by Tony Abbott
“Rooo!” Kem howled, and he jumped into the saddle with his master.
“Time flies, and so must I,” said Sparr, Urik’s blossoming wand sizzling in his hand. “The quest continues. Meet us in the forests of Bangledorn!”
Flame glinted on his fins as a barrage of fire-tipped spears shot past him. Ignoring the danger, the black pilka took wing over the eastern wall.
Even before Kem’s parting howl faded, a terrifying thwang screamed across the air.
“Shields up!” shouted King Zello, charging across the courtyard with a band of guards as a wall of fleet-flying arrows struck metal and wood with a stomach-churning thunk.
“We’ll take the Hunters!” Zello growled. “Children, into the palace with you —”
“Father!” cried Keeah, rushing to him.
Viper-headed warriors in chariots burst into the square and shot across the cobblestones. “The princess! Take her!” they cried.
But with a wide swing of his arm, King Zello swept Keeah out of the way. Following up with his club, he swung hard from behind. The chariots’ wheels shrieked and swerved sharply, toppling their snaky passengers.
“Daughter,” Zello said breathlessly, “your mission is great, but it is not here. Follow your mother. She has found a way out —”
A caped figure raced between the enemy lines toward them. It was Queen Relna. “Keeah, friends, follow me. The red wolves will guide you from the city.”
“Sister, I will stay,” said Demither to Queen Relna. “Let me help you.”
“I won’t, either,” said Nelag, scrambling out of the dented submarine.
“The seawall,” said Relna. “We are most defenseless there. You can both help.”
“I shall try not to,” Nelag said as he and Witch Demither hurried toward the seawall.
“See you later!” Neal called out to them.
“Yes, you won’t!” said the fake wizard.
Eric’s heart skipped a beat. You won’t …
“My little band will infiltrate the Ninn armies,” said Captain Bludge. “Who knows? Maybe by the end of the day you’ll see a mess of Orkins at your royal table!”
“The wolves await,” said Relna. “Come.”
The friends entered the castle and plunged into the tunnels that ran beneath the city.
The underground streets, like the remains of an age-old civilization, were dark, narrow, and unused. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling across every intersection like a warning of dangers to come.
When Eric brushed them away with his sword — Ungast’s sword — he remembered once more that his quest to collect the magics would end with Gethwing himself.
Neal’s vision revealed Eric in the Cave of Night at the end. Gethwing had promised it, too. And it would be cold there. Far colder than here, the dragon had said. But where was it?
Eric’s heart was sick with fear and sadness. But he could do little now but keep running.
A few moments later, Relna paused. The place was dark. In that moment of quiet, they heard the regular squealing of stones, as of some distant door opening, closing, opening again. It sounded like the ticking of a great clock, and it was all but drowned out by the thunder of battering rams at the far gates above.
“It continues,” Max said softly.
Turning aside, Relna waved her hand, and a portion of the wall shifted aside. A pack of large red wolves raised their heads in an inside chamber.
“Come,” said Relna, and the wolves padded toward her.
The queen faced her daughter. “The bonds of family cannot be forgotten, even in war,” she said, wiping her daughter’s cheek. “Dear, I love you.”
Keeah, her eyes wet, held her mother the way Eric’s mother had held him.
The largest of the red wolves murmured, and the queen nodded. “It is time. Good luck. Keep hope. Be safe.”
With a rustle of her cloak, she was gone.
The wolves wasted no time, trotting quickly from passage to passage, slowing at each corner to listen before continuing.
Finally, the lead wolf stopped, tilted its head, pricked up its ears, and growled softly.
Keeah nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”
She took two steps to the right and opened a small wooden door. Inside were carpets, some stacked, others rolled and standing up, still others spread out and hovering several inches above the floor.
“Pasha’s workroom!” exclaimed Max. “His hidden workshop! Who knew it was here?”
The little inventor jumped up from behind a tall stack of carpets and embraced the children. “Oh, it’s been so long since our last meeting. I hear you must flee.”
“Not by choice,” said Keeah. “The skies are filled with wingwolves, so unfortunately carpets are out of the question. We need to travel swiftly by land to Bangledorn.”
Pasha stroked the long ends of his mustache. “Hmm … mm … wait, I have just the thing!” He opened a closet door and wheeled out a vehicle that was as outlandish as it was familiar.
“Your sand cycle!” said Neal. “I’ve always loved that thing!”
“It hasn’t been raced since we were in Doobesh together,” said Pasha. “Or washed, I might add.”
“Washed or not, I claim shotgun!” said Julie, nudging Neal aside and hopping into the front seat of the sidecar.
Everyone piled onto the creation’s various seats and platforms. With a chuckle, Pasha revved up the motor, steered it out the door, and in a flash, the entire band of friends was roaring through the tunnels. A few minutes later, they popped up outside the walls, behind enemy lines.
“It’s Sparr,” said Keeah, pointing up. “He’s got a good lead, but wingwolves are not far.”
When Eric saw the swarm growing behind Sparr, he knew Gethwing would soon suspect the worst — that Eric had betrayed him, that he was no longer Prince Ungast. Then the real battle between them would begin.
And the prophecy — the strange, incomplete, and long-hidden prophecy, whatever it meant — would come true.
What about the one?
“The moon is dropping quickly,” said Max, crowding next to Neal. “The dawn of the last day approaches soon. Too soon.”
The first hour passed quickly, then a second. Pasha’s vehicle raced at top speed, but the distance was great. Finally, they arrived at the edge of the great and mysterious darkness of tall trunks and tangled branches.
“The Bangledorn Forest,” whispered Julie. “It was here that I was scratched by the wingwolf and first gained powers.”
Eric dismounted and stepped slowly toward the black trees. In shadow now, the forest was a great living city where no magic was permitted.
“We’re not alone here,” whispered Keeah. “I sense something moving inside, and I don’t mean the monkey folk. There are other forces at work here. Dark forces.”
“You’re beginning to scare me,” said Julie.
Neal burst out laughing. “Beginning to scare you? I’ve been terrified since I woke up this morning!”
“I shall hide the sand cycle nearby and guard it with my life,” Pasha said.
“Thank you,” said Keeah.
Max took a step gingerly into the woody darkness. “Slow and steady, friends. Let us delay no more. Let us rather take heart, keep hope, remain calm, and — oh!”
Branches snapped, leaves crashed, there was a streak of orange hair flying upward, and Max was nowhere in sight!
“What —” cried Julie.
More tree limbs crackled, and she was gone!
Neal was nothing but a blur of blue turban when he vanished.
Keeah spun around, then flew up and away into the branches. “Eric, help!”
“Oh, you’ll get help!” whispered a voice.
“But not from Eric!” whispered a second.
Before he could move, Eric’s feet were yanked out from under him with a harsh tug, and he was pulled straight up into the darkness of the trees.
“Whoa! WHOA! HEY —”
The children were yanked
high up into the branches. They thrashed, flailed, and struggled to escape, when they heard the voices again.
“Hush, friends. The woods have ears!”
“And eyes!” said the second.
“And claws!” said the first.
Eric craned his neck and managed to look directly overhead. Peeking slyly out from the leafy branches above him were two small faces edged in green fur. Their eyes were large and brown, their noses like round brown buttons, their ears enormous, and their smiles broad and friendly.
“Twee?” said Neal. “Is that you?”
“And Woot?” said Julie.
“Present and accounted for!” chirped the green-furred monkeys the children had met twice before.
“Our dear forest friends,” said Keeah. “Are we glad to see you!”
“Alas, our forest is full of unfriendly creatures, too,” said Twee.
“Full of strangers and dangers,” Woot added. “But we’ll be your guides. Follow us to Queen Ortha’s watchtower. Hurry.”
“And be silent as monkeys!” said Twee.
The children were unbound in an instant, and together the friends flitted through the trees, leaping from one vine to another to another, hundreds of feet above the forest floor.
It was clear that things had changed greatly since their last time in the Bangledorn empire. Some trees were burned, others broken, still others blasted as if by explosions. Here and there towers of smoke rose through the leaves from the narrow pathways below.
“This is Ortha’s secret lookout,” said Twee.
They came to rest on a high, roofed platform wedged into the fork of a tall flowering tree. A bamboo curtain clattered, and then the tall, majestic ruler of Bangledorn entered.
“Welcome, guests,” Queen Ortha said. Her voice was low yet strong. “Enemies have forced us into the uppermost branches.”
Ortha was strong and noble of character, a mighty leader to her people, but her regal face was lined with worry and fear. The children had never seen her with armor on. It was made of sticks entwined to form an impenetrable mesh, overlaid with a weave of thick, dry leaves that shone like coins.
“That’s why we’re here,” said Eric. “We’re on a quest.” The final quest, he said to himself.
“The Hakoth-Mal — those terrible and strong-winged wolves — have set up camps everywhere among the trees,” Woot said, fear welling in his large eyes. “Each day they are making inroads into our homeland.”
“And scaring the little folk,” Twee added. “Much littler than us even!”
Keeah breathed deeply. “We’re on a quest to stop the conquest of Droon. To do that, we must find the Temple of Zara.”
Max nodded. “Lord Sparr may already have found the temple. He has his brother Urik’s magic wand.”
Twee gulped nervously. “But her temple lies in the eastern sector.”
“Where the enemy presence is thickest and night is deepest,” said Woot. “Our poor eastern cousins are afraid and in hiding.”
Ortha motioned to the darkest part of the forest. “Magic is forbidden here. Be careful what you do. Your journey will not be an easy one. You must travel through the canopy of treetops, then down among the largest of the wingwolf camps. The Temple of Zara has been abandoned for weeks. Even the droomar, those ghostly elfin helpers of old, could not stay in their posts. Our forest is becoming one of the Dark Lands.”
The children looked at one another.
“And yet … ,” said Keeah. She drifted off. “Wait. Eric, what are you looking at?”
He stood at the edge of the platform, gazing down into the moving darkness. It was lit here and there by the green torchlight of the beasts. He recalled what he’d seen from Gethwing’s back hours before. His spirits sank ever lower. “Even if we continue, time is running away from us. I can’t believe —”
“You must believe,” Ortha interrupted. “And you must go now. Eric, where there are friends, there is hope. I myself await reinforcements from Jaffa City. Perhaps you know them. The purple Lumpies?”
“Of course, we know them!” said Neal. “Khan is one of our best friends.”
“Without his help, we shall lose our forest altogether,” said Woot. “And when our forest goes, then goes … everything.”
Eric breathed out. The end of days …
“That won’t happen,” said Keeah.
“Absolutely not,” said Julie.
“No way,” said Neal. “We still have … twelve hours.”
“And that, too, is hope,” the forest queen said. She stooped to embrace them all, ending in a long and wordless hug with Keeah.
With the duo of normally playful monkeys leading them, the five friends trekked from tree to tree, sometimes swinging down to the ground and racing as quickly and quietly as possible to the next tangle of vines.
Soaring up to a broad tree limb, the friends paused to catch their breath.
“They say monsters already dwell among the next trees,” Woot whispered. “I fear we will not get close —”
Leaves whooshed suddenly, and a small face appeared in the branches.
“Cousin!” said Twee and Woot together.
With a swift loop of its tail around a vine, a third little monkey swung over to them.
“My name is Weaf!” she said, extending a slender paw to Keeah. “Pleased to meet you. I live in the eastern woods. Well, I used to live in the eastern woods — before those terrifying wolves took over. But there is still a way in.”
Scanning the branches this way and that, Weaf pressed a finger to her lips and motioned for them to follow.
As quietly as they could, they climbed from branch to branch, and then slid down vine after vine until they reached the forest floor.
“A zig, a zag, and here we are!” said Weaf.
And there they were, in view of a tree stouter and taller than any other in the forest.
“The Dream Tree,” Keeah whispered.
Though they could not see it yet, they knew that beneath the Dream Tree stood the Temple of Queen Zara, mother of the wizard dynasty.
“I smell wingwolves,” said Julie. “Everyone be on guard.”
“The wolves are not our only worry!” said Woot. “Look what Twee just found!”
The children crowded around the little monkey. In his palm he held a shiny object the size of a quarter.
“A dragon scale?” said Neal.
“Is Gethwing here?” asked Keeah.
Eric shuddered at the mention of the dragon’s name. He didn’t want to be found yet, especially not in the company of his friends.
“And this,” said Weaf. “A scorched branch. It is a fire-breathing dragon. The worst kind!”
There was a sudden explosion of flames just beyond the clearing. A pilka whinnied.
“Back, you fiend!” cried a voice.
“It’s Sparr!” yelled Neal. “That fire-breathing dragon is after him —”
The children tore quickly through the trees, where Sparr, managing to free himself from the dragon, joined them.
“I neared the temple of my mother,” he said breathlessly. “But I could not get in. It is wound in ancient spells I cannot pierce. Besides that, it appears to be guarded by a dragon! Poor Kem ran off —”
“I smell something,” said Neal.
“Neal,” Julie said. “Are you seriously thinking of food at a time like this?”
“Naturally,” said Neal. “But it’s not what you think. I smell someone … baking something.”
“Not the monkeys,” said Woot. “We have strict orders to stay hidden, and that means no cooking or baking or fires of any kind.”
Leaves thrashed among the trees behind them. Sparr wheeled around. “The dragon comes again. Prepare to defend ourselves —”
All at once, a great green dragon stomped out of the dense woods and roared, snorting a huge cloud of fire at the children.
“On him!” cried Sparr.
The moment the dragon appeared, lashing out with claws as lo
ng as sword blades, Kem galloped into the clearing. “Roo-oooo —”
The dragon turned suddenly at the sound. It lost its footing, stumbled backward, and fell to the ground with a thud. “Ohhhh!”
The instant it did, its mighty horned head shrank to the size of a melon. Its massive claws dwindled to a set of paws with close-cropped nails.
“Do not hurt him!” the dragon cried. “Little king! Poor little king! Poor him …”
“Jabbo?” the children shouted together.
The plump dragon blinked, and then pulled itself up from the ground. “Friends? You recognize poor Jabbo from days gone by?”
It was Jabbo, king of the city of Doobesh and former pie maker to Salamandra, queen of thorns.
“No wonder I smelled food,” said Neal. “Jabbo, you were baking!”
“He was,” said Jabbo, who always spoke about himself in the third person. “Jabbo is a pie maker, once again. He and his fog pirates were forced from Doobesh when that evil Princess Neffu attacked. Then he had a dream that told him to guard the Temple of Zara. It’s where he learned a special recipe to turn him into a vicious creature. It was a dream he simply had to obey!”
“That’s why you were scary and green,” said Julie. “You transformed yourself with your pies!”
Sparr stroked his beard. “A dream, you say? And it told you to come here? To the Dream Tree?”
“It did,” said the dragon, pulling his chef’s hat over his crown. “And the voice in Jabbo’s dream was a lady’s voice.”
“My mother’s voice,” Sparr said softly, gazing at his brother’s wand, then at Eric. “She has brought us all here with magic in hand …”
“Roo-roo?” said Kem.
“Yes, Kem,” said Sparr. “But speak so that others may understand.”
“Our pleasure,” said the dog. “We have determined that the wingwolves have wound a nearly unbroken sequence of spells around the temple so that no one may find it.”
“Nearly unbroken?” said Julie.
Both of Kem’s sets of jaws smiled. “Just so. We have discovered a gap in their charms just big enough for a dog. Even a dog with two heads. And his friends! This way.”
Kem stalked slowly among the thick growth toward the base of the great tree, then partway out again, then partway back, threading the band of friends silently through the wingwolves’ twisted maze of spells. At last they parted a final wall of ragged vegetation and beheld the remains of the temple.