook her head, and Kai looked embarrassed. Peter once again felt shame. But he needed to ask—what if they were all in danger?
“Oh, dear. I see the propaganda has gotten to you. It’s not your fault, you darling boy.” The kettle began to boil and whistle. “You can call me Mariel, if that’s more comfortable than thinking of me as ‘the witch.’ ”
Kai whispered, “Peter, why would you ask that?”
Mariel answered, “Oh, Kai, don’t blame him. People have always been afraid of witches. They don’t understand, so they make up horrible stories. That’s in the other world, though. The world Peter is from. It takes a true soul to look past the noise of other voices and flashy things. It takes a keen heart to understand who a person really is. To listen to what a person is at their core.” She poured water into four cups and added sachets. Immediately, the cottage smelled even more strongly of mint and basil, and a hint of cherry. She handed a cup to Peter. “Take a moment, dear. Close your eyes. Listen to your heart. What is it saying about me?”
Peter closed his eyes. But he felt self-conscious and opened them again. “But what am I listening for?”
Mariel said, “You’ll know it. Take a deep breath. Be still. Listen to yourself.”
Peter swallowed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his mind go blank. After a few seconds, the thought of Mariel came into his mind. He felt warm all over; taken care of. He felt goodness. He smiled.
Then Lithliel came into his mind. He felt kindness, but ferocity, too. A heart of justice and righteous fighting.
Kai popped into his head. And he felt . . . nothing.
His eyes flew open. Mariel stared at him with knowing eyes. “Ah, excellent. I think you’ve heard what you need to hear, dear. Now come sit down at this table, you three. We have a strategy to discuss.”
Peter’s unease had come back, but now it was because he wasn’t sure what had just happened. Kai had been nothing but fantastic to him. Maybe there was something wrong with Peter that he couldn’t listen to his heart, as Mariel had said, and feel Kai’s essence.
Mariel began talking. “Peter will want to know what is happening, I imagine. So first, I will talk about Tiar. Does that sound good, Peter?”
Peter nodded. Kai sighed, and Peter heard the impatience in it. Lithliel began picking up knickknacks and examining them like they were treasures, but Mariel didn’t seem to mind.
“Tiar is a land of magic and elves, Peter, much different from your world. And unlike your world, there are many, many warriors. Like our Lithliel here.” Lithliel dropped a ceramic cat at the mention of her name but immediately caught it. She nodded, and Peter had to stop himself from smiling.
“But I’m the best warrior,” Lithliel said.
“That you are, dear,” Mariel said.
Kai said, elbowing Lithliel, “Only not good enough to kill the dragon.” He winked at her.
Lithliel smiled a l
ittle, but Peter could see that Kai’s remark had hurt her feelings. Kai seemed to be oblivious. Maybe Peter could mention it to him when they had a minute alone . . .
Mariel watched Peter and took a sip of tea. “It’s true. This dragon is more intractable than any we’ve had before. Even my magic and my words are useless against her. And she is demanding fifty elven tributes or else she says she’ll destroy us all. Which is why the Witch’s Council put out a call to another world for heroes. It seems this problem needs a different solution from what we can provide.”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “A call? Like, an ad somewhere? And what do you mean, heroes?”
Kai sat up straighter. “That’s where I come in. I heard the call and I waited for you in the cottage. You can help me slay this dragon.” He leaned over and whispered into Peter’s ear, “I’ve heard there’s a huge reward if we do it.”
It made sense—it seemed like Kai was familiar with this world. Like he was already a warrior here. He just needed a sidekick. Peter was used to being a sidekick—it was always Olive who saved the day. It was always Olive who spoke for them both and took charge. Peter could be a sidekick to Kai. No problem. He didn’t really care about a reward. But he could be helpful. Still, a part of him somewhere deep inside felt . . . disappointed. He wished Mariel hadn’t taught him to listen to himself. It just made problems.
Mariel was quiet for a moment, looking into her tea and sloshing it around in the cup. She had a strange look on her face, but then she said, “Yes, the call brought you both here. And there is a reward should you save the town. But first, you’ll need some background. You see, the dragon hasn’t always been a dragon.” She took a sip of her tea. “There are many reasons she grew into what she is and is threatening all. Your task is to find out why. When you find out why, you’ll find her true name. If you speak it to her, she will return to who she was. This is one way to solve this problem.”
Kai and Lithliel exchanged looks. “Or . . . we could just, uh, destroy her,” Lithliel said.
Mariel trained her eyes on Lithliel. “You could.”
Kai shifted in his seat. “I mean, she’s threatening people. She deserves to be slain. It’s that simple.”
But something in Peter twinged. Mariel had made it clear that there was more than met the eye with this dragon. He wasn’t so sure it was black and white. He felt like he should say something, but he couldn’t get out any words.
Everyone was quiet for a second. Then Kai said, somewhat impatiently, “Do you have a magic spell that will help put her to sleep? And allow us to kill her before she eats everyone? That’s why I’m here.”
Mariel got up and took her teacup to the small sink. “How you save people is up to you.” She bent down near the stove and pulled out a box. She opened it and took out a small bag filled with something. “I will give you this sleeping powder,” she said. “If you can get close enough to her to make the powder airborne, it will put her to sleep, and only her. And when she’s asleep, you can pierce her heart with a spear or arrow. But,” and she looked at Peter as she said this, “you may find you’ll want to take a different approach. Follow your heart. Listen to yourself. You’ll know what to do.”
Lithliel stood up. “Okay,” she said, a little too loudly. “We know what to do.” As if on cue, a loud roar rattled the windows in the cottage and shook the ground. “We should probably get going.”
Mariel gave Peter a big hug and said, “Good luck. I trust you’ll do the right thing.”
And with that, the cottage and everything around them disappeared, leaving them standing by their now-free horses and blinking in the sunlight.
CHAPTER 9
The Village
Another roar shook the ground. Far off in the mountains, a column of fire shot through the air.
That didn’t seem good.
Lithliel, Kai, and Peter all looked at each other. Peter said, “The dragon.” He walked to Samson, patted his neck, and climbed on. Kai and Lithliel climbed onto their horses too.
Peter asked, “How long until we reach the mountain?”
Lithliel shrugged. “Not long. We have to go through a village and then it’s a straight ride to there.”
Peter swallowed. He’d thought this would take a few days. Maybe even weeks. Every book he’d ever read told him the journey would be the long part. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see a dragon quite yet.
Kai’s expression was grim. “We’d better get going. We have the sleeping powder, we have a plan . . . No use waiting around. Hiyah!” He kicked his horse and took off. Lithliel grinned at Peter, and he could see her excitement glowing. As a warrior, she was probably really excited about this part. Peter, however, felt a little less than thrilled. But Samson shifted on his feet, clearly eager to go. So Peter nudged him, and they took off after Kai and Lithliel.
Cantering with a horse was much different from walking, and Peter’s fear returned. He pulled on the reins a little and Samson slowed down to a trot. But the trotting felt uncomfortable and Kai and Lithliel started to get smaller and smaller, so Peter took a deep breath, squeezed his legs together, and nudged the horse. Samson responded immediately. After a few minutes, Peter felt the rhythm of the canter and could match his body to Samson’s movement. He was amazed at how much could be communicated without saying a word. And at how much he remembered from horseback-riding camp. Samson was all power, and here he was listening to Peter. For the first time in a long while, Peter felt really heard—and he hadn’t said a thing.
In a short time, Peter saw the village ahead. Kai and Lithliel had stopped on a hill, and Peter and Samson soon joined them. The three stood and looked at the cottages below.
The village looked a little like Main Street in New Amity, only with thatched-roof cottages. It immediately made Peter feel at home. Without speaking, Kai nudged his horse forward, and they walked down the hill, Lithliel following, then Peter. As they drew near the first cottage, all three of them slid off their horses and began walking.
A person with a wheelbarrow waved as they came closer to the cottage. Peter saw that this was an elf, but an elf a little different from Lithliel. This elf was short and jolly-looking, wearing a green vest. Lithliel was tall and fierce-looking. As Peter looked down the road and glimpsed other elves, he saw that they were all fairly similar. They seemed to be a cross between Keebler elves and elves from The Lord of the Rings.
“Are these elves different from you?” he asked Lithliel.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. They look different?” Peter said.
She shrugged. “Do all humans look alike?”
Peter smiled. “No, we don’t.”
“So there you have it,” she said.
They reached the first cottage, and the elf with the wheelbarrow approached them. He looked a lot like Hakeem from New Amity. His wide smile and welcoming wave reminded Peter of Hakeem too.
“You’re here!” said the elf as they walked up to him. “You must be the warriors we’ve heard so much about.”
Peter blushed. The thought of anyone talking about him made him feel exposed. But also a little proud, maybe? Mostly like he hoped he wouldn’t let them down.
“I know you’re going on a long journey. Can I get you a pastry for the ride?” the elf asked. “Oh, and I’m Habrium.”
Lithliel grinned. “I’ve heard of you, Habrium the baker. And yes, I think we would all love a pastry.”
Habrium disappeared into his cottage and reappeared almost immediately, carrying three steaming, leaf-wrapped packages. He handed one to each of them.
He smiled at Peter as he took the pastry. “We all wish you luck. Mariel has said such good things about you. You’re Peter, right?”
Peter blushed again, but nodded. Habrium patted him on the shoulder. “This is a lot to take on. Be careful, okay?”
Peter nodded again, and because he wasn’t sure what to say, he took a bite of the pastry.
It was like nothing he�
��d ever tasted before. The bite seemed to spread happiness through his whole body. He looked over at Kai and Lithliel and could see they felt the same way as they took their first bites.
“This is amazing,” he said, unable to stop himself. He said it around the huge bite instead of waiting to swallow, and if Olive had been there, she would have smacked him on the shoulder. Suddenly, and from out of nowhere, Peter felt sad. He missed his sister and best friend. It seemed strange to be on this quest alone. Even if it meant that for once, he was able to make his own decisions. And to speak for himself.
“Thank you,” Lithliel said, and Peter echoed her. Kai said, “We have to get going,” and started walking.
Habrium grabbed Peter’s hand. “Good luck, Peter. All our hopes are with you. But please know—this dragon is the toughest to ever menace our land. Be careful. Take care of yourselves.”
Peter nodded. He tried to swallow his fear. The toughest dragon ever? That didn’t sound good. He hoped the other dragons were as tough as kittens.
They continued through the village, the smells of cooking food and burning iron reaching him. He saw a blacksmith’s forge ahead of them, near the market and toward the end of the road. As they walked, townspeople waved to them and cheered. The elves looked suspiciously like the people in New Amity: there was a Stella look-alike; an Annabelle; a Rachel and a Dinah and an Aaron, plus a tiny elf baby, as well as a Dani look-alike . . . He even saw a couple of elves who looked like Tabitha and Albert Garrison and a really dramatic-seeming elf who looked like Gloria.
“Am I in The Wizard of Oz?” he muttered to himself. The old movie was a favorite in his household. He suddenly felt like Dorothy.
“What’s that?” Kai asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “You should speak up. Did you say Wizard of Oz? Are there wizards here too, Lithliel?”
Lithliel shook her head. “We haven’t had a wizard here in over two centuries. Which isn’t horrible. I’ve heard they get irritated easily.”