THE RUNE OF ROON

Books of Rhyyne 1

By

Jeremy Slater

PROLOGUE:

OINKS IN THE DARK

            The forest trembled with the sound of oinks.

            The three young girls surrounding the campfire straightened up and stared out into the night. The girls had flowing blonde hair, and they were draped in identical green cloaks. Their names were Joy, Abernathy and Fruit.

            The Great Green Oink is preceded by a wretched, vaguely muddy stench, and this odor is preceded by a grunty oinking noise that gives the creature its undignified yet wholly appropriate name. This distinctive oinking had been ringing out through the forest for the last several minutes, and now the musty scent of Oinkflesh crept into the clearing.

            Abernathy yawned.

            The girls had been born identical triplets, a special feat indeed, but then Fruit had carelessly gone and grown exceedingly fat, so now the trio resembled one set of identical twins and one blobby looking creature with beady little eyeballs and a constant aura of recently eaten fudge.

            Joy was the eldest sister by a grand total of three minutes, so she had ended up with the best name. Their mother--bless her unimaginative soul--had decided on two perfectly good names during her pregnancy--Joy if the baby was a girl, Abernathy if it was something else. When their mother had been rudely surprised with triplets, panic had ensued. It had taken the poor woman nine months to think up two good names, yet here were three babies! She had counted the babies, the number of available names, then the babies again. No, the numbers simply did not match up.

            The only other object in the birthing room had been a bowl of fruit.

            "Oink. Oink oink oink oink. Oink oink." The forest was alive with oinking.

            "Appears we shall have company soon," Joy remarked.

            "Mmm," Abernathy agreed.

            Fruit munched on a pastry she had found who-knows-where and said nothing.

            The smell was quickly becoming unbearable. Many scholars claimed that the Great Green Oink's body odor was a sort of defense mechanism to ward off predators who were feeling especially predatory at the moment. Others quite rightly pointed out that maybe the Oinks simply didn't like taking baths. Whatever the cause, the smell came into the clearing with a sort of wet, resounding thud, and the Oinks followed.

            A thunder of dust raced out of the forest, filled with flashing hooves and jiggling green bellies. For a moment, the forest was a cacophony of oinking and stinking. The three sisters blinked mildly as the dust cloud swept over them, and then the Oinks were upon them.

            The oinking had already faded into the distance by the time the dust had settled back down onto the carpet of pine needles and brush that littered the clearing. The smell was the last thing to apologetically slink away into the night. The sisters remained seated, untouched by the stampeding beasts.

            Joy fanned her face theatrically. "Certainly a stinky lot, are they not?"

            "Nice rhyme," said Abernathy, who always approved of spontaneous rhyming. "I wonder what could be upsetting the Oinks so?"

            "Indeed," Joy said. "I wonder."

            Fruit stared at her pastry sadly. "Got dust in m' food," she moaned. "Great smelly pigdust." Shaking her head, she crammed the rest of the pastry into her mouth and chewed mournfully.

            "How much fatter are ye planning on growing, dear sister?" Abernathy asked curiously.

            "Dunno." Fruit didn't seem offended by this question. She dug in her cloak for another pastry.

            Joy drew her radiant blonde hair back and cocked an ear toward the trees, listening intently. "Whatever scared the Oinks is heading this way," she finally announced.

            "Sounds dangerous," Abernathy said.

            "Perhaps we should hide?"

            "Not that dangerous."

            "Ah," Joy said.

            They sat patiently, watching Fruit eat. Occasionally they gave her words of encouragement, which seemed to inspire her feeding frenzy. Mangled pastry bits flew through the sky. Joy and Abernathy oohed and aahed at all the appropriate moments.

            Something growled in the woods.

            Fruit tore herself away from her food and sniffed the night air. Like all fat girls, she had an excellent sense of smell. "Dragon," she declared.

            Abernathy looked alarmed. "A dragon? Here? Now?"

            The sisters slowly stood. Joy and Abernathy instinctively moved behind Fruit. If one of them had to be devoured by a dragon, Fruit was the logical choice, since she would take the longest to eat.

            A pair of torches appeared in the distance, bobbing and weaving toward the clearing. They crackled with a bright orange fury. Also, they blinked.

            "That's a little dragon," Joy said. She sounded disappointed.

            "Alone, do ye think?" Abernathy asked.

            "He ain't alone," a voice said from behind them.

            The sisters spun around just in time to see a small figure retreating back into the woods--a Dwarf. Firelight glinted off a curved metal blade. The Dwarf chuckled as the shadows swallowed him whole.

            Joy glanced skyward. A massive pine towered over them, blotting out most of the moonlight. Even in the gloom, she could see the outline of a small creature creeping along the branches. The creature was muttering softly to itself. They were surrounded from all directions.

            "Are ye going to attack us?" Joy asked.

            The dragon's eyes blinked again, then vanished.

            "Guess so," Joy said heavily.

            Two figures stepped into the clearing. One of them was a large warrior, his face flecked with scars, a massive broadsword held at the ready. The second was a stooped figure wrapped in an old gray cloak that threw cold shadows over her face. When she spoke, her voice was low and muffled.

            "There's no need for bloodshed tonight."

            "Well, that is a good thing, is it not?" Joy said cheerfully.

            "Very good," Abernathy agreed.

            "Guut," Fruit mumbled through a spray of pastry crumbs.

            The cloaked figure took another limping step forward. "We come seeking a finding stone. We were told that the last finding stone in this kingdom was held by the Weirlock sisters."

            Joy tried to look puzzled. "A finding stone? Mercy, but I do not believe we have one of those. Is that not right, dear sisters?"

            "Quite right," Abernathy agreed. "We found the finding stone, but then we lost it again. Ye will find that finding stones dinnae like to stay found."

            Joy shrugged. "So sorry. Could we interest ye in any hand-woven quilts instead? They are quite warm, and they always stay right where ye leave them."

            Fruit suddenly frowned. With a noticeable effort, she swallowed her current bite of pastry. "Finding stone? What're ye talking about--we've got a finding stone right over there in the mmmrrggh!"

            Fruit mmmrrgghed because Abernathy had forcefully clapped a hand over her mouth. Abernathy threw the strangers an apologetic smile. "I beg ye're pardon, kind strangers. My dear sister often says untruths, so she does. We fear the fatness gets to her head and makes her thick."

            The voice that rumbled out of the darkness sounded like a hundred rabid dogs trying to eat each other in the middle of a thunderstorm. "YOU CAN SELL US THE STONE, OR YOU CAN GIVE IT TO US FREELY. THOSE ARE YOUR ONLY CHOICES."

            Joy sighed. "Suppose we must not argue with a dragon."

            "Aye," Abernathy said. She walked across the clearing and knelt by their knapsacks, fishing around for a moment. When she straightened back up, she held a small black orb that resembled an expired and possibly hostile plum. A vortex of strange black mist hummed and spun beneath the orb's glassy surface. Abernathy stared at the finding stone for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. "They told ye about the Weirlock sisters, did they?" she finally asked.

            The figure in the cloak nodded slightly.

            "And what else did they tell ye, I wonder?"

            "To be careful," the figure said simply.

            Joy laughed--a clear, ringing laugh that seemed as inappropriate as fireworks at a funeral. "Careful!" she cried, doubling over with her hands clasped across her stomach. Her entire body shook with laughter. "Careful, they told ye?"

            The small figure emerged from the darkness again, looking rather worried. "I don't like this, Princess," the Dwarf began, and then Joy smiled at him.

            Joy's eyes had become bright, blazing green, with black-slitted pupils that hung from her face like shards of broken glass. The skin around her eyes rippled and changed.

            "Can I eat yet?" Fruit asked impatiently.

            "Aye," Joy said, still laughing. "As much as ye can, dear sister."

            The Dwarf took a stumbling step back, his eyes widening. "Aw, cripes!" he cried. "They're monsters!"

            The figure in the cloak rushed forward. The firelight threw her childish face into sharp relief, and Abernathy crowed surprised laughter. "Ye are a young tart after all! 'Tis good...the young ones are tastier!" Abernathy's chuckle turned into a muffled croak as three legs suddenly sprouted from her back. The legs propelled Abernathy forward, snarling and snapping. The young girl dodged at the last moment, but Abernathy sunk her teeth into the girl's cloak and held fast.

            Fruit said nothing. She merely expanded, her face turning a blotchy pink as it swelled to nine times its normal size. Her green eyes bulged, and she smacked her lips loudly. Rows of wicked-looking teeth were sliding into place in her mouth, each the size of a respectable dagger.

            "They're puffergoblins!" the warrior cried. He hurried after Abernathy, who was merrily chewing away on the young girl's cloak. The three figures formed an absurd circle as they raced around the campfire. "Stop them before they grow too big!"

            Joy took a deep breath, instantly doubling her size, then she lunged across the clearing. She hit the ground once, bounced, and flew forward in a sprawling, ungraceful arc. The dragon burst out of the forest and collided with Joy in mid-air. They crashed back down to the ground. The puffergoblin bounded skyward again immediately. The dragon did not.

            "I told you we shouldn't have tried to act menacing!" the young girl in the cloak howled miserably. "Now look what's happened...oh, OUCH! Get this thing off me!"

            "BITE, BITE, BITE," Abernathy said, chewing her way up the cloak. Her eyes were rolling madly in her head. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

            On the other side of the clearing, Fruit had ballooned to an impressive size. Her forehead brushed against the underside of the canopy of trees, and her massive belly blotted out most of the skyline. She had grown five more arms, which she was using to casually shove the towering old pine trees aside. One of the ancient trees went flying fifty feet before it smashed to a skidding halt. "WHERE ARE YE, LITTLE DWARF?" she growled. "FRUIT IS HUNGRY."

            "I'll bet you are, you great fat thing," the Dwarf muttered from somewhere in the darkness.

            The scene soon became pure pandemonium. The dragon stood back up just in time to be struck by a tree that Fruit had absently tossed over her shoulder. The warrior had managed to stab Abernathy, and the puffergoblin was blasting around the clearing like a punctured balloon, dragging the young girl behind her. Fruit was yelping as the little Dwarf pelted her with rocks. In the midst of all this carnage, a tiny gnome appeared in the middle of the clearing. It scooped up the finding stone and peered at it critically.

            The stone sparkled darkly. Within its inky mists lay the power of infinite wisdom, the promise of forbidden secrets long since forgotten, the echoes of worlds that had thrived and died in the cosmic blink of an omniscient eye.

            The gnome ate the finding stone.

            "Now Yap will be the one to find Jonah!" he announced. He seemed quite pleased with his stupidity. The stone flickered and flashed in his belly, and the gnome's eyes widened as somewhere, deep inside his pea-sized gnome brain, the orphanage appeared.

 CHAPTER ONE:

UNICORNS ARE VERY STUPID CREATURES

          The orphanage sat at the end of a twisting, dirty little street on the outskirts of a winding, grimy little town that smelled vaguely like cabbage and saltwater. Its official name was the Peterbilt Home for Unlucky Children, which was something of a cruel understatement. The walls were painted the dismal brown of a cardboard box, and creeping clusters of vines arched a lightning path across the building's sides. On windy days the entire orphanage would wheeze and moan, on the verge of simply tumbling over in a defeated heap of rubble. Most of the children who lived inside its walls agreed this would be something of a mercy killing.

          In the very last room on the third floor lived a boy named Jonah Butterman. He was a short, quiet child with blond hair and a face that was still several years away from being considered handsome. He was thirteen years old, which some might consider an unlucky number. In truth, seventeen, twenty-six and ninety-eight are the unluckiest numbers of all, but they don't receive much publicity. No, thirteen is merely an awkward and uncoordinated number, constantly tripping over furniture, forgetting to take the garbage out, and just generally annoying the rest of the numbers.

          Jonah had lived at the orphanage for longer than he could remember. Occasionally foster parents would take him in, but it never lasted long. Trouble followed wherever he went, and he was always returned to the orphanage with hasty apologies. It had once been something of a popular game among the Peterbilt staff to guess how long it would be before Jonah was returned. The highest the pot had ever reached was forty-six dollars and four cents. Nobody had known where those four cents had come from. They had just been there. Nobody had had the heart to throw them out.

          The betting pool had been silent for almost a year now. Nobody wanted to adopt thirteen year old boys. Jonah was too old to be cute and too young to do any heavy labor. He simply wasn't adoptable, a fact that was always made abundantly clear when Mondays rolled around. Every Monday morning the orphans had their faces scrubbed, their uniforms pressed, and their hair slicked down. They were taken to the main hall and organized in neat rows while potential parents walked down the aisles and chose the children they liked best. These days the adoptive parents didn't even slow down when they reached Jonah. Sometimes they even sped up. Jonah always pretended that being passed over didn't hurt. Sometimes he almost believed himself.

          It was Monday night. The adoptive parents had left hours earlier, taking a handful of beaming children with them. Only one adoptive parent had stopped to talk with Jonah, a fat old farmer who asked whether he knew how to build cow fences, and did he mind manual labor? When Jonah had answered truthfully--no and yes--the farmer had moved on. 

          Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. He threw his tennis ball against the wall and tried to think of something to do, preferably something that didn't involve throwing his tennis ball against the wall.

          Life in the orphanage was a rather drab existence. Chores began at seven in the morning--weeding, washing, scrubbing, drying, folding, painting, chopping, mowing, lifting, cooking, hedging, polishing, dusting, digging, organizing, sweeping, trimming, planting, stacking, mopping--all the activities that children love best. After the daily chores were finished, the orphanage staff was kind enough to give the children one entire hour of free time before the lights were turned out for the night, and Jonah usually spent this hour bouncing his tennis ball against the wall. Then it was time to sleep, which he almost never did. 

          Most nights Jonah spent lying awake, thinking about his parents. He had never met them. They had died or disappeared or simply abandoned him when he was a baby, which, in his humble opinion, was a rather rude way to treat a baby. Once there must have been paperwork that told who they were and what their fate had been, but this paperwork was also gone. Jonah's favorite theory was that his parents had been daring adventurers, constantly hopping from one corner of the globe to the next, always in search of the next hidden Inca treasure or unstoppable undead mummy creature. In these fantasies, his parents were fedora-wearing heroes, far too busy to be tied down raising a young baby. 

          He normally only got about halfway through these daydreams before he got a strange, tickling sensation in the back of his throat, the way it feels when a sneeze is first waking up and stretching. It was a stupid daydream, really. He was far too old to be wasting his time with fantasy.

          But sooner or later, the dreams always came back.

          "Ahem."

          He didn't need to look up. Every night he bounced his tennis ball against the wall, and every night the girl in the next room came by to loudly complain about the racket. Sally was a year younger than Jonah. She had short brown hair, a smattering of freckles, and what he considered to be a shrill, whining voice.

          She stood in his doorway, glaring. "Some of us here are trying to read." She enunciated each syllable clearly, because she knew this annoyed him.

          "I'm sorry, " he lied.

          She hovered there a moment longer, hands on her hips, then she hurried back to her room. Jonah tossed the ball against the wall one more time, just for good measure. It ricocheted off into the corner and rolled out of sight. He laid down and closed his eyes, wishing he had somebody else's life. Anybody else's life...it didn't matter, as long as it wasn't his own.

          He didn't fall asleep for a long time. Although considering what came next, that might have been something of a blessing.

*        *          *

          Jonah blinked. He rubbed his eyes furiously, then blinked again. It was no good; his eyes were broken. He could still see the two people in front of him.

          Only people wasn't exactly the right word, since they didn't look like any people he had ever seen before, not even the very ugly people who lived down by the bridge and screamed nonsense words at mailboxes and ducks and always seemed to be carrying tiny paper bags. Standing at the foot of his bed, the figures were so tiny that their heads barely poked above the footboard.

          They stared at him.

          "Urmph?" Jonah said. When that didn't work, he tried blinking again. It had seemed like a good plan earlier.

          They kept staring at him.

          They were the size of small children or badly wounded midgets, but that was where the resemblance ended. One of the figures had long bushy eyebrows that drooped down his cheeks until they collided with the bristling beard poking from his chin. The combined effect of all this hair made him resemble a birdnest that had just survived a particularly demented hurricane. The creature standing next to him didn't even look human...it was roughly three feet tall, with pale pink skin, large shining eyes, and a body no thicker than one of Jonah's arms. The freakish creature grinned at him.

          "Awake! At last, awake!" Its voice was a high-pitched, childish rasp. "Mighty Yap has found the boy! Happiness and clumps of love! Yap, yap, yap!"

          Its companion sighed and delivered a hefty wallop to the side of the creature's head. Howling, it flew into the air and disappeared in a puff of noxious smoke.

          I've lost my mind, Jonah thought. Are you supposed to lose your mind before you turn fourteen?

          Something in the corner flickered. For a moment, it seemed like there was another person standing in the room. Then the flicker vanished.

          "Sorry about Yap," the bearded half-man said gruffly. "He gets excited. And stupid. Sometimes stupidly excited, or excitingly stupid. Didn't want to bring him along, but the little bugger ate the last finding stone in the kingdom, which means we had to use his dream. Like I said...stupid. So, you're Jonah, eh?" He stared at Jonah critically, as if he had been expecting quite a bit more.

          Jonah found his voice, which had been hiding somewhere in the pit of his stomach. "Err...yeah. How do you know my name?"

          "Prophecy. It's a long story. Fairly boring. Typical prophecy stuff, you know...doom and gloom and flaming apocalyptic death. The usual. Oh, the name's Tom, by the way. Tom Timbertramp." He held out his hand, beaming.

          Jonah gaped. "What are you?" he blurted. It seemed the world was moving too quickly for his brain to catch up.

          The little man leaned back and cackled laughter. "Wondered when you'd get around to that!" he said. "First Dwarf you ever saw, eh?"

          Jonah nodded.

          "That's okay. You're the first Earthian I've seen. Guess that makes us even."

          "Earthian?" Jonah repeated slowly. He glanced around. "Is there a hidden camera in here or something?"

          "A hidden whatzit?"

          "Camera."

          "That a type of monster?" Tom asked seriously.

          "Monster? What...no! It's a camera. I mean...is this some kind of stupid joke?"

          The Dwarf shook his head. "Afraid not, kid."

          "Well, then am I going insane?"

          Tom considered this. "Possibly," he said at last.

          Jonah nodded. Strangely enough, he found this reassuring.

          There was a flash of sudden smoke, accompanied by a terrible smell. When the smoke cleared, Jonah saw that the thin creature with the large eyes had returned. It glared at Tom reproachfully.

          "Mean old Dwarf," it muttered. "Hurting Yap's precious and squishy head with fists of fury..."

          Jonah knelt beside the creature. It was the strangest thing he had ever seen, all wiry muscles and bulging eyeballs. He spoke softly, trying not to frighten the nervous little ball of energy. "Hi, I'm Jonah! Who are you?"

          "Yap," the creature replied. "Poor, faithful Yap, smashed on the head by fat, evil Dwarf at every chance. Fat little Dwarf beats poor Yap like the family burro." Apparently eager to illustrate this point, Tom took a step forward, his fists raised. Yap quickly scampered out of striking range, howling miserably.

          "Make him be quiet!" Jonah cried. "He'll wake everybody up!"

          Tom waved his hand absently. "Don't worry, nobody can hear us. We're not in your world anymore. Or mine, for that matter. We're In-Between."

          "In-Between and Dwarf is mean!" yelled Yap from his hiding place beneath the bed. It wasn't a very good rhyme.

          Jonah stared at Tom, feeling utterly lost. "In-Between...?" he repeated.

          Tom looked frustrated. "Here, maybe this'll help. Yap, change your dream! Stumpdock Woods...now!"

          "Shan't," the creature sniffed.

          "As soon as I find a heavy stick, I'm gonna beat you until you can't walk."

          "Stumpdock Woods, coming right up," Yap mumbled. "Anything for the fat, hateful, monkey-sucking Dwarf."

          The bedroom disappeared. Jonah blinked. They were now sitting in a beautiful wooded glade. Beams of sunlight trickled down through the treetops. Birds laughed and warbled madly in the distance.

          Jonah's jaw dropped. "How...how did you do that? And where are we?"

          "I told you, we're In-Between. The Princess has the power to connect people through dreams." Tom jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and again Jonah saw a flicker, the brief outline of a figure standing several yards away. "That's her. Since Yap ate the finding stone, she's using his dream to contact you. But it takes a lot of concentration to hold these dreams together, so she brought me along to do the talking bits. That's the how. As for the where, this is the Stumpdock Woods, or at least a memory of it. It's where I grew up, before the world went bad."

          "Do you want to see where Yap grew up?" Yap asked hopefully.

          "No, because we hate you," Tom replied.

          Yap broke into fresh and obviously fake sobs of misery.

          Jonah stared at the tiny creature as it chewed on its leg mournfully and pretended to cry. "What is he?" 

          "What, him?" Tom sounded less than interested. "He's a gnome. Stupid, pesky things, if you ask me. We all hate him."

          "That's not true!" Yap protested. "Yap is mighty and brave! Lord of the dreams! Most powerful of all the gnomes! Here, Yap will show you..."        

          "I'm warning you..." Tom began.

          He was too late. Yap's face scrunched up in fierce concentration. A moment later, several enormous flowers burst from the ground. They shot upwards, until they towered high above Jonah and Tom. The flowers opened, exposing Yap's face beaming at them from every stem.

          "No!" Tom yelled. "Quit screwing with the dream, Yap!"

          The Yap Flowers began to sing what might have been the single worst song in the history of music. It went something like this:

Dream flower, gnome power

Squeezing through the ground!

Metal petals better settle

And knock the Fat Dwarf down!

          And with this, the nearest flower bent and scooped Tom into the air. The little Dwarf's face had gone bright red. This seemed to please the Yap Flowers.

Happy lunching, Dwarfy punching

Running through the town!

Always munching, never scrunching

Yapping upside-down!

          The flower abruptly twisted, flipping Tom over neatly. His legs pumped furiously against the skyline. The Dwarf's beard fell across his face, muffling a stream of what were no doubt incredibly foul curses. The Yap Flower began to shake Tom like a maraca in time with the music.

Shaking Dwarves and breaking wharves

And tear the lighthouse down!

In-Between the Yap can morph

And make the fat Dwarf frown!

O, Yap is noble, Yap is mighty

Yap can save the world

Grab the Dwarf and shake him tightly

Until he needs to hurl!

          "Until he needs to hurl!" the other Yap Flowers chorused happily.

          "I'm gonna kill you," Tom hissed through his beard. "I'm gonna kill you, then I'm gonna find a dark wizard to bring you back to life, then I'm gonna kill you again."

          "You'd better put him down," Jonah told the rogue Yap Flower, trying desperately to hide his smile.

          The Yap Flower looked disappointed, but it bent its stalk in a brief nod. There was a sharp pop accompanied by a sudden rush of air, and the Yap Flowers vanished. Tom crashed to the ground. He leaped to his feet, cursing madly and staring around with wild eyes. "Where is he?" he panted. "I'm gonna turn him inside out."

          "I don't see him," Jonah said. The little gnome had vanished into the trees high above them, where he was doing a poor job of concealing his laughter.

          There was another pop and the grass beneath their feet became a brilliant pink. The pink grass swayed gently in the breeze. It hurt Jonah's brain just to watch it.

          "Knock it off, Yap!" Tom howled.

          A few branches rustled, and the gnome's voice drifted down to them. "Who wants to see Unicorns?"

          "No!" Tom screeched.

          "Yeah!" Jonah said eagerly.

          "Unicorns ahoy!" Yap screamed, lost in ecstasy.

          Tom glared at Jonah.

          There was a soft whinny. Jonah glanced over and felt his heart skip a beat.

          Two Unicorns were emerging from the woods. They had billowing manes, glistening white flanks, and dangerous-looking horns jutting from their foreheads. A golden aura surrounded the Unicorns, making them shimmer with an ethereal light that was practically blinding. They stood still for a moment, pawing the ground and looking about, then they slowly headed in Jonah's direction.

          "Are they...real?" Jonah asked, his eyes wide.

          "Not these two," Tom snorted. "That's what I'm trying to explain...this is Yap's dream. Nothing is real here, except for us. These Unicorns are just memories."

          "I've never seen anything like them."

          "Huh. Well, you'll get over the shock right quick. Unicorns are very stupid creatures."

          But they didn't look stupid to Jonah. He thought they were awesome. One of the creatures paused and stared down at him.

          "Hullo," it said.

          "H-hello," Jonah replied.

          "Hullo," it answered. It seemed pleased.

          "Hello," he repeated.

          "Hullo." The Unicorn grinned at him happily.

          The Dwarf snorted. "See what I mean? Stupid. They'll do this all day long, just saying Hullo back and forth to each other over and over again."

          The first Unicorn suddenly noticed its companion, apparently for the first time. The two Unicorns smiled at each other.

          "Hullo."

          "Hullo."

          Jonah frowned as the magical beasts launched into a barrage of salutations. "Don't they ever say anything else?"

          "Nope. Can't ever think of anything else to say."

          The nearest Unicorn straightened up, pointing its horn at the sky. The horn flashed brilliant blue and the Unicorn suddenly rose several feet into the air. It levitated there for a moment, grinning, then came crashing back down, where it lay in a tangled sprawl of limbs.

          "Hullo," it said.

          "Can't you say anything else?" Jonah asked the creature.

          There was another sudden pop, and Yap's head appeared on the Unicorn's neck. "Worship Yap!" it screamed cheerfully.

          Tom flew into a frenzy. He grabbed a nearby stick and rushed at the Yap-Unicorn, beating its flanks madly. The Yap-Unicorn let out one final Hullo before it vanished. Tom collapsed to the ground, his entire body trembling.

          "Um, are you okay?" Jonah asked.

          "Think I just grew an ulcer..." the Dwarf mumbled darkly. One of his eyes was twitching.

          There was another pop and the Yap-Unicorn reappeared. The strange creature stuck out his tongue and blew a noisy raspberry. "The message, old hairy pigdog! You're going to run out of time!"

          With lightning reflexes, the Dwarf flung the stick he was holding, catching the Yap-Unicorn squarely on the nose. With an outraged squeal, the gnome disappeared again.

          Tom stared off into the distance, muttering something under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like, "Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill."

          "The message...?" Jonah prompted.

          Tom shook his head slowly, and his eyes seemed to clear. "The message. Right, right, the message." He stroked his beard, as if trying to decide where to begin. "Well, for starters, this is all a dream. You probably already realized that, but you also have to realize that sometimes dreams are more than just dreams. Sometimes there's truth in 'em, but between falling asleep and waking up, the truth sometimes gets muddled. Lost. You've got to make sure that doesn't happen now. You've got to remember what I'm gonna tell you."

          "I...I'll try."

          "Okay. You're in danger. Terrible, terrible danger."

          "This isn't going to be a good message, is it?"

          "Pay attention. Ever since we found the finding stone...and lemme tell you, that was a mess, what with those rotten puffergoblins and...never mind, there ain’t enough time. Anyway, the Princess has been trying to open holes between our worlds, but she hasn't had much luck. One of the holes opened yesterday, but Aligore was the only one who got through before it closed again. He's a handy bloke to have in a scrape, but that doesn't mean you'll be safe, not even with him around. You might be on your own a few times. So...if you think you're in danger, even if there's a chance of danger, you need to run. Got that? Just turn and run."

          "Oh," Jonah said, nodding a bit. Then he frowned. "What?"

          Tom sighed. "I can't explain it too much, because we're still not sure ourselves. There are holes opening up between our worlds. We sent Aligore through one of 'em, but we don't know what else got through. The Sorceress can make holes, too--at least, we think she can--and we don't know if she has sent anything yet."

          "The...Sorceress?"

          "Don't have time to get into it all now, but the Sorceress is very bad news. She's read all the prophecies, which means that if we're looking for you, she's probably looking twice as hard. Hopefully, if she sent anything through, it'll turn out to be a monster."

          "Hopefully it'll be a monster? Why do you hope that?"  

          "Because there are worse things than monsters," Tom said. His expression was grim. "Listen, time is running out. Just remember what I said, Jonah. If you see anything strange or dangerous, just run as fast as you can. As soon as we figure out how to work the holes, we'll be there to help. Until then, you'll have Aligore."

          "And Yap will come, too!" declared a voice from the trees above them.

          "And Yap will not come with us, because we hate him," the Dwarf said firmly. "Anyway, the magic is running out. We're being pulled away." He held up his stubby hands and wiggled his fingers, which had become halfway transparent, the fingertips fading away into nothingness. Jonah's stomach gave a sudden lurch. That's something I could have done without seeing, he thought.

          "Don't forget what I told you. Be careful."

          Jonah shrugged. It was the best he could manage.

          Tom grinned. "Good luck, boy. Hope you're still alive when we get there."

          "Yap!" The gnome fell out of the tree where he had been hiding, landing on his face. He sat up and flashed a rather stupid smile at Jonah. "Don't forget to worship the Yap," the creature chirped. "Mighty Yap demands your obedience."

          Tom was just aiming another severe blow at Yap's head when they both abruptly vanished, along with everything else. For a brief, nauseating moment Jonah was alone in complete darkness, then the blurry outline of his bedroom sprang into focus. He was back.

          Pop. Pop. Pop.

          Not again, he thought.

          Three small eggs had appeared on the floor of his bedroom. The eggs grew, then shattered. A trio of baby birds stared up at him. A moment later, the birds were no longer tiny, standing almost as high as his kneecaps. A moment after that, the chicks had become fully grown penguins. One of the penguins was holding a clipboard.

          And somehow, Jonah wasn't even surprised.

          "I really am insane, aren't I?" he said softly. "I mean, this isn't even a little crazy, like having conversations with your cats or just eating vegetables. This is seriously crazy."

          The penguins ignored him, peering down at the clipboard held by the largest penguin. They stared at the clipboard, then at Jonah, then back at the clipboard.

          "Guess dis is da Anomaly, eh?" one of the penguins said at last.

          Jonah sat down on the bed and massaged his temples.

          "Hard t' say," the largest penguin squawked. "Dese temp'ral directions ain't too precise, ya know."

          The third penguin held up a complicated silver gyroscope and twisted a few levers. The gyroscope made a faint humming noise. "Magic wuz def'nitely performed in dis room not too long ago," it announced.

          "Hmm. Would ya consider dat conclusive, Norm?"

          The large penguin named Norm stared at Jonah critically. "We need ta make sure. Hey, kid! Are youse da Anomaly?"

          "Sure," Jonah said helplessly. "Why not?"

          The penguins seemed pleased by this news. "Well, dat was easy," one of them remarked.

          Norm took a waddling step toward him. "If ya don't mind, Mr. Anomaly, could ya not destroy da universe?"

          Jonah looked at him blankly.

          Norm glanced at the other penguins for help. "Ya know...da universe? Evvyting in existence? Would ya mind not destroying all o' dat?"

          "I'll try really, really hard not to destroy the universe," Jonah told the penguins solemnly.

          This seemed to please them, and they squawked excitedly to each other in penguin-speech for some time. Finally Norm turned back to Jonah. "Thank ya, Mr. Anomaly," he said in a formal voice.

          "No problem," Jonah answered. "Can I go to bed now? I think I'm going insane."      

          "Sure, sure." Norm turned to the other penguins. "Drinks 're on me, boys!"

          The penguins shimmered for a moment, and then they began to shrink. In a matter of seconds, they were chicks again. Shards of eggshell leaped into place around them, piece by piece, until the three eggs were whole again. The eggs shrunk out of sight and vanished with a trio of tiny, breathless pops.

          Jonah stared at the floor for what seemed like a very long time, thinking morbid thoughts about white rooms with padded walls and plastic utensils.                

          Later in the night, a driving rain that seemed to be headbutting the orphanage awakened Jonah. He crawled out of bed and went to the window. A brief flare of lightning illuminated the night sky. Something was scaling the orphanage wall. He caught a quick glimpse of an enormous dark body with glowing yellow eyes, twin lanterns in the deep, but then the world was plunged back into night. Jonah waited, dizzy with anticipation, but the next crack of lightning showed the usual boring brown walls and nothing more. He must have imagined the creature. He went back to bed, and like every human who sees something utterly inexplicable, he promptly forgot all about it.

          The next morning, his dreams seemed ridiculous. The chore sheet in the hallway informed him that it was his turn to clean every bathroom in the orphanage, a depressing fact that seemed much more important than Tom, Yap, and the rest of the imaginary characters from the night before.

          It had been a stupid dream anyway, he decided.

CHAPTER TWO:

THE SLUG IN THE SUPERMARKET

            Time flowed, as it likes to do when nobody is watching, and Jonah continued the honorable Peterbilt tradition of backbreaking manual labor...cleaning bathrooms, pulling weeds, scrubbing windows, mopping floors, and trying to hide from Ms. Crew, the orphanage's beastly headmistress.

          Ms. Crew was something of a monster to the children...a bow-legged, beady-eyed old spinster who had apparently decided to work with children because she hated them all with such a violent passion. Lately she had been particularly ruthless in administering chores. Little Wilbur Whartham, for example, dropped his breakfast tray one morning and was promptly assigned the task of clearing out the wasp nests in the attic. Jonah had seen Wilbur coming out of the infirmary, his face puffy in some places and lumpy in others. The entire orphanage was tense, waiting for the next punishment to be delivered.

          It was a bright and pleasant Wednesday afternoon, which meant Jonah was stuck in the bowels of the orphanage's kitchen, elbow-deep in foul dishwater. To make matters worse, Sally had been assigned to help him. It was Sally's fault they were being punished, this was an indisputable fact. If she hadn't accused him of stealing candy from her room--and really, it had only been a single sucker; how had she even noticed it was gone?--they wouldn't have gotten into a scuffling match in plain view of Ms. Crew. So it was definitely Sally's fault. I'm keeping that sucker, Jonah thought grimly. See if I don't.

          Worst of all, Sally was whistling. She had been whistling the same tune for what seemed like hours-- like a stupid parakeet, he thought--and there was simply no reason to be so cheerful during chores.

          "Listen, do you have to do that?"

          "Do what?"

          "Whistle that same song over and over again. It's annoying."

          She gave him a wicked grin and launched into a particularly loud rendition of the song, complete with an impromptu shuffling dance.

          Jonah was debating which would be a better object to throw at her--the wooden spoon was harder, but the sponge was gooshier--when the kitchen door flew open and Mrs. Motts bustled in. She was carrying an armful of cooking ingredients.

          "Hello, Mrs. Motts," they chimed. Mrs. Motts was one of the few adults in the orphanage who was genuinely liked by all of the children. This might have been because she was a large, sunny woman who always seemed to be smiling, but it probably also had something to do with the handfuls of sweets she was constantly distributing.

          "Morning, kids. Care for a treat?" They nodded and she dug in one of the many pockets of her apron until she produced two large suckers, which they took gratefully. Sally eyed Jonah's sucker, giving him a Now-you've-got-two-suckers-and-one-of-them-is-mine look that could have shattered glass. He smiled at her sweetly. She could prove nothing.

          Mrs. Motts clucked sadly. "Looks like Ms. Crew's got you scrubbing my kitchen, hmm? Well, I'm sorry it's such a wretched job, but it's been needing a good scrubbing for ages. Tell you what, once I get dinner simmering, I'll help you finish up."

          She quickly set to work, chopping vegetables into little mangled bits and depositing the mess into a huge steel pot. The children scrubbed in silence. Several minutes later, Mrs. Motts slapped a hand against one of her considerable hips, looking angry. "I don't believe it! Out of pepper! And I just made a trip to the supermarket!"

          "I'll go!" Jonah and Sally volunteered at the same time. They shot venomous looks at each other; neither wanted to be stuck scrubbing the kitchen while the other got to run an errand downtown, an adventure with nearly unlimited goof-off potential.

          "Would you, children? You can both go. It'll give you a break from scrubbing." She dug in her apron and pulled out a few wrinkled bills. "Better get three containers, just to be safe. And come straight home! It'll be dark soon."

*        *          *

          The automatic doors hissed open and Jonah inhaled deeply. He loved the supermarket. He loved the calm yellow glow of the fluorescent lights and the endless rows of mouthwatering sweets and treats. He loved the smells…the hint of smoked sausage from the aisle vendors, the rich smell of dark chocolate from the candy aisle, and the warm, comforting smell of rising bread in the bakery. Most of all, he loved the comic books. They were his addiction.

          "What are you doing?" Sally stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

          "Nothing," he said quickly.

          "You were sniffing."

          "Wasn't."

          "Like a dog."

          "Shut up, Sally."

          She fetched a shopping cart almost twice her size and wrestled it past the checkout lanes. She stopped and scanned the display signs hanging above each aisle, muttering, "Pepper...let's see. Hmm. Is pepper a spice or a seasoning?"

          "I really don't care. Listen, you go find the pepper, and I'll meet you by the front of the store, okay?"

          "Where are you going?"

          "To check the comics."

          She frowned. "Mrs. Motts told us to come right back. No dawdling."

          "I'm not dawdling. Dawdling would mean spending extra time, and I'll be done by the time you find the pepper. Promise." He turned and hurried off. Sally stared after him, giving him a withering look that suggested she thought boys really were much more immature than girls.

          This was a statement Jonah would have cheerfully agreed with. He grabbed a Spider-Man comic off the rack and tore into the story.

          He finished the issue and carefully slid it back into place on the spinning rack. It had been a pretty good one, but most Spidey comics were. Jonah's only real ambition in life was to somehow become rich enough to buy every issue of Spider-Man ever made, which seemed like a relatively noble goal. The only other new comic on the rack was a Batman story. Batman wasn't quite as cool as Spider-Man, but he was still pretty good. Jonah had just made it past the first splash page when the screaming began.

          He paused, curious but not afraid. What possible reason was there for screaming in a supermarket? His imagination promptly blasted off, already miles ahead of his brain, conjuring up images of vicious lobsters escaping from their tanks in the seafood section and scuttling down the aisles, nipping fat women's heels and chasing store clerks. Yes, that was definitely it. Renegade lobsters. It could be nothing else. Thrilled by this prospect, Jonah dropped the comic and hurried off to watch.

          Shoppers of all shapes and sizes were sprinting out of the store, their eyes wide and frightened. A fat man raced past Jonah with a shopping cart that was somehow melting, leaving a glittering trail of molten steel in its wake. The cart let out a metallic squeal and collapsed into a sizzling heap. The fat man abandoned it without a second glance and sprinted for the door, leaving the giant blob of steel popping and hissing against the linoleum floor.

          "Ladies and gentlemen," a officious voice began over the loudspeaker, "we ask that you please exit the store in an orderly manner. There is nothing to worry about, so if you would please...Sweet Juicy Zeus, would you LOOK at that thing! It's coming right at us! Run, folks! Oh, mother of mercy, RUN!"

          Everybody panicked. Shoppers rushed for the door, bowling each other out of the way. Jonah saw a fat woman in a flower-print dress mow down a hapless store clerk, who lay on the floor bellowing that he was going to sue, just see if he didn't! It was utter chaos.

          There must be an awful lot of lobsters on the loose, Jonah thought, but he was uneasy. The crowd seemed a little too frightened for something as ordinary as a horde of rampaging lobsters. And what had melted that shopping cart?

          He glanced around the corner of the nearest aisle and froze. The blood drained from his face. His mouth moved, but no words came out.

          It was a slug. But calling the creature in the middle of the aisle a slug was like saying that Godzilla was simply an antisocial lizard...it was true, but not necessarily the whole truth. This particular slug stood eight feet high and was at least twenty feet from oozing tip to greasy tail. Its skin was the color of snot, translucent green with flecks of pale brown and dripping with a silver coating of slime. The monster's eyes rolled wildly on two long stalks, each black orb the size of an evil baseball. For no good reason whatsoever, it cocked its head back and vomited a spray of steaming acid all over a Mrs. Tastytreats frozen dinner display. The dinners sizzled as they melted away into a puddle of slime, cardboard, and awful food.

          "Haugh-haugh!" the slug boomed. It seemed pleased with itself. Another frozen dinner menace defeated.

          Its body heaved as it swung itself around. Jonah heard the creature let out an annoyed grunt as it batted an abandoned shopping cart out of its path. The cart clattered down the aisle, wheels over end, coming to a rest next to Jonah. He swallowed hard and took a careful step back.

          The slug's eye-stalks suddenly snapped to attention, and both eyes swiveled in his direction. Jonah froze. The slug blinked twice. Its huge mouth dripped open, and the creature let out a wet, rumbling chuckle that sounded a little bit like: "Chaaaaahhhnaaaaaah..." It wasn't his name, not exactly, but it was close.

          These are certain moments that tend to ruin your entire day. Finding a monstrous, acid-spitting slug the size of a baby whale that somehow knows your name in the middle of your neighborhood supermarket is one of those moments.

          The slug started in his direction. Despite its bulk, the creature moved with alarming speed, sliding along atop a steady stream of slippery ooze that dripped from its belly. Twin pinpricks of red light flashed briefly in its eyes.

          Jonah turned and ran. Acting more on instinct than anything else, he suddenly broke hard to the right. An instant later he felt something hot and stinking rush past his left temple. The slug was spitting at him, he realized with more than a little disgust. The blast of slug-acid slapped against a row of overpriced energy drinks, sending a spray of colored water sloshing across the floor. Jonah leaped over the mess and continued running.

          The supermarket was almost deserted. He caught a glimpse of one final customer busy filling her purse with free samples of money from the nearest open cash register. The customer let out a startled squeak when she saw the slug. Her purse clattered to the floor and she raced out of the building, screaming at the top of her lungs. The automatic doors slid shut behind her. Jonah started after the woman, then paused.

          Sally. She might still be in the supermarket. In fact, considering how stupidly pig-headed the girl could be, she probably was. And while he normally would have paid good money to watch a giant monster devour Sally, this was different. This was real.

          There was another loud hiss. Jonah turned just in time to see another glob of acid flying toward him. He dropped to his knees, wincing at the acid's sour stink as it shot by overhead. If that stuff touches me, I'll wind up a lot shorter, he thought.

          So leave her, a nasty little voice whispered from the back of his mind. Leave Sally and get out of here. She would leave you if the tables were turned. Jonah hated that cowardly little voice. Even worse, he hated the fact that its words made sense. Sally would leave him behind if their roles were reversed. Nobody would blame him for running. It was the only sensible thing to do.

          The slug roared and lunged at him. Jonah danced backwards and its jaws slammed shut with a squelching slap. It stared at him with furious, hungry eyes.

          Then again...Spider-Man wouldn't leave someone in danger, not even someone as supremely annoying as Sally. Spider-Man would do the right thing. He would save the day.      

          But Spider-Man has super powers! the cowardly little voice protested. You're just a kid! You can't do anything!

          The air around Jonah suddenly crackled. He felt his hair standing on end, bristling with static electricity, and he realized that maybe that wasn't really true. Sure, he didn't have the proportionate speed and strength of a spider, but maybe he could do other things. Different things. Frightening things.

          Maybe.

          "[Don't make any sudden moves,]" the slug told him. Since it was speaking in Sluggese, however, all Jonah heard was, "Gluurp, gluub, gluum!"

          Jonah turned and ran.

          "Glommer," the slug groaned, which is a word that really shouldn't be translated in any language.

*        *          *

          Sally took another bite of cereal.

          She was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the back of the supermarket, eating sugar cereal and waiting for the adults to return. Everyone had gone dashing off several minutes ago, screaming and babbling about something or another. She would have followed them, but she had wanted to find the pepper first. Sally took errands very seriously. After she had finally found the pepper, however, she had begun to grow nervous.

          The store was silent.

          At first she had assumed there was merely some sort of sale that had made the other shoppers scream and rush off. She had seen a television commercial once where all the adults had started jumping and screaming because some useless pasta mix was twenty percent off. Grown-ups could act stupid when it came to sales, she knew that. But now, looking around the deserted supermarket, she began to wonder if maybe something was wrong. There had been a loudspeaker announcement during the chaos, but the store had been too noisy to make out the words.

          Could there be a fire in the store? No, she couldn't see any smoke. Maybe there was a robber. That would be exciting, she thought. And if the store was being robbed, she didn't plan on going anywhere near the front of the store, where the cash registers were located. No, the sugar cereal aisle was a much safer place to hide. She popped another handful of cereal into her mouth and chewed nervously. She hadn't eaten sugar cereal in almost two years, not since her last miserable batch of foster parents had returned her to the orphanage. She had almost forgotten how great a mouthful of pure, crunchy sugar could taste.

          There was a loud crashing noise from somewhere in the supermarket. It sounded close.

          She got to her feet, wiping her hands on her uniform. "Hello? Anybody there?"

          There was no response.

          "Huh." She waited for a moment, then reached for another box of cereal.

          The end of the aisle suddenly exploded, sending plastic shelves and a shower of defeated cereal flying through the air. A figure tumbled to the floor and lay still. It was Jonah. Sally dashed toward him, her heart pounding. What was going on? She had seen bullies pick on Jonah before, but she had never seen bullies who tossed other children through a row of supermarket shelves. Faint wisps of smoke were rising from Jonah's body...had he been burned? He's dead, Sally thought. No kid could survive getting hit like that.

          But she was wrong. Jonah was already sitting up by the time she reached his side. His expression was dazed, and his left eye was quickly swelling shut. Every hair on his head spiked straight up. "Izzit dead?" he mumbled. He sounded lost.

          "Is what dead?"

          "Slug hit me. Something exploded. I dunno...maybe me. Hurt bad."

          He's delirious, she thought.

          Something growled. It sounded close, whatever it was.

          "Come on," she whispered. She grabbed Jonah's hand, meaning to jerk him to his feet. There was a sharp crack of static electricity, and she wrenched her hand back with a cry. She had been shocked before, but this had been different. If a normal static shock was like a mosquito bite, this was like being bit by a mosquito driving a garbage truck at top speed. Her entire arm felt numb and rubbery. With fascinated horror, she saw that the tips of her fingers were smoking.

          "Don't touch me," Jonah said, his voice emotionless. "There's still some left in me." He stood up gingerly, wincing a bit.

          "Some what left in you?" she asked, massaging her throbbing hand. He didn't answer.

          There was another loud growl, and Sally glanced over her shoulder. It felt like reality itself was crumbling; the world she knew spluttered and died before her eyes. There was a something oozing through the hole in the supermarket aisle, a massive green and brown glob of pale slime that simply couldn't exist, simply couldn't be real. It chuckled and chittered as it slid through the narrow gap. Cereal crunched beneath its body, popping like tiny gunshots. It lunged forward, its mouth open

          "Run!" Jonah cried, stumbling past her. She followed, hearing the monster's mouth slam shut behind her. It made a sound like wet meat being dropped on concrete.

          "What...what is that thing?" she asked.

          "Slug," Jonah said without looking back, as if this explained everything. Maybe it did.

          They reached the back wall of the supermarket and Jonah paused, glancing around. "We've gotta get out of here," he panted. She nodded, and they ran again, parallel along the back wall.

          The slug roared in anger. Perhaps it realized that its prey was outflanking it, or perhaps it simply enjoyed destroying things. Whatever the reason, it lunged directly through the row of shelves dividing the two aisles. It was belching a constant stream of acid, melting its way through each aisle divider as it charged. Burning food flew through the air.

          "Faster!" Jonah screamed.

          It was no use. The slug was matching their pace, tearing through each aisle with casual ease. It was herding them towards the back corner of the store, slowly but surely boxing them into a dead end.

          "Wait!" Sally suddenly cried, pausing at aisle four. She darted down the aisle, frantically scanning the rows. This had been where she had found the pepper earlier. And next to the pepper, there had been an entire row of...

          The supermarket rumbled. Canned spices rattled and tumbled to the floor. An instant later the shelves hissed and crumpled as the slug's acid ate through them from the next aisle over. She could hear the slug gurgling laughter.

          ...Salt.

          She grabbed a package of salt from the shelf. Behind her, the spice row disintegrated and the slug barged through the opening, scattering tiny plastic containers in every direction.

          Jonah was yelling something, his voice frightened, but the slug's roar drowned out his words. It towered over her.

          Sally threw the salt as hard as she could. The slug instinctively reared back and its jaws slammed shut on the package, which exploded in a pale spray. The result was instantaneous. The slug's body spasmed, and it let out a low, watery scream. The salt bubbled and hissed in its mouth, building to a thick, white foam.

          She grabbed another package of salt and threw it at the slug. This one bounced off the creature's head harmlessly, but the next package she threw exploded. White blisters appeared on the slug's head, bubbling and oozing.

          Blind with pain, the slug lunged forward, roaring. Sally darted away, and the slug collided with nothing but another row of shelves. It collapsed to the ground with a low wheeze.

          "Is it dead?" Jonah asked softly.

          The slug groaned, and its body trembled. There was a loud glurp as its head fell off, landing in a pile of green foam.

          "Yup," Sally said.

          Jonah nodded mutely. He turned and made his way back down the aisle, stumbling a bit. Sally followed behind, ready to catch Jonah if he fell. Frankly, she couldn't believe that Jonah was still alive, much less walking around. Something had hit him with enough electricity to power a small town...by all rights, he should have been a boy-sized pile of ashes.

          For that matter, she couldn't believe she was still alive, either.

          Something hissed from behind them.

          Four eye-stalks were poking out of the slug's headless body. Two sets of eyes stared at the children furiously. The slug's body shuddered, and there was a tearing noise.

          "You've gotta be kidding me," Jonah whispered.

          The slug ripped itself in half in a shower of slime. Where there had once been one slug, now there were two. The new sluggettes were half the size of the original, and they were both jiggling with rage. The sluggettes howled like rabid coyotes. They seemed just as fond of making inappropriate sound effects as their predecessor. Sluggese is not a melodic language.

          Jonah and Sally turned and ran.

          One of the sluggettes gave chase along the ground, slithering along on a slimetrail, but the other leaped straight up into the air, landing on top of the next aisle divider with a wet thud. The airborne sluggette hissed, then lunged again.

          "Slugs don't bounce!" Sally muttered, feeling rather offended. The monsters were cheating.

          The airborne sluggette landed on the aisle divider right next to them, belching a stream of acid as it came crashing down. The acid splashed harmlessly between the children. Sally fell back with a cry. The sluggette on the aisle divider launched at them.

          Jonah grabbed a nearby shopping cart, still half-filled with items, and sent the cart flying toward Sally. "Look out!" he yelled.

          She dodged to the side, barely avoiding the cart. The airborne sluggette wasn't so lucky. It splashed down into the shopping cart, splattering mucus in every direction. The other sluggette roared around the corner and came streaking toward the children, gibbering madly. Jonah grabbed the handlebars, avoiding the sluggette-in-the-cart's snapping jaws, and shoved the cart as hard as he could. The other sluggette saw the speeding cart coming, but when you travel on a slippery layer of belly slime, it's difficult to stop on a dime. It slid sideways, humping its body furiously in an attempt to escape, but the shopping cart smashed into the sluggette, easily cutting the creature into two neat segments and sending the sluggette-in-the-cart flying through the air.

          "What are you doing?" Sally cried. "You're making more of the stupid things!"

          "Shut up, Sally." Jonah grabbed her hand and dragged her through the nearest set of swinging doors. Cold air slapped their faces, and they stopped short. Racks of pink meat stretched out before them, ghostly and silent in dim light.

          "It's the meat freezer," Jonah said.

          "Not a good place to be," Sally said, glancing around.

          "Uh-uh."

          One of the sluggettes let out a chittering bark on the other side of the swinging door, and Jonah grabbed Sally's hand again and pulled her out of sight. A moment later, the door banged open. The large sluggette from the shopping cart oozed through the doorway, followed by two mini-sluggettes, each the size of something that a very sick elephant might cough up.

          They were trapped.

*        *          *

          The monsters paused in the center of the room, peering about.

          "[They came in here,]" the largest sluggette growled in Sluggese.

          "[Ooh! Meat!]" one of the mini-sluggettes squealed happily, eyeing the rows of cooling cowflesh.

          "[No meat,]" the large sluggette barked. "[We've got a job to do.]"

          "[But meat is delicious! Maybe just a bite? A morsel?]"

          "[No means no.]"

          "[I hate you so much,]" the mini-sluggette complained.

          "[You don't really mean that.]" The large sluggette sounded wounded.

          "[I do. I hate you and I wish you were dead.]"

          "[I don't know why you say things just to hurt my feelings.]"

          "[Go lick salt,]" the mini-sluggette said, inching its way over to the nearest rack of cold cuts. It nudged the plastic sheet aside and peered inside the meat locker, muttering something about how it would eat whatever it felt like eating, thank you very much. It sniffed a haunch of beef and drew back, coughing. "[Salt preservatives. Stupid humans.]"

          "[You use your words as a weapon,]" the large sluggette persisted. "[I don't appreciate that.]"

          "[I can't take all this fighting!]" the other mini-sluggette bawled.

          "[We're gonna be in so much trouble,]" the large sluggette moaned. "[We were just supposed to catch the boy, not shoot acid at him and chase him all around the building!]"

          "[Not my fault,]" the mini-sluggette growled, sniffing a hunk of turkey morosely. "[I didn't spit any acid.]"

          "[Did so.]"

          "[You can't prove that.]"

          "[You were part of me! We were all spitting acid!]"

          "[Wasn't.]"

          "[I tried to stop you both from hurting the boy,]" the smallest mini-sluggette insisted. "[I said, Mr. Jonah Boy, please stop right now or I'll fire a warning shot of acid over your shoulder. And did he listen to me? No, he did not. And that's when the two of you started acting like acid-happy morons...]"

          "[That's a filthy lie. You've been honking up acid ever since we arrived here. Hey, guys, watch me melt this tree! Hey, guys, watch me melt this cat! Why, if anybody was squirting acid at the boy, it was you.]"

          "[You have blame issues.]"

          "[You have stupidity issues.]"

          "[Will you two quit bickering and focus on the problem here? The Red Knight is going to squish us all!]" the large sluggette wailed unhappily. Sobbing, the creature whirled around. Its tail flicked against a meat locker covered with a thick layer of plastic. The plastic sheet slowly slid to the floor, exposing Jonah and Sally stuffed inside the locker.

          Jonah grinned weakly. "Oops," he said.

          And, naturally, the Sluggese translation for oops is: "[You will never take me alive, you odiferous fools!]" In retrospect, it was probably the wrong thing to say.

*        *          *

          The large sluggette lunged forward. Sally grabbed the plastic sheet and threw it over the monster's face. Blinded, it slithered around the room wildly, bellowing and snorting. The children leaped out of the meat locker. One of the mini-sluggettes darted at them from the side, but Jonah kicked the gooey creature and sent it skidding across the floor.

          Disoriented and exhausted, Jonah had lost all sense of direction. Where was the front of the store? He pulled Sally through a set of swinging doors, knowing they were as good as dead if he had led them into a closet.

          It wasn't a closet, but it wasn't the front of the store, either. They were in a long, narrow stone corridor that stretched the length of the supermarket. Near the end of the corridor, Jonah could see a bright red EMERGENCY EXIT sign.

          The sluggettes burst through the door behind them. The largest sluggette let out a ferocious roar.

          "Don't look back!" Jonah cried. "Just run!"

          Sally took his advice, sprinting past him down the corridor, easily outdistancing him. "Not...that fast..." he panted, hurrying after her. His legs felt like rubber bands. His initial blast of adrenaline was quickly wearing off, and he didn't know how much longer he would be able to hold this pace. Sooner or later, the slugs were going to catch him.

          Sally reached the emergency exit first and threw the deadbolt. Jonah reached the door a moment later, slamming into it with his shoulder. The children spilled out into the alley behind the supermarket. Jonah's forehead cracked against the concrete, and blinding hot pain danced across his eyelids. From somewhere inside the store, an alarm began to blare.

          Sally turned and saw the largest sluggette standing in the doorway. If a slug could possibly manage to look surprised, this one certainly did. Its body tensed, preparing to lunge, and then Sally had flung herself against the metal door, slamming it shut. There was a soft click as the door automatically locked, and the alarm died. 

          Jonah sat up, holding his head. The blow to his forehead had knocked him senseless, and he felt stupid and punch-drunk. "Wass happen?" he slurred. "We dead?"

          "No," Sally panted. "They're locked inside."

          Jonah rubbed his eyes, then nodded. "Good," he said simply.

          "What were those things?" she asked. "I mean, they were monsters, right? Like something out of a horror movie?"

          "Yeah, I think so."

          There was a wailing roar from the other side of the door. The slugs were restless.

          "Stupid slugs," Sally muttered.

          As if in response, the metal door began to spark and sizzle. Steam rose from a patch of glowing orange steel in the center of the frame. The metal oozed and dripped. Sally yelped and leaped back. "What's going on?" she cried.

          Jonah stumbled to his feet. "They're burning through the door."

          "They can do that?"

          Jonah didn't bother answering. He was already hurrying down the alley, moving with awkward, lurching strides. Sally dashed after him, her feet splashing through puddles and kicking up piles of grimy trash. Behind her, the door splintered apart with a horrible squeal of ruined metal.

*        *          *

          He couldn't run any longer. His head was still spinning and his lungs screamed for air. Whatever had happened to him in the supermarket--it had felt like exploding, like his entire body was tearing itself apart--had sapped all of his energy. Pure adrenaline had kept him moving for the last several minutes, but now even that was gone. The world swam in front of his eyes, and he dimly realized he was on the verge of passing out. He fell.

          Sally ran a few more paces before realizing she was alone. Jonah was wearily struggling to his feet, but he could hear the sluggettes closing in on them, barking and hooting in their ridiculous language. Sally darted back and threw one of Jonah's arms over her shoulder. He was a year older and outweighed her by several pounds, but she managed to hoist him to his feet and drag him toward the end of the alley.

          It was no use...he couldn't run. He couldn't think. He couldn't stay awake. Even the thought of bloody death-by-slug wasn't enough to keep his legs moving. He felt like curling up and taking a nap. Maybe forever.

          "What's wrong with you?" Sally huffed. "Come on, you idiot, RUN!"

          Jonah glanced over his shoulder and saw that the largest sluggette was now merely a few yards away. Its mouth swung open. Its eyes blazed with red fire.

          Jonah turned back just in time to catch a glimpse of something huge dropping down toward them, a creature with gigantic yellow eyes, flashing teeth, and four terrible sets of bared claws.

          Great, he thought numbly. More monsters.

          "Down!" Sally shouted, dragging Jonah to his knees. 

          The creature swept past them, missing their heads by inches, and they heard a muted splut as it collided with the largest sluggette. Something screamed in the darkness. Without a backward glance, the children got to their feet and stumbled the length of the alley, finally emerging onto a crowded city street.

          A barrage of police cars were parked in front of the supermarket, their bubble lights blazing. An officer with a loudspeaker was yelling into the store for somebody, anybody, to come out with their hands up. Several photographers hovered behind the cops, snapping pictures as quickly as they could. In the pandemonium, nobody noticed the two frightened children emerge from the nearby alley.

          Jonah limped over to the nearest park bench and sat down heavily. He felt like the world was underwater...the sounds all muffled, the characters in front of the supermarket moving in dreary slow motion. It all seemed very far away and unimportant.

          Sally sat down and immediately began to fire off questions. "Should we tell somebody? But what if we tell the police and they go in the alley and get eaten by those rotten things? Oh, but what were they, anyway? Things like that aren't supposed to exist, right? But didn't they seem real? Do you think this nasty slug-slime will come out of my clothes? It kinda looks like snot, doesn't it? Gross. Should we go talk to those cops? Do you think we might be famous after this?" She paused for breath and glanced over at Jonah.

          He was fast asleep.

CHAPTER THREE:

YAP

          "Are you insane?" Sally snapped.

          "No, I'm serious," Jonah said firmly. "We can't tell anybody what happened in there." 

          "But why not?"

          He frowned. Conflicting feelings were jostling through his mind like fat people fighting for position in a buffet line. "This is something that adults won't understand," he finally said. "I mean, grown-ups are fairly useless, you know."

          Sally nodded instantly.

          Jonah glanced around, making sure the street was deserted. If anybody--or anything--was following them back to the orphanage, it was hiding itself well. He continued in a lower voice: "Adults would never believe a story like this. We'd probably get punished for lying. And even if they did believe us, they would just find a way to blame us for this whole mess. And then we would have to talk to the police, and we would be on the news..."

          "So?"

          "So do you really think anybody would want to adopt some kids who just helped a giant monster flatten an entire building? Especially kids like us?"

          He hadn't meant the question to sound so cruel. Sally did a poor job of hiding the hurt in her eyes, then she turned away and said nothing at all.

          Jonah instantly felt miserable. "Sorry."

          "S'okay."

          "So you've been sent back before, too, huh?"

          "Yeah." She shrugged, as if this didn't bother her. "Only twice, though."

          "How come?"

          "Both times they said they wanted a girl who didn't talk so much. Plus…I'm getting too old. People only want to adopt little kids who are still cute."

          "Oh." Jonah didn't know how to respond. Several hours ago, Sally had seemed like some annoying and possibly dangerous pod-creature hiding inside a human body. Now she didn't seem so bad--almost decent, really--and he suddenly felt sorry for her. It was all so unfair. The world would be a better place if the grown-ups weren't in charge of it, he decided.

          Sally glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "You don't have to lie to me, by the way. I can keep a secret."

          "What?"

          "The real reason you don't want to tell anybody what happened back there. You don't have to lie about it."

          He sighed. "Fine, I surrender. If you're so smart, what's the real reason?"

          "You're afraid they would call in the military or a bunch of scientists or something," said Sally. "That the government would take you to a secret lab somewhere and do nasty little tests on you."

          Jonah stared. Had the slug given Sally a concussion? She was speaking perfect English and managing to speak complete gibberish at the same time. "Tests...on me?" he repeated. "What are you talking about?"

          "You did something," she said simply. "Before I ever saw you or the slug, I heard an explosion. Something blew up and knocked you right through an entire row of shelves, hard enough to flatten a normal person. You should be dead, but you barely have a single scrape anywhere on your body! Well, it looks like you're getting a black eye, but still."

          "That slug-thing threw a shopping cart at me," said Jonah. His tongue felt dry and numb in his mouth.

          "Right. A magical, exploding shopping cart that suddenly turned you into the Amazing Electro-Boy."

          "What?"

          She groaned, as if he was very stupid for not following along. "You. Electric. Zap." She flapped her hands and made buzzing noises to illustrate her point.

          Jonah said nothing. His heart was beating quickly. If this was some kind of joke that only girls could appreciate, it was a lousy one.  

          "Listen," Sally continued, "when I tried to help you up, you almost fried my arm right off! Your entire body was pumping with electricity!" She waggled her fingers theatrically. "My arm is still kinda numb."

          "No," he said. "No, that never happened." He turned and hurried down the sidewalk. Sally was wrong. She had to be wrong.

          She jogged beside him, looking concerned. "Don't you remember any of this? You really don't remember the explosion? Or when you shocked me?"

           He shook his head, feeling miserable. His memories were a confusing swirl of colors and sounds. The slug had picked up a shopping cart, had hurled it at Jonah's head, there had been a flash...

          ...But was that all? Hadn't there been something else...a strange sense of strength that had washed over him while he was facing down the slug? Hadn't he felt powerful?

          No. He was just a kid. A normal, average, utterly unspectacular kid. A kid who didn't do well in school and wasn't very good looking and was too small to play sports and had never, ever exploded.

          "Maybe you need to go to the hospital..." Sally began.

          "I'm not a freak!" he burst out. His voice was shaking.

          "I didn't say you were," she replied coolly.

          "You're looking at me like I'm some kind of mutant. The kind with tentacles."

          "I'm not."

          Jonah sighed and turned away. He suddenly felt very small and weak and alone. It didn't seem fair...wasn't his life already complicated enough without adding monsters, genetic defects and strange dreams into the mixture? "I think I'm going insane," he muttered.

          Sally didn't seem surprised. "Yeah, I've felt like that before."

          He stared at the sidewalk and tried to ignore her.

          "Want to talk about it?" she pressed.

          "No. You'd think I'm crazy."

          She frowned. "But you just told me that you're crazy."

          "Ugh." He rubbed his forehead absently. "It's just...it's stupid. I had this weird dream a few nights ago, and one of the characters in the dream warned me that I was in danger. He said there were monsters after me. And now it turns out Tom was right..."

          "Tom?"

          "The Dwarf in my dream."

          "Ah. That kind of dream."

          "What's that supposed to mean?"

          She grinned. "Nothing. Go on with your story."

          Feeling flustered, he told her everything he could remember...the Yap Flowers, the two stupid Unicorns, Tom's dire warning, and the visit from the strange penguins with their tidy little clipboards. Sally listened intently, her expression serious. At the end of the story, she nodded. "Yeah, that is pretty weird," she agreed.

          "There was one more thing," Jonah said slowly, "but I'm not sure if it was part of the dream or not. Later that night, I think the storm woke me up. I went to the window, and I saw something crawling along the outside of the orphanage. It was big, and it had bright yellow eyes. It looked like the monster that tried to attack us in the alley."    

          "So you saw this something in a dream?"

          "Um...I think so. Yeah." He frowned. "Maybe not. It felt real at the time, but the next morning it felt like a dream."

          "Huh," said Sally. "Well, if it wasn't a dream--if you really did see that thing outside the building--then it's been following you."

          Jonah had come to the same conclusion. It wasn't a happy thought.

          "And why weren't the other whatchamacallits here tonight?" Sally continued. "The Dwarf and that Yap thing?"

          “Well, Tom said they weren't in our world yet. They were trying to get here, and...hey, wait a minute! You mean...you believe me?”

          She shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

          "Well...because it's stupid, that's why! Unicorns and Dwarves and gnomes and everything else!"

          "Didn't you see that slug?" she asked.

          "Yeah, of course, but that doesn't mean..."

          "Sure it does. If something that stupid can exist, there's no reason why any of that other stupid stuff can't exist, too!" She stamped her foot impatiently. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm trying to convince you that your dream was real!"

          Jonah didn't know what to say.

          Sally started walking again. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about that rotten slug any more. Every time I think about those burble burble burble sounds it was making, my entire back feels like it's scrunching up. Yuck. I'll probably never be able to sleep again, you know."

          "Fine. Let's talk about something else."

          They walked in silence for a while. Neither of them could think of any topics of conversation more interesting than giant, slimy, children-eating slugs.

*        *          *

          The entire Peterbilt staff was gathered around the orphanage's only television, watching a news broadcast intently. Mrs. Motts was the first to notice the children. She gave a loud cry, then bustled over and swept Jonah and Sally up into a crushing bear hug.

          "Thank goodness you're okay!" she sobbed. "Why, I was sure you were both dead! I would have never been able to forgive myself!"

          The children pried themselves from her embrace. "Hi, Mrs. Motts," Jonah said weakly.

          "And just because I needed pepper!" Mrs. Motts continued. "Pepper! Rotten, stinking pepper!"

          "Yeah, well, we're fine," Jonah said, distinctly aware that everyone in the room was staring at them.

          If Mrs. Motts heard him, she gave no indication. "Robbers in costumes, setting off explosives in our quiet little supermarket, and all I could think about were your poor little dead bodies, lying there in the rubble! In a pool of their own blood, isn't that what I said, Charlotte? I said, I'll just bet they're lying there in a grisly pool of their own blood, their brains hanging out of their precious little skulls..." The plump cook seemed terribly excited by the whole ordeal.

          "Robbers in costumes?" Sally said, frowning. "Is that what they're saying on the news?"

          "Of course," a cold voice said from behind them. Ms. Crew swept into view, her face stony. Unlike Mrs. Motts, she didn't seem particularly thrilled that Jonah and Sally were still alive. "Ridiculous alien costumes, judging from eyewitness accounts. You didn't see them?"

          "Oh, right," Jonah said quickly. "The robbers. Um...by the time we got to the market, the police had already sealed off the building. So we didn't actually see anything exciting." This was the lie Jonah and Sally had agreed upon. It seemed like the safest course of action.

          "We sent Ms. Clark to search for you in the car, and she called back and said she couldn't find you, and I thought I was just going to die!" Mrs. Motts continued in a rush. She flapped her hands in front of her face, gasping for breath.

          "We're fine." Jonah repeated stubbornly.

          Ms. Crew stared at him. "Your uniform is filthy." She glanced at Sally and sneered. "Both of your uniforms. And the boy..."

          "He has a name!" Sally protested.

          "...The boy has a black eye," Ms. Crew finished, her voice dripping ice. "Quite a mess for two children who didn't see anything...how did you put it? Exciting?" Her eyes narrowed. "Care to tell me what really happened?"

          Jonah felt panic fluttering in his chest. He gave Sally a desperate look. What should we do?

          "Maybe this isn't the best time...?" Mrs. Motts offered lamely.

          Ms. Crew gave her a withering glare, and the cook drew away, mumbling apologies. Ms. Crew turned back to the children. Her lips curled in an unpleasant little scar that might have passed for a smile in a very dark room. "You can either tell me the truth, or you can tell it to the police. I won't stand for my children engaging in illegal activities. I won't stand for scandal."

          "But..." Jonah began.

          Ms. Crew bent down over him, close enough that he could smell the tuna fish sandwich she had eaten for dinner. Her upper lip was covered with tiny gray whiskers that shook when she spoke. "Do you know what Juvenile Detention is like?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft. "Do you know what type of boys live in Juvenile? They are mean boys. Hurtful boys. Violent boys. Do you want to be sent to live with boys like that?"

          "N-no," Jonah stammered.

          Ms. Crew gave that horrible half-smile again. She ran her long, pale tongue across the front of her teeth, quick and lizard-like. "Then I would suggest you tell me exactly what happened tonight."

          "Jonah fell down!" Sally cried.

          Ms. Crew raised an eyebrow.

          "It's true!" Sally persisted. "He fell into a puddle and hit his head. When I tried to help him up, I got dirty, too."

          Ms. Crew's iron gaze swung back around and fixed on Jonah. "Is this true?"

          "No," Jonah said.

          Sally shot him a frantic, what-are-you-doing-you-great-dummy? look. Jonah ignored her. He had a better story. "I didn't fall. Sally's just trying to make me look clumsy. I was pushed."

          "Pushed?"

          "By a photographer from the newspaper. They were running all over the place, and one of them bumped into me and knocked me into the street. I hit my head. It hurt." As if to prove this, Jonah rubbed his forehead and winced theatrically.

          "Oh, you poor dear!" Mrs. Motts exclaimed.

          Ms. Crew sniffed loudly. "And you expect me to believe this story?"

          "Of course not," Sally shot back. "You never believe anything we say."

          Ms. Crew glared at the girl, no doubt trying to think of a particularly brutal punishment to bestow. They were saved, however, by a lucky coincidence. One of the adults near the television suddenly exclaimed, "Hey, they're interviewing the supermarket manager!" The orphanage staff crowded around the television, eager to hear all the gory details. Ms. Crew gave the children a dismissive wave. "I'll decide what to do with you brats tomorrow. Get out of here while I'm still in a good mood."

          "What about dinner?" Sally asked.

          "It was delicious," Ms. Crew said. Her teeth gleamed silver in the pale light. "Too bad you couldn't enjoy it. I'm sure your hunger will make tomorrow's breakfast taste especially good, though." She turned away and hurried over to the television.

          Jonah was tempted to linger behind. He was desperately curious to hear the news broadcast--Had the police found any of the creatures from the alley? And were they really stupid enough to believe the slug-creatures had been robbers in costumes?--but Sally grabbed his wrist and dragged him away.

          From the shadows in the corner of the room, a large pair of eyes watched the children go. The eyes blinked and vanished, leaving only darkness behind.

*        *          *

          By the time Jonah got out of the shower, a rumor had already spread throughout the orphanage that he and Sally had survived some sort of horrific, bloody robbery attempt, and Jonah found he had become something of a local celebrity. Several children stopped by his room, pressing him for the full story, but he certainly couldn't tell the truth, and he was too tired to lie. He finally shut his door, hoping for some peace and quiet.

          He picked up his faded green tennis ball and cocked his arm back, aiming at the bedroom wall. Then he paused. He didn't feel like tormenting Sally, at least not tonight. He dropped the ball and crawled into bed.

          His eyelids soon began to sag. He was still exhausted from...well, what had happened to him in the supermarket? Sally had mentioned an explosion, but that didn't match up with what he remembered…his hair standing on end…the shopping cart flying through the air toward him…everything becoming white…there was a dry buzzing noise, and a strange sensation of movement, as if his skeleton had been trying to leap from his skin and go streaking across the room. He had never felt anything like it before.

          Except, a tiny voice in the back of his mind insisted, maybe he had. But that was ridiculous; he would remember shooting electricity from his body! It wasn't the sort of experience that someone--especially a comic book fan--would forget.

          Then why did it seem like he was missing something?

          Another flicker: A sudden surge of emotion...a flash of light...something explodes in a shower of sparks...

          Jonah sat straight up in bed, his eyes wide. He had used his power once before, and he now remembered when and where. The tree. The old gnarled oak. And it had only been a few days ago...how could he have forgotten? But even as he pondered the question, he could feel the details slipping away again. He fought to keep the memory, but it swam in his mind, blurring and refocusing.

          It had been the Bullies, the three older boys who lived on the first floor. They were aggressive enough to be stupid, stupid enough to be dangerous, and dangerous enough to earn their capital-letter status. The Bullies probably had individual names, but nobody knew or cared what those might have been. To the other orphans, they were simply The Fat One, The Ugly One, and The Punchy One, and they were all hated equally.

          Jonah was busy painting the fence that circled the building in a meandering loop. It was unpleasant work, and when the Bullies arrived, he was already too tired to put up much of a fight. They played the popular game of push-Jonah-over-then-push-him-again for a while, until Jonah simply curled up in a tight little ball and waited for them to leave, the way a defenseless hiker will curl up and wait for an angry grizzly bear to stop eating him.

          It was a mistake.

          The Bullies poured the bucket of white paint over his head, then strolled off, laughing. Jonah sat there in the hot sun, feeling the paint dribble down his forehead, thinking hateful thoughts that involved rocket launchers and Bully-eating sharks. It wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything to them. He was being punished simply for existing.

          Jonah almost lost the memory at this point; he actually felt it sliding away. The details seemed insignificant, a waste of time. There was no sense in daydreaming about events that had never happened. It was better...easier...to just forget. He fought this urge, concentrating on his memories, dragging them back into the light.

          He headed into the woods that bordered the orphanage, muttering curses under his breath. There was a muddy little creek that snaked its way through the trees...maybe he could wash the paint off before it began to dry and crust. The oozing paint reached his eyes and his vision stung and blurred. He stumbled through the woods, blind and furious, feeling his anger rise with each new footstep. He hated the Bullies...hated them. He wanted to hurt them, to punish them, to make them feel small and weak and helpless for once in their miserable lives...

          The hair on his head stood at attention. Globs of white paint flecked and hissed as his body began to hum with a low electrical charge. Something deep inside him grumbled to life. The daylight drained out of the world around him, and shadows rushed in to fill the gaps.

          He paused, swaying on his feet drunkenly. He was suddenly filled with a horrible certainty...he could punish the Bullies. He had the ability to hurt them again and again and again, until they screamed and begged for mercy. He could do it. He was made to do it. He could burn them off the face of the planet forever.

          Except he resisted. Part of his mind recoiled in horror at the very thought of revenge. He hated the Bullies, yes, but he wasn't an executioner. He wasn't a destroyer. He was just a kid.

          "Somebody...help..." he gasped. 

          He reached out to steady himself against a crooked old oak tree, and the power running through his body screamed from his fingertips in a neon geyser. The electricity shattered the tree in a splash of splinters, it flattened nearby shrubs and bushes, it lifted Jonah and effortlessly flung him through the air. He hit the ground hard and his eyes snapped shut. Colors danced across the back of his eyelids in arcs of jagged lightning.

          When his eyes opened again, he had already forgotten everything. It wasn't amnesia, but it was something close. His memories of the last ten minutes had simply vanished. He saw the ruined oak tree and decided it must have been struck by lightning. He noticed he was covered in white paint...that was strange. He must have spilled the paint while working on the fence. And why was he standing in the middle of the woods? He shrugged. The question seemed unimportant.

          He returned to the orphanage, took a shower, changed into a fresh uniform, and went back to work on the fence. Something danced and tickled at the back of his mind, a sense of loss he couldn't quite identify, but he pushed the feeling aside. It was nothing.

          Several weeks later, sitting alone in his room, Jonah blinked. "Oh, man," he said weakly.

          In comic book stories, when a character discovered his secret superpowers, he usually made long-winded speeches about power and responsibility, about the need to defend the innocent from the forces of evil, and other such golden nuggets of inspiration.

          Jonah merely ran to the bathroom and threw up. Repeatedly.

*        *          *

          Several hours later, Jonah was still nowhere close to sleep. He had superpowers. It was insane. It was horrible. It was awesome. The queasy terror he had felt earlier was mostly gone, replaced with excitement. He paced back and forth, wrestling with a number of important questions. What should he name himself? The Exploder? That was a crappy name. Explosion Lad? No, that sounded like a superhero with bathroom-related problems. He pushed the name debacle aside and turned to other questions. Could his power be related to his strange dreams? Or was it connected to the slug-creature somehow? And, most importantly, would he be getting any other superpowers anytime soon? Flight, he decided. The ability to fly would be cool.

          Or maybe razor-sharp claws. Also good.

          Should he hold a press conference to announce his presence to the world, or should he keep his super-identity a secret? He rather liked the fame and glory approach of a press conference, but would reporters be skeptical? Of course they would. They would demand proof…a demonstration.

          He paused, trying to remember how, exactly, his power worked.

"Uh-oh," he said.

The memory was gone. It had slipped out the back door when nobody was looking.

          Okay, he told himself, don't panic. He stooped and pulled his battered old slingshot from its hiding spot beneath the bed. It was time for an experiment. Holding the slingshot as far from his body as possible and squeezing his eyes shut, he willed the slingshot to explode.

          Come on, blow up, you lousy thing. I want you to explode on the count of three, okay? One...two...THREE!

          Okay, we'll try again. One...two...three!

          Stupid slingshot. Okay, one...two...

It was no use. The slingshot refused to explode. Jonah concentrated with all his might, trying to find the right mental muscles to flex. He even made some explosive sound effects. Nothing.

          Maybe you don't have any powers after all, he thought. Maybe you never did. Maybe you're just going crazy.

          He finally gave up and climbed into bed, feeling confused and miserable. Whatever you do, he told himself, don't forget these things. It was a valid concern...already he could feel his memories of the last several hours tugging and struggling, trying to sink back down out of sight. It wasn't the first time Jonah had felt like his brain was working against him, but it was certainly the most pronounced. His memories didn't want to stay memorized.

          He drifted off into a troubling, nasty little sleep, and some time later he woke with a start. His entire body was trembling. He couldn't remember much of his nightmare--it had been filled with strange fog and swirling red lights swimming in the distance--but he remembered enough to know he didn't want to remember more. If there was irony in the situation, it was lost on Jonah.

          He glanced at his alarm clock. Four. The sky was still dark and cold outside his window. He rolled over, hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep.

          A noise.

          Jonah sat up. There it was again...a strange, chirping noise. It was coming from the other side of the wall, from Sally's bedroom.

          It didn't sound human.

          He carefully opened his door and peered out into the hallway. The orphanage was dark and silent. He could still hear noises coming from Sally's room. A narrow crack of light spilled out from beneath her door.

          Jonah crept closer and listened for a moment.

          "Aw, you look just like a little princess!" he heard Sally say.

          "Yes, I am a princess," the voice replied happily. It was a voice Jonah definitely knew. He threw the door open.

          Sally jumped slightly. Panic flashed across her face, but then she recognized him and smiled pleasantly. "Oh, hello, Jonah," she said.

          Yap also smiled. "Hello, fat Jonah."

*        *          *

          Jonah shut the door and approached the bed. "What are you doing here?" he snapped at the gnome.

          Yap looked wounded. "Yap came to help! Came to save worthless Jonah from death and violence and stabbing, and also death! Yap is a hero!"

          "No, Yap is a nuisance," said Jonah. "You're gonna get us in trouble if you don't quiet down."

          "Oh, Jonah, don't be mean to him!" Sally protested.

          But it was too late. His enormous eyes brimming with tears, Yap rolled off the bed. He landed on his head with a hollow thump, then crawled underneath the bed, sniffling miserably.

          "What's your problem?" Sally asked. Her expression was stormy. "He's cute and harmless...there was no reason to be so mean!"

          Jonah didn't know what to say. He did feel a little guilty for making the little creature cry. He kicked the corner of the bed. "Oh, come out of there," he said gruffly. "And stop crying."

          Yap's head emerged. "And will you be nice to poor Yap, showering him with love and kisses?" he asked hopefully.

          "I am not showering you with kisses."

          Yap disappeared back underneath the bed. They could hear him blubbering softly.

          "You hurt his feelings." Sally glared at Jonah.

          "Why is he even here?"

          She shrugged. "I woke up and he was standing on my bed, talking to my stuffed animals. At first I was scared. I thought he might be...well, another one of those things. But he didn't seem dangerous, and I remembered his name from your dream."

          Jonah stared at the mess on the floor. A tiny table was laid out, complete with toy saucers and teapots. Two stuffed animals were arranged around the table…a tiger and a bear. They stared at him with glassy doll eyes.

          "Were the two of you having a tea party?" Jonah asked slowly.

          Sally seemed embarrassed. "Well, he wanted to..."

          "Mean, stinking Jonah is not invited to Yap's tea party!" the gnome cried. "Only Herkimer Tiger and Cornelius P. Bear are invited."

          Jonah groaned. "Listen, would you come out of there?"

          "Yes, Yap, please come out," said Sally.

          Yap came wriggling out from beneath the bed. Dust bunnies clung to his cheeks, and his eyes glistened with mock tears. And, Jonah noticed with horror, his mouth was covered with...

          "Are you wearing lipstick?" he practically shouted.

          Yap smiled at him warmly. "Yap is a princess."

          "But...but...you're a boy!" Jonah protested.

          "Yes. A mighty boy princess." His crying fit apparently forgotten, Yap scampered over to the table and sat down in one of the miniature chairs. He took a slurp from one of the empty saucers and smacked his lips appreciatively. "Fine brew," he announced to nobody in particular.

          Jonah stared at Sally. "I can't believe you put lipstick on him." 

          She looked apologetic. "He wanted me to. I don't think he's ever seen lipstick before."

          Yap lifted the plastic teapot and glanced inside. He gasped, then turned on the two stuffed animals. "Who drank Yap's tea?" he demanded. "Was it you, crafty Mr. Tiger? Or was it treacherous Cornelius P. Bear?"

          The stuffed animals stared back blankly. Sally giggled. Jonah rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. He sat down on the floor beside the gnome. Yap immediately offered him some imaginary tea, which Jonah politely declined. "Yap, I need to ask you some questions," he said.

          The gnome beamed at him. "Naturally, stupid Jonah. Yap will bestow wisdom upon you. Yapping good wisdom!"

          "Err...okay. Did anybody else come through with you, Yap? From the other place, I mean. Maybe...Tom?"

          Yap shook his head. "Fat Dwarf was too slow. All of them were too slow, except for brave, beautiful Yap. Only Yap made it through."

          Jonah grimaced. He would have much rather had Tom by his side, especially if the slug-creatures decided to return. “What's going on here, Yap? Can you at least tell me that?”

          "Tea party!" Yap said brightly.

          "No, no, I mean...why are all of these strange things happening? Why are monsters chasing after me, and why are Tom and the others trying to reach me first? Do you know any of that?"

          Yap put down the teapot and rubbed his chin. His face was as thoughtful as it could possibly be, which wasn't very thoughtful at all. "Sorceress wants Jonah. Sorceress sent the Red Knight to capture Jonah. Yap and his fat, loyal sidekicks are trying to get Jonah first, trying to save him."

          Jonah shook his head, completely lost. "The Sorceress? Who is she?"

          "And who is the Red Knight?" Sally asked.

          Yap shuddered. "Bad. They're both so very wicked and bad that it makes Yap's beautiful little head explode in geysers of blood just thinking about them. If they ever caught Yap, they would suck the delicious flesh from Yap's face and..."

          "But why are they after me?" Jonah interrupted.

          "Because Jonah is powerful," Yap said. Jonah sighed. The gnome was talking nonsense again. But Yap continued, waving all four of his limbs in the air and pantomiming wildly. "Powerful like the Princess! Almost as powerful as the Yap, but only half as handsome! Yes, yes, together Jonah and the Princess could stop the wicked Sorceress and save poor Yap from the monkey-eating flugslaggers who live in..."

          This time it was Sally who interrupted. "Who is the Princess?"

          Yap sighed, his expression dreamy. "Princess Elsie is the most beautiful woman in the entire world! She opened the portal that brave Yap heroically fell through! The Princess is Yap's mother," he added helpfully.

          "The Princess is a gnome?" Jonah asked, frowning. His chances of survival were looking worse by the moment.

          Yap shook his head. "No, dumb Jonah. Not a gnome. Just Yap's mother."

          Jonah decided not to pursue this line of screaming stupidity any further. "Yap, when are the others coming? When will Tom and the Princess be here?"

          "Soon, Yap hopes. And Dain will come, too...the great warrior! Jonah will be very safe when Dain is here, with his head-chopping sword and his fancy-nancy armor." The gnome tried to smile and look apologetic at the same time. "Yap will not be much help in a battle. Yap gets very afraid for his poor, delicious life and prefers to hide with wondrous bravery." He suddenly brightened. "But Aligore is here somewhere! Aligore came many days before Yap. Aligore is brave and strong. He will keep Jonah safe until wonderful Dain arrives!"

          "I wish Aligore had been here yesterday," Jonah muttered.

          Sally leaned forward. "Where is Aligore? Do you know?"

          Yap shrugged weakly. "Nope. But he must be close! He is very loyal and brave. Not like stupid, untrustworthy Yap..." The gnome began to chew on his leg, whimpering and muttering under his breath. Sally tried to quiet him, but the gnome was inconsolable.

          Jonah stood. "We'd better get to bed. The grown-ups will be awake soon, and we're gonna be in a lot of trouble if we get caught." Images of Yap stuck in a government science lab danced through his head.

          Sally nodded. "I'll make him a little nest beneath my bed, so nobody will see him if they come snooping around my room."

          "You understand that, Yap?" Jonah asked. "You can't go sneaking around tomorrow. Just stay hidden until we figure out what to do with you."

          "Yap will be silent and soft!" the gnome screamed cheerfully. He went back to noisily strangling Cornelius P. Bear, who had apparently stolen even more imaginary tea while Yap's back had been turned. Sally desperately tried to shush the gnome, and Yap desperately tried to bite her in return. Jonah closed his eyes. This might turn out to be a disaster, he thought. He turned to leave.

          Sally called his name as Jonah reached for the door handle. "Have you figured anything else out?" she asked. "You know...about your powers?"

          "Powers?" Jonah blinked, confused. "What powers?"

CHAPTER FOUR:

CHAOS IN THE KITCHEN

          Naturally, Jonah overslept, which meant he arrived in the dining hall only moments before breakfast roll call was taken. His face was flushed, the collar of his uniform was crooked, and his hair stood up in strange, spiky angles, as if he had been attacked by a flock of seagulls wielding hammers and vacuum cleaners. Ms. Crew frowned at him from across the room, apparently offended by his continued existence.

          After all the names had been read and checked off Ms. Crew's clipboard, Jonah maneuvered his way to the little corner table where Sally sat. She was eating by herself, the way she did every meal, slowly munching an apple and staring at the world with sleepy eyes. She looked genuinely surprised when Jonah took a seat next to her, almost touched, and he felt an unexpected twinge of guilt. He had always assumed that Sally ate at the little table because she wanted to be alone; now he realized how ridiculous that sounded.

          "You look as tired as I feel," he said.

          She nodded. "I feel worse than you look. How much did you get?"

          "Sleep? About three hours."

          "Mmm. You've got me beat by a good hour."

          Jonah glanced around to make sure the world was still ignoring them. Predictably, it was. "How's Yap?" he asked quietly.

          "He finally fell asleep about an hour ago. He sure can talk." She shuddered at the memory.

          "That bad, huh?"

          "Worse than you can possibly imagine. It was all mighty Yap demands attention and heroic Yap deserves all your money, stuff like that. You know, I really do think he's insane."

          Jonah nodded agreement, his mouth full of porridge. It was wretched stuff, all cold and sloshy against the roof of his mouth. He washed the gruel down with a gulp of warm water and winced. Breakfasts in the orphanage were always bad, but today it seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.

          "Have you used your electricity powers again?" Sally asked casually.

          Jonah paused, his spoon hovering inches from his lips. Now he remembered why Sally had no friends...she was one seriously weird girl. "What are you talking about?"

          She somehow managed to look shocked and annoyed at the same time. "Are you kidding me? You seriously forgot about your powers again?"

          He stared at her blankly.

          "Jonah, I spent thirty minutes explaining everything to you last night!" Sally said. "Remember, after we found Yap? There's no way you could have forgotten all that stuff already!"

          "Forgotten what stuff?"

          She let out a frustrated yelp and turned away, perhaps looking for somebody or something she could punch. Her face had turned such a bright, blotchy pink that her freckles had vanished for the moment. "You really are crazy," she said in a voice almost too low to hear.

          Jonah felt obligated to argue this point, but when he opened his mouth, the words didn't come. To be perfectly honest, he couldn't even remember why they were arguing. Sally had called him crazy because... He frowned. Because...he couldn't remember the...something. He had forgotten what he was supposed to remember he had forgot. It was all very confusing.

          It was appropriate that an uncomfortable person broke the uncomfortable silence. A thin hand clamped down on Jonah's shoulder, and he jumped slightly. Ms. Crew towered above the children, glaring down at them with the sort of pimply loathing usually reserved for diseases like leprosy. "H-hello, Ms. Crew," Jonah tried politely.

          She made a dry clucking noise with her tongue. "You two realize, of course, that you never finished your chores yesterday," she said. "I expect the kitchen cleaned again this morning. Best if you redo everything, just to make sure you don't miss any spots. After you finish, come and see me about today's chores." She smiled the smile of an anaconda with a mouthful of squirming jungle pig, then stalked away.

          When she was safely out of earshot, Jonah let loose with a string of particularly nasty words concerning Ms. Crew's appearance, attitude, grooming habits, intelligence, and chances of ever reaching any sort of afterlife not filled with flames or pitchforks. Sally merely looked crestfallen. "I wanted to play with Yap," she said.

          "He's not a toy, you know."

          "I know," she sighed. "Still...it's awfully nice to have someone to talk to for a change, even if he doesn't understand half the words I say."

          "Well, then let's work hard and get our chores done." Jonah paused, frowning. "Did I really just say that?"

          Sally grinned.

*        *          *

          Dirty wasn't a strong enough word to describe the kitchen. It was obnoxiously, unspeakably dirty in a way that suggested that yes, higher powers did exist, and yes, they hated Jonah and Sally a great deal. The children scrubbed in silence, too exhausted to even complain.

          Several long hours later, Sally collapsed against a counter and mopped at her forehead, leaving a smear of dark grease behind. "This is hopeless. We're not even half finished."

          Jonah dropped his sponge into the water bucket, which was beginning to resemble a swamp, only dirtier. He gazed at the massive steel sink, his expression thoughtful. "You know, we could always use the sink's power sprayer to hose down the entire room, then try to soak up all the water..."

          "Jonah, no!" Sally sounded horrified.

          "As long as we're careful not to get any food wet, I think we might be okay," he continued. "Do you have any galoshes?"

          Sally rolled her eyes. "That's a terrible, stupid idea. Besides, how would we sop up all the water?"

          "I hadn't thought of that part yet," he snapped. "Why do I have to come up with the entire plan myself?"

          "You're just gonna get us in more trouble."

          "Fine," he said, grabbing his sponge from the bucket. "We'll do it the safe, stupid, boring way."

          "Maybe Yap could help?" a small voice suggested from above. The gnome was peering down at them through the air conditioning vent.

          "What are you doing here?" Sally cried.

          Yap beamed at her. "Got lonely. Wanted to help lovely Sally and abusive Jonah finish working so they could shower Yap with attention and possibly heavy bags of cash. And Herkimer Tiger and Cornelius P. Bear have agreed to attend another tea party! Love and monkey fruit!"

          "Uh-huh. And how can you help us when you're stuck behind a vent?" Sally asked slowly.

          The gnome laughed. "Yap is never stuck. Yap is a teleporter!"

          "A teleporter?" Jonah realized too late what was about to happen. "No! Don't!" he hissed.

          Ignoring him, Yap disappeared from the vent with a loud pop. There was a gigantic belch of foul green smoke as the gnome reappeared beside the children. Jonah and Sally began to cough.

          "Yap is magical!" the gnome crowed, puffing out his tiny chest and grinning.

          "Yap is a moron!" Jonah cried. The kitchen had been doused with a thick layer of green brimstone dust. The powder was everywhere...smeared on the counters, spread across the floor, pooling in a scummy film on the surface of the dishwater. "You nitwit, now we'll have to start all over again! And that smell...!"

          "Oh, Yap," Sally said softly, staring at the fresh mess.

          The gnome quailed, and Jonah was sure that more crocodile tears were on the way. But the little creature straightened up and dug through the leather pack he wore clumsily around his waist. "Yap can help," he insisted. "Gnome magic can fix everything. Well, not head-falling-offs, can't fix those, but most everything..." He gave a happy cry and pulled two tiny drawstring pouches from the pack. "Great gnome magic," he announced, his voice solemn.

          "What, marbles?" Jonah asked sarcastically.

          "Stupid, ugly, smelly, wicked Jonah..." Yap muttered, staring darkly at the boy.

          "What are those, Yap?" Sally asked.

          Yap held up the gray pouch. "Gnome shrinking powder in this one. And the other one is gnome growing powder."

          "Are you serious?" She stared at the pouches, her expression teetering between skepticism and outright awe. Magic. "How does it work?"

          Yap shrugged. "Put this powder on little things and they become big. The other one is the same, only opposite-ish. Use too much powder and things will never stop shrinking or growing!"

          Now even Jonah was intrigued. "And you can use this magic to help us?"

          The gnome only glared at him, muttering and making what can only be assumed were incredibly rude gnome gestures, many of which involved stabbing motions.

          Sally tried instead. "How will these powders help us, Yap?"

          "The room is large, yes? It would take such a long time to make everything sparkly and pretty like Yap. But if the room was smaller..." His eyes glinted craftily.

          "You're going to shrink the entire room?" Sally asked doubtfully. This seemed like a bad idea, not to mention a stupid one. "Isn't that kind of...impossible?"

          "Not for a gnome!" And before they could stop him, he leaped across the room in a single bound, leaving a faint trail of powder behind him. He glanced off a counter, landed on the stove, then hurled back across the room once more. He was singing loudly at the top of his voice.

"Oh, there's no kind of magic

Like gnome kind of magic!

Try it just once and Yap's sure you'll agree!

You can make gophers fly and make grandmothers cry

And keep filthy tigers

From stealing Yap's tea!   

"Oh, there's no kind of magic

Like gnome kind of magic!

The only real stuff that'll do in a pinch!

You can grow your own town where you swim upside-down,

And shrink a foot to a mile,

An inch by an inch!

"Oh, there's no kind of magic

Like gnome kind of magic!

The best kind of magic you ever have seen!

You can turn the sun red and explode your own head,

And shrink the whole room

'Till the whole room is clean!"

          The children watched him, stunned.

          "I think he's insane," Sally said softly.

          "That's the dumbest song I've ever heard," Jonah complained. "It didn't even make sense. And look at him! He's getting even more dust on the counters!"

          Yap landed on the floor next to the children. He was grinning wildly. There was a moment of silence, and then the ground shook beneath their feet with a loud, grumbling rumble. Pots and pans rattled on their shelves, and several glasses tumbled from the cabinet and exploded. The sponge bucket tipped over and dirty water sloshed across the floor. The clock fell from the wall, its face shattering with a sharp report. There was a soft crinkling noise and the floor itself began to slide in all directions at once, as if the children were standing on several moving sidewalks that had gotten into a shoving match. The floor tiles were growing smaller and more condensed, flowing together like beads of water. Just watching it made Jonah's brain hurt.

          "The room!" Sally's voice was high and frightened. "It's shrinking!"

          "Oh, wonderful Yap!" the gnome screamed at the top of his lungs, dancing back and forth with a dangerous lack of rhythm. His glazed expression suggested he was lost in the ecstasy of being wonderful.

          Jonah's heart began to race. He glanced around wildly. The walls were already several feet closer, bleeding together and diminishing. But it wasn't merely the walls; everything was shrinking. The stove grew smaller. The sink seemed to be collapsing inward. The refrigerator rattled as it became lower and thinner. "Yap, do something!" he cried.

          The gnome smiled at him serenely. "Yap is doing something, worthless Jonah. Yap is shrinking the room! Oh, huzzah for Yap! Huzzah!"

          "This is a bad thing, isn't it?" Sally said softly.

          "Yeah." Jonah glanced at the nearest creeping wall, already much closer than it had been moments ago. Apparently none of the powder had landed on either of the children or Yap, because they remained the same size. That might not be a good thing if this room shrinks much more, he thought. He had a brief but horribly detailed mental image of Sally and himself trapped inside a kitchen that had abruptly shrunk to the size of a shoebox. The image's predominant color was red.

          Jonah was preparing to make a run for the door when the shaking abruptly stopped. The room sighed, as if exhausted by its efforts.

          "All worship the awesome power of the Yap!" the gnome screamed, flinging his hands skyward. "Bring him your daughters and your donkeys!" The children ignored him.

          The changes were remarkable. While the kitchen had once been extremely large, each wall a good twenty paces long, now its length was no more than ten feet in any direction. All of the kitchen appliances looked like miniature versions of themselves, and the dishes in the cupboards were scarcely larger than Sally's toy tea set. The electric clock on the stovetop was blinking steadily, as if confused by what had just happened. Everything seemed mostly intact and functional, and that, at least, was something.

          The mess, however, had grown, then expanded, then multiplied, then doubled, then it had apparently invited over some messy friends and thrown a huge messy party. Midget pots and pans were strewn everywhere, a sheen of dirty water covered the floor, and the cupboards were caked with even more grime than before. It looked as if a miniature tornado had briefly touched down in the kitchen. And vomited.

          "Yap, look at this mess!" Sally cried.

          Yap cringed. "Sally is not happy?"

          "You...you...you destroyed the kitchen!"

          Yap fumbled in his waist pack, his expression wounded. "Yap will fix it," he grumbled. "Fix the rotten kitchen for the stupid, ungrateful children."

          "No, you won't," Jonah said firmly. He plucked the pouch of shrinking powder from Yap's hands and slipped it into his own pocket. "You've done enough damage. Just leave. Maybe Sally and I can still clean up this mess before Ms. Crew shows up."

          "That's Yap's powder!" the gnome howled. "Not fair!"

          "I'll give it back later...if you get out of here right now."

          Yap glared at him. "Thief! Stupid, fat, gopher-licking thief!"

          "And if you keep calling me names, I'll flush this powder right down the drain." It was an idle threat, of course, but the look of panic on Yap's face made it clear that the little creature believed him.

          "Yap will help you," he said eagerly. "Don't throw away the precious powder! Yap will help you fix everything!"

          "No, just go back to Sally's room while..."

          "Jonah, listen!" Sally interrupted. Her eyes were wide and frightened. "I think someone is coming!"

          Sure enough, they could hear the harsh click-clacking of footsteps pounding toward the kitchen door. Someone had obviously heard the racket made by the shrinking kitchen. Jonah threw a frantic glance at Sally: What should we do? There was no way to clean or hide any of the mess in time. She gave him a miserable, helpless little shrug. They were busted.

          There was a sudden belch of air as Yap teleported again. Through a haze of foul smoke, they saw him grab a large pot from the floor. He promptly blinked out of existence, reappearing a second later beside the cupboard. He slid the pan onto the shelf, then disappeared again.

          Pop! Pop! Pop!

          He teleported again and again, becoming a blur of motion that was impossible to follow. The kitchen became an expanding galaxy of billowing green smoke and rolling clouds of pure stench.

          The kitchen door flew open and Ms. Crew stood there, her face already pinched in a triumphant leer. Then a plume of green smoke hit her squarely in the face and she fell back. "Fire! Fire!" she croaked. She staggered away, gagging and hacking. Jonah and Sally lingered behind, holding dishrags over their noses to block the horrid smell of brimstone. They could still hear Yap popping in and out of the kitchen, moving with mad abandon, but the smoke had swallowed the gnome from sight. The children turned and ran.

          "Nice to see that Ms. Crew tried to save us from the fire," Sally remarked dryly.

*        *          *

          The fireman emerged from the kitchen and shook his head. "False alarm, folks," he said. "No fire in there."

          "But...but...I saw it!" Ms. Crew spluttered. "The whole kitchen was on fire!" She looked around frantically, her eyes finally fixing on Jonah. "You! Boy! Tell him what you saw!"

          "I saw a lot of smoke," Jonah admitted. "I didn't see any fire."

          Ms. Crew's lips curled into a snarl. If looks could have killed, Jonah would have been getting fitted for a halo and signing up for harp lessons before the hour was finished. "But I thought there was a fire," he added quickly. "I'm...uh...I'm probably the one who pulled the fire alarm. Um...sorry about that."

          Sally rolled her eyes.

          The fireman grinned at him. "No problem, buddy. Better safe than sorry, right?"

          "Right," Jonah said weakly.

          After the fire truck had pulled away, Ms. Crew turned on the children. "I don't know what you brats were doing in there, but I know that smoke must have been your fault." Her voice trembled with rage.

          "We didn't do anything!" Sally protested.

          Ms. Crew gave them a thin, humorless smile. "Do you think I'm stupid? Follow me. Now."

          She led them toward the kitchen. The children exchanged a nervous glance. Ms. Crew opened the door and everybody gasped.

          The kitchen was absolutely spotless. The pots and pans were sitting in their proper places in the cupboards. The water on the floor had disappeared. There was no soot or grime on any of the counters. The room, however, was still much too small. Everything--from the cups to the spoons to the food in the refrigerator--was smaller than it had been in the pre-Yap era.

          Ms. Crew's brow creased as she examined the kitchen. Something was obviously wrong with this room, yet she clearly had no idea what it was. Adults rarely notice the impossible unless the impossible decides to notice them first, and Ms. Crew was no exception to this rule. She stared at the tiny coffee pot, the tiny lamp, the tiny forks and the tiny pepper shakers, then she nodded slowly. "I guess everything's okay," she said.

          Jonah bit his lip to keep from snorting laughter. Sally elbowed him hard in the ribs and shot him a warning look.

          Mrs. Motts hurried into the kitchen. "Are all the children okay?" she asked in a rush. "Did the fire hurt anybody? Why, I'd never be able to forgive myself if one of their precious little heads got scorched and... "  

          "The children are fine, Mrs. Motts," Ms. Crew interrupted. "There...there was no fire." Her voice wavered slightly, Jonah noticed with more than a little glee. "Do you see anything out of place?"

          The cook glanced around. Her expression grew troubled. "Well, no..." she said slowly. "Nothing looks out of place. Very clean, I must say. But still..." A look of confusion crept across her open face. "Goodness...have I gotten fatter?" she finally exclaimed.

          "What do you mean?" Ms. Crew asked.

          "It seems...don't you think the kitchen seems a bit...smaller...?"

          "I think perhaps you should spend more time cooking the food and less time eating it," Ms. Crew said coldly. Sally gasped. Mrs. Motts flinched, then blushed crimson and looked away.

          Jonah couldn't help himself. "That was a rotten thing to say!"

          Ms. Crew turned on him like a hawk dive-bombing a rabbit. Here, at least, was a problem she could deal with. "You. Boy. Garden. Now."

          "For how long?"

          She gave him a smile that showed every single one of her little, weasel-like teeth. "You can have dinner when the weeds are pulled. All of them."

          Jonah felt his heart sink. The garden was huge, filled with what seemed like several different weed armies that were constantly laying siege to the rest of Nature. Weeding the entire garden would take a single person hours, if not days. He opened his mouth to say something rude, but Sally gave him another elbow-nudge in the ribs. With visible difficulty, he closed his mouth and stormed out of the kitchen.

          Ms. Crew turned her attention to Sally. "And you? Care to join your little friend in some landscaping, girl?"

          "Sure. Sounds like a hoot," Sally said, surprising even herself.

          Ms. Crew flashed her teeth again, but this time there was no pretense of a smile. "Then get out of my sight."

          Sally followed Jonah out of the kitchen, her head held high. Ms. Crew watched them go, fuming silently. After what seemed like a safe cooling-down period, Mrs. Motts spoke up from the corner, her voice polite but determined. "There's no reason to treat them so harshly, ma'am. They're just kids, and they haven't exactly had easy lives, you know."

          Ms. Crew snorted at this foolishness. "Nobody has an easy life. That's why it's called life. That Butterman boy is a disruptive brat, and the girl is almost as bad. Children like that need discipline in their lives. If they don't get it from me, what kind of adults will they wind up becoming?"

          Mrs. Motts stared back, as close to open defiance as the cheerful cook would ever come. "I don't know, ma'am, but that's their choice. Not yours."

          "You're wrong. As long as they are under my control, they are my children, and I will raise them any way I see fit. And if you enjoy your job, Mrs. Motts, you would do well to remember that."

          Ms. Crew turned and stalked out of the room. She was met in the hallway by a young boy with a bright red face. "Ms. Crew, your room!" he crowed. "It's ruined!"

          "What?"

          The boy clapped his hands together, doing a poor job of disguising his delight. "We saw dirt coming out from underneath your door! There's dirt everywhere! What were you doing in there?"

          Ms. Crew hurried upstairs, and Mrs. Motts followed. Sure enough, a steady layer of sooty muck was oozing out of the crack beneath Ms. Crew's bedroom door. She struggled with the door until it finally slogged open. Then she screamed--the first scream of her adult life--as a slimy mixture of grease, muck and dirt poured out over her ankles. The bedroom was in shambles. Her bed was smeared with goop, sludge hung from the drapes, and her dresser was dripping with filth.

          She let out a wail of rage that rattled every window in the orphanage.

          Mrs. Motts glanced inside the ravaged bedroom, holding her nose and fanning the air. She tried to look more sympathetic than she felt. In her humble opinion, this vandalism couldn't have happened to a more deserving person.

          Neither of the adults noticed the ventilation duct near the ceiling, where the vandal in question watched the mayhem below with a gigantic smile on his long, strange face.

          "Yap, yap, yap," he whispered happily.

*        *          *

          The rest of the day passed in a haze of sweat and dirt. Jonah and Sally finally abandoned the garden when the sun slumped below the horizon, their work not even close to finished. They marched inside with screaming backs and bleeding fingers, too exhausted to even speak. They ate dinner in silence--more porridge--then Jonah hurried upstairs for a shower before the bathrooms were locked down for the night. The cold water was unbelievably refreshing, and he let it cascade over him until the tips of his fingers had wrinkled like raisins. He changed into a fresh uniform and returned to his room…and the nasty surprise waiting for him.

          There was something on his pillow: a strange symbol, one he had never seen before, a triangle with a slashing vertical line drawn down its center. The line ended in a sharp arrow point. He examined the small, dark dots curiously. They almost looked like balls of lint, but...

          He drew back with a start. They were dead bugs. The symbol was composed of rows of dead flies, spiders, and ants. Feeling revolted, he picked up the pillow and brushed the bugs into his wastebasket, then pulled off the pillowcase and tossed it in the corner. He didn't feel like sleeping on a bug cemetery.

          It was obviously somebody's grotesque idea of a practical joke. But who would go to the trouble of collecting dead insects and arranging them so carefully on his pillow? Certainly not any of the orphanage's bullies; their ideas of practical jokes gravitated more toward the punching-repeatedly-in-the-stomach variety. The culprit must have been someone with a completely warped sense of humor.

          Yap?

          Sally was reading a book when Jonah peeked his head into her room. "Yap's sleeping...be quiet," she ordered. Sure enough, soft, wheezing snores were coming from beneath her bed. "Guess what?" Sally continued happily. "Remember that mess in Ms. Crew's room that everybody was talking about? Yap did it! I told him last night how horrible she was to everybody, and I guess he ruined her room as payback. Isn't that just the coolest thing ever?"

          "Yap did that? But how?"

          "Um...he said it was gnome magic."

          "He says everything is gnome magic. Earlier he tried to convince me that he invented my shoelaces with gnome magic."

          She shrugged. "Yeah, well, I guess he needed a place to teleport all of the muck from the kitchen, and since he had crawled past Crew's room in the vents..." She trailed off, grinning. "Cool, huh?"

          "Very cool. I feel like I should wake him up and shake his hand."

          "Better not. I think teleporting so many times completely tuckered him out. He's been sleeping all day."

          Jonah had been pleased to learn that Ms. Crew's room had been wrecked, of course, but finding out that Yap was responsible made him uneasy. Ms. Crew had apparently been on the warpath ever since the incident, handing out a record number of punishments for even the smallest infraction...Mary Skellar had been given sweeping duties for daydreaming, for example, and little Jim Dobbins had been assigned to clean the entire basement for sneezing too loudly at dinner. In a strange way, it was almost fortunate that Jonah and Sally had been weeding the garden for most of the day, since they had avoided landing extra chores. But if Ms. Crew found out that Jonah and Sally were hiding the vandal responsible for destroying her room, the punishment would no doubt be ruthless and horrible.

          Yap peered out from underneath the bed cautiously, still blinking sleep from his eyes. "Has vengeful Jonah come to punish poor Yap with fast kicks to the head?"

          "No, Yap. I actually wanted to thank you."

          "But Yap got you in more trouble..."

          Jonah shrugged. "Aw, old Crew would have found other reasons to give us more chores. But you saved our necks in the kitchen."

          "And Yap messied up the nasty woman's sleeping place!" the gnome said.

          Jonah grinned widely. "Yeah, you sure did."

          Yap yawned. "Still very tired," he announced in a faraway, dreamy voice. "Must sleep a little longer."

          "Wait," said Jonah, "I've got one question. In my room, there was a pile of dead bugs on my pillow. They were arranged in some sort of symbol…a triangle with a line drawn through it. Did you do that?"

          "Eew," Sally said, frowning.

          Yap looked startled. "No, no," he insisted. "Yap loves buggy-bugs, and would never kill his little crawling buddies! Yap is also fearful of painful beatings and the wrath of a scorned Jonah! Yap wouldn't do something like that...never ever never!"

          The gnome's face was so honestly confused that Jonah had no choice but to believe him. "Well, do you know who might have done it? Or what the symbol means?"

          Yap shook his head. "No, but you can ask Aligore. Yap found him today during happy-happy exploring time. Yap will take you to meet him tonight, after Yap sleeps a weeny bit." He yawned again, pointedly.

          "Wait, you found Aligore? Where is he? Can I see him now?" This was the first good news Jonah had heard in quite some time.

          But the gnome was snoring again.

*        *          *

          Jonah spent several restless hours pacing in circles around his room, waiting for Yap to wake up. A thousand questions shoved and jostled for attention in his mind. Who was Aligore, and where had he been hiding? And would Aligore be able to tell him why the slug-creature and the monster with yellow eyes were chasing him? And who had put those dead bugs on his pillow? And if Aligore was waiting somewhere outside the orphanage, how could Jonah sneak out undetected? And would Aligore be a human, or was he a Dwarf like Tom? And would Aligore have any weapons for Jonah? And would one of those weapons perhaps be a cool sword?  

          He carried on like this for several hours. It was fairly tiresome stuff.

          Finally, just when he was beginning to despair of Yap ever waking up, his bedroom door creaked open. Sally stood in the hallway, and Yap perched on her shoulder like the world's ugliest parrot. Jonah stared at her, a little surprised. "You're coming?"

          The question seemed to offend her. "Of course I'm coming," she said crossly. "I'm a part of this now, just like you."

          They set off down the hall. The orphanage was dark and quiet around them, and their footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness. Jonah's heart was racing. He wondered if Sally and Yap were as nervous as he was. If they shared his fears, they were hiding it well. Sally merely looked excited, and Yap was busy making obnoxious faces at Jonah, sticking out his tongue and rolling his eyes wildly.

          They paused at the end of the hallway. "Which way now?" Sally asked.

          Yap pointed upwards. "The roof! Aligore is waiting on the roof!"

          "You knucklehead!" Jonah groaned. "The door to the roof is locked...it's always locked. We can't get up there."

          "Jonah has Yap's shrinking powder, you know..." the gnome said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Yap could use his wondrous powers to shrink Jonah and Sally..."

          "No way. I saw what that stuff did to the kitchen," Jonah said flatly.

          "But it would be safe..." Yap pressed. "You could go through mousy-holes..."

          "Forget it!"

          Sally shushed them angrily. "Do you want to get us caught? Listen, there's another way to the roof. We can use the fire escapes, right?"

          "Oh, right. Good idea," Jonah whispered, feeling a little sheepish.

          "They're down this way. Follow me." They hurried down another gloomy hallway. Sally stopped in front of a large window and they all peered out. Sure enough, they could see the fire escape on the other side, silhouetted against the moon like a gaunt metal ribcage. Jonah unlocked the window and gave it a tug. Nothing happened. The window wouldn't budge.

          "Good thing there's not a fire right now," Jonah grunted, pulling at the window again.

          Yap danced at their feet nervously. "Hurry, you fat and lazy children! Yap is fearful and full of fear! Evil adults will smash Yap into a thousand pieces and turn him into delicious, beautiful Yap soup!"

          Jonah and Sally pulled on the window together, grunting and straining. It finally slid upwards with a rusty squeal. Jonah flinched at the noise. "Hurry, get through," he said.

          Yap leaped through the window effortlessly, and Sally followed. Jonah slithered through the narrow opening last, landing on the fire escape. The metal bars were slippery with condensation, and the ground seemed impossibly far below him. He was hit with a sudden flash of vertigo, and his stomach rolled over in a lazy lurch. Jonah hated heights the way an iceberg hates the Equator...the two simply didn't mix well together. He closed his eyes and tried not to be violently sick.

          Sally was busy tugging on the window, which apparently didn't enjoy descending any more than it enjoyed raising. "Jonah, help me!" she whispered. "I think someone is coming!"

          Sure enough, the faint beam of a flashlight could be seen at the end of the hallway, bobbing toward them in slow, loopy arcs. Jonah somehow dragged himself to his feet and helped Sally close the window. It thankfully slid back down with a much quieter squeal this time.

          "Quick! Up the stairs!" Sally hurried off, followed closely by Yap. Neither of them seemed particularly bothered by heights. Jonah, unfortunately, couldn't say the same. Another wave of dizziness struck as soon as his fingers left the side of the building. He felt as if he were about to topple over the edge and go plummeting toward the ground, screaming all the way, until he struck like a meteor and left a boy-sized crater splattered with chunks of...

          Stop it, he told himself. Just stop thinking about the way your head would explode like a pumpkin if you slipped over the railing and went falling all the way...down...there... He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away from the drop.

          Through the window, he could see the flashlight beam dancing closer. Had the night watchman heard the window being closed? Jonah didn't want to stick around to find out. With great effort, he pried his fingers away from the wall and started up the ladder.

          "What's taking so long?" Sally whispered from somewhere above him.

          "Go faster, sluggish Jonah!" Yap ordered cheerfully. "Hurry up or Yap will bite you in the face and groin until you beg for mercy that will not come!"

          The ground swung back and forth beneath Jonah's feet. It felt as if he were a clock and the rest of the world was his pendulum. Tick, tock. Back and forth. Definitely going to be sick, no doubt about that. Too dizzy...he was going to pass out...he was going to fall... He reached out blindly, feeling his feet slip on the wet stairs, feeling himself tumbling backwards, and then Sally was gripping his arm with surprising strength. She pulled him onto the landing, where he collapsed, panting.

          "Thanks," he mumbled weakly.

          Sally ignored him, staring intently at the third-floor window. The flashlight beam paused briefly, shining out below them, and the children held their breath. Then the light drew back and the window grew dark again.

          Sally gave a sigh of relief. "I thought we were toast," she said, grinning. She glanced at Jonah and cocked an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you?"

          "Don't...like...heights..." he managed.

          "Really? Why not?"

          "Don't...know..."

          She gave him a look that was almost sympathetic. "If I had known you were so scared, I would have helped you."

          This didn’t make Jonah feel better, not in the slightest.

          "Yap is not afraid of heights!" Yap said. As if to prove this, he stepped to the railing and flung himself out into space with a dramatic scream. The little gnome plummeted out of sight. Sally gave an alarmed cry, but Yap reappeared seconds later in another cloud of smelly green smoke. "See?" he announced casually. "What a wonderful Yap indeed."

          "Great," Jonah croaked. "Now try it again without the teleporting."

          Yap either didn't hear or chose to ignore him. He scampered back and forth at the base of the ladder that led to the roof, terribly excited. "Hurry! Move your lazy carcasses! Aligore is waiting!"

          Sally touched Jonah's shoulder. "Will you be okay, or do you need some help?" Her voice was serious, but the hint of a smile played in the corners of her mouth.

          Jonah brushed her hand away, annoyed. "I'll be fine. I don't need help from...from..."

          "From a girl?" She smiled.

          "From anybody. Let's go." He got to his feet with an effort, careful not to look at the ground swimming far below. Instead he stared up at the roof. It really wasn't that far...perhaps ten feet. No problem. He stretched out his hands like a blind man, feeling for the ladder. His fingers brushed against a slim metal rung and he grasped it gratefully. Yap was already bounding ahead, clearing the roof's ledge in a single leap and disappearing from sight. Jonah followed the gnome slowly and carefully, focusing only on the next rung of the ladder. Sally waited below, clearly afraid that Jonah would slip and send them both over the side of the fire escape, which, to be honest, was a fairly valid concern.

          Four more rungs. Almost there. Jonah's hands were shaking, and his tongue felt dry and heavy in his mouth. He grabbed the next rung with a trembling hand, then pulled himself up a little higher. He felt foolish and weak. Sally was a year younger--not to mention a girl--and she wasn't scared of heights. What was wrong with him? He took another creeping step up the ladder. 

          After what seemed like an eternity, Jonah reached the roof and quickly slid over the ledge. He had never realized how much he took solid, stable ground for granted. He gulped air and hated himself for being a coward. His head spun madly.

          Then he glanced up and all coherent thought was driven from his mind in a single sharp blast of horror. He was staring into a pair of familiar eyes, large yellow supernovas of flickering flame and dancing flarespots. And below the eyes lay a gaping mouth, filled with row upon row of wicked teeth.

          The monster had found him.

CHAPTER FIVE:

ALIGORE

            "HELLO," the monster said. His voice was the booming rumble of a garbage truck colliding with a fireworks factory in the middle of a thunderstorm. He blinked his large yellow eyes and yawned.

          Jonah tried to respond politely, but all that came out were weak eeking noises.  There was a sharp intake of breath as Sally crested the top of the ladder and saw the monster. Jonah waved his hand in a gesture that either signaled, It's okay, don't worry! or Run for your life, it's gonna kill us all!, but even he wasn't sure which he meant. 

          The roof was silent for a moment.

          "So..." said Sally. "Um. Should we be running right now?"

          "NO," the monster said.  

          "Oh. Okay." she said lamely.

          The monster bent his front legs in an awkward bow. "MY NAME IS ALIGORE," he said.

          Jonah stared. This was Aligore? The creature was roughly the size of a malnourished rhinoceros, except his body was covered with shiny emerald scales and a massive tail trailed out behind him, wagging in a dog-like fashion that Jonah found strangely reassuring. Tiny protrusions ran down the length of the creature's tail, a cross between spikes and nubs. He had a face that was long and sloping, with a rounded snout and a cavernous mouth. Two large horns extended from the bony ridge running along either side of the creature's forehead. He looks like a Komodo dragon, Jonah realized. Only bigger. And scarier.

          "What are you?" he blurted.

          "I AM A DRAGON."

          "Like a Komodo Dragon?" Jonah asked, feeling very clever.

          The creature cocked his entire head, another doggish gesture that was somewhat endearing. "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THAT WORD. I AM A GESTHARIAN DRAGON, FROM THE PLAINS OF GESTHAR. MY FATHER WAS CARINOG THE GREAT, AND MY MOTHER WAS SANSOR THE TERRIBLE."

          "Are you...uh...great and terrible, too?" Sally asked nervously.

          Aligore huffed laughter. "I PREFER TALKING TO HUMANS RATHER THAN EATING THEM. I AM A GREAT SHAME TO MY PARENTS."

          Yap materialized on the dragon's back, where he sprawled out comfortably. "Aligore is soft and flubbery," he announced. "Like a baby monkey-seal."

          "I AM NOT LIKE A BABY MONKEY-SEAL."

          Sally looked confused. "But I thought dragons had...you know...wings."

          "MY WINGS WILL COME DURING THE TIME OF MOLT. I AM STILL A CHILD BY DRAGON STANDARDS."

          "Like a baby monkey-seal," Yap repeated cheerfully.

          Aligore craned his long neck around and snapped at the gnome. Yap darted out of the way, shrieking. The dragon turned back to the children and sighed. "THAT IS A VERY ANNOYING GNOME."

          Jonah grinned.

*        *          *

          The odd quartet sat beside the large air conditioning unit near the center of the roof. Try as he might, Aligore seemed incapable of lowering his booming voice, and the children hoped the air conditioner's steady drone would drown some of the noise. The dragon stared at the whirring machine with obvious distaste.

          "You saved our lives the other day," Sally said. It wasn't a question. "You attacked those slug-things in the alley."

          Aligore nodded.

          "Thanks, by the way," Jonah said.

          Sally looked at him crossly. "That's all you can say? 'Hey, thanks for saving my life?' That's it?" She rolled her eyes.

          "Shut up, Sally." Jonah turned to Aligore. "So what happened to the slug-things?"

          "I DISPOSED OF THEM." The dragon's eyes gleamed with a sudden light, and Jonah smiled. He couldn't imagine a better guardian than the large, friendly creature. For the first time in days, he felt completely safe.

          "THERE IS STILL DANGER, HOWEVER," said Aligore. 

          Strike that, Jonah thought glumly.

          "BOTH MYSELF AND THE SLUG ENTERED THIS WORLD SEVERAL DAYS AGO, LIKELY AT THE SAME TIME. YAP CAME THROUGH A SIMILAR PORTAL YESTERDAY, SO WE MUST ASSUME THAT AT LEAST ONE OTHER CREATURE ARRIVED AS WELL. THERE IS ALWAYS A DUALITY WHEN MAGIC IS CONCERNED."

          "Yesterday, huh?" Sally looked thoughtful. "Could these portals have anything to do with Jonah's power?"

          "JONAH HAS A POWER?" Aligore asked.

          "I have a power?" Jonah echoed.

          Sally groaned. "Yeah, but he doesn’t remember it. In the supermarket, he shot a bunch of electricity out of his body when the slug attacked him."

          "YOU DID?"

          "I didn't!" Jonah protested, glaring daggers at Sally. Why was she trying to embarrass him by making up these stupid stories? He wondered if all girls were born this evil and annoying, or if they had to take special classes somewhere along the way.

          Sally ignored him. "Do you think Jonah is getting this power from the portals that are opening?" she asked Aligore.

          "PERHAPS," he said slowly. "OR PERHAPS THEY ARE DRAWING THEIR POWER FROM HIM."

          "Huh. I never thought of that," she said.

          "Hey, I'm standing right here!" Jonah snapped. "Quit ignoring me!"

          "Jonah, relax. You'll forget this entire conversation in a few minutes."

          "Are you calling me stupid?"

          "It doesn't matter if I am, stupid. You won't remember it anyway."

          "WHY WILL HE FORGET?" Aligore asked patiently.

          "Yeah, why will I forget about this power that I obviously don't have?"         

          "I don't know," Sally told Aligore. "Whenever I remind him about the power, he forgets it all a few minutes later. Do you think it might be brain damage?" she added sweetly.

          "POSSIBLY."

          "Hey!" Jonah yelled. "I'm...right...here!"

          "BUT THIS SOUNDS MORE LIKE ENCHANTMENT," Aligore continued. "I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF A MEMORY CURSE BEING USED IN THIS MANNER. BUT YOU SHOULD AVOID USING THIS POWER, JONAH."

          "I don't have a power."

          "He does," Sally said.

          "I don't."

          "YOU MIGHT."

          "This is stupid," Jonah complained.

          "I WOULD HAVE TO AGREE," said Aligore. "BUT MY PARENTS HAVE A SAYING...BETTER SAFE THAN DEAD AND BUTCHERED BY HUNTERS."

          "You mean better safe than sorry," Sally murmured.

          "IF YOU WISH." The dragon gave a great flick of his tail.

          "But how can Jonah remember not to use his power if he can't remember that he has a power?" Sally persisted.    

          "Huh? What power?" Jonah asked. "What are you taking about?" Why were they arguing about...well...whatever they were arguing about? It had something to do with him, he was almost positive of that. They had been talking about the slug-creature, and then someone had said something...it all blurred together. He rubbed his temples, terribly confused.

          "See?" Sally said to Aligore. The dragon nodded.

          "See what? Can someone tell me what's going on?" Jonah pleaded.

          The dragon stared up at the sky, as if lost in thought. His teeth glimmered in the starlight. "PERHAPS I SHOULD TELL YOU OF RHYYNE AND THE WAR THAT IS TAKING PLACE THERE. THAT MIGHT ANSWER SOME OF YOUR QUESTIONS."

          "What's Rhyyne?" said Jonah.

          "WILL HE REMEMBER ANY OF THIS?" Aligore asked Sally.

          "Huh? What are you talking about?" Jonah was offended. "I'm not stupid!"

          Sally shrugged. "He seems to remember everything unless you mention his power."

          "What power?" Jonah asked innocently.

          Sally and Aligore both groaned.

          "And what's Rhyyne?" Jonah repeated. He was getting frustrated. Why was nobody making sense?

          Aligore motioned toward Yap, who was sitting by the air conditioner and chewing on pebbles with a sort of frantic urgency. "RHYYNE IS THE NAME OF OUR WORLD. IT IS A PLACE OF BEAUTY AND WONDER. AND IT IS SLOWLY DYING."

*        *          *

          "YAP!" the dragon thundered. "GIVE ME A SPEAK-SEE BALL!"

          "Shan't." Yap said defiantly.

          "THEN I WILL EAT YOU."

          Yap considered this for a moment. "Yap has decided to bless the kind dragon with wisdom and magic," he declared. He rummaged through the pack he wore around his waist.

          "What's a speaksy ball?" Sally asked.

          Aligore looked shamed. "I HAVE...TROUBLE WITH WORDS. BY DRAGON STANDARDS, I AM CONSIDERED EXTREMELY TALKATIVE, BUT DRAGONS AND HUMANS HAVE VERY DIFFERENT STANDARDS. MY GRANDFATHER, FOR EXAMPLE, WAS ONCE SILENT FOR THIRTY-TWO YEARS BECAUSE HE COULD NOT THINK OF ANYTHING WORTH SAYING.

          "I MUST TELL YOU MUCH OF MY WORLD, AND THE SPEAK-SEE BALL MIGHT HELP WHEN MY WORDS FAIL. WHEN PLACED UNDER THE TONGUE, THE BALL WILL PULL MEMORIES AND IDEAS FROM THE MIND OF THE SPEAKER. THEY ARE VERY POPULAR AMONG BARDS AND STORYTELLERS, ALTHOUGH GNOMES MAINLY USE THEM TO SCARE ONE ANOTHER."

          Yap glared at him. "Fat baby dragon," he muttered darkly. "Yap shall harvest your blubber to make his mighty candles." He pulled a small object from his pack and handed it to Aligore.

          Jonah and Sally craned forward. The Speak-See Ball was disappointing...merely a small brown orb roughly the size of a marble. The ball emitted a strange odor, like tuna fish dipped in expired milk and left out in the sun to rot, perhaps.

          "Looks like candy," Sally said skeptically.

          "Smells like a goat farm," Jonah added.

          Aligore dropped the ball into his mouth. He smacked his lips and grimaced. It apparently tasted worse than it smelled, if that was possible.

          "How long before it starts working?" Jonah asked.

          "SOON."

          As if on cue, a giant clock materialized out of thin air, hovering beside Aligore's head. The clock's hands spun madly and a plastic bird emerged from a hatch near the clock's face, coo-cooing loudly. The children gasped. Jonah instinctively reached out to touch the clock, but it had already vanished.

          Aligore grinned at them.

          "That...was awesome," Jonah said.

          Aligore cleared his throat and began to speak. "COUNTLESS YEARS AGO, RHYYNE WAS A DANGEROUS PLACE. MAGIC RAN RAMPANT, AND THE WORLD WAS TORN APART BY THE WARS OF THE WIZARDS. MAGIC IS MEANT FOR THOSE OF NOBLE BLOOD, WHICH IS WHY IT RUNS SO STRONGLY IN THE ROYAL FAMILY. WHEN NORMAL HUMANS TRAINED THEMSELVES IN THE MAGICAL ARTS, THE RESULTS WERE DISASTROUS."

          As he spoke, the air between them shimmered and changed, growing rounder and somehow tangible, forming a bubble of color and sound. Inside the bubble, men and women in dark cloaks darted through the sky. Bolts of fire and electricity flew between the bat-like figures. The horizon hung crimson above a scorched landscape stretching out in all directions. As they watched, one of the wizards was ignited by a stray blast and plummeted towards the ground, a shrieking fireball. Jonah shuddered. It was a horrible sight.

          "SOON, HOWEVER, A COUNCIL OF BRAVE WIZARDS UNITED TO DESTROY THE ROGUE SORCERERS. AFTER AN EXTREMELY BLOODY WAR WHICH SPANNED DECADES, THE ROGUE WIZARDS WERE DEFEATED AND DRIVEN BELOW THE SURFACE OF THE LAND, WHERE THEY WERE CURSED TO REMAIN."

          A train of figures in tattered and bloody cowls were being herded toward the mouth of a cavern. Solemn guards stood watch, cloaked in dark armor and wielding menacing staffs. Some of the rouge wizards were marching proudly, while others were being dragged screaming and whimpering toward the cavern's entrance. As the children watched, one of the rogue wizards turned and dashed for the safety of the hills. He was instantly struck down by a volley of blinding energy bolts. He fell and lay motionless in the dust.

          "That's awful," Sally breathed.

          "THEY DESERVED IT," Aligore said bluntly. "LEFT TO THEIR OWN DEVICES, THEY WOULD HAVE DESTROYED OUR WORLD. THEY WERE FOOLS PLAYING WITH POWERS THEY COULD NOT COMPREHEND, AND THE MOST DANGEROUS FOOL OF ALL WAS THEIR LEADER, MORTIOUS CULL."

          Yap moaned at the mere mention of the name, and Jonah soon saw why. The Speak-See Ball displayed an enormous figure completely covered by stained black robes. Two glowing white eyes shone from beneath Cull's hood. He was the last in the line of defeated wizards, yet he carried himself with a haughty swagger, flexing and unflexing his giant claws dramatically. He seemed wholly unimpressed by his captors.

          "HE WAS ONCE A LIVING, BREATHING HUMAN, BUT IN HIS EFFORTS FOR IMMORTALITY, CULL MADE A FOOLISH MISTAKE. IN A WAY, HIS SPELL WAS SUCCESSFUL...HE WOULD NO LONGER AGE OR EVEN DIE. BUT THE PRICE HE PAID WAS TERRIBLE."

          Cull paused at the edge of the cavern. He raised his claws to his face and the hood dropped away. Jonah felt Sally stiffen beside him. It was truly a frightening sight. Cull's entire face was metal...rust-colored hair swept back into a long ponytail, sharp golden cheekbones, razor-sharp steel teeth, and a chin covered with tiny glinting spikes that might have once been beard stubble. Glowing white eyes flashed beneath a heavy iron brow.

          "He turned himself into a statue," Jonah whispered.

          "YES. HE BECAME A LIVING STATUE. AND IN THE PROCESS, HE LOST ALL THE EMOTIONS THAT RESIDE IN THE FLESH AND THE BONE, SUCH AS LOVE, PAIN, AND COMPASSION. ALL THAT REMAINED WERE HATRED AND GREED, AS COLD AND UNYIELDING AS THE BODY THAT HELD THEM. ALTHOUGH CULL COULD NOT BE DESTROYED, HE WAS CURSED TO REMAIN TRAPPED BENEATH THE GROUND WITH HIS FOLLOWERS UNTIL THE END OF MAN AND BEAST."

          With a final sneer, Cull spun and marched into the darkness. A giant silver door swung shut behind him with a resounding crash. The wizards gathered beside the door, waving their staffs and muttering spells. Slowly, the door began to glow a brilliant orange. The wizards chanted louder, beams of energy crackling from their staffs. There was a noise like a great thunderclap, a flash of white-hot lightning, and the door disappeared beneath the ground in a plume of smoke and ash. When the air finally cleared, the wizards were lying in boneless piles of sprawled limbs. None of them were moving.

          "Are they...?" Jonah began.

          Aligore looked grim. "THE MOST POWERFUL CURSES ALWAYS CARRY A TERRIBLE PRICE."

          Jonah stared at the prone figures. They looked like crumpled dolls carelessly tossed away. He wondered what kind of courage it would take to sacrifice your life simply to imprison someone. Would he ever be brave enough to make a sacrifice like that? The answer, of course, was no. No, never, absolutely, positively not. 

          Aligore was watching him closely, his expression unreadable. Jonah gave him a weak grin, and the dragon continued: "AFTER THE WAR OF THE WIZARDS, AN AGE OF PEACE AND PROSPERITY FELL UPON RHYYNE. THE WIZARD COUNCIL WAS FORMED, ADVISORS AND PROTECTORS OF THE ROYAL FAMILY, AND THEY HELPED MEND THE DEVASTATION. EVENTUALLY LIFE RETURNED TO ALL CORNERS OF THE WORLD."

          The image changed and Jonah drew in a sharp breath. The Speak-See Ball now showed Rhyyne from an aerial perspective, sweeping above the landscape at an incredible rate of speed. Jonah caught glimpses of forests filled with trees that must have been thousands of feet tall. There were gigantic mountains, their jagged peaks stabbing into the sky, silver waterfalls tumbling down their sides. He saw lakes filled with water so pure it was practically transparent. Serpentine lobster creatures fought and danced in the depths, each the size of a small town, their ancient shells faded to the color of honey.

          It was nothing like watching a television program, Jonah would later think. The images from the Speak-See Ball were somehow more alive, more vivid, as if the children were peering through a small porthole into a different world that lay only a few feet away. He had the distinct impression that if he dipped his hand into the swirling images, his fingertips would brush against the tops of the trees.

          "Giants!" Sally squealed. "Look, Jonah! Look at them!"

          Sure enough, massive men and women strode across the plains, each of them several hundred feet tall. Their heads were bent and they took each step carefully to avoid crushing innocent villages beneath their wide feet. Then the giants were gone and the children's view sped across a great expanse of water. Wooden ships beat through the air beneath them, each held aloft by a massive set of canvas wings. A giant pink tentacle suddenly rose from the water to slap at one of the ships, but then the ship and tentacle both melted out of view.

          "YOU ARE SEEING MY WORLD," Aligore said.

          "It's fantastic," Jonah said. Sally merely nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the swirling images.

          The dragon grinned. "WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE IT WITH YOUR OWN EYES."

          Jonah was positive he had heard wrong. "What did you just say?" 

          "DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A SOCIAL VISIT? YOU ARE MEANT TO ACCOMPANY YAP AND I BACK TO RHYYNE, JONAH."

          Jonah tried to speak, but all that came out was a helpless little squeak, the sort of yipping noise a mouse makes when it meets the bottom of a shoe.

          "Wait a minute!" Sally suddenly looked angry. "What about me? You can't show me all of this"--she gestured wildly at the images in the bubble--"and then just leave me here while you and Jonah go have dangerous adventures! That's not fair!"

          Aligore shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. "I AM ONLY SUPPOSED TO BRING JONAH BACK."

          "If one of us goes, we both go. Right, Jonah?"

          "Um..." Jonah shrugged. “Sure…I guess…”

          "TIME IS GROWING SHORT," Aligore rumbled. "PERHAPS AFTER YOU HAVE HEARD THE REST OF MY STORY, YOU WILL NOT BE SO EAGER TO JOIN US."

          "I don't like the sound of that..." Jonah muttered.

*        *          *

          "FOUR YEARS AGO, A TERRIBLE GROUNDQUAKE RAVAGED MUCH OF DELL."

          "Dell?"

          "RHYYNE'S MAIN CONTINENT. NOW QUIT INTERRUPTING." Aligore cleared his throat again. "THE EVENT CAME AS A GREAT SURPRISE TO ALL, SINCE GROUNDQUAKES AND OTHER NATURAL DISASTERS HAD LONG BEEN REGULATED BY THE WIZARD COUNCIL."

          In the Speak-See Ball, huge shelves of land were being uprooted and tossed through the air like confetti. Glowing rivers of lava tore through the countryside in twisting, hissing arcs. As they watched, an entire village shuddered and disappeared beneath the shifting grounds. It certainly didn't look like any earthquake Jonah had ever seen. It looked like Armageddon.

          "MANY LIVES WERE LOST IN THE CHAOS, BUT THE REAL TERROR WAS STILL TO COME. AFTER THE GROUNDQUAKE, HORDES OF MONSTERS BEGAN TO SWARM OUT OF THE CRACKS IN THE LAND."

          The image bubble was mostly dark now, and for that Jonah was thankful. Starbursts of lightning briefly illuminated endless waves of monsters, thousands upon thousands of them. Shining, snapping teeth. Leathery beating wings. Glowing white eyes. They came grunting and chittering, snarling and slobbering. Jonah shuddered and turned away. It was like every nightmare he had ever had rolled into one.

          If Aligore noticed Jonah's discomfort, he ignored it. "MOST OF THE MONSTERS WERE EVENTUALLY ROUNDED UP AND DESTROYED BY THE WIZARD COUNCIL, BUT IT WAS A LONG, BLOODY STRUGGLE. AND WHEN THE JOB WAS FINISHED, THE WIZARD COUNCIL FOUND ITS RANKS DEPLETED. ORDER HAD BEEN RESTORED, BUT THE PRICE WAS HIGH. WITHOUT THE COUNCIL'S LEADERSHIP, DELL'S PROVINCES SOON FELL INTO DISARRAY.

          "AT THIS POINT, REGINA CULL REAPPEARED. AFTER MORTIOUS CULL'S DEFEAT AND IMPRISONMENT, HIS SURVIVING RELATIVES HAD BEEN STRIPPED OF THEIR POWERS AND DRIVEN INTO THE HILLS. WE ASSUMED THEIR LINEAGE HAD SIMPLY DIED OUT. WE ASSUMED WRONG."

          Sally gasped, and Jonah stole a glance at the bubble, prepared to see a terrible old hag covered with boils and weeping sores. Instead he saw a regal woman whose raven-dark hair formed a halo of night around her pale face. Her flowing purple robes were adorned with tiny silver runes, and her right arm was sheathed in a metal bracelet shaped like a coiled viper, complete with flashing ruby eyes and bared fangs. Despite her beauty--for she was beautiful--there was something cold and merciless hiding behind her eyes, and her lips were curled in a cruel half-sneer. The contrast was striking, like a beautiful painting that had suddenly come to life and spit at you. Jonah found he could barely look away. Her flashing gray eyes were hypnotic.

          Aligore droned on, seemingly oblivious to all of this. "HER REAPPEARANCE WAS SURPRISING, BUT EVEN MORE SHOCKING WERE HER FORMIDABLE MAGICAL POWERS. SHE TOOK CONTROL OF THE ABANDONED CASTLE OF HER ANCESTORS AND CREATED A TERRIBLE STRONGHOLD."

          The image blurred and changed. A great black castle crouched on the edge of a cliff, its towers jutting into the night sky. Gargoyles leaped from one ledge to the next, wicked spears clutched in their claws, their stone eyes searching for intruders.

          "SHE LAUNCHED AN ATTACK AGAINST THE ROYAL FAMILY, KILLING SCORES OF MEN, WOMEN AND MAGICAL CREATURES. EVENTUALLY THE DEFENSES FELL. MONSTERS OVERTOOK OUR CASTLE."

          Once again, the scene was too terrible to watch. Endless rows of monsters swarmed through the halls of an ornate palace, bearing down upon a row of soldiers stubbornly holding their ground against the impossible odds. Man met monster in a screaming collision of flesh, steel and teeth. Jonah turned away, feeling sick.

          "SEVERAL OF US--INCLUDING MYSELF, DAIN AND TOM--MANAGED TO SMUGGLE THE PRINCESS OUT OF A SECRET PASSAGE IN THE CASTLE'S DUNGEON. SHE WAS THE ONLY MEMBER OF THE ROYAL FAMILY TO ESCAPE THAT DAY."

          Sally looked shocked. "Her parents were...?"

          Aligore nodded grimly. "THE KING AND QUEEN WERE...GOOD PEOPLE. THEY TRUSTED ME DURING A TIME WHEN DRAGONS WERE NOT POPULAR CREATURES. THEY DID NOT DESERVE THEIR FATE."

          Sally frowned. "So where does Jonah figure into all of this?"

          "ALL WE KNOW IS THAT THE SORCERESS IS AFTER HIM. WHATEVER HER PLANS MAY BE, THEY WILL NOT BE PLEASANT."

          "Me? Why is she after me?" Jonah's voice came out as a hoarse squeak. He was positive that somebody, somewhere, was making an awful mistake. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about him, nothing at all. Even his foster parents had never wanted him, so why would a powerful Sorceress?

          Aligore sighed. "PROBABLY BECAUSE OF YOUR POWER, JONAH."

          "What power?"

          Sally and Aligore exchanged a this is hopeless glance. "NEVER MIND," the dragon said heavily.

          "Jonah is a moron," Yap mumbled from the corner.

          "But how do you know this Sorceress is after him?" Sally asked, her eyes bright. She seemed to find discussions about Jonah being in danger endlessly fascinating. He felt like kicking her.

          "REGINA CULL'S MONSTERS ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES CAPABLE OF INTERROGATING PRISONERS," Aligore growled. Thankfully, the Speak-See Ball remained dark for this statement. The children's imaginations were more than capable of filling in the blanks. "WE WERE ABLE TO LOCATE JONAH IN THIS WORLD BY USING A FINDING STONE, BUT PRINCESS ELSIE'S MAGICAL ABILITIES ARE STILL RAW AND UNTAMED. SHE WAS UNABLE TO OPEN A PORTAL UNLESS..." He trailed off, staring meaningfully at Jonah.

          "...Unless Jonah was using his power at the same time." Sally concluded. "But why?"

          "What power?" Jonah asked.

          The dragon shrugged. "TIME IS RUNNING SHORT, AND I HAVE SPOKEN FOR TOO LONG. WE MUST LEAVE THIS PLACE. THERE IS NO TELLING HOW MANY SERVANTS OF CULL HAVE ALREADY ENTERED YOUR WORLD."

          "Where will we go?" Jonah asked slowly. His brain felt sluggish and numb.

          "I DON’T KNOW. WE MUST STAY ON THE MOVE, AT LEAST UNTIL THE PRINCESS IS ABLE TO CONNECT OUR WORLDS ONCE MORE."

          "And I'm coming with you," Sally declared.

          Aligore hesitated. "I WASN’T GIVEN INSTRUCTIONS FOR THIS. THE JOURNEY WILL BE DANGEROUS, AND NONE OF US MAY RETURN."

          "Good, because I don't ever want to come back here."

          "THERE IS NO TIME TO ARGUE. YOU MAY COME WITH US UNTIL SOMEONE SAYS OTHERWISE. I WILL DO MY BEST TO PROTECT YOU."

          She beamed at him. "You're just a big sweetheart, you know that?"

          The dragon looked even more uncomfortable, if that was possible. "PACK WHATEVER ESSENTIALS YOU CAN CARRY. WE MUST LEAVE TONIGHT. GO WITH THEM, YOU WORTHLESS GNOME." He kicked Yap, who was curled up in a little ball and loudly pretending to snore. Yap mumbled something rude and rolled over.

          "That's okay," Jonah said quickly. "He's pretty noisy, actually. We'll be safer without him."

          Aligore looked unconvinced, but he nodded. "THEN GO QUICKLY, AND BE CAREFUL."

          The children walked back to the fire escape. Sally paused when she reached the ladder, then she turned and hurried back to where Aligore sat. "Could I ask one more question? Your grandfather--the one who went thirty-two years without speaking--what did he finally say?"

          Aligore gave his strange dragon smile again. "HE SAID HE WAS HUNGRY. MY GRANDFATHER WAS VERY HUMOROUS, AT LEAST BY DRAGON STANDARDS."

*        *          *

          "Can you believe this?" Sally whispered as they clambered down the fire escape. "This is so cool!"

          Actually, Jonah couldn't believe it. Talking dragons and evil Sorceresses and a world full of monsters and giants and magic...it was all simply too much.

          They reached the window and pried it open together. Sally wriggled through the opening first. "Hey," she said suddenly, "this time the fire escape didn't freak you out!"

          Jonah was surprised. She was right, of course; he had barely even noticed the height. He glanced down and once more the ground seemed distant and swimmy. His stomach clenched and his head spun...he was going to fall, going to fly right over the railing, going to go screaming down until he hit...

          Thankfully, Sally saw what was happening. "Oh no you don't, you big dummy," she whispered fiercely, grabbing his shirt and pulling him through the window.

          He stood on shaky legs, blushing and feeling stupid. "Come on," he growled, setting off down the hall. It really wasn't fair, he decided. Sally wasn't scared of heights, and she didn't seem afraid of dragons or monsters or evil witches, while Jonah was terrified by everything. I bet she wouldn't be so brave if the Sorceress was after her, he thought bitterly.

          They reached their rooms without incident, and Jonah spent several minutes agonizing over what to pack. Which shoes should you wear to run away from a powerful Sorceress who was chasing you for absolutely no reason? What kind of pants were best when you get attacked by a slug monster? The whole situation was ridiculous. He began randomly shoving clothes into his duffel bag. He would definitely need socks and underwear. A spare pair of shorts went in the bag, as well as a few old tee-shirts. He left his stupid orphanage uniforms on the shelf; at least he would never have to wear those uncomfortable things again. He grabbed his only other pair of sneakers from the closet. They were torn, dirty, and about two sizes too small, but who knew when he would find another pair?

          Maybe never. Maybe I'll get killed.

          And that was a pleasant thought he could have gladly done without. He pushed it out of his mind...there would be plenty of time for helpless, cowering fear later. He threw his tennis ball into the bag, as well as his slingshot and compass. What else would he need?

          It suddenly came to him. Food, of course. He had no idea what people ate in Rhyyne--probably raw meat and a lot of vegetables, he thought glumly--but he was fairly certain there would be no potato chips. He must have junk food. He couldn't live without junk food.

          Naturally, perfect little Sally was already packed. Her yellow backpack looked comfortable and light, even though someone had once told Jonah that girls always packed far too many items for even the most trivial events. She looked impatient. "Go to the roof," Jonah told her. "I'll be there in a minute. I'm gonna get some food from the kitchen."

          She nodded. "Oh, good idea. I'll come with you."

          Already annoyed, Jonah shook his head. "No, just go. I'll be fine."

          She looked ready to argue, but she rolled her eyes and hurried off. Her bare feet padded silently against the tiles, and he saw that her shoes were tied to the straps of her backpack. "Why didn't I think of that?" he muttered crossly. He slid off his shoes and stored them in the duffel bag, then turned and headed down the dark stairwell.

*        *          *

          Yap yawned widely. "Yap, yap, yap," he said. "Where are the weensy dorklings?"

          "THE CHILDREN ARE COMING." Aligore was not in the mood for conversation. The effects of the Speak-See Ball were quickly wearing off, which meant that annoying little white bubbles appeared in the air every time he spoke. He was growing more uneasy by the moment. Why had he allowed the children to leave his sight? And why had he agreed to let the girl accompany them? Aligore was obedient by nature, and he was uncomfortable making decisions...especially decisions that might have been wrong.

          Yap stretched out on the ground and lazily flicked a passing beetle with one long finger. "Stupid buggy-bug," he sang. "Flitting and flapping and flying. Wish you were dead like the buggy-bugs in mean Jonah's room."

          Aligore was instantly on his feet. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" he almost roared.

          Yap cowered beneath him. "Sorry! Yap loves the merciful dragon and all the nice buggy-bugs!"

          "NO, THE DEAD INSECTS...TELL ME ABOUT THEM!"

          Yap looked confused. "Dead buggy-bugs on Jonah's fluffery pillow, all lined up in a row. Triangle-shapey."

          Aligore drew in a deep, rattling breath and sat back on his haunches, his eyes wide. "NO," he muttered. "OH, NO..."

          "Were the buggy-bugs wicked?" Yap asked. "Did they deserve their cruel fate for messing up the pretty, pretty pillow?"

          "THAT SYMBOL WAS THE MARK OF THE RED KNIGHT. IT MEANS THE KNIGHT IS ALREADY IN THIS WORLD. PERHAPS HE IS ALREADY HERE."

          "Is he coming for a tea party?" Yap guessed.

          Aligore's voice was flat and cold. "HE IS COMING TO KILL US ALL."

CHAPTER SIX:

PENGUINS AND PROBLEMS

           Jonah watched the beam of the night watchman's flashlight dance off into the darkness, and he exhaled sharply. That had been too close. He slid around the corner and jogged down the stairwell. Even without sneakers, his footsteps were still obnoxiously noisy in the silent building. He paused on the second landing to shift the weight of the duffel bag slung tight around his shoulders. Should have left the bag behind, he thought. Anybody who sees me carrying this stupid thing will know I'm running away. For a moment panic fluttered in his chest, and he almost gave up and turned around right then and there. But a life without junk food would have been no life at all; the prospect was too grim to even contemplate. He hurried on. 

          Eight beady red eyes watched him go from a vantage point up near the ceiling. After Jonah disappeared from sight, the tiny eyes blazed and faded to black, leaving the stairwell dark and empty.

*        *          *

          Deep down, Ms. Crew didn’t think she was a bad person.

          True, she was not a cheery person, and nobody would ever accuse her of smothering children with attention (maybe pillows, but never attention), yet these were  minor flaws and they didn’t bother her much. She was a firm believer that all adults hated children at least to some degree. How could you not hate them, with their constant noise and their disrespect, their messy hair and their rude table manners? At least she was honest about her hatred, which should have counted for something. 

          The fact that one of the rotten little orphans had befouled her room with mud and muck had not helped matters. It had taken a group of children several hours to clean away the mess, and the faint stench of what smelled like violently expired cheese still clung to every surface in the room. And really...hadn't that just been the final straw? Ms. Crew had always attempted to be fair and impartial with the little beasts, treating them all with an equal amount of hatred, but this had been a mistake. She obviously wasn't working the children hard enough. She smiled to herself, thinking how that would change tomorrow. Oh, how it would change. And that was how she had drifted off to sleep, with dreams of dancing mops and crying children swimming through her mind. 

          She awoke with a start. Her heart was pounding and her palms felt clammy. She had been having a nightmare--of that she was positive--and it had been a very long time since Ms. Crew had had a nightmare of any sort. In her humble opinion, nightmares were meant for stupid children, not grown and rational adults. She rubbed at her forehead and frowned. The details of the dream were already sliding away, but she remembered a strange red light and the low, droning buzz it had made as it flickered and danced. Had it been a fire? No, the dream had been cold...perhaps even freezing, if the goosebumps dotting her arms and legs were any indication. And there had been something else in her dream...had it been a person? Yes, now she remembered the figure who had stood in the center of the frozen red blaze, his blond hair looking ghostly and white in the absence of all other colors. He had been small, possibly a child, but she simply couldn't remember who...

          Butterman.

          Yes. Of course it had been that nasty little Jonah. He had been standing beside her, his face pale and terrified. Had he been afraid of her, or had it been something else? She couldn't remember. Had she been afraid of him?

          Ms. Crew shook her head; this was ridiculous. It had been a childish nightmare...embarrassing, but hardly worth analyzing. She flicked on the overhead light, planning to read until she felt tired again. If she had been the type of woman who had friends, the tattered novel she pulled from her nightstand drawer would have surprised them all. It was called Living and Loving a Life of Wetworks, and its cover showed a marine tenderly cradling an obscenely large machine gun. A cigar dangled from his lips, and a blue scar trickled down his grizzled face. He didn't look like a happy man, which was exactly the way Ms. Crew liked her men. Books about war and mayhem were her secret shame, her only vice. She was simply unable to resist a story where lots of things blew up. She reached for her cigarettes--well, she had two vices, if you wanted to get technical--and lit one. She drew in the smoke and let out a wet, wheezing hack.

          She was just finishing the chapter where the commandos stormed the embassy and shot several bad men in the face when she first heard the voice. It was a tiny, distant thing, a voice that spoke in a dreamy sort of sing-songing hum, but it didn't sound like a child. Not in the slightest. This voice was cold.

          He's awake, too, you know.

          She jerked upright, instinctively hiding the novel from sight. "Who's there?" she called.

          Nobody answered, of course. She sighed and sat back, feeling frightened and foolish. She was forty-six years old, working a job where she hated and was hated in return, in very real danger of becoming an old spinster, and now she was hearing imaginary voices. It was all too much. Tomorrow she would start looking for a new job, one where she could be around adults all day long. Possibly even a branch of the military...

          I said, he's awake, too. Didn't you hear me?

          The voice didn’t sound like it was coming from inside the room. Ms. Crew looked around nervously. She had an insane notion that the voice was coming from inside her own head. And this was definitely not a good thing. People who began hearing imaginary voices tended to spend the rest of their lives eating gelatin and watching cartoons in a room with padded walls.

          I'm talking about Jonah. He's awake.

          "Jonah?" she repeated slowly. There was a buzzing noise echoing in the distance, and it seemed to throb and pulse with each breath she took. The lights in the room had somehow taken on a pale shade of crimson, and scarlet shadows danced on the walls. So this is what a nervous breakdown feels like, she thought with detached clarity. It should have been frightening, yet it wasn’t. The effects of the humming buzz and the soft red lights were incredibly peaceful...beautiful, really...and she could feel the tension slipping out of her body.

          Don't you want to know where he is? the voice persisted.

          "Where?" Her voice seemed loud and ugly in the room's mellow neon glow, like a crow's harsh squawk, and something somewhere winced in disgust. She could feel the wince. It was the strangest feeling.

          You don't have to say anything out loud. Just think it. I've got really good ears, you know. The voice giggled. It was the sound of drowning kittens in a burlap bag, an insane trill that would have driven ice water down the spine of even the stoutest man, but Ms. Crew didn't mind it one bit. She liked that voice. She thought she could listen to a voice like that forever.

          Where is he? she thought.

          He's downstairs, heading toward the kitchen. Leave now and you can still catch him.

          This seemed like a sensible idea, a real corker of a plan. She slipped out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. Her face held the dazed expression of a not-particularly-bright cow. The lights were so beautiful, she thought. Look at them, jumping and dancing around the room, spinning and spinning. It was like...she frowned, struggling for the right words...like...like a ballet of lights! Yes, that was it. She smiled, pleased with her analogy. She had never been a fan of the ballet before, but she certainly was now.

          You had better hurry, the voice pressed. There's not much time. The voice was sensible. Logical. A voice worth listening to. Ms. Crew reached for the door handle, her face frozen in an absent smile. She would catch the boy, then she would punish him, then she would watch the red lights forever.

*        *          *

          "HE SHOULD HAVE RETURNED BY NOW!" Aligore thundered. The dragon paced back and forth, his expression dark.

          "I'm sure he's fine!" Sally said. "It's a long trip to the kitchen and back."

          He turned on her. "YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE LET HIM GO."

          "Well, you should have told me that before we left! Honestly, how was I supposed to know that I was his baby-sitter?"

          Aligore brushed past her with an angry flick of his tail. "YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND," he said. "THE MARK OF THE RED KNIGHT HAS APPEARED IN THIS WORLD. WE ARE ALL IN TERRIBLE DANGER."

          Yap raised his hand politely, like a student waiting for the teacher to call on him. "Does the Red Knight want to kill and smoosh poor Yap, too, or just Jonah and Aligore and Sally?" he asked sweetly. "This is a very important question."

          Aligore stared down at Yap, fuming. "HE WILL HOPEFULLY KILL YOU FIRST. WHY DIDN’T YOU MENTION THE MARK EARLIER, YOU RIDICULOUS CREATURE?"

          The gnome flinched away, wailing. "Yap is sorry!" he cried. "Wise old fat baby dragon never told Yap about circles of dead buggy-bugs! Yap didn’t know they were dangerous and monsterish! Oh, woe is Yap!" His eyes rolled back in his head and he theatrically pretended to faint. Aligore glared at him. After a long moment, Yap smacked his lips and began to snore loudly.

          "It's not his fault," Sally said quietly. "He didn't know what the mark meant...none of us did. It was just a pile of dead bugs."

          Aligore closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "YES, I KNOW. AND I APOLOGIZE TO BOTH OF YOU FOR MY TEMPER."

          Yap sprang to his feet, his mock slumber forgotten. "And now the majestic tea party shall be held! Sound the trumpets and glaze the strumpets!" He dashed off and began to collect pebbles.

          Sally forced herself to ignore the insane little creature. "So what’s the deal with this mark?" she asked Aligore.

          The dragon sighed. "ONE OF THE RED KNIGHT'S MOST POWERFUL TALENTS IS HIS ABILITY TO CONTROL CREATURES WITH WEAK MINDS."

          Sally glanced at Yap, feeling rather nervous. "Weak minds, huh?"

          Aligore laughed grimly. "I DON’T THINK WE HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT HIM. ANYONE WHO TRIES TO ENTER THE MIND OF A GNOME WOULD MOST LIKELY BE LOST IN THERE FOREVER. GNOMES ARE STUPID, BUT THEIR MINDS ARE NOT SIMPLE."

          Yap frowned at this, trying to decide whether he had just been insulted or complimented.

          "NO," Aligore continued, "THE RED KNIGHT PREFERS INSECTS. IT IS SAID HE CAN SPEAK TO BUGS, SEE THROUGH THEIR EYES, EVEN BEND THEM TO HIS WILL.

          "WHEN HE ARRIVED IN THIS WORLD, HE LIKELY SENT OUT INSECT SPIES IN EVERY DIRECTION, TRYING TO LOCATE JONAH. THE MARK OF DEAD INSECTS MEANS HE SUCCEEDED, AND THEIR BODIES ARE NO DOUBT DRAWING HIM CLOSER EVEN AS WE SPEAK. YOU SAY THE SYMBOL WAS BROKEN BY JONAH, WHICH WILL HOPEFULLY SLOW THE KNIGHT'S PROGRESS. ASSUMING, OF COURSE, THAT HE IS NOT ALREADY HERE."

          Sally swallowed hard. She had expected bad news, but not this bad. "Tell me about the Red Knight. What else can he do? And how can we fight him?"

          "WE CANNOT. AT LEAST, I CANNOT. HIS ARMOR IS HELD TOGETHER BY MAGICAL FORCES, AND NO PHYSICAL BLOW CAN PENETRATE IT. THE PRINCESS IS THE ONLY MEMBER OF OUR GROUP WHO STANDS A CHANCE OF STOPPING THE KNIGHT, AND SHE IS WAITING IN RHYYNE WITH THE OTHERS, WHILE WE ARE TRAPPED HERE WITH THE KNIGHT." Aligore shook his head fiercely, like a wet dog shaking off water. His flashing eyes had faded to a dull and hopeless yellow glow.

          "So this Knight is one of the Sorceress's helpers?" Sally guessed.     

          "HE IS PART OF THE TRIAD," Aligore said, and something that might have been fear trembled in his voice. "THE TRIAD ARE REGINA CULL'S THREE MOST LOYAL AND FEARSOME WARRIORS. THEY LED THE ATTACK ON DELL'S HIGH CASTLE THAT CLAIMED THE LIVES OF THE KING AND QUEEN. MANY BELIEVE THE TRIAD ARE INDESTRUCTIBLE."

          "Do you believe that?"

          The dragon paused for a moment, but then he nodded. "I WATCHED THE BRAVEST AND STRONGEST MEN AND CREATURES I HAVE EVER KNOWN STAND GROUND BEFORE THE TRIAD, ONLY TO BE CUT DOWN EFFORTLESSLY. IF THERE IS A FORCE THAT CAN STOP THEM, I HAVE NOT YET ENCOUNTERED IT."

          "Yap is as stupid and worthless as a basket of gopherdogs!" the gnome howled, tired of being ignored. For good measure, he punched himself in the eye and fell over backwards.

          Sally knelt beside the gnome, her mind racing. She had an idea...a stupid, terrible idea that just might work. "Actually, Yap, you're not worthless," she said. "You can find Jonah for us! Aligore doesn't know the way, and I can't risk running into the night watchman,"--or the Red Knight, she thought, but there was no reason to say that aloud--"but you can teleport straight to the kitchen!"

          "No, nopers, nohow." The gnome shook his head and tried to look regretful. "Yap must know exactly where to teleport, otherwise Yap could splatter his beautiful guts inside a hard wall or the cruel ground! And Yap does not know where the kitchen is."

          "But you were there earlier!"

          "Yap forgot, though," he said softly.

          "GNOMES," Aligore spat, his voice laced with disgust.

          Sally wasn't willing to give up so easily. "Well, why don't you go through the ventilation shafts, the way you did earlier?" she asked.

          Yap's face twisted in agony. "No, no, cannot go," he mumbled. "Yap will get squished in a squashing shaft of doom, or run into the nasty Knight, or get lost forever and shrivel up into a ball of sadness and despair..." He trailed off, his small voice shaking.

          Sally sighed. "That's okay, Yap, you don't have to go. I'll do it."

          Yap's eyes widened. "But you mustn't, you stupid girl!" he cried.

          "I AGREE WITH THE COWARD," Aligore said. "IF ANYONE GOES, IT WILL BE ME."

          "You can't go," she said impatiently. "If anybody saw you, they would panic. I know I’d panic if I saw a nine hundred pound green monster walking down the hallway. And they'll call the police, and the police will shoot you, and scientists will take Yap away to some secret lab to run horrible tests on him, and the Red Knight will show up and kill Jonah, and then I'll be alone all over again."

          "HMM." Aligore worked this over. "GOOD POINT. YOU GO."

          "No, Sally!" Yap wrapped his arms around her leg and stared up at her, his expression pleading. "You mustn't go! Nighty Knight will split your pretty head in half and drink your brains, and then he will break your tea set and make precious Yap cry!"

          "I'll be fine." This was a lie, of course; she already felt sick to her stomach. And thanks to the gnome's suggestion, disgusting images of the Red Knight drinking her brains were now dancing through her imagination. She tried to brush the morbid thoughts away, but they returned with reinforcements. 

          "Mustn't," Yap muttered again. "Mustn't."

          She was shocked to see tears standing in the gnome’s enormous eyes. "Listen, I really will be fine," she repeated, prying herself out of his grip. She took a step back and gave him a reassuring smile.

          He shook his head once, quickly. "Yap will go," he whispered, spitting out the words as if they were too hot to hold in his mouth. He popped out of existence. Sally stared at the expanding cloud of green dust he had left behind, feeling strangely touched. She thought that might have been the single nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

          "HUH. GNOMES." Aligore shook his head. "JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU HAVE THEM ALL FIGURED OUT."

*        *          *

          There were a few scares and close calls, but Jonah reached the kitchen without any major problems. The orphanage was silent and dark around him. He pushed open the kitchen door and headed inside.

          The candy cupboard was something of a curious story. The candy was meant for the orphanage staff, naturally, since Ms. Crew complained loudly and often that candy made children ugly and stupid. For this reason, the headmistress had demanded that the orphanage's candy supply be hidden from the children. Mrs. Motts had tried her best to comply, placing the stash in a large cupboard and hiding it all behind several tubs of brussels sprouts.

          It is a peculiar fact of life that bad gossip flourishes in good places, while good gossip spreads quickly throughout bad places. This was especially true in the miserable orphanage, where the daily gossip always centered around whichever lucky child had just been chosen for adoption...how rich his new father was, how pretty her new mother was, and how happy they were all going to be together. Perhaps this is the reason why--less then four hours after Mrs. Motts had hidden her treasure trove of sweets--every single orphan in the building had known the candy's exact location. They hadn't taken the candy all at once, of course, merely a bit here and a handful there. And while Mrs. Motts must have known about the pilfering, she always used her own pocket money to refill the cupboard, and most importantly, she never complained or tattled on them, and they loved her for this.

          Jonah did feel guilty about raiding the candy cupboard, because he liked Mrs. Motts very much. Then he shoved the brussels sprouts aside and his guilt vanished. The candy cache was vast, more sweets than he could ever hope to carry. With any luck, Mrs. Motts wouldn't even notice that any candy had vanished. He stared with frank amazement. It was a child's dream and a dentist's nightmare.

          A bag of suckers, chocolate cupcakes, caramels, jawbreakers and licorice all went into the bag first. There wasn't much room left after that, and he tried to decide which snacks he would miss most. Peanut-butter crunch sticks? Chocolate-chip cookies? Bubble gum? He finally stuffed a few cookies into the bag and filled up the nooks and crannies with bubble gum and stray crunch sticks. By the end, the bag was packed with enough sugar to kill a healthy donkey.

          He glanced around the kitchen, feeling like he was missing something important. Then it came to him...soda pop, of course. There was no way to squeeze any cans into his already overflowing bag, but he needed at least one soda for the road. Who knew when he would get another chance? He hurried over to the refrigerator and grabbed a can, which he cracked open and drank as quickly as he could. It was ice-cold, and the bubbles burned pleasantly as they slid down the back of his throat. I'll sure miss this stuff, he thought sadly.

          The kitchen door banged open and light flooded the room. Jonah was too startled to scream, too frightened to even move. He simply stood there with his mouth hanging open as Destiny thundered down around him. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

          Ms. Crew stood in the doorway.

          "I...I'm sorry...I just came down to get a soda...very thirsty..." Jonah babbled. He was doing a poor job of hiding the duffel bag behind him. He tried some damage control: "I...uhh...found this bag." He swallowed hard. "Someone must have left it here. I tripped over it."

          Strangely enough, Ms. Crew didn't look angry. She looked more amused than anything else, her lips curled in a tiny half-smile. But when she spoke, her voice was flat and dead. "Jonah is in the kitchen. Such a naughty boy, here in the kitchen. And just where you said he’d be!" The smile never left her face, but now it looked plastic and artificial. There was something dark hiding just behind her eyes, something cold and full of anger.

          Jonah looked around nervously. Who was she talking to? Was there someone else in the room? "I'm sorry, ma'am," he tried again. "I couldn't sleep, and I thought...I thought..." His words failed him and he trailed off into a miserable silence. His heart was pounding so wildly that it seemed to be slamming against his ribcage, forcing the air from his lungs with each new beat. 

          "Should I punish him now or later?" Ms. Crew said to the person who was not there.

          There was no response.

          She smiled, as if she had just heard something pleasing. "Of course I will. Wicked boys must be punished. And then...after I finish...? The lights?" She smiled again and nodded. "Thank you," she said to nobody at all.

          Jonah took a step back. Ms. Crew had always been evil, but it had been a reasonable sort of evil, the sort that doesn't like children and yells at other people and acts rude for no good reason. Now he caught glimpses of something flickering in her eyes, something red and fierce, and Jonah realized that maybe he had never seen real evil before. But he was seeing it now, of that he was certain.

          Ms. Crew's eyes swiveled around and fixed on him. "Were you planning on running away, boy?" she asked, her voice patient. "Maybe going to live with your dragon friend? Hmm?"

          Jonah felt the bottom of his stomach drop away. They had found Aligore. "How...how did you know?" he finally managed.

          "My friend told me," she said, as if this explained everything. "He told me many things about you. About what a wicked boy you are. About how you were going to run away and get yourself hurt. About how I can save you."

          "Save me?" He took another step back.

          She smiled. "If I punish you, I can see the lights." She darted towards him. He leaped to the side, and for a moment it looked as if he would actually make it. Then her hand closed around his wrist and jerked him back, slamming him against the wall. Her grip was unbelievably strong; he could feel the bones in his wrist grinding together. With a cry, he gave up his struggles and lay motionless. After a moment, the crushing grip relaxed. Only slightly, though.

          "Good boy," she said coldly. "Now come with me and everything will be fine."

          Feeling completely helpless, Jonah allowed himself to be led out of the kitchen. It was over. Aligore must have been captured, probably along with Yap. And now the dragon and the gnome were likely on their way to either a laboratory or a zoo, while Jonah was being led toward a punishment he couldn't even begin to imagine, and all his dreams of a new life were melting away before his eyes.

*        *          *

          Ms. Crew stopped in the dining room. She stood with a rigid formality, but her eyes were vacant and her lips moved silently. The boy stared up at her, looking pale and weak.

          Well, I've got him, she thought. What now?

          Good! Excellent! The voice sounded cheerful.

          But what should I do with him?

          Well, the boy is like a bug...a nasty, crawling bug. We both know that, don't we?

          That's right, she agreed instantly.

          And where are most of the bugs in this castle? the voice asked innocently.

          She frowned, a little uncertain. Castle?

          Whatever you call it. Does your building have a dungeon?

          Um...we have a basement.

          The voice chuckled, as if she had just made a knee-slapping good joke. Basement, dungeon...it's all the same. That's the place for a crawling little bug, wouldn't you agree?

          She smiled, pleased with herself. And after I put him in the basement, can I see the lights again? The lights had filled her mind; she couldn't stop thinking about them.

          Of course you can. The voice was low and soothing. You can see them for as long as you want.

          I want to see them forever. Her smile arched its way across her bony face.

          Then hurry! Forever doesn't wait around forever!

          Yes, of course.

          "Ma'am? Are you okay?" The child sounded scared, and this was a good thing. Without a word, she jerked him forward again, pulling him toward the basement door.

*        *          *

          Back in the kitchen, two large eyes appeared behind the vent above the stove. The kitchen was empty, but the cupboards were standing open and a few pieces of bubble gum lay on a nearby counter. Someone had been here recently.

          "Jonah?" the gnome called softly. "Is plump and lovable Jonah down there, sleeping and stinking somewhere?"

          There was no response. Yap let out a little moan. His eyes disappeared from behind the grate. A second later the air in the kitchen belched and twisted as Yap reappeared in a cloud of smoke. He scurried to the open doorway and peered out. The hallway was deserted.

          Where could Jonah have gone? The orphanage was frightening and unfamiliar around him, and Yap was no good at tracking. For that matter, he was also no good at following directions, or being quiet, or being brave, or remembering what he was supposed to be doing, or not being afraid of the dark, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. No, he courageously decided, finding Jonah would simply be too dangerous. If the boy needed Yap's help, he would just have to die instead. Yap was leaving. He would go upstairs, maybe have a quick tea party, and then hide under Sally's bed until this whole nasty business blew over. "Good luck, Jonah!" he said cheerfully to the empty hallway. "Hope you don't die!"

          As if in response, a faint noise drifted out of the darkness. Yap's ears perked up. It had sounded like Jonah. He had sounded frightened.

          Yap moaned. He knew he had made a promise to Sally, but he didn't care. It had been a stupid promise, and he was a notorious liar. Let the Red Knight kill Jonah...Yap had been fine before Jonah had entered the picture, and he would be fine after the boy was gone.

          But Jonah had sounded scared. He had sounded like he needed help.

          Summoning up his courage--it didn't take long, since there wasn't much of it--the gnome slunk out of the kitchen and headed down the narrow hallway. He kept close to the shadows, trying to look in every direction at once and failing often. The hallway ended and Yap entered a large room filled with tables and chairs. He had seen places like this before while peering through the windows of fortresses and taverns. This was the place where humans came to eat and drink and make noise. He nimbly leaped onto one of the tables and cocked his head to the side, listening.

          Nothing.

          "Rotten Jonah, where are you hiding and abiding?" Yap muttered. This was hopeless... There were simply too many doors and corridors to choose from.

          "No, not in there!" Jonah's voice came from beneath a half-open door in the corner of the room, faint and panicked. Yap crept over to the doorway, his heart pounding.

          Dank concrete steps sank down into the darkness. A haze of spiderwebs hung from the ceiling above him, and the smack of wet decay met his nose. Yap knew what places like this were called: dungeons. He had heard terrible stories about what humans did to each other in dungeons...hurtings and beatings and random bits of stabbing. If Jonah had been taken into a dungeon, he must be in great danger.

          "This is stupid," the gnome mumbled. "Yap is going to die in a big bloody sploosh of blood, and it's all fat Jonah's fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid Jonah."

          Still muttering, he started down the basement steps.

*        *          *

          Jonah had assumed Ms. Crew was either leading him back to his room or to her office, but the basement stairs had been a nasty shock. When she opened the door and Jonah saw the dark staircase spilling out beneath him, he began to twist and squirm in her grip, trying to break free. She shoved him forward, smiling her dead smile the entire time. 

          "Let me go!" he cried, no longer caring if he woke the rest of the orphanage. A few witnesses suddenly didn't seem like a bad thing. He opened his mouth to scream again, but one of her hands closed over his mouth.

          "Hush, little baby," she breathed. "Don't say a word." Then she let out a shrill, squeaking giggle that made him wince. 

          They reached the bottom of the staircase and she led him down a dim passageway. He stumbled once, and she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him along, his bare feet barely scraping against the concrete. Pale snatches of moonlight bled through the basement windows, but the light did little to illuminate the corridor. They finally reached a row of supply rooms. Ms. Crew threw the deadbolt on the nearest door and dragged it open, its hinges squealing in protest. Only darkness lay beyond the doorframe.

          "No, not in there!" Jonah cried, but she gave him another hard shove and he tumbled forward. He collided with a stack of boxes and fell to the floor.

          "You stay in there until my friend arrives," Ms. Crew said. "He'll be here soon, little bugchild, and then you'll regret your disobedience. Oh, you'll regret so much." Jonah whirled around, preparing to say something extremely rude in response. The words never left his mouth.

          Tiny red pinpricks of light were glowing deep within Ms. Crew's eyes, red-hot needles in the night. She was smiling.

          She's being controlled, Jonah realized with a shudder of horror. Someone or something was controlling Ms. Crew, steering her like a rusty old automobile. And Jonah was going to be locked in this cell until that something arrived to claim him. After that, he couldn't even imagine what would happen.

          "Please...don't!" he yelled, but it was already too late. The large metal door swung shut and the light drained from the room.

          It was over. Everything was over. He collapsed to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

          He had never felt so alone in his entire life.

*        *          *

          Her task completed, Ms. Crew leaned against the basement wall and gradually slumped down into a seated position. The dancing red pinpricks in her eyes expanded. Her face grew slack and her jaw dropped open. She made amazed little "oooh" and "ahhhh" noises periodically, and a bit of spittle fell from her mouth. Even cows were incapable of looking this utterly stupid.

          Watching from the shadows, Yap grimaced. He didn't know why the nasty lady had red eyes, but she didn't seem dangerous at the moment. In fact, she vaguely resembled Yap's Uncle Gunk, who had an affinity for human wine and was often groggy to the point of vomiting and unconsciousness. Nevertheless, Yap didn’t draw closer. He didn't want those bright red eyes to suddenly snap into focus.

          He examined the door the nasty woman had thrown Jonah through. It appeared to be made out of metal, and the iron latch looked too heavy for him to budge. Aligore (or possibly Sally) could have opened the door, but Yap was small and weak, not to mention absolutely terrified. He took one last look at the crazy lady with the fire-eyes, shuddered, and turned and fled back down the corridor.

          Tiny red eyes watched him go.

*        *          *

          It's hard to imagine how Jonah felt as he sat in the empty storage room. He was frightened, of course, but even worse was the sense of absolute despair that settled down around him. Meeting Aligore and Yap had given him the hope of a new life, one filled with excitement, adventure, and good friends...everything he had ever wanted. And now he sat alone in the dark, waiting for a monster that would either kill him or pass him along to an even worse monster, and it seemed like a miserable end to a life that had never been very good in the first place. It was all so unfair.

          To his credit, Jonah only spent a few minutes feeling sorry for himself. Then he sighed heavily, rubbed his bleary eyes, and set about investigating the room. It didn't take long, since the room was only a few paces long in any direction. He fiddled with the door handle, but it was locked from the other side. He kicked one of the boxes angrily and its contents scattered across the room.

          Maybe he could find something useful in one of the boxes? It was a possibility, but fumbling through all the boxes without any light would take hours that he didn't have. He needed a source of light. He knew fire could be made using two sticks, but he didn't have any sticks, and he wasn't sure how the process worked anyway. Weren't you supposed to rub the sticks together? He had seen it on television once. It had looked complicated.

          Wish I had a flashlight..., he thought. He chewed on his lower lip. Almost without thinking, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His right hand brushed against something small and leathery, and his heart skipped a beat. It seemed too lucky to be true. Could it really be...?

          Before he could investigate further, one of the boxes in the room suddenly fell over with a tinkling crash. And then, very softly, something cursed under its breath.

          Jonah froze. Had the monster arrived for him already? "Who...who's there?" he croaked, hoping he sounded more intimidating than he felt.

          The room was silent for a moment, then light suddenly flared.

          Jonah stared at the three penguins.

          The three penguins stared at Jonah.

          "Aw, crap," he said. "I'm insane again."

          The largest penguin was holding a silver lighter, which flickered and sputtered in the gloom. He held his clipboard up next to the flame and peered at it for a moment. Then he examined Jonah intently, making little clucking noises with his beak. Apparently satisfied by what he saw, the penguin passed the clipboard to one of his companions and waddled forward. "Yup, ya're da Anomaly," it squawked. "I remembers ya."

          Jonah said nothing. His brain felt like it was twisting itself into tight little knots of stupidity, making him too dumb to even think of a good metaphor for how dumb he was. I really am insane, he realized. Totally, completely insane. The pressure was too much and I snapped. For some reason, he found this embarrassing.

          The penguin stopped in front of Jonah and cleared his throat officiously. "Da name is Norm, by da way. Temp'ral Penguin #413. On da date of 3.221.599E18.3, Earth Vector, ya were visited by t'ree agents, including m'self, were ya not?"

          "I thought that was a dream," Jonah said slowly.

          "Well, it waddn't. But ya wuz visited by t'ree agents, correct?"

          "Um...yeah, I guess so."

          "Speak into da recorder, please. Dis conversation is bein' recorded for culp'bility and liab'lity purposes." Jonah looked closer and saw the penguin was holding a tiny metal box. He repeated his statement into the recorder. The penguin looked pleased. "Now den, do ya remembers da warning ya received on da aforementioned date?"

          "Something stupid about not destroying the universe, right?"

          The penguin named Norm took a step back, and his eyes widened. "Stupid? Ya call destroyin' da universe stupid?" The other two penguins clucked their disapproval at this blatant disregard for the cosmos.

          Jonah stared at them. "I'm just a kid," he said. "How am I supposed to destroy the universe?"

          Norm looked uncomfortable. "Dat's priv'liged information, Mr. Anomaly. Can't tell ya dat without disruptin' da course of history or something. Still, ever since we traced da Anomaly rift to yar approx'mate location, we've seen da rift growing larger. All da data points to dis very night as da focal point for da Anomaly Convergence...do ya know what dat means?" Jonah shook his head mutely, and the penguin continued. "Dat means dat da events o' dis night are gonna determine da fate o' da universe. Right now, ya could either set off a chain o' events dat would destroy everything we know and hold dear, or..."

          "Or what?" Jonah asked.

          Norm shrugged. "Or ya could not. Beats me. I jus' work here, dat's all. But I gotta say, da rift is growing, so da odds ain't 'xactly in yar favor at da moment, Mr. Anomaly."

          An idea suddenly struck Jonah. It was worth a shot. "Listen, I'm trapped in this room, and there's some sort of monster on its way here right now. I think it might be coming to kill me. Maybe that is the big event that happens tonight...maybe my death winds up destroying the universe! You guys have to help me escape!"  

          The penguins exchanged a glance. "Ahh...no," Norm finally said. "I don't t'ink so. Most of our data suggests dat having ya die would actually be a very, very good thing."

          This seemed rather offensive. "Well, I don't like your data," Jonah said.

          The penguin prodded Jonah's knee with his flipper. He looked angry. "Listen, dis ain't da time for jokes! Something is gonna happen, and dat something is gonna lead to something else, and dat something else is gonna end up destroyin' da universe, and it all starts here tonight!"

          "Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Jonah practically shouted. "In case you stupid little things haven't noticed, my options are kinda limited at the moment! I'm locked in a room with no way to contact my friends, there's some horrible monster coming after me, and now you're trying to blame me for somehow destroying the universe sometime in the future? Is everyone here insane, or is it just me?"

          Norm locked eyes with him for a moment, then turned away. "Let's go, boys," he said sadly. "Ain't nothing else we can do here. We tried."

          Moving quickly, Jonah leaned forward and plucked the silver lighter from Norm's flipper. The penguin squawked again. "Gimme dat back, ya little bum!" he howled. "Dat's larceny! My rights is bein' impinged!"

          "If you're not gonna help me, get out of here," Jonah said coldly. "I've got an escape to plan."

          "I knew ya was a bum, right from da first time I laid eyes on ya!" Norm continued furiously. "Why, if ya was about t'ree feet shorter, and if it waddn't expressly forbid by comp'ny policy, I would whup da snot right outta ya! I would peck ya right in da eyeballs until they 'xploded and ya wuz cryin' for ya mommy and den I'd make ya eatcher eyballs and awwwrk awwwrk awwwrk!" He trailed off into gibberish, too angry to speak. He was waggling his little flippers in what could only be assumed was a menacing fashion.

          "Do you want me to destroy the universe right now?" Jonah asked.

          The penguins looked shocked. "Err...no," Norm said. "Please don't do dat."

          "Then get out of here."

          A moment later, the three penguins had become chicks. A moment after that, the chicks had become eggs. And a moment after that, the eggs had winked out of existence.

*        *          *

          Jonah stared at the lighter, waiting for it to fade away like the imaginary penguins. It didn't. In fact, it felt quite solid and reassuring in his hand. He turned it over, examining the fine details. It was like no lighter he had ever seen before, with blinking diodes and a long, slender funnel that emitted a wisp of pale white flame. The flame was small, yet it somehow managed to light the entire room with ease. Jonah frowned. The lighter was strange, but it was also real.

          No. He couldn't think about that, couldn't dwell on the fact that it stubbornly continued to exist. Because if the lighter was real, that meant the penguins had been real as well. And if the penguins had been real, that meant their nonsense about Jonah destroying the universe might have also been real, and that wasn’t something he wanted to consider. They made me sound like a monster, he thought. But I'm not. I'm just a kid...a normal, boring, useless kid.

          He pushed the penguins and their apocalyptic prophecies out of his mind. He could deal with them later...if he survived the night. And for the first time, that actually seemed like a remote possibility. Jonah slid his hand into his pocket and smiled. Ms. Crew had forgotten one crucial detail when she locked him in this room. She had forgotten to check his pockets. He pulled out the tiny leather pouch and held it up to the light. His smile became an outright grin.

          The pouch itself was unremarkable in appearance, but he remembered it well. He had confiscated it from Yap after the gnome had used its contents to shrink an entire kitchen. It was gnome shrinking powder.  

          Yes. Yes. Oh, yes.

          He suddenly realized he had only taken Yap's shrinking powder, completely forgetting the growing powder, but that didn't matter. After he escaped, Yap would be able to restore him to his proper size. And while finding Yap wouldn't be easy, it beat the alternative, which was probably bloody, crunching death.

          He would have to shrink himself. After that was accomplished, could he hide himself somewhere in the clutter of boxes, hoping the monster would arrive, see the empty room, and leave without searching? No, that was far too risky. He had to escape. He glanced around. There was at least a quarter-inch of space between the bottom of the door and the floor, which would be more than enough room after he shrank...but what if Ms. Crew saw him? He imagined the way her eyes would glow crimson as she strode across the room to scoop him up--or, even worse, stomp him into a gooey paste--and he let out a shudder. It seemed safer to escape through one of the many cracks running along the base of the wall.

          He began to crawl around the room on his hands and knees, shining the lighter into every crack and crevice he found. Most of them were obnoxiously tiny, barely slivers of darkness. He was afraid to go that far, remembering how Yap had boasted about shrinking objects right out of existence. He finally found what he was looking for behind a pile of musty old newspapers. It appeared to be a mouse hole, which meant it probably led somewhere. Mice were decisive that way. The hole was almost two inches high. He lay flat against the floor and aimed the lighter at the hole. It looked okay.

          Despite the urgency of the situation, Jonah sat there in the near-darkness for several minutes, trying to muster his courage. He knew he was in danger, and he knew this was his only real hope of escape, but that didn't change the fact that he was terrified. He was going to shrink himself, for crying out loud! It seemed like spitting in the face of Common Sense, and then stealing its lunch money for good measure. And then there were the questions: How much powder should he use? What if he used too much? What if he kept growing smaller and smaller until he simply disappeared? What if he got lost in the mouse tunnel? What if the tunnel led downwards into a sewer, or branched off into a thousand different twisting paths? What if the mice didn't take kindly to trespassers? Were mice carnivorous? What if they ate him?  

          Also, his shoes were sitting back in the kitchen, tied firmly to the straps of his duffel bag, and this seemed problematic. Great escapes usually required shoes.

          "I'm gonna die," Jonah muttered. "I'm so gonna die."

          He opened Yap's pouch and peered inside. The dust in the pouch seemed to shimmer and glow, as if lit from within. He took a tiny pinch of powder and tossed it in the air above his head. It sprinkled down around him in a haze of reflected firelight, clinging to his hair, shining on the fabric of his shirt, simmering softly like a million baby fireflies. He waited anxiously, his breath held, but nothing seemed to happen.

          Maybe I need to use more, he thought. He glanced around and stopped short. The cardboard boxes, previously only a few feet tall, were suddenly resting at eye-level. "I'm shrunk," he whispered. Then he grinned. It was the strangest sensation...terrifying and insane and fantastically cool all at once.

          The next time he used considerably less dust and dropped another foot. The third time he only used a few grains of powder, bringing him to a height of about six inches. Almost there. He reached into the pouch, his fingers trembling. Here goes nothing, he thought. Hopefully that nothing won't be me.

          The final time he used so little powder that he began to wonder if he had used any at all. He was debating reaching for a few more specks of dust when he suddenly realized he was slightly less than one inch tall. He swallowed hard; that had been too close for comfort. He laced up the pouch's drawstrings and stuffed it back in his pocket, trying not to imagine what would happen if the pouch burst and spilled powder all over his leg.

          The miniaturized version of the penguin's lighter still worked, thankfully, although now it naturally put out less light. Still, Jonah could have stood there for hours, staring at cardboard boxes that looked like skyscrapers, suitcase handles the size of locomotives, and the basketball-sized pebbles littering the floor. The ceiling had vanished high above him, and darkness hung in its place like a starless night sky. It was the most incredible moment of Jonah's young life. He couldn't stop grinning.

          He eventually forced himself to get moving, and he hurried over to the mouse hole and stepped inside. The air was musty and hot in here, and the fruity odor of old mouse droppings made his eyes water. There were droppings everywhere. This would not be the last time in his adventures that Jonah would wish for his tennis shoes, but it was perhaps the most heartfelt. Holding his nose and grimacing, he headed off into the darkness.

*        *          *

          Yap had made it back to the kitchen's ventilation shaft without incident, but it hadn't taken long before things had gone horribly, stupidly wrong. First he had made a left turn instead of choosing the right direction, which had led him to a dead-end grate overlooking the dining room. Cursing his poor, sloshing brains, Yap had hurried back in the opposite direction. But he had been distracted trying to remember the punchline to his favorite dirty Dwarf joke, which had caused him to miss his turn once again. Now he was lost somewhere deep inside the orphanage's ventilation system, feeling very useless and frightened, and also slightly hungry, which simply made matters worse.                   He reached another branching path and hesitated. Lefty-left or righty-right? He chose the latter, basing his decision less on memory and more on the fact that "righty-right" was more fun to say. He scampered into the shaft and continued for some hundred yards until the path abruptly forked once more. Yap groaned, but again he chose the path on the right, since that seemed to be working for him.

          After some time, however, the shaft still had not branched upwards and he knew he was lost. He sat down and began to blubber softly. Jonah was going to die, and it would be all his fault, and she would be mad at him. "Poor, poor Yap," he said mournfully.  

          He suddenly stopped crying (he was very good at turning the waterworks on and off when it suited his purposes) and cocked an ear. There was a sound echoing from the path behind him, a soft clacking. Scared yet curious, he crept in the direction of the noise.

          Nik. Nik. Nik.

          Yap leaned forward, listening intently. The sound was very close now. He had no idea what it could be; this new world was full of strange and terrifying machines. So many things here hummed and whirred and crackled, and nobody ever seemed to mind, but it was all very frightening to Yap. He slunk around the corner, expecting the worst.

          It was worse than he had expected. An army of tiny red eyes met him, none larger than the eye of a needle. Yap whimpered and backed away, but the eyes advanced a step, holding the distance between them. And now Yap heard a new noise, a low buzzing and chirping and clacking and gnashing noise, the undercurrent of a thousand pairs of legs, wings, and mouths, and he suddenly realized what they were.

          "Nice buggy-bugs," he murmured. "Yap loves all buggy-bugs very much."

          The glittering rows watched him, still and unblinking.

          "Yap loves buggy-bugs more than anything, even more than monkey-fruit and mashed taters!" he insisted. He couldn't understand what the insects wanted. Were they angry with him?

          In the puddle of cluttered stupidity that was Yap's memory, Aligore's voice fought its way to the surface: "IT IS SAID HE CAN SPEAK TO BUGS, SEE THROUGH THEIR EYES, EVEN BEND THEM TO HIS WILL." Suddenly everything clicked into place...the Red Knight was somehow inside the bugs. Anger swelled in Yap's tiny chest.

          "Yap loves buggy-bugs," he said loudly, "but Yap does not love the STUPID, STINK-GUZZLING RED KNIGHT!" And then, surprising even himself, Yap thrust out his tongue and blew a defiant raspberry.

          A collective hiss of anger escaped from the insects, and they swarmed toward him, hopping and flapping and scuttling and crawling, their tiny eyes glowing in the darkness. Yap let out a shrill squeal and darted back down the ventilation shaft, running as fast as he could. The insects matched his pace with frightening ease. Several of them darted forward and stung at his hindquarters. Yap howled and increased his speed. He had no idea where this particular shaft led, but he knew he was doomed if he reached another dead end.

          In the rooms below, a number of children suddenly awoke, convinced they had just heard muffled cries in the night, followed by what had sounded like a roaring buzzsaw passing through the ceiling above. Most of the children simply assumed it had been a dream and drifted back to sleep.

          But not for long.

          Things were about to get strange in the orphanage.

*        *          *

          The penguin lighter had grown too hot to hold. Jonah stood there in the darkness, waiting for the lighter to cool and trying not to think horrible thoughts about being buried alive. His grand escape plan now seemed like a very bad idea indeed. The ground was sticky and wet beneath his feet, and the tunnel was surprisingly chilly. His back ached from walking in a hunched-over position, and his eyes hurt from squinting through the gloom. Worst of all, the cracked stone walls seemed to be closing in around him. He had always known that he was afraid of heights, and now it appeared he could add claustrophobia to his ever-growing list of shame. He hated this tunnel, hated the oppressive silence, hated the old dead air, hated the sensation of being trapped and helpless.

          Wonder what will happen if this shrinking powder wears off, he thought. He didn't want to imagine what a regular-sized boy squeezed inside a one-inch hole would look like, but he knew it would involve a lot of splattering. He fought back a shudder, flipped the lighter on, and resumed walking. He had not encountered any creatures in the mouse hole--Yet, he thought glumly--but several times he had heard strange clicking and rustling sounds in the distance.

          His escape plan seemed more foolhardy with each passing step. He had assumed he could simply hide in an adjacent storage room until Ms. Crew and the monsters left, but what if they came searching for him? And even if they didn't find him, how would he ever rejoin his friends? He could never make his way up to the roof where Aligore and Yap were waiting, since climbing four flights of stairs was out of the question in his present condition. For that matter, he didn't even know if he would be able to manage the basement stairs. It would be a cruel twist of fate if he escaped from the monsters only to starve to death because he couldn't climb a single staircase.

          "I wish I could teleport," he muttered crossly.

          There was a sudden rustling sound, and Jonah spun around. In the darkness behind him, things were moving. He caught a quick glimpse of glowing red eyes and skittering legs before the creature vanished back into the shadows.

          He had been discovered.

          He turned and ran. The black creature hissed as it gave chase. Jonah risked a glance over his shoulder, but at that moment his foot caught on a rock and he tumbled headfirst into a puddle of mud. The lighter flew from his hands and darkness swallowed him whole.

          Something snarled.

          "No, no, no..." Jonah whispered. He pawed through the sludge desperately, searching for the lighter. There was a dry, scuttling sound from behind him, but he didn't dare look back. He plunged his hands into the slime again and his fingers brushed against the lighter. He lifted it triumphantly and flicked the switch.

          The lighter let out a wet, clogged wheeze. It was dead.

          Jonah turned to face a pair of scarlet eyes floating in the darkness. He caught a quick glimpse of spiked legs furiously propelling a segmented body that glistened and glimmered like polished cobalt. The creature was the size of a station wagon.

          Jonah flicked the lighter again. Nothing happened.

          The giant cockroach rushed toward him.

*        *          *

          The old tomcat was hungry. It had already patrolled the pond, hoping that perhaps a tasty dead fish had washed up on the bank, but it had found nothing. It had caught a careless cricket earlier, but the insect hadn't provided much nourishment. It needed more. Now the tomcat prowled the edge the forest, feeling irritable and skittish. It generally avoided the forest, which was sometimes filled with much larger and hungrier creatures than itself, but right now it was too hungry to care about danger. It followed the row of shrubbery, its yellow eyes peering through the gloom.

          The tomcat paused, suddenly confused. The underbrush was badly torn and uprooted here, as if something large and angry had recently blasted its way out of the forest. The tomcat crept closer, its body pressed low against the dry grass, ears pricked for the first sign of danger.

          Whatever had come from the forest had definitely been big. The tomcat stared at an uprooted tree, its base ripped almost in half. Splinters of jagged wood poked up into the night sky. A trail of heavy footprints leading out of the forest had been beaten into the soft dirt. After years of surviving on its wits alone, the tomcat had learned to recognize the footprints of both dangerous opponents and delicious prey, but it didn't recognize these prints. They were large, far larger than a human's foot, but missing the indentations caused by toes or claws. The tomcat flicked its tail, slightly worried, but it turned and followed the trail of destruction up the hill. It is often said that cats are curious, but the truth of the matter is that cats are merely stupid. The tomcat knew that something was wrong here tonight, and it wanted to investigate. Curiosity has killed cats before, but it doesn't hold a candle to Stupid.

          The prints led directly to the stone building that sat atop the hill. This building was the orphanage, of course, but that tomcat neither knew nor cared about things like that. It was only concerned with following the footprints and perhaps finding something tasty to eat along the way. It rounded the corner of the building and crept through the shadows, its eyes alert.

          The tomcat stopped again. It didn't know much about human dwellings, but it realized something was not right here. The large footprints made their way to the front door of the building, which had been casually ripped from its hinges. As the tomcat stared at the jagged hole where a door had once stood, a faint odor of decay reached its nose. The smell conjured up terrible, dog-like images of danger and violence, and the hackles on the tomcat's neck stood at attention. Without knowing why, it hissed angrily.

          Strange noises were coming from inside the building. Some of the sounds were human voices, agitated and frightened, but many of them were not. And there was that smell...worse than any rotting food or spoiled milk. Showing uncommon sense for a cat, the animal suddenly decided that finding food wasn't as important as getting far away from these ridiculous humans. Something bad was inside that building...something strong and cruel and very, very dangerous.

          The tomcat slunk away into the night as quickly as its legs would carry it, never looking back.

CHAPTER SEVEN:

THE DJINN DIRECTIVE

          The three penguins materialized in a large room filled with blinking computer monitors. The room wasn't here, but it really wasn't there, either. It was the type of room you could never find if you were actually looking for it, which meant it was a very important room indeed. The temperature control was set to a mild forty-two degrees, which was just how the penguins liked it.

          Norm waddled up to the largest monitor and cleared his throat nervously. "Uh...sir? Is ya there?"

          The monitor flashed green.

          Norm looked uncomfortable. "As per yar instructions, my assoc'ates and I made contact with da human child b'lieved to be da Anomaly for a second time. Once 'gain, da Anomaly refused to not destroy da universe. Oh...and he stole my fav'rite lighter. Da silver one, with da little flashy doohickeys."

          The monitor flashed red.

          Norm glanced at the other penguins for support. They shrugged helplessly. Norm turned back to the monitor. "Wit all due respect, sir, I t'ink it's time to auth'rize da Djinns. We need to destroy dis Anomaly b'fore it's too late."

          The monitor was silent for a moment. There was a soft whirring noise, and its screen briefly flashed green once more.

          Norm looked relieved. "Yessir, sir. Right away, sir. I'll send down da auth'rization codes for da Djinns at once. Dat Anomaly ain't gonna stand a chance once those t'ings show up!" He squawked laughter.

          The monitor remained silent and dark.

*        *          *

          For a few breathless minutes, it seemed like Yap might actually escape. The insect swarm was fast and maneuverable, true, but Yap had one distinct advantage...he was the biggest coward in this world or any other. This would typically be considered a weakness, but in a footrace, it made all the difference. His fear was keeping him one step ahead of the insects, and that one step was keeping him alive.

          He made a "WaaaaAAAaaaaAAAAaaagh!" sound as he went. It wasn't a particularly noble flight.

          The insects followed, their eyes glittering cold in the shadows. They could afford to be patient. Thanks to the alien presence sharing their minds, the insects felt no pain or fatigue. The gnome would reach a dead end or drop from exhaustion sooner or later, and then they would have him.

          A pit appeared before Yap, a narrow vertical shaft running straight down. He leaped over the pit and continued running. Behind him, several crawling insects were not so lucky, and they let out mournful little sighs as they tumbled down into the darkness. Yap increased his speed. This particular shaft ran in a straight line for more than twenty yards. It would be a close call, but it might be long enough. If he was lucky. 

          The first rule every young gnome is taught is Never teleport without knowing exactly where you will land. Careless gnomes who ignored this warning often ended their lives as nothing more than a pair of legs sticking out of a solid wall. This was a stupid and humiliating way to die, especially when other gnomes used your legs as a coat rack or doorstop. Gnomes simply did not teleport blindly. It was too dangerous. Yap was hesitant to break this rule, but at the moment, he didn't mind bending it a bit. And while backwards teleportation would be tricky, it wasn't impossible.

          Up ahead, the ventilation shaft snaked around a corner. Yap slowed his pace a bit, allowing the insects to close the distance between them. The buzzing and clacking grew exponentially louder. Just as the first insect reached him, Yap closed his eyes and teleported nineteen yards straight behind himself, back to the beginning of the shaft. It was difficult to teleport without a visual reference, and he almost lost it, almost felt himself sliding sideways into the nearest wall. He corrected his trajectory slightly and slipped back into reality, appearing safely in the center of the narrow steel tube. In the distance, the insect swarm collided with the ball of smoke Yap had left behind. The buzzing noises grew agitated as the insects realized they had lost their prey.

          "Stupid buggy-bugs," Yap mumbled, turning away. "That's what you get for defying the almighty Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathud." He said this last part because he had unwittingly stepped right into the same vertical shaft he had leaped across mere seconds ago. He tumbled into the pit with a scream.

          When his vision finally cleared, Yap found himself at the bottom of the shaft. One of his legs was wedged beneath him at an awkward angle. Well, he thought slowly, that wasn't too bad.

          There was a roar of wings, and the insects landed on him.

          He kicked and struggled, but it is difficult to put up much of a fight when you are stuck at the bottom of a narrow exhaust shaft. Yap felt the insects swarming over him, biting and stinging, scraping and clawing, and he realized he had just run out of options.

          Taking a deep breath, he teleported straight up, as high as he could possibly go.

          The red lights were already fading from the eyes of the insects by the time the smoke finally cleared. The bugs stared at each other, lost and more than a little confused.

          "Bzzz?" one of the flies asked.

          "Yhhh," a spider added.

          "Zunka zunka zunka," said a centipede.

          "Whuuuuhhhhuuhhurk," a beetle rumbled.

          This went on for quite a while. It was depressing stuff, to be perfectly honest. There's a reason why epic tales of adventure are never written about insects, and that reason is because insects are boring and stupid.

*        *          *

          The roach loomed over Jonah. Its red eyes cut through the darkness like twin spotlights. Jonah danced backwards as the creature came at him. Its jaws unhinged and dropped like a drawbridge, wide and wet and glistening with tiny curved teeth. Jonah desperately thumbed the lighter's switch one last time, and he was rewarded with a sudden flare of light. He thrust the lighter forward and waved it wildly. The roach hissed and drew back, staring at the fire with a squinty mixture of fear and confusion. Jonah took another step back. The roach advanced, but it seemed careful to keep its distance.

          From Jonah's perspective, the roach was enormous. It was horrible and fascinating at the same time. The creature's body was a mass of coiled muscle, its legs moving like great pistons, and it was quicker than sin. Its shell was actually not smooth at all…it was pockmarked by tiny craters and indentations, like the hood of an automobile that had barely survived a nasty hailstorm. The roach's legs were covered with sharp bristles of hair that looked razor-sharp, and saliva dribbled from its open mouth in steaming little puddles. The creature's eyes blazed with an eerie scarlet fire. It let out a short, coughing bark and advanced again.

          "Get out of here!" Jonah bellowed, waving his lighter back and forth. "Go on! Giddyup! Go!" He hoped he sounded braver than he felt.

          The roach cocked its head to the side. It took another step forward.

          Guess it doesn't speak English, Jonah thought grimly. Stupid roach. If I ever get big again, I'm coming back down here to squish you.

          The roach darted in close, moving with frightening speed, and Jonah leaped back just in time, stabbing with the lighter and shouting gibberish. The flame brushed against one of the roach's antennae and the creature scuttled back into the gloom, hissing furiously.

          WHAP! Something warm slammed into the back of Jonah's legs and he fell. His head cracked against the ground and silver streaks of pain lanced across his vision. The lighter slipped from his grasp and the tunnel was plunged into darkness. He reached for the lighter again, but he was hit with another blast of warm goo and his arm was instantly pinned to his side. At first he had no idea what the sticky mess could be, but then he felt the goo solidifying, pinning him to the ground with frightening ease, and he realized the roach was not alone. He was covered with webbing

          Two spiders appeared above him, snarling and snapping. Each was the size of a timber wolf, and their segmented eyes blazed like dark rubies. The roach towered over the spiders, staring down at Jonah with a sort of horrible satisfaction.

          He closed his eyes and waited for the first bite.

*        *          *

          "Are you scared?" Sally asked.

          Aligore thought for a moment, then nodded. For some reason, Sally found this comforting.

          They sat there in silence, watching and waiting.

*        *          *

          The insects didn't kill Jonah, of course. The world is full of cautionary tales about children who played with magic only to be terrorized and eaten by gigantic carnivorous insects, but none of these stories are much fun, and most of them are fairly short. This is not one of those tales.

          The insects would have liked to eat Jonah, there can be no doubt about this. The roach had spent its entire life skittering away from clumsy humans and their great stomping feet, which tends to build up a prejudice against two-leggers fairly quickly. The roach enjoyed sliming its way across the human food stored in the kitchen, and occasionally it would wriggle through a child's hair in the middle of the night, just for fun, but that was all petty revenge. It had finally found a human small enough to destroy and devour, and it wanted nothing more than to do so. Yet it didn't.

          The spiders, on the other hand, were merely curious what the human tasted like. It doesn't take much effort to convince a spider to kill. But they didn't bite the human either...not even so much as a nibble. 

          The reason was the other, the strange buzzing red thing that had forced its way inside their minds. The insects were not intelligent enough to realize they were being controlled by some outside force, but they knew the other didn't want them to kill this human, and they were too frightened to disobey.

          So instead of enjoying a tasty bit of humanflesh, the spiders worked quickly to fashion a makeshift harness. They spun a loop of webbing around the human's legs, then wove the other end of the web into a clumsy bridle, which they fitted around the roach's neck. The roach waited patiently until they had finished, then it set off down the tunnel, back in the direction of the storage room Jonah had left some time ago. The human kicked and screamed for a bit, trying to break free, but the insects were not worried. The webbing was strong.

          The other wanted them to keep the boy alive, so they did. The other also wanted them to bring the human back to the storage room, so they did this as well. And after it arrived and collected the boy, perhaps the other would go away forever and leave them alone, and this, the insects felt, would be a very good thing indeed.

*        *          *

          ACCESS CODE VI2093 ACCEPTED. PLEASE ENTER VERIFICATION.

          Norm swore and fumbled through the user's manual. A penguin's flippers are expertly designed for swimming away from hungry predators, but they are woefully inadequate when it comes to books. Norm flapped and struggled with the pages, grumbling a bit.

          PLEASE ENTER VERIFICATION, the computer repeated impatiently.

          "Shaddup," Norm said sharply. He licked the tip of his flipper and carefully turned the page. Ah, there they were...Djinn verification codes. The codes came complete with a helpful illustration of a Djinn, as if to say, Are you really sure you want to summon one of THESE? Norm let out a little shudder. He knew that Djinns were part of the job, knew it was his responsibility to make sure they were activated, but that didn't mean he had to like them.  Djinns were nasty, wretched buggers, the lot of them.

          He almost felt sorry for the Anomaly. Almost.

          SERIOUSLY, I NEED THE VERIFICATION CODES, the computer insisted. The old programmers had built artificial intelligence into the computer network, which was seeming like more of a blunder with each passing day. The only thing Norm hated worse than a computer was a computer that harassed you whenever you made a mistake. And Norm made a lot of mistakes.

          He cleared his throat. "Ver'fication code A-2-88-9-EV-14449-X. Do ya want me t' repeat dat number?"

          I'M A COMPUTER. I'M NOT DEAF OR STUPID, YOU KNOW.

          "Right. How soon b'fore ya activate da Djinns, anyway? I wanna get dis whole destroyin' da universe t'ing over wit. Do ya have da right co'rdinates? Ya need anything else t' get started?"

          The computer sighed wearily. PLEASE DON'T TALK DOWN TO ME. I'M CAPABLE OF MICROPROCESSING SIX MILLION SIMULTANEOUS STREAMS OF DATA WITHOUT BREAKING A HYPOTHETICAL SWEAT. I ACTIVATED THE DJINNS BEFORE YOU HAD EVEN PUT THE PERIOD ON THE END OF YOUR SENTENCE.

          Norm sat back. His mission was completed, but he still felt vaguely nauseous. Sending an entire fleet of Djinns after a human child wasn't exactly the proudest moment of his career. He knew this was all necessary for the good of the universe, but still... He stared at the illustration in the manual. The Djinn in the picture seemed to be flexing its claws, like a cat waiting to pounce.

          They would find the Anomaly and tear it to shreds. It wasn't going to be pretty.

          Norm shut off the bank of monitors and turned away. His role in this particular adventure had ended; his true role in the war for Rhyyne--and perhaps the destruction of the universe itself--was yet to come. But of course, he knew nothing of this. He simply felt sad and confused and just a little ashamed of himself.

          *          *          *

          When things happen, they tend to happen quickly.

          There was a blast of smelly smoke in the air, some twenty feet above Sally and Aligore, and Yap suddenly appeared. He gave a lazy half-spin and dropped like a bag of fat. Aligore sprang forward--his speed was sometimes shocking--and deftly plucked the falling gnome out of the air. The dragon landed silently and sat Yap down on the roof.

Yap flapped his hands in front of his face. "Yap is going to faint!" he screamed. "Hurry, bring him your finest wine and cheese!" He gave a theatrical swoon that didn't fool anybody and pretended to pass out.  

          Sally came running over. "Are you okay? And did you find Jonah?"

          Yap opened one eye. "Nice Jonah is locked in the dungeon." He gave a painful, trembling, and clearly forced cough. "Yap tried to save him, but the nasty buggy-bugs chased poor, fruitless Yap. It was a moment of heartbreaking bravery, and the poets shall write songs about Yap's bulging muscles and steely courage one day, but then the buggy-bugs started biting and fighting and it was very unfair because they crawled in Yap's nose and..."

          "DID YOU SEE THE RED KNIGHT?" Aligore interrupted.

          Yap shook his head.

          And then things got weird at the orphanage.

          Time itself fractured and bent, and the night air seemed to surge forward, like a soap bubble getting ready to pop. Sally saw her own reflection staring back at her, but before she had time to wonder about it, the bubble burst. There was a sharp crack of wind that flattened her hair back. Yap wailed.

          There was a thing where the bubble had been, a dark form cloaked in billowing robes. But even that wasn't right, because the robes weren't robes at all...the dark material coursed and flowed across the creature's body like water, sooty black waves of shimmering liquid. The creature had no face or limbs, no discernible features at all, but it nevertheless had shape and form. It took a step forward, and when a stray beam of moonlight met the creature's shoulder, its skin became a transparent haze of nothingness. It's not really there, Sally realized. Whatever it is, it's not real.

          The dark form hissed. "Anomaliessssssss detected......."

          "What is it?" Sally asked Yap quietly. There was no answer, and she glanced around. Yap was already gone, racing across the roof and making cowardly little "Woo, woo, woo!" noises as he went. She turned to the dragon instead. "Any ideas?"

          "I DON'T KNOW," Aligore said. There was a dull edge to his voice. "BUT IT DOESN'T LOOK FRIENDLY." Raising his voice, he addressed the creature. "WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

          "Anomaliesssssss mussssssst be deleted," the creature replied. Its voice was flat and cold. Its liquid robes shifted and an arm extended from the darkness beneath. While the rest of the creature's body seemed intangible, this arm was as solid and pale as a corpse's limb. Each finger ended in a dirty yellow claw, and it pointed the longest of these directly at Aligore. "Sssssurrender and deletion will be painlesssssssss."

          Aligore didn't bother with a reply. He lunged forward and collided with the creature, which let out a shriek that was almost metallic in nature. Suddenly, everything changed. The ground beneath Aligore trembled and came to life, and patches of tar rose from the roof in searching tentacles. The closest tentacles flowed around the dragon with frightening speed, curling around his body and lifting him off the ground. Aligore cried out as one of the tentacles opened a red line across his flank. His tail whipped back and forth helplessly.

          "What can I do to help?" Sally yelled. She looked around desperately for a weapon of some sort, but there was nothing she could use.

          One of the ground tentacles wound its way around Aligore's snout, pinning his jaws together. "RUN!" he managed to cry out. "FIND JONAH AND RUN!"

          The creature hissed and turned on Sally.

*        *          *

          Jonah knew he couldn’t afford to panic. True, his escape plan had failed spectacularly, and yes, he had been captured by insane insects that were being controlled by some sort of demonic telepathy, and of course, he was completely bound by a thick, nasty coating of webbing, and granted, he was being held prisoner back in the same storage room he had just escaped, and yeah, some larger and nastier monster was probably on its way to claim him, but still, he couldn't afford to panic. Panic would lead to screaming, which would lead to hyperventilating, which would lead to unconsciousness, which would lead to certain death. So panic was out of the question. That much, at least, was perfectly clear.

          "Somebody help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" he screamed. "Aaaaaugh! Aaaaaaaugh! Help! Help! Help help help help help help help heeeeeeeeelp meeeeeeeee!"

          The truth of the matter is that thinking about not panicking is the quickest, most surefire method of making yourself panic. Once Jonah had thought about all the good reasons why panicking would be dangerous, he realized how sensible panic really was, so he did. He panicked rather badly, in fact.

          The cockroach and the two spiders sat beside him, watching his growing outburst nervously. The insects weren't familiar with human emotions, but they could sense that something was wrong here. Something was very wrong indeed.

          When a normal human panics, any number of things might take place. A normal person might weep, scream, fight, plead, sweat, swear, faint, whimper, shout, or simply let fly with a healthy bit of vomiting.

          When Jonah panicked, it was slightly different. First his eyes rolled back in his head. Next his entire body began to tremble. His ankles beat against the ground like drumsticks. His teeth chattered and his hands shook. Finally there was a strange rushing sensation, as if the air had become an invisible waterspout that twisted and churned around them. Jonah's hair stood straight up, and there was a faint smell of burning material. A bit of the webbing hissed, snapped, and fell away in pieces. Jonah's arm flopped free as the insects hurried forward to fix the webbing.

           A strobe of deadly blue electricity erupted from Jonah's body. The spiders instantly exploded in little bursts of flame. The roach's entire body twitched, just once, then it turned its head and belched a stream of greasy smoke before toppling over dead. And as suddenly as it had appeared, the electricity was gone.

          The room stank of recently-cooked cockroach, and one of the spiders was still sizzling. Jonah turned away and let out a gasping cough. "What...was...that...?" he managed. Then the world went dark around him.

*        *          *

          Sixty-four feet above Jonah, Sally's world had just been turned upside-down.

          Literally.

          One minute she had been turning to run, but then the creature pointed its finger at her and her entire perspective flipped. She blinked. Her head was floating a few inches above the roof, and her feet were aimed directly at the night sky. She could still feel the tug of gravity, but gravity had obviously made a very serious mistake, because it was pulling her in the wrong direction.

          Acting more on instinct than anything else, she grabbed a metal exhaust pipe jutting from the rooftop and held tight. An instant later the invisible platform beneath her feet vanished and she fell up. The pipe almost slid through her fingers, and who knows what might have happened next...would she have simply gone tumbling into the sky, higher and higher, until she disappeared into the atmosphere? It seemed likely. She kicked her legs helplessly and held onto the upside-down roof for dear life.

          She barely even noticed the gigantic ball of blue light when it appeared beside her. Three figures leaped out of the light, weapons held at the ready. The strangers didn't seem to be affected by Sally's screwy gravity, and they dashed past the upside-down girl without a second glance.

          "Aligore!" one of the figures cried out.

          "Whoa...what is that thing?" The shortest figure pointed at the creature.

          "I don't...it can't be!" the third figure said. Her voice was high and frightened. "It...it looks like a Djinn!"

          "Huh. Didn't think they were real."

          Sally stared at them. "Um...could I get a little help here?" she asked. They ignored her.

          The tallest figure, a grim-looking man holding an obscenely large sword, rushed at the creature. His blade flashed through the air. The creature shimmered and the blade passed harmlessly through its neck. The warrior took a step back, looking surprised. "Erm..." he said.

          The creature pointed again and the warrior vanished. In his place, a small pink pig sat on the roof. The pig glanced around and oinked sadly. It seemed very confused.

          "Hey! He just pigged Dain!" the short figure yelled. "Is he allowed to do that?"

          "It's warping reality. It's a Djinn all right," the girl said.

          "Well, kill it!"

          "Yes, please," Sally added. They kept ignoring her.

          Aligore bellowed again as the ground tentacles slammed him against the roof. His eyes were filled with pain.

          The young girl took a step back, shaking her head. "I...I don't know how to get rid of Djinns!" she cried. "I didn't even know they were real! I thought they were just monsters from bedtime rhymes!"

          The pig trotted off, oinking quietly to itself. It had apparently decided that since the laws of reality had been violently altered, there was no point in sticking around this battle any longer. It began to nuzzle through a pile of garbage that had accumulated in the corner of the roof. Its little pink tail was wagging.

          The short figure drew a hatchet from his belt and flung it at the Djinn's head. The hatchet was a blur of motion as it spun through the air. It came to a rest inches from the creature's forehead, quivering in mid-air. "Uh-oh..." the short figure mumbled. The Djinn made a circular motion with its finger, and the hatchet spun around. The Djinn pointed.

          The short figure was almost scalped when the hatchet came flying back at him. He ducked at the last moment and the rouge hatchet went zooming by overhead. The weapon screamed to a stop, glanced around, and came rushing back again. The short figure yelped and took off running. "Do something, Elsie!" he howled.

          The young girl frowned. She seemed lost in thought. Slowly, she began to recite what sounded like a very bad poem:

"In darkest day, in longest night,

Save my love from greatest fright.

Djinns shriek and twist and bite,

Hold your hope for dawn's first light."

          The short figure threw himself to the ground again as the hatchet raced past. "What is this, poetry hour?" he called out. "Do something! Magic it to death!"       

          "Light..." the girl repeated. Her face broke into a smile, and she held out her arms in front of her. When she spoke again, her voice was the sound of thunder, ancient and terrible in its weight. "Sol Selar!" she cried.

          The effect was instantaneous. Blinding beams of light flew through the air in every direction. It was as if the sun itself had finally given up and plopped down to Earth. The light surrounded them.

          Whoa, Sally thought.

          The Djinn shrieked as one of the beams tore through its body. It turned to flee, but very few creatures in existence are capable of outrunning light itself, and a Djinn is not one of them. A large orange flare roared through the air and slammed into the Djinn's back. It shuddered and exploded in a spray of greasy black liquid that splattered across the rooftop.

          Without warning, Sally crashed back down to the ground. The tentacles holding Aligore vanished, and the dragon collapsed. The flying hatchet fell and lay still. There was a pop as the little pink pig transformed back into a human, his mouth still filled with garbage. The lights faded and vanished. For a moment, the rooftop was silent.

          "I hate this place already," the short figure announced.

          The young girl slumped to the ground. Her forehead was damp with sweat. "Tom, you okay?" she asked quietly.

          "Fine. Nice light spell, by the way," the little figure said. Sally stared. So this was Tom, the Dwarf from Jonah's dream. He was shorter than she had expected.

          The girl turned to the warrior, who was grimly picking garbage out of his teeth. "Dain?"

          "Turned me into a pig," the man snapped. "A pig. Me."

          Tom grinned. "If it's any consolation, you made a good pig."

          "Shut up."

          "Very cute. You had the little tail and everything."

          "Shut up."

          "Aligore!" The young girl raced to the dragon's side. Aligore was already climbing to his feet, and he seemed distinctly embarrassed when the girl threw her arms around his neck. She drew back a moment later, her face pale. "You're bleeding! Are you okay?"

          "ERMM...WELL, I'LL BE FINE," Aligore said gruffly. He was wheezing slightly. "JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE."

          "Any more fine and you'd be dead," Tom said. "Good to see you almost in one piece, mate." He patted the dragon on the head, smiling widely.

          "PLEASE DO NOT PET ME, TOM. YOU KNOW I DON'T LIKE THAT."

          "I know," Tom said cheerfully. He kept petting Aligore, who rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

          The man called Dain knelt and took a handful of bandages from the pack he wore on his back. He pressed the largest bandage against the wound running down Aligore's flank. "Hold still," he murmured. "This should stop the bleeding."

          "IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU, TOO, DAIN."

          The man grunted an acknowledgment.

          "BY THE WAY...YOU WERE A VERY NICE PIG. YOU LOOKED DELICIOUS."

          Dain glared at him for a moment, then his expression softened and he chuckled. "Thanks, I guess."

          Feeling nervous and still slightly wobbly from her upside-down stint, Sally approached the blonde girl and cleared her throat politely. "Um...hello?" she said.

          The girl looked up and smiled. She appeared to be slightly older than Sally, perhaps fourteen at the most. She was also very beautiful, Sally noticed with just a twinge of jealousy. Bright blue eyes shone from underneath a mess of silky blond hair. "Hiya," the girl said, extending a hand. "I'm Elsie."

          The Princess. Sally blinked. From Yap's stories, she had been expecting the Princess to be older and more matronly...not this girl. Yet here she was, an honest-to-goodness Princess, standing on the orphanage's dirty old roof. Were you supposed to curtsey or shake hands with a Princess? Sally attempted to do both at once. It didn't work. "I'm Sally," she said lamely. "Jonah's friend."

          "Oh," Elsie said. She opened her mouth, paused, and closed it again.

          "Um...thanks for saving my life with that light-thingy you did," Sally said.

          The girl looked both embarrassed and pleased. "It was nothing, really. Just a little light spell." 

          "Rubbish," Tom said, coming over to join them. "That was a great big light spell, and just in time, too. Blasted that bugger into little stinking clumps." The Dwarf noticed Sally for the first time and thrust his hand forward. "Tom Timbertramp, dashing Dwarf daredevil, at your service."

          Sally introduced herself again as she shook the Dwarf's hand. "Are you really a daredevil?" she asked curiously.

          He shook his head. "Not really. I'm scared of just about everything. Especially Djinns...blech. Can’t trust a creature that warps reality whenever it feels like it. It ain't natural...seems like it should be against the law or something. Scared me so bad I nearly wet myself, to be perfectly honest. So, yeah, I ain't too brave. But the daredevil part sounds good, doesn't it? Glamorous. Not many Dwarves are daredevils, so it's a good way to stand out in a crowd. Plus, I like alliteration. Three D's in a row, that's good stuff right there. So…I'm the first Dwarf you've seen?"

          She stared at him, her head spinning.

          "We're pretty great, huh?" he asked. The question seemed to be rhetorical, but she nodded anyway, just to be safe.

          A small blur dashed across the roof and leaped into Elsie's arms. "Mother!" Yap cried happily. "Oh, poor Yap was so brave, mother! You should have seen Yap's fearsome cunning and beauty, and the way he twirled and danced in the moonlight! Huzzah!"

          Elsie laughed as she hugged the gnome. "Yap! You're okay!"

          "And beautiful!" he prompted.

          Elsie sighed. "Sure. And beautiful."

          Yap looked pleased.

          "THERE'S NO TIME FOR THIS!" Aligore interrupted, limping over to them. He stopped in front of the Princess and attempted a clumsy bow that might have been funny under different circumstances. "I HAVE FAILED, YOUR MAJESTY. I PROVED UNABLE TO PROTECT JONAH."

          "That's not true!" Sally cried. "You saved us both! Well...once, anyway..."

          Dain turned to Sally. "Is the boy still alive?" he asked. He was a large man, and he seemed to tower above her. His face was crisscrossed with a spiderweb of white scars, but his gray-tinged eyes were thoughtful and kind. Sally suddenly realized how handsome he really was, and her tongue seemed to tie itself into a worthless little knot. She gestured and stammered helplessly.

          Fortunately, Aligore came to her rescue. "HE IS IMPRISONED IN THIS BUILDING'S DUNGEON. AND I HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THE RED KNIGHT IS COMING TO CLAIM HIM, PERHAPS THIS VERY NIGHT."

          Tom whistled through his teeth. The Princess merely looked frightened. Dain glanced up at the night sky for a moment, a faraway expression on his face. He finally turned to Aligore. "Does the boy still live?"

          "I...I THINK SO. POSSIBLY."

          Dain hefted his broadsword. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Then there’s still hope. We're going to get him out of there."

          "We're all going to die," Yap said sadly.

          "Shut up. Let's go."

CHAPTER EIGHT:

THE SIEGE

          Djinn, of course, is another word for genie.

          On Earth, Djinns have been gone for so long they have passed into the realm of fables and fantasy, and it's rare to find a person who still believes in them. But stories of the Djinn persisted...thrilling tales of adventure and danger that, it must be noted, usually got most of the important facts wrong. First of all, Djinns did not live in magical lamps, instead preferring stormy mountaintops or sunken treasure caves far below the ground. Second, Djinns were not helpful. They were not cuddly or sarcastic spirits who helped beggars become princes, they didn't like parting with treasure, and they never, ever went in for any of that True Love nonsense.

          Storytellers on Earth had gotten one important detail right, however...Djinns had the power to grant wishes. What they had forgotten was the simple fact that Djinns preferred to grant their own wishes.

          Storytellers on Rhyyne were much more practical. If you see a Djinn, they said, don't try to capture it. Don't ask it to grant three wishes. Just run. Run as fast and as far as you can. It probably wants to eat your brains or something.

          Nobody in Rhyyne knew where the Djinns came from or what they wanted, but everybody knew they were dangerous. In all of existence, the Djinns only answered to one entity--for lack of a better term--and at the moment, that entity wanted Jonah dead.

          Their first wish was to kill the lights.

*        *          *

          The orphanage was in chaos. Someone had pulled the fire alarm and it was still ringing noisily. Children emerged from their rooms eagerly. Two fire alarms in a single week! This was turning out to be the most exciting week anybody in the orphanage could remember. The hallway lights refused to work, which seemed odd, so there was quite a bit of tripping and bumping in the darkness. The staff was desperately trying to restore order, which was rather like walking into a crowded circus tent and asking everyone to keep the noise down and stop having so much fun.

          "Children, slow down! Single file! Single file!" Ms. Codd, the second floor monitor, pushed her way through the gaggle of children, shouting and waving her arms like a madwoman. "No pushing either! Single file! Form a straight line and slowly head downstairs to the...Johnny, is that a kitten you're holding? You know the rules about pets! Get rid of it...throw it in the river or something. And I know what that gesture means, young man! Honestly... Susie, I saw that shove! That's detention for you, too! Slow down! Single file!"

          The children ignored her, of course, knowing full well that adults were useless in an emergency. The fire alarm had been triggered, which meant there must be a fire somewhere, and everybody wanted to see it. The children laughed and catcalled and pushed and shoved as they hurried toward the exits. Many of them were carrying their most valued possessions, and besides the occasional illegal pet, there were a number of dolls, comic book collections, dresses and stuffed animals. Peter Wilkins, a chubby boy from 2-D, gave Ms. Codd a sheepish grin as he rushed past her; he was carrying what looked like a small mountain of candy bars in his arms.

          "Slow down, you little beasts!" Ms. Codd bellowed. "Do you all want detention? If you fall down those stairs and break your neck, I'm not taking you to the hospital! Now form a straight line, single file, and slowly make your way..." She broke off abruptly, staring down the hallway. There was a something at the end of the hall, a large something with black robes and long, pale fingers. The creature was watching her intently from the shadows.

          "Hurry up, children!" Ms. Codd shrieked. "Go faster! This is a fire drill, not a field trip! Go, go, go! Run, you lazy little brats, RUN!"

          The final child disappeared down the stairwell and Ms. Codd followed, screaming insults and mushing the children onward, offering a generous shove-in-the-back for any child who fell behind.

          Similar scenes were unfolding all over the orphanage. The Djinns did not harm any of the children, but they peered intently at each child's face, as if they were searching for a particular someone. Most of the children were so lost in a haze of cheerful panic that they didn't even notice the Djinns. One girl did scream and faint at the sight of the creatures, but a janitor slung the girl over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes and carried her out of the building. Amazingly, none of the children suffered so much as a single scratch during the chaos.

          One final encounter should be noted. Mrs. Motts, the orphanage's plump little cook, met a marauding Djinn in her kitchen. The creature was sourly examining the contents of the candy drawer when she crept up behind it. Mrs. Motts hesitated. She was determined to save her precious recipe books from the fire, and no odd bugger dressed in robes was going to stop her. She clocked the Djinn with a nearby frying pan, knocking the ghoul unconscious in a single blow. Although Mrs. Motts would never know the truth, she had just become the first and only human to ever knock out a Djinn, who were notoriously powerful and nasty opponents. But even if Mrs. Motts had known this, she probably wouldn't have cared. She was far too intent on saving her cookbooks.

*        *          *

          Most of the chaos had already ended by the time Sally and the others emerged from the fire escape, which everybody had naturally forgotten about during the fire alarm. Aligore was the last to come through the window, and for a moment it seemed as if he wouldn't make it. The dragon gritted his teeth, sucked in his stomach, and finally wriggled through the narrow opening. He collapsed on the floor, panting.

          "Yap told you that you were too fat, stupid dragon," Yap said helpfully. Aligore glared at him.

          Sally glanced around. The hallways were empty, but the fire alarm was howling and all the bedroom doors stood open. The other children seemed to be gone already. She wondered why the fire alarm had been triggered...had someone seen Elsie's light spell, or were there more monsters running around the orphanage? And why was the power out? She flicked the nearest light switch a few times, staring up at the ceiling. Nothing.

          Elsie had to shout to be heard over the droning alarm. "What's that noise, Sally?"

          "It's the fire alarm!"

          Elsie shrugged. Sally briefly tried to explain fire alarms to the young Princess, but it was hopeless. "It's magic," she finally said. Elsie nodded. Magic. That was something she could understand.

          Something shrieked from the floor below them. It didn't sound human. Dain winced. "Looks like we've got more Djinns on the way."

          "Too bad you're not still a little piggy," Tom said thoughtfully. "We could distract them with some delicious smoked pork while we made a run for it, and then..."

          "Are you finished?" Dain snapped.

          "No, not really."

          Dain sighed and turned to Sally. "Which way to the dungeon?"

          "I told you...it's called a basement. And hold on a minute." Sally thought hard. Thanks to the clumsy work of an architect who had either been very drunk or very depressed, the orphanage's hallways were arranged differently on each floor, each running perpendicular to the next. The stairwells, however, were naturally located in the same place on every floor, which meant the nearest one should be... "This way," Sally said, pointing.

          She led the group down the darkened hall. Cold shadows splayed out across the walls. Even though the building appeared deserted, they took care to move carefully and quietly.

          Except for Yap, of course, who purposely ran into things and made a lot of noise. The gnome was currently composing an epic ballad about himself, and he sang the chorus loudly for anybody who would listen. It went something like this:

"Who would do the wumpa doo

Under its hump? Why would my uncle's shoes

Lie in a lump? Ask the mighty Yap and he'll tell you true!

Wumpa doodle hump a shoeful lump lump lump!" 

          "That's the worst song ever," Tom muttered. "And I know I tell you that all the time, gnome, but this time I really mean it. That...that horrible, awful thing that sounds like something is crawling inside my brain and biting it...that's the worst song I've ever heard."

          "Yap wrote it about you, festering Dwarf-face," Yap shot back. "It's a song about how much everybody hates you. Very popular song."

          "Quiet, both of you," Elsie said. Her voice was barely a whisper above the din. "I don't want anybody to..."

          She never finished her sentence. The ceiling above them suddenly rippled like the surface of a pond, and a dark shape dropped through the plaster and landed directly in their path. Another Djinn. It stretched out bony hands toward them, and a rattling hiss came from beneath its robes. "Sssssstay back. The Anomaly issssssss oursssssss."

          "Don't worry, I'll handle this one," Tom said, stepping forward. He grinned at the Djinn. "Nice dress you've got there, mate. Very pretty."

          "Tom, get away from him!" Elsie cried, horrified.

          He ignored her and walked right up to the Djinn, which stared down at the little Dwarf with frank amazement. Tom swung his hatchet back and forth casually. "For my first wish, I'd like to be a little bit taller. Say, another six inches. Oh, and I'd like some gold, too. A big honkin' pile of it."

          The Djinn hissed, inching closer.

          "Tom, get back here!" Elsie said.

          "Don't say I didn't warn you," Tom told the creature. "Okay, Elsie, show him what a light spell does to a Djinn!"

          "That's what I've been trying to tell you!" she said quickly. "I can't summon a light spell in here! They only work outside!"

          The blood drained out of Tom's face. "Umm...looks like there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, sir..." he began.

          The Djinn pointed a finger at the Dwarf and whispered, "Wood."

          Tom's expression froze. So did the rest of his body, for that matter. He slowly toppled over backwards and bounced off the floor with a dry thunk. His entire body had turned a dusty brown color, and his skin was knotted and gnarled. He had been turned into a block of solid wood. For one terrible moment, Sally thought he was dead. Then Tom moaned, "Elp eeeee!" in a tiny, scratchy voice. His expression was petrified.

          Dain darted forwards and grabbed the Dwarf. The Djinn came at them, snapping and hissing madly. Dain swung Tom like a staff, slamming the Dwarf's head into the creature's face. The Djinn howled and fell back. Tom moaned. "At urt, ooo upid unnava..." he began.

          "Run!" Dain cried. He tucked the protesting Dwarf under his arm and dashed for the stairwell. The others followed close behind. The Djinn was already getting to its feet--if it even had feet underneath that swirling darkness--but Aligore drew back and delivered a vicious mule kick to the monster's chest. It was the kind of kick that could have flattened a station wagon. The Djinn smashed into the nearest wall, which exploded in a shower of rubble.

          Sally reached the stairs and paused. "Aligore, come on!"

          "I...I THINK IT'S DEAD..." Aligore said. He took a step toward the gaping hole in the wall. Nervous little plumes of smoke were shooting from his nostrils. He stood there for a moment, staring into the darkness, and then he straightened up again. "I THINK I GOT IT!" he exclaimed happily.

          A hand appeared from the hole and pointed one bony finger at Aligore.

          "OOK!" Aligore cried. "OOH AAK AAK AAK OOK!" Then, perhaps realizing that something was wrong, the dragon glanced down.  "OOH AAK OOH," he said softly. Roughly translated, this meant, "I DON'T BELIEVE IT. I'M A MONKEY."

          The Djinn leaped out of the hole in the wall, its claws extended. The little green monkey that had once been a large green dragon let out a shriek of fear and ran.

          "Come on, monkey!" Sally cried. "Run faster!"

          "OOK!" the Aligore-monkey screamed. He glanced over his shoulder, saw that the Djinn was right behind him, and doubled his speed. Sally and the Aligore-monkey raced down the stairs, the Djinn hot on their trail. They joined the others on the next landing and stopped short.

          "I think we've got a problem," Elsie murmured.

          Two more Djinns were gliding up the stairs beneath them, speaking to each other in a strange, guttural language that sounded something like: "Clack, clack, clack clack, clack, clack." In a universe where hundreds of thousands of languages have been created, this was quite possibly the worst of the bunch. Sally turned and saw the first Djinn waiting on the landing above them, staring down with a sort of horrible triumph. The Aligore-monkey pointed at the Djinn and aaked nervously.   

          "Why is there a monkey here?" Dain asked.

          Yap's face lit up. "A delicious monkey!"

          "It's Aligore," Sally said quickly.

          Yap's face lit up even more. "A delicious Aligore!"

          Sally threw open the third floor door and motioned to the others. "Come on, my room isn't far. I've got an idea." They raced down the hall...Sally in the lead, the Aligore-monkey right behind her, Yap desperately trying to catch the Aligore-monkey, Dain carrying the wooden Dwarf, and Elsie bringing up the rear. The three Djinn gave chase, clacking excitedly to one another.

          "Sssssstop!" one of the Djinn said in English. "We won't hurt you! We promisssssse!"

          Another Djinn chuckled at this. Its companion elbowed it in the ribs.

          Sally reached her room and threw open the door. "In here!" she yelled. Her bizarre new companions filed into the room. Dain tossed Tom onto the bed and drew his sword. Elsie pressed in behind him. The Aligore-monkey leaped onto Sally's dresser and perched there, ooking softly to himself.

          "Why are we here?" Dain asked.

          "Perhaps a tea party?" Yap suggested stupidly.

          "Hold on," Sally said. She threw open her footlocker and dug through its contents. It had to be here somewhere... Oh, please tell me I didn't lose it, she thought. If it was gone, they were all doomed. She threw items out of the footlocker as quickly as she could, digging her way down to the bottom.

          "Huzzah!" Yap cried. He joined in the fun by pushing a lamp onto the floor and trying to eat the glass shards.

          "It's coming through!" Elsie cried.

          Sure enough, the wooden door rippled and parted like water, and one of the Djinns swept into the room.

          "Whatever you're going to do, girl, do it soon." Dain's voice was deathly quiet. "We don't have much time." He raised his sword and dashed forward, roaring a battle-cry as he went. He swung the broadsword at the monster's neck.

          But if Dain was fast, the Djinn was quicker than a greased otter fired from a cannon. The creature shimmered and its right arm suddenly became a curved steel blade. It parried Dain's attack easily, and with a flick of its metal wrist it sent Dain's sword clattering across the room.

          "Come on," Sally muttered. "Where are you, you stupid thing..."

          Yap shoved a stuffed rabbit off the dresser and raised his arms in victory. "Ha ha!" he shouted. The Djinn was forgotten in his room-destroying glee. He leaped to the floor and began arranging stuffed animals around the tea party set, humming a little. In Yap's opinion, this was turning out to be a pretty great day.

          Dain drew back his leg and aimed a kick at the Djinn. His foot sank into the creature's flowing black robes and suddenly Dain was being lifted through the air and spun around. He hung upside-down, inches from the Djinn's face, dangling from a tentacle of murky darkness that rose from the monster's forehead. The tentacle dropped away, but Dain didn't fall. His feet has somehow ballooned to the size of basketballs, and he hung suspended in mid-air, kicking his inflated feet helplessly. "Umm..." he said slowly. The Djinn chuckled and extended two rotting claws toward Dain's eyeballs.

          "Found it!" Sally cried triumphantly. She stood and pointed her battered old flashlight at the Djinn's forehead. Would its beam be strong enough to destroy a Djinn? Please let this work, she thought. She flicked the switch.

          Nothing happened. And with dawning horror, Sally realized that the flashlight's batteries were dead.

*        *          *

          "You're little. Why are you little?" There was a weary sigh. "Wake up."

          It wasn't the sort of voice that was disobeyed. Jonah blinked groggily and opened his eyes. Then he shut them again. It was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. And this wasn't the type of nightmare where you forget your homework or showed up to school completely naked. No, this was the bad type of nightmare, the type that came slithering out of your closet in the middle of the night and dragged you kicking and screaming down into the darkness.

          "Open your eyes or I'll smash you flat." There was a horrible hunger in the voice, a coiled menace that made Jonah's skin crawl. It was impossible to resist. He opened his eyes again.

          Jonah had seen pictures of Mount Rushmore and its giant, bored-looking stone faces, each the size of small building. This face was larger. Yet it wasn't really a face at all, he dimly realized, but rather an incredibly elaborate helmet and faceplate crafted from dusty white bones and sharp metal studs. The helmet crested in a spiked ridge, and beneath it lay a crisscrossing spiderweb of thin bones. The faceplate had no eyes or mouth...in fact, there didn't seem to be any pattern or logic in the jagged jumble of bones...but there was nothing behind it. A horrid red light came from inside the helmet, pouring through the bones in shards of fractured light, but the inside of the helmet was clearly empty. The creature's face looked like a briar patch that was burning from the inside out.

          "Do you know who I am?" Jonah shook his head. The creature cocked its head slightly, as if offended. "Your little playmates never told you about the Red Knight?"

          Jonah shuddered slightly. He couldn't help himself. This seemed to please the Knight, who chuckled. "That's more like it."

          Jonah glanced around. The ground had changed. Instead of a smooth concrete floor, all he could see were great ridges of metal jutting up into the sky. It took a moment for his brain to catch up to his eyes...He's holding me. And sure enough, he was lying flat on the Red Knight's palm. No skin was visible in the cracks between the armored glove, only an eerie red glow.

          "If you know who I am, then you'll know that I mean what I say," the Knight continued. "So let me tell you how this is going to happen. I've been sent to collect you." He let the word linger for a moment. "I'm going to take you to the Sorceress, and then you will no longer be my problem. If you attempt to escape before that time comes, I'll pull off one of your legs. Try it again and you'll lose the other one. And let me make one thing clear...I will enjoy pulling your legs off. Now, do you believe what I say?"

          Jonah nodded mutely, too frightened to speak.

          The Red Knight laughed, a cruel, mocking laugh. "I was expecting a great and dangerous warrior. Not this. Not you."

          The Knight's hand dropped. It was like being on the world's fastest, scariest elevator. Jonah let out a helpless shriek and clutched at the Knight's palm, his fingers scraping against the cold metal. The hand suddenly flipped and Jonah tumbled into nothingness. He collided with a flat, coarse surface and lay still, breathing heavily. This new place smelled vaguely of oil, dirt and old leather. Everything was dark.

          "Help me!" Jonah screamed. His voice seemed faint and muffled in the gloom. Where was he?

          From somewhere high above, the Red Knight began to laugh.

*        *          *

          Dain flapped his arms wildly, still suspended upside-down from his balloon feet. The Djinn came at him, hissing and snarling. Its yellow claws snapped together dryly in a vaguely lobsterish fashion. It was going for his eyes.

          There was a blur of green and a defiant "OOK ACK ACK!" as the Aligore-monkey lunged at the Djinn. The little creature clamped onto the Djinn's face and began biting furiously. The Djinn drew back, howling and beating at the Aligore-monkey with both fists.

          Sally shook the flashlight helplessly. "It won't work!" she cried. "It needs power!"

          "What kind of power?" the Princess asked quickly.

          Sally frowned. "I dunno. Electricity, I guess."

          Without a word, Elsie grabbed the flashlight from her hands. She began to whisper. Her voice was too low to make out, but Sally saw the hairs on Elsie's head crackle and stand at attention, and she leaped back just in time. An instant later, blue lightning flashed from between Elsie's cupped hands. The flashlight suddenly came alive, and a beam of light shot across the room and hit the Djinn square in the chest. The artificial light wasn't strong enough to kill the monster, but from the Djinn's wail of pain, it had definitely hurt. The creature's liquid skin bubbled and boiled as the light played across its surface.

          "You did it!" Sally said, pumping her fist in the air. "YES!"

          With one last scream, the Djinn turned and fled back through the solid door. The Aligore-monkey bounced off the door and fell to the ground, where he lay dazed, ooking softly. 

          "Oo uch e-ec-icity!" Tom hissed from the bed. His eyes were wide.

          Elsie glanced down at her hands. Sure enough, the flashlight was still wreathed in a shimmering halo of blue electricity. She waved her hands, trying to disperse the spell, but it was already too late. The flashlight's bulb snapped in a burst of heat and the room was plunged back into darkness.

          "Whoops," Elsie said softly. "Guess I used too much."

          "O, ap," Tom groaned.

          "You don't have another magic light stick, do you?" Elsie asked Sally hopefully. Sally shook her head. Elsie's winced.

          "They'll be back any minute," Dain said. "Can somebody hand me my sword?"

          "You can't fight them upside-down!" Elsie protested.

          "Do you know a spell to shrink my feet?" he snapped.

          "Well...no..."

          "Then hand me my sword."

          Elsie hurried across the room and fetched the broadsword from the corner. When she put the sword in Dain's hand, the added weight made him drift toward the ground, until the top of his head bonked against the floor. "This is not good," he announced grimly. 

          Muted clacking noises came from the hallway. "What are they doing?" Sally asked.

          Dain gave an upside-down shrug. "Planning their attack."

          "No." Elsie's voice was deathly quiet. "They're making a wish." She turned to the others, her eyes widening. "Hold onto something!"

          There was no time. One moment they were standing--or in Dain's case, floating--in a perfectly normal room...perhaps a little cramped and messy, but still an average room. The next moment the floor burped and dropped away, the plaster and linoleum bleeding away into a swirling vortex that dropped straight down into inky darkness.

          Several things happened at once. Sally's bed melted sideways into the wall, sending the wooden Dwarf tumbling into the pit. Yap dove after him with a cry and they disappeared together. Elsie screamed as the ground fell away beneath her, but Dain's arm lashed out and he caught her by the scruff of her cloak. Despite his balloon feet, the combination of the sword and the flailing Princess was too much, and Dain and Elsie spun down in great looping circles. Sally grabbed for her nightstand, but it blurred and ran through her fingers like water, and she fell. The Aligore-monkey ooked wildly and grabbed her arm, stopping her fall short. Her legs kicked at nothingness.

          Three huge Djinns came through the walls, clacking and hissing at each other. They spied Sally and swept toward her. The Aligore-monkey hooted and released his grip on the wall, and he and Sally dropped several feet before he caught another handhold on the goopy walls, stopping their descent. He released the wall once more and they fell again. The Djinns raced down after them, their claws bared.

          Twenty feet below Sally and the Aligore-monkey, Dain bobbed down through the darkness, holding fast to Elsie's cloak.

          Twenty feet below them, Yap had finally caught up with Tom. Instead of trying to save the frozen Dwarf, Yap had leaped onto his back and was using him as a makeshift surfboard, cresting the running walls in great gooey circles. "Wahoo!" Yap shouted. Tom was trying to say very rude things, but his words were swallowed up by the roar of the pit as the world melted around them.

          And that was how they fell.  

*        *          *

          The Red Knight stormed down the hallway, his sword held at the ready. Alarms were blaring throughout this strange castle, but he didn't know what they meant. And he hadn’t met any guards roaming the castle yet…were they mounting an attack somewhere, or perhaps an ambush? That, at least, would be exciting. He enjoyed ambushes.

          The Knight reached the castle's exit and stopped short. As usual, he had been right. It was an ambush.

          There was a monster waiting by the door, but it wasn't one of her monsters. He had never seen anything like it before, all liquid black robes and skeletal hands. He had no idea if the creature was friendly or hostile, and he didn't particularly care one way or the other. The creature was blocking his path, so the Red Knight conducted diplomatic negotiations the only way he knew how, darting forwards and ramming his sword through its face. The monster shimmered, moaned, and melted away in a flurry of slime. The Knight shrugged. Whatever they were, they didn't seem too dangerous.

          The wall beside him suddenly made a rude glurping noise. Then it exploded. The Knight felt pieces of the wall splatter against his armor in wet, gooey chunks. He took a step back and raised his sword. There was magic at work in this castle, magic that made solid walls run like water, and this had never been part of the plan.

          When you spend decades maiming and killing thousands of creatures across several different continents, you tend to become rather jaded. Until this moment, the Red Knight had assumed he had seen pretty much everything there was to see, and that anything he hadn't hunted down and poked a few times with his sword wouldn't have been worth seeing anyway. So when the wall rushed away and a bizarre stream of creatures poured out of the opening...a screaming gnome riding atop a wooden Dwarf, that blasted little Princess dangling from an upside-down man with gigantic inflated feet, and a green monkey carrying another young girl, followed by a swarm of the watery black monsters...the Red Knight was speechless. If he had still possessed his lower jaw, it would have dropped open.

          And although our heroes would never know it, this surprise was likely the only thing that kept the Red Knight from hacking them into little red pieces right then and there. By the time the Knight had recovered his composure, they were already surrounded.

*        *          *

          Sally sat up, rubbing her forehead. Her mouth was full of wall. She had no idea what had just happened, but she knew it had involved a lot of falling and spinning and ooking.

          The Djinns poured into the room behind her, at least a dozen strong. The air was filled with flashing swirls of darkness as the monsters formed a tight ring around them. I guess this is it, Sally thought. Guess they're gonna eat us. She was too exhausted and frightened to care much. She simply hoped it wouldn't hurt.

          The Djinns stopped. And stared. And took a respectful step back. 

          The figure was standing by the front door, large and imposing, his shining silver armor covered with tiny spiked crests. He held a curved broadsword in one hand. The other hand was clapped protectively around a leather pouch dangling from his belt. A strange red light shone through every joint and crack in his armor, casting a deep crimson hue that danced and flickered on the dark walls. It's him, Sally realized. It's the Red Knight.

          "YOU!" Elsie leaped to her feet and started toward the Knight. Her face twisted with rage and orange flames danced in her eyes. The air around her sizzled and became a furnace. The Princess lifted one smoking finger and pointed it at the Knight's forehead.  The only creature in existence more terrifying than an angry teenage girl is an angry teenage girl with magical powers, and this one had murder in her eyes.

          The Knight didn't seem impressed. "Kill me and you lose the boy," he said with a shrug. 

          "What are you talking about?" Elsie's voice was hard.

          Silently, the Knight pointed to the pouch around his waist.

          Elsie's face fell. She bit her lower lip until it was white, then turned away. The room's temperature instantly dropped back down to reasonable, non-lethal levels as the fire in her eyes went out. Sally stared back and forth between the two opponents, feeling stupid and confused. What was going on? Jonah was inside that little pouch? How could that be?  

          A fireman suddenly burst through the front door. He stared at the strange group of monsters, animals, upside-down warriors, and unholy gladiators for a long moment. They stared back at him. Yap waved. The fireman ran back outside, screaming at the top of his lungs.

          "Thisss issss very exxxxxciting," one of the Djinns said. It sounded pleased.

          Out of the corner of her eyes, Sally saw Dain bobbing toward the Red Knight. The Knight never turned, but his hand hovered next to the pouch menacingly. "Tell balloon boy that if he gets any closer, I turn the brat into paste."

          Out of the entire group, only the Aligore-monkey and Yap had ears sharp enough to hear the tiny, muffled cry that came from the pouch. Yap buried his face in his hands, but the Aligore-monkey roared in anger. "YOU COWARD! IF YOU ARE AS STRONG AS THE LEGENDS CLAIM, RELEASE THE BOY AND FIGHT ME WITH HONOR, INSTEAD OF HIDING BEHIND CAPTIVE CHILDREN!" At least, that's what the Aligore-monkey meant to say. All that actually came out was: "OOK ACK ACK OOK ACK OOK!"

          The Knight stared at him. "Nice monkey," he finally said. He turned and examined the nearest Djinn intently. "I think these things are probably waiting for us to run so they can hunt us down and kill us," he said cheerfully. "Out of curiosity, do they belong to you, little Princess?"

          "No." Elsie's eyes never left the Knight's face. "You?"

          The Knight shook his head. "Not yet, anyway. They look bad, so we'll probably get them sooner or later. Oh, and by the way,"--his voice was horribly, terribly casual--"I have a message for you. From Gast."

          Elsie stiffened at the name. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the temperature in the room began to rise again. The Djinns glanced at each other nervously. 

          The Knight turned and looked directly at the Princess. His voice was low and hard. "He asked me to tell you that your father begged for his life on his hands and knees like a dog, and your mother screamed while she died."  

          "Elsie, don't!" Dain cried.

          It was too late. Elsie let out a choked cry and flicked her wrist. An orange fireball shrieked across the room and collided with the Knight's chest, sending him skidding across the floor. Two of the Djinns lunged at the Knight, but he was sliding too quickly. He passed beneath their claws and slid out the open front door, laughing the entire way.

          Then the Djinns descended around them, biting and snarling. Sally ducked away as a Djinn came at her, only to feel a clammy pair of claws settle around her shoulders. She was jerked off the ground and the world spun around her. All she could hear was screaming and clacking and hissing and the roar of the wind, which had suddenly, strangely, become very noisy. In fact, even the Djinns grew quiet as the wind began to rush through the front door of the orphanage, louder and louder. 

          "Hang on," Elsie said from somewhere in the darkness. "This will probably hurt."

*        *          *

          "I'm telling you, I ain't going back in there!" the fireman cried. "There are...things in there!"

          "Yeah? What kind of things?"

          "Monsters! And guys wearing armor! And something that kinda looked like a monkey!" The man wiped his brow. He looked seasick.

          The chief grunted and tried to keep a straight face. "Sounds pretty dangerous. Guess you'd better sit this one out, Hank."

          The man nodded gratefully. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. Good thinking."

          One of the firemen snickered.

          The chief turned to the rest of his men. "Okay, boys, Hank says he saw some bad stuff in there. Now we all know ol' Hank has a bit of a drinkin' problem...Don't be ashamed, Hank, it's the honest truth and we all know it...so most likely, it's just another one of his...his...hey, Phil, what's the name for those things that Hank gets?"

          "The DTs?" Phil offered.

          "Naw, where he sees stuff that ain't there. What's that called? There's some medical word for it..."

          "Double vodka on the rocks?" another fireman suggested.

          The chief shook his head. "Naw, it's a medical term...I think...I saw it on some movie where this crazy guy is chasing some baby-sitters with a lawnmower...great flick, by the way, very artistic...and the doctors had some medical term for that condition where you see things wrong. You know, like you see a toaster and think it's an octopus, stuff like that."

          "Giant evil knight," Hank said weakly.

          "No, that ain't it either." The chief frowned. "Altered somethingoranother, I think..."

          "Giant evil knight," Hank said again.

          "Who's the one who watched this movie, Hank?" the chief exploded. "Me or you? Was it me? Or was it you? It was me, wasn't it? NOT! YOU!"

          "Giant evil knight," Hank insisted. He pointed.

          The fire chief turned just in time to see the giant evil knight raise his fist. "Oh," he said.

          The Red Knight brought his fist crashing down onto the nearest man's forehead. It made a satisfying bonk sound. The man crumpled to the ground and his companions scattered. Good. The Knight risked a glance back. None of the floating black monsters were chasing him yet, which was also good. He turned and hurried down the hill toward the forest. The Sorceress had given him a spell word to keep the portal open, but he still felt nervous. The sooner he was off this rotten planet, the better.

          The orphans and staff had gathered on a nearby hill, and they watched the Knight stomp away into the forest. Then several hundred pairs of eyes swung back around in unison. Something was happening to the orphanage. Wind was rushing into the front door at an alarming rate, as if the building had become a gigantic vacuum cleaner. The inhuman shrieking noises from inside grew louder, but now the cries were tinged with uncertainty and fear. There was a rumbling, slurping noise as more and more air crammed its way into the building.

          The entire face of the orphanage exploded. The wind whooshed back outside, carrying bits of debris, struggling figures and a few furious ghouls along for the ride. There was a tremendous roar as the wind blasted off in every direction, and silence descended. A few crickets chirped approvingly, since crickets love carnage.

          The orphans stared at the figures who had been deposited on the front lawn. "Hey, that's Sally!" someone cried. Sure enough, Sally sat up, blinking and rubbing the dirt from her eyes. Sally's companions, however, were a different story. Nobody had ever seen anything like them, and the children muttered excitedly to each other.

          "Look at that sword!"

          "A monkey! And it's...green? Maybe it's sick or something."

          "Why is that guy upside-down? And what's wrong with his feet?"

          Then the rest of the Djinns came shrieking out of the orphanage, and that was when the remaining firemen, children, and orphanage staff all screamed and ran. The Djinns were a terrifying sight. Their flowing robes had become the color of dirty blood, and their claws were extended as they rushed in for the kill. Nobody had ever escaped the Djinns, and they weren't about to break their winning streak now. Their howling and clacking filled the night air. It was so noisy, in fact, that none of the fleeing humans heard a young female voice say "Sol Selar" behind them. They did, however, notice when the sky was suddenly illuminated by blazing balls of light that poured down from the heavens. After all, this is the sort of thing people tend to notice.

          "It's a meteor shower!" one boy cried.

          "Nuclear annihilation!" a janitor screamed. "The communists have struck!"

          Frightened out of their wits, the humans kept running. If any of them had looked back, however, they would have seen that the streams of light had vaporized the Djinns, every single one of them.

*        *          *

          Tom picked himself up off the ground, coughing a bit. "I've decided," he announced hoarsely, "that I don't like being a block of wood. Don't think I'll be doing that again. Oh, and nice wind spell, your highness," he added.

          "THE LIGHT SPELL WASN'T TOO BAD EITHER." Aligore--the dragon, not the dragon/monkey--was lying on his back, still slightly dazed, his large paws splayed in the air like the world's largest kitten. Shaking his head, he rolled over and got to his feet.

          "Is everybody okay?" Elsie asked nervously. "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

          "My boots are ruined," Dain growled. "I exploded them."

          Other than Dain's exploded boots, everybody seemed to be in one piece. The destruction of the Djinns had reversed their wishes, and reality had settled back into a semi-comfortable groove again. Yap gazed at Aligore sadly. "Yap so wanted to eat that delicious monkey," he whispered. Aligore shot him a dirty look.

          Elsie stood up, holding her forehead and wincing. "Ouch," she announced. "Anybody know where the Red Knight went?"

          Aligore's nostrils flared as he sniffed the cool air. "THIS WAY," he said. Dain and Aligore took off, sprinting toward the woods that lay at the bottom of the hill. The others followed.

          Sally had never ventured into the woods, since she had always been confident that child-eating bears lived somewhere in the depths of the forest, just waiting for her to step beneath the canopy of trees. She was a practical girl who knew that although cartoon bears were cuddly and only ate handfuls of honey, real bears were gigantic and only ate people's heads. She paused at the edge of the woods, mustered her courage, and plowed into the underbrush. The trees moaned and creaked restlessly above her. In the distance, Aligore let out an anguished roar.

          "Hang on, guys," Tom said grimly. "I'm coming."

          A cry arose from the darkness. It might have been Dain. They hurried on ahead, while branches slapped their faces and twisting roots reached out to trip them.

          A blue light suddenly flared in the distance. Aligore roared again, and this time there was no mistaking the rage in his voice. Sally pulled a large branch aside and the group stumbled into a small clearing filled with dead leaves. A glowing ball of blue energy was suspended in the middle of the clearing, humming and buzzing with power, blazing so brightly that Sally was forced to shield her eyes. The Red Knight was nowhere to be seen, but Dain lay motionless on the ground. Aligore limped toward them from the other side of the clearing, his flank streaked with blood.

          "KEEP IT OPEN, YOUR HIGHNESS," he gasped. "DON'T LET IT CLOSE OR WE'LL NEVER SEE RHYYNE AGAIN."

          Elsie nodded and pointed her fingers at the ball of energy, muttering softly under her breath. Tendrils of electricity snaked out of the ball and connected with her fingertips. The ball's fading color suddenly sprang back to a vivid neon blue.  "Go," Elsie said through clenched teeth. "I'll try to hold it."

           Tom and Aligore grabbed Dain and dragged his limp body into the ball. There was a loud crackling noise. Sally watched them in amazement…it was as if they were being sucked down a giant drain, their bodies twisting, stretching, and spiraling away into nothingness, until they finally disappeared into the blue.

          "Go, Yap," Elsie said. With a whimper, the gnome hopped into the energy ball. Seconds later he had also spun out of sight.

          Sally sighed. She had an unpleasant suspicion that her part in this adventure had just come to an end. She would be left behind--after all, why would they possibly let her come along?--and she would probably spend the rest of her life wondering what had happened to Jonah and the others. It was all so unfair.

          Elsie glanced over her shoulder. "Well?"

          "Well, what?" Sally asked.

          "Are you coming or not?"

          She felt like singing, she felt like dancing, she felt like grabbing Elsie and giving her a hug. Sally did none of these things, of course. Instead she merely grinned and ran toward the ball of energy that blazed in the heart of the clearing.

*        *          *

          The strange blue light coming from the forest winked out.

          The Djinns were gone.

          The insects in the orphanage were beginning to stir, the red lights already fading from their beady little eyes. They went about their daily buggish tasks of trying to eat each other, their role in a struggle for universal domination already forgotten.

          Ms. Crew woke up with a pounding headache, wondering why her dreams had been so strange. And why were the fire alarms ringing? And why was she sitting in the basement? She frowned stupidly, trying to remember if she had been drinking the night before. Although she didn't know it, her headache was about to get a lot worse.

          The children and staff of the orphanage were eventually rounded up and the damage was assessed. Not only was half of the orphanage destroyed, but two children were missing.

          The orphanage was eventually rebuilt. Its new headmistress turned out to be a very nice woman, and although the orphanage was never really a happy place, it was no longer such a bad place either, and for this everyone was grateful.

          After falling asleep in the basement while her orphanage was destroyed and her charges were abducted, the only job Ms. Crew was able to find was assistant late night fry cook at the local Huggy Piggy restaurant. She still works there to this day, and she hates it very much. And this, also, is a good thing.

          As for the missing kids...

          The local police and fire departments promised to find the children. When several days had passed without any luck, federal investigators arrived. In the end, a lot of men wearing dapper suits wasted quite a few tax dollars combing the nearby forests and cities for any sign of Jonah and Sally. And in the end, of course, they found absolutely nothing. 

          This was hardly surprising. They were looking on the wrong world.

CHAPTER NINE:

FLIGHT THROUGH THE AIR

          Imagine the world's most complicated jigsaw puzzle. Perhaps it features an elephant, or some other large stomping quadruped. Imagine this jigsaw puzzle is loaded into a powerful cannon and blasted several miles through the air during a particularly violent hurricane. Now imagine someone being forced at gunpoint to reassemble the puzzle in the middle of the night. Suddenly the elephant's trunk is missing, he's cross-eyed and drooling, and one of his awkward little legs is sticking out of his left ear. He has become an un-elephant.

          Multiply this by a billion and you have teleportation.

          The human brain is made up of approximately 84 quintillion molecules that are woven together in incredibly complex strands and ribbons of clumpy gray goo. Piecing these molecules back together in the proper order is not a happy task. Even one misplaced molecule can alter a person in the slightest of ways--for example, your favorite flavor of ice cream might abruptly change from strawberry to vanilla--and teleporting multiple times increases the risk of something going horribly, permanently, stupidly wrong. It’s easy to spot creatures who have teleported too many times; they are usually sitting in the corner, chewing on their ankles and holding furious arguments with household appliances. On Earth these people become film producers, new age spiritual gurus, and pet psychologists. On Rhyyne they become lunch for hungry horgunks, which is a pretty good deal for everybody except the horgunks, who wind up with nasty indigestion.

          There is a common theory that gnomes have muddled brains and erratic behaviors because they have teleported so many times. A more popular theory, however, is that gnomes are simply stupid.

*        *          *

          Sally stepped into the ball of blue energy and held her breath. Nothing happened. Oh, great, she thought, I broke it. She took a step back, meaning to try again, but the ground itself also stepped backwards in a great, heaving lurch. She frowned. Then she stared. Then she screamed.

          Her nose was trailing in the air some twenty feet ahead of her, bouncing and bobbing like a kite on a string, except this string happened to be a pink streamer of freckled flesh. She opened her mouth to cry for help and her lips immediately stretched off into the distance. Next she felt her eyeballs oozing forward, followed by the tips of her toes, and finally her entire body spiraled away like water running down the drain. The world blinked and vanished around her, and she found herself soaring through nothingness. Everything was twisting and twirling madly. If she still had a stomach, she would have been sick to it. And now she was flying even faster, pulled in every single direction at once, and just when she felt she would soon be nothing more than a tangled ball of stretched-out limbs...

          ...she landed.

          She felt her nose with trembling fingers. It seemed to be the same small pug nose, still short and freckled. She quickly checked the rest of her body parts--fingers, arms, legs, and head were all present and accounted for--and breathed a sigh of relief. She was back to normal.

          The rest of the world, however, was not. She was sitting in another forest, but the changes were as different as day and night. For one thing, it was now day instead of night. The sun trickled down through a canopy of trees, making the leaves shimmer like gold. She blinked and stared harder. No, these leaves really were gold, or at least a gaudy gold-colored sort of foliage she had never seen before.

          Pop.

          Elsie suddenly appeared beside her. Elsie's hands also went to her nose immediately. Apparently satisfied with what she found, the Princess turned her attention to the others. "Is everybody here?"

          Tom limped over, his expression pained. "Dwarves ain't meant to be stretched," he complained. "Our legs are supposed to be short. 'S unnatural, that's what it is..."

          "You'll be fine, Tom. Aligore, are you and Dain okay?"

          The dragon shrugged briefly. "COULD BE WORSE. NOT REALLY SURE HOW, THOUGH. AND DAIN IS STILL UNCONSCIOUS."

          "Because of a magic spell?" Sally guessed excitedly.

          Aligore frowned. "BECAUSE THE RED KNIGHT PUNCHED HIM IN THE HEAD VERY HARD."

          "Oh," Sally said.

           "And where's Yap?" Elsie asked. The clearing was silent. "Nobody has seen him?"

          "Thought he came through with you," Tom muttered.

          "HE PROBABLY GOT SCARED AND TELEPORTED AWAY AS SOON AS HE ARRIVED." Aligore snorted. "TYPICAL."

          "I hope so," Elsie said softly. She looked worried. "What about the Red Knight?"

          "GONE. THAT WAY, I THINK," Aligore said, motioning with his head. "I CAN STILL SMELL HIM, BUT IT'S GETTING FAINT. AND THERE’S ANOTHER SMELL...LIKE RUST AND DECAY." He paused, his face grim. "I THINK THE SCARABS WERE WAITING FOR HIM."

          Tom groaned loudly. Elsie's face paled. Sally looked around, feeling rather lost. Weren't scarabs little beetle-ish insects? What was so bad about that?

          Elsie took a deep breath. "Then there's no time to lose." Her voice wavered slightly. "Aligore, I need to ask a terrible favor, one you may certainly refuse. Can you...will you allow me to ride on your back? This is our last chance. If Jonah reaches her castle, he'll be lost forever. I...I can't save him without you."

          Sally didn't think this was a difficult request to grant--after all, the dragon was certainly strong enough to carry the Princess--but Aligore's face darkened and he hung his head.

          "Are you out of your bloody mind?" Tom roared. His face had flushed bright pink. "You can't do that to him!"

          "BE QUIET, TOM," Aligore said softly. He turned to the Princess. "THIS IS NO SIMPLE CHOICE, YOUR HIGHNESS. MY PEOPLE BELIEVE THAT ONCE A DRAGON HAS BEEN RODE BY A MORTAL, HE IS FOREVER DOMESTICATED. NONE OF MY ANCESTORS HAVE CARRIED HUMANS FOR MORE THAN NINE GENERATIONS. IS A SHAMEFUL MARK TO BEAR, AND ONE THAT CAN NEVER BE ERASED. MANY DRAGONS WOULD KILL ME FOR EVEN CONSIDERING SUCH AN ACT."

          Elsie nodded. "Understood. I asked only because the situation is so grave. But I can't ask you to sacrifice your life. We'll have to find some other way."

          Aligore pawed at the ground miserably. His claws dug deep furrows in the red dirt, and tiny wisps of smoke blew from his nostrils. He turned to Sally, his eyes flashing wildly. "THIS BOY," he demanded, "THIS JONAH...IS HE WORTH DYING FOR?"

          She was caught off-guard by the question. Thinking quickly, she said, "Whu...?"

          "Of course he ain't worth dying for!" Tom broke in. "He ain't even from our world!"

          "Aligore, forget I said anything," Elsie said. "It wasn't a fair request."

          He ignored her. "IS JONAH WORTH DYING FOR?" he asked Sally again.

          "Um...err..." She stammered helplessly. Sure, Jonah was her friend--probably her only friend, if you wanted to be cruelly accurate--but they had only been friends for a matter of days. Was he worth dying for? She had no idea. How could anyone decide something like that? "I don't know," she said at last. "He's just Jonah. I know that he's nice and sometimes he's funny, but I don't know if that makes him worth dying for. But he is my friend."

          Aligore was silent for a long moment, staring out at the horizon. "I WATCHED AS MANY OF MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY WERE BUTCHERED BY SERVANTS OF CULL," he murmured. "I WATCHED HER LAY WASTE TO OUR LAND, SCORCHING THE EARTH, CHEWING HER WAY THROUGH THE HEART OF OUR WORLD. IF THERE IS EVEN A CHANCE THIS BOY CAN STOP HER EVIL, WE MUST TAKE IT."

          "No..." Tom began. Aligore silenced him with a look.

          "Are you sure?" Elsie asked. "This is a choice that can't be unmade."

          Instead of answering, Aligore bent to his knees in front of her and lowered his head.

          Elsie bit her lip, hard, and a tiny dot of blood suddenly flashed like a winter rose against her skin. "Oh, Aligore," she said in a soft, sad voice.

          "PLEASE HURRY, PRINCESS. WE DO NOT HAVE MUCH TIME."

          Slowly and carefully, Elsie climbed onto Aligore's back. Tom let out an anguished cry and turned away.

          Aligore stood, his face grim. He closed his eyes. Then Sally noticed something terrible...the two horns protruding from the dragon's forehead were crumbling. Tiny shooting cracks appeared, and soon small flecks of bone and ash began to drift toward the ground. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Tom and Sally stared. Aligore's majestic horns were gone, leaving only two pale stubs of gnarled flesh behind. The ash caught in the wind and whipped through the clearing, vanishing into the sun.

          Elsie bent forward and touched the side of Aligore's face. Her cheeks were shining with tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll never be able to repay your loyalty and friendship."

          "IT IS AN HONOR TO SERVE YOUR MAJESTY." The dragon stared at the ground, at the few flecks of bone still clinging to the wet grass. His voice was flat and empty.  

          Elsie straightened up and turned to the others. "Tom, protect Dain until he wakes up. Sally, try to find Yap." They nodded mutely.

          "HOLD ON," Aligore said gruffly. Elsie wrapped her arms around his neck and the dragon shot forward, moving with a cat-like grace. Seconds later he had disappeared from sight.  

          "Poor Aligore," Tom said hoarsely, shaking his head. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen. Damn fool thing to do, but still brave."

          "What will happen to him? Without his horns, I mean?"

          Tom shrugged. "Maybe nothing. But there are some dragons out there that'll kill any hornless dragon they find...not to mention the stupid humans who'll try to capture him 'cause they think he's tame. I imagine the big lizard is gonna have some hard times ahead of him." He shook his head again. "Like I said, a stupid thing to do, but brave."

*        *          *

          Nothing could have prepared Elsie for the pure speed the dragon possessed.

          Several years ago, before Regina Cull had arrived to destroy everything Elsie had ever loved, the young Princess had been an avid horse rider. Her father had stocked an entire stable with sleek, powerful racing horses, and she had adored them all equally. She had even won several major races, although when you were the King's only daughter, it was sometimes difficult to tell the difference between truly winning and having the other competitors lose on purpose.

          Now her skill at bareback riding was the only thing that kept her from flying off the dragon’s back as he raced across the land. Aligore was so impossibly fast that the scenery seemed to change with each leaping bound. They raced over hills and down valleys, past fields of spoiled rumfruit rotting in the sun, over roaring rapids and through the thickest forests. She held tight to the bony protrusions on Aligore's shoulders, bent low into the wind and holding her breath with each new leap through the sky.

          She tried to ignore the stubs of gnarled flesh on Aligore's forehead where his horns had once stood. There would be time for apologies and grieving later. Assuming, of course, there was a later. She glanced at the ground rushing by beneath them and swallowed hard. If she fell now, it wouldn't be a pretty sight. She held onto his shoulders for dear life. 

          Aligore finally paused and stood motionless for a moment. His nostrils were flaring. "THEY'RE CLOSE," he announced. "MOVING VERY QUICKLY. HOLD ON, YOUR MAJESTY."

          "Don't worry about that," she mumbled.

          They continued on. It was impossible to guess how fast they were traveling or how much ground they had already covered. Everything blurred.

          Elsie's mind was racing. Unfortunately, it seemed to be racing in the wrong direction. First she agonized over which spell to use, finally settling on a Guardian Phoenix chant. She couldn't think of anything else. But what was the Phoenix incantation? The words were a jumble. Why did spells all have to be so stupidly complicated? Was the Phoenix spell morde ashen virositalus denum, or was it morde ashen seronerus torum? Her parents had taught her never to guess when it came to spellcasting--magicians who flubbed their spells often ended up with embarrassing physical ailments like Swollen Eyeballs or Exploded Head--but her parents were long gone. They had died and left her all alone, and it was pointless to think about them. They couldn't help her now.

          Aligore reached a large rock shelf bleeding out of the side of a dusty hill, and the dragon slid to a halt. He stared up at the sky, a deep growl rumbling in his throat. Elsie followed his gaze and realized that she was out of time. The scarabs were above them.

*        *          *

          Sally paced back and forth, trying to absorb all of the new sights and smells at once. At a glance, Rhyyne wasn't much different from Earth. The more she looked, however, the more subtle differences appeared. The air was different, for one thing...crisper and somehow cleaner. And the dirt beneath her feet was not gray, but rather a reddish-brown. And she had certainly never seen trees like these before...twisting strands of wood that looked like several smaller trees had been woven together into an awkward brown cord, their leaves twinkling golden in the light. A bug buzzed past her head and she was delighted to realize she had never seen anything like it before.

          "I think he's coming 'round," Tom said. Sure enough, Dain's eyelids fluttered. The man groaned and tried to sit up. Tom held him down. "Steady there, mate."

          "W-what happened?"

          "You got knocked out. We're in Rhyyne. Aligore and Elsie have gone after the Knight. He's still got Jonah." Tom delivered this information in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he were describing the weather on a particularly boring day.

          Dain's entire body seemed to crumple. "Then we have failed," he said in a low voice.

          "Eh...don't give up on 'em yet," Tom replied. "They're both tough...tougher than I'd have guessed, anyway."

          "But if we've returned to Rhyyne, the Knight must have his scarabs."

          "Huh. Yeah, well...that's the rumor." Tom looked uncomfortable.

          "Then we have failed," Dain repeated stubbornly.

          "What are they?" Sally interrupted. "The scarabs, I mean."

          Tom shuffled his feet, searching for words. "Well, scarabs are a weird breed, y'see. They're big, dumb, beetle-looking thingies, but somehow they're made of metal, if that makes any sense. Not quite dead, but not alive either. Something in-between."

          "Are they like robots?" Sally asked.

          "What's a robot?"

          "They're made out of metal. Sometimes they shoot lasers."

          "What's a laser?"

          "Forget it," she sighed.

          Tom shrugged. "Anyway, the scarabs serve the Red Knight. If there's a weapon or spell than can bust through their shells, we ain't found it yet. They're fast, too." The Dwarf's normally cheery face grew hard. "Those lousy lumps of metal have killed a lot of good Dwarves. Lot of my mates."

          "This is terrible..." Sally said softly.

          "At least someone here agrees with me," Dain mumbled. He opened his eyes and peered at Sally intently, as if seeing her for the first time. "Incidentally, who the blazes are you? Aren't you that little girl from Earth?"

          "My name is Sally," she said stiffly, feeling rather offended. She had, after all, saved Dain's life back at the orphanage. Well...kinda. Elsie and the flashlight had done most of the actual work, but it had been Sally's idea, and that should have counted for something.

          "And what are you doing in Rhyyne?" Dain asked.

          "I...umm...I came to help?"

          He snorted. "Well, you're doing a fine job so far."

          "Hey, at least I didn't get knocked out!"

          He scowled at her. "Watch your tongue, girl, or you'll find yourself flying home, courtesy of my boot."

          "Why, you arrogant..." Sally began, but Tom grabbed her shoulder and dragged her back.

          "Ticking off a guy with a giant sword and a recent head wound?" he said nervously. "Not a good idea. Besides, this arguing ain't gonna help anybody. We've gotta stick together. Right, Dain?"

          Dain said nothing. He turned and began to sharpen his sword on a nearby rock, muttering darkly under his breath. Sally stormed away to the other side of the clearing and flung herself down in a pile of golden leaves, feeling miserable and useless. She had decided that Dain wasn't very good-looking after all.

*        *          *

          "WHATEVER YOU'RE PLANNING ON DOING, PRINCESS, YOU HAD BETTER DO IT QUICKLY." Aligore's large chest was heaving, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. "I CAN'T FOLLOW THEM MUCH LONGER."

          Elsie stared at the scarabs high above them. There were four of the creatures, all roughly seven feet long and covered with segmented plates of black armor. Silhouetted against the sky, they could have passed for large birds at first glance...assuming, of course, you were accustomed to seeing birds with four blade-like wings, rows of clawed feet dangling beneath their bodies, and wicked-looking horns protruding from their snouts. The whirring hum of their wings was barely audible above the wind. The faint outline of the Red Knight was perched atop the largest scarab.

          "Stop here," Elsie instructed. "I'll do what I can." If I can, she added silently.

          "GOOD LUCK," Aligore offered weakly. He sounded about as confident as she felt.

          Elsie closed her eyes and concentrated. Magical spells are much more complicated than simply reciting arcane verses and long-winded incantations; they involve summoning energy from deep inside your body. If performed properly, the spell channels a person's strength, courage and intelligence into a single blinding blast of power, which is then shaped and given form by the actual words of the spell. If the spell isn't performed properly, things usually explode in a red, messy fashion. Elsie already felt drained--she had never used so many spells in such a short period of time before--but she thought she had strength for one last effort. Just one.

          Maybe.

          She felt the power welling up in her chest, already trying to break free and leap from her body, yet she contained it. The power increased even more, and with it came a stabbing pain, as if an iron vise was slowly tightening around her heart. Her breath grew shallow. Beads of sweat popped against her forehead. How can this much magic be inside me? she had time to wonder, but then a fresh starburst of pain exploded behind her eyelids and her world went white. This was the most complicated spell she had ever attempted; she had never built up this much energy before. It was an awful feeling, like every part of her body needed to sneeze but couldn't. This isn't going to work, she thought wildly. She could already feel control of the spell slipping out of her reach. She was going to lose it, going to fail, and Jonah would be delivered to the Sorceress, and their last hope would slip away forever, and it was all her fault, and...and...

          No, she thought. Not this time. I won't fail again.

          Every vein in her body stood out in bright relief against her pale skin. Her eyes felt like they were on fire. From somewhere far away, Aligore shuddered and moaned.

          Then she opened her mouth.

          "Morde ashen virositalus denum!" she cried, and the power cried with her. It screamed out of her body in an electric roar, already changing and taking shape as it shot away into the sky, summoning the Phoenixes from whatever strange land they called home. Elsie gave a trembling sigh and slid sideways from Aligore's back. She tumbled to the ground and lay still.

          "PRINCESS! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" the dragon asked, but his voice was distant and muted, as if fighting its way through water.

          Elsie closed her eyes, but she still saw everything. Except now she was looking through a new set of eyes...eyes that were streaking through the clouds at an incredible rate of speed. The land swept past below her in a blur of green and gray. In the distance, four black dots hovered against the sun. This new pair of eyes raced toward the dots, which quickly grew in size, larger and larger.

          At the last moment, the scarabs sensed her approach and turned for battle.

*        *          *

          The first Phoenix burst out of the clouds, soaring high above the scarabs. It was a magnificent creature, composed entirely of flames, burning hot against the sky. Its wings moved so quickly they were invisible, and the result resembled a streaking comet that happened to have a bird's pointed face. Its beak opened wide and it let out a resonant cry, like drops of water bouncing off priceless china. Common lore held that the cry of the Phoenix caused even the hardiest warrior to burst into tears at its impossible beauty.

          It made the Red Knight sneeze.

          The scarabs trumpeted in unison. They whirled around and raced toward the fiery creature. Murder gleamed in their glassy eyes.

          Two more Phoenixes raced into view. They darted in low and shot up between the scarabs, flickering tongues of fire following their progress. Spooked and uncertain, the scarabs broke formation and scattered, bellowing furiously.

          The Red Knight fought to regain control of his soldiers. The arrival of the Phoenixes was unexpected, but they hardly posed a threat. The creatures' only weapon was fire, an element that could not harm him or his scarabs. Beneath his faceplate, the thing that had once been his face twisted into something that almost resembled a smile. Let the stupid birds attack. He would massacre each and every one of them, and nothing pleased him more than a nice bit of massacring. Truth be told, it was something of a hobby for him. With a cry, he urged the scarabs into battle.

          As fast as the scarabs were, however, the Phoenixes were faster. They darted around the metal monsters with ease, their clear song ringing out. The scarabs lunged after them, but their movements were clumsy and slow in comparison. The Phoenixes swooped above and below them, back and forth, around and around.

          The Red Knight waited. The Phoenixes drew closer with every arching swoop and feint. One of the creatures unleashed a stream of fire as it passed. The fire splattered against the Knight's chest in a harmless shower of sparks, and he laughed.

          Frustrated, the Phoenixes moved closer.

*        *          *

          During this entire ordeal, only three noteworthy things had happened to Jonah.

          The first was that he had been very frightened. This is hardly surprising. Being alone in a dark, smelly pouch hanging from the waist of an invincible monster would tend to frighten most people. He had spent most of the battle in the orphanage curled in a fetal position, hyperventilating wildly. It was not the most heroic moment of his life, although, to his credit, almost no vomiting took place.

          The second noteworthy event was that he fainted. Except for the curious case of Percivale the Possum Lord and his legendary feats of unconsciousness, history generally does not smile on fainting, but in Jonah's situation, perhaps it can be forgiven. Alone in the darkness, he had been struck with the strangest sensation, as if he was somehow rushing through space at speeds bordering on the suicidal. He felt his limbs stretching and elongating, his nose trailing off into the air, his fingers running like water. And this was simply too much weirdness and terror for one day. His consciousness sensibly hung the Out To Lunch sign and bolted.

          And perhaps another noteworthy thing happened here, although he would not remember it until much later. While he was unconscious, it seemed that another presence was nearby, watching him. Once the presence even spoke to him, although its words were garbled and nearly impossible to understand.

          The complete transcript of the conversation was: "URK ...... not supposed to be ... KKKRRRSSS ... powers ... come closer ... RRRRRKKKK ... don't trust the ... SSSSSHHH ... traitor ... help ... GGGGRRRUKKK ... Rune of Roon can ... UZZZZ ...  escape from ... GLUNK."

          So it wasn't the most enlightening conversation.

          The final noteworthy event happened when Jonah finally awoke. The leather pouch was vibrating wildly around him, and the air was filled with the sound of a thousand buzzsaws. It sounded as if he was inside whichever factory made the gigantic robots that terrorized Japan in the Saturday matinee shows, all humming and clanking and roaring.

          But as he slowly got to his feet and felt his way to the edge of his prison, Jonah heard a new sound, a faint tremor of melody beneath the chaos. The noise grew louder, and he realized it was singing of some sort. He had never heard anything so beautiful in his life, haunting and sweet and strangely familiar. He pressed his ear against the leather and listened intently, his heart hammering in the darkness.

*        *          *

          The Red Knight struck with lightning speed, his sword flashing through the air. The nearest Phoenix swung away, but it was a fraction of a second too slow. The bird screamed as the blade tore through its body. A belch of flame erupted from its wound and the Phoenix spiraled away, trailing plumes of fire as it fell.

          The Knight turned back to the battle, chuckling a bit. One down, two to go. But the first Phoenix had merely been a distraction. Another Phoenix was already streaking up toward him, approaching low and fast. The Knight was nearly flung from his saddle as the wall of fire slammed into him, but he held fast. The Phoenix wheeled away with a cry. The Knight stared after it angrily, cursing his carelessness. That had been too close. Still…their little ploy had failed. They had sacrificed one of their own, yet had been unable to knock him from his mount. Instead the creature had merely grazed him, raking its claws uselessly across his indestructible armor...

          The Knight paused. No. They couldn't have... He glanced down and roared in anger.

          The pouch around his waist had been torn in half. Shreds of ruined leather swayed in the wind. It was empty.

*        *          *

          Well, this was certainly something new.

          One moment Jonah had been leaning against the leather wall, and then his world had become a blast of burning orange light. He had been tossed through the air, head over heels into the swirling orange void, and then the fire was gone, the pouch was gone, and all that was left was the big white sky.

          He was falling. It was a nasty shock, like walking through your bedroom door and instead plummeting off the side of a cliff. The wind whipped through his hair and his stomach knotted and twisted. The ground stretched out far beneath him, and he dimly realized he had been flying. And he was still flying, in a manner of speaking, although he was now doing it in a very vertical direction.

          It may seem strange that he wasn't more frightened, especially considering his earlier cowardice on the fire escape, but Jonah was a stubbornly practical boy. This was terrifying, yes, but there was no sense in panicking. He was falling, so he would deal with that problem first and worry about being scared later. As an experiment he arched his back, and the wind resistance slowly pulled him out of his face-first plunge into oblivion. With his body flattened against the wind, his speed began to decrease. I'm so light that I'm practically floating, he thought, and this wasn't far from the truth. He tilted his body to the left and immediately felt himself veering in that direction. So he could control the speed and direction of his fall…that was good. 

          The air filled with a buzzing shriek. Jonah glanced over his shoulder. His heart seemed to miss several beats in a row, as if it was busy searching for a way out of his chest and couldn't be bothered with all this blood-pumping nonsense. A massive metal creature was dropping down above him. It was huge…the size of a small yet persistently evil mountain range. Its cold red eyes flashed and its mouth opened wide.

          Jonah twisted his body into a vertical position and instantly plunged back into another heart-stopping dive. He risked another glance back. The metal monster was closer. The sound of its roaring wings filled the sky. It would be upon him in a matter of seconds.

          A blazing fireball suddenly darted between Jonah and the monster. The fireball let out a ringing cry as it slammed into the scarab, which veered away, bellowing furiously.

          Jonah concentrated on his dive. The ground was getting much closer. He could make out the distinct shapes of treetops, rocky outcroppings, and twisting blue rivers snaking out beneath him. He couldn't remember...if you fell out of an airplane, were you supposed to aim for water or try for a tree? He had once seen a television program where a skydiver had survived after falling several thousand feet and smacking into the Earth, but he hadn't paid attention to the specifics. Tree or river? Not the river, he quickly decided. I'd probably get knocked out and drown. And definitely not the rocks. That leaves the trees.

          Leaning back, he pulled himself out of the dive, and not a moment too soon. Another monstrous scarab roared past beneath him, snapping and snarling. The rush of wind from its wings slapped against him and spun him around. His arms pinwheeled helplessly. 

          When he finally righted himself, another scarab was already bearing down on him. Its mouth dropped open, and Jonah immediately jack-knifed his body and dove again. The scarab seemed to have anticipated this, however, and it also dropped sharply, cutting through the air between them. It was too fast. He couldn't avoid it.

          One of the Phoenixes struck the scarab at the last second. The monster's jaws slammed shut inches from Jonah as it whirled around. Jonah breathed a trembling sigh of relief, but a sudden scream made him glance back. The scarab was holding the Phoenix in its powerful jaws. Its head shook viciously and the Phoenix fell away in two blazing segments. Jonah turned away, feeling sick and guilty.

          But there was no time to mourn. A scarab was already racing toward him, dropping at a diagonal angle. Its obscene body blotted out the entire sun. Jonah forced himself to remain calm as its shadow fell over him. At the last second, he violently twisted his body to the side and veered off to the right. The scarab hovered for a moment, then plunged after him. Jonah watched as the trees rushed up to greet him. The sound of the scarab's wings became almost unbearable. When he was certain the scarab was almost upon him, he twisted away to the left and simultaneously pulled himself out of the dive. The scarab rushed past him, unable to break out of its own dive in time.

          That went well, Jonah thought, feeling pleased with himself.

          Then he glanced over and found himself staring into a mouth that looked like the Grand Canyon, only with more teeth. The scarab swooped toward him. He didn't even have time to scream.

          There was another burst of orange and a sudden jolt that knocked Jonah senseless for a moment. He blinked, then stared. Tremendous orange claws were wrapped around his body, flickering with flame. The final Phoenix had plucked him from the air, and now they were skimming along the treetops at a breakneck speed. The burning claws were hot, but the Phoenix's fire didn't seem dangerous. It lapped at his clothes harmlessly, which was fine with Jonah, who had never been a fan of flaming death.

          The Phoenix streaked through the sky, and Jonah had never even dreamed that anything could move this fast. The ground was a blur. The wind tore tears from the corners of his eyes. If he could have caught his breath, he would have whooped laughter. It was exhilarating.

          And then the last scarab dropped from the sky in front of them, the Red Knight seated atop its back.

          The Knight's sword sliced through the air and the Phoenix shrieked. Its claws suddenly went slack and Jonah tumbled into space. He caught a quick glimpse of the Phoenix disintegrating in a white-hot supernova high above him, he saw the Red Knight wheeling around and diving after him, and then Jonah hit the canopy of trees and everything went green.

          And then everything went black.

CHAPTER TEN:

NEVER SPEAK TO STRANGE BICKERS

          The clearing was silent.

          It wasn't completely silent, of course. Few things in the universe truly are. Even the smallest asteroid in the most desolate reaches of space will occasionally let out a tiny little burp of escaping gas every so often, as if saying, hey, just in case anybody was wondering, I'm still here. Scientists will scoff at this notion, arguing that there can be no sounds in outer space, but that just goes to prove they are listening wrong.

          But the point is that this particular grassy clearing in Rhyyne was extremely quiet, and only a creature with very sharp ears could have heard Jonah hit the trees, and then only if it had been paying attention. And if this creature had listened intently, it might have been able to follow Jonah's vertical progress through the trees, which involved a lot of grunting and thumping.

          There was one last rustlethunkouch as Jonah plunged through the final few branches and fell into the clearing. He was lying prone atop a large golden leaf that, until a few seconds ago, had been having a pretty good day. The leaf and its tiny passenger swirled through the air in great looping circles. If the leaf was pleased that it was being used as a makeshift parachute, it gave no indication. But considering that leaves spend most of their time plotting the downfall of the human race, this seemed rather unlikely.

          The leaf finally came to rest on the dusty ground, settling into place with a defeated sigh. Jonah lay motionless for several minutes, swearing quietly. He had no idea what most of the curses he was muttering actually meant, but he knew they were rude and that was good enough for him. His entire body ached, his muscles screaming with the type of pain that generally makes a person go cross-eyed and drool, which he was currently doing.

          The scarabs were still buzzing high above him. They whirred and clacked furiously. He waited for them to burst through the trees after him, but it never happened. He wasn't going to complain.

          After what seemed like hours but probably wasn't, he slowly got to his feet. Although everything seemed slightly bent, nothing seemed broken. He took a few tentative steps. His legs were wobbly, but they held. At least he could still walk.

          And I escaped, he thought with a sudden rush of pride. Of course, he hadn't played much of a role in his escape...those fiery birds and the doggedly efficient force of gravity had done most of the work, but that didn't matter. He was free.

          For one single, shining moment, Jonah was actually happy. But it didn't take long for the reality of the situation to settle down around him. Yes, he was free, that much was true. But he was also alone in a strange forest, he had no food, and he was less than an inch tall, and this was not a good combination of events. I'm gonna die, he thought, and since he had just survived a thousand-foot plunge, Jonah now considered himself something of an expert on the subject of new and interesting ways to die. He had never been a glass-is-half-full type of kid.

          His morbid train of thought was derailed by the sound of approaching voices. He glanced around and saw a creature in the distance, slowly shambling in his direction. It was fortunately only a little taller than himself, and it didn't appear threatening. Still...what was it? It scampered along on eight stubby legs, and two furry heads protruded from the thick, yak-like hair covering its body. The heads had glassy eyes and large, floppy ears, and they bobbed in unison as it walked, occasionally colliding with a hollow thud. The creature didn't seem to mind this.

          And the heads were arguing. With each other. Jonah rubbed his forehead. A concussion, he thought. I've got a concussion. It made sense. He had fallen through the sky, cracked his head, and his brain had stepped away from its desk and gone outside for a smoke. And now here came the hallucinations, right on schedule.

          It was a perfectly rational explanation. It was also wrong. 

          "I told you we should've ate that bug!" the creature's left head was saying loudly. "But noooooooooo, says you! Let's wait for something better, says you! And now we're going to starve to death and..."

          "Oh, would you shut up?" the right head interrupted. "I'm not eating a dung beetle. Don't care how hungry we are, I'm not doing it. Why, do you know where those things have been? I'll give you a hint...it rhymes with dung."

          "Always being selfish, always thinking about yourself," the left head continued, ignoring its companion. "Do you ever ask me what I want to do? No, of course you don't. Maybe I don't like swimming! Maybe I'm scared of the water! Maybe every time I look at the water, I die a little on the inside! But do you ever take the time to ask, just out of common courtesy, before you go plunging into the river?"

          "Well, are you scared of the water?"

          "No, don't be ridiculous. I love the water. It's my favorite thing. I'm just saying that I could be scared of it. I swear, you act like you're all alone on this body sometimes!"

          "I wish I was," the right head complained. "Maybe then I could get some sleep without you laying there making rotten sounds and smells all night long..."

          Jonah took a step forward. The two-headed creature looked strange, but it didn't seem dangerous. Stupid, maybe, but not dangerous. "Excuse me!" he said.

          The creature stopped. Both heads stared at him.

          "I suppose you want to eat this, too..." the right head snapped.

          "Don't be ridiculous. This ugly little thing is far too scrawny to..."

          "I'm a human," Jonah said quickly, hoping to cut short any discussions that would end with him inside a stomach. "My name's Jonah."

          The right head looked him up and down critically. "No," it finally said, "you're absolutely wrong. You're not a human. Don't know exactly what you are...maybe some sort of failed lizard/goat/thing...but you're not a human."

          "No, I really am," Jonah insisted. "Promise."

          The head shook vehemently. "No, no, no. Humans are big. You're not big."

          "You're small," the left head offered helpfully.

          The right head whirled around. "Of course he's small!" it roared. "That's the opposite of big, isn't it? That's what I just said, isn't it?"

          "Don't get lippy with me," the left head growled. "I can bite you."

          "You can't. Your neck is too stumpy to reach."

          "Well, I can spit in your eye. I've been wanting to do that for a while."

          "Please!" Jonah interrupted. "I really am a human being. I was...well...shrunk...I guess."

          "Really?" the right head asked politely, blowing a rather large snot bubble at him.

          "It's quite nice, isn't it?" the left head asked. "I was shrunk once."

          "No, you were not!" the right head screamed. "You've never been shrunk!"

          "Course I have. Anyway, you wouldn't know about it. You weren't there."

          "We're attached to the same body, you twit!"

          Jonah stared, his mouth hanging open in a cowish fashion. The giant beetles, the flaming birds, the two-headed creature…suddenly, it all made sense. I'm standing on another planet, he thought.

          "Is this Rhyyne?" he asked excitedly.

          "Whuzzat?"

          "Um...this planet that we're currently standing on. What's it called?"

          The right head frowned. "What's a planet?"

          Jonah shrugged helplessly. "It's a big thing in space," he said.

          "Like a goat?"

          Jonah stared. "No. Not like a goat Not like a goat at all."

          The heads looked disappointed.

          "So...um...what are you?" Jonah hoped this wouldn't offend the creature, but he couldn't think of a more diplomatic way to phrase the question.

          "We're a Bicker," the right head said, as if this explained everything.

          "I'm also a Bicker," the left head added. "A better one."

          "I just said that! I said we! That's plural! Plural, stupid, plural! It means both of us!"

          "I know what plurals are," the other head said quickly. "I've seen lots of them. Very nice, they are."

          "You can't see plurals! You're making things up again, and I hate you for it!"

          "No! Really, I'm not! I saw a plural just the other day, down by the water. It was swimming. Splendid tail, all flapping around and such. Very festive."

          "That was a fish!"

          "Yes," the left head said with some satisfaction. "A plural fish."

          The heads immediately launched into another heated argument, which seemed to involve an unnecessary amount of spitting and biting. Jonah waited politely, but the Bicker seemed to have forgotten him completely. Jonah finally cleared his throat. "Umm...could you tell me where I am?"

          The two heads stared at him. "He doesn't even know where he is!" the left head remarked. "Thuddingly stupid, this one."

          "He doesn't even know what he is," the right head grumbled. "Could be anything with an attitude like that, anything at all. Why, for all we know, he could be a Wolfen!"

          "A Wolfen!" the other head howled in terror. "Come to kill us all! The apocalypse of the Bickers is upon us! Should we flee madly, do you think?"

          "Maybe later," the right head said sagely. "First let's try spitting at him. That generally works well with apocalypse-type thingies."

          "I'm a human," Jonah repeated desperately. "I'm not dangerous, and I really don't want to be spit on, if you both don't mind. I was...well, dropped here, I suppose. Can't you please tell me where I am?"

          "You're in the Unicorn Glade," the left head said.

          "Oh, are there Unicorns here?" Jonah asked.

          "No," the head said flatly.

          "Of course there are!" the other head shrieked, its eyes bulging out of its skull. "Why would it be called the Unicorn Glade if there were no Unicorns here?"

          "Oh, right. I forgot. Yes, there are Unicorns," the left head said brightly. "And plurals."

          "Where are they?" Jonah asked. "The Unicorns, I mean." 

          "Their cave is that way," the right head said, motioning toward the forest. "We can show you the entrance if you like, ugly little mock human thingy."

          "Um...sure. That would be great."

          "But they'll probably squash you," the right head continued.

          "Or gore you."

          "Or eat you."

          "Or shrink you."

          "He's already been shrunk, stupid!" the right head exploded. "Just look at him!"

          "Oh. Right. Well, they'll probably just eat you. Maybe in a nice salad or something, with a few berry sprigs to bring out your flavor." It smacked its lips appreciatively.

          Jonah was confused. He had never considered the idea that Unicorns might be carnivorous. "Why would they eat me?"

          "Unicorns are mighty peculiar creatures," the right head said loftily. "Never can quite figure out what they're going to do next. Besides, they don't like humans much. You're the first one I've ever seen here. If, in fact, you are a human. Which you probably aren't. Most things aren't, you know, so the odds aren't exactly in your favor."

          "That was a lot of aren'ts," the left head said. It seemed pleased by this.

          There was a sudden roar of mechanical wings from high above the trees as one of the scarabs raced past. Its dull metal thrum filled the clearing. Jonah cowered helplessly on the ground, his eyes wide with fear.

          The Bicker watched him curiously.

          "I think the human is dying," the left head remarked. "How interesting."

          "He probably ate some of those wretched dung beetles."

          "Yes, those are delicious."

          "Please," Jonah said quickly. "If that thing"--he pointed upwards--"finds us here, it'll probably kill us all. We have to hide."

          "Don't be ridiculous," the right head scoffed. "I told you, we're in the Unicorn Glade. Nothing bad can get in here. The magic of the Unicorns won't allow it."

          Jonah stood tentatively. The sound of the scarab was fading into the distance. "You mean...we're safe?"

          "Of course we are. That's why so many creatures live here in the Glade. The Unicorns protect us." The head glared at Jonah darkly. "Don't know if they'd protect you, though. Don't like humans much."

          "Please, can you just tell me where they are?" Jonah asked. The Bicker seemed harmless in the same way a third nipple is harmless...it certainly wasn't hurting anything, but it wasn't helping matters either. It was just there.

          "Right. This way," the left head said.

          But the right head didn't budge. "Wait one bloody moment! What about a reward?"

          "Err...a reward for what?" Jonah asked cautiously.

          "Why, for guiding you to the Unicorns. It's customary to give rewards to creatures that help you. That's a fact. Surprised you didn't know it."

          Jonah sighed. He couldn't think of anything he owned that the Bicker would possibly want. He didn't even have shoes, for crying out loud; what was he supposed to offer them? "What kind of reward?"

          "Gold!" the left head said cheerfully.

          "No, that's no good," the right head protested. "Too goldish. What about an acorn? We could use it to grow a tree."

          "No, trees are evil. They want to harm us. What about a tail?"

          "We've already got at least one tail. Maybe more...I haven't checked lately. Anyway, two tails would be too much."

          "Oh, right. What about some dirt?"

          The right head seemed to consider this. "Yes, dirt would be good," it said thoughtfully.

          "Dirt! Dirt!" they cried in unison.

          Jonah stared at the ridiculous creature. It wanted dirt? He shrugged, then bent and scooped up a handful of reddish dirt. He presented it to them.

          "Fantastic!"

          "Wonderful!"

          They made no attempt to take the dirt. They simply stared at it, beaming. "Well, do you want it or not?" Jonah finally asked.

          "Eh? No, of course not. It's dirt."

          "We'd get dirty."

          "Evil lives in dirt! I don't want to be evil!" the left head screamed madly.

          "There, there..." the right head said soothingly.

          Jonah rolled his eyes. This was getting old. "Now will you show me the way to the Unicorns?" he pleaded.

          "Right. A deal is a deal, after all. Especially those big deals. The ones with the horns. What're they called again?"

          "Unicorns."

          "Ah, yes. Kings of the sea, I believe they're called. Majestic creatures. Very clean. Tidy, too."

          "Spanking good creatures," the left head added helpfully.

          "Why won't you just shut up?" the right head shouted at the top of its lungs.

          The Bicker set off through the woods. Jonah followed some distance behind it, trying to ignore the creature's constant prattling and its stupidly unobservant observations. Instead he studied the forest around him. Parts of this world seemed strangely familiar, while in other respects it was completely alien. He saw several rabbits that looked properly rabbitish--only greener--but the animals dashed away into the undergrowth as soon as they heard the Bicker. Jonah didn't blame them. He also saw normal-looking dragonflies (except they appeared to be the size of small and possibly hostile flying cars), and once he heard a birdcall that sounded like a robin. But he also saw a pale yellow creature shaped like a tube of toothpaste, rolling and unrolling its way through the dirt. There were also buzzing insects that occasionally duplicated themselves in a shower of sparks, as well as the tiny balls of light that emitted a high whistling sound as they rushed through the air above him. Thankfully, none of these odd creatures seemed interested in Jonah, although they might have simply been unwilling to approach the Bicker, whose heads were currently debating whether or not they could fly. The left head seemed convinced there were wings hidden away somewhere on its body. The right head was not, only with much more volume. It really was an obnoxious creature, Jonah decided.

          At last the trees broke and Jonah found himself climbing down the bank of a rushing blue river. It was no more than ten feet across at its widest point, but it was an ocean to Jonah's eyes. He stared at the breaking waves apprehensively. The Bicker was probably stupid enough to leap into the water, which seemed like a very bad idea. Jonah was only good at swimming straight down. He had never mastered any of the parts that didn't involve drowning.

          The Bicker paused at the water's edge and looked back. "Well, this is it," the right head announced.

          "This is what?" Jonah was confused.

          "This is the Unicorn," the left head piped up.

          "No, it is not!" the right head howled. "It's a river! Or maybe an inlet of some sort, but that doesn't matter!"

          "Hmm," the left head said. "Yes. Unicorn. Right."

          "You're not even paying attention to me! Just look at it! Do you see a horn? Do you see a tail?"

          "Err...yes?" the left head ventured. Its face was desperate with hope.

          The right head screamed in fury, and the two heads launched at each other, biting madly. Thanks to their short necks, however, neither of them could reach the other, so they snapped and slobbered in mid-air.

          Jonah gave the sky a nervous glance. The Bicker was making too much noise for comfort. How good was a scarab's hearing? He decided not to wait around to find out. "Excuse me!" he yelled. "Hey! Knock it off!"

          The two heads broke off and stared at him. The right head let a sliver of drool dribble from its mouth until the drool was almost touching the ground, then it sucked the drool back up and chomped on it for a moment. It seemed proud of this towering achievement.

          "The human is rude," the left head remarked pleasantly.

          "Quite," the right one agreed.

          "How do I get to the Unicorns?" Jonah asked.

          "Down the river, of course. There's no other way into their cave."

          Jonah bit his lower lip and glanced at the water. This wasn't what he had wanted to hear. "Down the river, huh? Does that mean I have to swim?"

          "Unless you know how to walk on water like the Unicorns."

          "You don't, do you?" the left head asked eagerly.

          Jonah shook his head. "Afraid not. And I'm not a very good swimmer."

          "Then you'll probably drown. That's what usually happens."

          "I drowned once," the left head volunteered.

          Before the heads could start arguing again, Jonah waved his arms for silence. "What if I floated down the river on a stick or something?"

          The heads nodded wisely. "That might work," the right one said. "As long as you don't drown."

          "I drowned once," the left head repeated, desperate for attention.

          The right head flew into another spluttering rage at this. Holding his hands over his ears, Jonah hurried away from the Bicker. His eyes scanned the muddy riverbank until he found what he was looking for: a large stick tangled in a clump of weeds. He waded into the water and wrestled the stick free. It certainly felt strong enough to hold his weight. He was willing to risk it. At this point, drowning was preferable to spending any more time with the Bicker.

          He pushed the stick away from the bank and the current suddenly took hold. He clambered onto the stick, which was wet and slimy with moss. The stick spun in a lazy circle, bobbing slightly in the current.

          He passed the Bicker. "Thanks for your help!" he called, feeling he should at least be polite. The Bicker ignored him. The left head was busy scooping up glops of mud in its mouth and spitting them at the right head, who was screaming furious threats about drowning them both.

          Once his stick reached the center of the river, the current actually proved to be   rather peaceful. Jonah dangled his feet in the cool water and leaned back, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun. The sound of the Bicker's voices grew softer and weaker and eventually faded away altogether.

          Jonah had never realized how much he enjoyed silence.

*        *          *

          Aligore made his way across the desert cautiously, keeping his eyes fixed on the sky. The scarabs appeared to have left the area, but there was no telling when they would return. If caught in the open, the dragon would make a very large and very green sitting duck. The forest was a small dot swimming on the horizon.

          Elsie sat on his back, her expression dazed, her face pale. She had fallen silent after telling Aligore what she had seen through the eyes of Phoenixes, starting with their first attack run and ending with a final glimpse of Jonah tumbling into the trees. The Red Knight and his scarabs seemed unable to follow for some reason, which meant Jonah might be safe, but this was small comfort.

          She had killed the Phoenixes. Not intentionally, of course, but it was still her fault. She had ordered them into battle, directed their actions, and ultimately sent them to their doom. Such beautiful, majestic creatures...such a brave battle against impossible odds...and now they were gone. And she might as well have killed them with her own hands. She buried her face in her hands.

          "IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT, YOUR HIGHNESS," Aligore rumbled.

          Elsie didn't answer.

          "YOU CALLED THEM AND YOU ASKED THEM TO FIGHT, BUT YOU DIDN’T ASK THEM TO DIE. THEY CHOSE THAT PATH. PHOENIXES ARE STRANGE CREATURES. I HAVE HEARD IT SAID THAT THEY DO NOT MERELY SEE THE PRESENT, BUT ALSO THE PAST AND FUTURE, ALL AT ONCE. THEY WOULD NOT HAVE SACRIFICED THEIR LIVES IF THEY DIDN’T BELIEVE JONAH WAS WORTH DYING FOR, NO MATTER WHAT YOU ASKED THEM TO DO."

          "But if it hadn't been for me..."

          "IF IT HADN’T BEEN FOR YOU, JONAH WOULD ALREADY BE DEAD. FOR WHATEVER REASON, THE PHOENIXES DECIDED HIS LIFE WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THEIR OWN. THEY FOUGHT FOR YOU, YOUR HIGHNESS, BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE...THEY DIED FOR HIM."

          "But why?" she asked. "I still don't understand. What makes Jonah so important?"

          Aligore shook his head slowly. "I DON’T UNDERSTAND THAT EITHER, BUT YOU KNOW THE PROPHECY AS WELL AS I DO. IF HE IS THE BOY..."

          "The prophecy," Elsie said bitterly. "I wonder what Jonah will think when he hears that."

          Aligore chose his words carefully. "I DON'T THINK HE NEEDS TO HEAR IT, PRINCESS. EVER. IF YOU WERE IN HIS POSITION, WOULD YOU WANT TO KNOW?"

          Elsie sighed. "No, I suppose not. But it seems so unfair..."

          Aligore shrugged. "LIFE IS UNFAIR," he said simply.

          "And if he's not the boy from the prophecy?" she asked. "If this is just some horrible mistake? Will all these sacrifices have been worth it?" She stared at the stubs where Aligore's proud horns had once stood. "All this pain and misery…all those deaths…will they be worth it?"

          Aligore looked uncomfortable. "THINGS HAPPEN IN THIS WORLD FOR A REASON. SOMETIMES WE CANNOT SEE THE REASON. SOMETIMES WE SEE IT BUT CANNOT UNDERSTAND IT. BUT THE REASON IS ALWAYS THERE." He grew quiet, as if embarrassed by this humble philosophy.

          "I hope you're right," said Elsie softly.

          They continued in silence. The sun sank below the skyline and cool purple twilight settled around them. Aligore relaxed his pace slightly. To pass the time, he told Elsie of the strange things he had seen on Earth. She seemed especially intrigued by all of the machines, finding the concept of automobiles and automatic sliding doors very magical indeed.

          Some time later they finally reached the edge of the forest. Although the land surrounding the forest was barren and silent, a symphony of bird calls and other gruntish animal noises drifted out of the woods. There were few places left in Rhyyne that felt serene and peaceful, but this was one of them.

          "Should we go in?" she asked.

          Aligore shrugged. "CAN'T STAY OUT HERE."

          But a large Unicorn suddenly materialized out of the gloom, standing in the shadows of the forest. The Unicorn said nothing, but it lowered its horn in a threatening manner.

Elsie was confused. She had always thought Unicorns were cheerfully stupid creatures, not to mention peace-loving, yet this large stag appeared to be neither. She slid off Aligore's back. "Hello," she attempted. She gave the Unicorn a formal curtsey, feeling rather foolish for doing so.

          It stared at her.

          She took a tentative step forward. The Unicorn snorted loudly and pawed the ground, throwing up clods of dirt and grass. It seemed especially agitated by Aligore's presence, and Elsie remembered that Unicorns and dragons were not exactly on friendly terms.

          "YOUR HIGHNESS, I THINK YOU HAD BETTER STEP BACK," Aligore growled. His eyes flashed a dangerous orange, and his tail whipped through the air. "IT'S PREPARING TO CHARGE."

          "But Jonah is in there..."

          "THEN WE WILL WAIT FOR HIM TO COME OUT. WE DON'T SEEM TO BE WELCOME HERE."

          Elsie stepped away from the forest. The Unicorn seemed to relax slightly, although it kept a careful eye on them.

          "I've heard rumors about a place called the Unicorn Glade...a forest the Unicorns vanished into when the monsters arrived," Elsie said, frowning. "But I didn't think it actually existed."

          "NEITHER DID I." Aligore's expression was thunderstruck. "I ALWAYS ASSUMED THE UNICORNS WERE SIMPLY KILLED OFF BY THE MONSTERS."

          "That explains why the Red Knight couldn't follow Jonah," Elsie said slowly. "The forest must be enchanted. But how did Jonah get in?"

          The dragon shook his head. "I DON'T KNOW. BUT WE NEED TO FIND A SAFE CAMPSITE FOR THE NIGHT. I SUGGEST WE LEAVE."

          "But Jonah..."

          "IF JONAH IS UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE UNICORNS, HE IS SAFER THAN WE ARE."

          Reluctantly, Elsie gave up. She climbed onto Aligore's back and they started across the desert once more. She threw a glance over her shoulder. The Unicorn had disappeared back into the dark of the forest.

*        *          *

          Considering the chaotic events of the last twenty-four hours, Jonah's trip down the river was surprisingly peaceful. Several times he found himself on the verge of dozing off, and he splashed cold water on his face to keep awake. Falling asleep and slipping into the water would be a stupid death.

          Only two memorable things happened.

          The first was that he almost died, although he wouldn't realize it until some time later. At one point he passed a rodent-shaped creature struggling in the middle of the stream. It was the size of a small dog that had been bashed repeatedly in the head with a hammer, its forehead flattened until it resembled an extremely ugly shovel. The creature splashed and wailed pathetically as he passed, clearly on the verge of going under. It extended one paw to him, desperate for help. Jonah almost reached out and grabbed it, but then he drew back. He was barely able to keep himself above the water, much less a giant rat-thing.

          "Sorry," he muttered, feeling rotten and useless.

          It was the closest of close calls.

          The second memorable event was when he reached the cave. Something appeared from the gloom before him, a towering shelf of darkness. The shape sprang into focus and he saw it was a giant mossy boulder. The river ran down a series of small rapids that pooled into a gaping hole at the base of the boulder. Jonah clung tightly to the stick as it bounced and bobbed down the rapids, occasionally whipping around in dizzy little whirlpool circles. A spiderweb of long vines covered the mouth of the cave, drooping down into the water, but Jonah passed between the vines easily and darkness fell around him.

*        *          *

          Jonah drifted through the cave for what seemed like a very long time. He began to grow worried. Why had he listened to the Bicker? The stupid creature had probably sent him to his death. What if the river just kept going, winding its way further and farther underground? There were certainly no Unicorns down here, but there might be other creatures, ones that lived in the dim and preyed on creatures foolish enough to venture into their domain.

          The river eventually slowed to a crawl before dumping him into a large pool of still water. He paddled his way to shore, feeling annoyed. Where had the river gone? Were rivers allowed to just end like that, without even a warning? It didn't quite seem fair.

          After what seemed like an eternity of paddling, he finally reached dry land. It was too dark to see more than a few feet in any direction. How would he ever find his way back to the surface?

          He wouldn't, of course. Some boys are destined to become lawyers or doctors, astronauts or bank robbers. Jonah had a sneaking suspicion that he had been born with a big, fat expiration date hanging over his head. He seemed destined to die stupidly. He kicked a spray of wet sand through the air, then sat down at the water's edge, feeling lost and miserable. Also, his feet were cold. He missed his shoes.

          There's no way of telling how much time passed, since time becomes just as slow and drowsy as the rest of us once the lights go out. But some time later, a soft glow appeared in the distance. As Jonah watched, the glow gradually grew larger and brighter. A number of torches appeared to be bobbing toward him. He waited nervously, wondering what type of new and interesting creatures were about to eat him.

          The gathering light began to illuminate the cavern around him. Jonah gasped. Impossible as it seemed, the cavern was teeming with life. It was an underground forest. Towering trees spread out in brilliant canopies of green and gold, their upper branches brushing against the stalactites on the ceiling. Ribbons of grass wound their way around flower patches in graceful arcs. As Jonah watched, a small squirrel-like creature leaped from one tree to the next, disappearing into the green with one last flick of its double-pronged tail.

          Jonah was so amazed by the forest that he forgot the approaching light until the creatures were upon him. He glanced up and gave a weak sigh of relief.

          Ten Unicorns had emerged from the forest, their bodies glowing with a pale golden light. They walked slowly and solemnly, and the forest seemed to come alive around them. They gathered in a circle around Jonah and came to a halt, curiously peering down at this tiny newcomer.

          "Err...hullo," Jonah ventured.

          You're a human, the largest Unicorn said in a deep, resonant voice. It didn't seem to be a question. An alarmingly small one.

          Jonah's jaw dropped open. The Unicorns in Tom's dream had been stupid creatures, but there was a sharp intelligence in this one's voice, a sense of purpose and nobility. But then he realized the Unicorn hadn't said anything at all; its lips had never moved. Instead its voice had seemed to come from inside Jonah's head. He had read enough X-Men comics to know what telepathy meant, but he had never thought he would experience it. He was speechless.

          Our home is enchanted to keep all dangerous creatures at bay, including humans, the Unicorn continued. And yet here you are.

          "I'm very sorry," Jonah babbled in a helpless rush. "I was kidnapped but then these birds made out of fire attacked the metal beetles and I was dropped and I fell into your forest and I'm really sorry about that but the Red Knight was after me and I..."

          But at the mention of the Red Knight the Unicorns began to mutter nervously to one another. Several of them backed away from Jonah as if he were a poisonous snake.

          The Red Knight? the large Unicorn demanded. What does he want with you?

          "I...I don't know," said Jonah miserably. "I have no idea why he wants me. There's nothing special about me...I'm just a kid. Everything's trying to eat me, or kill me, or kidnap me, and I don't even know why..." He trailed off, surprised to discover that tears were welling up in his eyes. He was utterly exhausted, and the terror of the last few hours had finally caught up with him. All at once the strength ran out of his legs and he sat down with a thump in the wet sand. 

          "Please don't kill me," he whispered. "I'm sorry for coming here, I didn't mean to trespass, but I've got nowhere else to go and I'm all alone and I'm scared. Please don't kill me."

          Kill you? the Unicorn said in a shocked voice. Why would we ever do that?

          A second Unicorn stepped forward, slightly smaller than the first. The voice in Jonah's mind was compassionate and motherly, but her expression was sharp, almost fearful. The boy has a memory lock, Droo. Can't you sense it? It's so...dark. She shuddered a bit.

          Jonah had no idea what she was talking about. "Memory lock?" he repeated weakly. "Wuzzat?"

          The Unicorn named Droo stared at him for a moment, as if lost in thought. It means you know something you're not supposed to know, boy, he said at last. And judging by the way that dark thing in your head is spitting and hissing at us, whoever put it there was probably not a very nice person.

          "There's something in my head?" Jonah paled. "What is it? Can you get it out?"

          Droo thought for a moment, then nodded. Hold on, boy. I don't think this will hurt--as long as it doesn't fight me--but it probably won't feel pleasant either. He lowered his horn, which suddenly flashed with an electric light. Before Jonah even had time to panic, the light had enveloped him. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. He felt the tension drain from his body in slow, pulsing waves. His feet kicked idly in the air. He glanced down and wasn't particularly surprised to find himself floating several inches above the ground. Magic, he thought. Cool.

          Then something in his head twisted and shrieked, and he felt as though he was being pulled in two directions at once. A lance of pain ran down his spine and he cried out. The Unicorns murmured in alarm. Droo said nothing. He merely concentrated on Jonah, his horn flashing silver and gold.

          There was another jolt of pain, and a sudden wet sensation in Jonah's left ear, hot and uncomfortable. My brains exploded, he thought numbly. Unfortunate, but considering the day he had been having, it was hardly surprising. But then the wetness moved, and he realized it was a something, that it was alive. The something leaped from his ear and the pain abruptly stopped.

          Jonah glanced over just in time to see a tiny black object skittering across the sand. Its body was covered in damp clumps of dirty hair, and it made a shrill screaming noise as it went. Then Droo's hoof came thundering down, smashing the black thing out of existence. The Unicorn ground his hoof into the sand, his lip curling in distaste. That was a little one, he said. Nasty buggers, aren't they?

          Jonah opened his mouth to ask what had just happened, but that was when the memories hit him. They slammed into his brain one after the other, like waves breaking against the shore, all clamoring and fighting for attention. And he remembered.

          Touching a tree in the woods, his body covered with paint. The tree explodes. Jonah is flung through the air, his head spinning, lightning still streaming from his fingertips.

          "No..." he muttered.

          The slug monster lunges at him, knocking a supermarket cart aside. Its gaping mouth swings open. He can't move. He's frozen. And then the lightning is pouring out of his body again, creating a wall of electric force between him and the slug, sending him flying backwards through a row of shelves that instantly melt on impact. He feels like his body is ripping apart, like he's on fire from the inside out.

          "No!" he managed. He took a lurching, awkward step forward, his arms pinwheeling for balance.

          He’s sitting in his room, trying to make things explode. He's a superhero. Or, at the very least, a cowardly boy who has a superhero's powers. And this is why the Sorceress wants him. Because he’s not a normal boy. Because he's a freak. Because he's a monster. Because he's dangerous.

          It was too much information…too many nightmares and lies and shameful secrets at once. How long? he thought. How long has this been going on?

          And the answer, of course, was forever.

          His eyes rolled back. He keeled forward into the sand, and his world went dark.

          The Unicorns stared down at him.

          Well, Droo said cheerfully, that went better than expected.    

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

DOG'S EAR

          Tom? Tom, can you hear me?

          Nice dream. Very pretty butterflies.

          Thanks. I needed some butterflies after today.

          That bad, huh? You both okay?

          ...Yeah, we're fine.

          And Jonah?

          We got him away from the Red Knight, but...um...well, he fell into the Unicorn Glade. We can't follow him.

          The what? The Unicorn Glade doesn't exist.

          No, Tom, it's real. Trust me. We were just there.

          Okay, okay. Huh. So what's the plan now?

          We're going to rest here for the night. Are you all okay?

          Yeah, we're fine. Just sleeping. Obviously.

          Did you find Yap?

          Yeah, he showed up not too long after you left. Came out of the trees whimpering about getting too scared. Guess the stupid critter teleported himself before he got all the way into Rhyyne...popped up in some other spot instead. Too bad, though...he found us again.

          Be nice, Tom .

          Sure, fine. So what's the plan?

          Well, we're going to stay close to the Glade. Jonah can't stay in there forever. Can you come and meet us here?

          Where are you?

          Can you see the mountain range from where you are?

          Yup.

          Head straight toward it. The Glade isn't too far from the base of the mountains. If you hit a long stretch of desert, you're going in the right direction. I'm guessing it'll probably take you two days to get here on foot, so I'll contact you again tomorrow night with better directions.

          Got it. Are you all right, Princess? You sound a little...strange.

          It's been a long day.

          Then you'd better get your rest. We'll see you soon.

          Be careful, Tom.

          Hey, when am I not careful?

          That's kinda my point.

          Oh. Right.

*        *          *

          A thick layer of clouds had rolled in during the night, blanketing the sky and beating the sun into helpless submission. The forest was cool and still around them.

          Sleeping on the ground tends to bring out the worst in you. Take wolverines for example: always grouchy. So it was no surprise that Sally was sore and cranky when she woke. She already missed her pillow and blankets. She had been forced to make do with a pile of her extra clothing scattered, and now most of the clothes were covered with grass and dew. The day was already off to a miserable start.

          Dain and Tom fixed everybody a quick breakfast consisting of dried strips of sour meat and a few loaves of hard bread. Sally devoured everything that was passed in her general direction. She never asked what the meat was. It filled her stomach, that was all that mattered. The others also enjoyed their snake meat.

          They set off after breakfast, heading east toward the mountain range barely visible in the distance. The trees and shrubs in this forest were fortunately few and far between, so the lack of a path didn't slow their progress much, and the mossy ground was surprisingly firm beneath their feet. Bird calls and strange hooting howls occasionally drifted out of the woods around them, but they never encountered any other creatures. Perhaps the creatures in Rhyyne were simply shy. Or, slightly more likely, perhaps they were spooked by Yap, who never shut up.

          He had reappeared late last night, slinking into the camp on all fours, his face sheepish. He offered a number of different explanations...he had been scouting the area for danger, he had been chasing the Red Knight, he had been having an elegant tea party with a weregoblin and nineteen dancing monkeys. Most of these tales had ended with Yap defeating evil giants or romancing damsels. Tom had made several remarks about how cowardly it was to run away when your friends were in danger. Yap had agreed, obviously missing the point.

          As for the Dwarf, he was in exceptionally high spirits. Being back in Rhyyne seemed to do wonders for his mood. He eagerly pointed out various aspects of the forest to Sally, acting absurdly proud of even the most trivial details. "See that?" he would ask, pointing with his hatchet. "That's a Wung tree. Named after Sameus Wung. He was a famous explorer, you know. Settled a lot of Dell." Sally would nod politely, but all of the trees and bushes quickly began to look the same, and her head was soon spinning with information.

          Dain walked in the lead, grim and silent. He still appeared miserable over being knocked out during the battle with the Knight, and he would often snap at his companions when they fell behind. Several times he drew his sword and violently attacked tiny saplings or shrubs that were in their way, screaming battle cries at the top of his lungs. Sally always bit her lip and somehow kept from laughing. Being made fun of would only worsen Dain's mood, and it was never a good idea to anger somebody holding a very large sword.

          Since Sally was the only member of the group who would acknowledge Yap's existence, the little gnome dogged her every step, chattering excitedly. Perhaps eager to make up for his cowardice, Yap regaled her with stories of his heroics in the ventilation shaft. Each time he told the story it grew more fantastic and unbelievable. By the thirtieth or fortieth retelling, Yap was not only strangling the entire insect army with his bare hands, but he was also involved in several daring sword fights with the Red Knight, and at one point he had apparently saved them from the Djinns with his magical light spell.

          "Uh-huh. That's great, Yap," Sally muttered. She yawned widely.

          Pleased by her enthusiastic reaction, Yap launched into the story once again. This time it involved a horde of flying goat-elves who shot fire from their noses.

          "That's it! I can't take no more!" Tom finally cried, drawing his hatchet and advancing toward Yap. "Gnome soup for everyone!" Yap screamed and instantly teleported away. Tom sheathed the hatchet, chuckling.

          "That wasn't very nice," Sally said, unsuccessfully trying to hide her smile.

          Tom shrugged. "Listen, Sally, you can't take gnomes too seriously. They really ain't like other creatures, and they definitely ain't like us. Didja know that most gnomes live alone? They can't even stand to be around each other...well, except during mating season. Most of 'em don't have any friends or family, so when anybody shows 'em any kindness at all, they latch onto that person like a blood-slug. You can never get rid of a gnome after you make friends with it. Never. I told that to Elsie, but the girl didn't listen. She's got too big of a heart, I guess. Thought Yap was cute."

          Sally was horrified. "You mean gnomes never have anybody at all? They're always alone?"

          Tom looked uncomfortable. "Listen, it's their own fault! You've seen how bad Yap is, right? Well, there are gnomes a hundred times worse than him. I've seen gnomes that'll climb on your shoulder and scream in your ear when they think you ain't listening to 'em, or gnomes that'll teleport into your bedroom at night and start telling you stories, and when you finally fall asleep they'll bite you awake so you can hear the rest of the story. They're wretched, nasty little creatures."

          "Well, I still feel sorry for them," she said. "How would you like to go through life without ever having friends?" This was something of a sore subject for Sally.

          "That ain't the point!" Tom sighed deeply. "They're lonely because they're annoying. It's their own fault. If I was that annoying...well, I wouldn't expect anyone to hang around me either, right?"

          She didn't know what to say to this, so they marched without speaking for a while. Tom might have been right--after all, Yap could be very obnoxious--but she still felt sorry for the gnome.

          "Where did Yap come from?" she asked eventually. "I mean, where did you meet him?"

          Tom scratched his head. "Hmm...let's see. It wasn't too long after escaping from the castle. We were traveling through Stopstart Marsh...that's north of here, at the bottom of the valley. It was nasty going. Rough terrain, you know, even for a Dwarf. One night Elsie went down to the river to wash up, and I guess she found Yap acting stupid in the water. She thought he was cute...can't imagine why, he looks like a gomslurgle without its shell, but that's just my opinion. Anyway, she started talking to him and the blasted bugger somehow got it stuck in his head that she was his mother. He's been following us ever since."

          Poor Yap. She tried to imagine what it would be like spending your entire life alone in a marsh. She suspected it would be a wretched existence, not to mention rather smelly. "He’s not so bad," she said softly. "At least he tries to do good things. Well, sometimes, anyway. When he's not hiding. Or screaming. Or shrinking stuff. Or breaking things."

          Tom looked at her seriously. "You and the Princess might think he's cute and harmless, Sally, but mark my words: that gnome is trouble. He's loud, he's careless, and he can't be trusted, and that makes him dangerous."

          "Oh," said Sally. She didn't know how to respond.

          They marched on in silence.

          It was almost twenty minutes before Yap reappeared, bounding through the trees above them. "Stupid, fat Dwarf!" he yelled down angrily. "Yap knows that fat Dwarf was lying about making delicious soup out of Yap's sweet, sweet brainmeat! Fat Dwarf is evil for scaring poor, tasty Yap!"

          "Come down here and I'll give you something to be scared about," Tom growled. He idly swung his hatchet back and forth as he spoke.

          Yap refused the challenge, instead following behind them from the safety of the trees, hurling insults (and occasionally fruit) down at Tom. When he was convinced that Tom was truly ignoring him, Yap climbed down and scampered over to Sally's side.

          "As Yap was saying," he continued smoothly, "it was very dangerous for splendid Yap in that weeny shaft. The horrible monkey-giants were trying to squash his brains, and it took all of Yap's cunning and beauty to kill them with vicious bites and flying kicks..."

          "That's nice, Yap." Sally sighed heavily. She still felt sorry for the gnome, but...

          Jeez, she thought, he really can be annoying sometimes.

*        *          *

          They marched past noon, only stopping for bathroom breaks--Sally soon discovered she missed toilet paper even more than pillows--and for lunch, which consisted of four green rabbits Dain had brought down with his crossbow. At first Sally had been horrified by this savagery, declaring that she would never eat the poor, defenseless rabbits. After they had been skinned and roasted, however, she found her appetite had returned with reinforcements. She meekly asked for a tiny serving of meat--just a little bit--and ended up eating an entire rabbit by herself. Tom found this hilarious.

          "Mmm..." he moaned, his eyes rolling with mock-pleasure, "this is the cutest meal I've ever had! Oh, it's wrong to eat rabbits, especially their cute little haunches and their tender little bellies...so cute and delicious..."

          "Stop it!" Sally laughed. "That's awful!"

          Encouraged by this, Tom leaped up and burst into song:

"Oooooooooooooohhhhhhh.....

Rabbits are cute, and rabbits are tender,

And that's why we never have rabbits for dinner!

Their eyes are so shiny, their tails so bushy,

We only eat things that are greasy and gooshy!

Oh, it's wrong to eat rabbits and squirrels and trugs,

We can only eat things that are slimy, like bugs!

Like scorpions and pudgers and fish that are smelly,

And fire-nosed screamers to spice up your belly.

But we must save the rabbits! We must save the birds!

We mustn't eat things that are too cute for words!

So pass me a slice of that dung-beetle-pie,

And rat-cake will be the next thing that I'll try!

Gimme blood-slugs and snot worms, the knife and the butter,

And pass me that maggot that's shaped like a booger.

We can't eat the cute ones, wherever they roam...

But hey, we're all starving, so let's eat the gnome!"

          Tom sat back down, grinning widely. Sally hid her face, her entire body shaking with laughter. Even stone-faced Dain seemed on the verge of cracking a smile. Yap was the only one who didn't appreciate the song, for obvious reasons. The gnome glared at Tom angrily, muttering under his breath. "Yap has a song, too. It's called Stupid fat Dwarf gets hit on the head with a rock until he dies.'"

*        *          *

          When they resumed marching, Sally found herself next to Dain. The warrior seemed uncomfortable by her presence.

          "Is your head okay?" she asked politely.

          "Fine."

          "Oh. Well, that's good."

          "Mmmph."

          They walked in silence for a while. Dain cleared his throat, then abruptly turned to her and said, "I'm sorry if I was rude last night."

          Sally was surprised. "Oh...me, too. I mean, I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled."

          He shook his head. "You're a child. I'm a warrior and a grown man. Losing control of my temper like that was unacceptable." He sighed. "Everything is going wrong. Can I speak frankly with you?"

          "Err...yeah, I guess so."

          "I didn't want to waste time traveling to Earth to save Jonah." He must have noticed Sally's expression at this, because he hurried on before she could interrupt. "I know he’s your friend, but war isn't about friendship...it's about survival. And we are at war, make no mistake about that. This is the darkest age mankind has ever known. If the Sorceress isn't stopped, she will scorch the life from this world, and then she'll turn her attention to other worlds. Unspoiled worlds. Your world, maybe." He shook his head. "That's why wasting time chasing after this boy is not only dangerous, it's incredibly foolish. Every day we waste on Jonah, the power of the Sorceress grows a little stronger. She must be stopped."

          "But how?"

          "We must stop reacting, and we must start acting," Dain said firmly. "At the moment, we are her mercy. Thanks to our journey into your world, the Sorceress now knows not only who we are, but also where we are. We’ve revealed ourselves too early and lost the element of surprise."

          Sally thought this answer seemed a little too vague. "But how would you stop the Sorceress? I mean, if she's so strong, you can't exactly walk up to her and...you know..." She pantomimed a violent stabbing motion.

          Dain hesitated. "The Princess Elsie is...powerful. Much more powerful than she is aware of, and certainly more powerful than she would ever admit. The blood that flows through her veins is descended from the greatest warlocks and witches who have ever lived. If anybody has a hope of defeating the Sorceress, it's her.

          "But now there's no chance of that happening. The Sorceress no doubt has already learned that the Princess still lives. She'll waste no time in sending out forces to destroy us, and you need to understand this...she doesn't just have hundreds of monsters at her disposal. She has hundreds of thousands of monsters...maybe more. When they find us, it won't take long. Our only hope for survival lies in our speed, in our ability to outrun her monsters for as long as possible. And as you can see, our speed isn't particularly impressive."

          "I guess you're referring to me, then?" Tom asked. He had come up behind them silently. His normally sunny face was grim.

          "I am referring to our entire party," Dain said stiffly. "This search for the boy has already cost us many valuable days, and for what? Why are we willing to sacrifice not only our live, but possibly the world itself? Because you do realize that we’re this world's last chance, don't you? If we fall, the hope of this kingdom falls with us. And after Dell falls, the rest of Rhyyne won't be far behind."

          "Yeah, yeah, it's a crying tragedy all right," Tom growled. "What would you prefer? Step back and let the Sorceress have her way? She wants the boy, and I wanna know why. Think she's gonna train him to be a gardener? Maybe teach him to be a nanny, to look after all the little evil witches? Don't be daft. Whatever she wants with Jonah is bound to be nasty, and the world will be better off if it doesn't happen. That's why we're trying to save him."

          "He's got a power," Sally interrupted, surprising even herself. She quickly told them about the electricity that had leaped from Jonah's body in the supermarket. She explained how Jonah couldn't remember using the power, and how Aligore had guessed it was connected to the portals opening between the two worlds. Dain and the Dwarf listened intently. 

          "Hmm. That explains why Cull wants him," Dain said at last.

          "So he's got magic in the blood, eh?" Tom asked. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah. Figured it'd be something like that."

          "Well, I don't know if it's magic," Sally said slowly. "There are no wands or flying broomsticks or anything like that. Plus, Jonah's not very good at it. He...um...he blows things up."

          "Sounds like typical magic to me," the Dwarf said. "Most magic is just a fancy way to blow stuff up."

          "Still, even if the boy does have magical tendencies, that doesn't mean he'll be useful to us," Dain insisted. "What good is a magician who can't control his powers?"

          "He may not be useful to us," Tom said, "but he might be useful to the Sorceress. That right there is reason enough to keep him away from her."

          Sally didn't like this conversation. They were talking about Jonah as if he were a dangerous weapon to be captured and used in their stupid little war. But he wasn't a weapon; he was a human being. Even worse was the fact that all of this talk about Jonah's importance was making her feel even more useless. There's really no reason for me to be here, she thought. I'm like Yap, just tagging along on somebody else's adventure.

          Perhaps sensing her unhappiness, Tom gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Sally. I'm sure Jonah is fine. We'll find him soon enough, and after we get this nasty business with the Sorceress taken care of, we can all slap Yap around to make ourselves feel better! Whaddya say?"

          She gave him a weak smile.

          A piece of fruit suddenly dropped through the air and bounced off Tom's head with a ripe thud. He rubbed his head and glared up at the trees. They could hear Yap chuckling from above.

          "I hate that gnome," Tom announced to nobody in particular.

*        *          *

          They marched for the rest of the day.

          It was bad for everybody, but Tom seemed to have the worst of it. Although the Dwarf was sturdy, his short legs forced him into a brisk jog in order to hold pace with the others, and his face glistened with sweat throughout most of the day. Still, he never complained, and he often broke out with a silly song whenever morale ran low, which was most of the time.

          Dain walked silently and purposefully, his sword always held at the ready.

          Yap followed close behind Sally, telling her long and incredibly boring stories that never seemed to come to any sort of point. He would chatter excitedly about catching a fish for breakfast three years ago, then abruptly segue into a story about a suspicious-looking cloud he had seen the week before. At first these rambling tales were somewhat amusing, but they soon began to grate on Sally's nerves, and eventually she simply tuned him out. Yap didn't seem to mind that nobody was paying attention to him, because he certainly didn't stop talking.

          As for Sally, her legs seemed to grow heavier with every new step, and her rotten backpack was beginning to feel like a boulder slung over her shoulders.

          A world full of magic, she thought bitterly, and nobody thinks to invent some sort of flying carpet? Or at least magic-powered bicycles? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She decided that if she ever got back to Earth, she was never going to walk anywhere again if she could help it.

          They emerged from the forest in the late afternoon and set off across a great rocky plain. Huge stone outcroppings dotted the landscape, blue shadows piercing the horizon. There were no signs of life out here, simply rocks and dust and the howl of the wind. As the sun slowly sank in the sky, Sally began to wonder if they would ever stop marching. They couldn't march throughout the night, could they? She rubbed her aching legs and hoped not.

          "We're approaching a town," Dain said suddenly.

          Sure enough, specks of light hovered in the distance. Sally's heart leaped. A town! With food! And lights! And soft, warm beds! It was almost too much to hope for.

          "Good," Tom said happily. "I could use a bed and a drink, and not necessarily in that order."

          Dain looked uneasy. "I'm not sure about this," he began. "It might not be safe. She has eyes everywhere."

          Sally tried not to let her disappointment show. The lights of the town were so close, so tantalizing. Her stomach awoke and added its two cents with a rumble: Food. Now. Or else.

          Apparently, Tom had similar thoughts. "Bleh. If the Sorceress has got eyes everywhere, then she's got ’em out here with us right now. And if that's the case, we're already screwed. So we might as well get drunk."

          "It's a figure of speech, Tom," Dain said stiffly.

          "It's stupid, that's what it is. Listen, Dain…we'll pop into the inn, grab some food, maybe a few mugs of ale, and we'll be gone by the time morning rolls around. It ain't like we're walking into town blowing trumpets. We'll stay out of sight, keep nice and quiet."

          Tired of being ignored, Yap shrieked at the top of his lungs and began to eat dirt. It didn't help Tom's argument.

          "Yes, please," Sally added. "I'm sure we'd be safe, right?"

          "I suppose..." Dain said reluctantly. "I still think this is a bad idea, but..."

          "That's the spirit!" Tom interrupted. "If someone wants to spot me a few coins, the first round is on me!" Rubbing his hands together eagerly, he set off toward the lights. The others followed. 

*        *          *

          Technically, it was a town, although calling it such would have been more than a little generous. It seemed more like a prototype town that had been attempted and then abandoned halfway through construction when the builders had run out of inspiration or liquor. Ten or so dingy wooden buildings were arranged in a tight circle, leaning wearily against each other for support. Most of the buildings resembled old barns, but if there were any farms out here, their main export would have been dirt. An ancient sign nailed to the front of the largest barn bore the inscription Dog's Ear.

          "Dog's Ear?" Sally read skeptically. "Is that the name of the town?"

          "Suppose so," Tom said

          She frowned. "It's not a very good name."

          "Most names aren't," he said absently, glancing around. "Now...where's the inn? Every place has got an inn...ah, there it is. Come on."

          He led them to a weather-beaten building that had a homey sort of appeal, provided you were a starving termite with low standards. A faded sign hanging from the awning read Dori's Stall. The Stall looked in desperate need of a good cleaning, or perhaps a flash flood. Nevertheless, all the lights were on, and a boisterous song drifted out through the batwing doors. If it hadn't been for the three-headed bird perched on the front porch, the building would have resembled an old saloon in a television Western.

          "Shove off," the bird told them. It stuck out all three of its tongues. Tom swatted the creature aside and ducked beneath the batwing doors. The bird flapped off into the night, screaming insults.

          They were greeted inside by an old woman wearing enormous spectacles. Sally assumed this was Dori. "Ah, more travelers!" the woman said cheerfully. "Quite a busy night we've had! Normally don't get many visitors out here, not many t'all."

          "We would like to reserve two rooms," Dain said.

          "And my belly would like to reserve some ale," Tom added.

          Dori smiled. "Eh, no problem on both counts, young masters. Let's see...two rooms...I'm guessing you'll want 'em side by side...hmm...that'll be twelve frogs."

          Dain gave the woman a sharp look. "High stakes, old-timer. How about one fox and two frogs?"

          Dori grinned again. "Prices are prices, son. These are hard times, so they are, and I can't be as generous as I'd like. If you wish to shop around, the next inn is just forty miles down the road...their rates may be more affordable, so they may. Still, I can see that you're all tired, and I'm not an ogre, after all...how about ten frogs?"

          Dain considered this. "Does that include a meal and ale?"

          Dori looked comically surprised by the question. "You're in Dori's Stall, sir, the finest establishment in these parts! Of course the food and ale are included! Like I said, I'm not an ogre." She cackled laughter.

          Dain nodded. "Deal, then."

          Sally frowned. She was confused by all this talk about frogs and foxes. Dain reached into a leather pouch around his waist and drew out a handful of small coins. Sally leaned forward and saw that tiny gold frogs were inscribed on each coin. "Oh," she murmured.

          "How long will you fine folk be staying?" Dori asked. "A traveling carnival will be passing through Dog's Ear in a few days, and it's sure to be exciting. The great Huk Zumper is even with them! His magic displays are world-renowned, so it's said."

          "We will stay," Yap announced. "Forever!"

          "We’ll be leaving early in the morning," Dain said.

          The innkeeper nodded, clearly unhappy to be losing their business so soon. She took Dain's coins and handed them two large keys. "Rooms are straight up the stairs and to the left, dinner's simmering in the pot, and checkout time is whenever you feel like it. Enjoy your stay in Dog's Ear."

*        *          *

          Sally was pleased to discover that her bed was soft and reasonably clean, although the rest of the tiny bedroom was not so impressive. She and Yap were sharing a room, while Dain and Tom were next door. She could hear their voices through the thin wall, arguing over who would get the bed.

          "I thought Dwarves were perfectly happy sleeping on the ground!" Dain said.

          "Sure, but we're also perfectly happy sleeping on beds, especially when we've had ourselves a bit of ale."

          "But I paid for the room!"

          "Listen, I'll wrestle you for it."

          "Fine."

          There was a loud thumping crash from the next room. Tom groaned. "Cheater."

          "Enjoy the floor, Tom."

          Sally grinned.

          Yap lay on the ground, chewing on his foot and staring at the ceiling. Although he didn't seem as exhausted as everybody else, the gnome had grown much quieter. For this, at least, Sally was thankful.

          "Er...do you want the bed, or can I have it?" she asked.

          "Oh, Sally can have the flouncy bouncy bed," he replied absently.

          She watched the little creature for a moment, then crossed the room and sat down beside him. "Yap, do you...do you have any friends?" She hoped he wouldn't be offended by the question.

          "Friends? Oh yes, Yap has thousands of friends! Yap has Sally, and Mother Elsie, and Jonah, and plump dragon, and Dain, and fat old Dwarf! They are all Yap's friends! Except for fat old Dwarf!" Yap's eyes shone brightly. "Yap loves them all! Except for fat old Dwarf!"

          “I heard that…” Tom grumbled from the next room.

          Sally smiled. She reached out and patted Yap's shoulder. "We like you, too," she said.

          The gnome gave her a blissful smile.

*        *          *

          It might have been the best dinner Sally had ever eaten. She gorged herself on roasted chicken, freshly sliced bread, and pieces of strange green fruit that tasted vaguely like oranges, only greener. She washed all of this down with several large mugs of hot cider that made her throat burn and her belly tingle. There is no meal quite so satisfying as the type that leaves you feeling bloated and queasy, which was how Sally now felt. She stared at the scraps of defeated chicken on her plate and felt a surge of pride. If she hadn't eaten her weight in poultry, it hadn't been for a lack of trying.

          She was alone at the table. Dain had eaten quickly and retired to his room, which she felt was rather anti-social. Yap had grabbed a few handfuls of food and dashed away, perhaps a bit spooked by the trolls. Sally had been a little startled by the creatures herself. The trolls were large, hunchbacked figures with faces that appeared mashed together out of lumps of dirty clay. They sat at a table in the corner, downing large mugs of ale and arguing with each other in a language that seemed to go something like, "Urrum, erray gorrum naw gorney erg umph urrug." Sally tried not to stare.

          The only other guests in the dining hall were a band of Dwarves, all of them squat and packed to the brim with liquid cheer. Tom had joined their table, and their voices now filled the room. The Dwarves apparently shared Tom's love for ale, and they steadily grew louder and sillier, occasionally breaking into random profanity-laced songs. Sally was tempted to join them, but she didn't want to intrude. Instead she stood, cleaned her dishes off the table, and headed toward the stairs.

          And then she stopped.

          There was a figure standing in the doorway. He was a young man in his mid-twenties, his face sharp and serious. Although he looked young, his hair was spiked with streaks of silver. A large broadsword was visible from beneath his flowing black cloak. The man's eyes flickered across the room, coming to rest on Sally. She looked away and hurried toward the stairs. When she glanced back, the man was talking to the innkeeper.

          Yap was already asleep on the floor, mewling softly to himself. Sally slipped into her pajamas and got into bed--and she had been right; it was quite comfortable--but she soon realized sleep was impossible. Although her body was exhausted, her mind was still wide awake. Too many unbelievable things had happened to her, too much excitement. She lay in the darkness for some time, thinking about Jonah and the Sorceress and what the next few days might hold. She wished the other children in the orphanage could see her now...

          She could hear Tom bellowing out a song from the dining room...something about a dirty milkmaid who loved goblins in all the wrong ways, from the sound of it...and she finally decided there was no point staying in bed if she wasn't going to sleep. She changed back into her clothes and headed downstairs.

          The other Dwarves and the band of trolls had disappeared. Tom sat in the corner of the room, talking loudly to the young man Sally had seen earlier. The stranger was laughing. Sally slowly approached the table.

          "Oh, hullo, Sally!" Tom said cheerfully, slurring his words just a little. "Sit down and have a drink!"

          "I'm not old enough to drink," she said, grinning. "But I'll have some more of that cider, if there's any left."

          "Yah, I think so...if them rotten trolls didn't drink it all. Hol' on." Tom stumbled off his stool and headed into the kitchen, leaving Sally alone with the stranger.

          He smiled and extended his hand. "Sally, was it?" he said smoothly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Paldawar." His bright eyes flashed.

          "Hello," she said weakly, slipping into a chair. Tom returned with a steaming mug of cider, which she took gratefully.

          "Your friend has been telling me about some of your adventures," Paldawar said. Sally shot a concerned glance at Tom. What had he been saying? Paldawar noticed her expression and laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not one of the bad guys. I'm a member of the King's Royal Guard. Or at least I was, back when the Guard still existed. Now I'm fighting the good fight alone."

          "Yeah, and he's got some pretty good ideas about kickin' the bejeebers outta that stupid Sorceress," Tom interrupted. "You ever hear of the Rune of Roon, Sally? Wait, never mind...forgot you weren't from around here. Well, anyway, Paldawar says anyone who finds this Rune thingamajig can...err...how's it go again?"

          "The Rune magnifies wishes and desires," Paldawar said softly.

          "And that's a good thing, right?" Sally asked.

          Paldawar smiled without humor. "Perhaps. It depends what you wish for."

          Tom belched loudly. "I wish I had more ale," he muttered. "Bet those trolls finished it all off, the stinkin' buggers..."

          "So where is this Rune?" she asked.

          Paldawar shook his head. "Nobody knows. Oh, there are plenty of ogres and rooks selling phony maps to Roon's Shrine; you can find a map in practically every miserable little town in this kingdom. But it hasn't been found...not yet anyway. The Rune is capable of changing our entire world if the bearer's desire is strong enough. If somebody had found the Rune before now, we'd know about it, mark my words."

          "If it exists," Tom added.

          "It exists," Paldawar said. His voice was confident.

          "And you think you'll be able to find it?"

          Paldawar laughed. "That's exactly what Tom said! But yes, I do think I'll find the Rune. I'm good at finding things that have been lost."

          Sally shrugged. Fair enough. "And what would you do with it?"

          "Change the world, of course." Paldawar smiled, but his eyes flashed with a strange light. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But these are dangerous times, and we should watch our words. The enemy hears whispers in even the most unlikely places these days. Plus, there are trolls in this inn, and I hate trolls. Don't trust the things, not one bit. So let's talk about happier times and places."

          This seemed like a good idea to Sally. The entire conversation had made her nervous. How much had Tom told Paldawar, and how far could the young soldier be trusted? But Paldawar soon launched into a funny story about encountering a band of gypsy gnomes stuck in a pit of tar, and her worries eventually melted away.

          Paldawar was just reaching the end of his story--he was attempting to clean the tar from the shrieking gnomes, who were attempting to bite him--when they heard a sharp intake of breath. Sally turned and found Dain watching them, his face pale. The warrior said nothing.

          "Dain!" Paldawar seemed shocked. After a moment, his face broke into a sunny grin and he leaped from his seat, clasping Dain in a tight embrace. "You old scoundrel, you're alive!" he cried. "I heard you were killed on the Fountain Plains!"

          Dain pulled away from Paldawar. His expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the hostility in his voice. "And I heard you were taken prisoner by the enemy."

          Paldawar's smile faltered. "Well, yes," he said slowly. "Those weren't the most pleasant days I've spent, I can tell you that much."

          "I've never heard of the enemy releasing a prisoner alive," Dain continued. His face grew dark. "At least not without a price. A valuable piece of information might save a prisoner's life." Dain circled Paldawar, eyeing him warily. 

          "What are you suggesting?"

          "The enemy knew the disarming spell to enter the walls of our castle. They used this knowledge to murder the King and Queen. I've often wondered where they learned the spell. Wondered who could have been cowardly enough to exchange the lives of so many innocents for his own?"

          Paldawar's eyes flashed. "I would have sooner died than give away that information, my friend. I lost all of my comrades and closest friends in that siege. All of them! And not a day goes by that I don’t curse the gods for denying me the honor of dying alongside my brothers. Accuse me of their deaths at your peril, Dain."

          "Oh boy," Tom muttered.

          Paldawar took a step forward. His hand hovered near the hilt of his sword. "I was taken prisoner and tortured, true, but I never betrayed the trust of my King. For that matter, Dain, what's your alibi? I heard you were murdered on the Fountain Plains. You seem rather talkative for a dead man."

          Dain stared at him for a long moment, his chest heaving. He drew his sword in a blur of motion and dropped back into a fighting stance. Paldawar did likewise. Sally cried out and leaped from her chair, but Tom was faster. The Dwarf stepped between the two circling warriors, his arms outstretched.

          "Stop it!" he cried. "Stupid as a herd of gumbeasts, the both of you! We've got enough buggers out there who want us dead without you two skewering each other, so put the weapons away! Now!"

          There was an agonizing pause as the two men faced each other. Then Dain sheathed his sword and stepped back. After a moment, Paldawar did the same.

          "You're right, Tom," Dain growled. "I acted rashly and spoke without thinking. You're a brave soldier, Paldawar. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise."

          Paldawar nodded, but his gaze was cold. "As are you. I apologize for both my actions and my words. These are dark times indeed when friends turn upon each other. Come, won't you have a drink with us?"

          Dain shook his head. His expression suggested he would rather swallow his own sword sideways than share ale with Paldawar. "Unfortunately, I must decline. We have many long days ahead of us, and we need our rest. Thank you for your offer, and may fortune smile on your face." Sally blinked. The extreme politeness of the warriors would have been amusing under other circumstances, but at the moment it was merely frightening, like watching two cobras circle each other.

          Paldawar nodded, looking relieved. "And may strong winds always blow at your back. Farewell." He vanished up the stairs without a backwards glance.

          Dain turned to Sally and Tom, his face flushed with rage. "In the future, mind your flapping tongues," he snarled. "You have been conspiring with the enemy."

          "He's a good chap, Dain," Tom said. "You can't go through life suspecting everybody of being a spy. That's no way to live."

          "You don't know Paldawar," Dain said simply. "We have to leave. This town is no longer safe for us."

          "You're being stupid," Tom shot back. Dain recoiled as if he had been slapped, staring at the little Dwarf in amazement. But Tom refused to back down. "You might've been able to scare that kid, but I ain't scared of you, and you ain't my boss. I take my orders from the Princess and nobody else. If you wanna spend the night sleeping on the ground, be my guest. I'll see you tomorrow morning." With that, Tom grabbed his mug from the table, drained its contents in two quick gulps, and stomped off without another word.

          Dain watched him go. His shoulders seemed to sag a bit, and he sighed heavily. He glanced at Sally and she flinched away, afraid of another outburst. But Dain closed his eyes and said nothing. After a moment, Sally slipped past him and followed Tom upstairs, leaving Dain alone in the empty room.

*        *          *

          She lay in the darkness, listening to Dain and Tom argue in the next room. Their voices were heated, but they kept their conversation low enough that she couldn't understand most of the words. They eventually fell silent. Sally stared at the ceiling and felt miserable. It took a long time before she finally fell asleep.

          She was back in the supermarket, being chased by the slug creature again, and wasn't this an unpleasant surprise? Jonah was beside her, his face deathly pale, and Aligore, Tom, and the rest of their party followed behind. They ran past aisles of canned goods and refrigerated treats, the slug's gurgling cries echoing all around them.

          She glanced at Jonah, but he was gone. "We've lost Jonah!" she yelled.

          "No time!" Tom said. "Gotta go faster!"

          But when she looked again, the Princess and Aligore had also vanished. There seemed to be no end to this supermarket. They ran for what seemed like hours, but there were no exit doors, just more empty aisles. Sally paused, panting for breath. She suddenly realized she was alone. Her companions had disappeared.

          "Hello?" she called out. "Tom? Jonah? Anyone?"

          There was a low chuckling noise from behind her, and the slug's hot breath pressed against the base of her neck, wet and stinking. One of its slimy tentacles slid around her waist, spinning her in a circle, pulling her in close...

          Someone cried out in the darkness.

          She woke with a start, trembling. It had been a nightmare, of course. She gave a shuddery sigh of relief. Really, she was far too old for this type of nonsense, she thought crossly. Weren't you supposed to grow out of nightmares?

          Then the cry came again, cracking with pain, and she realized it hadn't been part of the dream after all. The noise had come from Dain and Tom's room.

          "Sluggerflickmonkey!" Yap swore from the floor, half-asleep.

          Sally leaped out of bed. "Come on, Yap!" she ordered. The gnome instantly sprang onto her shoulder and together they hurried into the hallway. Sally flung the neighboring door open and gasped.

          Dain was standing over a shadow on the floor, holding a dagger and breathing heavily. Tom stood beside him, his eyes wide and confused.

          "What...?" Tom began. "But...whu...who...?"

          "It's Paldawar," Dain said quietly. "He attacked me while I slept."

          "Is he...?"

          Dain nodded.

          Tom looked shocked. "I didn't think..." he mumbled weakly. "I mean, I never thought he’d..."

          Dain's face was grim. "I told you the enemy has eyes and ears everywhere. You should have listened." He glanced around, sizing up the situation. "We need to leave immediately. There's no telling if Paldawar was alone. Gather your things."

          "I...I'm sorry, Dain," Tom said. "Sorry I didn't believe you."

          Dain shook his head curtly. "No apologies are necessary. Paldawar was once a great warrior. I never thought he would fall this far."

          "But why was he trying to kill you?" Sally asked.

          Dain stared at the motionless figure on the floor. When he spoke, his voice was distant and sad. "The Royal Guard was once revered throughout the land. We were the great and mighty. Now look at us...bodyguards, bounty hunters and mercenaries. We have fallen."

          Tom looked at Sally helplessly. "You'd better get your stuff," he muttered.

          Sally returned to her room and quickly changed her clothes. Yap bounded back and forth, badly frightened. She packed her bag and they rejoined the others. Dain said nothing, but Tom gave her a reassuring smile.

          They crept away under the cover of night. The inn was silent around them; Paldawar's scream fortunately had not awoken the other guests. They left Dog's Ear and marched in silence for a while.

          "The Princess contacted me again while we were sleeping," Tom said at last. "You know, before it happened." The Dwarf's high spirits from the night before had vanished, and he looked tired and depressed. "We need to be heading more to the north. She said we'll find her and the lizard on the edge of the desert, probably late this afternoon. Of course, she probably didn't count on us getting such an early start."

          "Huh," Dain replied.

          They continued on.

          If marching in the daylight was miserable, marching in the darkness after such a horrible night was ten times worse. Sally stumbled and fell frequently, and the muscles in her legs felt like they were on fire. There was no telling how long they walked, but it seemed like an eternity. Maybe longer.

          She finally found herself marching next to Dain. She screwed up her courage and said, "Could I ask you a question?" She spoke quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the others.

          Dain looked surprised, but he nodded.

          "Last night, those things Paldawar said...about you being...well, dead...what was he talking about?"

          Dain gave her a weak half-smile. "You don't trust me?” Despite his smile, there was pain in his voice.

          "No, it's not that," she said quickly. "I was just curious."

          He sighed. "It's not a pleasant story, especially for a child."

          "I'm not a child," she said flatly. "I can handle it."

          He stared at her intently for a long beat, then shrugged. "Very well. My company was making a routine sweep through the Fountain Plains, some fifty miles north of the Great Castle. Did Tom tell you about the Fountain Plains? Well, they're a wonder to behold...great geysers of steam and water constantly erupting from the ground in every direction. They're also dangerous. It's easy to get lost in the mist, and if you stray off the path, you run the risk of stepping into an exploding geyser and being torn apart or boiled alive."

          "Which would be a bad thing."

          "Um...yes. Anyway, we had received reports of enemy activity in the area, so we made a sweep of the Plains. But at the end of the day, we had found nothing. I ordered my company to set up camp in a large clearing in the middle of the Plains, because I didn't want to risk navigating the geysers in the darkness. It was a terrible mistake." His eyes glowed white in the moonlight, like hollow shells. His voice was flat and dead.

          "What happened?"

          "We were attacked in the night by a horde of banshees. They swept in from above, from the mist. We never saw them coming. They split my company in half before we even knew what was happening." Dain paused and rubbed his forehead absently. "Pray you never hear the cry of a banshee, girl. It is the most terrifying sound in all of existence. It drove grown men mad and caused brave warriors to go dashing through the night like terrified rabbits. One by one, the banshees separated us. They herded my men into the geysers and watched them die."

          "How did you escape?" Sally asked, her eyes wide.

          Dain gave a short, bitter laugh. "I didn't, at least not in a heroic sense. A banshee struck my helmet and I was knocked unconscious. I was covered with the blood of the men who had died beside me, and the banshees assumed I was also dead. I woke buried at the bottom of a funeral pyre. I managed to struggle my way out of the pyre before it was lit, but it was a hellish ordeal, shoving and cutting my way through the bodies of my friends and comrades. But I finally escaped and made my way through the geysers, and the banshees never saw me."

          Sally said nothing.

          Dain looked away. "I was the only survivor. There were no horses left, so it took me many weeks to make my way back to the Great Castle. By the time I arrived, the Castle was already under siege." He shook his head sadly. "Not only did I fail my men, but I also failed my King."

          Sally felt guilty for having brought up the subject. Nice one, she told herself angrily. Maybe next time you can pour some salt on those wounds after you rip them open. But Dain was staring off into the distance glumly, and she had to say something. "It doesn't sound like it was your fault," she offered weakly.

          Dain didn't meet her gaze. "I was their leader, and I abandoned them in their hour of greatest need. My men died and I did not."

          The sun soon rose in the sky, but Sally thought the kingdom of Dell seemed much more grim and dismal than it had the day before. Already she had seen one death in this strange new world, and she had been here for less than twenty-four hours. How many more deaths were waiting down the path?

          Well, probably mine, to start with, she thought. Ten bucks says something eats me before the end of the week.

          She had always been a slightly morbid girl.

CHAPTER TWELVE:

BENEATH THE GLADE

          For one blissful moment, Jonah thought it had all been a dream.

          It hadn't been a good dream, of course. There had been quite a few nasty monsters, and he had basically been reduced to the role of Professional Damsel In Distress, which wasn't very dignified. But it had just been a dream. Nothing more, nothing less.

          It was a nice fantasy while it lasted.

          Finally, when he could put it off no longer, Jonah reached out in the darkness. His hand found a cold rock wall, slippery with moss. He sighed. Nope. It was real.

          Still a damsel.

          He got to his feet and stood there, peering into the darkness. There wasn't much to see. The rocky walls tapered off into the gloom in either direction. He was lost and alone.

          "Hello? Is anybody there?" His voice echoed around him, hollow and muted by the stone. No answer came.

          He was preparing to yell again when a glimmer of light appeared in the distance. A Unicorn stepped into view, and Jonah realized something wonderful…the Unicorn appeared to be about six feet tall rather than six hundred. He glanced down and breathed a sigh of relief. He had returned to his original, non-buggish size.

          The Unicorn padded up to him. It was smiling. We noticed you weren’t your proper size and decided to fix you. I hope you don't mind. Like before, no sound came from the Unicorn's lips; instead a delicate female voice whispered from somewhere inside his head.

          "Thanks," Jonah said awkwardly. He didn't know what else to say.

          The Unicorn nodded briefly. Don't mention it. But what kind of monster would shrink a child? The very idea seemed to offend her.

          "Um...actually, I kinda shrunk myself."

          She blinked. Oh.

          "My name's Jonah," he said, extending his hand. Then he realized that Unicorns weren't built for shaking hands, and he let his arm fall to his side, feeling extremely foolish.

          If the Unicorn noticed his mistake, she was too polite to point it out. She bobbed her head in a graceful arc that might have been a bow. And I am Qurt. Welcome to our home.

          "Where are we?"

          Far beneath the Sacred Glade of the Unicorns, in tunnels that time forgot. Qurt promptly looked embarrassed. That was stupid, wasn't it? I shouldn't have said that last part.

          "No, it was fine," he assured her. "Very dramatic."

          I should have left that bit about tunnels and time off, she said stubbornly.

          Jonah was opening his mouth to respond when the memories hit him. They came one after the next, fierce and fast. It felt like his head was caving in, only worse. He clutched his forehead and fell against the wall, moaning. The Unicorn looked concerned. Oh drat...did I make a mistake with the growing spell? It's so much more complicated with animals than with plants. Is your brain too big, or is it too small? Is that why your head hurts? She hurried forward, eager to help. Sparks flew from her horn.

          He waved her back. He didn't want to find out what would happen if she tried to magically resize his brain. "Not...that..." he managed. "Remembering stuff...too much...hurts..."

          Oh. She nodded. Yes, all your locked memories are probably coming back. Droo thought something like this might happen.

          Jonah said nothing. He simply stood there with his eyes closed, trying desperately not to go insane. After what seemed like an eternity, the memories slowed to a trickle. The throbbing pain in his forehead grew faint and distant. And he remembered everything.

          It was horrible.

          Are you okay? Qurt asked nervously.

          He shook his head. "Freak," he said.

          She looked puzzled. Come again?

          His entire body felt numb. "I'm a freak. A monster."

          She smiled at this. You don't much look like a monster, she told him. And I should know…I've seen enough of them. You don't have enough tentacles, for one thing.

          "It's not funny," Jonah snapped. "I'm a mutant. A freakazoid. I blow stuff up just by touching it. You should start running before I accidentally blow you up, too." He stared at his fingers apprehensively, as if they were loaded guns that might suddenly go off.

          I think I'll take my chances, Qurt said dryly. You may be different, but that doesn't make you dangerous.

          "I'm serious, you should leave me here to die. I'm not safe to be around. That's probably why the Sorceress wants me...so I can blow everybody up for her," he added glumly.

          Qurt's expression grew serious. "The Sorceress? Was she the one who sent the Red Knight after you?"

          He nodded. "And when she finally catches me, she'll probably make me do something horrible and then kill me. And there's nothing anybody can do to stop her." He looked away. He couldn't meet Qurt's gaze. "Now do you see why you should leave me here? I'm not safe to be around, and I don't want anybody to get hurt because of me."

          That's a decision that will be made by my mate. Droo is the leader of our race. He'll know what to do. He always does. The pride in Qurt's voice was unmistakable. Until then, you should just be content and...

          "Content?" Jonah interrupted. He felt his face growing hot. "That's easy for you to say! You don't know what it's like to be...to be...hunted by some crazy lady who wants to use you to hurt people!"

          Qurt hung her head. That is something we Unicorns know all too well, she said softly. Her expression was distant and sad.

          He instantly felt guilty. She had shown him nothing but kindness, and this was how he repaid her? Why couldn't he go a single day without screwing something up? "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Really sorry."

          It's fine.

          "No, it's not. I act like a jerk sometimes. I can't help it. But I didn't know that Unicorns were hunted for...well, for whatever reason."

          She was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was heavy. Many centuries ago, almost on the verge of memory, humans existed in harmony with the Unicorns. They provided us with food, shelter and companionship, and we gave them magic in return. It was a time of peace and happiness for both species. But everything changed when humans learned to use magic themselves. They began to need us less and less, and our two species no longer stood on an equal basis of friendship. We found ourselves treated as pets rather than companions.

          "That's terrible..." Jonah said.

          She nodded. It gets worse. We are close cousins to horses, although they don't share our magical abilities. Horses are noble creatures, but also very dependent. They love to be ridden, to be brushed and fed by humans. More than love, even...they need these things. And although we distanced ourselves from humans, the horses did not. We slowly watched our cousins lose their intelligence, their nobility, and eventually even their voices. Now it's rare to find a horse who still has the gift of speech.

          We naturally didn't want to share the fate of the horses, so we vowed to break off all contact with mankind. But even this didn't work. Humans sought us out, hunted us, and began imprisoning our race. A pet Unicorn became a valuable commodity.

          Jonah was silent. He suddenly felt guilty. He could remember visiting the local carnival and watching the trained horses and ponies. They had always been plodding, sad-looking creatures.

          Our choice became clear, Qurt continued. If humans thought us useful, they would continue to use us. But if they thought us worthless and stupid, we would be ignored and forgotten. And so that’s what we did. Of course, it took a good while before humans began to believe we were genuinely foolish creatures, but it finally came to pass. And it has remained that way ever since. She sighed deeply, and a glimmering tear slipped from one eye and hung suspended on her cheek.

          More guilt. "Don't cry," Jonah said in what he hoped was an encouraging voice. "I'm sure you're safe down here. No humans will find you. Well, except for me, I mean..." 

          She gave him a faint smile. And that's the problem. We miss humans, Jonah, even if most Unicorns will never admit it. The bond of friendship still runs in the blood of men and Unicorns. Being separated miles beneath the dirt and the sun...it's not right. It's not how things were meant to be. But I fear the situation has become hopeless. We have been forgotten. She fell silent and stared off into the darkness.

          Jonah didn't know what to say to this. "But if humans and Unicorns don't talk to each other anymore, why are you talking to me now?" he ventured at last.

          Because you're different.

          There was that word again. "A freak," he muttered.

          Being different doesn't make you a freak, she said sternly. It makes you special. As does the sacrifice of the Phoenixes. And the sound of your soul. All of these things make you unique.

          "The sound of my soul?" he repeated with a frown. "Huh?"

          There are sounds everywhere in the world, said Qurt. From the tallest mountain to the tiniest speck of dust, everything has its own unique sound. You simply must know when and where to listen. Most humans have a faint sound, and in some the sound has disappeared almost completely. But not in you, child. I can hear your soul even from here. It makes a roaring sound.

          Jonah listened carefully for a moment. "I can't hear anything," he admitted miserably.

          She smiled. You will.

*        *          *

          They made their way down a winding passage, guided by the brilliant light that pulsed from Qurt's body in steady waves. Jonah noticed that the Unicorn's hooves never touched the ground; she floated several inches above the stones. This, in his humble opinion, was pretty cool.

          They entered a cavern filled with green trees and brilliant starbursts of flowers. Butterflies danced among the fauna, and as the light grew, bird calls began to echo throughout the trees.

          "How does everything stay alive down here?" he asked. "Don't these trees need sunlight to survive?"

          Unicorn light is a thousand times more healing than the light of Mother Sun, she replied. We are the caretakers of this forest and all its inhabitants.  

          "It's great," Jonah said, and he meant it. The forest looked like a watercolor painting from a fairy-tale book, lush and vibrant with life. If not for the rocky ceiling hanging above them, he would have never guessed they were underground.

          It's no substitute for the outside world, said Qurt, but we make do with what we can.

          Another Unicorn sprang from the underbrush, muscular and powerful where Qurt was sleek and delicate. It was the same creature who had removed the slithering black thing from Jonah's head the night before. The two Unicorns nuzzled each other affectionately for a moment, then the newcomer turned to Jonah. Ho-ho! Back to your normal size, eh? The voice in his mind was booming and jovial. Jonah liked him instantly. 

          "Yes, thank you very much," he said.

          This is Jonah, dear, Qurt said.

          Jonah? Hmm. Suppose that's not too bad, considering most human names. Probably doesn't mean anything, but none of your names ever do. I'm Droo, the resident human-eater. He laughed wildly at this, as if he had just made the best joke ever.

          Qurt gave him an exasperated nudge. Don't listen to him, dear, she told Jonah. He's harmless as a moth and twice as friendly.

          "Your home is awesome," Jonah said to Droo. "Really cool."

          Does that mean good? Droo asked his mate. Qurt nodded patiently, and Droo grinned. Thanks, boy! You're the first human to ever see it! And not to be rude, but we'd like to keep it that way, if you don't mind. If word gets out that we're down here, humans will be dropping by all the time. Heal my baby's cold, give my son some luck powder, make me prettier...all that nonsense again. Now we don't have a problem with most humans, mind you, but some of you...

          He knows about the Sorceress, dear, Qurt said. She's trying to capture him.

          Really? Droo leaned over him, his eyes shining brightly. That must be exciting!

          "I guess so..." he said slowly.

          That's the spirit! Now...back to the business at hand. Some of the others are a little worried that if we let you leave, you'll tell everybody about our little home here. They say human children can't be trusted. Nonsense, I say, but you know how Unicorns can be, right?

          Jonah didn't, but he nodded anyway.

          Droo lowered his voice from a booming roar to a confidential shout. Some of them even want me to perform an erasing charm on your memory before you leave--Jonah's heart sank at this--but I don't want to do that. Seems like enough buggers have been messing with your memories already, right? No need to add to the problem. Besides, I think you can be trusted.  

          "You do? Why?" he asked curiously. He remembered Qurt's terrible story about humans hunting down and capturing Unicorns to keep as pets. Why would Droo risk that fate for a stranger? 

          The large Unicorn grew serious. We were watching the battle between the Phoenixes and those rotten metal beetles. Saw what the Phoenixes did for you. I've known quite a few of those weird birds in my lifetime, and I've never seen them sacrifice themselves for any creature before. Phoenixes have a peculiar way of seeing both the past and the future at the same time, you know. Whatever they saw in your future, it made them decide your life was more important than their own. That right there makes you special.

          There it was again: special. Not just different, but special. Jonah didn't know what to say. He felt strangely humbled and embarrassed at the same time. He really wasn't special, not in the slightest. Well, there was his uncontrollable exploding ability, but that wasn't special. Just scary.

          Had the Phoenixes made a mistake?

          So, Droo continued, against the wishes of the others, I'm going to trust you to guard our secret. Besides, I hate memory charms. Taking away part of a creature's memory also takes away part of the creature. Don't I always say that, dear?

          Over and over, love, she said wryly.

          He let out a ringing laugh. You've gotta watch out for this one! he told Jonah. She hides it well, but she's smarter than both of us put together. And no offense, lad, but she's much prettier, too!

          He laughed again. Qurt turned away, the aura around her face glowing with a soft scarlet light. Jonah had never seen a Unicorn blush before. He was glad it was a memory he would be allowed to keep.

*        *          *

          Droo announced he had other business to attend to and bounded away into the darkness, leaving Jonah with Qurt.

          "I like him," Jonah said.

          She smiled. He has the greatest heart I've ever known. He hides it away, of course, and it rarely surfaces while others are around. Sometimes, though, when he's alone, I catch him crying to the stars.

          "Oh." This seemed like more information than Jonah needed. "Um...why does he cry?"

          This is a dark time for our race, Qurt told him. Our numbers have dwindled to the verge of extinction, our friends and family have been slaughtered before our eyes, and our once proud race has been driven beneath the surface of the world. Droo is our Omniwrurenkel...I suppose you'd call him a King. He blames himself for the plight of the Unicorns.

          "Then why is he letting me go?" Jonah asked, wondering if this was a point he should press. "Wouldn't it be safer if my memory was erased, or if you locked me up or something?"

          Qurt laughed again, but it was tinged with sadness. Of course it would be safer. But Droo's heart is bigger than his body. He would rather risk a hundred lives than damage one. He's also a very good judge of character. Make no mistake, if you had been a thief or murderer who appeared on our shores, my mate would have altered your memory in a flash and sent you on your way. But he sensed something in you, Jonah...something good and decent. And for that, he's willing to trust you.

          It had been building inside Jonah for some time now; he was no longer able to hold it in. "Everyone thinks I'm important," he said with just a trace of bitterness. "Everyone wants to capture me or use me or protect me. But what if I'm not special? What if someone made a big, fat mistake and picked the wrong kid? What's gonna happen when everyone finds out how ordinary I am?"

          Never call yourself ordinary, she said somberly. Our best qualities aren't our similarities to others, but our differences. Trust me...there's no boy out there exactly like you, and that's a good thing. There's also no Unicorn out there exactly like me, and that's also a good thing. Whether your differences will be enough to change the course of history remains to be seen, but never call yourself ordinary. Being ordinary is the worst thing you can ever be.

          Jonah was silent as he tried to digest this. She waited patiently. At last he nodded and said, "Thanks," and she smiled warmly in return.

          They made their way to a small waterfall that ran down the side of the cave and splashed into a dark crystal pool. Jonah drank deeply, amazed at how crisp and delicious the water tasted. Qurt drank beside him. Instead of plunging her nose into the water, however, she simply closed her eyes and pursed her lips. The water beneath her bubbled and a tiny blue corkscrew of water spiraled through the air and into her mouth. Jonah watched her, feeling a little jealous. His method of drinking suddenly felt very boring.

          "Do you have anything to eat?" he asked. The question seemed impolite, but he couldn't ignore his grumbling stomach any longer.

          Whoops. Sorry, dear, I forgot that you humans need to eat every day. Let's see...what are your favorite foods?

          "Well, I doubt you have any of them down here..." he began, thinking of pizzas and cheeseburgers and hot fudge sundaes. But Qurt placed the tip of her horn on his shoulder and something peculiar began to happen…he could taste the foods he had been thinking about. He chewed imaginary slices of thick, gooey cheese pizza, feeling the food slide down his throat and into his belly. When he thought about cheeseburgers, he found himself swallowing the best burger of his life, covered with mayonnaise and lettuce and great dripping globs of ketchup. The imaginary ice cream sundae was sweet and delicious, complete with a cherry on top. Best of all, after he had finished eating--if you could call that eating--Jonah discovered he was no longer hungry. 

          When he told this to Qurt, she laughed merrily. Of course you're full! I make the best imaginary food you'll find in these parts!

          "But won't I be hungry again soon? I mean, I didn't really eat anything, did I?"

          Didn't eat anything? Nonsense. Just because your mind knows the difference doesn't mean your body does as well. As far as your stomach is concerned, you just finished a three-course meal. We Unicorns have eaten nothing but imaginary food for centuries now, and we're certainly no worse for the experience.

          It must be nice to be such a good cook, a mournful voice said from the shadows. For the first time Jonah noticed a fat little Unicorn sitting by the water's edge. Unlike the other Unicorns he had seen, this one had droopy, baggy skin that hung from its body in loops and folds. The creature looked like it had been assembled using parts left over from other, better Unicorns. It stared at them glumly. Every time I try to make imaginary food, I end up choking myself. Goose dung pie, salty monkey brains, stuff like that. Absolutely wretched. Makes me want to keel over dead. I never do, though. Which, to be perfectly honest, is unfortunate. The sad Unicorn let out an exaggerated sigh and looked away.

          Be quiet, Vork. Qurt sounded annoyed.

          The Unicorn named Vork let out a wet, sniffling sneeze, then lumbered away into the forest. Hope one of these trees falls on me and crushes my skull, he was mumbling as he left.

          "What's wrong with him?" Jonah asked.

          She sighed. Vork is...well, he's a little suicidal, I guess. A little unstable. He likes to headbutt things.

          "Oh," Jonah said. There didn't seem to be anything else to say.

           She nodded. Yeah.

          After Jonah had finished his imaginary meal, they made their way into another section of the underground forest. Trees and shrubs rustled softly, then respectfully drew back as the Unicorn approached. Branches were lifted over their heads and tangled roots were withdrawn from their path. Once they had passed, the vegetation would creep back into place behind them, swallowing their tracks. Watching the forest twist and shift around them made Jonah feel slightly queasy. Without Qurt he would have become hopelessly lost in a matter of minutes.

          But Qurt seemed to instinctively know her way through the forest. She led him over rolling hills and through glades that shone with fresh dew. She would often stop to nuzzle the branches of a nearby tree, or to whisper softly into the bud of a sleeping flower. Every time she spoke to a plant it seemed to brighten and stretch, as if her very presence made it stronger.

          "What are you saying to them?" he asked curiously at one point.

          I ask them about their day. How they are feeling. If they are happy.

          "And do they...um...tell you?"

          Of course. They are my friends.

          "Huh." Jonah thought this was a little weird.

          Why is it weird?

          He jumped slightly. "Did you just read my mind?"

          Qurt looked embarrassed. Oh dear...didn't you say that out loud?

          He shook his head.

          I'm sorry. I don't do it on purpose. Sometimes Unicorns pick up thoughts and ideas from other creatures who are nearby. It just happens.

          An idea struck him. "If you can read my mind, maybe you can find out if there's anything else hidden in there! Like why I have these powers, or why the Sorceress wants to capture me?" It was a long shot, but still...

          Qurt looked uncomfortable. I don't think that's a good idea. Picking up the occasional thought is one thing, digging through a living creature's mind for information is a different matter altogether. It's too dangerous. I'm sorry.

          "That's okay," he mumbled, unable to conceal his disappointment.

          She gave him an encouraging smile. If there are more things in your mind waiting to be discovered, you should be the one to discover them. Things that are meant to be will happen on their own. Just be patient.       

          Jonah sighed. "Being patient sucks," he said.

          She nodded. Sometimes.

*        *          *

          They spent the rest of the day exploring the twisting underground forests that arched out in every direction. Just when Jonah thought he had seen it all, Qurt would lead him through a narrow tunnel and they would emerge into another massive cavern filled with life. She told him stories as they walked...legends, myths and history. He learned about the Unicorns' exodus beneath the ground, about the creation of their new home, and finally how they had watched most of the surface world crumble and burn before the armies of the Sorceress. Qurt refused to let Jonah tell his story in return, however, saying it was not yet time.          

          Just when his eyelids were beginning to grow heavy, he was finally led into a massive cavern filled with hundreds of Unicorns, their horns blazing like torches. Their heads all swiveled in his direction as he entered the room, and a ripple of strange voices danced through the corners of his mind. Jonah froze, feeling panic rise in his chest. What was going on?

          Droo approached him, smiling warmly. Settle down, Jonah. Nothing to fear here.

          Jonah glanced around nervously. "Are they here because of me?" he squeaked.

          Of course.

          This was bad. Was it possible to throw up imaginary food? Because at the moment, that seemed like the only sensible course of action. "I'm not good at public speaking," he insisted desperately.

          That's fine. You won't be speaking.

          "Huh?"

          Droo grinned. Follow me.

          He led Jonah to a slab of smooth marble in the middle of the cavern and indicated that he should sit. Now we're ready to hear your story, lad, he said, loudly enough for the other Unicorns to hear. Every creature in the cavern fell silent, and Droo nodded at him. When he spoke again, the voice in Jonah's mind was low and encouraging. Trust me, you'll be fine. There's no need to say anything at all. Just think your story. Start at the beginning and think it through. Think about what happened, what you saw and heard, and how it all felt. Can you do that?

          "No," he said miserably. He couldn't do it, not with everybody watching. He was too scared to think straight. He would screw something up. He always screwed something up.

          But Droo said nothing. The large Unicorn merely waited. There was a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

          Jonah sighed. He had no choice. So he closed his eyes tightly and reached back to the beginning of his tale. He remembered everything.

          Using his powers for the first time. Meeting Tom and Yap in the strange dream world. The slug monster in the supermarket. Yap's shrinking powder and the ruined kitchen. Finding Aligore on the roof. Being captured by Ms. Crew. Shrinking himself. The insects in the tunnel. The Red Knight. The terrifying battle between the scarabs and Phoenixes. Falling. The Bicker. The river. The Unicorns. Everything.

          There was no telling how long he sat there, lost in thought. The Unicorns listened to his memories...first with amusement, then with growing disbelief, and finally with something approaching outright horror. At last he opened his eyes and looked around. Hundreds of bright eyes were watching him intently.

          Droo rose and stepped forward. I told you he was special, he announced. There was a consenting murmur from all sides, and Jonah realized the other Unicorns were staring at him with expressions close to awe. He felt embarrassed. He had never been the center of attention before. He discovered that he didn't like it one bit.

          Droo paced in a slow circle around him. Many of you questioned my decision to invite this boy into our home, to allow him to roam free and unguarded. Others were angered that he would be allowed to leave without his memory altered. Do any of you still doubt his character? If so, speak now.

          The cavern was silent.

          Droo nodded. I'm going to be leaving you for a while, he said. There was a sudden commotion. Several Unicorns leaped forward, crying out in protest. Droo silenced them with a curt shake of his head. I will return, he told them. But I believe this boy's life is too important to simply trust to chance. If the Phoenixes would die to keep him out of the hands of the Sorceress, we can do no less. He must be kept safe.

          Jonah could hardly believe what he was hearing. It seemed too good to be true.

          Droo paused beside Qurt and touched her shoulder gently. I will return, my love, he whispered. She nodded. Tears stood out in her eyes, but she smiled proudly. She touched her horn against Droo's, and a single spark flared in the darkness. Droo continued walking.

          Jonah and I will leave tomorrow morning. My mate Qurt will lead you in my absence. Again, if any of you object to this plan, now is the time to make your voice heard.

          The cavern remained hushed. Many of the Unicorns were nodding. Everywhere Jonah looked he saw excited faces. After centuries of hiding underground, the Unicorns were preparing to return to the world of man. Something's happening here tonight, Jonah thought. Something big and important.

          As if he had heard Jonah's thoughts--and perhaps he had--Droo turned and winked at him. Is this plan also acceptable to you?

          He nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly.

          You're gonna love this part, Droo whispered back. He flashed Jonah a quick grin, then turned to the others and let out a hearty cry. Tonight is a night of celebration! Jonah will be the first human in many centuries to see our Firelight Dance, so let's put on a good one! Ho!

          Every horn in the cavern suddenly flared white-hot, and in the next moment the Unicorns had risen off the ground in unison. They hovered in the air above Jonah. Soft music filled the cavern, sad and beautiful, although Jonah was never able to pinpoint its source. It seemed to be coming from the Unicorns themselves.

          Still moving in perfect unison, the Unicorns began to fly.

          Some moved in tight, zigzagging patterns, others darted in and out of the group in loopy circles, and still others held a straight course. The light from their bodies trailed behind them, but as their speed increased, their forms began to blur into their streaking aura trails, and it quickly became impossible to guess where one Unicorn ended and the next began. They moved faster and faster in time with the music, and soon they were spinning and swirling so rapidly that their individual bodies were no longer visible. Blazing comets tore through the cavern in breathtaking harmony. Some of them shot down low across the ground, buzzing directly above him in a shower of screaming sparks, while others were simply streaking trails of gold high above his head, etching bright patterns in the void.

          It was the single best moment of his entire life.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

THE DARK SHADOW

          The directions Elsie had given Tom proved accurate, and they reached the edge of the desert after yet another long day of marching. Aligore and the Princess were waiting for them beneath a large tree. 

          "Hullo, you big, smelly lizard!" Tom cried, throwing his arms around Aligore's neck. Aligore looked embarrassed, but a faint smile spread across his face.

          Yap bounded into Elsie's arms, squealing happily. Elsie hugged the gnome, then looked at the others. "Everybody okay?"

          Sally shrugged. She was quickly learning that okay was a relative term. "I guess so. But there was trouble last night."

          Elsie listened as they recounted the story of Paldawar's treacherous attack. "That's awful," she said at last. "I remember Paldawar. He seemed...nice. Do you think he was following your trail? Or was meeting him just bad luck?"

          Tom shook his head. "No way of knowing. So where's Jonah?"

          Elsie motioned toward a splash of green that rested on the horizon. "We think he's still in the Unicorn Glade. They won't let us enter, though. I'm not sure how we'll get him out of there..."

          Tom shrugged. He didn't seem particularly concerned by this problem. "Well, then I suppose we should have some dinner. I'll get some rabbits. Or maybe just the first stupid critter I run across," he added, throwing a meaningful glance at Yap.

          "Maybe we should eat fat Dwarf," Yap muttered. "Food for years."

          "Yap, could you gather some firewood?" Elsie asked sweetly.

          "That's a stupid job," Yap complained.

          "It's the most important job of all," she told him seriously.

          Yap puffed out his chest and threw her a salute. "Yap won't let you down!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Elsie watched him scamper off into the woods, hooting wildly. She turned back to Sally. "Thanks for taking care of him."

          Sally nodded. "No problem."

          Elsie offered her some water from the flask around her waist. Sally took the water gratefully. "What do you think of our world so far?" the Princess asked.

          "It's...different," Sally admitted. "Not in a bad way, but just...different. Little weird things you barely notice, like the way things smell and taste here. Just a little bit off."           Elsie smiled, but her expression was sad. "I wish you could have seen Rhyyne before. Back before the Sorceress came, when my parents were still alive. Everything was better. More beautiful...safer...happier. It seems like there were more colors, too..." She sighed, and for a moment she looked far older than her years. "Now everything has gone bad."

          "Do you think you'll be able to change it back?"

          Elsie chewed on her lower lip, her expression unreadable. "No," she finally admitted. "I don't think this world is ever going be the same again. It's gone too far to change. But that doesn't mean we won't try."

          "Oh," Sally said. Then she frowned. "How?"

          Elsie looked away. "Beats me..." she muttered.

*        *          *

          Jonah? Can you hear me?

          He was sitting in the middle of a clearing, surrounded on all sides by emerald trees. A faint wind ruffled his hair, and he could hear the distant sound of birdcalls. He groaned. He was sick of waking up in strange places. Why couldn't he ever wake up in an amusement park or a candy store? Why was it always another stupid forest?

          "Hello?" he called. "Anybody here?"

          A young girl stepped out of the woods. She had flowing blonde hair and bright eyes. She was also very beautiful, although this wasn't the sort of thing Jonah normally noticed. The girl smiled cheerfully when she saw him. "Oh, there you are! We've been looking everywhere for you. I'm Elsie." She stuck out her hand.

          "Yeep," Jonah said. It wasn't what he had planned to say, but it was all that came out. His voice had gone on siesta. He shook her hand weakly and concentrated on blushing.

          She grinned. "I guess that means you're Jonah, huh?"

          "Yeeee."

          She sized him up critically. "You don't look shrunk anymore," she finally said.

          This wasn't the compliment he had been hoping for. He made a shameful little squeaking noise and shook his head.

          "Well, that's good, I suppose." She looked skeptical.

          He nodded lamely.

          "Anyway, you were tough to find. You've got a tricky signature. I've never felt anything like it."

          Jonah cleared his throat and willed himself to speak a coherent word: "Signature?" His voice was still squeaky, but at least it was working again. 

          Elsie plopped down on the grass beside him and sprawled out in an unprincesslike  fashion. "Sure, signature. That's what I call it. The stuff that makes you unique."

          Jonah nodded, as if this made perfect sense. Then he shook his head. "Confused," he said.

          She looked annoyed. "Yeah, I figured that much. Okay...so I can enter other people's dreams, right? Nobody knows why; it's just a bit of magic I was born with. Scared the heck out of my mom the first time I came barging into one of her dreams, I'll tell you that much. But before I can enter a dream, I have to find that person first. Everybody's got his or her own signature, so it's just a matter of finding the right one. Anyway, we used a finding stone to figure out where you were, then I poked around until I found your signature." She beamed at him. "I'm getting really good at it. Found you on another world."

          "Good job," he said. He suddenly felt rather inadequate.

          "So anyway…this is my dream," she said, absently motioning to the surrounding trees. "I used to go into other people's dreams, you know, but then I ran into a few nightmares. You can't imagine some of the stuff people dream up at night. It's sick. So now I just pull other people into my own dreams. It's safer that way."

          "Is that what you did with Yap and Tom?" Jonah guessed. "Back on Earth?"

          "Yeah. I had to send Yap because he...well, he kinda ate the finding stone. And he really wanted to meet you for some reason. And I sent Tom because I figured he'd be less intimidating than Dain."

          "Why didn't you come, too?"

          She grinned again. "You're a teenage boy. Or close to being one, anyway. And as far as you knew, I was a figment of your imagination. I didn't think walking into one of your dreams would be such a hot idea."

          Jonah had no idea what to say to this, so he simply turned red and began to mumble gibberish. It seemed like the safest course of action.

          "Anyway, we'd better not waste any more time," Elsie said, expertly changing the subject. "These dream meetings aren't very stable, and they can dissolve pretty quickly. But the good news is that we're all together again--oh, and Sally's here, too--and we're waiting right outside the Glade."

          Jonah's heart leaped. The thought of being lost and alone in Rhyyne for the rest of his life had crossed his mind more than once. Learning that his friends hadn't abandoned him was the best news he had heard in a while.

          "But the Unicorns won't let us come into the forest to find you," she continued. "So you'll have to come out and meet us."

          "Where?"

          "Well, there's a desert all around the Unicorn Glade, right? But on one side there's a big pile of rocks, all lumped together. Can you meet us there?"

          He nodded. "Thanks," he said. "Seriously."

          She smiled again, and Jonah felt dizzy.

          "Just remember..." she began.

          Then everything vanished.

*        *          *

          Wake up. Hurry.

          Droo prodded Jonah again, and he stumbled to his feet, wiping sleep from his eyes. They were alone for the moment, but the echoes of worried whispers drifted from further down the corridor. The other Unicorns sounded frightened.

          "What's wrong?"

          Droo looked grim. We're about to be attacked. They're on their way.

          "Wait...what? Who's attacking?" Jonah felt panic clawing at his chest. Not now. Not when he was so close to rejoining his friends...

          Banshees.

          "And those are bad things, right?"

          Some of the worst things. We have to leave. Gather your things and follow me. It might already be too late.

          "But one of my friends just contacted me. They're waiting right outside the Glade and..."

          They'll have to take their chances. There's not time to save everybody.

          "Save...?" Jonah repeated. The idea that Elsie and the others were in danger hadn't crossed his mind, but now he realized the truth. They were sitting ducks out there. "Hey! We can't just leave them!"

          Droo's expression was stony. Jonah, the banshees are only moments away. This isn't a friendly visit. They're coming to slaughter every last one of us. Your friends are probably safer than we are at the moment. Now follow me.

          He fumbled in the darkness for his clothes, and then ran after the Unicorn. Once again, his life had gone horribly wrong. He thought of Elsie and the others camped outside the Glade and felt sick to his stomach. Please be okay, he thought desperately. Please, please be okay.

          A faint, high-pitched whining noise grew steadily in the distance. It sounded cold.

*        *          *

          Several miles away, Elsie was also awake. Jonah had been yanked away from their dream meeting, and this worried her. She stood and walked to the edge of the clearing. She felt nervous. Something was happening, and it was probably nothing good. These days, it never was.

          There was a noise, a whisper on the horizon...

          "SOMETHING THE MATTER, PRINCESS?" Aligore's glowing eyes padded through the darkness toward her. She marveled once again at how quiet the dragon could be sometimes.

          "Why aren't you asleep?"

          "I'LL SLEEP WHEN IT'S SAFE. IS SOMETHING WRONG?"

          She shrugged. "I dunno. I was talking to Jonah in a dream, but he disappeared all of the sudden. And he didn't fade away, either...it was more of a poof thingy." She made a poofing gesture with her hands to illustrate her point.

          Aligore looked thoughtful. "I SEE. DO YOU THINK HE'S IN DANGER?"

          "Who knows? I mean, it's Jonah. So yeah, he's probably in trouble. But I think..." She broke off suddenly. Aligore cocked his head and turned to face the desert. In the distance, the low humming noise had become a shrill wail. It grew louder by the moment.

          "What...what is that?" She took an involuntary step back and clapped her hands over her ears. Although the noise was still faint, it made cold fingers crawl along her spine. She shivered.

          Aligore's eyes widened. "NO..."

          "What? What's going on?"

          "WAKE THE OTHERS," he ordered. "THE BANSHEES ARE COMING!"

          But waking the others proved unnecessary. The wailing quickly became loud enough to stir even the deepest sleeper. Tom sprang to his feet, clutching his hatchet and blinking in sleepy confusion. Sally joined them a second later. Yap dashed in circles around the clearing, squeaking excitedly, although this was normal Yap behavior.

          Dain remained crouched on the ground. He looked frozen in place.

          "Izzat...?" Tom began.

          Elsie nodded. "Banshees. They're over the Glade now. They must be after Jonah."

          Tom broke into a feeble smile that didn't fool anyone. "Right," he said. "Suppose we'd better go thump 'em, eh?" He swallowed hard.

          Elsie patted Dain's shoulder reassuringly. "Guard the camp. And keep an eye on Yap, will you?"

          Although his expression suggested he would like nothing better, Dain shook his head and slowly got to his feet. "Afraid that's impossible, Princess. I'm coming with you."

          "No, you're not," she said firmly. "I don't blame you for feeling the way you do, but it makes you a liability. You're staying behind."

          "No," he mumbled.

          Elsie straightened up, her eyes blazing. Her voice had become something low and hard. "You swore an oath of loyalty to me, Dain. Do not break it now. I order you to remain here!" Dain's face flushed, but she turned away before he could protest. She glanced at Sally and her expression softened a bit. "Do you want to come with us?"

          It was a good question. And the answer, of course, was no. The wailing in the distance made Sally's blood run cold...it was like a million fingernails scraping down a thousand chalkboards, only a hundred times worse. But she nodded anyway. "Jonah's my friend. I want to help."

          "Then take this and be careful." Elsie drew a small ruby-handled dagger from her cloak and passed it to Sally. It was surprisingly heavy. Sally hefted it and took a few practice swings, jabbing the air. My first knife, she thought with a sort of totally inappropriate pride.

          "PUT MUD IN YOUR EARS," Aligore barked. "ALL OF YOU."

          Tom emptied his water flask over a patch of dirt and stirred the mixture with his boot. Sally frowned as she watched him. "Mud?" she repeated. "Like real mud?" This seemed like a bad idea. In her opinion, mud had precious few uses, and none of them involved her ears.

          "Listen to banshees too long and you'll go crazy," Tom said matter-of-factly. He was applying generous dollops of mud inside and all around his large ears.

          "Oh," Sally said, feeling stupid. She scooped up a fistful of goop and had soon plugged her ears as well as she could. The mud was slimy and surprisingly cold, but it did the job. The banshees seemed distant and less awful than before.

          Once everybody was properly mudded, Elsie nodded and motioned toward the desert. Sally gave Dain and Yap a feeble wave as they left. Dain didn't return the gesture. He looked angry and miserable. The gnome was merely eating mud with a sort of furious diligence.

          They left the safety of the forest and Sally gasped. Several miles across the desert, bright plumes of fire were licking at the night sky. The Unicorn Glade had become a raging inferno. Silhouetted against the blaze, hunched shadows dipped and zoomed through the air. Banshees. Sally wondered what they would look like from up close. She hoped she wouldn't find out.

          With a bellow of rage, Aligore bounded off across the plain, his tail whipping back and forth. Tom threw a nervous glance at the girls. Ghostly crimson shadows danced across his face. He mouthed something that might have been, We're all gonna die, then he grinned and ran after the dragon. Sally and the Princess followed.

*        *          *

          It was too much. The screams of the banshees had grown louder and more piercing, and Jonah couldn't take it anymore. The sound was inside his head. It felt like mice were chewing on his brain. Maybe there really were mice in his head. He needed to get them out somehow, but it seemed hopeless. The mice didn't want to leave. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He simply crouched in the shadows, clutching his ears and moaning rude things about mice.

          Droo came trotting back to him. The Unicorn looked concerned. Whoops. Forgot about that, lad, he said. Banshees affect humans differently. Makes your kind go a little crazy, or so I've heard.

          "Mice mouse head bite micing mouse mouse," Jonah argued persuasively. "Bite bite bite bite." Then he grabbed his (mice) forehead and screamed. His (mouse) brains were falling apart.

          Here, this ought to help. Droo touched his glowing (mouse) horn to Jonah's (mousy) forehead and all (mouse) sounds were instantly blotted out. Silence thundered down around Jonah like a herd of stampeding mice...

          Mice? What? That was stupid...there were no mice here. Jonah blinked, trying to clear his mind. Why had he been thinking about mice? And what had just happened? "Wha...what did you just do?" he asked slowly. And here was a new problem, because he could no longer hear his own voice. He had gone completely deaf.

          It's a silence charm. It'll hopefully block out those damned banshees for a few hours, Droo said. Jonah was relieved to discover he could still hear the Unicorn's voice inside his head. Don't worry, your hearing will come back when the charm wears off.

          "But why are those things attacking?" he asked. "I thought your magic would keep anything evil out of the Glade, right? Right?"

          Wrong. Our magic is designed to keep single intruders away. The barrier won't hold against a full assault. They're tearing their way inside.

          Jonah felt sick. "This is bad, huh?"

          Sure looks that way, lad. We need to hurry. Not much time left.

          Jonah followed Droo down a series of narrow corridors. He could barely keep pace with the Unicorn, and he tripped and stumbled often. Yesterday these tunnels and caverns had seemed wonderful, but now the walls felt stifling and oppressive. It felt like a deathtrap.

          At last they reached the large amphitheater Jonah had visited the night before. The other Unicorns were already present. They stood in tight circles, snorting and whispering nervously. Everywhere Jonah looked he saw frightened faces. The other creatures fell silent as their leader made his way to the center of the room. 

          Droo closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought, then he turned to face the others. Our worst fears have come to pass, he announced solemnly. Our home has been discovered and invaded. The creatures outside are banshees, demons of fire and flesh. They will show you no mercy or compassion. They are here for one reason alone, and that is the destruction of everything we hold dear. He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was thunderous. THAT WILL NOT COME TO PASS!

          The other Unicorns cheered. The walls of the cavern gave a sudden shudder, making several creatures jump. Flecks of dirt and debris rained down around them. Droo remained unfazed.

          We must not be defeated, he continued. We must not let them have the boy. But above all else, we must not lose hope. The fate of our world hangs in the balance tonight. A stand must be made!

          A stand must be made! the other Unicorns echoed. Their fear seemed to have melted away during his speech, replaced by a sort of eager anticipation. Their horns burned white-hot, brilliant in the darkness.

          Whatever happens to our race tonight, the boy must be saved, Droo said. Jonah felt a pang of guilt at this--he wasn't worth saving, not really--but he stared at the ground and said nothing. If Droo noticed his discomfort, he ignored it. My mate Qurt will lead you in my place, the Unicorn told the group. Show her the same devotion you would have given me.

          Qurt came forward, her expression dazed. She closed her eyes and rested her head against Droo's powerful neck. Sparks flew between their horns. Come back safely, my love, she whispered. Jonah saw she was crying, and he looked away. 

          You're my morning star, Droo said. I will never abandon you, in this world or the next.

          I know, she said simply. She turned and rejoined the rest of the Unicorns.

          The cavern walls gave another tremendous shudder and Jonah was thrown to the ground. He glanced around nervously. The cavern seemed ready to collapse at any moment.

          Jonah and I will follow the path of the river, Droo said. I only ask that you give us enough time to make our escape. I'll rejoin you at our second home, deep in the White.

          But Droo, one of the Unicorn's blurted miserably, why must you go?

          Silence! Qurt cried. If there is a Unicorn faster and stronger than my mate, let him come forward! The other Unicorns said nothing, and she nodded curtly.

          Droo rose into the air. Make me proud, my friends, he said to the assembly. His horn flashed and Jonah found himself floating in mid-air. He was levitated across the room and deposited onto Droo's broad back.  

          Hold on tight, Droo murmured. We'll be going fast.

          They set off, the entire tribe flying through the air as one. They darted through the tunnels with breathtaking speed, dipping and diving in unison. Jonah held on for dear life as the wind whipped through his hair and the walls of the cavern became a dark blur around him. It felt as if he had been strapped to a bullet and blasted from the barrel of a gun.

          The Unicorns came to an abrupt stop. Jonah was flung forward, and only a handful of Droo's hair kept him from plunging into the abyss waiting below. Droo winced and muttered, Watch the hair, kid. His horn flashed and Jonah found himself on the Unicorn's back once more. He mumbled an apology, but Droo ignored him. He was staring forward into the darkness.

          One of the Unicorns whinnied in fear. Jonah saw several of the creatures pawing at the air and shaking their heads. The tunnel trembled around them. 

          "What's wrong?" he asked.

          They're here, Droo said flatly. There was no hope in his voice.

*        *          *

          The Unicorn Glade was gone.

          In its place stood a gaping crater. Trees, rocks and soil had all been uprooted, and flickering tongues of flame dotted the landscape. A blanket of acidic steam rose from the smoldering hole. Sally stared at the carnage, trying to understand what had happened. It looked like a meteor had struck the ground. Had the banshees melted their way underground? Could they do that? A chorus of evil shrieks echoed from the hole, distant and distorted by the mud in her ears, and she shuddered. If the monsters were powerful enough to turn an entire forest into a steaming crater in a matter of seconds, what would they do to a dragon, a Dwarf, and two scared girls? Her hunting knife seemed painfully inadequate. She needed a machine gun or something.

          "Looks pretty bad," Tom muttered beside her. He kicked a rock into the hole and watched it disappear into the darkness. "Reckon we oughtta go down?" he asked the Princess.

          She frowned and pointed to her ears, the universal gesture for I can't hear you because my ears are packed with mud.

          Tom sighed and pointed to the crater, then pantomimed climbing down. He cocked an eyebrow.

          Elsie shook her head. She pantomimed being eaten by a monster.    

          Tom looked frustrated, but he nodded and stepped back.

          Elsie led them away from the mouth of the crater. "We can't go down there!" she cried, shouting loudly enough to be heard through the mud.

          Aligore shook his head furiously. "THAT'S NOT ACCEPTABLE, YOUR HIGHNESS!" he boomed. "JONAH'S DOWN THERE! HE NEEDS HELP!"

          "And how are we going to do that?" she shot back. "How are we going to climb a hundred feet down a rock wall that's too hot to touch? And how are we supposed to stand against two thousand banshees? With a few knives and hatchets? I want to help Jonah, too, but I will not lead us on a suicide mission."

          "AS YOU WISH," the dragon rumbled.

          When Tom spoke again, his voice was low and frightened. "Did you see it?" he asked Elsie. "In the middle of all the banshees?"

          She looked away. When she turned back, her eyes were shining with tears. "Yeah. I saw it."

          "We can't fight that thing," Tom said. "We wouldn't have a chance."

          "I know," she said quietly.

          "Huh?" Sally said, feeling rather lost by this conversation. "What are you talking about?"

          Tom and Elsie exchanged a miserable glance and said nothing.

          "Well?" Sally pressed. "What's going on?"

          Aligore cleared his throat. "THE BLACK CLOUD THAT FOLLOWED THE BANSHEES INTO THE HOLE...IT IS CALLED THE DARK SHADOW."

          "And it's bad?" she guessed.

          Aligore nodded. "LIKE THE RED KNIGHT, IT IS ONE OF THE THREE, THE TRIAD OF THE SORCERESS. IT IS UNSTOPPABLE."

          "Oh," Sally said weakly. Bad suddenly didn't seem like a strong enough adjective.

          Elsie's entire body was shaking, and the blood had drained from her face. "Are...are you okay?" Sally asked, touching her shoulder.

          The Princess jerked away from her touch. "No. I'm not." She stared at Elsie with eyes that were cold and dead. "The Dark Shadow killed my mother."

*        *          *

          The ceiling exploded in a blinding ball of fire. The wave of heat that washed over them was fierce enough to singe Jonah's eyebrows and crack his lips in a heartbeat. The air was instantly filled with smoke and dust, and shards of debris rained down around them. A large slab of rock disengaged from the wall and plummeted down, taking two Unicorns with it. The creatures screamed in Jonah's mind. Then he found himself screaming too, because dark shapes came swarming through the flaming hole. 

          Banshees.

          From a distance they resembled human females cloaked in burning rags. When they swooped closer, however, Jonah felt the wheels and gears in his mind grinding loose. Even without their chittering shrieks and laughter, looking at these creatures for too long would surely drive a person mad. They were simply wrong...horribly, hellishly wrong. Their beady yellow eyes were buried in folds of jaundiced skin that swam and bubbled from the heat. Their mouths hung from their faces like trails of melted wax, crocodile jaws large enough to swallow his entire head in a single bite. Each finger ended in a curved talon the size of a hacksaw.

          The nearest Unicorns disappeared inside the swarm of flaming creatures, their lights winking out one after the next. Jonah heard each of them die in his mind. It was a terrible sensation, like have pieces of himself scraped away.

          Fire! Droo shouted. 

          The remaining Unicorns attacked, launching streams of golden light from their horns. Droo fired a particularly intense blast at the nearest banshee, which exploded in a shower of sparks. To me! he cried. To me! He turned and wheeled away, dropping down through a narrow gorge that snaked deeper into the darkness. The other Unicorns were hot on his heels, their hooves thundering through the air. The banshees swarmed after them. Jonah risked a glance back and saw thousands of flashing teeth and claws swimming in a sea of fire.

          Droo abruptly ducked into a small vertical shaft and the Unicorns dove through the darkness. Jonah wrapped his arms around Droo's neck and desperately tried to hold on. The walls were mere inches away in any direction. Behind him two Unicorns collided with each other before slamming against the stones. There was a flash of light and their screams were cut off as their bodies tumbled away into the pit. The other Unicorns darted around the still forms and continued their headfirst plunge. A moment later the banshees reached the falling bodies, which were swallowed into the boiling mass of fire.

          Faster! Droo cried to the others. Faster!

          The bottom of the pit suddenly appeared out of the gloom, rushing toward them, and Jonah screamed. There was no time to dodge. But Droo's agility surprised him once again as the Unicorn pulled smoothly out of the dive. The pressure was incredible, and dark spots swam in front of Jonah's eyes. He fought to remain conscious. If he blacked out now, he was as good as dead. Then Droo and the Unicorns were off again, racing down yet another twisting corridor. Several of the banshees behind them were not so nimble, smashing against the stone floor like falling bombs.

          Good, Jonah thought. Hope that hurt.

          And still Droo went faster. The banshees and the rest of the Unicorns soon disappeared behind them, unable to match Droo's amazing speed. The wind ripped tears from Jonah's eyes, and he lost all sense of direction. One moment they were racing straight up a vertical corridor, the next Droo was sweeping above a lake of fire, completely inverted, before plunging back down into another headlong dive. It was like riding a roller coaster in the dark, only without seatbelts or a track. 

          No! Droo suddenly shouted. He slammed to a halt in mid-air, and the Unicorn's telekinesis was the only thing that kept Jonah in place. He collapsed against the Unicorn's back, feeling his stomach bob and rise. Don't puke on the Unicorn, he thought stupidly. He wouldn't like that. Something was obviously wrong, but what was it? The cavern was dark and silent around them; he couldn't see anything at all.

          Then the cold came creeping out of the darkness. It bit into his skin like a thousand tiny needles, sucked the air from his lungs and froze the tears on his cheeks. His breath misted, then stopped as his lungs closed protectively. Every muscle in his body suddenly cramped, and a handful of Droo's hair was the only thing that kept him from falling. If he had breath, he would have screamed. He had never felt anything so cold, never dreamed that cold like this could even exist.

          It came out of the darkness slowly, its hunger tempered by caution, a rolling bank of black smoke. But as it drew near, he saw that the vapor was actually solid, simmering and bubbling like melted tar. It slunk toward them, and with it came another blast of ferociously cold air.

          The Dark Shadow, Droo said. He sounded stunned. I didn't think...It can't be...

          It was almost upon them now. The cold was overpowering, overwhelming. Jonah felt the Unicorn's mane slipping from his grasp. The world went gray around him, and sunspots danced across his vision. He was blacking out.

          Droo shot forward, holding Jonah in place with his telekinesis, moving down an adjacent corridor at full speed. Jonah's lungs opened again and he gasped. Each breath seemed more painful than the last. He glanced back and saw that the Dark Shadow was right behind them, matching their pace effortlessly.

          It's gaining, he realized. As fast as Droo is, I think this thing is even faster.

          The Unicorn heard his thoughts and nodded. Yes, it's faster. And we're heading toward a dead-end. We've got to turn around. Hold on...dunno if this'll work.

          Jonah felt the telekinesis on his shoulders, mashing him down against the Unicorn's back. At the same time, Droo flipped in mid-air, his hooves suddenly aimed at the ceiling. Jonah's stomach dropped into the back of his throat and remained there, searching for an exit. The Shadow was upon them in an instant, cold and furious, but Droo roared and lunged forward. Jonah felt icy fingers clawing at his back, pulling him away, but then they had broken free and were blasting back down the tunnel.

          The Shadow let out a bubbling shriek of rage. It came after them, huge and dark and terrible with hunger. Jonah closed his eyes and waited for the end.

*        *          *

          They reached the forest just in time.

          The wail of the banshees had been growing in intensity for some time. The creatures were returning. The strange shrieking sounds quickly grew unbearable even through the protective layers of mud. Sally stumbled across the desert, her hands clapped over her ears. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, although she couldn't remember crying. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She could only run. Elsie was right behind her. Tom had collapsed several moments ago, but Aligore had grabbed him by the shirt and was now bounding on ahead, holding the motionless Dwarf in his mouth. The dragon reached the forest and dove into the underbrush. Elsie and Sally joined him a moment later. They huddled together in the shadows, dazed and frightened.

          The ground shook beneath them.

          Sally put her head between her knees and sobbed. Help run hurt run go help, she thought. Her brain was a tornado of random words and images. Go help hurt kill run hide kill help help help.

          The wailing seemed to affect Aligore the least, perhaps because he wasn’t human. His eyes widened, and he motioned toward the Glade. "LOOK."

          A streaking comet of light emerged from the crater, some five hundred yards away. It blazed and crackled with a white-hot intensity. Somehow the sight of the comet was reassuring...it somehow seemed good, and Sally’s mind cleared a bit. A moment later she realized why. She could see pounding hooves and golden horns flashing in the light, strong legs and broad backs. They were Unicorns, racing in unison through the sky. Sally's breath caught in her throat. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

          "Is Jonah with them?" Elsie cried. "Can you see him?"

          Aligore had the sharpest eyes of the group. His brow furrowed as he stared at the retreating Unicorns. Sally saw his expression fall. "NO," he said heavily. "HE'S NOT THERE."

          There was no time to mourn the loss. Tom grabbed the girls and shoved them to the ground. "Get down!" he snapped at Aligore. "Can't you hear 'em?"

          Aligore ducked just in time. The banshees exploded from the crater in a swirling, barking mob. If the Unicorns had made Sally's heart soar, these creatures snatched the heart from her chest, beat it with a hammer, and shoved it into a freezer. She stared at the swooping, screaming monsters and felt reality slipping away from her. This wasn't really happening, she decided. The banshees weren't real. She could walk out of the forest right now and they wouldn't even notice her. Of course they wouldn't. She was perfectly safe. She slowly got to her feet and started forward.

          Aligore was on top of her in an instant. "OH NO YOU DON'T," he whispered. "THAT'S WHAT THEY WANT."

          The cloud of banshees tore through the air in a tight circle, then whirled away and gave chase to the departing Unicorns. They blurred and vanished into the first rays of the rising sun. Their flaming contrails broke apart and drifted to the ground as sparkling embers. Their screams grew faint and faded.

          Aligore gave a shuddery sigh of relief and released Sally. She got to her feet slowly, stunned by how close she had come to giving away their position. What had she been thinking? And the answer, of course, was nothing. Nothing at all. 

          "I hate those things," Tom muttered, still lying face down in the grass.

          Aligore turned to the Princess. "I DIDN'T SEE THE DARK SHADOW THIS TIME. DO YOU THINK IT'S DEAD?"

          She gave a humorless laugh. "Not a chance."

          "What about Jonah?" Sally asked. "Where is he?"

          Nobody answered.

*        *          *

          They raced along above the shimmering black water. In the tangle of twisting tunnels, Droo had somehow managed to find the river again. The Dark Shadow loomed behind them. No matter how fast Droo flew, the Shadow always matched pace. And it was slowly closing the distance between them...already it seemed closer than it had five minutes ago. How long had they been running? Jonah had no idea. It seemed like hours. His fingers had gone numb from clutching the Unicorn's mane, and his teeth chattered from the cold. 

          Jonah. Droo's voice was exhausted. Drops of golden sweat stood out against the Unicorn's heaving flanks. Dunno...how much longer...I can continue.

          This wasn't what Jonah wanted to hear. He opened his mouth, but the wind sucked his words away before he could speak them. So instead he thought, hoping Droo could still hear him: Don't give up. Oh please, don't give up.

          This is a race...we won't win, Droo replied. Didn't expect...the Dark Shadow...it'll never slow down. Never get tired. I will. Am. Can't hold this pace...much longer.

          Jonah closed his eyes and said nothing.

          Don't give up yet, Droo gasped. It's faster...but we'll see...who knows more magic.

          With stomach-churning speed, Droo banked to the left, narrowly avoiding a gigantic stalactite hanging in their path. Jonah looked back and saw the Shadow effortlessly plow through the stalactite, sending it crashing into the river in a spray of rubble and foam.

          When we reach the end...of this cave...I'm putting you in the water, Droo continued. Can you swim?

          Yeah, but...

          Droo didn't let him finish. While I'm fighting...you have to escape. It's fast...but stupid. Get out of sight and hide...it won't be able...to find you.

          But what about you? Jonah thought desperately. It sounded as if Droo was suggesting suicide.

          The Unicorn gave a weak chuckle. Don't count me out yet...still got a few tricks left...in my old bones. The Unicorn took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. Whatever happens, this isn't your fault. Remember that, lad. This is my choice.

          Jonah's insides felt like they were tearing apart. His stomach was a hot ball of pain. What could he say at a time like this? How could he thank him for what he was about to do? He couldn't. It was impossible. There were a hundred things he wanted to tell Droo, but there was no time left. So instead he simply wrapped his arms around the Unicorn's neck. "I don't want you to die," he whispered.

          A tiny glimmer of light grew in the distance. The end of the tunnel.

          Droo took another gasping breath. When he spoke, there was a terrible finality in his voice. We all have a purpose in life. A destiny. My destiny was to save your life. Your destiny is still in the future, but it's getting closer. Save this land, boy. Save us all.

          No. No, don't do this... Jonah leaned forward and buried his face in the Unicorn's whipping mane. He closed his eyes and tried to save this moment, tried to make it last forever. Tried to remember.

          The end of the tunnel loomed before them. The Dark Shadow darted in closer, hissing. It sounded hungry. Pinpricks of cold air stung Jonah's back.

          And if you ever see my mate again, Droo added softly, tell her I have always loved her, and that I will always love her. Tell her I'm not gone, not in any of the ways that truly matter.

          They burst out of the tunnel. The Dark Shadow recoiled as it touched the first rays of the morning sun. It roared angrily. Droo surged ahead, then he rolled to one side, blocking Jonah from the Shadow's view. It was now or never.

          Jonah fell.

          He hit the water hard and the air was driven from his lungs. He spun in a quick circle, trapped in the current. Which way was up? He couldn't tell. There was a sudden blast of light and he clawed his way in that direction.  

          The sky was bathed in a calm golden light. Droo was silhouetted in the center of the glow, beams of energy pulsing from his body. The Dark Shadow closed in around the Unicorn, dwarfing him easily. Sections of the Shadow seemed to be unraveling, and black tendrils of smog trailed away into the water. Droo drove his horn forward into the Shadow and it reared back, howling.

          Jonah's heart swelled with hope. Do it, Droo! he thought desperately. Kill it!

          Threads of black murk shot out of the water and encircled Droo, biting into the Unicorn's skin. The Shadow surged forward, but again Droo plunged his horn into the swirling black skin. The Shadow screamed. Jonah felt like applauding.

          There was a loud crunching noise.

          Droo slowly turned his head and met Jonah's gaze. His eyes were dazed and filled with pain. Blood ran from the golden splinters protruding from the Unicorn's forehead. His horn was gone.

          Go! he managed to croak.

          His light faded and all that was left was dark.

          The river carried Jonah around a bend and he saw no more. With a choked sob, he turned and began to swim.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

JIMJIM

          Aligore stared into the pit. He was shaking with rage. "IF I HAD MY WINGS, I WOULD HAVE TORN THEM IN HALF," he declared bitterly. "EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM."

          Sally dug another clump of mud from her ear and tossed it aside. "Maybe Jonah is still okay...I mean, he was shrunk, right? Maybe that's why we didn't see him."

          Elsie shook her head. "No, he was back to his normal size again," she said softly. "He told me so in my dream."

          Sally fought to keep her last shred of hope. "But didn't the Sorceress want him alive? Why would she let her monsters kill him?"

          Elsie shrugged helplessly.

          Tom stared out across the wrecked Glade. "What a waste," he murmured. "All those trees...all those lives...it all means nothing to her."

          "WE'LL GET HER," Aligore said. "WE'LL MAKE HER PAY."

          "How?" Tom snapped angrily. "We don't have an army. We don't have a plan. All we had was that boy, and now he's gone, too. It's hopeless." He spat into the crater and turned away.

          Aligore looked at the Princess. "TELL US WHAT TO DO." His tone was pleading.

          "I don't know!" Elsie cried, her voice breaking. "I don't have a plan, or any sort of strategy, or anything at all!"

          Aligore looked startled. "BUT...YOUR MAJESTY..."

          "And quit calling me that!" she stormed. "I'm the Princess of a kingdom that doesn't even exist anymore, which makes me absolutely nothing! I'm just a kid! Not a ruler. Not a leader. Not anything at all."

          "YOU'RE THE ONLY LEADER WE HAVE." Aligore's eyes flashed, and his voice was stern. "SO START ACTING LIKE ONE."

          "But I don't want to be a Princess!" she protested. "It's not fair! The only reason I'm the leader is because my father was the King!"

          "WHICH IS ALSO THE ONLY REASON YOUR FATHER WAS A LEADER," he reminded her. "BECAUSE HIS FATHER WAS THE KING. BECAUSE SOMEBODY HAS TO LEAD."

          Elsie took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. "You're right. I've disgraced the name of my father."

          "NO..." he began.

          She ignored him, dropping to one knee and bowing her head. "I beg your forgiveness," she said quietly. "All of you."

          "Princess, don't..." Tom said. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

          "Beg forgiveness," she repeated firmly.

          Aligore and Tom exchanged a helpless glance. Tom motioned for her to stand. "Fine, fine, apology accepted. Now quit bowing. You're weirding me out." 

          She stood and stared at them. Her eyes shone with a strange light, both terrifying and exhilarating. "We're not beaten. Not by a longshot. Pack camp, guys. We're leaving."

*        *          *

          "Wake up, boyee."

          That didn't sound like a good idea. Not in the slightest. Sleep was better. Nothing hurt when he was asleep.

          "Wake up!"

          Coarse hands shook him roughly. Jonah opened his eyes and saw a strange face peering down at him...mournful and drooping in a way that reminded him of a bloodhound. Moist eyes squinted out from beneath folds of wrinkles, and strands of dirty hair hung across the man's brow.

          "You need to git up, boyee!" he insisted, giving him another shake. He seemed to enjoy shaking things.

          Jonah sat up, blinking. He was crouched in a tangle of shrubs and brambles. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was pulling himself from the river and dashing into the forest. How long had he stumbled and clawed his way through the underbrush, lost in a terrified panic? Judging by his aching muscles and the cuts and scratches on his arms, it hadn't been a pleasant time. He was thankful he couldn't remember much of it.

          "Saw dem banshees," the man said. He spoke with a strange, croaking accent, perhaps a cross between Cajun French and a badly-trained parrot. His eyes rolled wildly in his head as he spoke, as if he was trying to look in all directions at once and failing miserably.

          "Are they gone?"

          "Yeah, dey gone. For now, 't least. But dey might come back. Gotta go." The man set off through the forest, moving quickly despite his spindly legs. He was extremely tall, but he couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds beneath all the dirt, a shambling scarecrow of drooping skin and rags.

          Jonah limped after him. "Hey, where am I? And who are you?"

          "Name's Jimjim." The man glanced around nervously, as if this were confidential information that shouldn't be overheard. "An' you in de woods. Wit me. Dat's all. Now 'urry up."

          "Where are we going?"

          "'Urry!"

          "What?"

          "Urry!"

          "Oh. Hurry. Got it."

          The man glared at him and increased his speed. Jonah was forced to jog to match his pace. He stared at the woods around him and wondered where he was. And where had the other Unicorns gone?

          ....No. He wouldn't think about them. He couldn't. Remembering Droo's sacrifice only made him feel even more miserable and guilty.

          He jogged after the man for what seemed like hours, but at last his aching legs gave out and he tumbled to the ground. Every muscle in his body had gone on strike for better working conditions. He lay in the dirt, his chest heaving, thinking dark thoughts about brain embolisms and circulatory failure. "Can't...keep...running," he panted. "Too...tired..."

          Jimjim came scrambling back toward him. "Dis not a safe place!" he hissed. "Not a good place t’all. Oughtta keep goin'."

          "I can't," Jonah snapped. "I'm too tired."

          Jimjim frowned at this. Finally he gave a theatrical sigh and plopped down onto the grass. He pulled off his boots and began to massage his toes, which were very long and very dirty. "So who are you, den?" he asked at last.

          "My name's Jonah."

          "Huh." Jimjim pulled something green from between his toes and flicked it away before continuing. "Saw dem banshees and dat...dat utter t'ing. Dey was after you, yah?"

          Jonah nodded.

          He moaned unhappily. "Dey work for de Sorceress, Jimjim knows dat. No good, nossir. Why she wanchu, boyee?"

          "I don't know," Jonah answered truthfully.

          Jimjim's tongue darted out and he licked the tip of his nose thoughtfully. He sat back against a tree, tapping his index fingers together and humming under his breath. "Jimjim oughtta leave you here, go on 'bout my bizness. Don' need to get messed up in dis."

          "Please don't do that," Jonah begged. "I'm lost. I...I guess I need help."

          Jimjim studied him for a moment longer. "Yah, guess you look like you do," he said. "Don' you got no friends, boyee?"

          "I've got friends somewhere, but I don't know where they are." I don't even know if they're still alive, he added silently. He thought of Droo disappearing inside the Dark Shadow, of the pain and hopelessness he had seen in the Unicorn's face. He felt sick. What if the Shadow hadn't just killed Droo? What if it had killed everybody?

          Jimjim stood and stretched, his joints popping loudly. "Jimjim take you as far as de other side of de mountains. Dere's a town dere--Reddock, dey call it--but you never find your way through de mountains wit no guide. Folks get lost up dere. Get lost an' die. Jimjim knows de way, though. He take you."

          Jonah breathed a sigh of relief. He still wasn't convinced that Jimjim was on the level, but at least he was no longer lost, and that was a plus in his book. At the moment, it was the only plus. "Thanks. You probably just saved my life."

          Jimjim coughed and looked away. "All rested up, den?" he said gruffly. "Long way to go b'fore we stop. Better git walking."

*        *          *

          They stopped for camp several hours later. Jonah promptly collapsed and lay panting in the dirt. He had never felt so tired in his life. Jimjim paced around the clearing, his nostrils flickering. He seemed to be smelling for danger. This was fairly weird, Jonah decided, but he was getting used to weirdness. So his guide was rather doggish...he could deal with that.

          "Seems okey-dokey," Jimjim said at last. "Don' smell dem."

          "Who?"

          He ignored the question. "Gonna fish now, git some dinner. You like fish, boyee?"

          "Jonah. And yeah, I like fish just fine."

          Jimjim nodded, as if this was a sensible answer. He rummaged in his cloth bag and removed a small wooden tube. Jonah watched the man lope off in the direction of the river, then he leaned against a tree and shut his eyes. It was hard to decide which hurt worse, his feet or his legs. I can't believe some people jog for fun, he thought. Buncha morons.

          He was too hungry to sleep, and he soon grew bored of waiting for Jimjim to return. Eventually he wandered down to the river, where he found Jimjim standing knee-deep in the water. The man remained perfectly still, peering into the rushing water. He suddenly flicked his wrist and a slender metal spike flew from the wooden tube he was holding. The spike narrowly missed a passing fish, which darted away in a flurry of bubbles. Jimjim cursed loudly and began to wind a level on the bottom of the tube, reeling the spike back in. It was like the world's smallest harpoon gun, Jonah decided. He was impressed. This was definitely cooler than any type of fishing he had seen before.

          "Any luck?" he asked brightly.

          Jimjim grunted.

          "Err...guess not."

          "What you want, boyee?"

          "Just watching. Is that some sort of harpoon?"

          Jimjim grunted again. "Don' know no 'arpoon. Dis is my whickerstick."

          "Whickerstick, huh?" Jonah couldn't think of anything else to say.

          Jimjim fished in silence for several minutes, blatantly ignoring Jonah's existence. He eventually managed to spear several fish, dragging the thrashing creatures out of the water with a deft jerk on the line. Jonah was envious. He wanted a whickerstick. 

          A soft mewling came from the river. A rat-like creature drifted by, similar to the one Jonah had seen before entering the Unicorn Glade. These rat-creatures were apparently not the greatest swimmers. The creature let out a pitiful whine and began gurgling.

          "Hey! That thing...it's drowning! Can you grab it?"

          Jimjim had taken a few careful steps back and was now standing on the shore. He raised an eyebrow. "You crazy, boyee? Dat's a wetdoggle. Don' you know dat?"

          "But it's drowning!" said Jonah.

          "It's a wetdoggle," he repeated stubbornly. He stared at Jonah for a moment. Finally he shook his head and plucked a stone from the ground. And before Jonah could stop him, Jimjim drew back his arm and flung the stone at the tiny creature's forehead.

          The result was instantaneous. With a roar, the rat-creature reared out of the water. Jonah's mouth dropped open. The creature's furry hide tapered away into a thick, scale-encrusted tentacle. The half-rat waved around wildly on the tip of the tentacle, shrieking and gibbering angrily. He couldn't see what the tentacle was attached to, and for that he was grateful. Rhyyne had already given him more than enough nightmare material.

          "Dat's a wetdoggle, boyee," Jimjim explained. "De rat splashes an' splashes, but when somebody try to help it or eat it, de wetdoggle,"--he slapped his palms together for emphasis--"he has himself some fine lunch." Jimjim chuckled. He seemed to find human-eating ratmonsters humorous.

          Jonah didn't.

          The wetdoggle sank back into the water. The half-rat stared at them balefully as it continued down the stream, still squeaking curses. Jonah remembered the wetdoggle he had seen the day before and shuddered. He had been dangerously close to becoming a snack.  

          Jimjim chuckled again. "Boyee want to help de wetdoggle. Craziest t'ing I ever heard, dat's for sure." He turned back to the river, and his whickerstick flashed again in the fading light.

          Jonah felt very lost and very alone.

*        *          *

          For most people, waking up in a strange place is a frightening experience that tends to make a person wonder what he drank the night before, and why had he drank so much of it? For Jonah, it was becoming a nightly occurrence. 

          This time he was lying in the center of a large hall. White pillars towered above him, and marble guards lined the aisle, stone spears held at the ready. It looked like a castle, or at least one of the fake castles he had seen on television programs. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, but there were no footprints to be seen. Wherever he was, it was not a busy place.

          He got to his feet and looked around. "Princess, are you there?" he called. His voice echoed in the distance. There was no answer, so he tried again. "Tom? Yap? Hello? Anyone?"

          Silence.

          Well, he hadn't summoned himself to this place, so he obviously wasn't alone. But he didn't feel like poking through a dark and creepy castle in the middle of the night, so he paced in the center of the hall, humming under his breath. Let them find him. He could wait. 

          Eventually he heard the soft clack of footsteps. He held his breath and listened. The footsteps stopped. Jonah squinted. Was there a figure standing on the other side of the room, watching him from the shadows? The hair on the back of his neck rose. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

          "I can see you," he bluffed. "What do you want?"

          The darkness shifted and solidified. "Hello, Jonah." The voice was cracked and ancient. Jonah frowned. He didn't know any old men, and he liked it that way. Old people always seemed to have hairy ears, which Jonah found endlessly creepy.  

          "Who are you?"

          "The time isn't right for us to meet yet. I'm sorry." The figure took a step forward and now Jonah could make out a faint outline set against the shadows. He relaxed slightly. The speaker didn't seem dangerous, which was a nice change of pace.

          "So you brought me to a dream meeting, but you don't want to meet me?" Jonah shook his head. "One of us is really confused."

          The shadowy figure laughed. "Good point. I simply wanted to see you with my own eyes. I've been waiting for you for a very long time." The voice started to speak further, but then it broke off, as if the speaker was searching for the right words.

          Jonah raised an eyebrow and waited.

          "I'm sorry." The voice was choked with an emotion he couldn't quite identify. "I'm better at seeing things than doing things these days, and I have information you need to know. You...and your friends."

          "My friends? What's wrong with them?"

          "Their lives hang in the balance," the voice said. "They rest on the blade of a knife. There is a traitor in their camp, sleeping right beside them at this very moment."

          He felt sick. "Who?"

          The voice told him.

          His head spun. It didn't make sense. It couldn't be true. Could it? The shadow watched him patiently, waiting. At last Jonah looked up. "Why?" he asked simply.

          "The why isn't important. Making excuses for evil does not justify evil. Right now your job is to warn the Princess. After that you will have another task to perform, and it will not be easy."

          More good news. "What now?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

          "You're in grave danger," the voice said. "The man you are traveling with is Jimjim the Grim, one of the most notorious criminals in all of Dell. He is a murderer, a thief, and a bounty hunter for the Sorceress. He is taking you to a town called Reddock, where he will personally hand you over to the Red Knight. Even now he is in council with the Knight."

          Jonah laughed bitterly. It was all so ridiculous. He was unable to go a single day without getting threatened or kidnapped by something evil. Some hero he was turning out to be. He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. "One break," he whispered. "Just give me one break."

          "I'm sorry to give you such terrible news during our first meeting, but it's imperative that you act quickly," said the man. "You must warn your friends, and you must escape while Jimjim still sleeps. You must. If you are brought to the Sorceress, I cannot protect you."

          Jonah started toward the shadow. He was tired of vague riddles and promises. It was his life in danger. He was the one lost and alone in a strange world. He deserved to know the truth. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And why are you helping me?"

          The shadow took a step backwards, deeper into the darkness. "Please be careful," he said. "You have no idea how important you are." The shadow shimmered and blurred.

          Jonah broke into a run. "Wait! What’s your name? And what's going on here?" he cried. He reached the corner of the hall and plunged his arm into the darkness, searching for the man who had been standing there seconds earlier. It was no use. The man had vanished. Jonah swore. He was alone again.

          His stomach suddenly lurched. The floor beneath him bobbed like the deck of a rolling ship, and he steadied himself against the nearest marble pillar. There was a blurping noise and his hands disappeared inside the pillar. Before he could even react, the pillar fractured and fell apart in splinters of stone and light. There was a tearing noise and the floor also dropped away beneath him. His stomach let out another nauseous lurch, but he didn't fall. He stood there in the nothingness, watching as the remnants of the marble hall fell away into the darkness below. This is what happens to dreams after someone wakes up, he realized. They fall apart.

          Was this still the stranger's dream, or had it now become his own? He didn't know. All of this metaphysical nonsense made his head hurt. He was tempted to lay back and just drift through the darkness, to enjoy a night of dreamless sleep for once. But of course, he couldn't do that. His friends were as good as dead if he didn't warn them. And then he would need to deal with Jimjim, which promised to be an unpleasant situation.

          But how could he warn Elsie? She had always contacted him, not the other way around. He didn't even know where to begin. It was hopeless.

          "Elsie!" he screamed. "Hey, Elsie! Can you hear me?"

          There was no response.

          He remembered the Unicorns, the way they communicated through telepathy. He had been able to speak with Droo and Qurt without saying a word. Maybe it worked the same in dreams?

          Elsie! he thought desperately. Elsie, are you there?

          Nothing.

          He closed his eyes and concentrated.

*        *          *

          And suddenly she was someplace else.

          Elsie frowned. "Where'd my horse go?" she said slowly. The thoroughbred she had been riding had vanished, along with all the trees and even the ground beneath their feet. All that remained was darkness. Where was she?

          Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she whirled around.

          "Hiya." Jonah grinned at her.

          She gave a delighted squeal and surprised them both by throwing her arms around him in a quick, fierce hug. When she pulled away, Jonah's face looked just as red as her face felt. "Sorry," she said. "We thought you were...you know...urrk!" She pantomimed slitting her throat, the universal symbol for Dead Meat.

          "No, I'm fine," he said. "Well, kinda, anyway. Are you all okay?"

          "Sure." She glanced at the nothingness surrounding them. "Where are we? This isn't my dream."

          He beamed and gave her what was perhaps the least humble shrug in the history of shrugging. "No, it’s mine. I called for you, and you showed up."

          "Oh," she said. For some reason, this depressed her. Summoning dreamers was her trick. He had stolen her trick. "So tell me where you are and we'll find you," she said curtly.

          "I'm somewhere in the woods with a guy named Jimjim the Grim..." he began.

          She made a strangled squeaking noise. "What? Jimjim the Grim? Jonah, he's a bad guy! I've heard his name before...he works for the Sorceress!"

          "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said impatiently. "He wants to take me to a place called Reddock where he can hand me over to the Red Knight, but I'll be long gone before he ever wakes up."

          "Okay, listen..."

          "No, you need to listen to me." Jonah spoke quickly but firmly. "You're in danger. All of you."

          She looked puzzled. "Huh?"

          wake

          He took a deep breath. "There's a traitor in your group. A spy for the Sorceress."

          up

          She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. One of her friends...a traitor? She somehow sat down in mid-air, a feat even more difficult than it sounds. A traitor, she thought. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. 

          you   

          He knelt beside her. "You need to listen, Princess. You've gotta stop..."

          filthy

          Jonah frowned. He opened his mouth, moved his lips. Nothing came out.

          lil

          Elsie stared at him, frightened. "What's wrong?"

          bugger!

          He turned to her, his eyes frantic. He was motioning desperately with his hands.

          wake up now!

          Jonah vanished.

*        *          *

          Rough hands shook him awake. Jonah struggled briefly, and one of the hands withdrew. The next moment a fist slammed into his chin and his world exploded in a starburst of pain. Something in Jonah's jaw made a weak popping noise, and he fought for consciousness. A familiar face loomed in the darkness above him.

          "'Ere's a hint, boyee. When you go plannin' against ol' Jimjim in your dreams, don' talk in your sleep!"

          Jimjim gave him a wicked, toothless grin.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

WILLOUGHBY AND WINTHROPE

          Elsie sat alone in the darkness for a long time, feeling worried and scared and more than a little sick to her stomach. Everything was going wrong again. Jonah was still in danger, and now there was a traitor in their group. A traitor. She couldn’t believe it.

          And it's all my fault, she realized. I'm the one who assembled this group and asked them to accompany me. And somewhere along the way, I made the wrong choice and asked the wrong person. Her father would have never made such a stupid mistake, she knew that. He had been a great and noble man, surrounding himself with friends who had served him with a mixture of loyalty and love. Every knight and wizard in the kingdom had been ready to give their lives to protect the crown--and most of them eventually had--and yet here was his daughter, unable to assemble even a small band of friends without including at least one murderous traitor. She shook her head. She would never be able to live up to her father, not in a million years.

          But he's gone now, she thought bitterly. He died and left me all alone, and now I don't know what to do anymore.

          She stared at the sleeping forms of her friends, feeling paranoia gnaw at her insides.  Who was the traitor?  

Sally was the only real stranger in the group, but since she came from Earth, it was unlikely that she was a spy for the Sorceress. And most importantly, she liked Sally. She trusted her. And she didn't want to believe that her first impressions could have been so dreadfully wrong. What if Sally was somehow being possessed or controlled? It was certainly within the Sorceress’s powers, but it seemed doubtful.

          But if Sally wasn't the traitor, then it was one of her friends. And that was a very unhappy thought indeed.

          Yap was barely smart enough to walk upright, much less orchestrate a complicated bit of treachery, she decided. And Aligore and Dain had been guarding her family for decades, risking their lives to protect her time and time again. They also both shared a deep, unshakable hatred of the Sorceress and her minions. Their loyalty was beyond question.

          Which left Tom.

          She had known the Dwarf for less than a year. He had been the one who had saved them from the royal castle after it had been overrun by the monsters. Elsie loved him dearly, especially his cheerful attitude and giant heart. Still, Dwarves were notoriously mercenary creatures, often selling their loyalty to the highest bidder. Could he…? Would he? And now she began to wonder…had it really been simple luck that Tom had found her and her bodyguards that fateful night, that he had led them out of the castle through a secret Dwarf tunnel? Or had he been in league with the Sorceress even then? She remembered emerging from the Dwarf tunnel after hours of frantic, horrible scrambling through the dirt and darkness, remembered seeing the castle illuminated in the distance, its towers dancing with flames, remembered feeling her insides tear apart as she realized that the bodies of her parents were still somewhere inside the inferno. And Tom had wrapped his arms around her in a clumsy hug and he had held her until dawn broke over the valley and the fires in the distance had died away. Had it all been an act? Even then, had everything been an act?

          Elsie rubbed at her cheek absently, and was surprised when her hand came away wet. She didn’t even remember crying. Everything had gone horribly, unspeakably wrong. She buried her face in her hands and sat there for almost an hour, her chest hitching under the weight of muffled sobs.

          She eventually regained her composure. Princesses weren’t supposed to cry, but she had never been an especially good Princess. After drying her eyes, she checked her reflection in a nearby puddle of water. Her eyes were bleary and her face was too pale, but there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she didn’t feel or look like a Princess, she needed to act like one. Her friends were counting on her. 

          She crept over to the camp and woke Aligore and Dain. Although confused, they followed her in silence until they were out of earshot from the others. She told them everything, beginning with her dream and ending with her suspicions about Tom and Sally. They listened quietly…first with astonishment, then with barely-concealed rage.

          "THIS EXPLAINS MUCH," Aligore said. His normally sonorous voice was surprisingly weak. "THE SORCERESS HAS BEEN ONE STEP AHEAD OF US THIS ENTIRE TIME. STILL…I CANNOT IMAGINE TOM OR THE GIRL BETRAYING US..."

          Elsie sighed. "I know. I don't want to believe it either."

          "Why do you trust the gnome?" Dain asked suspiciously. It was no secret that he had never particularly cared for Yap.

          Elsie shrugged. "You've seen how he is. I love him, but Yap’s not exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver. Earlier today he got his foot stuck inside his ear and cried about it for twenty minutes. Does that sound like the work of a master spy to you?"

          "It could be a ruse," he insisted. "Gnomes aren’t smart, but they can be crafty. He could be playing the part of the fool to throw us off."

          Elsie sighed helplessly. "I suppose anything is possible."

          Dain nodded. “We should stab him, just to be safe.”

          “Please, Dain, this is no time for jokes.”

          He looked confused. “Who’s joking?”

          Aligore tapped his paw against the ground thoughtfully. "I BELIEVE YAP IS TOO STUPID TO BE A TRAITOR, AND THE HUMAN GIRL DOES NOT ACT POSSESSED."

          "Which only leaves the Dwarf," Dain said.

          "TOM IS A GOOD FRIEND," Aligore rumbled. "I WOULD TRUST MY LIFE TO HIM IN AN INSTANT."

          There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

          "What should we do, your majesty?" Dain asked quietly.

          Elsie leaned against the gnarled stump of a gooter tree and closed her eyes. "That's what I've been trying to decide. The three of us could leave tonight, which would keep us safe, but that would leave two innocent people alone with the traitor. Or we could just confront them with what we know and hope the traitor is frightened out of hiding."

          Aligore frowned. "OUR ONLY ADVANTAGE IS SURPRISE. IF THE TRAITOR FEELS THREATENED, WE COULD FIND OURSELVES IN A DANGEROUS SITUATION.”

          "Right," Elsie said. "And that's why I'm choosing the third option. We leave tonight--all of us--and we keep our mouths shut and our eyes open. We'll have to hope the traitor slips up before we do."

          "I don't like it," Dain admitted, "but that’s probably our best strategy for now."

          "YOUR HIGHNESS, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THAT THE TRAITOR MIGHT NOT EVEN EXIST?” There was a desperate note of hope in Aligore’s voice that was almost heartbreaking. “WHAT IF JONAH WAS WRONG?"

          Elsie gave him a feeble smile. "If that's the case, I'll be very relieved. Until then, I don't think we can take any chances. Let's go wake the others up." She stood and walked out of the clearing. She was moving slowly, her shoulders sagging and her feet dragging through the dirt. She looked defeated.

Dain turned to Aligore. His expression was hard. "The Princess trusts you," he said softly, "and so I will as well. But if you do anything to endanger her life, I will personally gut you, dragon. Are we understood?"

          Aligore stared back at him, his large eyes flashing. "PERFECTLY, AS LONG AS THE AGREEMENT IS MUTUAL. HUMAN."

          Dain nodded. "I would expect nothing less. And I know that you’re Tom’s friend, and I respect that. Still, if he proves to be the traitor..." He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

          Aligore growled. "IF TOM IS THE TRAITOR, I WILL GUT HIM MYSELF." 

          They walked in unhappy silence back to the clearing. Elsie was already busy waking the others. Yap leaped to his feet and scurried around in eager circles, shrieking wildly, but Tom and Sally seemed tired and confused.

          "It's still dark," Sally muttered. "What's going on?"

          "I'm sorry, but we've got to get moving," Elsie said. "Jonah's in trouble. Again. Unless he manages to escape, he's being taken to Reddock."

          Tom groaned. "Can't that kid go a single day without getting captured? Is this his hobby or something?"

          "Is he gonna be okay?" Sally asked.

          Elsie stared at her for a moment, her face unreadable. "I don't know. I hope so," she finally said.

          Tom pulled a dirty, tattered map from one of his many pockets and held it up to the moonlight, squinting intently. "Reddock, hmm?" he muttered. "Well, that’s some mighty crappy news. Reddock is pretty much due east, over beyond the mountains. And in case you guys ain’t noticed, we've been going west all day."

          Aligore exhaled loudly. "HOW BAD IS IT?"

          Tom shrugged. "Can't say for sure, not without knowing where Jonah is right now. But at the very least, we're looking at several days of hard marching."

          Everybody groaned.

          "Marching? Huzzah! Which of you lucky dorklings gets to carry the mighty Yap?" Yap asked brightly. He was trying to shove his foot inside his nose. This had apparently become something of an obsession for him. “Yap votes for the Dwarf. He needs to lose a few pounds of jiggly-fat.”

          With great effort, Tom ignored the gnome. "And if I had to make a guess," he continued, "I'd say that whoever has Jonah probably also has at least two days on us. Might not be able to catch 'em before they get to Reddock."

          "I MIGHT BE ABLE TO CATCH THEM," Aligore suggested, throwing a sideways glance at Elsie. "BUT I WOULD NEED YOUR SKILLS TO GUIDE ME, PRINCESS."

          She shook her head, giving the dragon a meaningful glance. "No, I want everyone to stay together. Everyone."

          Aligore nodded and said no more.

          Tom rubbed his nose thoughtfully, staring at the map. "There might be another way," he said slowly. "If Jonah went east after the Unicorn Glade went kablooey, that would put him right about here,"--he pointed to a spot on the map--"which means they're probably heading for the Gloaming Gulch. It's pretty much the only way to get through the mountain range in that area. See this river they're following? That's the Thsedda. But this river up here is the Mherra, and it heads in the same direction. The two rivers meet on the other side of the range, and they both flow right past Reddock. Now we're a good hike from the Thsedda at the moment, but I think the Mherra is only a little to the north of here."

          "Will it take us through the mountains?" Dain asked.

          Tom nodded. "I think so. Probably won't be a very pleasant trip, but it’d be faster than going by foot. The only problem will be finding a boat."

          Elsie leaned over his shoulder and pointed to a tiny red dot on the map. "Isn't that a town on the Mherra? It looks pretty close to here."

          Tom shifted uncomfortably, frowning. "Well, yeah...it's a town, and they'd definitely have boats there, but...it ain’t a very good town. That's New Lump. A piglump town."

          Dain and Aligore groaned loudly. Yap was the only one who seemed pleased by this news, but perhaps he was happy simply because his entire foot was now victoriously jammed inside his nostril.

          Sally glanced around, confused. "What's a piglump?"

          Tom rolled his eyes. "You'll find out."

*        *          *

          Marching at night wasn't much fun, Sally decided.

For example, the path they were following had a nasty habit of disappearing and reappearing in odd, uncomfortable places, leaving the group stumbling and floundering through prickly weeds and bushes. The canopy of trees above them obscured most of the moonlight, and she found herself running face-first into one slapping branch after another. To make matters worse, Dain, Aligore and the Princess seemed strangely subdued, almost to the point of rudeness. Dain in particular kept glaring at her, but she assumed he was simply grumpy. She certainly didn't feel very cheerful herself.

          Yap seemed to have no problem avoiding the tangleweeds and briar patches, so she followed behind the little gnome closely. The drawback to this strategy, of course, was that she had to listen to Yap talk.

          And talk he did. "When Yap sees that monkey-molesting Red Knight again," he told her seriously, "Yap will do much kicking and biting of the fat Knight's head and groin. Yap will pick him up and swing him around until his stupid brains explode, and then the evil Knight will become a happy and loveable creature of happiness and love, and he will give Yap gifts of fruit and hamsters and large bags of cash! And Jonah will cheer for Yap and say, hooray, Yap has saved the day, and here, Yap, have all my money, which Yap will use to buy large thumping sticks, just in case! And if the fat Dwarf doesn’t worship Yap, he will taste the vengeance of the thumping stick!"

          Sally interrupted the gnome—if you let him ramble on, a splitting headache was never far behind—by placing a hand on his shoulder. "Yap, what are piglumps?"

          A rapturous smile crossed his face. "Why, piglumps are the most wonderful and wise creatures in the world!"

          "Right, right," she said, "but what are they?"

          He looked slightly more confused than usual. "Piglumps are piglumps," he said, as if this explained everything. He then launched into a thrilling account of the terrible clumps of grass he had defeated and eaten several hours ago. This new tale came complete with violent pantomiming and quite a lot of screaming. Sally slowed her pace and let the gnome walk in front of her. Far in front of her, to be precise.

          "He'll shut up if you kick him hard enough," Tom suggested cheerfully.

          "Shh, he'll hear you!"

          "Don't listen to him about the piglumps either," he continued. "They're about as wise and wonderful as gumbeast dung. Nasty little wretches, all of 'em."

          "Are they dangerous?" she asked nervously.

          Tom laughed. "Piglumps, dangerous? Not hardly, except maybe to themselves. They're mostly river creatures--spend their entire lives on the water, y'know--but they're too stupid to learn to swim, so they're always drowning. And I mean constantly. Every time you see a piglump, it’s glug, glug, glug, gurgle, urk."

          "That's terrible!"

          He shrugged. "Humans think they're cute, otherwise they’d probably be extinct by now. Humans are always building 'em boats, houses and other stuff like that." He snorted. "You should see a boat built by piglumps…it’s usually just a bunch of logs in a row, not even tied together. It's like they love to drown."

          "And we're going to ride down the river on one of these boats?" Sally didn't like this new plan very much.

          He grinned. "Exciting, ain't it?"

          Dain suddenly appeared beside them, his face grim. "What are you two talking about?" he demanded.

          "Your shapely figure," Tom replied. "What's your secret, Dain?"

          The warrior scowled and stalked away. Tom stared after him, rubbing his chin. "Wonder what's got his codpiece in a bunch?" he muttered.

          The group finally stopped some time later to catch a few hours of sleep before the sun rose. Dain suggested that he and Aligore take turns standing watch while the others slept. To Sally’s surprise, the Princess agreed instantly.

*        *          *

          Piglumps are extremely strange creatures, to say the least. Standing no more than two feet high and with thick brown hair covering their round bodies, they somewhat resemble fat badgers with comically large eyes. They take pride in wearing clothes, believing this separates them from other beasts, but a piglump's definition of clothing is rather loosely defined. Therefore, it’s not uncommon to see piglumps wrapped in things like dirty washrags, twine, leaves, clumps of mud, or small struggling woodland creatures unlucky or slow enough to be caught.

          They fancy themselves river explorers, despite their crippling and unnatural fear of the water. Unfortunately, most piglumps make extremely poor explorers. Since they have such dreadful memories, every time a piglump goes anywhere--be it the river, the forest, or its own home--it is always amazed to discover this new location all over again. Slippercheese, perhaps the most famous piglump explorer of all time, is said to have discovered more than two different places at the same time, although this is a feat which some secretly doubt. Nevertheless, intrepid piglump explorers are eager to compete with Slippercheese's magnificent legacy, and they take to the river daily in an attempt to discover new and interesting creatures and locations.

          Most of them promptly drown.

          Along with water, all piglumps share an unshakable fear of demons, which severely stunts their ability to explore very far. Piglumps are convinced that demons are everywhere, and this fear is compounded by the fact that none of them are quite sure what demons actually look like. Therefore, any strange tree, rock or family member risks the very real danger of being identified as a demon, which usually results in several minutes of frantic screaming and running in circles until the danger has passed.

          {An interesting historical fact: Seventy-four years ago, a piglump city was invaded by an actual demon, an unholy fire-snorting monster that fed on the fear of its victims. The piglumps, not recognizing the creature, cheerfully welcomed it into their village, where they proceeded to tell the demon a number of very long stories that never really got to any sort of point. Confused to the point of tears, the demon finally left the village, bewildered and broken-hearted. Several hours later a suspicious-looking fish in the river was mistakenly identified as a demon. Panic ensued.}

          In any case, the piglumps who manage to avoid a watery grave return to the village every night--assuming they can find it again, of course--complete with many fascinating stories of the incredible things they discovered throughout the course of the day, most of which are utter lies. Piglumps are one of Rhyyne's great mysteries, for they never seem to actually eat anything. And as with all stupid creatures, reproduction is also something of a mystery, since nobody has ever seen a pregnant piglump. Yet the piglump species stubbornly refuses to wander off into oblivion, despite overwhelming evidence suggesting that extinction might not be such a bad idea after all.

*        *          *

          They reached the piglump city later that day. The city in question wasn't much of a city at all…a few ramshackle huts and grassy shelters that were no doubt assembled by pitying humans.

The piglumps were thrilled by their presence. They instantly surrounded the group, offering them "food" (mud) and "presents" (also mud). All of the piglumps seemed very pleased to have visitors, except for the ones who began shrieking about demons and promptly fled into the river. Scowling, Dain went off and began to pluck them out of the water one by one.

          Sally and Elsie were delighted by the cheerful little creatures, and Yap immediately disappeared into the heart of the village. The others didn't share their excitement, however. Tom swatted at the piglumps irritably, muttering something about "filthy, hairy gnomes." Even the mild-mannered dragon snapped at a few helpful piglumps who were coating him with a thick layer of ceremonial mud.

          After explaining their need for a boat several times using short sentences and very simple words, they were led to the center of the village to speak with the colony's greatest explorer, Winthrope Piglump. Winthrope's home seemed to be one of the nicer dwellings in New Lump, at least in the sense that it was still standing upright. They entered the crude hut and were met with the overpowering smell of swamp moss and dead fish. Two piglumps instantly hurried over to them, waving their tiny arms and squeaking.

          "Hullo, hullo!" the first one exclaimed brightly. "Winthrope Piglump, pleased to meet you, I must say!" He extended a small paw, grinning.

          "And I'm Willoughby!" the second piglump exclaimed, enthusiastically punching Winthrope out of the way and extending her own paw.

          Elsie bent down and shook their hands gravely. "My name is Elsie, High Princess of Dell," she said. Her tone was formal, but Sally saw that she was struggling to keep a straight face.

          "Ah, a Princess, are you? Yes, we get a lot of princesses down here..." Winthrope remarked thoughtfully, staring off into space.

          "Don't listen to him," Willoughby interrupted. "We almost never get any princesses here, you know. Mostly just demons." She squinted at them suspiciously. "None of you are demons, are you?"

          "I don't think so," Elsie said solemnly. The corner of her mouth was twitching.

          "Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? You'd never believe the problems we have with demons in this town." She shook her head sadly.

          "I've killed thousands of demons!" Winthrope leaped up and down, waving his arms, desperate for attention.

          "Seven, actually," Willoughby corrected.

          "Yes, thousands," he repeated proudly.

          Elsie nodded. "That's very courageous of you. Your friends told me you were the bravest explorer in the entire village."

          Sally thought she saw the creature blush beneath its fur. "Well, yes, that's probably true. I do have a very nice boat, you know. And I'm not afraid of demons!"

          "Well, some demons," Willoughby said.

          "Oh, right. Of course, some demons. Quite a few of them, actually. But most of the time I'm very brave."

          "Except when you're terrified."

          "Right. Except then."

          The piglumps beamed at them.

          Elsie leaned in closer. "How would you like to go on a great adventure with us?" 

          "Will there be demons?" Winthrope asked.

          Elsie shook her head.

          He looked crestfallen. "I was so hoping to see some demons," he said slowly, digging his toe in the dirt and looking mournful.

          "There will be millions of demons," she said instantly.

          The piglumps brightened noticeably.

*        *          *

          Jimjim the Grim was having a bad week. Last week had been pretty good--a few robberies, a few displays of public indecency--but this one was turning out to be a bugger. First he had been contacted in a dream by the Red Knight, which was not pleasant. The Knight had sent him to find the brat, but he hadn’t mentioned how obnoxious the child would turn out to be.

          He wanted to punch the brat again. That first one had felt good…it had been a long time since he had punched out a child, and he realized he had missed the thrill of it. But the Knight had appeared to him in a dream that same night with a warning, which had involved gardening shears and a carrot. He shuddered at the memory.  

          The brat had tried to escape several times, and Jimjim finally had to chain his legs together. This slowed their progress considerably. Even worse, he had been forced to use his supply of sleeping root on the brat to keep him from doing anything funny in the dreaming world. Next to killin’ t’ings and shootin’ stuff, sleeping root was just about his favorite thing in the entire world, and he wasn’t happy about wasting it.

          And the brat had finally figured out that Jimjim was too frightened to hurt him again, so now he had devoted his time to making fun of him. Jimjim had spent the last two decades enjoying the perks of being an infamous murderer, and one of those perks was the fact that people didn’t insult him to his face. Ever. He had forgotten how much he hated being made fun of. It hurt his feelings. He wanted to teach the boy a lesson by killing him, but then he remembered the gardening shears and quickly changed his mind.

          Things had gotten a little better when they had found the gumbeast wagon. He had stolen it while the owner snored by the side of the road, and it had been a good steal. At this pace, they would be through the Gulch in no time. And that, at least, was one bright spot.

The brat sat in the back of the wagon, his hands tightly bound behind his back. "Are we there yet?" he asked.

          "No."

          "Oh. Okay."

          There was a long pause.

          "How about now?"

          "No."

          "Oh." The brat hummed a little, staring off into the distance. He yawned. "How about now?"

          Jimjim gritted his teeth and glared over his shoulder. "Best shut your mouth, boyee!"

          "Got it. Just curious. Sorry." The brat began to methodically drum his feet against the back of Jimjim's seat. Kick. Kick. Kick. He broke off kicking and smiled at Jimjim brightly. "Are we there yet?"

          "No."

          "Oh." He began to kick Jimjim's seat again.

          Jimjim whipped the gumbeasts angrily, wishing for the thousandth time to be in Reddock and done with this entire mess. The gumbeasts groaned and walked faster.

          "You know, you really should pluck some of those ear hairs, Jimbo" the brat said. "It looks like you're growing a little monkey in there. All furry and everything. It's kind of scaring me, to be honest."

          Jimjim grimaced, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew the brat was simply trying to make him mad. To pass the time, he stared at the stony bluffs surrounding the path. Soon they would enter the Gloaming Gulch, and that was something he was not looking forward to. People said the Gulch was haunted, and he firmly believed every ghost story he had ever been told. He didn’t like ghosts, not at all.

          The brat yawned again, then loudly smacked his lips for several minutes. "Are we there yet?" he asked in an innocent voice.

          "No."

          "Hmm." The brat nodded thoughtfully and kicked the back of Jimjim's seat as hard as he could. "How about now?"

          Jimjim snarled and drove the gumbeasts on even faster. At the moment, death by ghosts didn't sound quite so bad.

*        *          *

          Sally trailed her fingers in the water idly. This definitely beat marching.

This was their second day on the river, and so far it had been a fairly uneventful trip. That was fine with her; she had decided that adventure was highly overrated. Especially the type of adventure that seemed to enjoy trying to kill her.

          And the raft was fairly nice. It was little more than a series of logs lashed together, but it was large and sturdy (and therefore obviously not built by piglumps). They let the current carry them down the river, and they paddled with crude oars when the current died away. Dain and Tom proved to be excellent fishermen, and there was never a shortage of fresh fish. The river was wide, the water cool and refreshing, and they were protected from the blistering sun by a dense canopy of trees high above them. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to travel.

          Willoughby and Winthrope quickly proved to be nuisances, of course. The piglumps were dreadful at sailing, and they seemed to spend most of their time tumbling into the water and promptly sinking. When they weren't being fished out of the river, the piglumps occupied themselves by finding demons and flying into fits of blind panic. They seemed especially convinced that fish were demons, and Tom didn't help matters by egging them on. Every time he caught a "demon" from the river, he would eagerly thrust it at the piglumps, laughing heartily as they tore about the raft, screaming and shrieking.

          And Sally still wasn't completely sure whether Willoughby and Winthrope were husband and wife or brother and sister. She had tried asking them once, but they hadn't understood the question and had instead answered her with an elaborate story about being attacked by a particularly nasty frog-shaped demon.

          She stared into the water and let her thoughts drift away to Jonah. The Princess hadn’t been able to contact him during the past several nights, which Sally found fairly ominous. At times she still found herself surprised by how strange and frightening Rhyyne could seem, and she was surrounded by friends. What must it be like for him?

          "Hang on," she whispered, stirring the water with her finger. "We're coming."

          There was a loud cry from behind her, followed by a noisy splash.

          "Not again!" Dain groaned. He reached into the water and fished out the spluttering Winthrope, who beamed at him broadly.

          "Why, thanks again, mate! Close shave there, eh?"

          "Did you see another demon?" Dain asked.

          The piglump scratched his furry chin thoughtfully. "I'm almost positive this time. It was up in the sky, just hovering there…watching us. Mockingly, you know. Big and white and fluffy. Dangerous, I'd say."

          "Sounds like a cloud." Dain's voice was very tired.

          Winthrope nodded knowingly. "Ah, well, that's exactly what a demon would want you to think. You can never be too careful when it comes to demons."

          The piglump took a step back and promptly fell into the river again. Dain sighed and reached back into the water.

          Sally turned away, smiling a little.

          On the horizon, the mountains loomed ever closer, steel-gray and imposing.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

DANGER IN THE PASS

       They reached the mountains late that night. The hazy silhouette of the peaks loomed in the sky above them, blotting out the stars. Sally craned her head back and watched as their outline stretched to seemingly impossible heights. They were the first mountains she had ever seen, and she suddenly felt very small and helpless.

          "A demon!" Willoughby screamed, immediately throwing herself over the side of the raft. Dain grimaced and fished the writhing piglump out of the water.

          "Are you sure this river will carry us through, Tom?" Elsie sounded nervous.

          Tom shrugged. "That's what it says on the map."

          Elsie turned back to the mountains. Her face was pale. "Huh," she said in a small voice.

          "Yap wants to go home," the gnome announced flatly. "Yap wants to go home right now."

          Sally felt somewhat relieved. At least she wasn't the only one intimidated by the massive slabs of stone towering above them.

          The river twisted in a lazy half-circle. Everyone waited in silence as the raft slowly made its way around the bend, bobbing gently in the current. The river twisted a bit more, the mountains now looming practically on top of them, and they came around the final bend.

          Yap groaned loudly.

          The river flowed into the mouth of a gaping hole in the base of the cliff. The cave was pitch black. Menacing stalactites hung from the lip of the cave, jutting downward like sharpened teeth. The water rushing into the cave made a strange, hollow gurgling noise which echoed through the trees around them. Sally had never seen anything so frightening in her entire life. I don't like the dark, she suddenly decided. I don't like it at all.

          The two piglumps squealed in unison and immediately dashed underneath Aligore. The dragon looked vaguely unhappy about this, but he remained silent. Tom spit into the river and shuffled his feet nervously. Dain drew his sword and gripped it tightly.

          "Y'know, it'll be morning in a few hours. We could wait," Tom suggested.

          Elsie shook her head, although her expression suggested she would like nothing better. "We can't afford to waste any time. Besides, it probably wouldn't make a difference. Once we're inside, I mean."

          Tom nodded.

          Sally swallowed hard. "What kind of creatures live in caves here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light and airy and failing miserably.

          Elsie gave her a faint shrug. "I have no idea. I've never really been in a cave before. I've heard plenty of stories, but I don't think you would really want to hear them."

          "No, probably not."

          They reached the mouth of the cave. The massive stalactites high above them easily dwarfed their raft. A decidedly unpleasant smell came drifting out of the darkness, ripe with the taste of old dead things. Then they were inside and the gloom swallowed them.

          The raft was silent for a moment.

          "Lovely vacation spot, this is," Tom remarked dryly. "Suppose we'll be eaten now or later?"

          "Probably any time now," Dain said.

          "Well, that's good. Can't stand long waits."

          Sally felt Elsie's body tense beside her. The Princess drew in a deep breath, then muttered a few quick words that Sally couldn't quite make out.

          A ball of light suddenly crackled to life in the center of the raft. A small circle of flames were dancing in Elsie's hands, skipping from one hand to the other, sparkling brightly. Elsie's eyes were shut tightly and her face was drawn with lines of deep concentration. Beads of sweat glowed hot on her forehead.

          "I'll keep the light going for as long as I can," she whispered. "You’d better hurry, though. I don't know how long it’ll last..."

          The others stared at her. She is so cool, Sally thought with just the faintest twinge of jealousy.

          Dain stood up. "Everybody grab an oar," he ordered. "The faster we paddle, the better chance we have of getting out of here alive."

          Sally picked up an oar of her own, and Tom did the same beside her. Yap and the two piglumps were struggling together to lift one of the heavy oars. Aligore simply dipped one of his large paws into the water and began paddling. 

          The raft bobbed away into the darkness.

*        *          *

          The wagon had stopped on the side of the dusty trail, and the exhausted gumbeasts were grazing on the few patches of prickergrass that dotted the rocky landscape. Jimjim had reluctantly left the safety of the road and was out foraging for food somewhere. Jonah could faintly hear him stumbling through the prickergrass and letting fly with brief but ferocious blasts of profanity.

          They were deep within the Gloaming Gulch.

          At first Jonah hadn’t been particularly impressed by the Gulch. The path wound its way through the mountains haphazardly, towering hulks of stone suspended high above them. The landscape was a bit barren, but it possessed a strange sort of natural beauty that made Jonah think of pictures he had seen of the Grand Canyon. Jimjim seemed completely terrified by the Gulch, muttering darkly about ghosts and spirits, but Jonah wasn't the superstitious type. He certainly hadn't seen any ghosts yet.

          At night, however, the Gulch had taken on a sinister new life. The gigantic shafts of rock on either side of the trail obscured almost all light, and their path was visible only by a dismal trickle of moonlight. There were also strange noises and voices echoing throughout the hills, and although Jonah hadn’t been able to make out any of the words, the sounds were unsettling. Jimjim's ghost stories suddenly seemed much more plausible.

          Jonah pressed back against the side of the wagon, furiously rubbing the rope around his wrists against the corner of a wooden strut. He had been steadily working away at the rope for the past several hours, and it was slowly but surely giving way. He had been careful to cut through the rope discreetly, and Jimjim had fortunately been distracted by his paralyzing fear. Now that he was alone, however, Jonah worked as quickly as he could. With Jimjim away from the wagon, it would be a simple matter to grab the reins and leave his captor far behind. The only thing standing in his way were these blasted ropes.

          There was another alternative, of course. He still had Yap's shrinking powder in one of his pockets, and it would be a simple matter to shrink himself enough to wiggle free of his bonds. The only problem was that he had no growing powder, so any shrinking would be permanent. He didn't particularly like the idea of being two inches high and lost in the middle of the Gulch. No, the shrinking powder was useless at the moment.

          His stomach growled and he winced. The last several days had been fairly miserable. He had been tightly bound constantly, and Jimjim had force-fed him some sort of sleeping root whenever he slept. Although the sleeping root took him away from his worries and aching muscles, it also prevented him from contacting his friends in the dream world. To make matters worse, they had run out of food last night. Jimjim had left several times since then to forage for food, but he hadn’t offered to share any of his findings with Jonah.

          Can't really blame him for that, though, he thought, and he grinned a little in spite of himself. He had mercilessly annoyed Jimjim for the last two days. As Jimjim grew angrier, he also grew more careless and distracted, increasing Jonah's chances for escape. It was a fine line to walk, but he thought he was safe for the time being…after the initial punch, Jimjim had grown far too terrified of the Red Knight to even think about harming him again. Still, he hadn't been surprised when his food had stopped.

          There was a crashing sound from outside the wagon and Jimjim cursed again. His voice sounded slightly louder. He was coming back. Too soon, much too soon. Jonah frantically sawed away at the cords around his wrist. Sweat blurred his vision and his arms screamed in protest.

          The ropes seemed to give slightly. His heart leaped. He tried to pull away, but they still held firm. Close, but not close enough.

          He could now hear Jimjim panting and muttering under his breath.

          Jonah worked faster, desperate now, gritting his teeth against the pain. The cords see-sawed violently against the wooden strut, but they didn't break. He briefly thought of movies he had seen where characters had cut through their bonds in a matter of seconds. He felt like punching one of those characters in the face.

          The back flap of the wagon was thrown open and Jonah instantly slumped back against the wall, feeling weak and defeated. Jimjim clambered inside, his face pale and drawn. Several nasty cuts crisscrossed his face.

          "Fell down a bit out there, huh?" Jonah asked pleasantly.

          "Shut up, boyee," Jimjim muttered. He hunched down on the seat across from him and opened up a little drawstring pouch around his waist.

          "Bring me anything good to eat, donkey-face?"

          "Nuttin' for you. Got me some bubbleslugs, tho." Jonah was both horrified and fascinated by the slimy, pale creatures that Jimjim took from the pouch. Several inches long and almost completely transparent, they resembled nothing more than great globs of living snot.

          "And you're going to eat those things?" he asked, frowning a little bit.

          Jimjim shrugged. "Hungry. Nuttin' else to eat."

          He tossed one of the bubbleslugs in his mouth and bit down. Jonah heard a distinct pop, and Jimjim winced in disgust. The bubbleslugs apparently didn't taste any better than they looked. He began to cough and hack, his eyes rolling back in his head, tongue lolling out of his mouth. The smell of rotten fruit filled the wagon.

          "Are they good?" Jonah asked sweetly.

          Jimjim glared at him and popped another bubbleslug in his mouth. Judging from his reaction, this one tasted even worse.

          "Guurkk. Ghyyeh. Blurckgh." Jimjim wiped his mouth slowly, his hand shaking slightly.

          Jonah watched him, an enormous grin on his face.

*        *          *