Tales from the Green

Book One: The Magic Flute

Steven Best

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Steven Best

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to my wife Michelle,

who always encouraged me - even

though I never let her read

anything that I’m writing.

“Far away, in the land beyond the mists, hides the world of things unseen. It is a place of mystery and magic, where dreams and legends walk freely, a land of soaring mountain peaks, deep dark caves, crystal seas, expansive deserts, and ancient kingdoms. In the center of all of this is the forest. None know how deep it goes, for walking its twisted paths is sure to get one hopelessly lost. As far as anyone is concerned, the forest simply goes on forever, endless woodland filled with ancient magic. The forest goes by many names, but to those who live here, it is simply the Green…”

Alexander stood firm before the dragon. Though both had suffered greatly in the battle, it was the great serpent that bore the worst wounds.

“It’s over, Ssvalith,” he proclaimed boldly. “The people of the Green are free from your tyranny.”

The dragon attempted to take flight, but its wings were too shredded to hold its massive bulk aloft. Ssvalith crashed to the ground in a heap, leaving a deep furrow in the dirt.

“I shall never be defeated,” rumbled the beast as it stood once more, though it was obviously a struggle to move. “The Green is my world, human, not yours. Be it this day or another, I shall rise again to retake my throne.”

Ssvalith let loose a roar that seemed to shake the whole forest and charged his adversary one final time. This was it. The young man stood his ground, unwavering, and with a roar of his own he thrust out with the Sword of the Oaks. Though the blade seemed to be of mere wood, it carried with it the strength of the Eternal Forest, and by that strength it pierced the armored scales of the dragon that would have turned the finest steel. The sword sank deep into the dragon’s chest, right to the beast’s heart. The dragon toppled to the ground and with a great sigh moved no more.

*

“And then what happened?” asked the boy, eagerly listening to his grandpa’s story.

The old man hesitated for a moment. “Well, there’s not much to tell after that,” he said. “The dragon was defeated and the Green was troubled by him no more. I even got to see Hoblin one last time before I went home. He had survived the battle at the gates of Dwarfholme after all, and I can’t tell you how happy I was to see him.”

“How’d you get home?” his grandson interrupted again.

“Why, magic, of course. After I had recovered from the fight Eyell’sevvet, now King of the Elves, used his powers to send me back to Earth. It was really rather anticlimactic after all that had happened to me, but my task was done and it was time to go. I popped out of the mists right on the banks of the river that runs alongside the family farm, just on the other side of the field out back. I’d been missing for over a year, so of course everyone was thrilled to see me back again. I married your grandmother and everyone lived happily ever after, as the saying goes. Of course, no one believed my stories of where I’d been…”

The child’s father entered the room and cleared his throat. “I think that’s enough stories for now, dad. We’ve got a long drive back, so we really have to be going. Say goodbye to your grandpa, Alex.”

The young boy jumped up to give his grandfather a hug. “Will you tell me more stories next time I visit?”

“Of course, Alex. I’ll tell you the one about Grimstank, the Terrible Troll, or maybe…ooh, have I told you the one about Hoblin and the ogre?”

“I don’t think so,” he lied, knowing his grandpa enjoyed telling his stories better if he thought he hadn’t heard them yet.

“Oh, it’s one of my best ones. You see, me and Hoblin…that is to say, Hoblin and I were out in the middle of the Tangles, searching for the Trollblood Stone, when all of a sudden…”

“Dad…” warned the boy’s father.

The old man put his hands up as if he’d been beaten. “Alright, alright, James, I’ll let you have your son for today.”

“You know what I mean,” the boy’s father said. “You tell him too many of those stories of yours. If you’re not careful he’ll start to believe them.”

The old man smiled innocently. “That’d be a shame.”

*

Chapter 1: The Troubles of Alex

Sometimes it seems that even when everything is going right, it’s still all wrong. Such was the case of Alexander Samuels. Alex, you must understand, was troubled. It wasn’t that anything specific troubled him, no, it wasn’t as simple as that. In fact, at first glance everything in his life seemed perfect enough.

He was the only child of James and Christine Samuels, two highly professional, ambitious people who had made it big in the business world. His mother had put her career on hold when her son had been born, but between his father’s continuing climb up the corporate ladder and what his mother had already put into savings, the three lived a very privileged upper-middle class life. His father had often gone without as a child, and as such had made it his mission in life to provide his only son anything and everything he wanted. Alex had always had the best toys growing up and now as he neared his thirteenth birthday, the best in electronic entertainment. This ensured that Alex always had friends willing to come to his house, or at least people who claimed friendship so they could play with his stuff. At first glance, it seemed as though Alex led the perfect life.

Maybe that perfection in itself was the problem, though. It was as if Alex were merely drifting through life without having to lift a finger. Soon no matter how cutting edge a new game was, or how many features a new toy had, it just wasn’t enough to hold the boy’s interest. After a time Alex couldn’t really find anything that seemed worth doing, and so more often than not he simply did nothing. This brought its own problems.

His long-time child therapist, the notable Dr. Macintyre, was quick to point out this apathy as an issue. Alex was diagnosed with a ’mild pre-pubescent depression,’ resulting from a lack of any real direction or challenge in his life. Ideally, it was something he would grow out of as he found his place in the world amidst the shifting social structures of his early teens. In the meantime, a regiment of medication was the answer to all of his problems. Alex had doubts that the pills really did anything, just as he had doubts about the suggestion that he try sports as a way to give more meaning to his daily life.

Sports…now why did that word seem important right now?

“Alex, pay attention!”

He was startled out of his introspection by his coach, frantically yelling from across the field. What was his problem? Alex turned around to see what his coach was pointing at, groaning as he noticed the baseball on the ground not three feet away from him. He had no idea how long it had been there, but it was apparently long enough for one runner to make it home and another to start rounding third. Scooping it up, he flung it towards home, falling well short of the catcher as the second runner scored. The batter had made it to second base by this time, content to stop, but the damage was already done. Alex had single handedly turned a short hit into right field into a two point lead for the other team. The home team crowd, of course, was far from happy, not to mention his own teammates who would likely be out for his blood. His coach was waving for him to come off the field, probably meaning to bench him for the rest of the season, but Alex just sighed and walked the other way. With a little grunting effort he managed to climb over the low outfield fence into the parking lot. He’d get in trouble for this, but no one on his team really liked him anyway, not when he didn’t have a new videogame to share, and it’d be even worse after this latest debacle. Alex could see no reason to stay.

“So much for baseball,” he said to no one as he slipped off his glove and dropped it next to the bike rack. Maybe someone who would actually use it would find it. He unchained his bike and started back home, riding slowly so his parents wouldn’t question why he was back so early. As he rode, though, a strange sensation washed over him. He couldn’t shake a strange feeling he had, like someone was watching him. He glanced around but saw no one, but he could practically feel the eyes on him, and with it came something else, a wave of nostalgia like something half-remembered from his childhood.

Finally he spotted someone standing in the shadows just outside the parking lot. At least he thought it was someone. It was too dark to see anything but a silhouette, but somehow he was sure that whoever it was, he was staring right at him. Alex suddenly felt queasy and some rational part of his brain told him that it was best to keep his distance. Though the figure made no threatening moves, the sick feeling quickly turned into an overwhelming sense of dread. Alex rode faster, determined now to get home as fast as possible no matter the awkward conversation that would inevitably meet him once he got there. As soon as he rounded a corner the feeling of fear and sickness left him, though a lingering sense of unease remained. He never saw the figure melt into the shadows that surrounded it, never heard the hiss of satisfaction that escaped from its dark form as its target was spotted.

*

The little boy knew at once that he was dreaming, just as he knew that, as usual, he wouldn’t remember any of it when he awoke. It had not been this way when he had been young, but life had changed, at least in the waking world. Here, he was as he had always been.

He walked slowly under verdant boughs, the trees forming an arching canopy over his head. The sunlight filtered through the emerald leaves, giving the path below a subtle greenish tint. A song play on the breeze, or maybe the song was the breeze, but either way it was soothing. Nothing could worry him here, nothing could harm him. It was pleasant here. As always he wished that he would remember this place on awaking, but his parents didn’t like his dreams, and so he had long since made sure to forget. It was easier that way, or so he had convinced himself.

Usually he was alone here, but tonight someone walked alongside him. The figure was obscured in shadow, almost featureless, but there was no menace in him. Not like the other shadow he had seen. What other shadow? He couldn’t remember. He knew this one as a friend, one that he had walked alongside many times. His companion walked in almost complete silence, ghosting over the ground without leaving so much as a footprint in the rich soil underneath.

“Am I the one?” the boy asked suddenly, and he was surprised to hear his own voice. He sounded so grown up! He didn’t know what the question meant, but he knew the answer was important.

“It is possible,” his companion replied after a moment. His voice was quiet yet strong, and suddenly the child was aware that he had never before heard the other speak before, though he was sure he had walked with him before. The shadowy figure stopped and looked around slowly, almost as if seeing the forest for the first time.

“As vibrant as the Green once was…” he whispered aloud, though it was clear he was only talking to himself. Turning to the boy, he knelt and looked him in the eye. The shadows still obscured his face, but he could make out the subtle glow of a pair of eyes. They were green eyes, as green as the forest itself. “The time comes quickly that I will be unable to visit you here any longer. You are yet young, but I feel that you must come to me in person soon. There can be no more delay.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, no longer remembering that it was just a dream. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“Wake up, Alexander,” his friend said. Alex fought it, clung desperately to the dream, but the world unraveled around him into the comfortable darkness of sleep. Just before he woke, he heard his companion’s voice one last time.

“Are you the one?”

*

The next day did not go so well. For some reason Alex hadn’t slept well at all, which meant that the day at school seemed to drag on for an eternity. The only advantage of school was that it allowed him to avoid the wrath of his parents until late afternoon, but sure enough as soon as he drug his weary body over the threshold they were waiting for him.

“I can’t believe you just walked off the field like that!” Alex’s father stated for the hundredth time. As much as he was throwing his hands up, his arms must have been getting tired. “I was on the phone with your coach for over an hour convincing him not to kick you off the team. Over an hour!”

“I don’t want to be on the team,” Alex stated as if it wasn’t a big deal, and to him it really wasn’t.

“Maybe baseball just isn’t what Alex needs right now,” said his mother, trying to soothe the situation.

“Dr. Macintyre said that boys his age need discipline and direction, Christine. What kind of parents would we be if we just let him quit whatever he doesn’t feel like doing?”

“I…well, maybe you’re right,” she relented, unable to argue with the logic. She always did try to defend her son, but Alex didn’t give her much to work with most of the time.

“And what about that forty dollar glove he left at the field?” his father asked, pressing his advantage. “We’ll never see that again!”

“Not like I’m going to need it,” muttered Alex under his breath.
“I heard that!”

“Now, now,” interrupted his mother again, “Mike came by this afternoon and dropped it off while you were yelling at him the first time. Such a nice boy…”

“Well starting this weekend he’s going back to Dr. Macintyre. I thought he was over this kind of behavior.”

“We can’t take him this weekend. We were going to go visit your father, remember?” Alex’s father stared at her blankly. “It’s his and Alex’s birthday,” she prompted. “You do remember your own father’s birthday, right? Not to mention your son’s?”

“Oh, of course I do,” he said unconvincingly, “But the weekend after that…” he warned, turning to where Alex had been sitting. The empty chair didn’t respond much to the threat of more therapy, Alex having long since slipped out of the room while his mother had been talking. Maybe he wasn’t good at sports, but no one he knew was more adept at sneaking out under their parents’ noses. By the time his father made it to the back door Alex was already on his bike and out the gate into the alley beyond. Mike, the so-called “nice boy” his mother had mentioned, was already waiting for him where the alley met the street. It was as if he had foreseen this latest display of disobedience ahead of time, and indeed, it was likely he had. Mike, never one to be impressed by anything Alex’s parents ever bought him, was probably the only real friend Alex had.

“I didn’t think you’d ever make it out of there. I bet they take your bike away after this.”

“Yeah, probably,” replied Alex, trying to put distance between himself and his house.

“Well, we’ve got all afternoon until they do, so where’re we going?”

“Anywhere.”

*

Anywhere turned out to be nothing so unremarkable as the park, a common hangout for kids who lacked the allowance money to go do something more interesting. Unfortunately, ‘free’ often seemed to go hand in hand with ‘dull.’

“Well this is dull,” remarked Alex, walking alongside his bike.

“I have five dollars,” Mike said, wobbling in his seat as he tried unsuccessfully to ride without using his hands. “We could go to the arcade, kill some zombies.”

“I didn’t bring any money,” Alex mumbled. “Five bucks wouldn’t get us far.”

“Alright, but Saturday it’s zombie hunting time.”

Alex shook his head. “I can’t. I have to go to my stupid grandpa’s stupid birthday party. I’ll be out in the middle of nowhere all weekend. Did you know all they have out there is dial-up?”

“Hey, that’s not so bad,” Mike replied. “It’s your birthday, too, so you’ll at least get some presents. Besides, you’re grandpa is cool, in an old crazy person sort of way. Does he still tell those crazy stories?”

“Sadly, yes.”

Mike grinned like a little boy. “Hey, remember when we were seven and I went with you to his house. He told that story about how he met that troll, Grim…Grimstink…”

“Grimstank,” prompted Alex.

“That’s him.” Mike shuddered, causing him to almost topple over as he scrambled to put his hands back on the handlebars. “Scared the hell out of me,” he admitted as he regained control. “I had nightmares for weeks after that. You’re lucky; it’d be neat to hear that one again.”

Alex rolled his eyes at his juvenile friend. “Please, I think I’m a little old to be spending my Saturday listening to fairy tales about enchanted forests in some musty old house. I thought you were too old, too.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mike agreed, though he sounded unconvinced.

“We should have gone down to the dump,” suggested Mike after a few moments of awkward silence. “That’s where everyone else has been going lately. Blake said he found an old TV there last week. He hit it with a stick.”

“And?” prompted Alex.

Mike stared blankly at his friend. “And what?”

“I’ll pass.”

“C’mon Alex, you never want to do anything fun anymore.”

Alex stopped walking and didn’t respond. It was true; he didn’t do much of anything with his friends anymore. They used to play all the time, pretending to be pirates, or ninjas, or both, though Alex had always insisted whatever the game was that he was an elf…stupid kid stuff, not worth thinking about, but still it’d be nice to actually have some fun again. Not that going to the city dump and looking for stuff to break sounded very fun at the moment, but it was better than nothing. He was just about to say so when that feeling came over him again, the same sensation that he was being watched that he had felt the night before after the baseball game. His eyes darted around looking for the source until finally he spotted someone off in the trees. At least he thought it might be someone: all he could make out in the fading afternoon light was a dark silhouette, half hidden behind a tree trunk.

“Alex, are you listening to me?” asked Mike, waving his hand in front of his face. “Hellooo, Earth to Alex.”

Alex stood frozen as he looked at the shadow in the distance. He couldn’t make out any features except the eyes, and it was those eyes that he couldn’t pull away from. They burned into him with absolute hatred, seemed to look right into his very soul. When he finally managed to speak it was barely a whisper. “That man over there is looking at us.”

“What man?” Mike blurted out. He squinted into the tree line. “I don’t see…oh, I think I see him. Hey you! What’re you looking at?”

“Shhh!” Alex warned, but the shadowy figure darted off the other way, his movements impossibly quick.

Mike flashed his friend a dopey grin, apparently not finding anything at all unusual in the whole situation. “Probably some hobo or something. We’re lucky he didn’t flash us or offer us a ride in his van.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Alex absently. The strange feeling had passed as soon as the figure was out of sight. Could it have been the same man that had been watching him the night before? Alex suddenly felt very vulnerable standing there in the middle of the park in the fading twilight.

“I…I should probably go home now,” he stammered, climbing back onto his bike.

“But you just ran away like an hour ago,” Mike protested. “At least be gone long enough for your parents to worry about you.”

It was too late, though. Alex had already ridden around the bend and out of sight. Mike started to go after him, but then he simply shrugged and rode off the other way towards the town dump. Now that he thought about it, smashing junk would probably be more fun without Alex.

*

The rest of the week went by more or less without incident. His parents were not happy in the least with his latest minor display of rebellion; as Mike had predicted his bike was immediately impounded upon returning home after the night in the park. Alex didn’t care. Summer was approaching, so it was getting too hot outside to ride bikes anyway. Besides, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself something about that shadowy man in the park had him spooked, and he had no desire to be outside alone anytime soon. If anything, being confined to his room at night alone let him further hone his videogame skills, and soon he forgot all about creepy shadows. Almost.

Several nights he woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares that he couldn’t quite remember. None of the details lasted more than a few seconds after he was awake, but he had the feeling that it was always the same dream, over and over. Somehow he knew it had something to do with shadows and snakes and fire, but the few snippets he could remember made no sense. Of course he didn’t mention any of the nightmares to his parents. His frequent nightmares as a child were one of the things that had got him sent to therapy in the first place. Needless to say, lack of sleep did little to improve his mood.

The weekend found Alex in the far backseat of the family minivan, speeding along at an impressive fifty four miles per hour. Alex’s mother had purchased the unsightly vehicle in hopes of becoming a “soccer mom,” filling it full of rowdy kids on the way to some event or another, but Alex’s disinterest in sports or anything else social made the ample seating seem wasted.

The whole trip was wasted in Alex’s opinion. It was both his and his grandpa’s birthday today: he was now thirteen and the great Alexander L. Samuels for whom he had been named was turning seventy. The annual event was always a favorite of the grandkids, with grandpa just as likely to give presents as receive them, not to mention a certain chance to hear one of his fabulous stories. Even Alex had to admit that the man was a gifted storyteller, but he had long since outgrown his grandpa’s fairy tales. In recent years had left the whole event to his cousins, the oldest of which was five years his junior. With him being grounded this time around, however, there was no getting out of going.

“Stop moping,” scolded his mother, looking at her son in the rearview mirror. “You’re a teenager now, you know, and you should act like it.” When her son remained silent, she sighed. “You can at least try to have fun, today. It’s your birthday, too, and all your cousins will be there.”

Alex rolled his eyes at the thought of playing with the immature little brats. He had never even bothered remembering their names. How many were there now? Eight? Too many, in any case. They’d get their grubby fingerprints on his stuff, or force him to play tag or hide-and-seek or some other dreadful physical game. Alex said nothing and moped on, more to spite his mother as much as anything, for the rest of the drive.

Alex’s grandpa lived outside of a small town in what seemed the middle of nowhere, far removed from the bustle of the city. He had always preferred it that way, living in his family’s old farmhouse until it seemed it would fall apart around him, as far away from civilization as he could get without moving too far from his family. The farm itself hadn’t been worked in over sixty years and was vastly overgrown, again, the way grandpa preferred it. Alex’s grandmother had worked hard to keep the yard and garden near the house in order, but since her death several years back the whole property was thick with tall grass and healthy young saplings.

“Maybe we should have bought him a riding mower,” Alex’s father muttered as he pulled up the driveway. From the other cars parked in front of house, it seemed as though both of Alex’s aunts and their families had already arrived.

“James, Christine, you made it!” exclaimed Aunt Maggie as they let themselves in through the front door. Actually, it could have been Aunt Paula. Alex never had really paid enough attention at the scattered family gatherings to really take note of which one was which. “We didn’t think you were coming this year.”

“Oh, he knows better than to miss dad’s birthday,” his dad’s other sister, likely Paula, said with a smile. “Not when he makes such a big deal about it.”

Alex’s father simply grunted at the statement and dumped grandpa’s present on the pile by the coach. Alex knew it to be some sort of grabbing arm for old people, not that grandpa would ever use it. He claimed he was still as fit as a fifty year old.

“Where is he, anyway?” Alex’s mother asked.

“Where else would he be?” the aunt who was probably Aunt Maggie answered.

Alex’s dad nodded and gave Alex a little push down the hallway before he could find a place to sit down. “Go see your grandpa, Alex, while your mother and I catch up with your aunts. You know where he is.”

Alex sighed and made his way to the room in the middle of the spacious old house, the wooden floor creaking with each step. He opened the door to the den, called the ‘story room’ by most, and sure enough there sat Alexander Samuels. He looked older than Alex remembered him, though it had been a few years since he had last been forced to visit. He had a little less hair on his head, a little more in his ears, and was certainly more wrinkled, but he was smiling just the same as he always had.

As usual he was in the middle of telling one of his many tales to a gathering of Alex’s cousins. The room was dark, with only a single lamp creating an atmosphere of mystery as the man wove his story together. The children were enthralled by the tale, which Alex immediately recognized as ‘The Goblin and the Ogre,’ and didn’t even look over when he walked in. Not really wanting to listen but unable to steal the minivan and drive home, Alex slunk over to a corner and pulled out his Gameboy, hoping to avoid notice at least until the story was over.

“…a great rumbling came across the meadow. The ground shook and the sprites quaked in their pointy little shoes. A shadow covered the meadow, a massive mountain suddenly blotting out the light of the sun. Normally, mountains were not inclined to just show up in forest meadows, but Hoblin wasn’t one to complain as the shade was rather nice after running around in the bright sun all afternoon. It did strike him as odd that this mountain had feet, though.”

“All around, the sprites ran and flew about in a panic, shouting “Ogre!” over and over. Hoblin didn’t speak wood sprite, but that word sounded familiar. He looked back at the mountain with feet, looking up and up to take it all in. Now that he noticed, the mountain not only had feet, but legs atop those feet, with a body and a knobby bald head topping it all off. Come to think of it, maybe this wasn’t a mountain at all…”

Despite his attempt to engross himself in his game, Alex found himself listening to the familiar story. Hoblin the Goblin had always been one of his favorite characters, after all. His grandpa’s stories were always about his travels through some magical forest world called the Green, which he claimed to have explored alongside the well-meaning but often foolish goblin. A much younger (and much more dashing) Alexander and his goblin companion would battle trolls and monsters and rescue elf damsels and the like, and they’d always all live happily ever after. It all culminated in his triumphant victory over the dread dragon Ssvalith, thereby saving the Green from evil forevermore.

It was an unlikely narrative, one full of magic and mayhem, but one that to this day the old man swore was the honest truth. It was true that a long time ago when he had been eighteen or so he really had gone missing for a whole year, but everyone knew he had just gone off to see the world before coming home to settle down. Still, to watch him tell it, maybe he actually was crazy enough to believe his own stories.

Alex rolled his eyes at himself and turned up his headphones to block the story out. He was far too old to be listening to kid stories, and besides, he had died twice in his game from being distracted. Time passed and soon Alex found himself victorious over the forces of evil as usual. It always felt strangely satisfying, but the feeling was quickly gone. The game had been one of his birthday presents that morning, but had not even lasted him through the day. Looking up from his game he found himself alone in the dark room, the story having long since ended. From the rumble of his stomach it was also long past lunch time. Why hadn’t anyone come to get him? Hadn’t anyone even cared that he was there, potentially starving to death in the den?

Hoping his mom had saved him a hamburger he walked out of the room, shielding his eyes from the bright light streaming through the window out in the hall. Would it have killed grandpa to put a few more lamps in the den? Suddenly it seemed as though a shadow passed in front of the window, something small and winged. That strange feeling of nostalgia washed over him, but this time without any of the dread he had felt the last time. Before his eyes adjusted to the light both the feeling and the shadow was gone.

“I’m going crazy,” he said to himself, but even so he hurried past the window to where the rest of the family was gathered. “Probably just a bird.”

“Alex!”

He jumped as the door at the hall’s end burst open and was relieved that it was only his grandpa, wearing a pointy paper birthday hat.

“Did you enjoy my tale, earlier? Hoblin was always your favorite,” he asked, his smile beaming down at his eldest grandson.

“I…yeah, it was great,” Alex mumbled, suddenly interested in his feet. The old man reached out and turned Alex’s face up toward him, turning his head back and forth to get a better look at him. “Mmm, you don’t look so good. Have you been sick?”

“No.”

“Not sleeping well?”

“Kinda.”

“Nothing to eat today?”

“That’s it,” Alex answered, his stomach rumbling in well-timed agreement.

Grandpa slapped him on the shoulder. “Well then, get to the kitchen and grab you something. You should have eaten with the rest of us. Your father called you twice but you had your headphones up too loud. I think your mom saved you a plate, though.”

Alex began walking away, eager to eat and hopefully go home afterwards. His grandpa passed without another word, just humming some old song to himself until he reached the door to the den. Alex thought he recognized the tune, but he couldn’t place it.

“Nothing to eat,” the old man said to himself just loud enough for Alex to hear as he entered the room. “And here I was afraid my grandson was being followed by shadows. Silly me.”

The door to the den closed behind him, leaving Alex standing dumbfounded with his hand on the doorknob to the kitchen. What did he just say?

“Wait!” Alex cried as he hurried back to the den. There he found his grandpa sitting as if ready to tell another story.

“Oh Alex, I thought you were getting something to eat,” he smiled innocently as he rocked slowly in the worn out chair.

“In the hall, you said…what did you mean?” the boy stammered.

“Take a seat, Alex,” he said, gesturing to the floor in front of the chair. “I’m going to tell you a story.”

He hesitated, feeling silly for even being there. He almost walked away, almost said something about going to eat lunch. If he had, maybe his life would have been remained simple. He sat down, and his grandpa began to tell the tale. It began the same way his stories always did.

“Far away, in the land beyond the mists, hides the world of things unseen. It is a place of mystery and magic, where dreams and legends walk freely, a land of soaring mountain peaks, deep dark caves, crystal seas, expansive deserts, and ancient kingdoms. In the center of all of this is the forest. None know how deep it goes, for walking its twisted paths is sure to get one hopelessly lost. As far as anyone is concerned, the forest simply goes on forever, endless woodland filled with ancient magic. The forest goes by many names, but to those who live here, it is simply the Green.”

“Grandpa, I don’t see what…” Alex started to interrupt, but he went on without even taking notice.

“In days long past, the Green was so close to our own world that often it seemed as though the two had merged in places. The fae folk lived among us, hidden in deep places and rivers and the darkest forests, and to the people of those days they were as real as their next door neighbors. Over time, though, our worlds drifted apart, and those creatures, so like us and yet so different, became nothing more than myths and legends, folktales to tell around the fire to entertain children.”

“However, there are times when the worlds come together again, when the mists rise in the night. It is during these times that myths become real again and for a short moment magic exists in our world yet again. It was a night like that that I found myself in the Green, but then, that’s not the story for today. You see, the door swings both ways, so to speak, and sometimes something from the Green can slip through to our world. However, for such magical creatures the hold our world has to offer is not so strong these days and so they exist only as shadows…”

“Wait,” interrupted Alex, already skeptical. “You’re telling me that the things I keep seeing are fairies or elves or something?”

“You know the rule about interrupting my stories,” the old man scolded as if Alex were still six years old. “Sit quiet or you won’t get to hear the rest.” He stared down at Alex waiting to see if he’d dare interrupt again, which he almost did. Instead, the boy just sighed to himself and kept listening.

“So where was I? Oh yes, the shadows. Now, a shadow can only do what your own shadow is capable of. That is to say, beyond providing some shade and maybe frightening jumpy people, there’s not much they can accomplish. Unless of course…oh but that won’t happen.”

“What won’t happen?”

“So you believe the story?”

Alex shrugged. “Not really.”

“Then does it matter what might happen?”

Alex sat for a moment, not quite understanding what he was getting at. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” he answered after a moment.

The old man nodded. “I see. It happens to everyone, I suppose. Your father used to believe my stories, too, you know, but something about growing up makes children forget that magic exists. It’s a true shame. I won’t bore you with any more fairy tales, but I do have something for you. Think of it as a birthday present.”

He stood and walked over to an old trunk in the corner of the room. It had sat locked and forgotten in the corner of the room for as long as Alex could remember, but now it was opened. Alex stood to try to catch a glimpse of what was inside and caught a glimpse of metal, but it was closed before he could get near enough. His grandpa approached slowly, almost reverently, holding something behind his back.

“I’ve thought it over for years, wondering who I could pass this on to. I hoped it would be your father, but it became clear that he wasn’t the type for it. No imagination. He was too concerned with work and money and success even when he was your age. And your aunts…no, it just wouldn’t be right for them, either, and they have their families to worry about now. But you, Alex, you are different. You think you don’t believe in magic, but I know you better than that. No one has ever believed in my stories as much as you did when you were young, and I think under all that teenage attitude part of you still wants to believe. Maybe this will remind you of what you have lost.  Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

Alex complied, wishing that he had just continued on to the kitchen earlier. That hamburger would be awfully good about now. His grandpa pressed something into his hands and Alex opened his eyes to see a simple wooden flute. It was a little longer than the length of his hand from wrist to fingertip, and seemed rather crudely carved. The holes weren’t quite perfectly round, and along its length it was carved with a series of squiggly markings.

Alex honestly didn’t know what to say, so he went with the obvious.

“It’s a flute.”

“Yes it is, and a very special one at that.”

“But I don’t know how to play.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I think you know the song it can play better than you realize, and even if you don’t, maybe it’ll help you out to get you started. Just remember what I always taught you: magic dies only if you let it. If ever you find yourself alone and in need, use this, and help will arrive, though not necessarily the help you expect.”

“Uh, thanks,” replied Alex dumbly, not sure what to make of the gift. His grandpa laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, breaking the tension in the room.

“You don’t understand now, but you will when autumn comes. Everything will change when autumn comes. Now go get yourself something to eat. I’m thinking I could use another burger, myself. Tell everyone I’ll be in there in a minute.”

Alex left the room shaking his head, thinking that his grandpa had finally lost it. He looked back one last time before he closed the door to see him laughing to himself.

“When autumn comes…”

*

Chapter 2: Into the Green

The room was hushed, for tonight was a story that grandpa only told once a year, on the supposed anniversary of his trip to another world. Tonight’s tale was about the time he had first entered the Green. For the adults, it brought back nostalgic feelings from when they first heard this story when they were children, but for the little boy, it was more. It was a set of instructions.

“…so, there I was, lost in the woods out beyond the river. Now, I know you’ve all heard the stories. Local legends go back almost two hundred years telling of strange things that happen along that river: mysterious music that no one else hears, tales of ghosts and shadowy figures that follow you wherever you go, fog that creeps up out of nowhere. My friends all said they didn’t believe those tales, but not a one of them had the guts to go down there at night. Myself, though, I had something to prove, and when they dared me to go I felt I had no choice. ‘One night in the woods,’ they said, and I wasn’t going to chicken out. I was just a boy at the time, but in my mind I was a man who knew what I was doing.”

“My parents never told me if they believed the ghost stories or not, but there was no way my mother was going to let me go to find out. So, as soon as my parents went to bed, I was gone out the window like a thief in the night. Luckily the river wasn’t too far of a walk because there was no way I’d have gotten my bike out of the garage without waking my father. As simple as that, I made it across the fields to the woods, all the while thinking how clever I was. As the night grew deeper, though, even I began to get worried.”

“After a while, my fears started to get to me. As I went deeper and deeper into the woods I started seeing strange shadows out of the corner of my eye. A song played on the wind, barely heard, and it was a sound that came from no earthly instrument I’ve ever heard. Strange creatures called out in the night, animals like you’ve never heard, and some that almost sounded like they were talking! All stories that I had laughed at with my friends were true, I realized, and the more lost I became the more I started to panic.”

“Then I heard a voice, like a child calling out for help. What’s more, it was calling me by name. I ran through the woods, trying to find the voice, but it was dark and all around the mists had begun to rise off the river. I could barely see the nose in front of my face, and somehow I found myself falling. I must have passed out for a bit, but when I woke up there he was, right in front of me. I almost missed him at first, for he was no bigger than little Alex there, and he was covered from head to toe in mud. He said something had been chasing him, and asked if I could follow him home. I agreed, of course. He obviously needed my help, and besides, finding his house would mean finding my own way out of those woods.”

“We walked for a time in the dark and the fog, and all along the small boy rambled on about nonsense, about dragons and knights and elven kings and strange places I had never heard of. He told me that he had been looking for me, specifically, but had been chased down by wyrms and had almost gotten lost himself. I decided to humor him to help pass the time, so I asked what a wyrm was, and he explained that they were people made out of snakes, created by dark magic to serve a dragon. Can you believe that? I certainly didn’t, but it made for a good story.”

“Finally, I asked him how he knew my name, and that’s when he replied, ‘Why Mr. Samuels, it’s in the book. I know I wasn’t supposed to read it, but when I did I just had to find you. We need your help.’”

“I meant to ask what that could possibly mean, but at that moment he stopped walking and said, ‘We’re here.’ Before I could ask where ‘here’ was, for indeed it was nothing but more forest, suddenly the fog parted and a ray of moonlight shown down upon the child. But you see, it was no child, for no human child has such small, black eyes, or pointed ears, or tiny white tusks.”

“‘Thanks for helping me home, Mr. Samuels,’ it said, while I just stood there in shock. ‘By the way, the name’s Hoblin. You need anything while you’re here, just let me know.’”

“With that, the little creature trotted off, and try as I might I could not find my way back to the river and back to my home. For you see, my home was nowhere near this new place. I didn’t know it at the time, but soon I would learn that I had entered another world. And they called it the Green…”

*

The school year ended a few weeks after the birthday party, and Alex had a whole summer of doing nothing to look forward too. Fortunately there had been no more strange shadows to be seen, though for several more weeks he did occasionally get the feeling that something was watching him. For a time he had even kept the flute his grandpa had given him in his backpack just in case. In case of what, he had no idea, and every time he saw it he couldn’t help think how stupid it was that he even bothered carrying it. If someone really was stalking him it was certainly not a problem to be solved by flutes, magical or otherwise. Besides, on the time or two he had tried to play it he couldn’t even get it to make a sound. The instrument now resided in the bottom of his closet, forgotten alongside his other junk.

By July Alex was truly bored. It was too hot outside to even consider riding his bike around town, and videogames and daytime TV had long since lost their appeal. Worst of all, with nothing else taking up his time his father had him seeing Dr. Macintyre twice a week to ensure he’d be “well-centered and mentally balanced” by summer’s end. School, a thorn in his side but a few months before, was looking better and better every day.

“Everything will change when autumn comes,” his grandpa had said, and part of Alex really wanted to believe that. Maybe his life would be better. After all, he’d be thirteen this year, a teenager, and that meant he wouldn’t be at the bottom of the middle school pecking order anymore. That had to count for something. Maybe he’d join a club (nothing athletic this time, of course) or get a part-time job to fill his free time. As often as his allowance was taken away he could use the extra money. Yes, somehow things were definitely going to change. Hope for the future didn’t really do much for the present, though, with day after scorching day dragging on without end. Above all Alex wished for something, anything, to happen.

Unfortunately, something did happen.

It was a night in late July that found the boy once more staying up as late as possible. By this point even the late shows had ended and the only programs on seemed to be infomercials for preternaturally sharp kitchenware, but there was something about not having a bedtime that made him feel grown up. He did fully realize that actual adults more often than not couldn’t stay up as late as they wanted, but after 3am he decided that facts were irrelevant. In fact, maybe he’d just stay up all…

Well that didn’t work. Alex awoke in darkness with no idea how long he had been asleep. Someone had turned the TV off, so it was pitch black as Alex stumbled down the hall back to his room. The part of his mind that was awake noted it was unusually cold in his room, especially for a summer night. It must have been from the cool breeze blowing in from his open window. That woke him up completely: he hadn’t opened his window. In fact he had never opened it, not since his dad had severely impressed upon him that doing so would waste the air conditioning and drive up the electric bill, a most grievous sin in his eyes. There was someone in his room. Straining his eyes he could vaguely make out the silhouette of someone huddled on the floor at the foot of his bed. He moved casually acting as if he was moving to lie down and all the while inching towards the baseball bat he had kept at his bedside ever since he saw the shadow in the park.

“Got ya!” he yelled as he flipped on a lamp with one hand, raising the bat menacingly to the intruding pile of laundry. Maybe this was why his mom always wanted him to clean up his room. He laughed to himself as he lowered the bat, glad that no one had been around to see him. If he was jumping at shadows then maybe he really did need sleep. Bat in hand, he turned towards the lamp and froze, the blood draining from his face. Someone was in the room, standing right next to the open window. Even with the light from the lamp the figure was shrouded in shadow, but Alex knew immediately that this was the same person that he had seen in the park and at the baseball game. Faster than he could follow it darted towards him, and it was by pure reflex Alex swung his bat across its chest. The solid wooden bat went right through the thing, and it was then Alex realized the truth: the shadowy figure was just that, a shadow. He backed away in horror, unable to find his voice to call out for his parents, as several more shadows slunk in through the open window. In a matter of moments he was surrounded.

“Yesss,” one of them hissed. “Thisss iss the one.”

“Alexander…”

“The chancellor will be pleasssed.”

“Take him.”

Alex shrank back from the dark figures, but then he remembered his grandpa’s story: shadows can’t hurt anything unless…something. In retrospect, maybe he should have listened to that last part of the story. Still, if his bat could go through one of them, then what would stop him from just running out of the room? Alex dove into the group of shadows, thinking to pass through them and make his way out into the hallway to wake up his parents. He would not be so lucky. The creatures were suddenly solid, and in trying to pass through he slammed into one of them hard, knocking him back to the floor. The shadowy creature was equally surprised by the straight forward attack, though, and toppled over with him. Alex scrambled to untangle himself from the prone creature, which was looking less shadowy than it had a moment before. In fact, all of the shadows began to take on features, scaly skin and dark leathery armor becoming apparent as they became more substantial. Their heads were flat and narrow and set atop long necks, making them resemble a snake or lizard more than a human. Some even sported skinny, whip-like tails. Worst of all were the eyes: narrow yellow eyes with vertical slits for pupils whose gaze seemed to drain what little courage he had left. To be honest, Alex would have preferred that they remain shadows.

“The mistsss are strong thisss night,” the first shadow-turned-serpent said, holding up a hand before its cold gaze as if to assure itself that it was solid. “Now is our chance to ssstrike.” The monstrous thing reached to its belt, drawing forth a thin, jagged blade. Alex, still cowering on the floor, didn’t have to guess what the beast intended to do with it. He reached for his bat, but the one he had knocked to the floor casually flicked it out of reach with its tail. Alex backed up into his closet, reaching blindly behind him for a weapon. Shoes and old board games flew wildly at the advancing snake-things, and despite scoring a few solid hits here and there the monsters seemed to be enjoying themselves. Quickly running out of toys and keepsakes to fling at the monsters, Alex reached back again, his hand closing on a stick. He almost threw it without a thought, but then noticed that it was in fact the flute his grandpa had given him.

“If ever you find yourself alone and in need, use this, and help will arrive.”

Every instinct told him it was hopeless, that he should take his chances and run for it, try to make it out the door before that cruel dagger found him. Everything he knew said that these monsters didn’t even exist, couldn’t exist. In that moment he ignored all of that, all logic banished in faith that his grandfather had indeed been telling the truth all along, that the stories really were real. He played the flute.

The sound was perfect, like a soft breeze rushing through the trees. Though Alex didn’t know the melody, he played it all the same. Surprisingly, the snake-men recoiled in fear and pain at the sound, halting their advance. Fog began to seep in from the window into his room as the song played, gathering in a cloud at the back of the closet where Alex huddled. Alex faltered and missed a note as he watched the mist pass by, and as soon as the song ended his attackers recovered quickly from the instrument’s effects, looking at the boy with renewed malice.

“Well, are you coming or not?” asked a melodic voice behind him. Alex glanced back, but all he saw was the swirling fog the flute had created, already beginning to dissipate.

“What?” Alex asked, by this point completely overwhelmed by the events taking place in his bedroom.

Again the tiny voice, like the tinkling of bells, issued forth from the mist. “You did ask me to open the gate, didn’t you? Oh, I never get this right. Sorry to bother you.”

“Wait!” Alex crawled towards the mist reaching out to it just as the lead serpent leapt at him with his blade. The mist reached out and enveloped the boy, and the dagger’s only victim was Alex’s childhood bear pal, Mr. Bearsley. The snakemen looked at each other nervously, fearing their master’s wrath now that their prey had escaped. Without a sound they darted out the open window, fading back into shadows which disappeared into the night mists.

*

Alex’s head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Burning cotton. He was laying on something soft and moist, with a mossy feel to it. He couldn’t quite open his eyes, but his hands found that it was indeed moss. That mystery solved, he again slipped into unconsciousness. He had no idea how long he lay there, tossing and turning, tormented by dreams of snakes and towers and a wooden sword. He awoke suddenly, memories of the attack and the danger he was in rushing back. He was very much relieved to find that he was still intact, but looking around that was the only comfort he could find with the situation. He was no longer in his room, but rather he found himself lying on the ground in a shaded wooded area with massive oak trees closing in from all sides. The only sign of civilization were the tumbled remains of a stone archway standing on the other side of the small clearing. Of the horrid snake-creatures or his room there was no sign.

“Good morning!”

Alex jumped to his feet, hitting his head on a low hanging branch. He ignored the pain, and assumed what he thought was a tough, threatening pose. “Who’s there?”

“Well, there’s no need to be grouchy,” said the voice, which Alex recognized as the same he had heard coming from his closet. “I let you sleep all morning (and afternoon, and all night), so you’d think you could be a little less mean to me, especially after I went through all the trouble of dragging you to this nice comfy bed of moss, which wasn’t easy, let me tell you...”

Alex followed the rambling voice to a branch overhead, where sat a little girl: a very little girl. She couldn’t have been more than eight inches tall if she had been standing on her tip toes, with delicate limbs that gave her a fragile appearance. Her hair was a tangled mass of golden blonde curls, through which poked what appeared to be a pair of antennae.

“…and I even chased off all the ants that lived here so they wouldn’t bite you and they were not happy…”

The diminutive girl’s rambling was not helping Alex’s headache. “Who are you?” he interrupted.

“You don’t know? Wow, and here I thought everyone in this part of the forest knew me. I’m quite famous, you know, what with me and the princess being friends and all, not to mention everyone seems to enjoy my singing, though I don’t know why since to me I’m no better than any of my sisters…”

“Your name,” he insisted. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? My father is always telling me ‘Mind your manners, Autumn,’ or else…”

“So your name is Autumn,” Alex ventured, again interrupting before she went on another tirade.

“So you have heard of me!” she beamed with satisfaction. With a graceful leap, she jumped from the high branch. Startled, Alex moved to catch her, but as she plummeted she unfurled a pair of wings, golden like a leaf in the fall. She fluttered down quite safely, hovering just in front of the confused boy. “But I’m afraid I don’t know your name.” She cocked her head to the side as if looking at him for the first time. “What are you anyway?”

“What’re you?” Alex countered.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, twirling about in midair to give the boy a better look. He answered with a blank stare. “I’m a wood sprite, dummy. Wow, you aren’t too bright, are you? Oh I know! I bet you’re some kind of tall, pinkish goblin. Am I right? They are usually pretty slow in the head, and you don’t seem too quick yourself…”
“I’m not a goblin!” protested Alex. “I’m a person.”

“Goblins are people, too,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I’m a human!”

Autumn’s wings simply stopped flapping for a moment, and with a plop she fell to the ground. Alex smirked at her, having finally found a way to leave the chatterbox speechless. His satisfaction was short lived as she took to the air again, darting around faster than he could follow, and inspecting him from every angle.

“Oh wow, a human! I’ve never seen one before, oh well, I have seen one before but it’s been such a long, long time that I almost forgot what they looked like. Is it true you can breathe fire? Why are you so short? The last human to come to the Green was almost twice as tall…”

“Wait!” he yelled, managing to catch the sprite by the shoulders. Even held in place her wings fluttered and she continued to rattle off questions. “Where did you say I was?”

“Well, to be exact, you are at the Mossy Mistgate, one day’s flight north of Ghome and…”

Alex shook his head. “No, not ‘to be exact.’ What is this whole place called?” He feared he already knew the answer.

“The Green.”

Autumn yelped as Alex slumped to the ground, taking her with him. He was dreaming. Yes, that was it; he had fallen asleep and his infomercial-addled mind and had cooked this whole scenario up. After all, snakemen and sprites were just fantasy creatures like he used to hear about in his grandpa’s stories. It had to be a dream, and he was about to pinch himself to make sure when the struggling sprite did it for him with a bite on the hand.

“Ow!” he cried as he released Autumn, who zipped back up into the trees in a huff. Well, maybe that whole thing about being pinched not hurting in a dream was a myth, because the sprite’s bite had stung. Were sprites venomous? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense, and therefore wasn’t real. People simply didn’t fall through portals in their closets to other worlds that didn’t exist. Ergo, he was still obviously asleep as far as he was concerned. Confident in the solidarity of his logic, he resolved to just sit down and wait to wake up. An hour passed, and then two as he sat under the shade of the trees. Autumn occasionally burst into song, or asked him inane questions, and even flew off leaving him alone for a short time. As far as dreams went, this one was dull.

“Whatcha doing?” asked Autumn, fluttering down to sit atop Alex’s head. It was getting dark by now, Alex having spent the entire day waiting for the dream to end. By this point something was telling him that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t dreaming. Of course, that didn’t dispel the possibility that he had somehow gone insane and this was a hallucination, but he was fairly certain that he wasn’t going to just wake up in his room anytime soon.

“I’m really here, aren’t I?” he asked, no longer even disturbed by the fact he had a sprite on his head.

“Yep!”

“Well, you brought me here, didn’t you? You can send me back.”

“Nope!”

“Why not?”

Autumn shook her head. “I held the gate open on this side, but only ‘cause you opened it on yours.”

“But how?”

“You used a key.”

The flute! How could he have forgotten? It was what got him here; maybe it could get him back. He began frantically looking around, the sprite holding onto his hair to keep from being bucked off.

“Where is it?” he growled, not spotting the instrument.

“What’re you looking for?” Autumn asked, bending down over Alex’s head to look him in the eyes.

“My grandpa’s flute!” he yelled, “I played the flute, and then you came and I woke up here…ha, found it!” Alex bent to pick up the flute, lying next to where Autumn had left him (how had she managed to move him, anyway?). The motion caused the sprite to lose her grip, and she easily took to the air again, watching with interest as Alex tried to play the flute. All that came out was windy sputters, hardly the mystical music that had swept him to this place. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember the song that had played before, let alone how he had managed to play it. His music teacher had oft lamented his inability to play any sort of instrument without giving the class a headache.

“It’s not going to work,” Autumn taunted in a sing-song voice.

Alex briefly considered flinging the useless piece of wood at the sprite. “Why not?” he shouted.

“You don’t know how to play it, silly,” she laughed.

Alex glared at the sprite, fists clinched at his sides. “Why do you keep bothering me, anyway?”

Autumn, still flapping in midair, crossed her legs as if she were sitting and put a tiny hand up to her chin in thought. “Mmm, why am I here? Oh yeah, I remember! Kira’s father sent me. He’s some big important elf, you see, though I guess most elves think they are big and important, only he really is, and he told me to go to the Mossy Mistgate and wait for something important to come through. I thought it was silly, since no one uses these things anymore, but then you come tumbling through and turn out to be a big meany who keeps asking dumb questions and yelling at me…”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” he said to calm Autumn before she went on any further. Something she said had struck him as important. “So, you say someone knew I was coming? Who?”

“There you go, asking dumb questions again,” scolded Autumn. “If you’d listen more and talk less, I said that Kira’s father told me to come here.”

“Well,” started Alex, struggling to keep his voice calm, “I’m afraid I don’t know Kira or her father. What’s his name?”

“His name is Eyell’sevvet’alatiri’eternus, and he…hey, you never told me your name, did you? Look at me, spending all day getting grouched at by some nameless human…”

Eyell’sevvet’alwhatever? Alex recognized the name, or at least the first part of it, as the elf king whose great powers made him a major character in several of his grandpa’s stories. If it did turn out that he wasn’t going crazy and the stories really were true, then maybe the elf king would be someone who could help him get back home. If going home meant staying on this infuriating creature’s good side, then…

“Alex,” he interrupted with a forced smile. “My name is Alex.”

“Well, Alex, my name is Autumn,” she curtsied, a strange sight to see from someone hanging in midair, “and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. How’s that for manners?” she giggled.

“Well now that we’re introduced, do you think you could take me to Eyell’seved…whatever his name is?”

“Eyell’sevvet’alatiri’eternus,” she corrected. “Though I guess you’re right, it is kind of a dumb name when you say it all together like that. The other elves picked it for him when they picked him to be king, or else I don’t think he’d ever call himself something so weird, but you know elves…”

“Not really,” Alex interrupted, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “Could you take me to him?”

“Why else do you think I’ve been waiting here for you all day? Kira’s father said to bring back whoever came through the gate, but you didn’t look like you wanted to go anywhere and so there we sat all day and now it’s almost nighttime and while I’m not afraid of the dark you look like someone who…”

Alex let the sprite ramble on as they left the clearing. After a time it became an experiment to see exactly how long she could stretch out a sentence if he kept encouraging her with smiles and nods. Soon night was on in full, and Alex stumbled many times navigating through the thick undergrowth of the forest. Up until then it hadn’t really registered that he hadn’t been wearing shoes when the snakemen attacked, but luckily the ground was covered with soft layers of fallen leaves with few pokey objects. The giant oak trees loomed all around, forming a canopy of branches that blocked most of the feeble moonlight. If not for following the sprite’s voice he would’ve been hopelessly lost. Of course, from the meandering path she took him on, there was no guarantee that they weren’t both lost, anyway. Alex had never really been a fan of the outdoors, and now, wandering in the dark forest, hungry, tired, and with a lingering headache from both his journey, the bump on his head, and the sprite’s chattering, he was thoroughly miserable. What’s worse, the forest as alive with animals (or at least he hoped they were just animals), moving quickly half-seen through the undergrowth. He occasionally saw eyes peering at him in the dark, and though their chatter didn’t quite sound like a language he swore that they were laughing at him.

After what seemed hours of walking, Autumn stopped.

“We’re here!” she proclaimed. Alex quickened his step, energized by the thought of seeing Eyell and getting out of this nightmare as soon as possible. In his haste on leaving the tree line he almost tumbled to disaster, as the sprite had led him to the edge of a steep cliff. He pulled up short, his harsh words for the sprite forgotten from the sight of the vista laid out before him. Stretching out for what seemed forever, from atop the ridge Alex saw forest all around, leaves seeming to glow silver in the moonlight. Here and there brighter lights shone from the treetops themselves, sure signs of habitation.

What caught Alex’s attention though was what lay beyond all that: a magnificent city all aglow in the night. It was as if someone had dropped a chunk of downtown Manhattan right in the middle of the forest. Skyscrapers stretched impossibly high into the night sky, and around them spread a sprawling mass that had to house tens of thousands. The whole of the city was surrounded by towering walls that seemed to hold the outside forest at bay. After all that wilderness he had just gone through, Alex had been afraid he’d never see civilization again.

“Wow,” he proclaimed, awestruck. “Is that where we’re going?”

“What?” asked Autumn, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “No, that’s Ghome, where all those crazy gnomes live. You don’t want to go there.”

“But you just said ‘We’re here.’ Where are we?”

“We’re at my favorite lookout spot. Since we’re friends and all now, I wanted you to see it. Isn’t it beautiful?” The sprite twirled in the air, spreading out her arms as if to take in the view.

“So where’s Eyell?” Alex asked, his voice shaking.

“Oh yeah, you wanted to see him. The elves live back the other way. I guess this was a little out of the way, but I think it was worth seeing, don’t you?”

What little patience Alex had left burned away. He was tired, bruised, scared, and now even further away from the one person who possibly be able to get him home, all because a fictitious creature had wanted to go sightseeing?

“What is the matter with you?” he yelled. “I’m trying to get home, and you take me in the exact opposite direction I need to go? What is wrong with you? I shouldn’t even be here! You shouldn’t be here! Sprites don’t exist!”

Autumn looked on the verge of tears, “I think I exist,” she said softly, but Alex wasn’t listening. He ran back into the woods, going in what he hoped was the general direction of the elves Autumn had mentioned. Elves? Alex laughed bitterly as he ran, not believing he was running from one imaginary fairytale to another. It was tough going through the trees, with the forest seemingly getting darker and more tangled as he went. Nothing looked familiar as he went deeper in, and within minutes he was now sure he was lost. That didn’t matter: one way was as good as another at this point.

Branches snagged at his clothing and scratched his bare arms, and several times he stubbed his toes on exposed roots. Finally the inevitable happened, and Alex found himself tumbling headlong as something snagged his ankle. He winced as he hurtled towards the ground, but strangely the expected impact never happened. Instead he found himself being dragged upward by his leg, and within moments he was hanging from a branch by his ankle. What he had though to be a vine or root turned out to be a snare of rope.

“Help! Autumn!” he yelled, his frantic wriggling bouncing him up and down the rope. Something moved down below, and for a moment Alex held out hope that the sprite had come to rescue him. Something or someone began to lower him back to the ground.

“I’m sorry I yelled out you Autumn,” he said gratefully. “I…”

That’s when he noticed the cage below him. He dropped the last few feet into the open top of the cage, which closed with a clang above him. All around him short dark forms hurried about, clanking as they moved as if they wore some kind of armor. Before he could get a good look at one, a tarp was thrown over his prison, putting him in complete darkness.

“Intruder apprehended, Commander,” one of them said in a voice that sounded not unlike someone who had breathed in too much helium.

“Excellent work, soldier,” replied a gruffer yet still squeaky voice. “You’ll make sergeant for this.”

“But sir, I already am…”

“Haul it away!” interrupted whoever was in charge, and with the revving of a motor Alex felt his cage lurch into motion. “Good work, boys. Next stop: Ghome.”

*

Chapter 3: Escape from Ghome

The little boy tugged on his grandpa’s pant leg. “What is it, Alex?” he asked, always happy to talk with his favorite grandson.

“When you tell your stories, how come you’re the only person in them?”

“Oh, but there are lots of people in my stories,” he answered, not sure where this question came from. “Why, there are the elves and King Eyell, Hoblin, the Ogre…”

“I mean people like us,” he interrupted.

“Oh, you mean ‘why aren’t there any other humans in my stories?” The boy’s grandpa stood silent for a moment as if he wasn’t going to answer. He almost looked sad, but then he perked up and went right into story telling.

“Well, now of course since the Green is not our world, you won’t find many humans there, unless they’re lost like I was. However, if any race in the Green was said to most closely resemble humanity, it is the gnomes, and that is indeed a frightening thought.”

“Gnomes, as you already know, are a funny little folk. They look just like us, only they are much shorter, with great, big noses and beady little eyes. They take pride in their grooming and appearance, always taking special care of their long beards and going to great lengths to dress at the height of fashion. Above all that, though, gnomes are a people driven by knowledge and industry, and especially lovers of bureaucracy. As such they are prone to taking even the simplest of tasks and complicating it with research, committees, subcommittees, and devices of questionable use.”

“They are wonderful builders and inventors, creators of the most fabulous contraptions, but more often than not you’ll find their creations were made not because they were needed, or even wanted. No, a gnome invents simply for the sake of inventing, and builds for the sake of building. Lucky for them, and everyone else in the Green, for that matter, they are too busy moving on to the next project to actually put most of their ideas to use. Otherwise, who knows what dangerous creations they might unleash?”

“Did you ever meet any gnomes?” the child asked. “You don’t talk about them much.”

“Well, let’s just say that gnomish hospitality is something you should strive to avoid. Gnomes are great companions in small numbers, but situations always seem to get worse the more gnomes you add in. Their great city of Ghome is quite a sight to behold, but best that you admire it from afar.”

“But why?”

“With any luck, you won’t find out. However, there was one gnome I met whom I was glad to call a friend. Reginald VonHalderson was his name…”

*

Alex lay half-awake, listening to the sounds of the city outside his room. All that had happened the day before was nothing more than fading nightmare as he lay there in his bed. Everything seemed so normal, except that the city outside his window seemed a little busier than his neighborhood should have been, and his bed seemed awfully hard, like stone. In fact, it was stone, and not really a bed at all. Alex bolted upright, groaning as he realized he was in some kind of prison cell, three stone walls with a fourth wall of iron bars. He briefly wondered why he had been dumped on the floor until he noticed that the actual bed was barely three feet long. From what he could see, other cells lined the hallway, though they seemed empty from what he could see. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, having passed out from pure exhaustion long before the cage he had been dropped into had stopped moving. Everything about the capture came rushing back to him and he slumped against the bars, a wave of hopelessness washing over him.

He sat alone for a long while, wracking his brain for a way to escape. The bars were too close together to squeeze through, and the single window was only large enough for a bit of sunlight to get through and too high for him to even see outside. It really didn’t matter anyway, he decided. Even if he got out of the cell where would he go? He had overheard enough before falling asleep to know that he was most likely in Ghome, the gnome city he had seen the night before. That meant he was alone in a walled city full of what seemed hostile, xenophobic little people. Many of his grandpa’s stories had focused on the antics of gnomes, but Alex never imagined they’d be so harsh to outsiders. Even on the off chance he made it out into the forest, then what? Eyell was still probably his best chance to get away from this crazy world, but without Autumn he had no idea how to find him. After the way he had treated her there was no way she’d be willing to help him.

He lay down on the floor again, waiting on whatever fate the gnomes had in store for him when he rolled onto what felt like a stick. It seemed that somehow he had managed to hold onto his grandpa’s flute during the capture. Maybe if they let him out he could fling it at someone as a distraction and make a break for it. No, that wouldn’t be right, he decided. Not only was the flute most likely his ticket home, but it had been a gift, after all. Granted, it was a gift that had dumped him on an alien planet, but a gift all the same.

Maybe if he had paid more attention to his grandpa’s story when he had been given the thing he wouldn’t be in this mess. It was if the old man knew exactly what was going to happen, or had even planned it.

“When Autumn comes,” he said to himself, finally seeing it as an obvious reference to the sprite. His mind went back to the winged shadow he briefly glimpsed at the old man’s house. Had she been there even then, plotting to steal him away? Surely his own grandpa wouldn’t seek to put him in danger, but the fact remained he somehow knew Alex would end up in the Green.

If grandpa’s stories really were all true, that opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Maybe the goofy old man really had been a hero in this world, a slayer of dragons as hard as that was to imagine, and now he had given Alex a chance to come and see it for himself. Never mind that in the last thirty or so hours he had been almost killed by monsters, lost in an alien forest, kidnapped, and now hopelessly abandoned for who-knows-how long in a tiny gnomish prison cell. Maybe he’d have a story to tell when he got back home, though hopefully it wouldn’t be a long one. He had no intention of staying any longer than it took to find the elf king and have him whisk him back to reality.

On a whim he lifted the flute to his lips and began to play, surprised that he managed a few weak notes of the same unknown song that had brought him here. Maybe all he needed was practice. His playing was interrupted when the doors at the end of the hall burst open. In marched twin lines of stumpy armored figures, the tallest of which barely came up to the boy’s waist. They were definitely gnomes straight out of grandpa’s stories, judging from the large bulbous noses thrust proudly forth from their plumed helmets, all sporting long curly mustaches. In their four-fingered hands they clutched ornately decorated spears which they kept leveled at Alex as they formed a defensive semi-circle around the cell door (so much for a desperate and heroic escape attempt). Behind these fierce little warriors came a group of what Alex understood to be more conventional gnomes. Each was dressed impeccably in suits and hats that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the 1800s, and all had neatly trimmed, often elaborate facial hair. The one leading the pack was rotund beyond reason, almost as wide as he was tall, and was covered head to toe in a nigh ridiculous amount finery.

“Well, then, what have we here?” rumbled the hefty gnome in a voice much deeper than any gnome Alex had yet heard. “I’ll have you know, lad, that I was at a very important dinner party with the archduke of Lower Westchestersonshire’s third cousin Thadamoore, when I was told we were being invaded by tall pink goblins. Now after being dragged to this filthy place I see for myself the truth of the matter. Well if it’s war your want then we will be forced to oblige. What do you have to say for yourself?” A chorus of support sounded from the surrounding gnomes.

“Explain yourself!”

“Intruder!”

“Invader!”

“Uncouth!”

“Mr. President,” interrupted one of the large gnome’s attendants. “I don’t believe this is…”

“An advance scout for an army? A spy? An invader?” the President finished for him. “Archibald, my boy, you have much to learn about military maneuverings. The great city of Ghome has never fallen to an invading force, not even during the height of the War, and why? Vigilance! Can’t have monsters snooping too close to our fair metropolis, now can we? This goblin was no doubt sent by the Dreaded Plog itself to lay low our defenses, and then where would we be? Why, if I had allowed that type of behavior from our enemies during the Ogre Standoff Crisis…”

“I’m not a monster,” protested Alex. “I’m a…”

“Interrupting the President?”

“Preposterous!”

“Pretentious!”

“Uncouth!”

Alex was drowned out in a tumult of pompous gnome indignation as the president’s attendants defended their leader’s honor. The line of gnomish soldiers hefted their spears as if preparing to charge, and for a moment Alex thought he was doomed.

“Silence!” roared the President, his beard bristling more than it already did. “I’ve heard enough! Have this giant goblin thrown in the maximum security penitentiary and double the patrols around the city. Spare no expense! We’ll root out the rest of their scouts and stop the invasion in its tracks. These are dangerous times we live in, dangerous times, and I’ll not brook invaders attacking my constituents. Also, inform the city guard to take better care in cleaning their holding facilities. The dust in here is appalling.”

“A fine decision!”

“What a leader!”

“A king among gnomes!”

“Couth!”

“Wait!” That last yell was not a compliment, but rather a plea from a young gnome who came running into the room. He was gasping for breath, his youthful, beardless face flushed red from exertion. He waved a handful of crumbled papers in his hand, but lacked the breath to tell anyone what they were.

“What’s all this, then?” grumbled the President, snatching the papers and smoothing them over his considerable stomach. “Let’s see…request for prisoner custody…dire importance...Department of….what?” He glared at the messenger. “Master VonHalderson, what is the meaning of this? What business does the Department of Human Affairs have to do with the impending goblin invasion?”

VonHalderson? Alex thought the name sounded familiar, but the gnome before him was too young to be one of the characters from grandpa’s stories.

“We have reason,” gasped the gnome, “to believe that the prisoner is, in fact, a human.”

“That’s right!” agreed Alex, who decided against further agreement as multiple spear tips inched closer to his cage.

“A human?” questioned the President, sounding unconvinced. “Why, there hasn’t been a human in the Green for quite some time, ever since that dragon nonsense. Besides, everyone knows that humans are a myth.” Alex was baffled by the lack of logic to that statement, but no one else seemed to notice.

“What about the knight, Leomu…” started one of the other gnomes, but he was silenced with a glare by his fellows.

“A myth!” repeated the President.

“Be that as it may,” continued VonHalderson, gaining his breath and his composure, “as a duly appointed agent of the Minister of Human Affairs, it is my duty to take custody of this creature until its humanocity can be verified.”

The President’s visage soured considerably. “Very well, but you’d best tread carefully. I’ve an election coming up, and if I lose one vote from any human-related scandals, I’ll be sure that it’ll reflect in your bi-weekly evaluation. Do I make myself clear?” Mr. VonHalderson looked terrified at the thought, but nodded and began directing the guards to relocate Alex to his offices.

He was guided at spear-point into a cage on the back of what looked like a miniature flatbed truck. The cage was again covered before being driven out into the city streets. After seeing the reaction he got from the weird little men, Alex had to wonder if it was more to keep him from seeing out or to keep the gnome populace from looking in. He supposed to such creatures he’d seem to be some kind of a giant, which wasn’t a horrible thought to a boy who had always been just a bit short for his age. Still, he had begun to see why his grandpa had warned him about the creatures. At least the younger one who had taken him seemed reasonable, so maybe there was some hope that he’d get out of this place in one piece. All he had to do was play his cards right and who knew? Maybe he could even get the gnomes to help him get home. They didn’t seem to want him here, so all the more reason to send him on his way, right? All he’d have to do is cooperate.

He sat quietly for a time, listening to the sounds of the gnome city outside the cage as the truck slowly made its way through the streets. It didn’t sound so unlike a regular city, which was comforting in a way. It was better than being lost in the woods, in any case. He didn’t know how far he was being moved, but maybe he’d have enough time to think of something good to say to get him on this VonHalderson’s good side.

“Alex!” The cage rattled fiercely as something slammed into it.
“Autumn?” he asked aloud, recognizing the sprite’s voice.

“I’m here to rescue you!” she yelled as the cage rattled again. How was she doing that? Outside the gnomes started yelling and the truck sped up.

“No, it’s all right!” he called back as the cage rocked dangerously. The truck swerved, off balance, finally coming to a rapid halt that sent Alex bouncing all about. Ever so slowly, the cage tipped off the back end, sending Alex crashing painfully to the ground. The fall jarred open the cage’s door, and out crawled Alex through the loose folds of the covering tarp.

“Alex, you’re safe!” beamed the sprite, zipping over to give him a hug.

“I was safe,” he muttered. All around terrified gnomes stood gawking at the strange creature standing in their streets. Up ahead the pair of gnome soldiers who had been transporting him jumped out of their vehicle, drawing short swords as they advanced cautiously towards the fugitive.

“Gee, Alex, they look angry,” remarked Autumn as Alex extracted himself from her grasp. “Did you yell at them, too? You yell an awful lot, you know, and it’s really bad for your singing voice, though come to think of it I’ve never heard you sing, and not to mention it’s mean…”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Alex interrupted, backing away from the armed and dangerous gnomes. “Now can we get out of here?”

“Oh, but I’ve never actually been in Ghome before. I bet there’s a lot of neat stuff here and I saw a shop just twelve blocks down that had the most darling little power tools and I’ve never really needed a belt sander but you never know when you may need to smooth somethi…yipe!”

Alex grabbed the sprite by the arm as the gnome soldiers lunged and took off running down the street. His longer legs quickly left the heavily armored gnomes behind, but he had no idea where to go. Now that he could actually see it, Ghome was not a normal city. The gnome city was a confusing tangle of streets, sidewalks, tubes, overhead walkways, and seemingly unnecessary stairways and ramps. Cars of sorts did roll down the streets, but just as often they walked about on mechanical legs. To make things worse, the entire city was covered in a haze of steam and smoke emanating from the gnomish machines. Everywhere he went the sidewalks and avenues were clogged with gnomes going about their daily business, many of which seemed too busy to even notice a mythological human dragging along a complaining wood sprite even as he pushed past them or even jumped over their heads. Alex tried to keep the city’s looming walls in sight, but there seemed to be no straight path out of town. Thankfully any pursuit was equally slowed by gnomish commerce. The armored gnomes had no choice but to slog through the crowds and were quickly left behind.

After several minutes of running Alex saw no signs of his captors and decided to take a much needed rest. A summer of inactivity and general lack of interest in athletics had left Alex unused to such exertion, and with its high buildings and walls blocking all wind the heat generated by thousands of gnomes and their machines was getting to him.

He ducked into a building (literally due to the size of the doors) to rest for a moment, finding himself in what looked like a café. Around him gnomes sat down to their lunches, loudly discussing the latest business deal or complaining about the President. Few even bothered to glance his way as squeezed into a booth in the corner.

“Ooh, are we getting lunch? Can I get a drink or should I just get water, you know, to save money? Ooh, are you a soup person or a salad person because I can never really decide…”

“Do I look like I have any money?” Alex interrupted, gesturing to his dirty pajamas and bare feet. His stomach growled as if to mock his poverty. He hadn’t eaten since he came to this world, and he found himself staring hungrily at the tables around him. “I don’t even know what gnomes use for money,” he admitted.

“We use these!” proclaimed someone, scattering a handful of silver coins on the table. Alex looked up from his stomach to see a gnome standing before him. There was an adventuresome look to him, clad as he was in sturdy boots and simply cut clothes accented only by the gold buttons on his vest pockets. It was a major departure from the classy garb he had seen most others wearing. That’s not to say he didn’t look as ridiculous as the next gnome, with his wide brimmed red hat and spiraling waxed mustache, with an eye patch over his left eye completing the ensemble.

“Riley Haussenfeld, at your service,” he said with a bow and a sweep of his hat. “Or Riley ‘Fleetfeet’ to my friends,” he added with a wink (or would it count as a blink?) of his good eye. “I take from your stature and unusual manner of dress that you aren’t from around here.”

“I’m originally from the Spritewood, as you can probably guess, but I do like to travel so…”

Both Alex and Riley gave the sprite a flat look that stopped her short. “I was talking about the you-know-what,” said the gnome with a nod towards Alex.

“You know what I am?” asked Alex, intrigued.

Riley looked about with a shifty eye to see if anyone was listening, and then answered in a lowered voice. “Everyone knows what you are; they’re just trying not to notice. Most folk here would rather not deal with the trouble and hassle that your kind brings, so they’re content to ignore you until the authorities catch you and turn you over to the Department of Human Affairs for safekeeping.”

“But your leader wanted to throw me in jail,” Alex observed.

“Who?” Riley asked with an amused expression on his face. “If you’re talking about our president, pay him no mind. He’ll be gone in a few weeks.” Seeing Alex’s confused look, he elaborated. “The office of president is up for election on a monthly basis, so they never really get anything done. Keeps the populace busy, you know, makes ‘em feel involved in the process. The real powers in this city are the bureaucrats, the department ministers and such. They’re the ones you need to watch out for.”

“Well if everyone is supposed to ignore me,” Alex said, “why are you talking to me?”

“Far be it from me to let a dirty, scared, ‘imaginary’ creature go hungry just to satisfy my people’s social oddities,” he said with a smile as he hopped into the booth next to Autumn. “Waiter!” he beckoned. “Bring us a menu!”

It was the best thing Alex had heard all day.

*

Alex ate enough for five gnomes, much to the woe of Riley’s pocketbook and to the delight of the café’s owner. Alex briefly considered the dangers of eating unknown food in a strange land, but that fear only lasted until the complimentary bread had been served. Riley sat quietly, letting the human eat while keeping an eye on the door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Autumn asked around a mouthful of fruit. Her entire meal consisted of only a small handful of grapes.

“Like a hundred angry gnome soldiers?” guessed Alex around a mouthful of what he hoped was chicken.

“Nothing quite so overt,” replied Riley,” but in this town, there’s no shortage of those who’d try to use the presence of a human to turn a profit.”

“What about you, then?” questioned Alex. “What do you get from helping me?”

Riley seemed shocked for a split second, but then smiled, impressed by how quickly the boy caught on. “I’m glad that you asked,” he said. “I do stand to profit from you, just as you stand to profit from me. Mutually beneficial, it is! Let’s skip the small talk then: you seem like a man who doesn’t want to be where he is. You want to go back to your own world, correct?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Alex.

“Well, if anyone can get you home, it’s the elves, and it just so happens that I am a…,” he paused, as if looking for the right word, “business associate with Ishari, the elven chancellor. If you need to speak with Eyell…”

“How’d you know we were looking for Eyell?” interrupted Alex.

Again a flash of surprise showed on the gnome’s face, but in as long as it took Alex to blink the surprise was replaced with the same wry smile. “Anyone looking to get out of the Green has to talk to the elf king. No one knows more about the Mistgates that bring folk in and out of the forest. Stick with me and I’ll get you an appointment with Eyell’s right-hand man, or elf, as it were. Not only is Ishari his closest advisor, he is the king’s brother by marriage, to boot.”

“You still didn’t say what you get out of it,” stated Alex.

“Are all humans this suspicious?” the gnome mumbled. “It is a known fact,” he continued more boldly, “that Chancellor Ishari is always interested in artifacts and lore from your world for his collections. A while back he got his hands on quite a library of books from your world, you see, and ever since he’s been simply fascinated with human culture. If I bring him a living, breathing human, he’ll no doubt be grateful just for the opportunity to speak with you, and that means profit for yours truly. A finder’s fee, if you will. Simple as that. So,” he concluded, sticking out his hand, “do we have a deal?”

Alex hesitated for a moment. Nice as the gnome was, something about him didn’t seem right. Maybe it was just the fact that until yesterday, gnomes didn’t exist as far as he was concerned. Still, at least he was honest about his intentions, greedy though they were, and Alex could use all the help he could get to get out of the city. He shook Riley’s pudgy hand, sealing the deal.

“Perfect!” laughed the gnome. “I’ll make arrangements to see you out of the city at once. You’ll not regret this.” Riley bounded out of the café, leaving a stack of coins on the table to pay for the meal. “Just wait here!” he called as he ran out the door.

Autumn waved goodbye to the gnome as he left. “He seems nice.”

Alex nodded but didn’t say anything. It did all seem a little too convenient, but still, hadn’t Riley been straightforward enough so far? Looking at Autumn, who had begun an impromptu dance on the table, it was clear that he desperately needed a more level-headed guide. He resolved to follow the gnome, sure that if anything happened he could simply use his size to overpower the tiny man. He hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, though, as he did find himself liking Riley, especially after being fed.

Riley returned in a matter of minutes, lugging along canvas backpacks and satchels brimming with supplies, tools, and other equipment. It was almost as if he had prepared for this beforehand.

“Hey, wasn’t your eye patch on the other eye a minute ago?” Autumn asked.

“What? That’s crazy talk. Comments like that are why I never deal with sprites when I can help it. Now here, boy, put these on.”

The gnome reached into a bag and tossed Alex a pair of shoes, a little old fashioned for his tastes but still better than walking through city streets or forest floors barefoot. They even fit, and for the first time Alex noticed just how large gnome feet were in relation to the rest of their bodies.

“We’d best be off soon,” said Riley, fitting the larger of the backpacks to Alex as he tried on his new shoes. “I saw that VonHalderson fellow snooping around a few doors down.”

“That guy from Human Affairs?” questioned Alex, recognizing the name. Why did it seem so familiar? “He didn’t seem so bad.”

“Appearances can be deceiving. What do you think would happen if he caught you?” Alex started to answer, but Riley cut him off. “I’ll tell you what would happen: studies, experiments, press conferences, endless questioning before committees. I’m sure they’d treat you alright, but you’d be lucky to ever get away. Ever.”

Alex had a brief but vivid vision of spending his entire life in some type of gnomish zoo, being stared at by well-dressed little tourists. He shuddered, then stood and tightened the straps for his pack. “Let’s get out of here.”

The café owner, having just made a half day’s worth of income from Alex’s human-sized meal, had no issue with letting the trio leave through the kitchen. From there Riley led them down a series of twisting alleyways and side streets that somehow managed to avoid the worst of the crowds. They stopped a short way from the towering stone walls ringing the city, far from any of the guarded gates.

“So what now?” asked Alex. “Do we go over?”

“You wish,” grinned Riley, who bent to remove a grate in the middle of the street. A variety of exotic odors wafted forth from the opening, none of them pleasant.

Autumn crinkled her nose and began fluttering towards the wall. “Well, you guys have fun down there. It really is a pity that none of you have wings, but I guess I’ll just have to meet you on the other side of the wall when you two get out of…aeiii!”

Alex grabbed the sprite and tucked her under his arm as he walked back over to the hole, where Riley had already climbed down. They slipped in without anyone noticing and were on their way out of the city. Well, almost without anyone noticing.

*

Chapter 4: Of Goblins and Bureaucrats

“Never in all the world could I have imagined a more beautiful sight than the Green…” grandpa started to say, but was interrupted by the boy’s grandmother clearing her throat loudly from the other room. “Other than your grandma, of course,” he corrected with a sly wink, which made the child giggle.

“As I was saying, the Green is truly a sight to behold. Imagine a forest, though not like any Earthly forest you’ve ever seen. No, imagine a forest untouched by any sign of sickness or decay, one that has never known a winter and is instead ever vibrant and full of life. As far as anyone in the Green knows, it stretches on forever in all directions, and after having walked over as much of it as I did when I was young, I believe it. Everywhere you go there is something new to see, new people to meet, new adventures to be found. That’s not to say that the Green is without its dangers, but what’s life without a little excitement every now and then? Yes, it’s a place without equal, a paradise the like of which you’ll not find on this world.”

“Will I ever get to see it?” his grandson asked with hope in his eyes.

The old man hesitated for a moment as the boy’s grandmother passed by the open door. When she had passed he bent down close with a grin and whispered, “Maybe when you’re a little older.”

*

Never would Alex have ever imagined a more pristine sewage system as that under the city of Ghome. The meticulous gnomes had gone to great lengths to provide proper sanitation and drainage, and though there was a certain odor to it all, otherwise the tunnels really weren’t as dark and dank as was expected of most sewers. Not that Alex had ever been in a sewer, personally, but at least he had seen enough movies to compare. Even the rats seemed well behaved and, inexplicably, groomed. Riley, who seemed disturbingly proficient at sneaking out of the city, seemed to know the path by heart, taking his new companions under the wall and into the outer tunnels less in than an hour. The tunnels ended at a grate spilling into the woods some distance from the city walls, and after quickly picking the large padlock Riley guided them out into the open.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” the gnome asked as he gingerly picked his way through the muck to dry ground.

“You didn’t relock the grate,” Alex noticed, but Riley waved it off.

“The guards are overpaid and under worked. It’d do ‘em some good to have some goblins or what-have-you loose in the tunnels. Leave it open I say.”

Alex hesitated, less concerned with the possibility of wildlife moving into Ghome’s sewers than he was with slowing down any pursuit. He decided to follow the gnome’s lead, leaving the grate open. Riley had led them well so far, getting him out of the city almost too easily. At this rate he’d be among the elves in no time and on his way back home. It’d been days since he had touched a video game, and he was feeling the pangs of withdrawal.

Away from the muck and stank of the sewer grate, the forest really wasn’t unpleasant. Tall oaks and other trees that Alex didn’t know the names for towered overhead, shading their path from too much sun but still allowing enough light through in some places for patches of flowers or grass to grow. Brightly covered songbirds and unusually fuzzy squirrels chattered and chirped in the boughs, and occasionally larger, unseen wildlife rustled in the bushes. A gentle breeze wound its way through the trees, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the sound of distant laughter and song.

“Where’s that music coming from?” Alex asked, straining to listen to the distant melody. Something about it sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“What music?” Autumn asked, even as she hummed along to the same tune.

“Boy must have taken one too many blows to the head when they caught him,” Riley said with concern. “It’s not good to be hearing music which ain’t. Maybe we should set up camp for the night early.”

Alex shook his head as the sound of the music faded away. “I’m fine,” he assured them, thought now that he thought about it he had hit his head several times since he had arrived. At any rate, he definitely wanted to put as much distance between himself and Ghome as possible before stopping. “How far away are the elves?” he asked after a few moments as a change of subject.

Riley didn’t slow his steady gait at the question. “Just a few days of brisk walking,” he answered as if the journey was nothing unusual.

Alex’s face sank at the news. “Days?”

“Of course, days. Elves are wild folk, wanderers and hunters. Their tribes keep to themselves, and they aren’t much for living close to civilized places like in the old days, especially places as civilized as Ghome,” explained Riley. “Combine that with us sticking to the back trails instead of the main roads for a while so we don’t run into any more trouble and it’ll be at least three or four days until we reach the part of the forest called the Mists.”

“Where Eyell’s castle is,” Alex mumbled to himself, suddenly recalling his grandpa’s tales about the place. Riley eyed him askance and continued his explanation.

“Like I was saying, the elves don’t gather often, but when they do they congregate around the old ruins where Eyell holds court. It’s hard to find if you ain’t an elf, but I’ve been there a time or two, so we should have no trouble, and with luck he’ll be there when we arrive.”

“And if he isn’t there?” asked Alex, fearing the answer.

“You wait for him,” replied the gnome. “Me, I’ll be off after speaking with my old pal the chancellor.”

Alex stopped in his tracks. “You’re leaving me alone?”

“Don’t worry, Alex!” chimed Autumn, settling atop Alex’s backpack. “I’ll keep you company until the king sends you home.” Alex groaned and walked on, more eager than ever to get back to his old life.

“The way will get easier once we hit the Ogre Highway,” remarked Riley as they pressed on, “so for now you’ll just have to tough it out.”

Alex nodded and marched without complaint. There was no trail to speak of, but after miles of hiking cross-country through the woods Riley had finally managed to find a narrow path that he claimed would lead in the right direction. Hours of yet more walking passed and finally darkness began to fall over the forest. Riley led them off the path to a patch of relatively flat ground shielded from view by a stand of young pines. Alex gratefully dropped his backpack and collapsed to the ground, exhausted, as the gnome went about setting up a camp. Autumn attempted to help, but ended up being chased up a tree by an angry Riley after somehow pinning the gnome’s shoe to the ground with a tent stake.

“Riley,” Alex called as he unpacked his own bag to find nothing but food and cooking supplies, “I can’t find my tent.”

“I couldn’t find a tent big enough for a human that I was willing to pay for,” admitted Riley as he set the last stake for his own snug little tent. “You’ll have to sleep outside. You’re not afraid to rough it are you? Good!” he answered before Alex could say anything. “We’re still too close to the city to have a campfire, too, so I’ll loan you some extra blankets for tonight.”

Alex sighed and nodded. Maybe a gnomish prison would have been better after all.

After a simple meal of bread, some kind of dried meat, and some berries that the sprite had found nearby, the three went to their beds for the night: Riley to his tent, Autumn curling up in her own wings on a branch overhead, and Alex miserably trying to cover himself with a pair of gnome-sized blankets. The pine needles that littered the forest floor were surprisingly soft, but they poked at him relentlessly. All around the camp unknown creatures chattered and howled in the darkness, some right in the trees surrounding them. Yes, he definitely would have been better off staying with the gnomes, who, with the exception of his guide, seemed to value the comfort of their city. He closed his eyes, wishing more than anything to wake up in his own room.

Some time later, his eyes snapped open, and inwardly he bemoaned the sight of pine trees where he had hoped to see his dresser.

“I guess four days here is a little too long for this to be a dream,” he sighed, rolling over to try to get back to sleep. Had it been four days? It felt like he had been here for weeks already. When sleep didn’t come, he found himself simply staring at the moon overhead. It was the first time he had really looked at it, and strangely enough it was the same old moon he had always seen, craters and all. That meant he had to still be somewhere on Earth, right? How else would the Green have the same moon, or any moon at all for that matter? It was a logical argument that he wasn’t, in fact, on another world, just some place that was hidden somewhere, somehow, and Alex took momentary comfort in that logic. The illusion was shattered a moment later when another moon rose into view; or rather it was the same moon again, yet slightly farther away and moving a different direction. Alex moaned and rolled over, not even wanting to try to think how that was possible.

Why had he even woken up in the first place? His thoughts raced back to the night he had arrived in this place, to the monsters that had tried to kill him. Could they still be after him? Were they watching him even now? The feeling of dread that accompanied the snake-like creatures washed over him, though whether it was simply his own fears playing out in the dark night or if he really was being watched, he didn’t know. Somewhere in the distance, barely audible, there was music playing. He got no more sleep that night.

*

The morning light, even though it seemed to have taken forever, at the same time arrived much too quickly for Alex. He was stiff and sore from lying on the cold ground, his legs still protesting the walk from the day before. He had barely gotten anything resembling sleep, and there was still days more walking ahead of him.

“Good morning!” trumpeted Autumn at the very crack of dawn like a dainty rooster. She shook the morning dew from her wings and zipped down to where Alex lay. He covered his head with his undersized blankets (leaving his feet exposed) wanting nothing more than sleep now that the fear of the night had passed.

“Nothing like camping for some honest rest,” proclaimed Riley as he unzipped the front of his tent. “I’ve been in the city too long. Up and at ‘em, boy! They’ll be on our trail now that it’s light out, and you don’t want to be dragged back to Ghome in another cage.”

“Can I sleep in the cage?” he moaned, rolling away. Autumn snatched up the blanket, taking it into the air with her and leaving Alex shivering in the early dawn. “Fine, I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbled as he rose to dust the pine needles off.

Alex wearily trudged onward the whole of the day, powered only by an hour’s sleep and yet more bread and jerky. His backpack’s straps were digging into his shoulders, his feet were blistered, and worst of all, Autumn was singing again. So miserable was he that Alex never gave more than a passing glance at the forest around him. He missed the crumbling, ivy-draped columns of forgotten ruins, he passed shadowy paths that led deeper into the woods, he ignored the birds who sang not with chirps, but with words. All of it was of no concern to the child, who thought only of getting out of this place as soon as he could.

So engrossed he was in his own self-pity that he also missed the fact that the pile of leaves he was stepping on was, in fact, a very poorly concealed pit. He only had time to yelp as his feet slid in. He flailed out with an arm and managed to snag Riley by his backpack, which was to no avail; the small gnome couldn’t possibly stop his descent, and was dragged down into the pit behind. The trio landed in a heap at the bottom of the hole, groaning as they sorted themselves out.

“Autumn?” Alex looked quizzically at the sprite as she crawled out from under one of the bags. “How did you fall in?”

“Everyone else was doing it,” she shrugged, taking flight back out of the pit. “It was the first fun thing you two fuddy duddies did all day.”

“Well get us out of here,” grumbled Riley as he tossed the end of a rope up over the edge. “Tie that off to a tree or something so I…so we can climb out.”

“Fine,” huffed the sprite, flying out of sight over the edge of the pit. The rope began to move and soon there was a solid tug from the other end.

“I’ll go first,” said Riley, spitting in his hands before grasping the rope. “Then I’ll lower it back down so we can haul up the bags. You’ll come up last.” Alex nodded as the gnome began climbing. He didn’t go far however, as the rope came tumbling back down into the pit.

“That blasted sprite!” growled Riley as he lost his balance and fell over. “What’d she tie it…?” His question was cut short when Autumn again plummeted back down the hole. Alex caught her as she fell, and it was then that they saw what the rope was tied to: Autumn herself! The sprite had been bound head to toe, so that only her antennae and blonde curls showed out of the top.

“How she pulled that off, I’ll never know,” proclaimed Riley as he helped Alex untie her. The bundled squirmed and mumbled something.

“What’d you say?” asked Alex, pulling the rope away from her face.

“I said I didn’t do it!” she yelled, kicking and wiggling.

“Stop it,” scolded Riley as he tried to sort out the knot. “You’re making it worse!”

“If you didn’t tie yourself up…” Alex began. He looked up just in time for a dirt clod to hit him square in the face. Up above, sniveling laughter sounded.

“Goblins!” snarled Riley.

Yes, goblins. With the exception of the heroic Hoblin, goblins had always shown up in his grandpa’s stories as villains, or at least tricksters. To see them now, standing above with their pale green skin, floppy ears, and hooked noses didn’t bode well for any of them.

“We caughts ‘em,” cried one with glee, clapping its oversized hands. “Just likes we planned.”

“Now whats we do wit’ ‘em?”

“Let’s feed ‘em to the Dreaded Plog!”

“No, I’m not carrying ‘em that far!”

“Slug will carry ‘em, then.”

“Will not!”

“Fine, what else can we do?”

“Let’s play a game!”

“What game?”

They began arguing over a variety of horrible sounding games that didn’t really sound like games at all: “Throw the Mud,” “Hit with Sticks,” “Set on Fire,” and the worse sounding off all, “Throw a Beehive in the Hole.”

“I think I’m allergic to bees,” groaned Alex. “Riley, what’d we do?”

“The pit isn’t that deep,” said Riley, deep in thought. “If I could throw a grapple up and hook it on something, maybe we could climb out fast enough while they’re still arguing. Once we get up top they’ll scatter.”

Alex looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Goblins are cowards. When you’ve been out in the wild as long as I have, you have to know these things to survive. Just watch and learn, boy.”

Riley took up the rope that had been around Autumn and dug a metal hook out of his pack which he quickly tied to the rope. With a twirl of the rope Riley lobbed the hook over the edge, where it snagged something.

“Ha, first try!” Riley pulled the rope taught to test its hold, bringing one of the goblins screaming down into the hole with them. The hook had somehow attached to the thing’s grimy loincloth.

“Aaiieee!” it screamed, backing away from the trio.

“Theys got Grish!” came the cry from above.

“What’ll we do?”

“Throw mud at Grish, too!”

“Hahaha!”

A hail of dirt and mud came pouring down, most of it hitting the unfortunate Grish. Only Autumn managed to avoid all of it, deftly dodging through the air until the barrage subsided.

Grish was not amused by his comrades’ game. “Guys, quit it!”

“Why? What’s you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll tell Grimstank, I will! We’s pals!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh.”

“If’n he ever saw you he’d smush you flat.”

“Not if he smushes you first!”

Grimstank? Now there was a name Alex remembered. And if goblins really were as dumb and cowardly as he thought, then he just might have a plan.

“I know Grimstank!” Alex yelled loud enough for the goblins at the top of the pit to hear.

“Huh?” came the response from all around, Riley and Autumn, included.

“Grimstank is a fierce troll, as big as ten goblins, with a nose as long as your arm,” said Alex, mimicking his grandpa’s style of telling stories as best he could. “His skin is green and warty, and his eyes burn like fire. Of all trolls, he is the meanest, the biggest, and the hungriest. They even say that when the dread dragon Ssvalith enslaved the trolls with his dark magic, Grimstank thumbed his mighty nose at the monster and refused to serve him. You want to know why?” The goblins peering over the edge of the pit nodded eagerly. “It was because he thought that the dragon was too soft, and he’d never listen to someone who wasn’t as mean as he was. To this day he lives at the edge of the Spritewood in a hollow tree, where he squashes anyone who happens by. Not me, though. I got away.”

The goblins leaned in closer, by now thoroughly engrossed in the story.

“How’d ya do it?” Grish asked. “No one gets away from Grimstank.”

“I made a deal with him. I asked him, ‘What fun is squishing just me by myself? Wouldn’t you like to squish more?’” Alex almost winced at how lame he sounded, but the goblins seemed convinced. “Of course, he couldn’t resist the offer, so I promised him I’d go out and find a pack of goblins for him to squish if he let me go. It looks like I found plenty, at least for starters. All I have to do is blow the signal and he’ll come running.”

“He was lookings for us? I thoughts we was lookings for him.”

“It doesn’t matter who was lookings for who! He knows Grimstank,” yelled Grish. The goblins were visibly quaking in their shoes by this point, those few that had shoes, anyway.

“He’s bluffing!” accused one of the goblins.

“Want to find out?” Alex asked with a cruel grin. He brought out his flute and blew as hard as he could, bringing out a shrill note that sounded through the woods.

“The signal!”

“Runs! Grimstank is coming!”

“Flee!”

Grish cowered against the wall, terrified of the troll that would surely kill him once it arrived.

“Let’s go,” Alex said. Riley threw the hook up once more, this time snagging a limb rather than another goblin. Alex boosted up the gnome, who climbed over the top with the rope’s aid, then followed. Autumn simply flew out.

“Let’s get out of here,” Autumn said, nervously looking around. “Grimstank is coming.”

“No he’s not,” Alex said, brushing off as much of the dirt and mud as he could. The goblins, with the exception of Grish, who was digging himself deeper into the hole, had disappeared into the forest in all directions.

“Not a bad bluff, kid,” complimented Riley. “Needs work if you’re going to try it on anyone but a goblin (or a wood sprite, apparently), but not bad. How’d you know about the old troll, anyway?” he asked as he used the hook to fish out the last of the packs from the pit.

“Oh, just some story I heard when I was a kid,” Alex replied as if it wasn’t anything important. Inwardly, he was shocked that the old fairy tale actually meant something to these people. “Let’s get going.”

The gnome chuckled to himself as he watched Alex walk away. Maybe this trip would be more fun than he had thought.

*

“We’re being followed,” Riley said casually. It had been several peaceful days, sleepless nights, and many miles of walking since the goblin incident. Alex’s gnomish guide had led them down innumerable creek beds, game trails, and back roads, but overall they made steady progress in a southwesterly direction. Alex had seen nothing especially out of the ordinary (relatively speaking, this whole place was not ordinary) since the goblins had fled. Still, his guide seemed confident in his statement, causing Alex to look around.

“Don’t look,” Riley scolded quietly. “Just keep walking. They’ll be upon us in no time, so be ready.”

Alex had no idea how he was to ready himself, having no weapons and no idea what was after them. Minutes passed in silence, with nothing except the gentle creaking of branches swaying in the breeze and Autumn’s incessant singing to herself to disturb the peace. After a few moments, though, Alex could hear the crack of twigs and rustle of leaves as someone or something moved parallel to their path. If they were trying to be stealthy, they had failed miserably. The attack came suddenly, if not unexpected, as a stumpy figure burst from the thick undergrowth.

“Got you!” the attacker yelled. Alex found himself staring dumbfounded at a gnome as he threw a small weighted net over his head. His suit was heavily rumpled and stained, not to mention torn in several places. Between that, the sticks in his hair, and the desperate light in his eyes, their pursuer had definitely seen better days. The boy, easily over a foot taller than the gnome and much stronger, simply ignored the too-small net as he walked over to his attacker and hefted him up by his suit jacket.

“Got you,” Alex mocked.

Riley scrutinized the other gnome with his good eye (it was the right one today), nodding as he recognized him for what he was. “I told you they’d be after you. That’s a Department of Human Affairs badge he’s wearing,” said Riley pointing to a curious symbol on the terrified gnome’s lapel: a silhouette of a human head flanked by question marks.

“Yeah, I know. I recognize this one,” Alex said casually, dropping his would-be captor to the ground. He easily pulled the net off his head and tossed it over the attacker. In a matter of seconds his struggles served to tangle him hopelessly. “He’s the one who got me away from the president back in Ghome. I suppose I should thank him.”

“I suppose we should string him up and leave him for the goblins,” Riley replied, drawing his rope out of his backpack. “We can’t have him following us or running back to his superiors.”

“Stop!” The gnome, despite being in a netted heap on the ground, did his best to sound forceful. “By…by the authority of the Department of Human Affairs and in conjunction with the Department of Gnome-land Defense, I demand surrender of the subject to the proper authorities immediately.”

“He does know that he’s in a net, right?” asked Autumn, settling on Alex’s shoulder.

“You’re name is VonHalderson, right?” Alex asked.

“My name is Edmund VonHalderson, and I am an agent of…”

“We know,” Alex interrupted. “Listen, Ed…”

“Edmund.”

“Edmund,” Alex corrected. “I know it’s your job, but I’m not going back to Ghome, and unless you brought help, I don’t think you can stop me.”

“But regulations state…” started the gnome before Alex interrupted him again.

“I’m going home to my own world, and I want to do that as soon as possible,” Alex continued, explaining as if to a particularly dense child. “I don’t have time to go back with you. You understand, right? Right.”

“I don’t believe you,” Edmund said as defiantly as he could in his current predicament.

Alex sighed. “I suppose I should ask why.”

“It is well documented that the presence of humankind in the Green has led to untold mayhem in the past for all involved parties, and as such under Article 37.B of the Department of Human Affairs Manifest, also known as Reginald’s Law, no human is allowed in the Green without a gnome escort. It is for your own protection as well as ours, I assure you.”

“Oh, in that case I’m covered, right Riley?” Alex asked, looking over his shoulder. Riley shrugged and then nodded his agreement.

Edmund looked as if he was about to choke. “What? Him? No, no, no, that is definitely not permitted! He’s a criminal!”

Alex looked back at Riley, who was back to pulling the rope out of his bag with murderous intent.

“Riley ‘Fleetfeet’ Haussenfeld,” Edmund continued while trying to avoid eye contact with the accused, “is a known thief, scoundrel, and scalawag who has been declared an enemy to the city of Ghome and all decent law-abiding citizenry. The fact that he broke you out of a secure transport and snuck you out of the city just shows he’s up to another scheme.”

Alex looked over at his travel guide. He wasn’t really surprised at the revelation, but it was a little shocking to hear it out loud. “You’re a thief? What’d you steal?”

“Nothing that wasn’t mine to begin with, and none of your business, anyway,” Riley snapped. He immediately calmed. “I’m sorry, boy, but it’s a sore subject and one I’d rather not talk about. All that matters is that I promised to take you to the elves, and I’m doing it, aren’t I? Have I been anything if not trustworthy?”

“I guess you’re right,” Alex replied, a little shaken by the outburst.

“Trustworthy? Ha!” Edmund scoffed. “He’s no fit company for any decent gnome.”

“In case you didn’t notice,” said Riley, smirking at the captive, “the boy here is no gnome.”

“Which is exactly why I can’t just leave him to run willy-nilly all through the Green unsupervised,” countered Edmund. “You know what kind of shenanigans and misfortunes his kind brings.”

“Willy-nilly,” Autumn giggled from Alex’s shoulder.

“Not now, Autumn,” Alex said, shaking the sprite off. She began a sort of flying dance around the netted gnome, singing the words “Willy-nilly” over and over again.

“Let’s get on our way, boy,” Riley said, pulling Alex down the trail. “That net ought to hold him long enough even if you won’t let me do the job right. If we’re lucky the goblins will find him and…hey, what’re you doing?”

Alex untangled Edmund from his own net and helped him to his feet.

“He’s coming with us,” Alex said. “I’m definitely not leaving him to the goblins and who-knows-what-else lives out here, and I’m not letting him go back to get more help to bring me in. No one else knows where I am, right?” he asked the disheveled gnome.

“Except for the guards that were transporting you, no one else knows that you’re gone,” Edmund admitted. “I never would’ve been able to find you if I had to stay behind and file all the paperwork that would result from you escaping.”

Alex folded up the net and shoved it into his bag. “Then it’s settled. We’ll take turns watching him to make sure he’s not up to anything, and we’ll let him go when Eyell sends me home. Now go get whatever stuff you brought with you and let’s go.”

“Stuff?” Edmund asked, looking confused.

“You know, food, clothes, more…nets…” Alex stopped at the gnome’s blank stare. “You didn’t bring any supplies, did you?”

“Ha, the little bureaucrat is lucky we caught him,” laughed Riley, “or else he’d get lost out here and starve. He can carry one of my bags.”

After loading up Edmund with the heaviest of the camping gear, mainly Riley’s prized set of cast iron cookware, his tent, and some rocks he added, insisting that they were to go around the fire pit at night, they continued down the trail. Night approached fast, and since there were no signs of other pursuit from Ghome, the camp was accompanied by a cheery fire, forcing Alex to admit that the rocks in Edmund’s bag had been a good idea after all. Riley wanted to tie Edmund to a tree for the night but after Alex’s refusal to help settled on hammering an extra tent stake into the ground and tying the other gnome to it by his ankle.

“What’re you looking at?” Alex asked after about an hour of Edmund staring at him. The gnome had barely eaten the rations Riley had grudgingly given him, having spent every moment since they had stopped walking to scribble notes on a small paper pad he kept in his pocket.

The gnome blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never really seen a human before.”

“I have!” trumpeted Autumn. She fluttered down onto Alex’s head. “This one!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Edmund mumbled.

“How can someone whose job is based around humans never have seen one?” Alex asked.

“Well, your kind doesn’t come through the Green much anymore.”

“And yet they have a whole government agency to deal with them,” Riley pointed out with obvious disdain.

“It wasn’t always like this. In the old days, back when my great-great-grandfather founded the DHA, humans were much more common in the Green. Oh, there were never that many, all said, but still, they managed to cause quite a stir when they showed up. Most wandered in lost and wandered right back out again without even realizing what had happened, but some stayed, and those warranted monitoring. They were adventuring types, mostly, come to slay monsters and find treasure and such. Why, there was even said to be a human city at one time, but it…well…”

“What happened?”

“The dragon happened,” Riley answered.

“Correct,” replied Edmund. “When the dread dragon Ssvalith appeared in the Green, he was particularly harsh to any humans he found. Some say there was a prophecy that it would be a human who would slay him, and so after…dealing with most of the humans in the Green, he destroyed many of the Mistgates that led to your world to keep more from coming through. It was quite awhile before any more of your people managed to find your way here.”

“A prophecy?” Alex asked.

“You haven’t heard of the prophecy?” Edmund asked in wonder. “Oh, well, I guess if you’re new here you might have not. It was the human wizard Kezerik, some nine hundred or so years ago, who foretold that a great evil would one day come to the Green, and it would be a human hero by the name of Alexander who would...hey, isn’t your name Alex? I don’t suppose that’s short for Alexander? I wonder if there is a connection…” The gnome trailed off and began writing more notes.

Alex thought to mention his grandpa, but Riley interrupted.

“Of course there isn’t any connection. The time of that so-called ‘prophecy’ came and went long ago. Ssvalith is gone, sure, but the War kept going for decades without him, so what good did it do if it was true?”

Something about the way Riley said that statement caught Alex’s attention. “Long ago?” he asked warily. “How long ago?”

“Though when the War truly ended is subject to debate, the dragon Ssvalith disappeared from the field of battle approximately two hundred years by the Gnomish Standard Calendar,” Edmund answered. “Give or take a few.”

Impossible. Alex’s grandpa certainly wasn’t over two hundred years old, which he’d certainly have to be if he had been the hero who killed Ssvalith. He had always said he was in the Green for maybe a year, or at least that’s how long he had been missing from Earth, and that was only fifty or so years ago. Maybe the stories had really been about a different Alexander. No, because in that case then how would his grandpa know so much about what to these people was ancient history? It was possible that his grandpa had gotten the time wrong, somehow, but still, the gap was just too wide. Now that he really thought about it, it was getting harder and harder to remember exactly how long he had been in the forest. The days were blending together, some seeming much longer than others while others were too short. It had to be something else about this place…

“So,” said Edmund, judging from Alex’s expression that a change of subject was in order, “now that we’ve all had a good story and have gotten to know one another, how about loosening the rope a bit?”

“Not a chance,” said Riley. “We’re still too close to Ghome to have you running loose.”

“I won’t run!” replied Edmund, apparently offended by the insinuation. “I have a perfect chance to study a human up close, and whether out here in the wilds or safety of the city makes no difference to me at this point.”

“That or you’re lost and wouldn’t be able to find your way back even if you did catch the boy,” Riley replied as he crawled into his tent, and the red in Edmund’s cheeks was all the proof anyone needed to show that he was right. “We’ll give you your net back if you want to cuddle up in it, but it won’t make for much of a blanket. Keep an eye on him, boy, and wake me up when it’s my turn to watch.” With that, Riley zipped up his tent and spoke no more for the night.

“So, Alex, I do have more questions if you don’t mind…” Edmund began, but Alex rose and walked away from the fire.

“Maybe later,” he said absently, still lost in thought. He sat on the edge of the circle of firelight and stared out into the dark woods surrounding the camp.

“I’ll answer your questions!” Autumn said, making herself comfortable on the ground in front of the gnome. “I know all about Alex. We’ve been friends for days and days already. You could say I’m an expert, though I am an expert in so many things that it kind of goes without saying.”

“Well…uh…I guess I could ask you a few questions…” Edmund said, feeling at the knot at his ankle that literally made him the sprite’s captive audience. It was very well tied.

“Great! Let’s see…Alex is grumpy most of the time, especially in the mornings. Grumpiness is a definite human trait, of course, not sprite-like at all. I think it comes from being so tall. He must hit his head on branches a lot. He’s hit his head several times already, but human skulls must be awfully thick, ooh, you should write that down…”

Edmund groaned and tugged at the rope again, but it held fast. Alex almost pitied him, but for once he was glad to have Autumn’s attention focused elsewhere so he could have some peace and quiet. Even so, as he stared out into the shadows beneath the trees, he knew he was in for another long sleepless night.

*

The next few days passed without further incident. Once Riley had to lead them off the rode to hide in the bushes as something large and furry ambled by in the distance. He explained offhand about how irritable forest yetis could be during the daytime, but other than that one brief detour nothing else delayed the trek. Edmund continued to pester Alex, and Autumn continued to pester Edmund. Riley had become more withdrawn with the addition of the other gnome to the party, especially when Edmund made any reference to his past. Alex actually preferred the lack of real conversation. He actually liked the gnomes, both of them, but it was best not to get attached. It’d make leaving all the easier when the time came.

On the fourth day they came to what Riley had called the Ogre Highway. It was a massive swath through the forest devoid of any trees or other growth, as if something massive had trampled through along its path, maybe even more than once. The various people of the Green had put it to good use, with frequent travelers further packing it down into a relatively smooth road that was now the busiest thoroughfare in the entire region.

“Put this on,” Riley said to Alex as they approached the road. It was a cloak with a deep hood. “Remember, humans aren’t really as popular or as common here as they used to be. If you’re disguised maybe you won’t attract any attention that’ll slow us down.”

“Disguise?” Alex rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to be disguised as, a gnome?” Autumn giggled at the idea.

“I don’t know, act…elfy,” he suggested, shoving the cloak into the boy’s hands. Alex had no idea what that meant, but still put it on and pulled the hood low over his face.

He peered out as best as he could while he walked, taking in the interesting sights the road provided. Until now, with the exception of Ghome the Green had proven to be relatively uninhabited, but the Highway certainly showed that to be untrue. Dwarves, whom Alex first mistook for hairier, fatter gnomes much to the consternation of both Edmund and Riley, rumbled down the trail in heavy wagons drawn by massive goats. Apparently they were merchants taking their goods to various markets or carting raw materials back to their mountain, which lay hundreds of miles away. Walking trees with wooden faces seemingly carved into their trunks dragged themselves along by their roots, conversing with clouds of sprites who buzzed around them as they went. According to Autumn, they were aptly named treefolk, a name Alex vaguely recognized. Up ahead, what could only be described as a giant frog wearing a turban argued with a trio of goblins. They were demanding a ride on its flying carpet, of all things. Apparently even his grandpa’s many stories failed to mention every type of creature in the Green, for Alex had no idea what the frog-man was called.

The group wisely avoided any gnomes along the trail, both for Alex’s and Riley’s sake as both were wanted fugitives. Several times they spotted groups of Ghome soldiers questioning passerby, but they managed to evade them by mingling with the other traffic. Even without the soldiers, avoiding gnomes on the Ogre Highway was extremely difficult, for even outside of Ghome the gnomes found opportunities for bustling commerce and profit. The Ogre Highway was dotted in many places with tents and even the occasional permanent structure from which gnomes hawked their wares: everything from traveling supplies to roadside cafes and souvenir shops. There was even a taxi service where one could rent a rickshaw pulled by a team of tame goblins. Alex, his feet already sore and blistered from days of walking, thought about suggesting they take a chance and rent one to speed up the trip, but he knew Riley would never go for it, especially since he was the only one who seemed to have any money.

“So, why is this called the Ogre Highway?” Alex asked after a while to break the silence.

“Well, for one it’s a highway,” Riley quipped.

“I can see that.”

Edmund furrowed his brows at Riley and gave a more detailed answer.

“There are paths like this throughout the Green that are used by ogres from time to time. The behemoths can’t help but trample whatever is in their way, so they try to stick to trails that they’ve been down before so as to not damage too much of the forest in their passing. They really are considerate for unstoppable agents of destruction. This particular path stretches all the way from Dwarfholme to the edge of the Sea of Sparkling Waters, hundreds of miles from here.”

Despite himself, Alex was actually impressed. “Wow, how many ogres did it take to make such a wide road through all this forest?”

“One,” Autumn said casually.

Alex felt his eyes bug out a little bit as he considered the size of such a monster. He had always thought his grandpa had exaggerated their size because it made a better story, but apparently this was just one more example of just how accurate and truthful he had been. Silently he decided that he would endeavor to avoid any ogres in the future.

All worries that an ogre might come strolling along this path and flatten them aside, the trek down the Ogre Highway was much easier than walking through the woods had been. It was a fairly straight line through the wilderness, with none of the curves and backtracking that the forest trails Riley had taken them on thus far. They were making such good time that Alex felt certain that his journey would be at its end in only a matter of days, now. When it came time to stop along the roadside to set up camp he even suggested they continue on into the night. The moonlight was bright enough to easily see, and thoughts of being close to his goal gave him more energy than he had felt in days. Nevertheless, Riley insisted they stop and rest, with promises of an early start in the morning.

The Ogre Highway was considered one of the safer parts of this area of the Green, but still Riley led them away from the edge of the road into the forest to keep some distance between the other traveler’s camped along the path. Alex did finally manage to convince Riley that there was no longer any need to make someone stay up all night to watch Edmund, who, of course, was overjoyed about the amount of trust that showed in him. That joy only lasted until Riley tied a rope to both his ankles this time instead of just one.

The night was uneventful. A sparse meal was shared and conversation was fairly minimal, except for Edmund plaguing Alex with more questions about humans. Alex had decided to make a game of it, and almost had the gnome believing humans really could breathe fire when the stillness was broken by a hearty cry in the dark. “Ho there, travelers!”

Riley and Alex jumped up at the voice that came from just outside the firelight. Edmund tried to stand as well but with both his feet tied he only managed to flop over to the ground instead.

“Who goes there?” Riley called into the darkness. A large shaggy figure approached the circle of firelight, a massive goat that stood taller than Alex at the shoulder. Its head was bowed low by great curling horns, and its back was laden with piles of small crates, barrels, and bags.

“It’s a talking goat,” Alex explained, proud of himself for reacting calmly to such a strange sight for a change. Maybe he was getting the hang of life in the Green. The others didn’t look quite as convinced.

“I’m fairly sure that goats can’t talk,” Edmund said.

A squat little man moved out from behind the goat’s shadow. “Well of course goats don’t talk, and a good thing too, or else they’d be talking back all the time.” The newcomer burst out laughing at his own joke as he moved fully into the light.

He was a curious sight: taller than the gnomes and twice as wide with grayish skin, he reminded Alex of nothing less than a hairy block of granite. His eyebrows were impossibly bushy, almost obscuring his eyes altogether, and when combined with a thick mustache and a wild black beard that went down to his knees his face could hardly be seen at all.

“Ugh, it’s a dwarf,” Autumn said, flying up to a branch overhead.

“What’s wrong with dwarves?” Alex asked, apparently loud enough for the visitor to hear.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with dwarves!” The stumpy creature laughed loudly, holding his meaty hands wide to show he was unarmed. “My name is Balmaevin Stonechewer, of the famed Stonechewer Clan. I trust our reputation precedes me.” The dwarf seemed oblivious to the blank stares he received and continued unabated. “I am but a humble merchant of the Mountain. I was planning on making my way through the southern woods to markets beyond, a long and lonely trek with nary a soul for days unless you’re counting the occasional yeti. As fortune would have it, though, as I prepared to leave the Highway I saw your fire and decided to see if I could have a final night of company before I leave civilization altogether. Guado here is a loyal friend, but as your little gnomish friend pointed out, he doesn’t provide much in the way of conversation, if you know what I mean.” The goat bleated as if to prove its owner’s point.

“Keep your hood down and stay back,” Riley whispered to Alex. “It’s best that none know who or what you are, so I’ll keep him distracted. Remember: you’re an elf.” He strode forward, seeming to take measure of the newcomer before gesturing for him to take a seat.

“I suppose there’s no harm in some company for the evening,” the gnome relented loudly so the newcomer would hear. “However, I don’t suppose you have anything packed on that goat of yours to give in exchange for our warm fire and pleasant company.”

Balmaevin wagged a chubby finger. “I should have expected a gnome would be wanting to bargain. Most of my goods are bound for the satyr villages of the Twisting Ways, but I think I can spare a little something to take the chill out of the night air.”

The dwarf stomped over to Guado and undid the straps binding a small barrel.

“Ruhn’s Golden Ale, the finest brew of Dwarfholme,” he explained as he poured several mugs full. Riley eagerly took one, and set another in front Edmund, just out of the reach of his rope. Alex, taking care to stay back in the shadows, shook his head when the dwarf came round.

“Ah, I figured an elf wouldn’t know good drink when he saw it. More for us then, right?” The merchant downed the mug meant for Alex, and then poured himself another.

“Yeah!” agreed Autumn wholeheartedly.

“I don’t think so,” Riley said, taking away the mug the sprite had somehow procured. “The last thing we need is a drunken sprite on our hands. Besides, you’re too young.”

“…older’n all of you gnomes, anyway…” Autumn grumbled, flying back up into the tree branches to sulk.

“So, where’re you headed?” the dwarf asked after everyone had settled.

Edmund answered before anyone else could speak up. “The Mists, to help send Ale…” Riley cleared his throat loudly, cutting Edmund off before he could reveal more. “To see…the…mist, I guess,” Edmund finished unconvincingly.

“The Mists?” The dwarf snorted disdainfully. “Why would you want to go there? Nothing but elves and fog. It’s a good thing you got elfy there to guide you, too, or you’d never get through that mess. Mmm, looks a little puny to be a guide, though…”

“Oh, he’s young, but Alex is a magnificent guide,” Riley said loudly to draw the dwarf’s attention from the boy. “I don’t think we’d be able to find our way without him.”

“Alex?” the dwarf asked, his already low hanging eyebrows moving lower as he scrutinized the human. It was a wonder if he could see at all. “Funny name for an elf. They usually have flowery, fluffy names with too many vowels…”

“It’s short for Alex’andier,” Alex said, putting what he hoped was an elven twist to his name. The dwarf looked convinced enough, but continued his muttering.

“So, have you ever been to the Mists, Mr. Stonechewer?” Edmund asked a little too eagerly, finally catching on that they were trying to keep Balmaevin occupied and away from Alex. “Tell us what it’s like.”

“Nah, I ain’t never been. Elves are never much for buying foodstuffs and drink, which is largely what I be selling. They have that whole ‘living off the bounty of the Green’ thing going, lucky them. Makes it hard for an honest dwarf to make a profit…and even harder for a dishonest dwarf!” Once again he gave a great guffaw at his own joke, seeming not to notice or care that no one joined him.

“Besides,” he continued, lowering his voice to a dire whisper, “lately I hear there’s something dangerous in those woods that’s got the rangers all nervous. Some manner of beast or devil that’d tear you limb from limb as soon as look at you. I’d steer clear if’n I were you.”

“Thanks for the concern, but we have personal matters to attend to with the chancellor that simply can’t wait,” Riley explained vaguely.

“Oh, you mean Chancellor Ishari. Now there’s an elf you can do business with. He bought a whole mess of cut stone from my cousin Jergen a few months back. He said he was renovating that old castle they got there. Jergen and his lot are stonecutters, you see, and he’s been trying to get King Eyell to buy from him for years to fix up those old ruins of his. Elves used to be our best customers back before the war, but once them snakey folk tore down their cities they decided to just live out in the trees like wild animals, the whole lot of ‘em! Almost put the entire Dwarfholme stone industry under! My cousin was so happy he finally made a sale that offered up some good masons to help out with the work free of charge, but I guess the chancellor thought elves could do a better job.” Another snort told anyone listening what he thought of that.

The dwarf rambled on in similar manner for hours, with him and Riley emptying the keg between them. Riley did his best to hold the dwarf’s attention, but apparently he didn’t take his own distraction so well. He was passed out on the ground by the time the moon set, and still Balmaevin kept talking and telling bad jokes to whoever and whatever would listen. Alex quickly came to understand Autumn’s initial reaction: the hairy man talked more than she did, and louder at that. Alex did his best to not catch the dwarf’s eye, and finally managed to drift off to sleep as the dwarf began arguing with Edmund over the intricacies of gnomish trade regulations. He had been lucky enough to stay out of that conversation entirely.

Come morning, Alex wished he hadn’t agreed to that early start. Balmaevin had kept them up most of the night, and even after falling asleep the occasional rowdy bursts of laughter from their guest made sleeping difficult at best. Fortunately Riley seemed much worse off as he awoke, a sure after effect of too much dwarven ale, and for a change he didn’t hassle any of the rest to get ready faster. Autumn seemed to take note of his condition and made a point to sing extra loud this morning, much to the gnome’s dismay. Of Balmaevin or Guado there was no sign, though giant hoof prints led off to the south.

“All things in moderation,” Edmund said smugly as he passed by the groaning Riley. He took a clumsy swing at Edmund, who didn’t even need to dodge for it to miss.

“I’ll moderate you,” he grumbled, shaking his fist. “Let’s get moving, we’re wasting daylight.”

They trudged on down the road, which was already filled with traffic even with the sun barely a bright spot on the horizon. After such little sleep and with another hard day’s walking ahead, Alex felt even more miserable than usual. What was worse is the memory of what the obnoxious dwarf had said about there being some horrible monster prowling the part of the forest where they were headed. It’d be just his luck to finally make it to the elves only to be eaten by some wild beast. Not for the first time he wished there was a way to get home that didn’t involve dangerous hikes through woods fraught with peril. There had to be some other way, he knew. That’s when he saw his answer.

It was people! Not just any people, either, but humans. Up ahead a group of about a dozen or so walked alongside an ornate coach as it slowly rolled down the road. Of course, they were dressed like they had just gone to a renaissance festival, but for Alex it was better than nothing. If there were other humans in the Green, maybe they’d know of an easier way out, and at the very least they’d understand his plight. They could help him. They could protect him from marauding monsters and crazy gnomes and goblins and such. He didn’t know anything about them, but at that moment he was absolutely sure that they could get him home. Without warning he started running towards them, leaving his short-legged companions in the dust.

“Alex, wait!” Riley warned, but it was too late. The guards surrounding the coach had already spotted the cloaked figure running straight at them and they reacted quickly. As one they whirled on the apparent threat, shouting warnings to halt while drawing forth slender swords and putting arrows to bows. Alex stopped in his tracks, noticing too late that there was something off about these ‘humans.’ They had pointed ears which swept back alongside their heads, and their eyes, varying in color from vibrant green to purple and even red, seemed to blaze with their own inner light as they bore down on the boy. He stumbled and fell backwards with a frightened yell as they closed in, causing his hood to fall back from his face. It was then the guards’ turn to stop in surprise.

“A human!” one gasped.

“Take him!”

Alex was roughly pulled to his feet, too stunned to even think about escaping. The guards quickly searched him, relieving him of his backpack. Of particular interest was the wooden flute, which one of the guards slipped into his belt for safekeeping. In a matter of moments the boy’s hands were bound behind his back. His hood was pulled down low over his head, not only obscuring his vision but to hide his nature from gathering onlookers.

“This isn’t good,” Riley said. Autumn tried to fly to Alex’s aid, but Riley held her back.

“Lemme go! That’s a royal coach! These elves probably know me! I have to tell them he’s a friend!” Autumn cried, struggling to get away from the gnome.

“No, we can’t let the elves see us,” Riley growled, his heels leaving furrows in the dirt as the tiny sprite dragged him along.

“I thought your job was to bring Alex to the elves,” Edmund pointed out, suspicion clear in his voice.

“Like this?” he asked as Alex was led away behind the coach. “If we go up there they’ll likely tie us up, too, for questioning, and that’s if they don’t just shoot us and forget the questions altogether. You know how militant elves are these days.”

Reluctantly, Edmund nodded his agreement, and Autumn ceased her struggling, though she continued to stare forlornly at the receding coach.

“Don’t worry,” Riley said. “We’ll get him back. We’ll wait until nightfall…”

*

Chapter 5: Captured…Again

“The Green is truly an untamed world. Where here man has dominated all corners of the Earth, there the forest itself reigns supreme. Even cities like Ghome or Dwarfholme are nothing more than small pockets of civilization in the vast sea of trees. However, there are those who embrace that wildness, who seek not to tame the Green but to experience all that it has to offer, and they are none other than…”

“The elves!” finished the child with a shout.

“Yes, the elves. If any race can be rightly called the rulers of the Green, it is the elves, but it is not their nature to rule. Rather, as the mightiest of the goodly folk, they travel the forest paths endlessly, acting as protectors to those weaker than they.”

“What do they look like?” the little boy whispered.

“Well, they are taller than most other folk of the Green, though usually not taller than a man. They are lithe and graceful, yet strong, for theirs is the strength of the forest itself. Their faces are ageless and without blemish, but most striking of all are their eyes. The eyes of an elf have a light and a life all their own. Be careful, Alex, that you don’t ever look too long into the eyes of an elf maiden, or you may find yourself caught by them.”

The boy looked confused for a second, and then scrunched up his face in exaggerated disgust.

“Ewww!”

The boy’s grandpa laughed.

“Oh, you say that now, but I bet you’ll change your tune when you’re a bit older. Now, did I ever tell you about the time the elf king and I traveled to the Fountains of Korash? Hoblin had gone missing again…”

*

Captured. Again. Maybe before he went home he should take a tour of the Green and get captured by every race in the whole lousy forest. Balmaevin mentioned satyrs, and there were always those frog men. Why not see what their prisons were like, too? Alex trudged behind the coach, thoroughly defeated with no thoughts of escape. That didn’t mean his guards went easy on him: the ones to either side still had their swords drawn, prepared to cut him down if he made a wrong move. At this point, Alex didn’t even feel like trying to explain himself. Nothing here made sense, and no one seemed to care that he just wanted to leave.

His latest captors weren’t a talkative bunch. They were elves; that he was able to figure out quickly enough. That he had mistaken them for human at all was just a sign of how desperate he was to get away from all this. Even without the obvious differences of the eyes and ears, even a glance should have told him all he needed to know. His grandpa had always mentioned how elves move whenever he talked about them, and Alex could see it even in the simple act of walking down the road. Every step was perfectly placed, every movement had purpose. They moved as if they owned the forest and everyone else was just visiting. It seemed a well justified belief, at least in Alex’s case.

The coach in front of him caught his gaze for a while, and with lack of anything better to do he studied it. It was obviously exquisite, even to someone who rarely, if ever, thought of coaches in his day to day life. Every inch of it was carved and decorated with images of leaves or trees or dancing elves, and gold trimmed the doors and windows. Alex never did quite get a good look at whatever was in front pulling it, but he did occasionally hear a strange squawking sound, and the ground behind the coach showed the occasional three-toed footprint. It added up to one enormous bird, a thought that didn’t seem as absurd as it should have been.

Every now and then, Alex noticed a face peering at him from the back window, a young girl, likely around his age or perhaps a bit older. Alex assumed she must be someone special if she got to ride around in such a conveyance while everyone else walked. Whoever she was, she always ducked down whenever he noticed her staring, so the only details he really saw were a pair of vivid green eyes and dark brown hair. From the growls of the guards next to him, he soon thought better of looking anywhere besides the dirt in from of his feet. Whoever they were protecting must be someone important, which meant they continued to see Alex as a threat even if he was horribly outnumbered with his hands tied.

After a time they left the Ogre Highway, turning down a much smaller winding trail shadowed by overarching branches. Their pace was relentless, but they did occasionally stop to let Alex rest and even gave him water at one point. If not for their weapons and refusal to talk to him, the elves almost seemed friendly. As evening came to pass, the company arrived at a small stone building that sat in a clearing alongside the trail. It resembled some of the other ruins Alex had seen scattered throughout the forest, but this one seemed to be in better shape. The elves seemed to use it as a way station of sorts.

The coach was parked and Alex’s suspicions about the creature drawing it were confirmed. Standing as tall as a horse and almost as solidly built was an ostrich-like bird covered in dark gray and blue feathers. Alex heard one of the elves call it a rhea, though again Alex couldn’t remember anything about them from any stories. The beast was unhitched and allowed to peck at the ground while the guards went about setting up a camp, and Alex did his best to keep his distance without looking like he was trying to go anywhere. Several of the elves took the time to make sure Alex’s view was blocked while their passenger was ushered inside.

One of the elves approached Alex, a stern faced, red-eyed elf that Alex figured to be the leader, both from the aura of command he exuded and the fact that he partook in no physical labor in setting up the camp. He quickly drew out a knife, and in a motion so fast that Alex didn’t even have time to flinch, cut the ropes binding his hands.

“You’re letting me go?” Alex asked, rubbing some circulation back into his wrists.

“I’m simply untying you because you are no threat at the moment. Try to leave and my men have been ordered to shoot you. They don’t miss.” With that he turned on his heel and walked away.

Alex laughed nervously, but then stopped when he noticed that several of the guards stood at points around the area with bows. From the way they all kept glancing his way, he knew the elf commander hadn’t been joking.

For the next few hours Alex was able to freely walk around the exterior of the way station, mindful that any attempt to make a run for it wouldn’t end well. He considered it briefly, deciding it was best not to be the first suburban kid in history to be shot down by arrows. For lack of anything better to do, he contented himself to sit down on one of the stone benches outside the small building. Despite the mysterious allure of the ancient structure Alex couldn’t help thinking that the place was one filthy restroom away from being a highway truck stop. It was certainly as exciting as one. Alex found that it was indeed possible to be bored even while under threat of perforation by fantasy creatures, especially if none of them would talk to you. He found himself missing the gnomes, and after a few hours even started wishing Autumn would show up just so he’d have someone to talk to.

Darkness fell and he did his best to try and get some sleep. The elves had provided actual blankets and a small pillow, which were worlds better than the tiny gnome blankets he had been using. The night air was cool with only the rustling leaves breaking the silence. All things considered, Alex actually began to feel safe here as a prisoner, and this time there were no gnomes making wild accusations at him. Not even those snakemen would dare attack such him under the protection of so many guards. As he drifted off to some much needed sleep, he once again heard the far off music playing on the gentle breeze.

“Alex,” someone whispered, startling him awake after a few precious seconds of rest. It was Edmund, standing in the shadows away from the camp. “We’re here to rescue you.”

Alex sighed. Of course his rescue would have to arrive just as he finally fell asleep. Alex didn’t move, except to put a finger to his lips and to give a nod at one of the archers patrolling this side of the camp. The elf’s eyes glowed softly in the dark, and Alex somehow knew he would have no issue seeing in the dim moonlight.

“Riley and Autumn are going to make a diversion when I give the signal,” Edmund continued, apparently oblivious to the guards even with Alex’s warning.

“They’ll hear you,” Alex whispered back, trying not to make any movements that would alert the guards.

“No they won’t,” said a voice from behind. Both Alex and Edmund jumped at the sudden appearance of another, a slight figure whose face was concealed by a hood not unlike the one Alex had worn, if of finer material. “I’d never be able to sneak out if I hadn’t already learned a spell to stop that.”

The figure lowered her hood, for indeed it was a girl, an elf girl to be precise. In the darkness all Alex could really make out was a pair of green eyes, glowing softly in the night.

“Excuse me, miss,” Edmund said politely. “We were just leaving, so if you’d be so kind as to step aside…”

“Sorry to interrupt your no-doubt brilliant escape plan, but before you go I wanted to talk to him first.”

“But…” Edmund tried to say, but the girl ignored him.

“I have so many questions. You’re human, right?”

“Yeah. You’re the girl in the wagon.” Alex guessed.

“It’s a coach,” she corrected, “and yes. My name is Kira. Sorry about the soldiers. They can be…overprotective of me at times.”

Kira? Why did that name sound familiar. Hadn’t Autumn mentioned a friend by that name, a friend who was the daughter of…?

“You’re Eyell’s daughter!” Alex exclaimed. He clapped a hand to his mouth and looked around, but whatever ‘spell’ Kira had mentioned apparently kept his voice from carrying to the nearby guards.

“The princess!” Edmund gasped, fumbling to bow while simultaneously smoothing his disheveled appearance.

“I knew it! You do know my father!” she exclaimed, suddenly excited. “Why else would you be here? Have you seen him?”

“No,” Alex answered, a little confused by the response. “I never met the guy. I’m trying to get back home to my world, and I’ve been told that the elf king might be able to help me. I’ve been trying to find him for like a week now.”

“Oh, I must have been mistaken.” Kira seemed to slump over a bit. “Anyway,” she continued, regaining some of her perkiness, “I still have other questions. I’ve heard so much about your kind, but I have never met one of you. What’s your world like? How did you come to the Green?”

“Yes, tell us,” pressed Edmund, taking a seat next to the girl. “What?” he asked as both turned to look at him. “It’s my job.”

“I don’t think now is the best time for…” Alex stopped. Something was wrong. He hadn’t seen any sign of the archer who had been patrolling this side of the camp for some time. Even with whatever magic Kira had used to sneak away Alex assumed that having her and Edmund sitting in plain sight should have attracted attention by now.

“What is it?” Kira asked.

Alex felt more than saw the approaching attack, though later he’d wonder how. He dove from his makeshift bed, knocking both Kira and Edmund back as something sliced into his blankets. Something stood over the three as they untangled themselves and quickly crawled away, something Alex knew too well. Even in the dark Alex could see the faint moonlight glinting off its scales and off its dagger.

“A wyrm!” Edmund cried, backing away.

The snake-like creature hissed as it closed in on Alex, blade held high. Kira quickly sang something in a language that Alex didn’t understand, and suddenly a flash of light exploded in front of the attacker’s face, staggering it. Alex too fell back rubbing his eyes, able to see only dancing spots.

“Come on!” Kira yelled, helping him to his feet. He opened his eyes again and found that he could see a little better, and he was quick to put some distance between himself and his would-be assassin. Edmund ran alongside them, hooting like an owl.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked as he ran.

“It’s the signal!” he gasped. “It’s a key element of the rescue plan!”

“I don’t think your plan really matters anymore!”

Around the camp, the still night exploded into motion. More snakemen, ‘wyrms’ Edmund had called them, slipped in from the surrounding forest from all directions. The elves, roused by the commotion, took up sword and bow and met them as they approached.

“Wyrms!”

“Save the princess!”

“The princess! She’s gone!”

“Pst! Alex!” came a loud whisper from the bushes. Riley was there, crouched down in hiding, alongside Autumn. “Let’s get out of here!”
“Kira!” shouted Autumn, who happily zipped out from her cover to greet the elf girl.

“Autumn? What’re you doing here?”

“No time for greetings! Let’s move!” Riley said, motioning for everyone to follow. The five of them made their way away from the battle, dodging through the trees in the dark. Kira and Autumn seemed to have no problem seeing, and Riley acted as if he was used to escapes into the night. Unfortunately, Alex and Edmund had little experience running through tangled undergrowth in the dead of night: Edmund tripped over a root, Alex tripped over the gnome, and the group was quickly divided.

“We found you,” hissed a dark shape approaching Alex as he tried to find his feet. His first thought was of the flute that had driven these creatures off once before, but the commander of Kira’s guards had taken it. He briefly considered flinging the gnome at the wyrm as it crept closer, but there was no time as the monster’s dagger lunged at him.

Whatever scream Alex most likely uttered was drowned out by a roar as something huge burst out hiding, trampling over the slender wyrm and crashing with it into the thick undergrowth. Alex didn’t waste time investigating to see what it was, but instead got up and ran as fast as he could.

“Wait for me!” Edmund called, running behind. Behind them the animalistic snarls and growls of whatever beast it was that took down the wyrm echoed through the night, spurring the gnome to new heights of speed.

“What’re you two doing?” Riley yelled as he backtracked to find his missing companions. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous out here? Now keep up.”

*

The sounds of the battle faded into the distance, and when it was clear no more of the creatures were in pursuit they stopped to rest.

“Who’s the girl?” Riley asked. Even as he asked the questions his eyes scanned the darkness for any further threat.

“This is my friend Kira,” Autumn proclaimed, overjoyed by the sudden appearance of the elf. “I’ve told you about her like a million times already, but I guess gnomes don’t have very good memories…”

“Or he wasn’t listening,” Alex added low enough that the sprite couldn’t hear.

“Oh, I see, now,” Riley said, nudging Alex in the ribs. “Not even a week in the Green and our boy Alex is already kidnapping princesses. Not bad.”

“He didn’t kidnap me,” Kira protested, but Riley waved her off.

“Tell that to your soldier friends. It’s mighty suspicious for their prisoner to escape into the night with their charge during an ambush.”

“That’s crazy,” Alex said. “Those things were after me, too.”

“Come to think of it,” Edmund mused, “they really didn’t even go after the princess, from what I saw. It seemed to me that Alex was their primary target.”

“Shouldn’t you be tied up?” Riley asked, ignoring the other gnome’s logic. Edmund, remembering he was still a prisoner of the group, mumbled an apology and began to pull out some rope from his pack.

“No one is tying anyone up,” Alex said. “Especially themselves,” he added with a look at Edmund. “Those snake guys…”

“Wyrms,” Edmund corrected.

“Those wyrms,” the boy continued, “have been after me for months now, in my world and now here. This is the second time they’ve attacked me, so if anyone has any bright ideas on why or how to make them stop I’d love to know.”

“They won’t stop,” Kira said.

“Huh?”

“It has been a long time since there have been wyrms in the Green,” Kira continued, “but I’ve read the histories. Wyrms aren’t like people. They aren’t born; they’re made using dark magic. It is said their gaze has the power to strike terror into the stoutest heart, and that they know no mercy or fear. They’ll do whatever their master wishes, to the death. I’m surprised to see any still alive, but if whoever is controlling them wants to get you, they’ll keep coming.”

“They are nasty, too,” Edmund added unnecessarily. “Almost as bad as the Dreaded Plog, I’d say.”

“The what?” Alex asked only to be met with blank stares. “Why me, though?” he asked after a moment to keep the conversation on track.

“You’re name is Alex. That’s short for Alexander, right?” Alex nodded, and she continued. “There was once a human named Alexander who entered the Green in accordance to the prophecy set forth in the Tome of Kezerik. He was a mighty warrior, a protector of the Green and its people. He fought alongside my people against the wyrms for many years, and even attempted to kill their creator, the dragon Ssvalith. Perhaps because of your name the wyrms feel there is somehow a connection between you and the Alexander from the legend.”

“Yeah, somehow,” Alex mused. He stood silent for a moment, his mind finally registering something Kira had just said. “Wait, what do you mean ‘attempted to kill’ Ssvalith?”

“Well, the prophecy was that a hero named Alexander would slay the dragon using the fabled Sword of Oaks, forever ridding the Green of Ssvalith’s evil influence. However, in their final battle the beast was only wounded, and the sword was destroyed. Ssvalith’s hold on the Green was severely weakened, but the dragon itself escaped and has been in hiding ever since. The prophecy failed to come to pass and Ssvalith’s armies fought on for decades after, waiting for their master’s return. Many were lost even after the dragon’s defeat, and because of this Alexander is now referred to by many as the False Hero.”

“But he always said that he beat Ssvalith…” Alex whispered to himself.

“Who said?” Autumn asked, but Alex ignored her, if he even heard the question.

This was all wrong. His grandpa had beaten the dragon. That was how the story went! It was different when he had thought that the whole Green was made up, but now to think that grandpa may have been lying about the most important part of his adventures when everything else was true was too much for Alex to believe. There had to be something these people were missing, but what?

“Alex?” Kira asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

“He was thinking again,” Autumn said. “He does that a lot, kind of zones out for a few minutes. I’ll go find a stick to poke him with,” she offered, flying off into the woods.

“I hope he was thinking of a plan,” Riley said, picking up his bags. “We should get moving. Send the princess back to her escort and let’s get out of here.”

“What?” Alex looked at the gnome as if he were crazy. “I’m not sending her back there! What if those things are still out ther…Ow!” Alex was cut off as Autumn came back with a stick and jabbed him in the ribs. “Give me that,” he muttered, snatching it away.

“She’ll be fine,” Riley said as he looked for the best trail to take. “They’re after you, remember? Besides, if the elves do win they’ll come looking for you, too, and they’re likely to shoot first and forget the questions altogether.”

“I’m going with you,” Kira stated simply, cutting off any further argument.

“What?”

“Really?”

“Yay!”

“We could wait until morning and take you back,” Alex offered, but she was already taking one of the backpacks off the ground. She walked off into the night, Autumn trailing behind.

“You were going to find Eyell, right? Well, who better than his daughter to take you there?”

“We don’t need you to get us to the king,” Riley argued. “I just so happen to be a personal associate of Chancellor Ishari.”

“Oh, you mean my uncle Ishari?” Kira asked smugly. “It just so happens that I know him, too. Either way, I’m the best one to get you to where you’re going. Unless, of course,” she added with a wink over her shoulder at Alex, easy to see in the dark with her glowing eyes, “you prefer to follow these gnomes through the Mists. They say that the Mists are a mysterious place, where reality blurs and no path leads the same place twice. Someone who doesn’t know the way could become lost for days, even weeks.”

Alex took one look at Riley, shrugged, and started walking after Kira.

“We’re going to have so much fun, Kira,” Autumn said, perching atop the girl’s shoulder. “These boys aren’t so great at conversation, grunts and growls, mostly, and I’ve said for days this group could use another girl…”

“Kidnapping princesses,” Riley muttered as he took his place in line. “Nothing but trouble.”

Alex disagreed. ‘Kidnapping’ the princess seemed to be his best move yet.

*

Dawn found the group (and quite a large group it had grown to be in the past few days) back on track to the Mists, the ancestral homeland of the elves. True to its name, the forest became murkier as they went. Whereas other parts of the forest were generally open and sunny but for the shade of the canopy of branches overhead, the Mists were a tangled mass of ancient trees and vines that left the forest floor in a perpetual twilight. Fog hung in the air, at first in low lying spots but all around the further they went, shrouding the world in white. Soon it was all Alex could do to see ten feet in front of his nose, and with the thick undergrowth of bushes and hanging vines, getting separated from the smaller members of the group was a constant threat.

It was a good thing, then, that they had ‘kidnapped’ themselves a guide. Riley grumbled that he could have done just as well, but everyone else seemed more than happy to follow Kira as she expertly guided the company through innumerable twists and turns. She was adept at finding trails and footpaths where it looked like there were none and the fog did not seem to trouble her in the least. Kira spoke as she walked, explaining that the mist all about them was a sure sign that the area was one where the borders between worlds were thin, but to Alex it was all just condensation. Still, maybe there was something to the theory. After all, the wyrms had originally attacked him on a foggy night, and Autumn had said he came through something called a Mistgate. The thought off wyrms hiding in the mists came unbidden to Alex’s mind, causing him to quicken his pace a bit.

“Slow down, you’ll tire yourself out,” Riley grumbled. He was becoming surlier each passing day, and though this whole trip had initially been his idea, he seemed less than eager to pass through the Mists now that they were here.

“How much further until we reach our destination?” Edmund asked, pointedly walking faster just to annoy Riley. He couldn’t keep the pace up for long, and soon he was back in the rear of the group.

“Not so far, now,” Kira answered. She kept the group moving at a faster pace than even Alex’s nervousness would have warranted. “We’ll be reaching the edges of the meeting grounds soon, and then we can find my father.”

“You keep saying stuff like that,” Alex said. “I mean, shouldn’t he be pretty easy to find? He is a king, so wouldn’t he have a castle or something?”

“There is the palace,” Kira replied, “and we’ll start there, but it isn’t that easy. Elves are nomadic; it is our nature to travel. The palace is really more of a landmark for those traveling the Mists than a capital. My father maintains a presence there for only for the convenience of the chieftains. The tribes have used it as a stopping point between journeys since the War, a place where they can gather to trade and settle disputes in peace. Still, there’s no guarantee that my father will be there when we arrive.”

“What?” Alex said, stopping in his tracks. “How am I supposed to get home if we have to wait for him? You’re his daughter; shouldn’t you know where he is?”

Kira stopped. Autumn, still sitting on her shoulder, turned back and gave Alex a mean look.

“Meany,” she said, going so far as to stick out her tongue.

Alex was confused. “What’d I say?”

“My father…” Kira said softly, not turning around. “I haven’t seen my father for several weeks now. Something had been troubling him, and so he went to seek answers on his own without telling anyone where he’s going. Normally he would have returned by now, or at least sent word to me, but none have heard a thing from him. I was returning from searching for him when you were captured by my guards.”

“So he’s missing?”

“He has always come back before,” Kira continued, starting to walk again. Her voice went up an octave, as if she were trying to sound more hopeful. “I surely would have found him had my uncle not insisted I take a coach and so many guards. I know he worries about me, but the way the trails are in this part of the Green I could have covered a lot more ground alone on foot.”

“Well he’d better be there when I get there,” Alex stated resolutely. Edmund shot him a warning look, but the boy didn’t quite get the meaning of it.

They traveled on in silence for a long while, with not even Autumn chatting except to whisper into Kira’s ear. Every now and then the sprite would turn to glare at Alex. He got the feeling that it was something he had said. Not that he felt sorry. All he wanted to do was to go back to his world. Couldn’t he be a little frustrated at the prospect that Eyell may not even be where he was supposed to be? So what if Kira missed her dad? What about his parents? Surely they missed him as much.

Strange. In as many days as he had been in the Green, this was the first time he had even thought about his parents. He’d thought more of his room and video games and other lost comforts. Did they miss him? Of course they did. It must have been frightening to find him gone, his room in disarray. By now they would have called the police, but it’s not like they would be able to do anything. There’d be a search, and after a few weeks he’d be chalked up as another unexplained kidnapping, never to be seen again. It was all the more reason to get home as soon as possible.

Another thought tried to assert itself, that maybe his parents couldn’t look for him, that the wyrms who had gone after him may have…he pushed the idea out of his head. There was no use worrying about it, he thought.

“So…” Alex began, trying to break the awkward silence, “What is your father like?”

“He is very wise,” Kira said, “and he possesses much knowledge of the Green and its magic. Many look upon him with awe, even reverence, but he doesn’t want it to be that way. He really just wants to be an elf like any other, to travel and see the wonders of the forest, and to teach the young what he has learned.”

“Well, he certainly can’t just wander about like that,” Edmund stated. “Without Eyell, who could possibly lead all the different tribes? It’d be mass chaos.”

“Maybe they’d lead themselves,” Riley quipped. “No one leads me and I do just fine.”

“Preposterous!” the younger gnome shot back. “Society needs rules, and people to create those rules, and enforce them, and cross-reference them with other rules, and…”

Riley smirked. “Just like Ghome?”

“Exactly,” retorted Edmund. Riley’s snorted response, a perfect imitation of a certain dwarf merchant, let everyone know what he thought of that.

“Edmund is right, actually,” Kira said.

Even Edmund looked surprised at her agreement. “I am?”

“You’re both right, in a way. My father didn’t really choose to be a king, but he acts as such out of duty for his people. From the First Dawn in the Green, the elven race has been tasked with the defending the forest and its peoples from evil. As such we were always nomads, moving from place to place in order to maintain the harmony and peace of the Green. However, after a time we became arrogant, thinking that if we were to protect the Green, then by right we should also be its rulers. We ceased our wandering and crafted magnificent cities linked by grand highways and soaring bridges. If you look around you can still find the ruins, here and there, though there isn’t much left of what was. We tried to civilize the Green, to tame it, but in the end all we did was shut ourselves out of it. Soon everything that happened outside the walls of our cities was unimportant.”

“Still, for a long age there was peace, at least on the surface, but the nobles always maneuvered for prestige and power behind the scenes. When the dragon came we should have easily driven his armies back, but instead our cities fell one by one. Old rivalries and feuds were such that even in the face of doom the nobles could not bring themselves to work together. The Council which led our race was shattered, and the surviving members squabbled for power even as the forests burned.”

“That’s when my father showed them a better way. He brought us back to the old ways of wandering, the way we elves lived from the First Day, long before we had built our cities and palaces. He reminded us that the forest could provide all we need, that the Green would protect us if only we protected it in turn. Only then were we able to turn back the tide against the wyrms. We would never have survived the war against the dragon and his armies had my father not brought the tribes together under his rule.”

Edmund puffed up at his perceived triumph over his rival. “See, even with the barbarian elf tribes…no offense, princess…law and order prevails. We can’t all be freebooting criminals like you.”

“That’s not what she said!” Riley shot back. “It was simpering bureaucrats like you that led to the fall of the whole Elven Empire! If Ssvalith showed up at Ghome’s front gate tomorrow, he’d have half the city burned before the president could get approval to form the committee to confirm that he actually was a dragon!”

“Scoundrel!”

“Lackey!”

“Ne’er-do-well!”

Alex groaned. One little question to break the tension was about to turn into a miniature war between the gnomes. “What about your mother?” Alex asked, ignoring the brewing argument behind him. “Is there like an elf queen or something?”

Kira kept her eyes on the ground and slowed her pace. “My mother…”

“Hey! Lookit!” Autumn shouted. The gnomes stopped their posturing and fist shaking long enough to glance over to where the sprite hovered.

“What is it?” Alex asked.

Kira looked up and smiled. “We’re here.”

Alex rushed forward past the elf, pushing past the leaves and branches to get a glimpse of the city, but still all he saw were more trees. Trees, and the ever-present fog, of course.

“Where? I don’t see anything.”

“Right there!” Autumn pointed. “And there, and there, and there…”

Alex kept walking, and one by one shapes began to materialize out of the fog. There was a city here, though he could have passed within feet of it and never known it was there. Small houses of gray stone stood in neat rows, along both sides, but it was obvious no one had lived in them for a long time. The roofs and doors had long since rotted away leaving only the walls, where indeed they weren’t simply collapsed piles of stones. The ground was littered with small flat stones that showed that at one time the streets may have been paved, but now there was only dirt and a carpet of fallen leaves to line the way.

“What is this?” Alex wondered aloud. “It looks like no one has lived here for years.”

“These are the ruins of New Odyssey,” Kira said quietly. “This was once a kingdom of your people.”

Alex nodded, remembering what Edmund and Riley had told him about the place. “So humans built all this?” Alex asked as much as stated. “Too bad there aren’t any left, but it looks to me like no one lives here at all. Where are all the elves you keep talking about?”

“There’s a few over there,” Edmund said casually.

“Move at your own peril!” commanded a voice from the fog.

“No one move,” Kira cautioned. “It’s a ranger patrol.”

From all around elves emerged from the mists. They wore dark cloaks of green and grey that blended in with the forest, and each held long bows with arrows already drawn and ready to skewer any of them who made a wrong move.

“Princess Kira?” asked the elf who had spoken first. He was an exceptionally lean elf, even as elves went, and he looked more than ready to use the bow he held. “We had word that you had been kidnapped,” he paused and eyed Alex with obvious distrust. “By a human,” he finished.

“The reports were exaggerated, Captain Laelen,” Kira replied respectfully. “May we enter the city?”

“You may, but we have orders that you are to be taken directly to the palace if found. You and your…friends will come with us right away, princess. The Chancellor will speak with you.”

*

Chapter 6: Castle in the Mists

He darted through the forest, jumping obstacles in his path, ducking under branches, ever intent upon his target. Ahead the troll loomed, towering over the diminutive fighter. Its warty back was turned, so it never knew that its foul life was at an end. The warrior’s blade flashed across the back of the beast’s legs, and it stumbled, almost falling. It turned with a snarl, but the hero stood firm with sword ready.

“Alex!” the beast roared in anger. “What do you think you are doing?”

Suddenly the plastic sword he held didn’t seem such a threat to the monster. In fact, the blade had bent slightly from the force of the initial blow.

“I’m an elf ranger,” he declared proudly, not backing down in the face of certain doom. “It is my duty to protect the Green from evil!”

The troll, suddenly looking very much like an angry mother, reached down and took the toy sword from her son.

“Alex, I’ve told you a thousand times no hitting,” she scolded. “I knew it was a bad idea when your grandpa gave you this thing.” She reached up and put the sword into a cabinet beyond his reach.

“But I need that! I wanna be an elf like in grandpa’s stories. He said I could grow up and be a hero like him.”

She scowled at the mention of the stories. “Alex, you’re not an elf, you’re not a hero, you’re a child. Besides, people don’t hit people with swords anymore. It’s not right. I’m going to have to have a talk with your grandpa about those violent stories of his next time I see him. Now go to your room and play a videogame or something until your father gets home.”

The little boy looked one last time at the cabinet where his weapon was stored and then walked back to his room, defeated.

*

Alex found this trek surrounded by elf soldiers much more enjoyable than his last one. Though they still eyed him and his companions with suspicion (except Kira and Autumn, of course), at least he wasn’t tied up this time. The rangers seemed to follow Kira’s lead concerning them, especially after she claimed they had rescued her from danger when her coach was attacked at the way station. It was a loose interpretation of the truth, but enough to make them guests instead of prisoners. Still, some of the elves seemed to hold back only grudgingly. They were obviously on edge for some reason, and Alex was certain that one wrong move would be more than enough to set them off. Even their princess wouldn’t be able to stop them then, but Alex had every intention to behave himself.

The guards led them directly through the city, if it could really be called a city. Ruin was more like it. Even this deep into the city most of the structures stood empty and abandoned, and even those with lights in the windows more often than not had no roofs and never any doors. The majority of the elves Alex saw sat around squat tents or under tarps fastened to the branches overhead. The entire place had a temporary feel to it, as if the elves at any time could pack and leave like they had never been there at all. Edmund, of course, was appalled by the lack of commerce and industry, and he said as much aloud until Riley reminded him that he was surrounded by archers who may not like his criticism of their home.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t look like much of a city,” the gnome observed. “No shops, no factories. Not even any people out for the day, really, and don’t even get me started on all of the building code violations. What if I needed a new hat at three in the morning? I’d be out of luck, now, wouldn’t I?”

Alex sighed. “Why would you possibly need a new hat at 3:00 AM?”

“Well, I wouldn’t,” Edmund confessed, “but it’s comforting to know that the option is available, in Ghome, at least.”

“Edmund does have a point…sort of,” Kira said.

“About the hats?”

“No, about the lack of people. Where is everyone?” Kira asked. Except for the troupe of guards and their guests, the winding paths through the city were mostly empty. The few elves they did see moved quickly and quietly, as if they didn’t want to be outside any longer than necessary. “There are normally two or three tribes here at any given time, but all I see are rangers and a few traders.”

“The tribes have left,” the elf Kira had called Laelen said. “Many things have changed in the short time you were gone, princess.”

Concern and confusion briefly flashed across the elf girl’s face. “I don’t understand.”

“Your father’s prolonged absence has caused some of the old tensions between the larger tribes to flare up again. Even the children can feel that something evil stirs in the Green, and the people have few places to look for answers. Chancellor Ishari has been in constant meetings with the chieftains to try to keep the peace, but there have been…incidents. For security reasons, he has had to expel many from the palace whose loyalties were in question and replace them with his own guards and servants. Several of the chieftains took offense at this and left the council altogether, taking their tribes with them. To make matters worse, on top of all of this there is a beast prowling the Mists, a great bear.”

“So?” Autumn asked. “There’re lots of critters in the woods. Besides, bears aren’t so bad. You scratch ‘em behind the ears and they’re all yours.”

The patrol captain shook his head. “This is different. The bear is unusually aggressive. It has already slain several of the palace guard in the dark of the night. Even Chancellor Ishari himself narrowly escaped its claws last time he attempted to travel beyond the palace. It is cunning as well, too cunning for an animal, as it has managed to avoid our rangers for several days now.”

Kira didn’t reply, but it was obvious that she was shaken by returning home to such news.

Something tugged at Alex’s pant leg.

“Hey Alex.”

The boy looked down to see Edmund walking next to him. “Remember that monster that saved us from the you-know-whats? It was awfully bear-like, wouldn’t you say?”

He was whispering, but loud enough that the taller Alex could hear without bending down. That also meant that every elf in a hundred foot radius also probably heard, and indeed, more than one of the rangers glanced at the pair with renewed interest. Alex waved him off, not wanting any more attention from the elves. They seemed suspicious enough towards him as it was, and he had no intention of giving them a reason to think some feared monster-bear was related to him in any way. It did seem likely, though, that having encountered it firsthand only a few nights ago, Alex and Edmund actually knew more about the creature than the elves hunting for it.

“What of my father?” Kira said, breaking out of her melancholy.

“He returned to us three nights ago,” the captain said. “It is said he went straight to Chancellor Ishari upon his return and has been in his chambers at the palace ever since.” Kira visibly relaxed at the news, but Alex was the one with true cause for celebration.

“Great!” he exclaimed. “I have to talk to him. When can I see him?”

The captain again looked over Alex through narrowed eyes, as if his meeting with Kira and desire to see Eyell were parts of some heinous plot.

“It’s alright, Captain Laelen,” Kira said, trying to dispel the tension. “I shall take him to see my father personally. He’s my rescuer, after all,” she finished with a wink at Alex. Alex seemed to remember her saving him as much as he saved her, but chose not to correct her if it meant an audience with the king.

The ranger didn’t look so easily convinced. “You will have to speak with the chancellor, first, princess. The king has been troubled since his return and refuses to see anyone without Chancellor Ishari’s permission. Not even the remaining chieftains who practically beg for his council. I myself have only seen him from afar since he arrived.”

Well he better be ready to see me, Alex thought to himself. He had come too far to wait while Eyell worried about some bear or whatever it was. He had a planet to get back to.

Up ahead loomed what could only be the palace. It appeared suddenly out of the perpetual mist that enshrouded the entire area, a once-grand castle of ancient stone. After seeing the discrete dwellings of the elves and the quaint little houses of the former human inhabitants, Alex couldn’t help but think such a massive structure was out of place here. The outer walls were cracked in many places and were covered with creeping vines, giving it the same crumbling look as many of the other ruins Alex had seen in his time in the Green. Unlike those other ruins, though, the palace was clearly occupied. Here and there scaffolds had been set up around places where the walls were being repaired with what Alex assumed was ‘top-notch Stonechewer Clan stone.’ Guards walked the walls and lined the steps to the main entrance, their bright red capes and tunics standing in stark contrast to the dark camouflage of the rangers as well as the general gloom of the place.

At the top of the steps an elf stood in elaborate silk robes, red with gold stitching running down its entire length and along the sleeves in elaborate spiraling vines. It was easily the gaudiest dress he had ever seen an elf wear. Even the princess wore the same simple green and brown tunic and pants that Alex had seen on most every other elf, and she was royalty. The only thing marring his immaculate appearance was a trio of deep and relatively fresh scratches on the side of his face.

“Princess Kira,” the ornate elf said, bowing low as she led the way up the stairs. “Word had come that your carriage had been attacked and that you were missing. I am pleased that you are not harmed.”

“Chancellor Ishari,” she acknowledged with a brief nod. “Is it true that my father has returned?”

“Why yes, princess.” He glanced up, leading all eyes to a robed figure looking out a high window several stories up. The figure quickly turned and moved out of sight before Alex could get a clear look at him. “I am afraid he is quite busy at the moment, or else he would have been down to great you all. The beast in the woods is our top priority now that you are returned to us.” The chancellor gestured to his wounded face. “As you can see, none are safe while that monster roams free.”

The chancellor gestured, and two elves, also in red tunics but without the guards’ armor or weapons, ran out to stand behind him.

Kira arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Servants, uncle?”

“I know your father’s views on keeping servants, but with so much of my time taken up by other matters during his absence I thought it fit to bring in some outside help to tend the palace grounds. A temporary measure, I assure you,” he finished offhandedly. The chancellor turned to the servants, which waited patiently for their orders. “See to the princess’s comfort and escort our friends to the guest chambers so they can ready themselves for tonight. We shall prepare a feast in honor of our guests.”

“Ahem.” Riley cleared his throat.

“What? Why, is that my old friend Riley Haussenfeld?” The chancellor smiled. “Forgive me, I was so caught up in the princess’s return that I didn’t even notice you there.” Ishari’s smile only widened as Riley scowled at him. “Mr. Haussenfeld shall have a room in the east wing, next to my apartments. We have much catching up to do.”

The group split up, one of the servants taking Kira and Autumn to her room and the other leading Alex and Edmund along. Riley went off alone with the chancellor.

“Something is off about those two,” Edmund mumbled. “I don’t like it.”

“Riley told me when I met him that he was friends with Ishari,” Alex replied, stumbling just a bit with the elvish name. Alex frowned a bit. He had also said the chancellor was intensely interested in humans, but he hadn’t even glanced at Alex. It didn’t matter, though. He was here all the same, and even if he had to wait some he’d get to see Eyell soon enough. Then he could work his magical-whatever to whisk him back to Earth.

“Your room, my lords,” bowed the servant, averting his eyes. He had led them to an intricately carved wooden door not far from the palace entrance. The door was the most elaborate part, for inside was a rather small room with no window and two narrow bunk beds. From the dust on the furniture, it hadn’t seen much use in some time.

“I shall return when dinner is to be served, my lords. I trust you will change into more suitable clothing.”

Alex looked down at his ripped t-shirt, pajama bottoms, and muddy gnome-shoes.

“I…uh…really don’t have anything else,” he said sheepishly.

“Then a change of clothes will be sent at once,” the servant said, still bowing and not meeting Alex’s gaze. The elf closed the door behind him.

“That guy was weird,” Alex stated a few seconds after the door closed.

“I’d say,” Edmund agreed. “What kind of servant doesn’t carry your bags for you?”

“No, he wouldn’t look at me.”

“Well, you are somewhat strange.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean no offence, but you must consider how few humans come to the Green these days. Maybe he didn’t want to look like he was staring.”

“Yeah, I guess. Oh, you aren’t our prisoner anymore, by the way. You can go home whenever you want.”

Edmund seemed to think about that as he removed his suit jacket and started going over it with a lint brush in preparation for dinner. Finally he shook his head.

“There is no way I’m leaving here while that bear is out there. Sure, it helped us, but maybe just because the wyrm was a meatier meal. Besides, truth be told I am gathering invaluable data on you as a subject that will aid in future human/gnome relations.”

“What future human/gnome relations?” Alex asked. “I’m the only one who’s come in like two hundred years, and who knows when someone else will come through once I leave. What did you do before I showed up, anyway?”

“Well, it’s usually fairly slow business, most days,” Edmund mused. “Well, every day, actually. We haven’t had a new case in years, and one can only go over the old Leomund file so many times. Most of Ghome considers my department as a dumping ground for those who don’t have the skills or connections to secure a more prestigious position, and maybe they’re right.”

“Why don’t you just quit, then?” Alex asked.

“Well, I couldn’t,” Edmund explained, puffing out his tiny chest a bit. “A VonHalderson has been in the DHA ever since it was founded, all the way back to the great Reginald VonHalderson before the War against the dragon. We opened trade relations with the lost human city of New Odyssey, we found the great hero Alexander Samuels, even though that didn’t go quite as everyone expected, we…wait a second.” The gnome looked at Alex as if for the first time. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe in our time together I ever did hear your full name.”

“It’s Samuels,” Alex confessed. “Alexander Samuels.” He fully expected the gnome’s reaction, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

“That’s amazing! Fantastic! To think, a human of the same name as the hero that stood up to the dragon! I mean, I was thrilled just to have an actual new case, but I had no idea!” The gnome began pacing furiously back and forth across the small room, kicking up dust and rumpling his recently smoothed jacket. “I wonder what the connection is. Could it be an ancestral lineage or maybe just a coincidence in names or…”

“He’s my grandpa,” Alex explained.

“Direct bloodline? Even better! Have you met him? Spoken with him? Of course you have! Oh, the things you could tell us! I’m sure he had other magnificent adventures after he left the Green…”

“Not really,” Alex mumbled.

“Oh.” The gnome deflated a bit. “Still, this will make my final report all the more impressive, to have such a celebrity connection. You know, a lot of folk seem a little bitter that he didn’t kill Ssvalith like the old prophecy said he would, but I always thought the tale was quite entertaining all the same, and it was a major victory in the War, all told. Ssvalith hasn’t reared his head since that day, and while I am no general I can only assume that fighting a battle is much easier when there is no threat that you will be incinerated from above. Why, I bet you could even help fill in some of the gaps in the story! Just let me fetch my notepad. I have so many new questions…”

A knock at the door cut him off, and Alex thankfully answered it. It was another servant bearing a set of clothes for Alex. The elf silently proffered the bundle and left, again avoiding all eye contact with Alex.

“So, as I was saying,” Edmund began as Alex tried on the elvish attire. It was a simple sleeveless green tunic with brown trousers and sandals, similar in style to Kira’s clothes only less feminine in cut and of much coarser material. The colors even matched the cloak Riley had given him. Alex looked over the remnants of his tattered pajamas and without regret tossed them in the small trash bin that sat between the beds.

“Not now,” Alex interrupted before Edmund could continue his interrogation. “It’ll be hours until dinner time, and there’s no way I’m spending it locked up in this room. I’m going to go look around.”

“But if you would only…”

The door closed in the gnome’s face. Edmund frowned and scribbled a new entry into his notepad.

“Human/Gnome Relations Note #37: Humans have very short attention spans, especially when confronted with simple questioning. Recommendation: be sure the door is locked before interviewing in the future.”

*

The palace was much larger than Alex had originally anticipated. Much of it seemed abandoned, as many corridors were covered in layers of dust and crumbled stone. Some were even overgrown with plant life where either windows or holes in the walls or ceiling let enough light in. Other parts better fit what Alex thought a castle might look like: hallways that were well lit by oil lamps, expensive looking furniture, plush red carpet, and of course many servants bustling about on errands. It was a strange mix, one that made Alex wonder what had happened to the damaged areas and why no one bothered to fix them. Perhaps it was that whole ‘nomad’ thing the elves had going on. Maybe they weren’t even the ones who had built the place. If they just wandered in, it made sense that once it fell apart they’d just wander out.

Even though the structure itself was largely in disrepair, the artwork contained within was exquisite. Despite multiple school field trips to museums and art galleries, Alex had little knowledge of art, but even he could tell that this was the kind of stuff that would send his teachers into screaming fits if he tried to touch it. The inhabited halls were lined with marble statues of elf warriors, bas-reliefs of past battles or other great events, paintings of important looking gnomes, intricate tapestries depicting different parts of the forest, and the like. Anyone passing through couldn’t help but note that many of the newer looking paintings and statues bore a striking resemblance to Chancellor Ishari, but from both Riley’s and lately Kira’s descriptions of the elf he was supposedly almost as popular and loved by the elves as Eyell.

Alex stopped in front of one tapestry whose style stood out from the others, a massive work that covered a whole wall. It was a scene of a gigantic black and green-scaled dragon descending upon a castle. It was the monster that drew his attention first, a horrible creature even in thread form that breathed fire as it flew, but looking at the wider picture something struck him. The structure was unmistakably the elf palace, but he was shocked to find that it depicted humans, not elves, fighting back against the dragon. Even stranger, the landscape around the castle was clearly not the mist shrouded woods that stood outside, but a mountainous area with snow on the ground. Either some elf weaver had a strange imagination, or it was just one more sign that this place was not as it seemed.

“You there! Human!” growled a voice from behind. Alex spun to find a red eyed elf staring at him, and it took him a moment to recognize the commander of Kira’s guards. From the bandages on his arms and left leg and the way he leaned on a crutch, he hadn’t escaped the battle with the wyrms unscathed. Alex’s first instinct was to run, as he was confident that an injured elf couldn’t be that swift, but before he could make a move the elf’s grim face broke into a smile.

“I was told you were in the palace, and the gnome in your room said you were out wandering the halls. I had to find you to give you my thanks.”

“Huh?” Alex seemed to be saying stuff like that a lot lately.

“I misjudged you, human,” the elf said, hobbling forward. “It was my duty to protect princess Kira, but when the wyrms assaulted us it was you, our prisoner, who got her to safety. For that, you have my thanks.”

Alex was dumbfounded. All he had done was run because Riley had said so. The fact that the girl had come with him was none of his doing.

“Don’t mention it,” he managed to say.

The elf leaned in close, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, before I knew that you had brought the princess here, I had thought you in league with the enemy. In fact, I had sworn to hunt you down and kill you.”

Alex stared back into the soldier’s unblinking red eyes and paled by several shades of white, and the elf laughed.

“My name is Aerwyn of the Forest Song tribe, ranger lieutenant to King Eyell.”

“Alex,” the boy answered, reaching out to take the elf’s extended hand. “So, you know Eyell?”

“Everyone here knows Eyell,” the elf replied. “He’s very close to his people, especially ever since he united the tribes under one rule. We were once a fractured race, isolated from each other along family and tribal lines, but Eyell changed all that. Take this castle for example. This wasn’t always an elven settlement, far from it, in fact. However, the king thought we should have a place where all could gather in peace, a sort of neutral ground. We certainly needed one after what the dragon did to our cities.”

“The dragon?” Alex asked. “You mean Ssvalith?”

“Who else? Thankfully we’ve no other dragons in the Green. That’s him there, in the tapestry, though as one who saw Ssvalith with his own eyes, I can say it hardly does him justice.”

At that statement Alex again wondered just how long elves lived. Ssvalith disappeared long ago by all accounts, but it seemed like a good number of people had been there when it happened: Eyell, Aerwyn, his grandpa, and who knew how many others. Of course, for his grandpa to have been there, too, maybe that meant a year here was a lot shorter than on Earth. Alex resolved to ask his him whenever he got home, on top of everything else the old man had to answer for. Filing such thoughts away at the back of his mind, he glanced back over his shoulder at the tapestry. He had always imagined what Ssvalith might look like, but if the scene before him was to scale, he had vastly underestimated the sheer size of the monster.

“This picture is of this castle, right?” Alex asked. “Who made it?”

Aerwyn shrugged. “As far as I know it has always been here. Some say it is part of a larger set, carried away by the humans of New Odyssey, but the rest were lost during the war with Ssvalith. Once you get a chance to meet with the king, I’m sure he could tell you much more than I could.”

He could see that Aerwyn wasn’t going to go into any further detail, so he changed the subject. “Speaking of me meeting the king and all, what do you know about Chancellor Ishari?” he asked, hoping to learn more about what could be his last obstacle to seeing Eyell. “I haven’t really heard much about him.”

Aerwyn looked around as if checking to see if anyone else were around before answering. “Most will tell you that the chancellor is a fine elf. He is, or should I say was, Queen Tiralia’s younger brother. He’s been one of Eyell’s closest advisors for some time, especially since the queen’s passing, the forest rest her spirit. The fact that he is of noble birth has done much to gain the support of certain factions who lament King Eyell’s lack of pedigree, as if that matters anymore. He is also a gifted magus in his own right who proved himself in battle against Ssvalith’s armies during the War. These days his main duty is to manage the day-to-day operation of the palace and surrounding city for the king. Recently, though, he has also been acting as king-regent in Eyell’s absence, settling disputes between the tribes. I don’t know what we’d do without him.” Something about the flat way he said it made Alex wonder how much the elf really appreciated Ishari’s leadership.

“But now that the king is back, things are back to normal, right?” Alex ventured. “When can I meet him?”

The ranger replied with a shrug. “I haven’t had a chance to see his majesty since my return, so I really couldn’t tell you. I’m sure he’ll show when dinner is served. For him to not attend a banquet in honor of the one who rescued his only daughter would be a sure sign that something is wrong. We shall speak later, Alex. I would enjoy giving you a tour of these halls, but my wounded leg will not permit. Before I go, however…” Aerwyn reached into his belt and drew out a familiar flute.

“I should have realized that anyone in possession of such a gift could not be a servant of evil,” he said, handing it to Alex. “Hang on to that. You’ll need it when the time comes.”

“Huh?” Alex said again, but the elf simply smiled and walked away. Alex watched him go, standing stupidly until he was out of sight. Why did people insist on talking to him as if he had any idea what was going on? Maybe he should attempt to say more than monosyllabic sentences if he wanted answers, he realized. He gave one last look to the tapestry of Ssvalith and went on down the halls.

*

The halls of the ancient castle proved more confusing than Alex had thought, as after several wrong turns he found that he was no where near his room. After some time of wandering around aimlessly, a servant managed to find him to inform him that dinner was already being served. Alex arrived late to the dining hall to a collection of perturbed stares that let him know they had all been waiting for him before eating.

The dinning hall sat at the heart of the castle, and was one of the few rooms devoid of any sign of disrepair. It was well lit by a great chandelier suspended overhead, which threw sparkles of light onto the rich tapestries that covered the walls. The center of the room was dominated by a long oaken table, large enough to seat at least fifty or more, though tonight only the nine people dined: Alex, Kira, the two gnomes, Autumn, Aerwyn, and the elf chancellor. Alex was surprised to see Kira in a dress after seeing her for so many days in her traveling clothes, but in such a fancy setting it seemed to suit her. Two other elves also sat on either side of Ishari, but Alex didn’t recognize them. Conspicuously absent from the head of the table was King Eyell, who, aside from the brief appearance at his window when they had arrived, had remained unseen. Alex mumbled something about getting lost and took a seat between Edmund and Aerwyn.

“Ah, our honored guest has arrived,” Chancellor Ishari said graciously as Alex was seated. “I believe you’ve already met our ranger friend, Aerwyn. Allow me to introduce you to our other guests: to my right,” he said, gesturing to an exceptionally tall and thin elf sitting beside him, “Dumitore, the chieftain of the Crescent Moon tribe. To my left,” he continued, gesturing to the other elf, whose open vest revealed many scars, prominently displayed like badges of honor, “is the chieftain of the Weeping Sky, Therihal, also known as the Trollslayer. Both of them have been working very closely with me during the king’s extended absence, and they and those of their tribes have been instrumental to maintaining peace and order during these troubled times.”

The chieftains remained silent as they were introduced, seemingly refusing to even acknowledge Alex’s presence. Kira seemed vaguely troubled by their presence, but she, too, said nothing. Ishari gave the pair a moment to see if they had anything to say, and then continued.

“Our guest, as you can see, is a human from the other world who goes by the name Alex. Believe me when I say it is an honor to have one of your people at our humble table once again. My good friend Mr. Haussenfeld has told me so much about you. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” Riley said around a mouthful of food.

“Such a brilliant conversationalist, our Riley,” Edmund snidely commented, only to receive a dinner roll upside his head from the glowering gnome.

“Behave yourselves,” Autumn, of all people, scolded. “You are guests here.” Though she sat in what was basically a highchair, from the refined way she ate her meal it was clear she was used to eating in such an elegant setting. The image of grace was spoiled, however, when she excitedly looked at Kira for approval.

“Shall my father be joining us tonight, chancellor?” Kira asked, her voice taking on a more regal tone than Alex was used to hearing from her.

“Alas, no,” mourned the chancellor. “This business with that horrid bear has him quite trapped at the moment. Several more of my own personal guard has gone missing, and we fear the worst. I beg him to eat and take better care of himself, but you know how he is. A threat to his people is of greater concern and all.”

Despite the pleasantness of the surroundings, Alex couldn’t help but recall Aerwyn’s words from out in the halls earlier. “I’ll get to talk to him after dinner, though, right?” Alex stated more than asked.

“We’ll see,” Ishari said. “I shall ask him to make time for you as our guest. After all, it has been quite some time since a human has graced these halls with his presence.” Alex relaxed at that, confident that nothing was amiss.

“Dreadful times that was,” the chancellor continued, “what with the false hero failing to fulfill that silly prophecy and all. Some would say the whole affair soured our view of your race, but rest assured I personally feel no animosity towards you.” The silent stares of the two chieftains, who had yet to touch their food, made it obvious that the feeling was not universal. “Besides,” the chancellor finished, “it’s not like you come claiming to be some mighty conquering hero like that Alexander…isn’t that right, young Alex?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right,” Alex mumbled, not missing the emphasis the elf put on his name every time he said it. Edmund, having only recently learned the truth about his connection to the so called “False Hero,” gave Alex an eager look as if he wanted him to elaborate, but he didn’t feel like being cooperative. Instead he focused on his dinner, the first decent warm meal he had had in days. Time spent hiking in the woods made one really miss easy access to fast food. A few more days and he may have found himself missing the school cafeteria’s food. Almost.

“Princess Kira,” the chancellor prompted after allowing his guests to eat in silence for a while. “Aerwyn has told me how much you’ve been practicing your spellcraft while you’ve been searching for your father.”

“Every day,” she replied with pride. “Mainly divination spells to assist in the search, but I’ve also learned some defensive enchantments and…”

“Sneaking spells?” Ishari added with a wry grin. Kira blushed and stuttered to find a response, but the chancellor merely laughed politely. “I recall purposely staying away from teaching you anything like that, but you are your father’s daughter. I knew you’d puzzle them out on your own eventually, though I do hope you use them less liberally than his majesty does. Maybe if he wasn’t always sneaking away from the palace you wouldn’t have had to go looking for him in the first place.”

“My father is an elf, is he not?” Kira responded. “You can’t expect him to stay here at the palace at all times.”

“No, I suppose not,” Ishari said, “but it can be trying for the chieftains who need to settle a dispute when he disappears without telling anyone. How is he to rule if he doesn’t at least let his own advisor where he is going? Our people could benefit from a monarch who is more…available to them. One who doesn’t shy away from his station, but embraces it.”

Kira frowned at that. “What are you saying?”

“Oh, I meant nothing by it,” the chancellor assured. “King Eyell has ever led us with wisdom and grace. It is just that lately there is…talk, I guess you could say, about how our people once thrived in the days before the War. There are those who would seek to bring about a reemergence of the Empire.”

“Our people thrive now, uncle,” Kira said patiently, as if she had had this conversation with Ishari before. It reminded Alex of his parent’s arguing over the ambiguous ‘Atlantic City Incident.’ Both sides had long since run out of new arguments and neither was willing to budge, but the conflict remained, all the same. “The Green gives us all we could want,” Kira was saying. “We have no need of a new Empire. I trust that you aren’t encouraging this sort of talk.”

Ishari laughed lightly behind his wineglass. “Oh, of course not, dear princess. We all know your father is dead set against the idea of even rebuilding a single elven city, let alone rebuilding the whole Empire.”

“Then why is it that you’ve been making all these renovations to the palace, Chancellor?” Aerwyn growled.

“Oh, this?” the elf asked innocently, gesturing to the immaculate dining hall. “Just a few minor comforts added here and there. Not all of us enjoy sleeping in the dirt every night.”

“And the repairs to the outer walls, and the barracks, and whatever you’ve been doing down in the dungeons?”

Ishari continued smiling, though it did not quite reach his eyes this time. “Oh, you’ve noticed all of that, did you? They are simply cosmetic changes, I assure you. I have been given charge of the palace, after all, and the king has yet to challenge any of my improvements. Now that he’s back, I just may bring up some ideas I had for the city.”

Kira pushed back her seat and stood. “My father has brought us back to the old ways for a reason, uncle. It was our love of such ‘comforts’ as you call them that left us cowering in our cities while Ssvalith burned the forest around them. You’ve done an admirable job of leading in his absence, but now that he has returned you’d best remember who the tribes look to as their leader. Now, if you will excuse me, I have lost my appetite.”

Kira left the dining hall and headed upstairs. Aerwyn took the opportunity to excuse himself as well, leaving only Alex, Edmund, Autumn, and Riley alone with the other elves.

“What was all that about?” Alex whispered to Edmund, who shrugged.

“I don’t know. The chancellor seems perfectly reasonable. These elves could use some civilization and culture, if you ask me.”

Once again, Edmund whispered loud enough that Alex was sure that the other could hear, and indeed Dumitore and Therihal glared at the gnome as soon as he spoke. The chancellor was at least gracious enough to ignore the gnome’s unintentional insults.

“I apologize if my conversation brought any unpleasantness to our meal,” Ishari said to those remaining at the table. “Perhaps I underestimated the toll recent events had taken on the girl.” He gestured, and a pair of servants approached, their gazes respectfully downcast. “See to the princess’s comfort,” he said, and with a bow they quickly departed.

“I, too, shall retire for the evening. The rest of you can stay and enjoy your meal. If you need anything else simply beckon and one of the servants will assist you. Mr. Haussenfeld, I would enjoy your company for a time before you go to your chambers.”

Riley muttered to himself and hopped out of his seat to follow the chancellor. For a supposed friend of the chancellor, he sure didn’t seem to enjoy talking to the elf very much. The two elf chieftains rose without a word and followed silently behind. Alex waited a few moments until they had left the room and then decided to use this as an opportunity to make his own escape. He had no intention of going back to his room, though. With the chancellor out of the way, now was his chance to find Eyell’s room and finally speak with the elusive king.

Alex went back out into the hallway, trying to find a path that led upstairs where he knew Eyell’s chambers likely were. By now he had a pretty good idea of the castle’s layout, and he only went in circles twice as he made his way upward. The area he was certainly one of the nicer areas of the palace, with none of the damage seen in the lower floors. The grandeur of these corridors made him certain he was on the right track. If Alex were a king, this is definitely where he’d be.

Up ahead, Alex heard voices coming from one of the rooms. At first he thought he may have found Eyell, but one of the speakers was definitely Riley, who didn’t sound very happy. That would make the other voice Ishari, meaning this area contained his rooms, not Eyell’s. He almost turned back to try another way, but remembering Edmund’s suspicions about the pair, Alex decided to put his mind at ease. Sneaking out when he wasn’t supposed to had grown to be his specialty back home, so sneaking up to the door and pushing it open a crack without anyone noticing was no trouble at all.

“…said that I’d get it back!” Riley said, “I brought him, didn’t I?”

“Barely. You almost lost him to the king’s men, and that wouldn’t do at all. I took great risks to send my minions to their camp. The entire plan had to be enacted early.”

“He would have got here anyway,” the gnome replied. “He wanted to come.”

“Yes, but if not for my intervention he would have arrived far ahead of schedule down the main trails and Eyell would have been here to greet him. You were supposed to delay him.”

“I tried, but he scared the goblins off, and then that princess of yours showed him the quickest way through the Mists. What’d you want me to do, fight him myself? That sprite would tear me apart if I tried anything.”

“No matter. The important thing is that he’s here, and the instrument with him. I was afraid that fool Aerwyn would keep it with him. I have made the appropriate adjustments, though it was costlier than I had planned. The decoy should hold until I work up something more convincing.”

“Should?” asked a third voice, likely either Therihal or Dumitore. “We risk much for this alliance, Ishari. Too much to rely on ‘should.’”

“Worry not, my friends,” Ishari assured them. “Soon the tribes shall crown a new king, one who will be eternally grateful to those who supported his ascendance…”

A shadow fell over him. Alex looked back to see a servant standing over him. This one didn’t avert his eyes, but rather looked down at the boy with a cruel smile. The elf’s stare seemed to bore into Alex, chilling him, and that’s when he saw the truth. The servant’s eyes were not the rich vibrant eyes of an elf, but narrow and dark, with a vertical slit of a pupil. The eyes of a snake.

“Excuse me, young master, but this part of the palace is restricted.”

“Uh, this isn’t the way to my room,” Alex said, backing away from the elf. Smooth. “I should…go…now…”

Alex ran back down the hall as fast as he could. The servant watched him go, and then calmly entered the chamber where Ishari sat.

This wasn’t happening. What was Riley talking about? The encounter with the goblins had been his idea? And the servant’s eyes…Alex shuddered. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. He ran down corridor after corridor, trying to find his way back. In his panic he had no idea where he was, though he hoped he was generally on the right track back to his room. He had to find Edmund, had tell him that he had been right.

Everywhere he turned, servants in their red tunics seemed to block his path, forcing him to turn aside. None made an aggressive move, but all stared at him openly with their reptile eyes. How could elves like Aerwyn and Kira not have noticed something like this? Were they in on this too?

Up ahead he saw his room, right as a trio of elves dragged Edmund from the chamber.

“Unhand me! I will speak with your supervisor about this!”

“Edmund!”

Three sets of eyes turned on him, almost overwhelming him with their feelings of dread and despair. Alex didn’t know why he did what he did next. Suddenly, despite the terror, despite the desperate situation, Alex could hear nothing but that mysterious song he had heard ever since he came to the Green, the one that seemed to play on the winds and in the leaves of the trees. He grasped his grandpa’s flute in his hands, not as an instrument, but as a weapon, and with that meager club charged the closest servant.

“Leave him alone!” he screamed, slashing with the flute. The servant’s eyes bulged, and a confused look crossed its face which was suddenly elongating and growing over with scales. A gash appeared across its belly, dripping dark blood. The illusion shattered, it quickly grew into a wyrm as it fell, quite dead. As soon as it hit the floor it immediately began dissolving into a pile of small snakes and lizards which quickly scurried and slithered out of harm’s way.

“Alex?” Edmund asked, slipping from the slack hands of the other two elves. Alex looked down at his own hands, and saw not the flute, but a sword with a wooden blade, seemingly all carved from the same piece of wood. The flowing markings that had decorated the instrument ran along the blade, glowing faintly with a greenish hue.

“To be honest I am surprised by this turn of events as you are,” Edmund said calmly, “but may I suggest you do something before these other two abscond with us?”

The other two servants had cautiously backed away from the blade, but now they drew daggers from their tunics, daggers identical to those wielded by the wyrms they had encountered before, and as a pair they slowly began to advance on the boy.

“Ok, I have a plan.”

Alex took off running, leaving Edmund and the two elves behind as he turned the corner. Edmund smiled dumbly at his would-be captors and then sprang off after the boy, pumping his little legs wildly with the wyrms in close pursuit.

“What’s your plan?” Edmund gasped as he caught up.

“This is my plan!”

“You can’t escape,” said a familiar voice up ahead. Riley stood blocking the hall.

“Well it’s about time you showed up to help,” Edmund said, running up to the other gnome.

“Edmund, no!” Alex warned. “He’s with them!”

It was too late. Riley felled the younger gnome with a single punch, and Edmund crumpled to the ground dazed. The wyrms behind them had caught up, and now they warily approached. Alex gripped his sword like a baseball bat and fended them off with a few wild swings, but knew he had no chance against two of the monsters.

“Just give me the sword, Alex,” Riley said, extending his hand. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Alex looked about, desperate to find a way out. He could probably bowl over the gnome and keep running, but that would leave Edmund behind, and as annoying as the gnome’s questions could be he knew he’d never forgive himself. No, if both of them were to make it out, he’d have to stay and fight. It seemed the only option, but at that moment things got much worse. Alex felt the sword shift in his hand and to his horror realized it had shrunk back down to a useless flute. Alex shrank back as the fake elves grinned and moved in. They dropped their disguises, and in moments towered over Alex as scaly wyrms. Alex sank to his knees, defeated.

Riley looked away as the wyrms went in for the kill. “I’m sorry, Alex. I liked you, I really did, but business is business.”

A small glowing marble floated into the hallway, interposing itself between Alex and his attackers. The wyrms stopped and stared, confusion plain on their inhuman features, but fortunately Alex had seen this type of magic once before. Knowing what was coming, he ducked his head and grabbed Edmund by the collar, shielding his eyes just as the flare spell went off. The wyrms hissed in protest at the blinding flash, and by the time they could see Alex was gone.

Riley sighed heavily as he blinked away the afterimage of the spell. “I’ll go get the chancellor.”

*

“We have to find my father!” Kira yelled, leading the pair into the upper reaches of the palace. Somehow she had found the time to change back into her traveling clothes after dinner, though this set was clean. Her light spells were effective for slowing pursuit, but in running upstairs they had pretty much trapped themselves.

“Shouldn’t there be guards or something around here?” Alex asked.

“All the guards in the palace were chosen by Ishari. All the old ones loyal to my father were either moved to ranger patrols or expelled from the palace’s service altogether.” Kira shook her head. “How could I have been so stupid to not see something like this?”

“It’s not your fault, princess,” Edmund said, between gasps for air. Running was apparently not a normal duty of a gnomish bureaucrat. “There’s magic involved here.”

“But I’m supposed to know magic!” she wailed while proving her point. Another burst of light staggered a snake-eyed elf that had been running towards them from a side hall. “I should have sensed something.”

“Won’t Eyell be able to get us out of here?” Alex asked. He didn’t specify that he intended to go home right then and there, even if he had to turn his new sword on the elf. Of course, the stupid thing remained a flute for the time being. He never could get it to do the same thing twice, it seemed.

“I hope so,” Kira said, heading up another stairwell. “We have to get out and rally the nearby tribes against the palace.”

“Hey, where’s Autumn?” Alex asked. In the excitement of the chase, it had taken him this long to notice the lack of chatter.

“I was hoping she was with you,” Kira said.

Up above, an elf yelled, and the trio ducked to the wall as a guard tumbled down the stone stairs to crash hard into the wall below. The broken creature changed forms into a wyrm, who lay very still.

“Aww, you guys were worried about me!” Autumn fluttered down the stairs and gave Alex a hug. She didn’t seem perturbed at all when Alex shrugged her off, as she was already on her way to Kira’s shoulder. “You really ought to do something about the servants here, Kira. That last one was so rude, he said he was going to eat me, though at first I thought he said ‘eat with me,’ which wouldn’t be so bad except that we just ate dinner, but then his teeth got all sharp and he tried to grab me and so I smacked him one and…hey, you don’t think I hurt him, do you?”

“He’s…he’s fine,” Edmund stammered, looking back as the dead wyrm dissolved into a mass of squirming snakes.

The sprite smiled. “Oh, good. Where’re we going?”

“To see my father,” Kira said, running to a pair of wide doors at the end of the hall.

“But the chancellor said he was busy, and we shouldn’t bother him when he’s busy.” The sprite’s voice turned grave. “‘Autumn, I have important matters to attend to,’ he’ll say, and then shoo me out the window or something, and…”

“Shut up!” Alex yelled. “There’s no way I’m letting him keep me out at a time like this.”

The others seemed a bit taken aback by Alex’s vehemence, but he didn’t let it bother him. He ran ahead through the doors, knowing that in a few moments he could be home and this whole mess would be behind him. The doors slammed open, and across the room looking out the window stood a tall figure in simple brown flowing robes.

“Eyell!” Alex yelled, coming to a stop behind the elf. “You know why I’m here, I know you do! I don’t know why you brought me here, but you’re sending me back right now!”

The elf stood impassive, his back to the boy as though he hadn’t heard him. Alex grabbed him roughly by the arm and spun him around.

“Hey, listen, I…what?”

Starring back at him was perhaps one of the homeliest creatures Alex had seen, a porcine face with beady little eyes and crooked yellow teeth. He backed away, his already fragile state of mind unable to comprehend what was going on.

“Father! You have to help,” Kira started to say as she ran into the room, but at seeing her father she stopped in her tracks.

“I must say, I always pictured Eyell as a more regal looking fellow,” Edmund commented.

“That’s not my father, it’s a…”

“It’s a smelly goblin!” Autumn finished, scrunching her nose. The goblin smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

“I tolds you this wouldn’t work,” grouched a voice from the false Eyell’s waist.

“Bah, shut up, it worked all week,” replied the top half, who was subsequently dumped off the lower goblin’s shoulders.

“Where’s my father?” demanded Kira, towering over the goblins as they wrestled in a tangle of robes on the floor. They continued biting and pinching, ignoring her until she shot a burst of light between the two.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” grumbled the lower goblin, rubbing his eyes.

“We’s just following the chankslors orders, we was,” whined the upper half.

“Where’s the elf king?” Alex growled, hefting up the whining goblin by his oversized robe.

“Don’t eat me!”

“We don’ts know what yer talking ‘bout,” explained the other goblin, lifting himself off the floor. “All we know is the chankslor says we can live in the king’s room for a few days if we wears his clothes and look out the window every nows and again.”

“It was a good gig, it was,” said the first goblin. “Better than working for da Dreaded Plog.”

His companion smacked him on the back of the head. “Speak for yerself. I was in dat robe for days. Next time, I sits on your shoulders.”

“I can’t carry yer fat self, tubby.”

“Who’re you callin’ tubby, lard-o?”

The battle was on, and it was obvious there’d be no further information gained from the pair for some time.

“Well now what am I supposed to do?” Alex said, turning on his companions. “I came all the way here and for what? To see some goblins in a crappy disguise…”

“That was a personal touch,” one of the goblins piped in before the other did an elbow drop on him.

“…and now I’m stuck here!” finished Alex. “I…”

He stopped when he noticed Kira’s shoulders bobbing. The elf was on the verge of tears, her eyes clenched tight.

“Meany,” Autumn accused, sticking out her tongue.

“What?”

“Her father is missing, there’re monsters in her home, and her trusted uncle is trying to kill us all,” Edmund explained patiently. “A little tact would go a long way, you know.”

“Her father is missing? I’m missing! I’m probably on a milk carton by now! I didn’t ask to come here…”

“Yeah you did,” Autumn said.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t wander in on accident like some ogre. You played the flute and opened the Mistgate. You can’t do that unless you wanted in, and ever since you got here it’s been ‘home’ this and ‘I’m a whiner’ that, and I’ve been nice so far because the king said you’d be important but now you made Kira cry and I’ve half a mind to smack you like a did that elf in the hall if you don’t watch yourself. Got it?”

Alex stammered, not knowing how to react. He couldn’t decide which was more shocking: the sprite’s anger or the fact that she had formed a coherent thought. He had wanted to come here? What did that mean? He had wanted to get away at the time, but he had absolutely no desire to go to some crazy forest world his grandpa had made up. Did he?

“That’s enough, Autumn,” Kira said, composing herself. “More wyrms will come soon, and my spells can only slow them down, not stop them. We have to get out.” She walked over to a wall and pressed on one of the stones, causing a section of floor to slide out of place. Dark narrow stairs loomed before them.

“What about those two?” Edmund asked, gesturing to the still fighting goblins.

“Leave them. Knowing goblins, they’ll probably slow Ishari down when he gets here. Let’s go, quickly.” She looked back at Alex, green eyes burning into him. “You can come if you want. I am going to find him.”

She disappeared down the stairs after Edmund and Autumn without looking back. Alex stood still for a moment until the hidden passage began to slide shut. He quickly jumped through, the sliding stone barely missing his head as he followed the others down into darkness.

*

Chapter 7: When Bears Attack!

The little boy sat just outside the room, playing the new handheld game his parents had bought for him. He was happy to miss a day of school to come see the doctor, especially when he wasn’t even sick, but it sure was taking a long time. Occasionally he could hear bits of conversation coming from the room, and even if he didn’t know exactly what his parents were talking about, he knew it was about him.

“We’re…concerned about Alex’s imagination.”

“Well, all boys his age are expected to be creative…”

“It’s not just that, though,” he heard his mother say. “At first it was just play, acting out some stories and fairy tales his grandpa told him, but lately…”

“He’s been sneaking out at night to play in the park,” his father broke in, “and whenever he visits his grandfather he’ll go out alone into the forest without telling anyone, sometimes for hours at a time. He says he is playing with the sprites.”

“Imaginary friends?”

“Yes, but it’s like it’s more than that. He describes them in so much detail, and there’s so many of them. He says they’re like shadows, only they can move on their own.”

“Mmm, interesting.”

“Then there’s the nightmares he’s been having lately,” his mother said. “He wakes up once a week screaming about dragons and snakes, saying he’s not ready to go home. We’ve tried everything, but it just won’t stop. Even the dreams that aren’t nightmares are just so…strange. It can’t be normal.”

“Well, these stories that his grandfather tell him seem to be a common theme in all this. For now, I’d suggest limiting his contact with his grandfather, just for a little while, and also try steering him towards other pursuits. Now, I’d like to speak with Alex, if I could…”

*

The stairs were long and winding, stretching from Eyell’s upper room to the castle’s basement, and terminating in a series of dark catacombs beneath the structure. For Alex and Edmund’s sake, Kira conjured a less explosive than usual ball of light to illuminate the dank corridors.

“What is this place?” Alex wondered aloud, breaking the still silence of the place.

“You’re not allowed to talk, meany,” Autumn said, but Kira answered anyway.

“We don’t know,” Kira replied. “My people didn’t build this castle, we found it. It was just a convenient land mark for the tribes traveling through the Mists, so we started living in it from time to time. We did manage to find a few secrets out over the years, though, like this passage.”

“So will Ishari and those things be able to follow us?” Alex asked. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder.

“I doubt it. The chancel…Ishari knows much about the castle, but not everything. My father would often leave the palace without telling anyone and passages like this were how he did it. This will lead out into the forest.”

“Why sneak out, though?” Edmund asked. “Eyell is your king; he should be able to go wherever he wants.”

“Yes, wherever he wants: with an entourage of guards, courtesans, foreign diplomats, and wannabe students clamoring around him. He never did feel it was right that any one elf should make all of the decisions for our people, even if it was him. He works hard to keep the tribes united and working together, but he knows that their independence is also a strength. That’s why every now and then he disappears for a week or two, to force the chieftains to make their own decisions.”

“Looks like your dad running out let Ishari take over without anyone noticing,” Alex remarked, prompting more dirty looks from Autumn.

“He hasn’t taken over anything yet,” Kira promised aloud, though the statement was clearly more to herself than to anyone around her. “The tribes won’t give their loyalty to someone just because they control the palace. He might have a few chieftains on his side, but once we spread the word that he has an army of wyrms in there I’m sure even those who aren’t loyal to my father will rally to drive him out. Ishari has to know that, he’s too smart. He has to be up to something else.”

“Well whatever he’s doing, he’s picked a nice time to do it,” Alex said.

Kira turned on him suddenly, the light she conjured suddenly blazing red behind her shoulder.

“Enough! I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience to you, but in case you didn’t notice now is not the time to feel sorry for yourself. If you want to go home, fine, the second I find my father he can toss you in the nearest Mistgate and we can get on with stopping whatever Ishari and your little gnome friend are planning without you.”

“Sounds good to me,” he shot back, not wanting to back down in front of the others. His bravado was met by another glare from Autumn and a groan from Edmund.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Excuse me.”

“What?” Alex and Kira simultaneously turned to Edmund. The gnome jumped back as if expecting them to assault him.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you discussion, but something rather large has been slithering around behind us for a few minutes now.”

The group turned to see something moving just out of the circle of light. As if sensing that it was being watched, whatever it was backed up into the surrounding darkness.

Alex glared down at the gnome. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“You seemed busy.”

“Leave Eddie alone,” Autumn cried. “It’s not his fault that you don’t ever pay attention to important stuff.”

“So I suppose you saw it, too. What, were you planning on letting it eat us before you warned anyone?”

Autumn turned up her nose. “Maybe one of us.”

“Eddie?” Edmund wondered aloud to himself, but no one was listening to him now.

The slithering sound got closer, to the side this time, defusing the argument before it went any further. Kira willed the light brighter, though what it revealed made them all wish they had never seen it. It was a wyrm from the waist up, but it had no legs. Rather, it slid along on a tail composed of snakes tightly wrapped together, in many places actually meshing together into each other to form the thing’s body. Occasionally one would fall out but quickly slither back into the mass.

Alex felt his stomach turn. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“It’s not fully formed,” Kira gasped as she backed away. As if to prove her point, the wrym’s arm fell off, splitting into four or five snakes before sliding into the mass of the tail. The monster hissed in frustration and began growing a new limb.

“It doesn’t seem too hostile,” Edmund pointed out. “It looks more confused.”

“It’s in pain,” whispered Kira, moving forward.

“What’re you doing?” Alex yelled. “We should try to kill it or get out of here before it pulls itself together.”

Kira walked up to the squirming creature and reached her hand out. The monster hissed and recoiled from her touch, but couldn’t move its misshapen body out of the way fast enough. She closed her eyes and spoke, almost sang, words that Alex’s mind couldn’t quite understand, and the wyrm literally fell apart. The elf quickly stepped out of the way as the snakes, confused and angry, untangled themselves and began to disperse.

Autumn clapped at the display of magic. “Wow! What’d you do?”

“The dark magic that was holding it together wasn’t complete,” she explained, suddenly sounding very tired. “I was able to dispel it.”

“Can you do that to all of them?” Alex asked.

“No, my magic isn’t strong enough to work on one that’s fully formed.” As she said that, the globe of light she had conjured dimmed considerably.

“I bet your daddy could!” Autumn claimed, and Kira managed a weak smile.

“We should move on before more show up,” the gnome suggested and the others agreed.

“But why was it down here?” Alex asked as they walked onward.

“Well, I suppose Ishari couldn’t just sneak an army of wyrms into the palace, even with magical disguises,” Edmund reasoned. “I’m no elf, but I think someone would notice a sudden influx of new guards and servants. He must be making them down here.”

“What?” Alex looked around as if the aforementioned army of wyrms would spring out from the surrounding darkness. “Some escape route! You led us to the monster factory!”

Kira looked back at Alex. “Ishari doesn’t know we’re down here, so it’s still our best chance unless you feel like going back upstairs. We just have to be careful.”

Alex rolled his eyes but walked through the dark tunnels without further protest. Every footstep seemed to echo loudly to him. Well, his and Edmund’s anyway: Autumn flew and Kira seemed to glide over the rough stone floor. She seemed wholly unconcerned with the noise they made, and he belatedly remembered the spell that Kira had used in the forest when they had first met that prevented sound from traveling. Luckily it didn’t seem to work the other way around; several times she stopped and doused the light, though Alex never heard anything except his own breathing and dripping water. Apparently what he had been told by his grandpa about elf senses held up to reality.

The hours dragged on, and still the tunnels continued. The stonework changed as they went on, the older weathered stone giving way to new but less skillfully crafted corridors. The occasional torch burned on the walls, providing enough light for Kira to turn off her light spell. Rooms lined these halls, sealed off with doors of freshly cut wood that still dripped with sap. Whoever had made this section of the catacombs had done so in a hurry, and looking through one of the doors that was open a crack Alex could see why. Each room was a barracks lined with crude beds, each filled with completed wyrms. All were in their true form, without any magical disguise, and fortunately most appeared to be sleeping at the time. It actually brought some measure of comfort to know that the things did sleep. Alex silently thanked Kira’s silence spell and moved past the door as quickly as possible.

It was several more nerve-wracking minutes before they passed all the rooms. If each was as full as the one Alex had looked into, there would have to be hundreds of the things stored down here. Edmund had been right: those disguised as elves up on the surface represented just a fraction of the true force.

“I think we’re almost to the right tunnel that leads out,” Kira whispered.

“What’d you mean ‘you think’?” Alex asked. “I thought you knew the way out.”

“This is the way,” she affirmed, though whether her confidence was born of knowledge or simple spite for Alex’s complaining, he didn’t know. As they went on the occasional group of snakes or lizards began to slink by from the outside forest, drawn in by some dark force to become bodies for Ishari’s minions. The thought was horrifying, but at least it let them know they were indeed heading in the right direction.

Over time the dank air grew lighter, and a breeze could be felt. After what seemed to Alex like days in the dark, the tunnel opened into a narrow natural cave that opened into the Mists. It was already night, though the moonlight shining down through the trees was like the sun compared to what they had left behind.

“Finally!” Alex proclaimed. That’s when he noticed the elf standing guard by the tunnel exit. It quickly turned in surprise, elven eyes flashing reptilian for a moment before changing back.

“By the way, there’s a guard,” Edmund pointed out as the wyrm drew its sword and approached.

“Really?” came Alex’s sarcastic response. He pulled out the flute, hoping he could get it to change into a sword again, but it refused to obey his whim, forcing him to awkwardly dive to the side as the false elf lunged.

“Alex, what’re you doing? Get back!” Kira yelled. She sang a few notes in the strange language Alex was beginning to recognize as spellcasting, and a burst of light exploded next to the elf’s head. It saw the attack coming, though, and managed to shield its eyes before it was blinded. Enraged, the wyrm lost its disguise and ran at Kira. Alex watched helpless as he stood, sure that she couldn’t possibly cast another spell in time.

She wouldn’t have to, though. Autumn swooped in, grabbing hold of the sword as it descended and actually pushing it back up along the same arc. The wyrm hissed and with a flick tossed the sprite away, giving Alex time to close the distance. He felt the flute move in his hand, and laughed grimly as he realized that it had become a weapon again. He caught the wyrm by surprise, scoring a cut across its back. It staggered to its knees, unable to recover before Kira laid her hands on it and dispelled the dark energy binding it together. Within seconds all that the wyrm had been slithered back out into the forest.

“I thought you said you couldn’t do that,” Alex started to point out, but he stopped as Kira swayed on her feet. He caught her before she fell, and after a few deep breaths managed to steady herself.

“I figured I would take a chance since it was wounded,” she explained. She looked down at the sword Alex still held. “That sword: where did you get it?”

“It’s just my flute,” he answered, “the one my grandpa gave me.” Just saying it aloud made Alex realize how impossible that sounded, but sure enough as he spoke it shrank back to its usual benign form.

Kira looked skeptical. “It appears to be elven. Your grandfather gave it to you?”

“Ah, and that would be none other than Alexander Samuels, right Alex?” Edmund chimed in. Alex wished he still had the sword so he could stab him.

Kira’s eyes widened. “He was your grandfather?”

“It’s not like it’s a big deal,” Alex mumbled.

“It’s a very big deal. Why didn’t you say anything earlier? Do you even know who your grandfather is?” Kira asked. “Alexander Samuels was the hero of prophecy, foretold by the sage Kezerik himself. He was the one chosen to wield the Sword of Oaks, the man who found the Trollblood Stone and turned the whole war around. He was said to be the one who would to kill Ssvalith and…”

“But he failed,” Alex said bluntly. “The dragon is still out there somewhere.”

“Well, yes,” the elf said. “The prophecy didn’t come to pass as it was written. The Sword of Oaks was lost in the final battle, and with it, the only weapon with the power to slay Ssvalith.”

“Yeah, so what you’re saying is that my grandpa messed up. You say I don’t really know him, but I know exactly who he is. He’s a goofy old man who tells children’s stories, nothing else. He’s no hero, and this so-called prophecy of yours proves it.”

“But don’t you see,” Kira tried to explain, “the flute you possess and the sword must be connected somehow. The Sword of Oaks isn’t entirely lost! If Ishari has suddenly gained the power to create wyrms, it could only mean Ssvalith has returned. That’s why my father brought you here, to bring the sword back to us! It all makes sense!”

“Whatever,” Alex said, shoving the instrument back into his belt. “When I go home you can keep it.” Alex walked over to a nearby mossy rock and lay down.

“You don’t even care, do you?” she asked. When Alex didn’t answer she began walking off into the forest. “We have to keep going,” Kira said, not stopping as she walked further into the forest. “We still have to find my…”

Alex groaned and cradled his head in his hands. “I know, I know, but what’re we going to do, just wander around the woods until he shows up? I’m tired and I’m not walking anymore.”

“We’re going back to the palace first. I know there are several ranger patrols in the area, and I have to warn them of what Ishari is doing. You can stay here if you want,” Kira said. Her voice remained even but from the way she was looking at him Alex briefly wondered if she had a spell to shoot ice out of her eyes. He was grateful when Edmund spoke up.

“I actually agree with Alex,” he said, and Alex smirked in triumph. “We do need rest, especially you, princess. Whatever Ishari is planning won’t happen any faster or slower than it already is now that he’s made his move, and it wouldn’t do at all for us to get caught just because we’re too tired to notice a trap when we see it. That being said, I say we need to at least get away from this cave before we stop. I’d hate to have any of those monstrosities coming out of there while we slept.”

It only took Alex a second of looking into the pitch black tunnel for the smirk to melt off his face. Maybe he could go little further tonight.

*

Things didn’t look much better in the morning light. The night had been miserable, as all of the food and camping gear had been left behind at the castle. The Mists lived up to its name, as everyone was practically drenched from the morning dew by the time they woke up, those who had slept at all. Only Autumn seemed unaffected, though her usually cheery demeanor was spoiled by the rude looks she kept directing towards Alex.

They wandered in the forest for hours, following Kira along the path back to the palace. The rest of the group would have to take her word for it, as the tangled paths and dense fog made it impossible to keep one’s bearings. In time, though, the surrounding forest grew more familiar, or at least Alex liked to believe it did.

“We’re close,” Kira whispered.

“Why are you whispering,” Alex asked aloud, and he immediately got his answer. An elf Alex had not seen before stood just a few yards away, hidden against a tree trunk by the dark green cloak of a ranger. He hadn’t noticed the party’s passing, but when he heard the conversation he quickly darted off.

“That isn’t good,” Autumn said. Kira just shook her head. Within moments they were surrounded, rangers materializing from the mist like ghosts.

“You would do well to make less noise,” said a familiar voice. Aerwyn stepped forward. He was still wounded, but seemed to be managing fine without a crutch.

“Aerwyn! I have to tell…” Kira started to say, but the lieutenant held up his hand.

“I know. I came here to warn you. The chancellor has issued a proclamation stating that the human and his gnome accomplice have kidnapped you. They are both to be shot on sight and you are to be taken back to the palace immediately. You are quite fortunate that I was able to find you first.”

“But my uncle, he’s…”

Again Aerwyn stopped her before she could speak. “You have to leave the Mists. We’ll do what we can to spread the word to the other rangers patrols, those that have not been compromised, and attempt to rally the tribes. That will take time, though, and until then you are all in danger. Ishari seeks to rule over our people in your father’s place, and he already has secretly gained the backing of several tribe leaders. You have to find the king. You have to help him and bring him back before war breaks out among the elves.”

“What do you mean help him?” Kira asked. “Is he in danger? Do you know something?”

“I wish I could tell you more. Just know that your father saw this coming, and he did what he could to prepare.” He turned his gaze to Alex. “Protect her. I leave her in your hands.”

The elves disappeared one by one back into the fog, leaving the four guessing about what was going on.

“Well, let’s get going,” Edmund said matter-of-factly, turning back the way they had come.

“But all of our stuff is in the palace, and…” Alex stopped himself, realizing how hopeless it all was. “Where do we go, now?”

Kira just stood there, and if she even heard the question, she didn’t respond.

“I know where we can go!” Autumn exclaimed before clamping a hand over her own mouth. “We can go to the Spritewood,” she finished, trying to stay quiet. “My daddy will know what to do.”

Kira snapped out of her melancholy. “Of course!” she said quietly. “If anyone knows anything about my father, Autumnus would. Why didn’t I think to ask him sooner?”

“Well, I always did consider myself the thinker between the two of us, like that time I had that idea to let all the rheas out of the stables…”

“Let’s get moving,” Kira said, some of her enthusiasm returned by the new plan. “It’s only two or three days to the Spritewood from here.”

“Two or three days?” Alex laughed. “We don’t have any food, there are elves with bows looking to shoot me…”

“And me,” reminded Edmund.

“…but don’t worry, because ‘it’s only two or three days’ to get there. How do we know this isn’t all just a waste of time?”

“How do you know it’s not?” Kira shot back. “You aren’t from here. Do you even know who Autumnus is?”

“No, but…wait, I do know! He’s the king of the wood sprites! Ha! My grandpa told me.”

“Then you should know that he can help us.”

“Hey, if Autumnus is a king, that makes Autumn royalty, too,” observed Edmund. He gave an elegant bow to the sprite, which sent her into a fit of giggling.

Alex threw up his hands at the spectacle. “Of course she’s a princess. Every girl is a princess because this whole place is a fairy tale.”

“Fairies don’t have tails,” Autumn said, but by then Alex had already stomped off away from the group. He was supposed to be home by now. No, he was never supposed to come here in the first place. It was his grandpa’s fault anyway, his grandpa who gave him the flute, who didn’t kill the dragon like he said he did, who let him believe it was all just a story without warning him of how dangerous it was.

Not that he would have believed any warning even if he had listened. He hadn’t listened about the shadows, either. Alex sat down on a log overlooking a creek bed, watching the mist roll off the trickle of water running through it. He had never listened, not since he was young. His grandpa had tried to tell him about this place, even hinted at bringing him here once or twice. The old man knew everything about this place, and he shut it out, and why? Because it was kid stuff? Well it was obvious that wasn’t true. Children’s stories didn’t have snake people that tried to gut you with daggers. Alex pulled the flute out of his belt, running his fingers over the swirls and squiggly lines carved along it. For the first time he wondered if they meant anything, but decided it didn’t really matter all that much even if they did.

“Some present,” he said to himself. He sat for a moment, and in the silence he heard music playing far off in the distance. On a whim, he brought the instrument to his lips and tried to play along, and he was surprised at how easily it came to him. He missed a few notes, and squeaked out a few more, but for a kid who never really liked music class, he wasn’t bad.

“How do you know that song,” Kira asked behind him, and Alex jumped. It took some frantic juggling to keep from dropping the flute into the creek below.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I think I heard it when I was a kid, and I swear I hear it every once in a while here, but no one else does.”

“I see,” she said, but she elaborated no more. “It is a pretty song. You should try playing it more often.” She sat down next to him, looking down into the water, and for a long time neither of them said anything.

“What is he like?” Kira asked after while.

“Huh?”

“Alexander, your grandfather,” she clarified. “I’ve heard a lot about him from my father, but you’ve actually met him. What’s he like?”

“I dunno,” Alex mumbled. “He’s…grandpa. He eats too much junk food and somehow stays skinnier than anyone in the family. He hums and whistles some song to himself all the time, and he spends as much time as he can telling fairy tales to any kid who’ll listen.”

“Fairy tales?”

“You know, stories about this place. I used to love them when I was little, even if they were a little cheesy. There was ‘Hoblin and the Ogre,’ ‘The Fountains of Levash,’ ‘Grimstank the Troll,’ ‘Mr. VonHalderson’s Plan,’ something about sylph, I forget the title…and of course the one where he kills Ssvalith. I always used to think my grandpa was a hero, and part of me always wanted to believe the stories were true, even when I got older. It’s stupid.”

“But they are true,” Kira said, laying a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I heard the same stories from my father. Of course, he didn’t give them titles or anything but it all happened just like you were told.”

“Really? Then why is Ssvalith still alive and sending monsters to kill me? Even if all the rest of it is true, why would he lie to me about that?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to lie. Alexander was a hero, no matter what some people say, and when you get home you can ask him yourself. Listen, I know you’re scared, and tired. I am too. But we have to work together, for both our sakes, if either of us wants to go home. Something is happening; something bigger than both of us, and whatever it is involves you somehow. I don’t even like to think about it, but if Ssvalith has returned this could get even more dangerous before it’s over.”

Alex didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Was the dragon really that scary?” he finally asked.

“I’ve studied your world’s histories, you know,” she replied. “Some books were salvaged from New Odyssey after Ssvalith...anyway, I read that your world was once similar to ours, in a way, until your people were betrayed by a serpent. Our worlds are really more alike than you think. We’re just fortunate that our serpent is not as subtle, but at the same time that means Ssvalith is much more open to using brute force. The wyrms we saw in the catacombs were nothing compared to the armies he raised against us. They spared no one, and even after their master disappeared it was decades before they were defeated. Only recently did we believe the last of the wyrms were wiped out, and many of my people were lost in that final battle. My mother…” She stopped, unable to go on.

Alex bowed his head. “You’re right,” he said, though he hated to admit it.

“About what?”

“Everything. You’ve been trying to help me all along, and here I am being a jerk. I know I’ve been a…”

“Meany? Weasel-brain? Stupid head? Well, which is it? I’d say all of the above, though maybe not all at the same time…”

“Do you ever stop talking?” he yelled at Autumn, who had settled on a branch overhead. He turned back to Kira, who was smiling at him. “I…”

“No need to apologize,” she said, standing up. “Now come on. We’ve got a lot of walking ahead of us.” She reached out a hand to the boy. He grasped it and stood, and the journey continued.

*

Alex wondered if he’d ever have a day in which he didn’t walk for miles through the wilderness. It wasn’t even a hardship anymore, more like a constant, like air or gravity, something that just was. Wake up, eat whatever meager berries or fruit that Autumn seemed to have a talent for finding, walk until nightfall, collapse onto the ground until morning. They made good time with Kira guiding them, and whether by luck or Aerwyn’s unseen help they saw no signs of pursuit. With the inconsistent way time seemed to flow in the Green, it felt at times as if they’d been walking for a week or more. Alex once mentioned the phenomenon to the others, but when it became clear they had no idea what he was talking about he carried on mostly in silence.

Unfortunately, Autumn didn’t. Now that she was returning to her home she rattled on even more than usual, to the point that even Kira looked like she was ready to toss a sack over the sprite’s head and toss her up a tree. A few times she cast the her silence spell on Autumn, but the flighty creature just kept silently mouthing words until the effect wore off.

It was a learning opportunity, in a way. Alex learned more about sprites and the Spritewood than he had ever heard from his grandpa’s stories. Not that such information seemed useful, but it was somewhat interesting that Autumn had one hundred and forty one sisters (she was the youngest), or that winter never seemed to touch the Spritewood. It was clear by now that even if all went well Alex would be stuck here for some time, so he tried to accept it and make the most of it all. If he could learn his way around, he just might survive all this and get home safely.

It was morning on the third day that Alex first saw the bear tracks. The Mists had given way to brighter, more open woodlands where the sun shone strong through the treetops, making the trail hot and muggy and making each mile torture. Edmund even unbuttoned the top button of his suit, apologizing profusely about the indecency of it as he did so. Kira urged them on, reminding that pursuit could still be close behind, but Alex took rest stops more and more frequently as noon approached.

“Come on, Alex,” Kira urged as Alex once again stopped and knelt down to rest. “Even Edmund is keeping up better than you.”

“Well, if I must say, I believe I am becoming quite the hiker,” the gnome said, sucking in his gut and puffing out his chest. “Why, in all this outdoors-iness, I think I may actually grow a beard.”

“I’m not resting,” Alex protested. “And you don’t have any more of a beard than I do,” he added just to watch Edmund deflate. Something had caught his eye as he walked. It was a paw print the size of his head, with obvious long claws that left furrows in the ground. “What is it?” he asked when the others gathered around.

“A bear,” Kira said, not sounding too happy about it. “And it’s a big one, too.”

Alex stood. “Oh, it’s just a bear?” he asked, and he was surprised to find himself a little disappointed. “With all the crazy monsters and stuff you have here, I was hoping for something more exciting.”

Edmund did not share the sentiment, but rather looked as nervous as the elf. “It could be the same bear that Alex and I saw the night we met you, princess, and likely the same one that attacked the chancellor and his guards.”

“Hey, maybe if he attacked the bad guys he can be on our side!” Autumn said.

“Or maybe we could avoid it altogether and stay out of its way,” Alex said, and the more sensible members of the party nodded.

Avoiding the bear proved difficult. As they went they saw more and more tracks that went in both directions, as if the animal was crisscrossing the road looking for something. Kira confirmed that they were fresh, but couldn’t explain the erratic behavior.

“It’s like the bear is…patrolling,” she said uncertainly.

“Well, that would explain the lack of wildlife we’ve seen along the way,” Edmund said. “Having a bear moving around so much would have scared everything else off. At least that means no dealing with goblins.”

“Goblins stay away from this part of the forest, anyway,” Kira said offhand as she rose from the latest set of paw prints. “I say we turn back and find another way unless we want to meet this bear ourselves.”

“But isn’t this the quickest path to the Spritewood?” Alex protested. “I know it’s a little dangerous to keep going, but if we go back we might run into more wyrms or homicidal elves. I say we keep going.”

“Yes, that would be wise.”

Alex jumped at the unfamiliar voice, and turned to see an elf coming out of the undergrowth to his right.

“Yes, the Mists you left behind have become a dangerous place,” said another elf, dropping out of a tree behind the group.

“You know these people?” Alex whispered so that Kira could hear him. She shook her head.

“No. They’re not rangers, though, so maybe they’re not after you,” she replied quietly. “Let me talk to them.”

“I am Kira’sevvet’alatiri of the Forest Song, daughter of Eyell,” she pronounced, suddenly seeming quite regal despite having just slogged through catacombs and spending three nights in the forest. “State your business here.”

“Princess, it is you! Thank goodness we found you,” the first elf said. “We’ve been looking for you for days, now.”

“You’re father sent us with news,” the other said, moving closer.

Kira stood firm, but there was no disguising the hope that shone on her face. “News? From my father?”

“Yes, princess. He knows of the turmoil at the palace and has sent his minions in all directions to find you and bring you to him.”

Minions? Alex had never met Eyell, but from Kira’s descriptions and his grandpa’s stories, something told Alex that Eyell wasn’t the type to have ‘minions.’

“Come with us,” the second elf bade, almost within arm’s reach of Kira. “The king has set up a stronghold north of here, so that he can gather the tribes and…hurk!”

“Hurk?” Autumn asked.

“Alex, what are you doing?” Kira yelled at Alex, who was pulling his sword out of the elf’s back as it slumped to its knees. He hadn’t even realized that it had transformed again, didn’t even know what he was doing until he had attacked. He could hear the song playing again, not quietly as if from a distance, but clearly, from all around.

“These aren’t elves,” Alex said confidently. He tried not to look at the bleeding elf writhing on the ground in front of him in fear that he was wrong, but something in the song told him he was right. Even as he spoke, the elf shifted into a wyrm and began breaking apart into the small reptiles that formed its body.

Kira gasped and tried to back away from the other elf, but with unnatural speed it darted forward and grasped her by the wrist. Its other hand drew out a dagger, which it held to the princess’s throat.

“Ssstay where you are!” it hissed. The creature still looked like an elf, but its teeth became jagged and its eyes changed to those of a snake. “The chancellor has been looking for you for a long time, Alexander. It was rude of you to leave the palace so sssoon, but now that I found you, you can accompany me back.”

“Let her go!” Alex said, holding his sword between himself and the snake. He was trembling, so much so that he feared he would drop the sword.

“The girl doesn’t have to get hurt,” the thing said, slowly drawing the blade across Kira’s throat so that the blade barely touched skin. The princess didn’t flinch, not even when the dagger drew a thin line of blood.

“Kira!” Autumn cried, but Edmund held her back before she could dart in to try to save her friend.

“What does he want with me?” Alex asked, trying to sound as calm and confident as he had a moment ago. The song wavered in his head, and he swore he could feel the wooden hilt of his weapon shift in his hand. Alex growled and willed the weapon to stay in its current form.

“The chancellor and your grandfather share a mutual acquaintance, Alexander.” Alex shuddered when it said his name, and the monster laughed. “Drop your sword, and you can talk to him yourself. I’m sssure you have questionsss.”

“Don’t listen to him, Alex,” Kira said softly. “You have to run.”

“Sssilence, girl!” the wyrm yelled, bringing the dagger up against her throat.

“Kira!”

“Alex! Run!”

The wyrm jerked suddenly and flew to the side as something slammed into it. Kira dropped to the ground, her hand darting to the shallow cut along her throat.

“Kira, behind you!” Alex called out. She turned, seeing a massive bear standing on its hind legs towering over her.

“Father?” she whispered, not backing away.

It looked down at her for a second, and then dropped to all fours and shambled over to where the wyrm struggled to stand back up. It dropped its elf-disguise and hissed as the giant animal approached, but that was all it could do as the bear began to maul the unfortunate creature. Within moments all that was left were scattered snakes and lizards desperately trying to escape the enraged beast.

Alex ran over to Kira and helped her up as the bear finished its grizzly task. He silently cursed as his sword shrank back into a flute, robbing him of his only weapon, though he did wonder what kind of defense even a magic sword would be against such a creature.

“Come on,” he said, dragging her behind, “before it notices us!”

“Let me go!” Kira yelled. She struggled against Alex as he tried to lead her away. Autumn, finally escaping her gnome captor, flew in and bit Alex on the hand. Alex lost his grip on the elf and she went running over to where the bear shuffled around what was left of the wyrm.

“What’re you doing?” he yelled at Autumn. “That thing will kill her!”

“You really are a dummy, sometimes,” the sprite accused. “Look.”

Alex turned to see Kira standing mere inches from the bear, which crept forward to snuffle at her. With a laugh she threw her arms around the bear’s thick neck and began crying into its fur.

“Well, that is different,” commented Edmund.

The bear turned to look directly at Alex, its gaze unusually intent for a wild animal. It had green eyes the exact same shade as Kira’s. Something fell into place in Alex’s mind. “I don’t…wait…the bear?” he asked Autumn, who smiled and nodded triumphantly.

“His majesty, Eyell’sevvet’alatiri’eternus, Lord of the Mists, King of the Elves,” proclaimed the sprite.

*

Chapter 8: The Mistgate

“What do you mean you don’t want to hear a story? Who are you, and what have you done with my grandson?” The little boy looked confused at the statement, but continued to shake his head.

“Momma and daddy said I’m not supposed to listen to your stories anymore. The doctor said they could further my delusions and possibly warp my fragile underdeveloped psyche.” He stumbled over much of the sentence, no doubt a quote from the psychiatrist himself, but even so the boy remained defiant.

His grandpa knew that he had been defeated. “Alright, I give up. I guess I’ll just go sit down in my chair here and tell myself a story then. You don’ have to listen if you don’t want to.”

He sat and started talking to himself (loud enough for the boy to hear, of course).

“Grandpa, did I ever tell you all about the sprites?”

“No,” he answered himself, “but I sure would like to hear about them.”

“Well, sprites are like beautiful little winged children who never grow up. Everywhere you go in the Green, wherever you find a place of beauty and sunshine, you’re sure to find a sprite nearby. They come in all sorts of varieties from wind sprites to water sprites and probably even lemon-lime sprites, each with their own special qualities.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the old man saw his grandson fight a brief internal war between what his parents had told him and his desire to listen to the story, the emotions plain and exaggerated on his young face. The debate didn’t last long, and soon he sat down on the floor in front of the chair. The story continued with barely a pause.

“My favorites were the wood sprites. They were only as high as my knee (and that was the really tall ones), and their wings were shaped like the leaves of an oak tree. I’ll never forget the first time I saw them, playing games and dancing in the meadows that filled the open areas of the forest. Even with a horrible dragon threatening the Green they were at play, with never a care in the world.”

“They dwelt in the sunny Spritewood just north of the dreadful swamp, the Gobbledymuck. There they lived under the rule of wise Autumnus, an ancient king full of mirth and merriment. The time I spent there in his woods remains perhaps my fondest memory of those dark times…”

*

“So…” Alex said for the tenth time. “He’s a bear.”

“I never would have imagined,” Edmund agreed, taking notes on his pad as he walked. “To think that the elven tribes were united and ruled over by a bear for almost two hundred years…”

“Do we have to go over this again?” Kira asked, walking alongside her father. Autumn had taken to riding between his shoulders.

“Yes, I think we do,” Alex said.

“…must have a great PR department…”

Kira sighed. “My father has powers beyond most elves, stemming from the forest itself. The ability to take the form of an animal is just one of the gifts the Green has bestowed upon him, though he doesn’t do it often.”

“…how does he sign documents? Oh, maybe that’s what the chancellor was for…”

The bear growled at Edmund’s muttering mention of the chancellor, startling him out of his note-taking and causing him to drop his notepad on the ground.

“So, why doesn’t he just change back?” Alex asked.

Kira looked uncertain, but then smiled. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll turn back any moment now, now that we’re safe.”

The bear grunted and shook, and Autumn’s antennae twitched in response. “Oh, really?” she said aloud. Eyell snorted, and Autumn shook her head. “Well that isn’t good.”

“You can talk to him?” Alex asked.

“Anyone can talk to him. It’s him talking back that’s hard,” Autumn said, patting the elf king’s furry back.

“What’s he saying?” Kira asked.

“He’s stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Yep, stuck.”

“I don’t understand,” Kira said, turning to look Eyell in the face. “You could always change back before.” His only reply was another grunt.

Alex didn’t like where this was going. “Well, how do we fix him?” he asked, fearing the answer would be anything but convenient.

“He can’t say,” Autumn said. “Bears aren’t much for talking. Now if he had turned into a squirrel, we’d be much better off.”

“Of course.”

“I bet Ishari is behind this,” said Edmund, now a safe distance from Eyell. Even so, he jumped when the bear growled again.

“The important thing is that he’s safe,” Kira said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation. “Our plans haven’t changed. We’ll make for the Spritewood and take my father to Autumnus. He’ll know what to do.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Alex asked aloud before really thinking it through. Kira’s eyes welled up, but as usual no tears fell.

“He will,” she said softly. “He has to.”

It was on this somber note that the group entered the Spritewood. If other parts of the Green had been nice, the home of the wood sprites was picturesque. Dappled sunlight came down through the oak trees onto a forest floor of lush grass and an abundance of brightly colored flowers. Song birds chirped and sang, and the tinkling laughter of sprites often sounded in the distance or in the treetops above. It was much more open than other parts of the Green Alex had seen so far, especially after the murky confines of the Mists. The forest was dotted hither and yon with sun-drenched meadows ablaze with wildflowers, and a sparkling clear brook wound its way alongside the trail. Eyell seemed comforted by the pleasant surroundings, walking faster with his head up, and even Edmund seemed to forget about taking notes as he admired the scenery. Alex could see why his grandpa had often spoken of this place whenever he mentioned the Green. Though still aware of the danger behind them, they slept peacefully that night beneath the clear sky.

Within a few hours of waking the next morning, sprites began to congregate around the group. They were wood sprites, with wings shaped like the leaves of an oak, though no other possessed the same shade of gold that Autumn had. The child-like creatures talked excitedly with Autumn and Kira about the latest happenings in the forest, often stopping to stare at Alex before flying off to tell their friends that a human had entered the Spritewood. Soon they had collected a veritable cloud of tiny winged people to escort them on their way.

“Frivolous little things, aren’t they?” Edmund commented, shooing away a few who were trying to pin flowers to his lapel. As he did, another pair made off with his hat as a third deftly replaced it with a wreath of daisies while the gnome walked on, unaware. “I wonder how they ever get any work done.”

“I don’t think sprites really care about work,” Kira said, looking away so the gnome wouldn’t notice that she was holding back laughter.

Autumn tried to look offended. “Hey! I’ve done all kinds of work for your father. It’s not easy keeping Alex in line, you know.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “You? Keep me in line? Sure.”

“I’ve only rescued you like a hundred times since you got here,” the sprite said, prompting ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the surrounding sprites.

“You have not.”

“Have so! I even saved you from the vicious clutches of…the gnomes!” Autumn pointed to Edmund with a dramatic sweep of her hand, drawing a frightened gasp from the sprites which quickly dissolved into giggles as he discovered his new hat.

“She’s got you there,” Kira said so only Alex could hear.

“Where’re we going, anyway,” Alex asked, trying to change the subject.

“To my father’s grove!” Autumn yelled, and the sprites cheered. “He’ll be so happy to see us, too. Daddy is real smart and he knows lots of stuff that could help us, not that I am not a well of knowledge myself but I think that Daddy expresses himself better somehow, and anyway Eyell and him are pals, and bears do like to scratch their backs on trees, so now they’ll get along even better!”

“Huh?” Alex asked.

“You’ll see,” Kira promised.

The sprites led them all to an opening in the forest ringed by a near-perfect circle of trees. Passing through, all eyes immediately were drawn to the massive oak in the center of the clearing. It was an ancient thing, with a gnarled trunk as big around as a small house and branches that seemed to touch the sky. Alex had seen a lot of trees since coming to the Green, but the sheer colossal stature of this one was beyond words. Its canopy was so broad that it shaded the entire clearing, which, combined with the living wall of trees around the area, gave the entire grove an indoors feel. Sprites by the hundreds sat in the oak’s branches, singing, eating, sleeping, and playing.

“Daddy!” Autumn said, flying from her perch on Eyell’s back to give the tree a hug.

Kira gave a curtsy to the tree. “Alex, meet his royal majesty, Autumnus, King of the Spritewood.”

Alex thought it fit to state the obvious. “It’s a tree.”

“Well of course he’s a tree,” one of the nearby sprites said.

“Where do you think wood sprites come from?”

“Humans aren’t very smart, are they?”

“Settle, my children,” came a low rumbling that vibrated through the entire clearing. Wood creaked and protested along the thick trunk of the tree as a rough outline of a face formed. Eyes, if orbs of smooth wood could be called eyes, opened wide, scrutinizing the group. “You should be civil to our guests.”

“Yes, daddy,” came the chorus from every last one of the sprites filling the clearing.

Alex didn’t know that his jaw had dropped until a nearby sprite took it upon herself to lift it back up. His grandpa had apparently omitted a few facts about the tiny people, and their king especially.

The face of Autumnus strained forward, looking over Alex with blank wooden eyes. “Alexander, is that you? No, you are too young as your people go, but you have his aura about you. Would you be the other Alexander, then?”

“I…I guess so,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

“I’ve spent many years wondering when you would arrive. Your coming has long been foretold, though not the outcome as of yet. Why, and you even have my flute at your belt. I’d recognize that piece of branch anywhere. What brings you to my wood this day, Sword-Bearer?”

“Well…uh, you see, I didn’t mean to come here…to the Green, I mean, and so now I’m trying to go home, so I went to find Eyell…”

“Eyell?” Autumnus interrupted, his the bass of his voice rattling Alex’s teeth. “Ah, yes, Eyell. There you are, my friend. I almost didn’t recognize you like that. Quite an interesting shape you have chosen for yourself, today.” The bear plodded forward and sat down before the tree and stared silently. Autumnus frowned as if some exchange passed between them, and then nodded. “I see. Well, this is a confusing turn of events, indeed. Ishari gave me a different account altogether, did you not?”

“You’ll have to forgive my liege, mighty Sprite King,” Ishari said, stepping out from behind Autumnus. “In his current state Eyell is confused, irritable. I worried so much when he went missing, but we are fortunate that the princess found him…”

“Traitor!” Kira yelled. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, princess,” the chancellor said, smiling as he approached. “When you went missing I set out at once to find you. I had discovered that the dreadful bear in the Mists was none other than Eyell, but you left before I could tell you. Come back with me, and I will do whatever I can to help him return to normal.”

“You did this to him!”

“Surely you cannot blame me for your father’s current condition. He often warned of the dangers of shape shifting magic. It’s so easy to get lost in a more, shall we say, animalistic state of mind that it can sometimes be difficult to change back, even for one such as he.”

Eyell roared and stood on his hind legs, sending frightened sprites scattering. Kira moved to stand beside him, green eyes flashing as she gathered power.

“Don’t listen to him, Autumnus. Ishari is a traitor, a liar.”

“Princess, what has gotten into you?” Ishari asked with apparent concern. He appeared calm, though his hand did drift to the scars on his face from his previous encounter with Eyell. “You were not like this until…it must be as I feared, Autumnus. This human boy, grandson of the false hero Alexander, has come to spread the lies of Kezerik’s prophecy among our fair land once again. If we are not careful we’ll have a repeat of the War. He’s gotten to Princess Kira, and already it threatens to divide the elven people.”

“What do you mean?” Kira asked.

“Didn’t you know? Already the tribes are divided between those loyal to the kingdom and those who believe the lies you and this human have spread. The chieftains speak of war.”

“Excuse me?” Alex asked, finally gaining the courage to speak. “I don’t know anything about this prophecy everyone keeps talking about, but I haven’t done anything. You’re the one who sent the wyrms after me! You tried to kill me!” He pulled the flute from his belt and held it out towards the chancellor, but it refused to transform into the sword. The sprites gasped and cowered at the mention of wyrms, and Autumnus growled.

“Wyrms? In the Green? Ishari, is this truth?”

“A preposterous notion, I assure you,” the elf said, walking over to Alex. “It is common knowledge that the last of the wyrms were wiped out at the Battle of the Tangles a decade ago. That was the battle in which poor Queen Tiralia was slain, I believe,” he added offhand, just to watch Kira’s face react to the mention of her mother’s death. “You above all would know that the flute young Alexander holds was formed from the remains of the Sword of Oaks, an item taken from your very body. If I were, as they say, working with creatures as foul as wyrms the sword would naturally reform so as to strike me down as an enemy of the Green. But,” he finished, giving the flute a flick, “it does not.”

Autumn flew up to stand on Autumnus’s nose. “But daddy, there are wyrms. I saw them, honest.”

“Not now, Autumn,” the tree scolded, shaking his nose to dislodge the sprite. “This is serious business we discuss. My roots run deep and far: I above any would know if such evil walked the Green, would I not?” Autumn nodded and somberly settled to the ground.

“Of course you would, ancient one,” Ishari said with a bow. “Again, I fear the influence of the human may have even gotten to your daughter, but worry not. I will get to the bottom of all of this. In the meantime, outside the grove I have a group of rangers of the noble Weeping Sky tribe who will gladly assist in returning the king and his daughter to the palace until this mess can be straightened out.”

Autumnus and Ishari locked gazes for a moment. “It will be as you say, chancellor.”

“No!” Kira shouted. “You have to believe us! Ishari is…”

The elf chancellor moved his hands in a series of strange gestures and hissed something unintelligible. It was nothing like the lyrical words of magic Kira often used, but the results were very much the same, as Kira found herself unable to speak.

“Now, there is the matter of the boy,” Ishari said, staring at Alex with malicious glee.

“Ah yes, Alexander,” Autumnus said, blinking as if unable to focus. “I believe I would like to speak with him in private before he is taken into your custody.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Ishari said with a casual wave of his hand. “You are dismissed, your majesty.” The tree looked as if it was going to say something else, but then blinked again and remained silent. Without another word Autumnus’s face sank back into his trunk, leaving only a smooth patch of wood that quickly grew over with rough bark. Ishari gestured, and elves entered the grove from all directions. Kira looked ready to fight, but under the spell of silence she could not say the words necessary to work her magic. Eyell was not so gentle, and several elves went flying before they could get enough ropes around his massive form to bring him down.

It was all happening so fast Alex couldn’t believe what was happening. Eyell, his hope for returning home all this time, was dragged out of the clearing with Kira silently following behind between an armed escort. Autumn sat on the ground crying, pleading with her unresponsive father, while Edmund looked even more helpless and confused than Alex felt. So this is it, he thought. Days of travel, desperate fights, failed plan after failed plan, and now once more firmly in the clutches of the bad guy.

Edmund approached, holding his hat in his hand. “Mr. Samuels,” he began. Even coming from the gnome, Alex was taken aback a bit by the formality. “They said I could go home, back to Ghome. It was a tempting offer, but I’d like you to know that I have decided to stay with you.”

Alex managed a weak laugh. “Am I that interesting of a subject?”

“Yes, but that’s not all of it. You’ve led us well thus far, and now it is plain to me that events are taking place that could have dire consequences, not just for the elven tribes, but maybe for Ghome and all the Green, as well. I feel obligated to see this through.”

“There’s nothing to see through. It’s over.” Seeing the hurt on the Edmund’s face, Alex sighed and knelt down to look the gnome in the eye. “Listen, I’m no leader. I don’t even want to be here. Whatever Ishari is up to, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Go home Edmund. Warn the gnomes or something, maybe it’ll help.”

“What about you?” the gnome asked. “Are you going to let them just take you away?”

“I’ll think of something. I kind of have to.”

A pair of elves came to take Alex. He went without a struggle, not even when Ishari came over to take his flute. Not that it would do him much good, anyway. He had no intention of dying or letting Ishari do whatever else it was he had in store for him, but at this point it seemed the chancellor held the upper hand. For now, he’d just have to be patient. Maybe if he waited he could find an opportunity to make his escape, free Eyell and Kira, transform the elf king back to normal…actually, when he thought it all out it did seem rather hopeless.

Edmund watched the elves lead the others out of the grove. Even if people did call Alexander Samuels the False Hero, he never would have guessed his own grandson would give up so easily without a fight. No, this wouldn’t do at all, but if he were to intervene, he’d need help.

“Miss Autumn?”

“Eddie?” she sniffled.

“Uh, yes. I need to speak with you,” he said, keeping an eye on Autumnus. For now, the sprite king’s face remained hidden within his trunk, and Edmund hoped that meant the tree was unaware. “I have a plan, I think, but I’m going to need your help.”

The sprite wiped the tears from her eyes. “A plan?”

“Well, not really a plan so much, but at least an idea, and if we’re to save Alex and Kira…ugh!” Autumn knocked the gnome over with a tackling hug.

“What’re we waiting for then? Let’s go!”

*

Alex felt he was becoming a pro at being captured. He walked easily down the forest trail out of Spritewood, trying to appear as cooperative as possible while he thought over his escape. His compliance seemed to pay off to an extent, as they didn’t even bind his hands this time. However, he knew that if he tried to run he’d probably make it three steps before a dozen arrows made him a pincushion. These weren’t disguised wyrms, after all, but real elven rangers who carried their bows like they knew how to use them.

Kira was not so lucky. As a known magic user, they not only bound her hands together at the wrist, they also wrapped her hands completely in cloth, preventing any gesturing of any kind. She was also gagged, both to prevent casting and likely to shut her up after Ishari’s silence spell wore off. She had railed at the elves nonstop for betraying her father and siding with Ishari, and even after being gagged her muffled curses continued on for some time.

Eyell brought up the rear in an enclosed wagon, one like what a circus animal might be put in, pulled by a pair of the bird creatures Kira and Autumn had referred to as rheas. Even after untangling himself from the nets, the thick bars of the cage prevented the bear’s escape, and he eventually tired himself out throwing himself up against them. Apparently Ishari had been more than confident that he’d find them all at Autumnus’s grove to bring such a thing, though how he got there ahead of them all with such a lumbering contraption when they had had such a head start was beyond Alex. It only took a few moments of watching how the wagon easily rumbled over obstacles, though, for Alex to suspect some kind of magic was involved. He silently vowed that if he ever found a way to escape, he’d have to make Kira explain magic to him.

“Enjoying the stroll, are we?” Ishari said, and Alex jumped. He could have sworn the elf had been at the front of the procession. Though Ishari’s typical bright red robes were like a beacon against the backdrop of nature, Alex hadn’t seen him coming at all. It was as if the elf had simply appeared behind him.

“Oh, just a little trick of mine,” the chancellor explained as if he had been reading the boy’s thoughts. “Some find it unsettling, but then, it’s good to keep one’s enemies on their toes.”

“And I’m your enemy,” Alex ventured.

“You don’t have to be. This isn’t your fight, young Alexander. It isn’t even your world. Now, I may have been a bit harsh to you when I sent the wyrms into your world, but you must understand my predicament. I have plans, Alexander, big plans, and to hear his majesty Eyell talk all these years one would easily be led to think that you, a descendent of the False Hero, would be trouble. It was his idea to bring you here, not mine, but now that I have met you face to face I see that you are no threat to me.”

Not a threat? Of course he wasn’t a threat to a sorcerous elf lord with an army of wyrms and elves at his disposal. One would have to be a moron to think that a thirteen year old boy would be any kind of obstacle to someone such as Ishari, but Alex thought it best not to voice such an opinion. Instead he asked, “Well, if I’m no threat then why are you doing any of this?”

“Look around you Alex,” Ishari prompted. “What do you see?”

“Uh, trees?” Alex guessed.

“Yes, trees,” Ishari said dryly. “Once this was a great thoroughfare from the city of Sinder’in to the great Shining Tower at Bersalle. The whole of this path was paved with pure white stone imported from the quarries of the Nagrihm, and along its path stood statues of the mightiest elven magi who studied at the Shining Tower as a monument to their greatness. Now all that remains is rubble. A mere six hundred years ago elves ruled this forest in glory and splendor. I was a noble, a prince of a mighty family. I was destined to rule!”

Ishari shook his clenched fist in the air and flourished his robes, the very picture of elven majesty. Then he calmed and hung his head for a moment before continuing. “Now look at us. A commoner who dared to wed my sister, a princess of Sinder’in, calls himself our king and holds court in ruins built by grubby humans. No offense,” he added offhandedly.

“None taken,” Alex muttered.

“We form tribes and skulk about the woods like savages. We have all but lost our mystic arts and exchanged them for weak forest magic. We are hardly fit to be called elves at all. It falls on me to correct this grave injustice, starting with the overthrow of the current monarchy. I had thought you to be an obstacle in my path, but now I see that you are of no concern to me.”

“What’re you saying?” Alex asked.

“I have power, Alexander. My master has seen to that. He gave me the power to remove the elf king from the picture so elegantly, the power to sway the different tribes over to my way of thinking so that the elves might once again form a true kingdom rather than squatting like goblins around the ruins of our ‘palace.’” Ishari’s handsome face twisted in disgust at the thought. “My power was even enough to charm the great Autumnus. Let me use my power to help you now, Alexander. What is it that you want most?”

Despite himself, Alex felt hope rise in him. “You…you can send me home?”

“Easily. I sent wyrms to your world, didn’t I? Like all creatures of the Green they are strongly tied to this world, so it took some time, months even, as your people perceive time. However, you have no such bond. On the contrary, you don’t belong here at all, and so your world pulls at you. It would be simplicity itself to send you back. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“How can I trust you?” Alex asked, trying to gain back some measure of defiance.

“Why shouldn’t you? You don’t know Eyell, except in his current furry state. He has manipulated events for some time now to bring you here, ever since he suspected me of trying to overthrow him. My reaction was purely defensive, you understand. In a way, everything that has happened to you thus far can be traced back to him. Now that I offer you peace, would you throw that away on the false hope that Eyell would send you back even if he were able? How do you know he wouldn’t use you for his own ends? Remember, it was he who used your grandfather and the promises of a fake prophecy to unite the tribes under his rule. It was he who has taken you from your life of ease and plunged you into this trying ordeal. I may have acted rashly, which I am gracious enough to admit, but if you are cooperative there is no need for further violence. Do not feel rushed to answer right away, but know that a Mistgate lies not a day’s march from here. I will await your answer.”

With that, Ishari turned and was gone, fading away to reappear further ahead at the head of the caravan atop a saddled rhea that had been prepared for him. Alex watched him for some time, not knowing what to think. It all made too much sense. Autumn had said several times that Eyell had sent her to find him, that the elf had known when and where he would enter the Green. Was he really just being used as a tool in some elf civil war? Had they really done the same to his grandpa? Maybe the whole prophecy he kept hearing about was just a fraud, just something to get the elves to name Eyell as their king to unite them against their common enemy at the time.

Well, if Eyell wanted his help, the joke was on him. Alex was no hero, not even as much as his grandpa had been. Even if the prophecy, whatever it was, had been a fake, his grandpa had stood up to the dragon. At least he had wounded Ssvalith enough to drive him into hiding for a few centuries. Alex couldn’t even get his sword to work right. Still, looking back at Kira he knew he couldn’t just leave her in Ishari’s hands. He made up his mind. He’d take Ishari’s offer on the condition that Kira go free. It’s not as if she were any more of a threat than he was. From all he could see, the chancellor had already won. She wouldn’t like it, but it was all he could do for her. After he was home, he could put all this behind him and get on with his life.

Couldn’t he? Strangely, the thought of going back to school and playing videogames or hanging out in the park with nothing to do on weekends didn’t seem to appeal to him as much as it had when he had first arrived, not after all that had happened. It all seemed so…mundane. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really liked doing any of those things before he came to the Green, either. All of a sudden he was having a really hard time remembering why he had wanted to go back to his old life so badly.

Alex mentally slapped himself. That was dangerous thinking. Ishari was right: this wasn’t his world and he was better off returning home. It had been his goal for so long now, how could he pass up this chance? His eyes met Kira’s across the distance, and she turned away, as if she somehow already knew his decision. He was going home.

*

It didn’t take long to reach the Mistgate after Alex told Ishari that he had agreed to his plan. He stood before it now, a pair of weathered stone pillars that used to make up an archway. Tumbled rocks were all that remained of the arch itself, though Alex was assured the stonework was merely to mark the gate, and so it did not matter that it had crumbled. Wisps of fog hung about the pillars, and though it was otherwise a warm day near the gate it was chilly enough to raise goose bumps on Alex’s skin.

“So I just walk through?” Alex asked, surprised by the simplicity of it all.

“Of course,” Ishari affirmed. “That is how you entered the Green in the first place, is it not? It will take just a moment for me to open the gate, and then this whole ordeal will be in the past.”

“What about my grandpa’s flute?” Alex asked, and the elf predictably shook his head.

“Now, you understand I can’t let you have that back. Otherwise how am I to know you won’t just reopen the gate from your side and come back through? You did it once before, you know, even if you didn’t know what you were doing. I know it sounds untrusting but it really is the only way I can be sure you’ll hold up your end of our arrangement. Besides, it’s what is best for both parties involved.”

“And Kira won’t be harmed?”

Ishari smiled warmly. “Now, Alex, I’m beginning to think that you don’t trust me. For now she is free to frolic through the Green as our people are wont to do, and in a few months she’ll realize the good I have done for the tribes and return. If it makes you feel better…”

The chancellor gestured, and Kira was brought forward. Her hands were unbound, but the gag remained in place.

“I want to talk with her.”

The chancellor shrugged and one of the princess’s guards untied the gag. Kira spat the thing out and turned to Alex, but she kept her eyes downcast.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered softly. “You were supposed to help us.”

“I’m doing everything I can…” he started, but she looked up at him, green eyes boring into his, and suddenly he couldn’t finish. He wanted to look away, but he forced himself to meet her stare.

“You’re running.”

“But it’s not my problem!” he protested. “I don’t belong here.”

“It wasn’t your grandfather’s problem either, but he stayed. He tried to help us. Even if he didn’t match up to some old prophecy he did his best. He freed us, Alex.”

“I’m not like him.”

“Only because you’re afraid to try.”

The elves led her away at another gesture from Ishari, and they were left alone in front of the Mistgate. Ishari began to chant, not lyrical singing like Kira’s magic, but harsh syllables hissed through clenched teeth. There was a ripping sound and for a moment a hole of blackness, like a ball of nothingness, filled the space between the pillars. The mists rose up to fill the hole, forming a swirling vortex just like the one he had created in his closet just a few weeks ago. Was that all? It seemed almost a lifetime since he had passed through that gate, and now all he had to do was step through this one, and it’d all be over. Ishari smiled and urged him on. He took a step, and tendrils of mist reached out to envelop him.

“Alex!”

He turned to see Kira struggling against one of Ishari’s rangers as another approached with rope to bind her again.

“I knew it was a bad idea to remove the gag,” Ishari lamented. “Couldn’t you fools have waited just one more moment?”

“You said she’d be let go!” Alex yelled, turning away from the Mistgate. “You said she’d be safe!” He tried to run to Kira, but the tendrils of mist held him as surely as if they were chains.

“This doesn’t concern you, boy,” Ishari growled, his warm demeanor suddenly lost. “You try my patience. I will extend my generous offer to let you live one more time. Go through the gate.”

But Alex wasn’t listening to Ishari. Instead, he was looking at the male sprite that was hovering behind the elf, mimicking his every movement with mock seriousness. Alex smiled and the chancellor turned to glance backwards, but the sprite dodged out of the way, giggling as it went.

“Troublesome pests,” he muttered.

Alex continued smiling as he slowly pulled himself away from the gate. “Oh, I don’t think they’re so bad.”

Suddenly the whole clearing around the Mistgate was buzzing with the sound of tiny wings. A swarm of sprites seemingly exploded from the treetops in all directions. They whooped and hollered what they probably thought were intimidating battle cries, though the abundant laughter mixed in surely ruined the effect. The elves were taken unawares, many having their weapons taken before they could react. Those few remaining armed after the initial wave looked hesitant to attack the happy little people as they darted about, settling for fending off those that got too close rather than fighting with any deadly force.

“Idiots!” Ishari roared. “Fight back!”

“But, they’re just sprites,” a nearby ranger pointed out. He held his bow out helplessly, the sprites having already made off with his arrows. “You don’t expect us to kill them, do you?”

“Yes! As your new king, I order you to…oomph!”

Alex broke free of the Mistgate and ran his shoulder into the small of the red-robed elf’s back. Ishari staggered and Alex rushed by, intent on getting to Kira. He didn’t have to, though, as a massive bundle of fur bounded by in front of him. The elves holding the princess captive were smart enough to get out of Eyell’s way before he got there, though one was slow enough to receive a bear-clawed swat to the backside, sending him tumbling head over heels into the dirt.

“Mr. Samuels,” Edmund called from his seat atop Eyell’s cage. Apparently freeing the mightiest of the group was enough battle for him, as he seemed quite content to watch the ‘fight’ play out. Not that it was much of a fight, as the elves seemed unwilling to use any lethal force against the sprites, and even more unwilling to go against the furious elf king. It was a complete route, the rangers choosing escape into the forest from a battle they couldn’t win. Within moments the field was clear, with much of the sprite army giving chase.

“How’d you pull this off, Edmund?” Alex asked, and received his answer in the form of Autumn landing on his head.

“I called in a few favors from my brothers and sisters (and a few hundred cousins), which was pretty easy cause they had nothing going on this afternoon anyway, not until the festival later tonight. No wait, the festival is next week. Tonight was the feast, or was it the dodgeball tournament…anyway, it was Eddie’s idea.”

The gnome blushed. “Well, I did try to think of something a little more effective than last time I tried to rescue you. I couldn’t quite think of a way to work in my owl signal, though.”

Alex nodded, mainly to shake Autumn off. “There’s always next time. Come on, let’s go get Kira and get out of here.”

The shock that slammed him in the back was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He staggered to his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

“Did you forget about me so easily, young Alexander?” Ishari approached slowly, his palm held upright before him. As he spoke, a second ball of magic formed, crackling with barely contained energy. “You should not have spurned my offer.”

Alex tried to scream as the second magical blast rippled through him, but his muscles locked up and he couldn’t even open his mouth.

“Mr. Samuels!” Edmund jumped down from the wagon and rushed forward to help, but was stopped short as a third sphere lifted him off the ground and blasted him backwards several feet. The gnome’s head thumped against a wagon wheel and he didn’t rise.

“You meany!” Autumn yelled, zigzagging up to the chancellor past another of his attacks to punch him squarely in the jaw. The elf’s head snapped back as if a heavyweight boxer had gotten a free hit in and he stumbled back a step, the sphere of energy he held in his hand dissipating into motes of light. Autumn cheered and started to do a midair victory dance, but it was cut short as Ishari dashed forward with surprising quickness to grab her.

“I do so tire of sprites.” A crackle of electricity surrounded his hand for a moment, and he dropped the wood sprite unconscious to the ground. A wave of his hand sent a volley of crackling spheres though the air, exploding all around and either felling or scaring away most of the other sprites that remained.

“Now let’s see,” Ishari said with a thoughtful finger on his lips. “Who am I forgetting?”

He turned just in time to meet a magical burst from Kira. He stopped her spell with an outstretched hand, and then reached out to grab it. “Such a pretty little thing,” he commented, tossing the light sphere back and forth like a toy. “I remember when I taught you to cast these. Those were happier times, weren’t they, my niece? How fortunate it is for me that I never got around to teaching you anything truly dangerous.”

Kira’s sphere grew in the chancellor’s hand and began to spark with the volatile forces it contained. Without even a gesture from Ishari it hurtled itself at Kira. The princess held her hands out wide and managed to conjure a shimmering wall of light to shield herself, but the resulting explosion still threw her back.

“Oh, now this isn’t even a challenge.”

The bear’s roar changed his mind. Eyell came on in a fury, teeth bared. A paw the size of a dinner plate propelled by powerful ursine muscles smashed into the magic barrier the chancellor barely managed to raise in time. From behind that shield, the elf launched attack after attack, the spheres of energy searing Eyell’s flesh and burning great clumps of fur. Ishari began to sweat under the strain of his spellcasting and his shield began to grow thin, but so too did Eyell’s attacks begin to slow as his wounds took their toll.

Alex struggled to stand. Edmund groaned and opened his eyes only to close them again, and Autumn remained still at his feet. Kira was on her knees clutching her head and chanting up another spell. He looked over to the Mistgate, swirling peacefully. It would be so easy to just jump through. He had no place in this fight. Indeed, he found himself taking a halting step over to the portal, but something stopped him. He heard the song again, playing gently on the edges of his thoughts. Even if this wasn’t his place, he knew that he couldn’t leave it like this, not with a villain like Ishari threatening to rise to power. He couldn’t leave his friends.

He moved slowly, sneaking as quietly as possible to get around behind Ishari, counting on Eyell to keep the elf busy. Kira saw him moving, and with a grim look in her eyes cast another sphere of light at her foe as a distraction. It burst near his head, causing him to lose concentration long enough for the elf king to clamp his jaws down on his arm. Ishari yelled, and with a roar sent a jolt of electricity arcing into Eyell far more powerful than what he had used on Autumn. The great bear sighed and fell over, smoke rising from its fur, and Ishari turned his hateful gaze of Kira.

“Nothing…nothing will stop me,” Ishari gasped, one arm hanging limp from his side. The other glowed fiercely with dark energy. “My master has given me more power than you can comprehend. I won’t be beaten by animals, sprites, and children.”

Alex had never been more grateful for having repressive, overprotective parents, or else he never would have mastered the stealth he needed that moment. With the chancellor’s attention fully on Kira, he never once noticed the boy as he reached out and stole his flute back from Ishari’s belt. With the Song of the Green playing easily in his head, the flute grew and shifted into a blade without any effort at all. As Ishari held out his uninjured arm to strike Kira down, Alex struck. It wasn’t a clean blow, or a skillful one, but the magic of the Sword of Oaks was more than enough. It sheared off the elf’s left hand at the wrist, causing the dark energy gathered in it to explode wildly before it could be gathered into a killing bolt. Ishari screamed even more shrilly than when Eyell had bitten him, and with a harsh word of magic vanished from sight.

The field of battle fell quiet, and after several tense moments without the chancellor reappearing, Kira visibly relaxed. She turned to stare at Alex as if seeing him for the first time. “Alex, you did it,” she said quietly. “You saved us.”

“Yeah,” he replied, dumbfounded at his own apparent heroism. “I guess I did.”

Eyell stirred and rose slowly to his feet, moving to snuffle at his daughter who gratefully leaned into his bulk to rest. Edmund sat up, seemingly more concerned with the hole burned into his suit jacket than for any injuries he may have sustained. Alex looked around, but Autumn was nowhere to be found.

“Alex is a hero!” Autumn yelled from atop his head. Alex swatted at her but the nimble creature dodged him, and then set about the area, making sure the other sprites were alright.

“Well, now what?” Alex asked. Both he and Kira looked to the Mistgate swirling quietly off to the side. He didn’t say anything, but she read the expression on his face easily enough.

“It’s all right, Alex. This is what you’ve been looking for. Go home.”

“Are you sure? But before you said…”

“I said you should help us, and you did. You’re every bit the hero your grandfather was. We’ll be fine. The rangers with Ishari saw what happened here. They may have been taken in by him before, but it’s not hard to recognize dark magic when you see it. Practicing such magic is a crime punishable by exile, and Ishari left plenty of witnesses to run back to their tribes to tell what they saw. There’s no way he’ll be able to go back to the palace once word spreads of what happened here, and any chieftains who were backing him will have a lot of explaining to do. They won’t be any more trouble.”

“What about your father?” Alex asked as Eyell plodded over to stand beside the princess.

“We’ll find a way to change him back to normal,” Kira said, her smile much more confident than Alex had seen since he met her. “Maybe I can even undo the curse if I study more. My magic has gotten stronger…”

Kira trailed off and looked over Alex’s shoulder. The boy started to turn, but Kira shoved him roughly out of the way as a bolt of dark magic detonated where he had been standing. The resulting blast threw chunks of dirt and rock, knocking Alex to his knees and sending Kira flying back to the ground to land directly in front of the Mistgate. Immediately tendrils of mist reached out to envelope her, wrapping around her limbs and dragging her inwards.

“Alex…” she groaned weakly, trying to reach out, but the pull of the gate was too much. Alex watched numbly as she was drawn into the swirling mists. In mere seconds she had completely faded away. The mists swirled violently for a moment, and then they dispersed as if they had never been. The gate was closed.

“Well, while I do hate to miss, I suppose I could call that a success.”

Ishari stood not ten feet away. Blood dripped from the bundle of robes he had wrapped around his severed wrist, and he leaned heavily against a tree, but still he smiled triumphantly.

With an effort, Alex stood and brought his sword up, preparing to charge. The elf was wounded, so if he got in close enough he could finish the job.

“Bring her back!” he growled, his voice cracking as he ran. Ishari was chanting something again, another spell, and Alex’s unsteady legs seemed unable to run in a straight line. He arrived too late to stop the spell, but heedless of whatever effect it might have Alex dove forward, blade first, at the chancellor. A white light roared up around both of them, and for a moment it felt as if the world lurched.

*

Alex fell hard to his knees on rough stone, dropping his sword. It clattered to the ground, shrinking back into a flute as it did. Alex quickly snatched it up, irked that it didn’t transform when he did so. Looking around, he first thought he had returned to the underground catacombs beneath the elf palace, but if he had he didn’t recognize anything. The walls here were simply natural cave walls, not worked stone. Wherever he was it was damp and dark, but a red glow suffused the place enough that he immediately spotted Ishari crouched down a few feet away from him. The elf was cradling his wounded arm, sobbing quietly.

“It’s over, Ishari. Sorry your little game didn’t work out, but now it’s time to send me home and bring Kira back.”

The elf’s sobs got louder, and suddenly they didn’t seem so much the crying of a defeated man. In fact, Ishari wasn’t crying at all. He was laughing.

“You shouldn’t have followed me, boy,” Ishari howled, tears streaming down his face. He looked terrified, even as he laughed. He was afraid of something, and it wasn’t Alex. Something shifted behind him, the sound of metal clinking on metal, and Alex dared to take his eyes off Ishari long enough to look. He wished he hadn’t.

It lay like serpent atop a vast golden bed of treasures, black and green scaled coils looping back and forth on each other until the monster’s bulk almost filled the entire cavern floor. Powerful legs curled up casually beneath it, tipped with claws like sword blades. The beast’s wings folded tightly against its back, shining black with lines of grey where old scares had healed. Worst was the head, flat and narrow like a snake, crowned with rows of twisting horns and spikes.

“Alexander…”

The voice was like a thunderstorm inside his mind. He hadn’t realized it, but somehow he was on his knees again, helpless before the palpable evil of the creature which lay before him. The glow which filled the room came from the burning eyes of the monster, eyes which looked down upon Alex as if he were a worm, an insect.

“Welcome to my lair, Alexander Samuels,” the voice boomed in his mind. “I would introduce myself, but I think you already know who I am.”

Ssvalith.

Alex quaked where he sat in a heap on the ground. His mind told him to run, or at least move, but there was something about having a dragon stare you down that made something as simple as movement impossible.

“What is the matter, Alexander?” Ssvalith asked. “You look surprised to see me. Didn’t your grandfather tell you all about me?” He no longer spoke directly into Alex’s mind, but rather with a surprisingly sophisticated baritone voice. Each word he spoke carried something else with it, though, a sound like an echo of something screeching in the distance.

Alex continued to simply stare at Ssvalith as the dragon lowered its head to look at him more closely. He wanted to say something, anything, really, but it was as if all the moisture had drained from his mouth. Besides, what does one say when he knows for sure he’s about to be eaten alive by a dragon?

“Oh, I’m not going to eat you, little boy,” the dragon said, somehow hearing his thoughts. “If you wish to be eaten alive I suggest you give the Dreaded Plog a visit. To be honest, I had hoped to never see another of your kind again. Not after what your grandfather did to me.”

Ssvalith reared back and held wide his front legs, clearly showing the ragged scar that tore through the thick scales of his chest. Ancient as the wound was, it was still raw and pink in places where the scales had never quite grown back. “A parting gift from the last time I faced a human,” he explained with bitterness clear in his voice, “It was the blow that was to fell the dread dragon and liberate the Green from his tyranny and evil.” The dragon laughed; a horrible sound. “He missed. Yet still, it has taken me close to two hundred years to heal from the wound, and now, on the eve of my glorious return, I find yet another human in my forest after I tried so hard to eliminate them all. What do you suppose that means for you, little Alex?”

Alex knew exactly what it meant: he was going to die, here and now, fallen victim to a childhood nightmare brought to life.

“Now is not the time, child,” a voice whispered quietly. “Now is not the place.”

“That’s right, you are going to die,” Ssvalith said casually, again reading the boy’s thoughts as easily as if he was speaking aloud. If he had heard the whisper he made no indication. “I made the mistake last time of not finishing Eyell’s little errand boy when I had the chance, and while I was gracious enough to allow Ishari a chance to send you back where you belong, I feel obligated to act upon this unexpected opportunity. Wouldn’t you agree, Ishari?”

Even in the dim red light of Ssvalith’s eyes Ishari looked pale from the loss of blood. He remained on his knees, clutching his wounded arm. “Y-yes, my lord,” he stammered weakly. “An astute assessment. My lord, please, I…”

“Failed me, Ishari?” Ssvalith interrupted. “Yes, you did. I was counting on the elven tribes being divided against each other when I emerged. I promised you the throne, and you promised me civil war, and yet here you are beaten, maimed, and defeated without a single elf fallen. I have little tolerance for failure.”

Ishari struggled to stand, tears streaming down his face at the thought of angering the dread Ssvalith. “Please, have mercy. I wasn’t prepared. The sword…”

“…Serpent’s Bane, Dragon’s fall…” the whisper spoke again before fading into silence.

Ssvalith’s eyes narrowed and he turned his head back to Alex. “Ah yes, the sword. I had hoped we were rid of that little nuisance. How fortunate that the elves’ weapon will not be an issue any longer.”

The flute! Alex still held it, forgotten in his hand. Maybe if he could get it to turn back into the Sword of Oaks he would still stand a chance. The sword decided not to oblige him, though. No matter how hard he willed it to change it remained a simple flute. What was he missing? It had worked without thinking when he had attacked Ishari, and several times when he had to fight wyrms, but now when he needed it to save his life the sword failed him.

“The Sword is willing, but the Bearer is not,” the voice whispered again. “It is the Song that will save the child…”

The Song? Alex understood. Ssvalith reared back, inhaling deeply. The light in his eyes intensified for a moment, a deep burning red, and then the dragon breathed. A torrent of flame rushed out of the dragon’s gaping maw. It enveloped Alex instantly in a fire so intense he couldn’t even be seen within its depths. Ssvalith sustained the flame longer than was likely necessary, but he always was one to be thorough. When the flames finally subsided, where the human child had stood there was nothing but a pool of molten rock.

“W-well played, my lord,” Ishari said, backing away from the residual heat of the attack. Ssvalith said nothing, merely cocking his head to one side. When he spoke, it was not out loud, but as a command into Ishari’s mind.

“Listen.”

Ishari held his breath, his sensitive elven ears immediately picking up on the sound. In the silence following the roar of the fire, a note echoed faintly through the cavern that was Ssvalith’s lair, the sound of a flute in perfect pitch.

“What does it mean, my lord?” Ishari dared to ask. Ssvalith merely chuckled, a strange sound indeed coming from such a monster.

“We have much work to do, my minion. The game has only just begun. But first, hold out your hand.”

Ssvalith was grinning, never a good sign in even the best of situations. The chancellor trembled and held out his right hand.

“The other hand,” the dragon prompted. Ishari shakily unwrapped the crude binding around his severed wrist and held it out. Ssvalith spoke dark words of ancient lore, magic that sprang from the dark places between worlds. The words themselves hurt to listen to, but that was nothing compared to the pain that would follow. Ssvalith had other servants, but this one had yet to outlive his usefulness. The elf had proven to be resourceful from time to time and in his weakened state Ssvalith needed his assistance, at least for a short while longer. The dragon had other allies, ones he would call upon soon.

Finishing with Ishari, the dragon promptly forgot about the elf and turned his expansive mind back to the larger scheme of things. He turned, slithering back upon himself to gaze at his prize possession amongst all his treasures. It was an innocuous crystal prism, small enough to fit into an elf’s hand and seemingly of little value compared to the mounds of gold and gems and mystical artifacts the cavern contained. However, it was what was contained inside the prism that Ssvalith valued. Reflected within its glassy depths was the faint image of an old man sitting cross-legged in a field of nothing. His shoulders sagged with weariness, and yet he managed to look up defiantly when he noticed the dragon looking upon him.

“Soon all of my pieces will be in play, my old friend. It is your move. Don’t disappoint me.”

*

Chapter 9: Home

The little boy was lost, but it wasn’t so bad. He was safe here, he knew, just as if he were home. Maybe he was home. The forest loomed all around, the trees casting their shade down on him as a gentle breeze caressed his face. They were singing, those trees, and somehow it didn’t seem so unusual. It was all like it was meant to be.

Suddenly the sky darkened. The trees were bare, leafless skeletons clawing at the blackened sky, their song silenced forever. Dark shapes slithered past the dead trunks, but when he turned to look at them they weren’t there. He was glad: he didn’t want to see them, but he could still hear them hissing.

“Alexander…”

“The master will reign…”

“You cannot defeat him…”

The ground quaked and split with a great rumble and the cracking of stone, and a shadow emerged, towering over everything. Its wings enveloped the forest and still they spread until it seemed the whole world would be shrouded in darkness. His world would be destroyed. The little boy was afraid, but all of a sudden he held the song of the trees in his hand, and the shadow didn’t seem so scary. The darkness roared in outrage and came rushing down like an avalanche at him, threatening to crush him. He threw the song at it, a sword of made of wood, and all went to white.

*

Alex lay in bed in a sort of half awake, half asleep daze. He had been dreaming, a familiar dream from when he was young, but he couldn’t remember the details. He never could. He didn’t know why, but his head felt like it was full of cotton. Burning cotton. Why did that sound familiar? He was supposed to be doing something, something important, but sleep seemed to be such a better idea. It felt like weeks since he had been in a bed. After all, he had been camping out in the forest almost every night ever since…

Alex bolted upright and was instantly reminded of exactly how much his head hurt. He sank back down with his hands over his eyes.
“Kira…”

“She’s safe. Go back to sleep.”

He wanted to wake up, to see Kira for himself. He had promised to bring her back. Back where? Sleep won out over duty, dragging him back down into comforting darkness.

When he awoke again, it was still dark. Once he found he was able to actually open his eyes without any shooting pain, he slowly sat up, trying to get his bearings. Though he could barely see, something about the feel of the place, the smell, was familiar.

“Awake now, are we?”

Alex started at the voice, which came from only a few feet away.

“Grandpa?”

“Hello, Alex.”

He sank back down into the covers. “How did I get here?” he asked weakly.

“Last night I heard a song, one I haven’t heard for quite some time. I went down to the river, and guess who I find unconscious in the mud. I carried you back here, and you’ve been asleep ever since. The events that led you there, on the other hand, are a story I’d like to hear.”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Wouldn’t I? As I recall, you were the one who didn’t believe me. So, did you enjoy your time in the Green?”

Alex jumped out of bed, or at least he tried to. His legs didn’t want to support him, and he toppled over into the floor. He waved away help as he stood, finally managing to stand by leaning against the bed.

“How did you…I mean…you know?”

“Well, look at yourself.”

Grandpa leaned over and turned on a lamp, and then gestured to a mirror across the room. The light stung, but after his eyes adjusted it only took Alex a second to see what he meant. He was thinner for sure after weeks of hiking with only fruit and dried trail rations to eat, but he was also more muscular. Gone was the baby fat of a suburban kid who liked soft drinks and fast food and only rode his bike when it wasn’t too hot outside. His hair had grown out a bit, much longer than his mother would have allowed, and to top it all off had even developed a nice tan.

“Wow, I guess I do look different,” he admitted, flexing his arms a little.

“Actually, I was talking about the elf clothes,” his grandpa said dryly, referring to the soft green and brown tunic Alex still wore. Alex stopped preening and felt his face grow hot. “They really just confirmed what I thought when I heard that you had vanished. Your parents said they heard strange music and voices coming from your room that night, but when they got there you were gone. I suspected you finally got around to trying out my flute, but they didn’t want to listen to my nonsense, so they called the police. A lot of good it did them, too. That was three days ago, by the way.”

“Three days? But I was gone for…”

“Days? Weeks? Months? It’s hard to tell for sure. I was gone for a year in our world, but while I was there it seemed decades. A lifetime. But yes, as far as your parents and the authorities are concerned you have been missing since Thursday night.”

It took Alex a moment to absorb exactly what he was hearing, but overall with what he had noticed about the passage of time while in the Green, the revelation wasn’t as shocking as it probably should have been.

“So, my parents,” he started after a few moments of silence. “They’re alright, aren’t they? They didn’t see anything? I was afraid that the wyrms…”

He cut off when he saw grandpa’s face darken. “It was wyrms that came to your room? Well, that I didn’t know, but it does explain a bit. Yes, to answer your question, your parents are just fine, though they’re worried sick about you. Don’t worry,” he said, answering Alex’s question before he could even speak it, “I already called them and told them you were here. They think that you’ve run away for some reason.”

Great, so he was definitely in trouble when he got home. It’d probably mean more therapy sessions to find out what he was acting out against, and another cut in his allowance.

“So, now what?” Alex asked, taking a seat on the bed. “Are my mom and dad coming to pick me up or something, and I’ll just go home and act like nothing ever happened to me?”

His grandpa smiled. “Well, you could, if you really wanted to. From a personal perspective, I found that time in the Green is likely to change a person’s outlook on things, but I suppose it is possible to see it and then just pretend that there isn’t a whole other world out there. That’s what your father did, after all.”

Alex felt his mouth moving, but no words seemed to want to come out. After about a minute, his grandpa started to laugh.

“Well now, it seems there really is a lot you don’t know.”

“Tell me,” Alex demanded.

“Not just yet,” the old man answered. “There is still a matter that I feel needs to be addressed first.” He stood and walked out of the room, and Alex followed.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, but his grandpa just continued on, humming to himself as he went. Alex couldn’t help but notice that it was the same mysterious song he was able to play on his flute. “Come on, tell me!” he pleaded as they made their way into the story room. “If you know something then I deserve…”

The words died in his mouth as he saw what was in the next room. A slight figure lay asleep on the couch. It was Kira! Alex rushed to her side, relieved that she was alright, but before he even got close he knew something was wrong. Though the room was well lit, she appeared murky and dark, and even more startling he could vaguely see the couch cushions on the other side of her. She didn’t wake when he approached, didn’t move at all except for the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Alex reached out a hand, gasping in surprise as it passed right through her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Alex asked, his concern plain on his face.

His grandpa knelt down beside her. “She’s a shadow,” he said as if that explained everything. When Alex continued to stare blankly at him he went on.

“As I’ve told you before, our world is connected to the Green, and that the door swings both ways. However, our worlds are not as close as they once were. Humans can still enter the Green if they know the paths fairly easily, and occasionally they can even blunder their way in. However, for the fae folk of the Green to come through to this side, matters are much more complicated. This elf, Kira, you called her, is a creature tied to the magic of her world. The Green has a lifeforce, a strength, that nurtures its people. Cut off from that, she will slowly fade away. The same happens to all who stay too long in the Green; they become a part of it as much as it becomes a part of them.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Alex protested. “The wyrms that came after me were solid enough.”

“Yes, but for how many weeks did you see them as shadows before they were able to come fully into our world? With the right kind of magic and knowledge of these sorts of things, the way can be prepared, but even then certain conditions must be met. A shadow can remain in a kind of limbo state for months until a suitably foggy night rolls around, for the mists are needed to complete the gate on our side. I take it this girl didn’t take such precautions when she went through the Mistgate.”

“We were under attack,” Alex explained. “She got knocked into the gate while trying to protect me.”

The old man nodded as if the answer wasn’t too unexpected. “Well,” he said, standing to go sit in his usual story-telling chair, “if we’re to see this girl back to her home, I’d like to know exactly what happened to you while you were gone. Don’t worry about her for now; she’ll be fine for a few days, at least. I’d suggest starting from the beginning, and then we can see about dinner.”

Alex told him everything, from the first shadow he saw at the baseball game to the battle with Ishari. Alex was in no way the caliber of storyteller that his grandpa was, yet even so he was able to get a smile out of the old man when he recalled the part about scaring off the goblins by retelling part of the tale of Grimstank the troll. By the end, his grandpa was nodding as if the crazy story made perfect sense. Alex realized that to him it probably did.

Finally, he got to the part about Ssvalith.

“You always said you beat the dragon,” Alex said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “That’s the way the story goes, right? The great hero of prophecy goes to the other world and fights the dragon, killing it and saving the day for everyone. It was just a dumb fairy tale, but it wasn’t, and you didn’t even…” Alex stopped, unable to continue. He hadn’t really realized how much the old story had meant to him until now, how much it meant to him to think his grandpa really had been a hero. He felt like an idiot for even coming close to tears, but his grandpa laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and nodded in understanding.

“You’re right, Alex, that’s exactly how the story goes. I just wasn’t the right hero. Oh, I did the best I could, given the circumstances, but…”

“But what?” Alex asked.

“It’s really pretty simple: I was never supposed to be the one to slay the dragon. They got the wrong Alexander Samuels.” He let that sink in for a moment, and then stood. “Well anyhoo, for dinner I was thinking hotdogs…”

“Wait!” Alex yelled, stopping his grandpa from getting up. “I told you my story, so you tell me yours. All of it.”

“You really want to hear it? I thought you were too old to hear my stories.” Alex stared at him flatly, and he relented. “Oh, alright, I guess you do deserve the full version.”

And so he told the story. It began the same way his stories always did.

“Far away, in the land beyond the mists, hides the world of things unseen. It is a place of mystery and magic, where dreams and legends walk freely, a land of soaring mountain peaks, deep dark caves, crystal seas, expansive deserts, and ancient kingdoms. In the center of all of this is the forest. None know how deep it goes, for walking its twisted paths is sure to get one hopelessly lost. As far as anyone is concerned, the forest simply goes on forever, endless woodland filled with ancient magic. The forest goes by many names, but to those who live here, it is simply the Green…”

*

“We have to hunt down Ssvalith now, while he’s weak!” demanded Leomund, punching a gauntleted fist into his other hand for emphasis.

Ishari gave a mocking laugh. “Hunt him down with what? The Sword of Oaks is broken. Would you try to slay the beast without its strength?”

“Ssvalith cannot be found,” said Autumnus in a voice that shook his grove. “The beast uses his dark magic to obscure his presence from us.”

“Then we’ll just have to look for him the old fashioned way. We know he went somewhere into the swamp. With our armies at my command…”

Reginald cleared his throat, daring to interrupt the irate knight. He had never been one to be fazed by displays of raw emotion. “We haven’t the forces to go hunting for Ssvalith as it is,” the gnome cautioned. “The dragon may be out of the fight but need I remind you that the wyrms are still numerous. They’ve rallied behind the five remaining warlords and have begun to regroup, and on top of all of that we’ve yet to find a way to break the trolls free of their control.”

“You let us worry about the trolls,” Czar Jorgen, King Under Dwarfholme, said, patting his great hammer in his hand. “I say we move the campaign north, away from the ‘Muck. Let the dragon sit in his hidey-hole while we carve up his army.” The other assembled generals, composed of representatives from Ghome and the elven tribes nodded their agreement.

“In a few days time, perhaps,” Reginald said. “However, for now we should stay where we are, at least until our supply lines can be rebuilt.”

“Mr. VonHalderson is correct,” said Eyell, ending all argument. “We must rally our forces and defend the gains we have made thus far. The Sword was our most potent weapon, and even with Ssvalith wounded its loss still puts us at a severe disadvantage. I’ll not risk more lives…”

“More elf lives, you mean!” snapped Leomund. “That dragon burned my city, and your answer was to give the sword to that…that boy, just because that madman Kezerik said so! Look where it has led us!”

Alexander couldn’t bring himself to deny the older man’s accusation. Up until now he hadn’t said anything in this council. He had known his failure from the moment he had felt the Sword of Oaks splinter in his hand. Ssvalith had been dealt a strong blow that had sent him fleeing into the swamps of the Gobbledymuck. However Alexander had failed to pierce his heart, and thus had failed to fulfill the old wizard’s prophecy.

“Alexander is not to blame in this,” soothed Tiralia. As always her voice had a calming influence on the leaders of the Green’s armies. “Though he was brought to this world against his will, he has since willingly given his all for the Eternal Forest and its people. None could ask for a more worthy bearer of the sword.”

Leomund took a deep breath, unable to refute the simple logic of the elf queen’s statement. “Forgive my outburst, my lady, but young Alexander’s worthiness aside, the prophecy has still failed. Kezerik is dead and…”

“No.”

All eyes turned to Eyell as the elf king walked over to Alexander. “Do you have them?” he asked, and the young man nodded.

“These were all I could find,” he said, handing over the splintered pieces of the Sword of Oaks.

“It will be enough.”

The elf king took the fragments in his slender hands and began to sing in a deep sonorous voice. Tiralia joined him, placing her hands over her husband’s, and together they sang the Song of the Green. He had heard pieces of it in elven magic before, but never had he heard so much of it at once. It was a song without words, though it seemed to speak of everything the forest was: its life, its vitality, its mysterious magic. Never for the rest of his days would Alexander forget the sound of that song.

After what could have been minutes or hours, the song ended, and in Eyell’s hands he held a wooden flute.

“Ah, very clever,” rumbled Autumnus. “You have joined the blade of my flesh with the Song of the forest. But are you sure that is wise? You severely limit who can wield the weapon now.”

“We are sure,” Tiralia said with absolute confidence.

“Weapon?” asked Ishari, disbelief plain on his face. “I see no weapon. What, are we to face the dragon with a flute?”

“‘Shattered flesh, made whole in Song, sent forth to bring the Chosen One,’” Eyell intoned. “Thus it was written in the Tome of Kezerik. I believe the breaking of the blade was meant to come to pass.”

“Excuse me,” said Mr. VonHalderson, “but how can the sword, or flute, as it were, bring the hero of the prophecy? Alexander is already here.”

“That can be explained,” Tiralia said. “Autumnus?” she prompted. At that, the great tree lowered a branch to the ground, on which sat a shivering goblin. The pathetic creature huddled away from the stares of the powerful folk gathered at the council.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Alexander’s face broke into a wide grin. “Hoblin? You’re alive!”

The goblin slunk over to his friend.

“Do I have to?” he whimpered, turning back to face Eyell. The elf king nodded.

“Tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Alexander had never seen the normally happy goblin so serious and out of sorts. Indeed, he had thought the little creature slain by Ssvalith’s minions when he went missing months ago, and to see him at all was a great relief.

“Alex, I…” he started to say, then burst into tears.

“What is it? You can tell me,” Alexander said, patting Hoblin’s scruffy tuft of hair.

“You aren’t the hero!” he blurted out. Everyone in the clearing, save Eyell, Tiralia, and the Sprite King gasped.

“But…you brought me here,” Alexander protested. “You said I was in the book.”

“You’re not!” the goblin wailed. “I stole the book to try to see for myself what the prophecy said about the hero! It said he wouldn’t come for a long, long time, but we needed someone now, so I went through a Mistgate to find someone with the same name and since you kind of look like him…”

“What?” roared Leomund. “Are you telling me that this whole time we trusted our greatest weapon, our very lives, to someone who isn’t even the right man?”

“I didn’t mean to lie to everyone,” sniffled Hoblin. “But we needed you, Alex, and you did pretty good, didn’t you?”

“I did do pretty good,” the young man whispered to comfort the goblin. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hoblin.”

“No matter, then,” Leomund said. “Give the flute to me, Eyell, and I will hunt the dragon down. I must repay him for what he did to New Odyssey.”

“I’m afraid the flute would not work in your hands, Sir Leomund,” Autumnus said. “Valiant though you are, only one who can hear the Song of the Green in his heart can wield it now.”

“We shall wait for the hero of the prophecy, the true one,” Eyell said. “He shall be the next to bear the Sword of Oaks. I’m afraid I cannot let you use the sword for your vengeance.”

Leomund’s hand went to his hilt, and with a flash he drew forth his sword. From the look in his eyes it seemed he very well may attempt to strike down the elf king in his rage. It would surely be the last thing he ever did, as immediately the elven generals, each a chieftain of his or her tribe, drew their weapons. Eyell stayed them with a gesture and met the man’s angry gaze with one of pure serenity. With a growl the knight hurled his blade to the ground, where it stuck blade first. Without another word he turned and left the grove.

“What do we do now?” the gnome asked.

“After thinking it over, we think it best that the story be spread that the prophecy failed,” Queen Tiralia said. “With luck, Ssvalith and his minions will cease to seek the real hero, and with that we will be at an advantage when the dragon chooses to reemerge.”

“But how will you find him?” Alexander asked.

“We won’t,” Eyell answered, pressing the flute into his hands. “You will. Go back to your world, Alexander, and find one in whose heart the song of the Green sings. His name will be Alexander, like yours, and he shall be the one to finally defeat the evil that is Ssvalith.”

“How will I know?” he asked, bewildered by such a monumental task.

“‘By blood of the shattered knight, the hero descends, the forest’s righteous might, carried in his hand,’” Eyell again quoted from the cryptic Tome of Kezerik. Not for the first time and certainly not the last Alexander wondered why the wizard of New Odyssey found it necessary to rhyme his prophecy. “‘The forest’s righteous might’ is carried within the Sword of the Oaks, and you are he who shattered it. To your bloodline the hero will be born. Find him, and prepare his way.”

“My bloodline? But I don’t even have any children,” Alexander protested.

“What about that Mary girl you keep going on about?” Hoblin asked. “I bet she’d have kids with…” Any further suggestions from the goblin were muffled by the hand of a blushing Alexander.

“Autumn,” Eyell bade, and a lovely little sprite flew down from Autumnus’s branches to his call.

“Yeah?”

“I’d like you to meet Alexander.”

“Hiya,” she said with a tiny handshake.

“This sprite will be my messenger,” Eyell explained. “The flows of time between our world and yours move within different currents, but you shall know that the time of the dragon’s return grows near when Autumn comes to you. Watch for her carefully, as you know the opportunities in which our people can enter your world are brief. I shall send you back to your world whenever you are ready.”

Alexander looked down at the simple flute, thinking how heavy it felt. He would not fail in this, not when a world of such innocence remained threatened by evil. He shuddered at the thought of sending his own child to face the dragon as he had, but he knew it had to be done.

“I’m ready now,” Alexander said. “Send me home.”

*

Alex stood outside on the front porch, watching the clouds go by while trying to digest the tale he had been told. It all seemed too much, yet it all fit together so easily. Alexander Samuels had not spent a year in the Green. That was only the amount of time he had been missing from Earth. No, Alex’s grandpa had spent a lifetime in that other world, living amongst the humans of New Odyssey, traveling with his friend Hoblin, evading the persistent curiosity of the gnomes, and most importantly, fighting the wyrms. When he had arrived Ssvalith’s war against the Green had been in full swing and the good folk of the forest were almost in complete retreat. Though he wanted nothing more than to go home, he felt that he had a duty to these people who looked to him as their savior. He had learned how to fight, and then had learned how to lead. Finally he had obtained the Sword of Oaks which he used to defeat the dragon, even if he could not strike the final blow.

All the time he had been away, Alexander never forgot those he had left behind back on Earth, especially a young girl named Mary. He returned home fully expecting time to have moved on without him, and so he was overjoyed to learn that only a year had passed. He eventually did convince Mary to marry him, and together they had a son, Alex’s father. Grandpa had been sure that it would be his son that would be the true hero, and had even wanted to name him Alexander to match the prophecy, but his wife insisted that they name him James after her own father. He never could tell her ‘no.’ Even with the wrong name, Alexander had prepared James to journey to the Green in much the same way he would later prepare Alex himself, through stories meant to incite feelings of heroism and wonder about the enchanted forest world.

As James Samuels grew up, though, it became clear he had no interest in being a hero or having adventures. James was the scholarly type, one who looked at the world through the lens of logic and reason. There was no room for magic in his life. In a desperate attempt to try to change his mind, Alexander even took his son into the Green using the magic of the flute, a short trip that had terrified young James and made it clear that he was not the one. The Song of the Green did not play in his heart. James convinced himself it had all been a dream, and had never talked about the incident again. Though he would have two other children, twin girls, the prophecy clearly spoke of a male descendent. Alexander Samuels began to lose hope. Time passed and it seemed Eyell’s interpretation of the prophecy would not come to pass after all.

James grew up and he himself was married, and soon he had a child of his own. Alexander James Samuels, a baby boy affectionately named after his father and grandfather. With that naming hope was returned. The words of Kezerik had said the hero would be of Alexander’s bloodline, but until then he had not even considered it might be someone other than his immediate offspring. Still, it was worth a try. Alexander watched with joy as his grandson absorbed tales of the Green, filling the young boy with desire for adventure. Through these stories, the child would be armed with knowledge of the people, key figures, and places of the Green, though he was always careful not to mention anything of the prophecy to the child lest he become burdened by it at too young an age. More important than knowledge, though, was faith, the belief in the magic of a place unspoiled by sin that would allow Alex to one day make the journey through to the other side of the mists.

As love for this other world grew in his heart, the boy began to see glimpses of the Green itself, at first only in dreams but then in the shadowy figures of those who brushed the lines between worlds. While Alex’s parents worried over the child’s vivid imagination, Alexander knew it meant that it was the forest itself that was calling out to his grandson. There was little doubt that Alex was the one of whom the wizard had spoken of long ago. With this realization came fear for the boy, fear in knowing that Ssvalith waited somewhere out there, beyond the mists that divided the two worlds; knowing that if the words of Kezerik did come to pass then little Alex would one day have to fight the dragon. Still, it would be worth the risk, worth everything. He had vowed all those years ago to save those people, his friends, even their entire world, however he could.

“I know this is a lot to ask of you,” his grandpa had said to him after relating his fantastic tale. “I should have been more honest with you from the start, even if I knew you wouldn’t believe without seeing the Green for yourself. I can’t say for sure whether or not I believe in things like prophecy and fate, or whether this is all some crazy coincidence that I got you caught up in. That’ll be for you to find out for yourself. All I know is that if there exists a place as good and pure as the Green surely is then it deserves to be defended. There is so much evil in our world, Alex. Don’t let it take another, too. So, it is your choice: you can return to your life, your home, or…”

“I’m going back,” Alex had answered, and he meant it. “I promised that I would protect Kira and I’m going to do that. I have to bring her home. I don’t know about all that other stuff, but I can at least help her.”

“If that’s the case,” the old man answered with a grin, “then I have a few more gifts for you.” With that, he opened up the old trunk in the den, the one in which he had stored the flute all these years. Inside were souvenirs from his original journey: a tattered banner depicting a stylized red lion on a field of faded green, a well-worn elven tunic, a few dried leaves and flowers, a suit of shining chain armor, a small round shield engraved with the likeness of an oak leaf, a double-curved bow, left unstrung, and a handful of arrows in a leather quiver.

“You’re too small for the armor just yet, but I’m sure you’ll find use for the buckler and the bow. If I had more time I’d show you how to use them properly, but I know of someone even better. Seek out Leomund, the knight. He’ll show you how.”

That had been hours ago, and now Alex stood there thinking over his decision. He had worked so hard to leave that place, and now here he was, planning to dive back into it as soon as nighttime rolled around. He knew he could always back out, right up to the last minute, but something in him told him not to. He had spent too much time waiting for something to come along in his life to bring some meaning to it, and now that something had come along there was no way he could let it just slip by. He didn’t give much credit to the prophecy, but he had to find out if he was capable of what his grandpa had tasked him with. He just had to know.

His grandpa had assured him that he would take care of his parents, who’d surely wonder about their son’s absence. Maybe if he was lucky the difference in time between the Green and Earth would let him complete whatever it was he was supposed to do and still have him back before school started in a month, and then he could still get on with the rest of his life without too much interruption. All in all, it seemed like a perfect plan.

With renewed confidence, they set out at sundown to the river. Alex felt strange with the bow and quiver on his back, the buckler strapped on his arm. His grandpa had given him a small canvas backpack, too, a compact one that hung low on his back so as to not get tangled with the bow. In it was a change of clothes, some food, a first-aid kit, and a few other odds and ends.

“I ran into town for the clothes while you were asleep,” the old man had explained. “They probably aren’t as stylish as you’d want, but they’re better than pajamas.”

Alex couldn’t argue with that, and even though the clothes definitely weren’t designer brands he was grateful for the supplies. Best of all, safely stored in a sealed tube was a map his grandpa had made years ago showing the basic layout of a large portion of the forest marking the different woods and major trails, including locations for several Mistgates. For all intents and purposes it was a map that showed the way back home.

They drove in the old truck as far as they could across his grandpa’s land which consisted of acres of overgrown, fallow farmland, and then walked the last mile or so to the river that bordered the property. Alex was surprised that his grandpa could not only keep up walking alongside him, but could often outpace him. Maybe the Green had left a part of itself in him, even after all these years. He carried in his arms the shadowy form of Kira, though how he even managed to pick her up in her current state Alex had no idea. Maybe the Green had left a part of itself in him, even after all these years.

“Here we are,” grandpa said, lowering Kira gently down on the ground. She stirred a bit in her sleep but remained unconscious.

“Where’s here?” Alex asked. He’d been down to the river many times when he was a boy, and as far as he knew there was nothing particularly special about the place. Vague memories of playing with sprites along the riverbank bubbled up in his memory every time he thought of the place, but he had always written them off as an old dream he had once had. These days, he wasn’t so sure.

“There’s a Mistgate here, though our side of it isn’t marked, of course. I stumbled into it when I was a few years older than you are now, but I had a guide at the time.”

“Hoblin?” Alex ventured, and the old man smiled and nodded.

“There’s someone else you should try to look up while you’re away. Hoblin always was your favorite.”

Alex actually felt a little giddy at the thought of being able to actually meet the goblin who had featured in many of his favorite stories, though he immediately felt silly for it. Even if the stories were based on truth, this wasn’t about fairy tales. This was serious.

“Ah, don’t look so serious,” his grandpa chided him, uncannily reading his thoughts. “There’ll be enough time for that later. Find Eyell. Help him return to normal and learn what you can about the prophecy. With luck you won’t run into any more danger, but be prepared for anything. If the prophecy is true you will meet Ssvalith again and you will have to fight him. Stay true and trust in the power of the Sword and you will win.”

Alex looked uneasily at the flute tied to his belt. “I’m not even sure how to use the thing,” he admitted.

“The Sword of Oaks was fashioned to defend the Green and its people. You don’t use it so much as it uses you. Treat it like it’s just a weapon and it’ll fail you just as you fail it. However, if your intent is to safeguard others it will always transform to your call. Open your mind, keep the Song of the Green playing in your heart and accept its wisdom. With time you will master the sword’s strength.”

Alex looked at him quizzically. “How do you know all this stuff?”

The old man laughed. “Didn’t you listen to all those stories? I had to figure all this out from scratch. You’ve got it easy. Now, let’s get started. Play the song.”

Alex brought the flute to his lips. For what seemed a long time he was unable to play. What was he doing? He didn’t really want to go back, did he? He could go home, forget all this. He could be safe…though without him, would any of his friends be safe? And since when did he consider a group of imaginary creatures his friends? He smirked at the thought and pushed all doubt aside, and in a rush the Song came to him. It played easily, his fingers dancing over the holes of the instrument of their own accord. The Song blended with the gentle babbling of the river’s waters, and with the rustle of leaves of the trees overhead. Nature played in harmony with the tune, a wordless song of good and pure things, a song so rarely heard on this world but one that played continually in the Green for those who could hear it.

The mists rose off the river and gathered in front of Alex, who ended on a high note. He stared into the swirling vortex in front of him sure of what he had to do. Without even saying another word, his grandpa scooped Kira from the ground and handed her to Alex. He was afraid her shadowy form would slip right through his arms, but she was solid, and though she was as tall as he was she was light in his arms. Alex nodded at his grandpa and with a smile wrought of grim determination he stepped into the mists.

“I’ll be here waiting for you, Alex.”

Alex stopped suddenly and turned back as the mists began to envelope him.

“What is it Alex?”

“There’s just one thing I have to know before I go back: what the heck is the Dreaded Plog?”

“The what? Oh, right the Dreaded Plog! Well you see, it’s…”

Too late. The mists closed in over Alex and Kira, cutting off any further explanation. All went to white.

*

Epilogue: The Trollblood Stone

Balmaevin sighed with contentment as he and Guado crested the peak of the last foothill. Straight ahead the lone peak of Dwarfholme thrust up to the heavens, a spire of bare stone which towered over the endless sea of forest like a watchful sentinel. It had been in sight for days as he returned from his trading mission to the satyrs (and quite a healthy profit that had been, too), but just knowing he was on the homestretch reminded him as it did every time he left just how grand it was to be home. The Green was lovely to behold, and each journey through it was an adventure for the dwarf trader, but there was no place like Dwarfholme. Here the dwarves had made their own place in the world, a single mountain carved and crafted to become one giant fortress, a city and haven for sensible folk with simple dreams and profitable schemes. Aye, it was marvelous to behold from afar, and it’d be even better once he was inside, back among his people.

As he approached, walking alongside his now unladed pack goat, he couldn’t contain his smile. Friendly faces were everywhere, bearded dwarf men and rosy cheeked dwarf women coming and going in and out of the mountain on their daily business. They smiled and waved as he passed, even those he didn’t know by name, and then continued on their way. Balmaevin noted with pride that, as always, his people conducted their affairs with all the efficiency of a well-oiled machine.

“Let Ghome have its bustle and chaos,” he said proudly to Guado. “We dwarves do it right.” As always, the goat failed to respond.

The gates were open as he approached. They always were, after all, as none had ever dared assault the mightiest of strongholds. Still, the guards on duty watched with vigilance as he led Guado past. After the trials and tribulations of the wild Green, it was good to know that here there was security. If only there wasn’t that annoying whistling sound. What was that anyway?

“Hey Guado, do you hear…?”

An explosion rocked the gate as a ball of crackling lightning streak down from the sky and smashed into the ground. The dwarves in its immediate vicinity were stricken to the ground, guards and commoners alike. Balmaevin struggled with the reins as Guado bleated and tried to break into a run, and only by virtue of his stout dwarven strength did he manage to hold the oversized beast in check. That lasted only until another bolt of magic came in the wake of the first, blasting the merchant to the ground. Guado snapped his reins and broke into a run, bowling over dazed dwarves as he made for the safety of the foothills.

Balmaevin had seen much in his six hundred and twenty two years as a traveling merchant, but never in his life would he have thought he’d see the gates of Dwarfholme under attack. He watched dazed on the ground as the assailant floated into view. It was a single elf clad in ornate red robes. He surveyed the destruction he had wrought for only a moment with a look of haughty satisfaction before flying slowly through to the gate. Why did he look familiar? All elves looked alike, of course: skinny, too-tall, baby-faced tree huggers, but something about those robes made this one stand apart. Maybe once his head stopped ringing he’d be able to put a name to this one.

A few of the guards managed to pull themselves together enough to mount a ragged defense, standing between the elf and the city beyond the gate. One flung his war hammer at the attacker, which tumbled end over end straight and true only to smack into a barely visible aura of magical energy that sheathed the elf. The sorcerer to his credit never even flinched, and the hammer fell harmlessly to the ground with a clank. He smirked at the soldier and raised his left hand to point at him. Though the rest of him was fair skinned, that hand was jet black shot through with veins of red which glowed like hot coals. The soldier glared at the elf and spat at him, awaiting the attack. With a single hissed word, a jet of black fire shot from that evil hand, and when the flame subsided the brave dwarf was no more. Balmaevin had seen enough in his days to know dark magic when he saw it, and this one stank to High Heaven with it.

The remaining guards, undaunted and enraged by the death of their comrade, charged the elf while a pair of them reluctantly fled to try and close the massive iron gates. The dark magic of the attacker made short work of them, and unopposed he flew on. He stopped for a moment just short of entering, turning his gaze to Balmaevin.

“Excuse me, good sir. I do so hate to be a bother, but might you direct me to where the Trollblood Stone is kept?”

Balmaevin tried to meet his gaze with typical dwarven defiance, and what he saw shocked him. The elf’s eyes held no malice, no anger, no bloodlust. He was as calm and content as a sprite child picking daisies in the meadow, smiling even, and somehow that made the sorcerer all the more frightening.

“It’s…it’s in the temple,” he stammered, cursing himself for his cowardice.

“My thanks, kind sir.” The elf bowed elegantly and entered Dwarfholme. Balmaevin could only sit and stare blankly as the sound of more explosions echoed out from the city. In seemingly no time at all, the elf walked calmly out of the gate, looking none the worse for the wear. He tossed something back and forth between his hands, a small jagged crystal, blood red and glowing with a sinister light.

“All this for such a tiny thing,” he said aloud, though whether to himself or the cowering dwarves, who could tell? “King Eyell will be pleased.” With that, the elf vanished, teleported to who-knows-where.

“King Eyell?” Balmaevin asked himself. “Now I know who that was!” he yelled to the stunned dwarves. “That was Ishari, the elf chancellor! The king must have sent him!”

“It couldn’t be!”

“Why would the elves attack us?”

“Has Eyell gone mad?”

“How could they do this?”

Balmaevin stood and reverently lifted a war hammer from the ground. It was the one which belonged to the defiant guard, the one who had spit in the face of death while he himself had cowered. Well not next time.

“If it’s a war the elves want, we’ll give it to ‘em! Who’s with me?” The merchant hefted the hammer overhead, and the dwarves cheered grimly.

*

Ishari sat on a ridge top above the gates of Dwarfholme, looking down on the agitated dwarves. He had said that last part on a whim, but he knew if there was one flaw the dwarves had, it was pride. He had wounded theirs severely. They’d not take an attack on their home lying down, and he had deftly given them a convenient target to turn their attention to. It was so simple and yet so brilliant it was a shame no one knew the truth to fully appreciate it.

He reached into his robe pocket and pulled forth the Trollblood Stone. It had been almost absurdly easy to take. The Black Flame that Ssvalith had gifted him with had served him better than he could have hoped. He looked down at the gem, glowing an angry red against the pitch black of his newly formed hand, and he couldn’t contain a slight frown. It was an ugly thing, not at all to his tastes, but in its own way very useful. The trolls couldn’t help but answer its call, and with them at his command along with his own wyrms, the Green would tremble. The elves would have no choice but to bow to him as king, not if they wanted to survive. Ssvalith would reign supreme, and ruling in his name Ishari would have the kingdom he had desired for so long.

It was only a matter of time.

*

End of Book One of Tales from the Green

###

To be continued in TftG Book 2: The Wizard’s Tome

Contact the author online!

Email: spamnotron@yahoo.com

News, excerpts, and short stories at BlogSpot: http://sdbest.blogspot.com