“Squeak.”
“Ah!” Gruffy laughed. “Then fate was on our side.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
Gruffy nodded at the knight. “This mighty warrior has no name that we have ever heard. He never speaks. He never ventures past the boundaries of the Kaleidoscope Forest, and he and his giant friend protect all who are in danger here. Those who know of him call him the Mirror Man.”
“I saw him at the edge of the forest, right after I was swallowed by the Tasting Tulip.”
“Ah,” Gruffy said. “He was waiting, no doubt, to see if you would come to harm.”
I walked up to the knight, who stood completely still. I couldn’t shake a sense of familiarity.
“Do I know you?” I asked, peering up at my own face in the refection of his mirrored helmet.
“He never speaks, Doolivanti,” Gruffy said. “The legends say he silently does his duty and goes on his way.”
“Squeak.”
I wanted to reach up and touch that helmet. There were no eye slits or breathing holes. “Do you have a name?” I asked.
The knight said nothing.
“Thank you.” I reached up and touched the center of his shield. When in my life had I ever known a knight? I ached to push back his visor and see his face.
I noticed a flash of gold in his hand behind the shield. I tilted my head to see better. He was holding a golden fruit just like the one I’d found before the roaches attacked.
“Thank you,” I repeated.
“Darthorn,” the knight said.
“What?”
“Squeak!”
“I … am … Darthorn,” the knight said.
“Remarkable,” said Gruffy.
“Do I know you, Darthorn?” I asked.
The knight stepped away, took two strides, and leapt upon the back of the pug, who raised his head and snuffled, shaking his neck at the weight of the Mirror Man. The pug wheeled around and dove into the forest.
Darthorn was gone.
“I have never heard of the Mirror Man talking to anyone,” Gruffy said. “You are truly unique, Doolivanti.”
“I know him,” I whispered.
“You do?”
“From somewhere. I don’t know where.”
Gruffy looked at the now-quiet forest where the knight had disappeared.
I tried to piece it together. So much had happened that my mind was spinning. There was something about the knight, something I couldn’t put my finger on. It niggled at me like a sliver underneath my skin.
I went back to the tree where I had fallen.
“We must return to the princess and Pip, Doolivanti,” Gruffy said.
“Just a second.” I picked up the golden fruit. “I was missing this.” My fingers sank into the soft surface, felt the hardness beneath. Yes, that was better. I felt bigger, stronger.
“Where did you get that?” Gruffy asked.
“Squeak!”
“A bush by the clearing with the black tree.” I didn’t like the way he had asked that question. “Why?”
“Tis a Grudge, Doolivanti. You’ll want—”
“Don’t tell me what I want,” I snapped, holding the fruit away from them. “You have no idea what I want.” I took a step back.
“Squeak.” The little mouse shook his paws out like there was something sticky on them.
“Indeed it has,” Gruffy said to Squeak, then to me. “Your scant knowledge of Veloran works against you, Doolivanti. You should not hold a Grudge.”
“I’ll hold what I want, griffon.” I looked down at my fist, white knuckles tight over the spongy surface of the golden fruit.
Gruffy clicked his beak and looked at Squeak, then back at me. “Tis dangerous, Doolivanti.”
“Well, whose fault is that, then?” I demanded. “You made us land by that black tree. If we hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gone into the forest. Those horrible bugs wouldn’t have chased us! You wouldn’t have gotten cut all over by their claws. It’s your fault. Don’t blame me!”
“No one blames you, Doolivanti.” Gruffy’s voice was very calm now. “We care about your welfare. Would you loan me the Grudge for only a moment?”
“It’s mine!”
“Just for a moment.”
“I don’t trust you, griffon. And why should I—”
In the middle of my sentence, Squeak became a gray blur, streaking up my arm. He snatched the fruit and leapt away. The fruit writhed in Squeak’s teeth, coming alive. Beady little black eyes and ratlike fangs appeared in the golden, fuzzy hide. Squeak flung it away. It unfurled—larger than the charcoal mouse—and chattered angrily.
I gasped, and the sense of strength fled, replaced by a cold shame. I drew a breath at the horrible things I had said.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”
The Grudge charged Squeak, fangs bared. Squeak jumped up, bounced on its back, and landed on the far side. He then stood on his hind legs and did a victory dance.
“Squeak!”
The Grudge charged again, hissing and spitting, awkward little feet scuttling across the ground. Squeak dodged and smacked it on the backside.
“Squeak!”
“Is he saying ‘Olé!’?” I whispered to Gruffy.
Gruffy looked at me. “What is Olé?”
I sighed. “Never mind.”
The Grudge snapped and clawed and kicked at Squeak all at once, but it missed and tripped over its own legs, wadding itself up into a golden ball. It unfurled and looked at the mouse, who clapped his paws together twice and waited.
The Grudge chittered in fury, turned, and plunged into the undergrowth, but not before Squeak spun, slapping the Grudge’s backside with his tail.
Squeak stared after it to be sure it was gone, then turned and scampered back to Gruffy.
“Well done, Squeak,” Gruffy acknowledged. Squeak merely nodded once and hopped up onto Gruffy’s head.
“That thing was making me angry,” I said, understanding now. “It was controlling my emotions!”
“That is what a Grudge does,” Gruffy said. “The longer you hold one, the angrier you get, until that is all you can see. You soon forget who your friends are. You can even forget your own safety.”
“It was like I was someone else. I didn’t even—” I gasped, turning in the direction the Mirror Man, Darthorn, had gone. “Darthorn had one. He had a Grudge.”
“Squeak?”
“Are you certain? I saw nothing,” Gruffy said.
“It was in his hand behind the shield. It looked like his fingers were sunk into it.” I looked at them. “We have to find him! Help him!”
“Squeak.”
“I’m sorry, Doolivanti, but Squeak is right. Pip and the princess await us. We left them most precariously perched atop a Silverweft tree. If the roaches find them, they might climb the tree to get them. We cannot wait any longer.”
I bit my lip, staring into the forest where the knight had gone. “Can we look for him afterward?”
“We may try, but the Mirror Man appears where he will. We may not be able to find him,” Gruffy said. “However, should we need him again, I have little doubt he will reappear.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because that is what the Mirror Man does.”
“Darthorn,” I murmured, trying again to fit the name to some memory. I couldn’t. With a sigh, I climbed onto Gruffy. He leapt into the air and flapped through the giant hole he had made in the forest’s ceiling.
CHAPTER 14
We picked up Ripple and Pip and continued on, flying over the forest. We looked for the giant pug and his rider, but as Gruffy suspected, the Mirror Man had vanished.
My chest felt empty. Gruffy told me that releasing a Grudge caused such emptiness, but I knew it had more to do with Darthorn. I had held a Grudge for only a few minutes, and it had made me so angry that I’d run away from my friends when they were only trying to help. What would it do to poor Darthorn, who might have been holding it much longer?
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We flew for the remainder of the day, and as the sun set, Gruffy began looking for a good place to camp.
“How about a nice big clearing with a black tree? A black tree,” Pip squawked.
Gruffy took a playful snap at the toucan, who flapped backward.
It was Squeak who picked the location, a happy little glade with chest-high green ferns and a babbling brook for Ripple that splashed over clusters of rocks and glinted orange in the setting sun. Gruffy landed and we all stretched our legs.
“Tis not my strength, riding griffons,” Ripple admitted, twisting to the left and then to the right, hands on her hips. She then stepped into the water and sighed as she sat down. “Twill be nary a moment and I shall emerge. Prithee, feel not obliged to await my return ere thou dost break bread,” she said, then laid down and let the stream cover her whole body.
We waited for her anyway, and when she emerged, we all sat down and ate more goolaroose, green apples, and nuts. Squeak said that he would take the night watch, or so I gathered. He claimed that he had slept peacefully atop Gruffy’s head during the flight, and was refreshed.
Pip found a branch overhead and tucked his beak under one wing. I looked for a good place to lie down, but Gruffy cleared his throat and bowed his head to me. “Doolivanti, I would have a word with you, if I may.”
“Of course,” I said.
Gruffy walked away from Pip, Ripple, and Squeak, far enough that he could not be overheard. He seemed uncomfortable.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “Doolivanti, I understand that you are powerful. I would never question this. You are a wish maker, but…” He hesitated.
“Gruffy, we’re friends. You can tell me. What is it?”
“I would not normally presume so far, but there is so much you do not seem to know about Veloran. It is twice now that I have almost lost you. A Doolivanti! You did not know about the danger of the Starfield. You did not know about the Grudge. You went too far into the Kaleidoscope Forest. And though every time you have managed to come out safely, they were all very near escapes. I have failed to protect you adequately.”
“Gruffy, you were amazing,” I said. “You saved my life.”
“You are too kind.” He bowed his head. “But I would like to give you something, if I may.” He turned his head and put his beak gently over his snowy mane of feathers. He plucked a feather free and dropped it into my hand.
The snow-white feather was one of his smaller ones, but it was nearly as long as my forearm. It was warm to the touch.
“Griffons do not molt like birds, Doolivanti,” Gruffy continued. “Did you know that?”
“No.”
“Only by force might we lose our feathers. They are part of us. Like my talons. Or my eyes. I may, however, give a single feather to a friend.”
“Gruffy, you don’t have to—”
He shook his head, and I stopped talking.
“This feather belongs to you,” he said. “It is yours. You may choose not to accept it, which I would understand—”
“Of course I accept it!”
He sighed in relief. “Thank you. You honor me, Doolivanti.”
“Gruffy,” I stammered, looking at the amazing gift. It seemed to glow in the moonlight. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
“There is more to it,” he said. “This feather is connected to me, and if you wear it, you will be, too. If you are in need and your slightest breath touches the feather, I will know it, and I will be able to find you.”
“I blow on it and you can find me?”
“The wind is the companion of the griffon. The wind you create is even more precious to me. If we are ever separated again, you need only call. I will answer.”
“Gruffy…”
“I will protect you, Doolivanti. None shall harm you so long as I breathe. I swear it.”
I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. After a moment, he brought a taloned arm up and wrapped it around me.
“Thank you, Gruffy. I’ll wear it always.”
“Thank you, Doolivanti.”
My mind swirled with so many thoughts, but I held the feather tightly as we returned to the clearing. Ripple’s eyes widened when she saw it, but she didn’t say anything. Squeak also watched me, his dark little eyes flicking from the snow-white feather to my face and back again. He, too, made no comment. Pip was asleep.
Gruffy laid down, and Ripple and I snuggled against his furry, feathery hide. I fell asleep holding Gruffy’s feather tightly.
My dreams were colorful and without sense. The faces of Mr. Schmindly and Tabitha flashed by. A worried Auntie Carrie and Uncle Jone, talking to policemen at my house. I saw Mom and Dad behind the shadowy bars of a prison. I saw my brother running through a forest, holding the stone knight that Dad gave him, his wavy golden hair bouncing atop his head.
I woke, and sat up. Gruffy’s chest rose and fell in slumber. Ripple was curled into his side, the stars in her hair glowing softly. Her long gown looked like a river that had suddenly stopped moving. On a branch above, Pip sat immobile, beak tucked under his wing.
I stood up, and turned. He was nearby. The Mirror Man. Darthorn. I could feel the connection between us. I peered into the forest, searching.
Just beyond the stream in the shadows, I saw his tall silhouette astride the giant pug.
Scritch scratch.
I looked down. Squeak stood at my shoe. He looked up with his tiny, marble-like eyes.
“Please don’t wake the others,” I said, glancing back at Darthorn. “I … need to talk to him.”
Squeak looked at the Mirror Man, then back at me. He smoothed his whiskers on both sides of his face, then sat down.
“I’ll be okay.” I jumped across the brook and moved toward the towering Mirror Man, who slowly dismounted the pug and waited.
“Darthorn,” I said.
He stood absolutely still.
“I know you. And you know me, don’t you?” I walked up to him, touched the big shield on his left arm, then moved my fingers to the edge and pulled it open, revealing his fist, clutched tight around the golden Grudge.
I put my fingers over his.
“I want you to give this to me,” I said.
He moved his hand away from mine.
“You’ve held it a long time—” I began, but the catch in my throat stopped me.
I suddenly knew who he was, who he had to be.
He and his giant friend protect all who are in danger …
“I want you to show me who you were before you touched this,” I said.
He didn’t move for a long time. Then, slowly, the mirrored fingers separated, and he opened his hand. I batted the Grudge aside. Darthorn flinched, his helmeted head swiveling to look at it.
I kept his giant mirrored hand in mine until his head swiveled back to look down at me.
“It’s okay,” I said. My reflection in his helmet was tall and warped. “We’ll figure it out together. I promise.”
For a long moment, Darthorn simply stood there, unmoving. Then, suddenly, his armor began to slide aside in pieces the size of playing cards. Square upon square of mirror slid back, joining with the next square, and then the next. The mirrors retreated all over his body, receding like a wave up to his helmet, and then down to his shield. The shield went last, shrinking until all of the pieces became one card-sized mirror that he held in the same hand that had held the Grudge.
Darthorn was taller than any adult I’d ever met. His muscular shoulders, arms, and torso were mighty. Nobody was that muscular, except in comic books. He had wavy gold hair and a strong jaw. I knew his face, though it was the face of a man and not the little boy my brother had been.
“Theron…”
“Darthorn.” He shook his head.
He had the same gray eyes, the wide nose. This was my brother. Even at nine years old, he’d always had wide shoulders and a strong body. Theron could climb up doorjambs and hang from them by his
fingertips. He was constantly moving, playing, sprinting, jumping, wrestling. If Theron had become one of his own superheroes, this was what he would look like.
“Theron…” I tried to keep my voice steady. “It’s me, Lorelei.”
“I am Darthorn.”
The name he had chosen confirmed it, which was why it had stuck in my mind from the start. Theron and I used to invent fictional characters together and draw them, play them out. Theron always drew superheroes. When he was four years old, his most powerful superhero was Thorn Boy. Thorn Boy could defeat Superman, the Hulk. He could wrap Spider-Man into a ball. But as Theron grew older, he made superheroes stronger than Thorn Boy. Superheroes who sounded more like men. But they always had the word “thorn” in them. Megathorn. Killthorn. Thornbomb.
Darthorn.
“Theron, it’s me, Lorelei,” I repeated.
“I…” he said.
I took his hands. It was so strange to look up at this man I knew wasn’t a man. His fingers were powerful, strapped with tendons, not the pudgy fingers of a boy.
“I missed you,” I said. “I didn’t know where you went. I was all alone.”
“I … can’t be Theron,” the man said.
“You can.”
“No.”
“You are Theron—”
“Theron can’t…”
He trailed off, and I searched his face. But he looked over my head, as though he was concentrating on something far away.
“What can’t Theron do?”
“He can’t … save Dad.”
I hugged him around the waist, as tightly as I could.
Darthorn began to shrink. In moments, he was my size, then shorter, then the size the nine-year-old Theron had been when he disappeared in the woods.
He fell to his knees and I went with him. “I couldn’t save him,” Theron said, crumpling into me. “I was a coward.”
I held him as I used to do after one of his nightmares. It was just like it used to be, except larger. This time, he hadn’t saved me from Shandra or Danny Brogue or even mean Mrs. Coswell. He’d saved me from real monsters. Larger-than-life roaches. And I could hold him. That much, I could do.
“I ran away…” Theron said. “It was attacking Dad, and I ran. I shouldn’t have run. I let the monster get him.”
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