

Chasm

Michael Joel Green & Vickie Kirk

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Michael Joel Green and Vickie Kirk

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Contents

Prologue

A Stranger on the Bus

Three Strikes

The Red Demon

Underwater

Grandpa Tucker's House

Eddie Maupin

Sabotage

Branches

Illiana

The Onyx

Sneaking Out

Emi

Sneaking In

The Chase

The Old Man

The Memory Snoop

Kidnapped

Reminders of Home

Alistair

Resistance

Holding On

Patience Lost

Explanations

Joshua's Ascent

Ralmaghar

Searchlights

Secrets Revealed

Meruzilak

Morning Visitors

Traveling Companions

Handstands

Joshua's Wait

Joshua's Escape

The Chasm

Epilogue

To lose the earth you know, for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth------whereon the pillars of this earth are founded. – Thomas Wolfe

PROLOGUE

Sebastian did not have to look into her eyes to know she was grieving. She had lost so much and was about to give up the rest. Maybe there was another way. Maybe there was something they overlooked, something right in front of them so obvious it defied notice.

"We haven't overlooked anything," Illiana told him.

Sebastian lowered his head, embarrassed. He didn't want Illiana searching his thoughts at the moment, trespassing on his emotions. He knew she used her power on rare occasions, but it always seemed to be during moments he'd rather not share.

"The decision has been made and there is no turning back." Cornelius spoke for the first time since they arrived. "That option has been taken from us and we must now do what we agreed upon."

Cornelius walked slowly to the cliff's edge. His tattered robe hung at his feet; its silken cloth glistened under the setting sun. He walked with the stride of a man who knew his time was at hand. Cornelius was not a weak or fearful man, but it was apparent this decision had weighed heavily on him. The concern in his eyes belied his strength and authority. He stood at Sebastian's side, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

"The fourth will come, Sebastian. This will not be done in vain."

The sun fell below the horizon, its light replaced by that of the moon. The three friends listened in silence to the sounds of life around them—the gulls, the waves, the leaves rustling in the breeze.

"Illiana, it is time," Cornelius said.

Illiana stepped off the cliff but did not fall. She floated across the canvas sky, her turquoise gown flowing gently behind her. Hovering above the ocean, she raised her arm and opened her hand, which held a smooth dark stone.

Sebastian heard Illiana's voice in his head. "We are doing what is right," she assured him. He felt a surge of energy racing through him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Sebastian groaned in pain as a stream of light shot from his hand and struck the stone.

The force of the impact gave Illiana a heavy jolt, but she held tightly to the stone. "Cornelius, now!" Without hesitation, Cornelius raised his arms and released his power. The stone exploded with light, shrouding the dusk and illuminating the waters below.

Illiana closed her eyes. She focused intently, channeling the light, sending it from her mind ... to her arm ... and finally, through her hand. The ground shook and the sky lit up like a torch. Illiana's fingertips burned, but she did not feel the pain.

The moon rose higher in the sky. The breeze rustled the leaves in the trees. The waves crashed upon the rocks and the ocean mist fell upon the sand. And so it was done.

Chapter 1

A Stranger on the Bus

The worst part about being twelve? No understanding. No understanding on anyone else's part, that is. Surely not from Joshua. What could a nine-year-old possibly understand? Certainly not from his teachers or from Mrs. Morris, the principal. And most of all, not from his mother—her above everyone else.

Daniel pushed his plate aside. He couldn't finish his supper (broccoli! the third night in a row). It had been a rough day and all he wanted to do was get to his room and sort things out in his head. "Can I be excused?" he asked. He wasn't sure what he would do if his mother refused the request. He'd probably do it anyway.

It wasn't that he wanted to disobey, it was just that he couldn't sit there any longer, pretending to be chipper while fielding his mother's questions. When would parents learn that children don't want to answer the question, "How was school today?" They should know by now the answer they'll receive is, "Fine."

His mother acquiesced. Daniel took his plate to the sink and left the room, stopping in the hallway to check on his history project. It still needed a couple of finishing touches, but he could do those tomorrow. Daniel paused long enough to hear his brother detailing the events of that afternoon. Joshua spoke in hushed tones, but the words reached Daniel's ears, nonetheless.

"I don't know what happened to him, Mom," Joshua said. "He froze up and just stood there, and he had a really scared look on his face. Then he screamed," Joshua added. "He wouldn't say a word on the way home. He walked with his head down ... and he was really mad."

***

Josh and his big mouth. Why did he have to talk all the time about everything, and usually at Daniel's expense? Daniel couldn't count the number of times his brother had ratted him out over the years. Sure, this was a little different, but what business was it of his? Yeah, something happened on the bus and, yeah, it happened just like Josh said. But why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Daniel was the one who saw it, not Josh.

Besides, even if he wanted to tell his mom, what would he say? How could he explain it without her thinking he was crazy?

Mom, I have something to tell you. I got on the bus after school today and Mrs. Humphries changed into a monster! That's right, Mom, a full-blown, out-of-the-horror-movies, ooze-dripping monster. By the way, she didn't bother changing her clothes. She was still wearing those polyester pants that show every ripple of fat on her stubby legs, and her penny loafers—you know, the ones that say "comfort instead of style." And it was really cool because all that ooze didn't even drip on her blue bus driver's shirt. Nice to know monsters are tidy as well as horrifying. So what do you think, Mom, should I pack my bags for the hospital now or do you want to wait until after dinner?

No, he wasn't going to tell his mother, or anyone else, for that matter. The face was grotesque and contorted, matted with stringy black hair. Steam poured from its ears and nose, and silvery ooze filled its eyes. Daniel couldn't bear to look at it for more than a second but knew it was sinister, and definitely not human.

It was like his world went into a tunnel. The noises around him disappeared, leaving a ghostly rumbling silence, and he felt it grow cold around him. The creature opened its mouth to speak. Though he didn't hear the words coming out, there was no doubt what the monster was saying. "Daniel," it snarled. "Daniel."

Daniel stepped back and screamed, putting his hands up to defend himself. Then, as if having cold water doused on him, he came to and heard laughter. He opened his eyes and saw the other students in their seats, pointing and gossiping. The evil face was gone. There was only Mrs. Humphries, who smiled at him with a kind and concerned look.

"Daniel?" she said. "Daniel, honey, are you okay?"

He managed to give her a nod, but as he fumbled his way to the back of the bus, his world was still spinning and he had no idea what he'd just seen.

_I don't care if they think I'm crazy_ , Daniel thought. _I know what I saw, and what I saw was real. I don't care what anybody thinks_.

Daniel changed into his sweatpants and thermal and stood at the window, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. He did care, actually, what others thought, but wasn't about to admit it. The face on the bus was so vivid in his memory, from the silvery eyes to the vein-lined cheeks, that he knew he was right.

Nothing in his life made sense, so why should this be different? If no one believed him, fine. He was getting used to being on his own and saw it as a badge of courage. "Heroes stand alone," he declared, the words tumbling from his lips. It was something he'd heard many times, something grownups liked to say when they were trying to make a moral statement. He remembered his father using it on more than one occasion.

He closed the curtain and turned from the window. It was strange; Daniel could still hear his dad's voice, as if it were right there speaking to him. You're Braden boys. Don't worry about what other people think. You do what's right, and everything else will fall into place.

Daniel sat at the edge of the bed, tightly gripping his foam basketball. It had been a long time since he'd thought of that. It was during their Yosemite trip. They stopped at a diner along the way, and after scarfing down their food, he and Joshua ran outside to play. That's when he found the wallet.

He'd never seen so much money. Ten and twenty dollar bills exploded from the leather pocket when he opened it. There must be over four hundred dollars in here, Daniel remembered thinking. He was close. It was four hundred and twelve dollars, to be exact.

He kept his mouth shut as they drove, debating what to do. Should he ditch the wallet and keep the money? It would go a long way toward buying a new bike to replace the one that was stolen. He could always mail the driver's license and credit cards back to the owner. His conscience, though, was turning somersaults. At the next rest stop, he showed the wallet to his father.

He kicked himself for giving away the money. Now, it would be ages before he saved enough for the bike, but he felt good about what he'd done. The owner was an elderly man who lived not too far from Yosemite and was so happy to get his wallet back that he thanked Daniel at least thirty-six times and gave him a reward of twenty-five dollars.

That night, his father told him how proud he was of him. "Well," Daniel countered, "everyone else will probably say I'm an idiot for not keeping the money."

In the end, he figured it was an even trade-off. Four hundred and twelve dollars plus a guilty conscience versus twenty-five dollars and hearing his dad say he was proud of him. He could live with that.

Daniel shook off the memory. That was then and this is now, he told himself. That was back when life made sense. He tossed the ball at the hoop hanging on the closet door. His shot missed wide and the ball fell to the carpet. He didn't bother to pick it up.

Why does everything have to change? Daniel collapsed onto his bed, where he soon drifted off to sleep, a sleep as restless as the waves outside his window.
Chapter 2

Three Strikes

There had been too much rain and too little sun in Grisby this year. Seeing the bright rays and feeling the unaccustomed warmth, Daniel smiled as he walked to the schoolyard (he thought it a good idea not to take the bus today). The sky was clear and he was happy to have left his raincoat behind. _If only I could leave Josh behind, too—then everything would be perfect._

"Hey, wait up," said Joshua, struggling to lace his sneaker while clutching his lunchbox.

That was Josh—sweet to the core. Nauseatingly sweet. Was it any wonder every mother in town thought he was the most adorable boy to ever walk the face of the earth? How many times had he heard the compliments?

Oh, he's got such a pleasant attitude.

What a joy to have around.

He's so well behaved and has such excellent manners.

Daniel knew another word for his brother: naive. Naive and clumsy. How that boy would ever make it in the real world was beyond him.

Daniel glanced at Joshua, still struggling with his laces. His tousled brown hair hung over his eyes, while his hand-me-down ski jacket and humongous backpack called attention to his smallish frame. Joshua was small for his age, but if it bothered him he never mentioned it.

Joshua finished tying his sneaker and ran to catch up. "Thanks for waiting, Daniel," he said, slightly out of breath.

"I wasn't waiting. I was just watching nine years of dumb.

***

Smack!

Daniel was greeted in first period English class by a pencil eraser that nailed him squarely on the cheek. "Oh, you're going to pay for that, Brad!" Daniel took out a rubber band to use as a weapon of his own.

Smack!

A spitball splashed against his neck; the assailant this time was Stephanie Meacham, the class tomboy. "Don't be starting fires you can't put out," Daniel said, firing his rubber bands at both shooters. "This is war."

The second bell had rung and Mrs. Tarpley was late. Brad Sherman had taken her place in front of the class and was clearly enjoying his time there. "You should have seen Braden," he said. "He almost jumped out of his skin when that hit him."

Daniel loaded an eraser onto his rubber band and shot it at him. "You're dead now, Sherman."

"Quick, everybody down," a student yelled. "Here comes Tarpley."

The kids scrambled to their seats as Mrs. Tarpley entered an orderly classroom. "Why do I feel like I've just walked in on something that shouldn't have been going on?"

Brad snickered and glanced at Daniel. Daniel smiled and held up a spitball he was working on. Just wait, this one's got your name written on it.

"All right, since you're all so eager to get started," Mrs. Tarpley said, "take out your textbooks and turn to chapter nine."

***

The other students raced by on their way home or to after-school activities, and all Daniel could do was wait. He hated to be kept waiting. It was his biggest pet peeve, and what made it even worse was that Joshua knew it.

"Hey, Daniel!" It was his friend Travis. "Are you coming to the bluff?"

Daniel scowled and stood on the bench to get a better view of the oncoming crowd of students. _Of course, every kid in school is coming down the hall except for Josh._

"Braden, are you coming to the bluff or what?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. After I put my kid brother on the bus."

Daniel looked at his watch and paced. Every day he met Joshua here and every day, like clockwork, Joshua was late. The other guys were probably there already. You've got five minutes, Josh. After that, you're on your own. He started his stopwatch. Make that four minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Daniel and his buddies had invented a game called Three Strikes. It wasn't complicated; it was just cool. They made a rope swing that swung out over the bluff behind Shawn Hudson's house. The goal was simple. Several trees lined the edge of the bluff, but one in particular, nicknamed the Goblin for its spooky appearance, had immense branches with one that reached a good fifteen feet over the cliff's edge. Each boy held a different colored piece of chalk and would try to swing far enough to mark the branch with his color. The first with three chalk marks was the winner.

It was his favorite game. For Daniel, there was no feeling like it, swinging over the rocks, looking down at the ocean and sand below. It was the closest thing he knew to flying. Unfortunately, he was forbidden to play it, which is why he lied to his mother and told her he was playing football.

Mothers worry too much about everything. You can't have any fun without them breathing down your neck. There's nothing dangerous about Three Strikes. You'd have to be a moron to get hurt.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Daniel," said Joshua, running down the hall, his overstuffed backpack jangling with each step.

"You're sorry every day. Quit being sorry and start being on time."

***

"Watch this! One-handed, one foot!"

It was a great feeling, soaring above the ground and being suspended in air. Gravity may always win, but occasionally it gives a momentary reprieve. Daniel flipped upside down on the swing and felt the blood rush to his head. He wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world.

Nor was there any place he'd rather be. He remembered that his mom and Joshua believed he was playing football. Well, what they don't know won't hurt them. He slashed his yellow chalk across the Goblin's arm-like branch. His second strike.

He hadn't had this much fun in a long time. It was good to be hanging out with his buddies, laughing and goofing around. He swung back to the edge, jumped high off the swing, and landed safely on the ground.

"That was awesome, man," Stevie said, slapping his hand.

"Wait until you see my next trick. One hand, no feet, then I'm going upside down again."

Daniel looked at the chalk marks on the branch and tallied the scores. He was in the lead with two strikes. All he needed to do was wait his turn and go out in style. He wondered if it was possible to go upside down without using any hands.

The day was waning, and Daniel wished it didn't have to end. He needed to finish a book report that night. Hmm, let me see, having fun versus doing homework—I think I'll take having fun.

"All right, Braden, your turn. See if you can come through in the clutch."

Daniel reached for the rope. "You better believe I can come through in the clutch, Travis. I'm as clutch as they come." He needed a lot of running room and took the rope back as far as possible before taking off. He was going to finish the game with an acrobatic flourish, even if it meant showing off a little.

He never got that far.

It was Joshua, sprawled out on the ground and holding his leg in pain. His jeans were ripped and his knee was bleeding. Daniel stared at his brother, trying to assess the situation. Tears streamed down Joshua's cheeks, cutting into the dirt on his face and leaving a trail of ... over-dramatics. Yes, that was definitely the phrase he was searching for. Once again, Josh was destroying his life.

"What are you doing here?" Daniel said.

Joshua stifled his sobbing long enough to speak. "I tripped on a stump. It hurts, Daniel. It hurts bad."

Typical Josh, Daniel thought. How many times over the years had he seen this happen? Joshua tripping on a rock. Joshua falling off a swing. Joshua stumbling down the stairs. It was always something. The boy had the balance of an egg in a tailspin.

"I swear you are the clumsiest kid in the world." Daniel grabbed a water bottle from his backpack. "It's a miracle you're able to put on pants without breaking your leg."

Joshua bit his lip and wiped away the remaining tears. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I didn't mean to be clumsy."

Daniel knelt beside his brother, poured water over the cut, and washed out the dirt. "You never do, but it happens all the same."

"Hey, Braden, are you going to take your turn or what?"

Playing paramedic to his brother's stupidity, he'd completely forgotten about the game. He hadn't lost a game of Three Strikes yet and wasn't about to start now. Besides, he reasoned, Joshua had already busted him for playing. If he was going to get in trouble, he should make sure it was worth it. "Hold on, I'll be right there!"

"Please, Daniel, don't leave." Joshua's eyes filled with tears and his lip quivered. "I think it might be broken."

"It's not broken. Will you stop being so dramatic?" He handed the bottle to Joshua, who gulped the rest of the water.

"Hurry up, Braden, we don't have much time left. If your brother's through being a wuss, then come on."

"Hey, I've seen you cry a lot harder than that, Shawn. Go ahead and take my turn, though. I'm done playing." It wasn't fun anymore. Plus, he needed to get his brother home on a bad leg. "You think you'll be able to walk on it?" he asked Joshua, who nodded. "Let's get out of here, then." He helped Joshua to his feet. "And if you tell Mom what we were doing, I'll pound you like a box of nails."

The brothers had just turned to leave when they heard the commotion. Daniel, looking back, knew instantly what happened—Shawn had fallen. The rope snapped and sent him tumbling down the side of the bluff. He was lying in the bush twenty feet below and not moving, his arm pinned beneath him.

Amid the panic, Stevie yelled, "Quick, somebody call for help!"

***

An hour later, the paramedics loaded Shawn in the back of an ambulance and shut the door. The boys watched in silence.

It had been a circus. Once the fire truck came, every neighbor within earshot showed up, gossiping and scrambling to get a better view of the firefighters hoisting Shawn onto a stretcher.

Shawn suffered a concussion, a broken arm, and two broken ribs. It would be a long time before his next game of Three Strikes. The crowd thinned and Daniel knew the phone lines in town would be logjammed by concerned mothers. There was no doubt that his mom had already heard. Daniel winced; there was no getting out of it now. He was doomed to a cruel and unreasonable punishment. If he thought the excitement of the afternoon was upsetting and tension-filled, it was nothing compared to the maelstrom awaiting him at home.

"Can you believe this?" Stevie said as the ambulance drove away. "It's crazy."

"I can't believe the rope broke. We've swung on that rope thousands of times, and all of a sudden it breaks."

Stevie looked back at Joshua, limping and struggling to keep up. "It's a good thing he's so clumsy."

"What do you mean?"

"If your brother wasn't such a klutz, it would have been you on the swing." The ambulance turned the corner and disappeared from view. "It would be you on the way to the hospital."

Chapter 3

The Red Demon

Daniel sat at his desk, bored. How could he be expected to concentrate on a book report after the Three Strikes accident? He couldn't remember what the book was about, anyway—some family that went out west during the war or something like that.

Daniel sharpened his pencil, tore off a sheet of paper from his notepad, and began writing something way more important:

Dear Mom,

I'm leaving. Don't try to find me because 1) you won't be able to and 2) I don't want to be found. You had your chance and blew it. I don't know where I'll end up, but it will be better than being stuck in this family. If I never see you again, see you in Heaven.

Your son, Daniel

P.S. Tell Josh he can have my room.

Daniel read the letter, nodding with approval, then crumpled it and threw it into the wastebasket. If Mom's not careful, one of these days it will be for real.

His mother had come down harder on him than he expected. In fact, he'd never seen her so mad. It's like she thinks she's hurting me by sending me to my room. Here's a news flash, Mom: I'd rather be here than anywhere else. At least here I don't have to be with you.

The truth was that Daniel preferred being by himself. He didn't understand the need for constant chatter. If he had something to say, he said it and quit talking. Joshua was the people person, not Daniel. Joshua could talk to anyone, anytime—and usually did. When the boys had shared a bedroom, Daniel often pretended to be asleep when Joshua began his nightly ramblings about superheroes, comic books, or whatever else he'd seen on TV that night.

"Daniel, are you asleep?" Joshua would ask.

Daniel lay awake in bed, pretending to sleep. Sometimes, he'd quietly snore.

"Daniel, who do you think is the most powerful superhero?"

Daniel continued to snore.

"Daniel, if kryptonite hurts Superman on earth, what do you think would happen if Superman went back to Krypton? Would kryptonite not hurt him then, since he's not on earth anymore?"

Daniel rolled over on his side to hide the smile on his face. It was a good question, he conceded. What would happen to a superhero if he returned to his world? Would his powers be greater? Would something that harmed him on earth be able to harm him on his own planet? He fell asleep considering these questions.

Daniel returned to the book report. It was useless. He didn't understand why teachers put such an emphasis on homework. It had nothing to do with the real world. Real learning was not factoring math equations or counting electrons. Sitting on the shore while his dad pointed out the Little Dipper—this was real learning. He could spend hours like that, asking his dad a question, listening as his dad answered the question and followed it with a story from his own experiences. To Daniel, experience was what mattered, and that came through doing, not sitting in a boring classroom.

Daniel closed his books. It could wait until tomorrow. Besides, he could fudge the report and still get a decent grade. "All I have to do is put in a lot of fancy words," he said, switching off the desk light. "Mrs. Tarpley's a sucker for that kind of stuff."

***

Joshua crawled inside the fort. It had taken every couch cushion and blanket in the closet to build, but this had turned into one of his best pillow forts. He spread out his superhero comics, placed the tub of popcorn in front of him, zipped himself inside the sleeping bag, and pushed "play" on the remote to resume the movie. As movies go, this one was fairly entertaining—two cops that didn't like each other got teamed up to solve a robbery at a local racetrack. One officer spoke with a whiny, high-pitched voice and made a lot of jokes, and the other was way too serious.

Joshua grabbed the first comic. There was just one problem: it was too dark to read and he didn't want to leave the tent to turn on the lamp. The answer came quickly. My wristwatch flashlight! He pressed a button on the side of the watch and a tiny beam shot forward, giving him more than enough reading light. He turned up the volume on the TV, shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, then turned the comic book to the next page.

***

Daniel took the back staircase to the hallway, not wanting to risk an encounter with his mother. He quietly checked the specifications of his project, making sure he hadn't overlooked any details. Nope. Everything looked perfect; every wire was in place and the paint was dry. Satisfied, he covered the project and left the room.

He couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was not to be the one who'd fallen (after all, he was that close to taking the swing). Or maybe lucky wasn't the right word for it—he almost felt guilty about it. Shawn and he teased each other continuously, but Daniel still felt sorry for him. How would he brush his teeth now, or floss, with that huge cast on his arm? He was probably propped up on an ironing board because it was too uncomfortable to sleep in his bed.

He hadn't spoken to Joshua since that afternoon. He didn't want to thank Joshua—what happened was pure coincidence—but he probably owed him an apology for yelling and embarrassing him in front of the guys. He'd do it later, he decided.

Daniel changed into his pajamas and crept under the covers. He was worried about Shawn but knew he'd be all right—he'd probably enjoy the attention he received. His bigger concern was sleep. He was having bad dreams lately. However, they weren't nearly as bad as the restlessness that came upon him while he was trying to fall asleep, especially when certain memories sprinted to the front of his mind.

***

Daniel and his dad built model rockets together in the garage. His favorite part was going through the catalogs and selecting the one to build. His dad would order the kit and, in a few weeks' time, Daniel found the package in the mail. Until then, he raced past his mother every day to be the first to the mailbox.

Their current rocket took them longer than most. For months, his father was putting in longer hours at work and had less time to spend with the family. It frustrated Daniel, who was eager to finish. He understood his dad had to work but still felt let down each time he went to the garage alone.

This rocket was sure to be their best one yet. It had the new turbo-charged engine, which gave it greater speed and altitude. The rocket, which they named The Red Demon, promised to blast off 1,200 feet in the sky with a shrieking whistle before the parachute deployed and guided it safely to the ground. It had been tougher to build than the others. The parachute itself, with its larger size, was a chore to pack. But they finally finished and now the good part was coming—the launch!

Saturday was supposed to be a clear day. His father was working an early shift that morning but promised to be home by noon. They'd walk to the nearby field and launch The Red Demon.

Daniel was too excited to sleep that night. He kept looking over the side of his bed to stare at the rocket, which he'd placed carefully on the floor next to him. Joshua leaned on one arm to get a better view. "You better remember it's there when you get up to pee. You'll crush it getting out of bed."

"Yeah, right," said Daniel. "You think I'm dumb enough to forget it's there? Besides, you're the one who gets up twelve times in the middle of the night to take a whiz." When he was certain Joshua had fallen asleep, Daniel moved The Red Demon under his bed, breathed a sigh of relief, and fell asleep.

Daniel woke early, immediately checking under the bed to make sure The Red Demon was still there. He looked at Joshua's bed, saw it was empty, then went downstairs to the kitchen. His mind was racing, going over the specifications of the launch. As he poured a glass of milk, his mother entered the room.

"You're up early," she said. "Excited about today?"

"Uh-huh. When does Dad get home?"

"He'll be home in a while. Hey, I had an idea. Why don't you ask Joshua to come with you?"

"Joshua?" Daniel grimaced. "No way. He'll do something stupid and screw everything up. Besides, he's a pest."

"You know, Daniel, he may be a pest, but he looks up to you more than anyone. You're his hero."

"Yeah, well, I never volunteered for the job."

"Besides," she added, "you're a pest to me sometimes, but I still keep you around."

Daniel had never won an argument with his mother. The best he could do was make a deal. "I'll invite him next time, I promise. But not today, okay? Today is supposed to be special, just me and Dad."

"All right. But I'm holding you to it. Next time."

His father didn't make it home by noon. At three thirty, Daniel was still waiting by the window. This special day was being ruined and now it was starting to rain. If he didn't launch today, it might be another month before he put the rocket into the air.

I'm tired of him working all the time! Frustrated, Daniel pulled his raincoat and boots from the hall closet and walked out the door, holding The Red Demon in his arm. He was going to put the rocket airborne, with or without his father.

Knowing the rain would soon fall more steadily, Daniel ran to the launch site. They always launched from a specific landmark—the massive oak tree standing alone in the field. Daniel prepared The Red Demon for flight, checking the switches and readying the launcher. Lift off!

But the rocket, instead of shrieking 1,200 feet in the sky with a glorious whistle, flew crookedly into the limbs of the tree. Daniel stared in horror. What happened? We did everything by the book. What went wrong?

The rocket rested in the arms of the tree, its body mangled. Just then, Daniel heard his mother's car approaching, the horn blaring.

"Daniel!" his mother called. "Get in the car, Daniel. Hurry!"

Three hours later, a nurse escorted Daniel into a cold hospital room. His father was lying flat, in a white metal bed, with tubes attached to his arms. At first, Daniel registered no emotion; it was too foreign and strange. His father's face was bleak, and Daniel saw none of the vibrancy that hallmarked his father's expression. When the emotion finally came, tears flooded Daniel's face. He climbed into the hospital bed.

His father seemed strengthened by his son's embrace and tightened his grip around the boy. "There are so many things I need to tell you," he whispered. "I'm very proud of you, Daniel."

Those were the last words he heard his father say. As the nurse escorted him from the room, he looked one last time at his father, struggling to speak, while doctors stood over him.

Meanwhile, the rocket lay crumpled in the arms of the great tree, the regret that would fill his life for years to come.

Chapter 4

Underwater

He realized he wasn't short of breath. He'd been underwater for several minutes but had not once lacked air. The silence also caught his attention. It was so quiet he could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat. _Where am I? And how did I get here?_

In his dream, Daniel was swimming below the surface of a kelp-covered lake. He was still wearing his sneakers and jeans, though the weight didn't slow him. As he pushed through a tangle of seaweed, a school of fish swam past and startled him. He grinned, embarrassed at being caught off guard by such harmless creatures, then swam forward, unsure of where he was going.

The lake had a lonely presence and Daniel suspected he was the first person to swim this water in a long time. He noticed the different types of fish—larger ones, smaller ones, bright-colored ones—all swimming with the current. He was simply another underwater inhabitant sharing the environment, and the thought of being "out of place" disappeared as he swam alongside the sea creatures.

More and more fish appeared until the water teemed with their different shapes and colors. It was a magnificent sight, a vast explosion of color and flurry. Daniel wished he had a camera but knew he'd always remember the images filling his sight. The water, he realized, was getting warmer. Before, it felt refreshingly cool, like a welcome hop through a sprinkler on a summer day. Now, it was noticeably hot, like being dunked in a Jacuzzi. He considered shedding some of his clothing, but the current increased and he couldn't still himself enough to do so. He saw his shoelaces loosely dragging through the water and recalled images of Joshua running to catch the bus.

Daniel looked back and saw that the fish, instead of drifting with the current, were hurtling through the water. It wasn't just fish, either. He saw a huge black ball caught in the drift. It looked like a giant version of the rubber-band ball his father kept on his work desk. He wondered what it was, until he realized it was a group of sea snakes tangled together. He tried to swim to help but couldn't control his direction.

The water had become a whirlpool and he was being sucked in. Daniel reminded himself to stay calm so he could think about this logically. He remembered a lesson his father gave him during a camping trip, when he taught Daniel to use a compass. "Most people get lost because they lose their heads and panic. If you stay calm, you'll always find your way."

But he was quickly heading toward whatever it was swallowing everything. Gone was the silence he previously enjoyed, and all he heard was the fury of the whirlpool—a great, noisy, slurping sound, like the last of a soda being sucked through a straw. A thick mass of seaweed slapped against his face, temporarily blinding Daniel. As he reached for the ensnaring kelp, he heard a terrifying sound, one that pierced him with its ominous tone—and its familiarity. Daniel looked up at the face he saw on the bus.

It was almost a hundred feet tall. Its skin was pallid and sickly, with dark colors streaked across in random directions, resembling tributaries branching from a great river. Where there should have been hair was a mass of thin, floating seaweed. The nose was craggy, as if large chunks had broken off over the years, while bubbles floated in and out of its cavernous nostrils. Where eyes should have been, there were black holes, with two reefs of sharp coral in their place. The appearance was corpselike, but the face was alive, a living cadaver sucking everything in sight—and Daniel was heading right into its open maw.

Daniel saw an eel spinning wildly in the water. Helpless, it gave a final shriek before succumbing to the blackness. Daniel looked once more at the pallid face. Its lips were milky purple and porcelain smooth. The teeth reminded him of old shark's teeth, fragmented in disparate places. The whirlpool made a loud whooooshhhh and pulled Daniel inside.

The jaws closed and everything went eerily quiet, like the quiet that comes in a horror movie before the bad guy jumps out from some dark recess and grabs the foolish, unsuspecting teenager. This was how Daniel felt, like the bogeyman was waiting behind the next corner for him.

The violent pull of the whirlpool slowed, allowing Daniel to observe his surroundings. He saw thousands of creatures floating past: the fish with their amazingly brilliant colors and designs; the sea snakes, tangled and seemingly injured; dozens of starfish, shellfish, sea turtles, and a couple of eels.

Daniel looked ahead. He recognized what he saw—it was a throat. Then he saw what looked like two huge caves, separated by a giant stalactite. He was heading straight for the uvula of the monster's throat. As he sped past, he tried to hold onto the hanging tissue but found it too slick. He shut his eyes and fell helplessly.

It was like tumbling down a waterfall with no boat. He was thrown head over heels multiple times and fell toward the bottom, where he was sure he would either crash upon the rocks or drown. Either way, Daniel knew he was about to die.

***

Joshua turned off the television. It wasn't the same watching his favorite show, _Treasures of Time_ , by himself. "Why did Daniel have to get himself grounded?" he grumbled. "He always watches it with me." He stuck his thumbs in his pockets and left the living room.

In the hallway, he had an idea. Brownies! He still had a couple hidden in the back of the refrigerator. "Score!" he said and ran for the kitchen.

He poured himself a glass of milk (spilling it over the rim) and jumped on the counter, where he sat eating his brownie and washing it down with the milk. Joshua ate slowly. This wasn't like supper, where he usually scarfed down his vegetables. Nothing against peas and carrots, but they were peas and carrots, and this was an extra-special, double-chocolate brownie. He took a bite and chewed slowly.

He kicked his feet on the counter and sat cross-legged. "Mmm, this is one of my best brownies ever." Joshua took a huge sip of milk, then thought for a second. It needs chocolate! He returned to the fridge for the syrup, squeezed some into his glass, and squeezed more. He looked at the glass, considering, then added more. "That ought to do," he said, nodding and stirring them together.

Joshua put down the spoon. A rush of feeling came over him. He didn't know what it was but felt a strong sense of worry. The single image that came to Joshua's mind was of Daniel. He dropped the glass and ran from the kitchen.
Chapter 5

Grandpa Tucker's House

"Daniel! Daniel! Wake up!"

The voice was faint, as if coming from far away. It seemed to come from the place that exists between sleep and dream—that lucid state where distinguishing between dream and reality is often difficult.

Daniel woke bathed in sweat with Joshua standing over him, shaking him and yelling into his ear to wake up. "I'm awake, Josh. Quit shouting, will you?"

Though he spoke gruffly to his brother, Daniel didn't mean it. He was glad to have left such a nightmare, and if his brother had to wake him by screaming, Daniel wouldn't complain. "Thanks," he added.

"You're welcome. I was just scared, that's all. You were shaking in your bed and sweating like crazy."

Daniel rubbed his eyes, trying to shed the heavy grogginess.

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about?" Joshua asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, Josh."

Daniel sat at the edge of the bed, straining to recall the last few seconds before he woke up. He was falling down the waterfall, or throat—or whatever it was—reaching for anything that might save him from hitting the bottom.

"Do you want some water, Daniel? I can get you some."

"Not now, Josh, please. Give me a minute."

"Okay, I'll get some water, anyway," said Joshua and left the room.

Normally, Daniel tried to forget his nightmares as quickly as possible. But for some reason, he needed to remember this one, if for nothing else than to put it behind him and never think of it again. He remembered swimming through the water with the eel and sea snakes. The image of the face, with the seaweed for hair, he saw as clear as day. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, which made him wince.

Joshua returned, carrying a cup of water and a glass of chocolate milk that looked to be three parts chocolate and one part milk. Daniel stood and went to grab his coat from the closet. He'd been cooped up in this lousy room for too long and needed some fresh air. He buttoned his coat and was putting on his sneakers when he noticed the wide-eyed expression on Joshua's face.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Are you sneaking out?"

"Don't tell mom," Daniel said, tying his shoelaces.

He'd learned to sneak out of the house long ago. There was a tree outside his window, with solid branches, that was great for climbing. He would shinny to the nearest branch, pull himself up to the roof, sneak across the balcony outside his parents' room, and jump to the backyard. He'd done it so many times he could do it in his sleep.

"Let me come," Joshua said. "Please, Daniel. Can I come, too?"

Daniel gave Joshua a scorching look and was about to tell him to buzz off when something stopped him. The thought of being alone didn't sound appealing and, for the first time in a very long time, Daniel wanted his brother to tag along.

"Whatever. If I don't let you, you'll probably tell Mom and I'll be grounded even more."

Joshua quickly dressed himself with whatever clothes he found. He looked like a mixed-up Rubik's Cube, with his red sweater decorated with reindeers, an orange coat, green corduroys, and some purple sneakers with zippers.

"Well, let's go, if you're done," said Daniel. Together, they snuck out the window and onto the nearest branch. Carefully crossing the roof, Daniel looked back to make sure Joshua was still there.

"This is cool," Joshua whispered (though it was a very loud whisper, almost enough to count as talking). Daniel couldn't help himself and laughed, then put a finger to his lips to hush his brother.

The curtains in their mother's room were half-drawn, so that served them well, leaving the boys somewhat hidden. They would be in view for a few seconds at most, so as long as they kept quiet they should be able to climb down the railing without any trouble. Joshua, however, was not tall enough for his feet to reach the fence. Daniel needed to lower Joshua the necessary distance to secure his footing, which put him in plain view of his mother, if she was in bed.

"Take my hands," he said.

Joshua held tightly to the balcony lattice. "I don't want to let go, Daniel."

"I've got you. It's fine. I won't drop you."

"You promise?"

Daniel shook his head, frustrated. "Yes. Now hurry up, okay? Mom could look over any second."

Joshua let go, surrendering to his brother's grasp. Daniel lowered him far enough that his feet caught hold of the railing and he was able to jump to the wet grass below. Daniel climbed over the railing and, without looking for the fence, jumped the entire way down, at least ten feet. He stumbled when he landed but quickly got up and brushed the dirt from his arms.

"That was awesome! Just awesome!" Joshua skipped alongside Daniel. "That was so cool, Daniel!"

Daniel smirked, as if to say, I do this all the time. It wasn't a big deal. But he turned away long enough to smile. That was pretty cool, he thought. No, that was really cool.

***

They walked in silence. The crisp outside air was calming. Daniel was glad to have his brother's company. He thought of Joshua waking him from the nightmare, the concern on his face; bringing him a glass of water; climbing over the balcony when they snuck out of the house. When he wasn't getting on Daniel's last nerve, Joshua could be a pretty cool brother.

Their house was nestled on several acres of land near a bluff, surrounded on the other side by woodlands. The boys had explored every inch of these woods. On countless summer nights, they played Capture the Flag or Jailbreak here with their friends.

They had all the trails marked, but there was one they knew best. It was off the gravel road and hard to find; someone driving past would never see it. The boys had to crawl through its entrance of briars and branches. The trail was three-quarters of a mile long, through shaved paths of thorns, and came out on their grandfather's property. From the trail's end, the boys could see the abandoned house in the distance.

The old house was spooky-looking at night. Many years had passed since anyone lived here. Although the property was still maintained, there was an unsettling feeling to the place. At night, with shadows dancing over its walls, the house possessed a spectral quality and Daniel thought many times it looked like the homes in the black and white movies he'd seen.

Daniel never knew his grandfather, who died before he was born. What he knew of his grandfather he'd pieced together from stories his father told him. His grandfather Tucker moved to Grisby as a young man, worked hard, and built this house on the town's southernmost bluff. He fell in love with a woman named Virginia, married her, and had one child—Daniel's father, Joel. Virginia passed away when Joel was young.

Aside from these basic facts, Tucker remained a mystery. People remembered him as a fiercely private man, somewhat of a loner but loyal to his family and small number of friends. "He was true to his word," Daniel often heard. "If you were his friend, you were his friend for life."

The house, Daniel thought, was a good reflection of its builder—mysterious and detached, standing alone, but also strong and secure, holding its ground.

The boys passed the cracked concrete planter and the old fishpond, years since sealed. "Are you cold?" Daniel asked. It was chilly, but the walking had warmed him.

"I'm okay," Joshua answered. "This place is a little creepy."

"Tell me about it." Daniel threw a pebble into the forgotten garden. "I like it, though."

There was a creepy feel to the place. When he was younger, Daniel felt he was entering another world when he explored the house. The house wasn't well insulated, and when Daniel ran up the stairs to the guest room, he grew excited hearing the rattle of the old radiator. Inside the bedroom, there were two separate attics.

The smaller attic was less familiar to Daniel—something about it made him uneasy. It was too quiet and the planks creaked with each step. The room was boarded up in spots and mothballs covered the floor. There was one lamp, hanging from the corner ceiling, and when lit, it cast ghostlike shadows across the floor.

He preferred the larger attic. The room was filled with all sorts of family heirlooms, dusty photo albums, books, and a rusted-out train set. Daniel's favorite part of the attic was a set of three chests, each containing elaborate old-time costumes, as if they belonged to an actor whose life revolved around the theater. There were costumes of all sorts: military uniforms; Egyptian robes and tunics; a medieval Renaissance wardrobe; and clothing for sailors and pirates, witches and wizards, physicians and nurses.

***

The moon was hidden behind the clouds, making it hard for the boys to see, as they walked the cobbled path leading to the arboretum. In its heyday, this garden was the jewel of their grandfather's estate.

The path was a narrow walk, surrounded by trees and bushes on both sides. The bushes were overgrown so as to form an archway overhead. Even in daylight, walking the pathway to the gardens was an isolating experience for Daniel, like he was detached from the rest of the world. In darkness, this journey became dreamlike, as if he were one of the characters in the haunted stories he heard.

They reached the cast-iron gate at the entrance. It creaked loudly as Daniel pushed it open. It was the first sound, other than their footsteps, they'd heard in a while and the sudden noise was startling. Joshua hesitantly followed his brother into the faded garden.

The farther they walked, the slower Joshua followed. This was bringing back bad memories and he wished Daniel would slow down—slow down or at least go the other way. But he knew that wouldn't happen. Daniel had that look on his face, and whenever he got that look, it meant nothing Joshua said was going to change his mind. The worst part was that Daniel was heading in the direction of the mausoleum. Joshua didn't like it, not one bit.

The last time he'd seen that awful, nasty place was the Sunday game of hide-and-seek. It started out fun. Joshua found his mom first. Her pant leg was showing from behind a stone planter, and he easily snuck up and tagged her. He found Daniel next. He was usually the hardest to find, but this time he hid in a tree he'd recently climbed and Joshua spotted him on one of the nearest branches. He tagged him, then he and Daniel went to look for their dad.

His dad wasn't a good hider and they often spotted him in a matter of minutes. But this time, he wasn't in any of his usual places. They must have looked for half an hour with no luck.

"Mom," Joshua said. "Do you know where Dad is hiding?"

"I didn't see him. I was busy hiding."

"He must have found the best spot of all time, huh, Daniel?" Joshua turned to his older brother, but there was no answer. Daniel was gone. "Daniel. Where'd you go?"

He was about to call again when he spotted Daniel at a distance, walking near the western ridge of the grounds, toward the mausoleum. The boys had one rule—no hiding in that area. It was creepy-looking and gave Joshua the shivers. "We forgot to tell Dad the rules of the game," he said, half-heartedly trotting after Daniel.

The mausoleum was made of uneven stone, with four evenly spaced, engraved spires at the top. There was a stairway leading up to the door, but Joshua had no intention of ever climbing those steps, not since his parents told him what was inside. Now his brother was breaking the biggest rule of hide-and-seek and going in.

"This really stinks," Joshua said under his breath. He wanted to follow but couldn't bring himself to go near the place. "Daniel!" he called, but there was no answer. "This really, really stinks" he added, this time a bit louder.

Minutes later, Daniel and his father came through the door of the mausoleum. "You're not supposed to go in there," Joshua shouted. "That's the one rule of hide-and-seek!"

As he approached the mausoleum, Daniel glanced at his brother, lagging behind. "Hurry up, Josh. What are you waiting for?"

"I don't like this anymore, Daniel. Can we go home now?"

"What, are you chicken? Don't be such a baby."

"Please, Daniel. Can we go back?"

Daniel was about to mock him with chicken clucks but noticed his brother seemed frozen in his steps. Something about it made Daniel pause before teasing him. "Okay," he said. "We'll go back."

"Thanks, Daniel."

"Yeah, well, I figure I owe you one, even though you are a chicken." Daniel clucked like one. "Bakkk bhakkk bakk bhhhakkkkkk."

"Quit teasing," Joshua said and jabbed him in the arm.

The boys walked home. Joshua had to run to match steps with Daniel, which left him short-winded. "If you could have any superpower (huff), what would it be?"

"That's easy. I'd be invisible. I'd be able to sneak up on anybody."

"Not me," Joshua boasted and threw imaginary punches in the air. "I'd be able (huff) to beat up anyone in the galaxy."

"Yeah, but what if there was more than one person wanting to fight you? You can't fight them all."

Joshua puzzled over this for a few seconds. He smiled and proudly said, "I'd be strong enough to beat them all up at the same time."
Chapter 6

Eddie Maupin

Daniel felt strong this morning, the best he had in weeks. The late night adventure had done wonders for him. He also felt good enough to ride the bus again, which was good because he was bringing his history project to class and couldn't carry it to school.

Outside, the sun was peeking through the clouds. Daniel enjoyed the spring season. There was a feeling of freshness, and after a winter of constant rain and cold, it was a welcome relief from the dreariness and brought an anticipation that long summer days were on the way.

Joshua burst through the front door wearing the same clothes he wore during last night's escapade—a Rubik's Cube on the move! Daniel laughed out loud. "Are you crazy? You can't wear that to school."

"What? It was the first thing I found when I was getting dressed. Is there something wrong?"

"You're either crazy or colorblind. Whatever the case, let's go."

"Well," said Joshua, examining his outfit, "I like it."

They walked to the bus stop, slower than normal. Daniel's project was heavy and carrying it made him sweat.

"Your project is so cool," Joshua said. "I bet it's the best one in the whole class."

"Thanks. It better be. I worked for three weeks on this thing."

"Heck, yeah, it will be. It's super awesome."

***

Daniel was careful to store his project in a safe spot in the classroom, as he didn't want anyone getting a sneak peek before his presentation that afternoon. He wanted everything to be perfect, and that included top secrecy.

The California Gold Rush began in 1848 at Sutter's Mill, a sawmill outside the Sacramento area. On January 24, a foreman at the mill found shiny pieces of metal on the waterwheel that turned out to be gold. John Sutter, the mill's owner, tried to keep the discovery secret, but a local journalist caught wind of it and broadcast the finding in his newspaper. Soon, waves of immigrants from around the world, called forty-niners, moved to the Gold Country, and squatters invaded Sutter's land and stole his crops and cattle, leaving him broke.

Daniel had meticulously detailed the events, from the discovery at Sutter's Mill to the arrival of the forty-niners to the effects of the Gold Rush on the cities of that region, Sacramento and San Francisco. He built a replica waterwheel from coat hangers and paper mache, made illustrations describing the process of panning for gold and, what was his favorite part, painted several rocks with gold paint. He spent hours collecting the perfect rocks to use, even painting a few to represent pyrite, known as "fool's gold."

Daniel checked to make sure nothing was broken, fastened the case securely, and went to his first class of the day.

***

The morning passed like any other, uneventful and trouble-free, which was fine with Daniel. He'd experienced enough drama in his life lately. When Brad Sherman stuck Daniel's textbook together with wet chewing gum, he didn't get mad. It felt good to be teased again. When Shelley Ferguson asked him to pass a note to Abbie Jenkins, he didn't protest. He didn't even mind when a fifth grader stole his seat at lunch. Typically, he'd explain to the fifth grader that this was his seat ("No, my name's not engraved on it. It's just understood"), but instead Daniel let the younger boy have it and found a seat at the end of the table (though if he tried it again, Daniel would put him in his place).

The cafeteria had a specific seating order. The younger kids sat along the far walls, while the older kids sat closer in. For Daniel and his friends, it was a rite of passage. They were sixth graders now and ran the school. Joshua sat with the other third graders along the side wall.

Daniel rarely spoke to Joshua at school. Occasionally, he saw Joshua sitting at his table, building a tower of tater tots and squirting mustard or ketchup down the sides, but he usually ignored him. The truth was Joshua embarrassed him and Daniel wished they went to different schools. He couldn't wait for the day it actually happened.

The boys finished their lunches and were standing to leave when Brad noticed a commotion near the far entrance. "Daniel, man, isn't that your little brother?"

Oh, no, what did he do now? Daniel stood on his chair to get a better view. It was Joshua, all right. It was impossible to miss him with the ridiculous outfit he was wearing. Then he saw Eddie Maupin.

Eddie was the school bully. He'd been in Daniel's class last year but got held back and was doing his second tour of duty in fifth grade. He was a first-class jerk and obviously got a kick out of picking on younger, smaller kids. Eddie and his flunkies were playing keep-away with Joshua's bright orange coat.

"What's wrong, little Braden? Are you going to cry?"

Joshua was on the verge of tears. "Give it back, Eddie. Give me my coat back!"

"Who dresses you, baby Braden? You look like a human box of Skittles." Eddie waved the coat in the air, as Joshua unsuccessfully tried to grab it. "Little Skittles, little Skittles. Are you colorblind, little Braden? You look like a rainbow."

A crowd had gathered. Some laughed at Joshua, while others yelled at Eddie and his jerk friends to stop picking on him, but no one stepped up to challenge the bullies. They knew, once someone confronted Eddie, that person became his next target, so no one did anything until Daniel shoved his way through the crowd.

"Give him the coat back." Daniel looked Eddie squarely in the eye. "Give it back now." Joshua wiped a tear from his eye and smiled.

With everyone watching, Eddie wasn't about to let himself be shown up, so he bullied up to Daniel. "What are you going to do about it, Braden?"

Daniel didn't budge. "Give it back, Eddie."

"Are you going to fight me over a stupid coat?" Eddie appeared a little nervous now. Daniel wasn't backing down, and he saw Stevie and Brad standing nearby.

"If that's what it takes, yeah. I'll fight you."

Eddie handed the coat to Joshua, but not before giving Daniel a seething look. "This ain't over, Braden. You'll get yours when you're least expecting it." Eddie stormed off, his buddies following closely behind.

Daniel turned to Joshua. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks, Daniel."

"Don't mention it. You pick on one Braden, you pick on us all."

"Heck, yeah, that's right! You pick on one of us, you pick on us all!"

They left the cafeteria together, the brave sixth grader and the younger brother dressed like a box of Skittles.

"You were awesome back there," Joshua said, then frowned and looked worried. "Did he mean what he said, that it wasn't over between the two of you?"

"He's all talk. Just a lot of hot air."

Joshua breathed a sigh of relief and said, "You're the best big brother in the world."

Daniel tried to keep a straight face but cracked a smile. "You're all right, too, for a human Skittle."
Chapter 7

Sabotage

The classroom was buzzing with excitement. It was nearing the end of the day and the students had been waiting all afternoon to give their presentations.

Each student was required to pick a famous event in California's history. Some of them, Daniel noticed, had gone to extremes on their projects, making them elaborate and detailed—and big. One boy made a complete replica of the first transcontinental railroad built in the late 1800s, and it took up three desk's space. Daniel recognized many of the projects: the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and a history of earthquakes in California. One student even constructed paper mache oil derricks and poured dark corn syrup to look like oil.

Stevie was next to go. His project detailed the Missions of California. Daniel had been to his home dozens of times when he was working on it and knew it as well as his own. Twenty-one California missions were built between the late 1700s and early 1800s. They spread out along the Royal Highway, near the coastline, and brought the first non-Native Americans to California. Stevie's project featured a replica of Mission San Luis Rey built out of everything from fishing wire to ice-cream sticks.

Daniel could tell Stevie was nervous. Being best friends for so many years, he knew Stevie's tell-tale giveaways—the eye twitch, tapping foot, and hesitant speech. "Mission ... San Luis Rey ... uh," Stevie told the class, "was built in ... uh ... 1798." His voice cracked. "It is ... uh ... considered ... the King of the Missions of California ... and is ... uh ... now a National Landmark."

Daniel could only shake his head. Stevie was one of the coolest guys he knew but wasn't going to be a public speaker when he grew up, that was for sure. Stevie finished and the class applauded softly. He took his seat next to Daniel, who gave him a thumbs-up, whispering, "Good job, man."

Stevie wiped sweat from his forehead. "I'm glad that's over. I was nervous up there."

"Well, if you were nervous, it didn't show."

"Really?"

"No, I'm kidding. You made me nervous just watching you."

"Thanks a lot, jerk," Stevie said and punched Daniel in the leg. Then he appeared to remember something. "Hey, where were you at recess this morning? I looked everywhere for you."

"What are you talking about? I was out on the quad."

"I was there, too, but didn't see you anywhere."

Daniel thought of recess that morning. That's weird, he realized. He couldn't remember what he'd done but felt certain he must have been there. He ignored it and finished rehearsing his speech.

***

"The Great California Gold Rush of 1848 began at a place called Sutter's Mill ..."

Daniel had made four rows of rocks, all painted gold, securing them with an all-purpose adhesive from the craft store. He used labels to describe each of the gold nuggets and fastened metal clips to the carrying case so it could be easily lifted off.

"The purpose of my project," he told the class, unfastening the clips, "is to describe the history of the Gold Rush, the sociological and economic importance of the event, and to describe the relevance the Gold Rush has to this day."

Daniel lifted the case, but that's as far as he got. His project had been sabotaged.

The tops and sides of the rocks were coated with thick black paint, while the wood foundation dripped with white paint. The descriptions on the labels had been crossed out. He'd been so proud of his display and knew he would get an "A" for presentation and content. Nobody knew more about the Gold Rush than he did—and now it was ruined.

He wanted to explode. Why would someone do this to him? And why did they target only him? "Who did it?" Daniel shouted. "Tell me now, who did this?"

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The other students had never seen him act like this before.

"Daniel," Mr. Brunson said. "Calm down right this minute."

"I won't calm down. Not until someone tells me who destroyed my project."

Mr. Brunson stepped out from behind his desk. "You will calm down or go straight to the principal's office."

Daniel couldn't bring himself to look at the ruined project and the paint splattered over it. Someone had crossed the line with this prank, and he wasn't going to let anything, not even stupid Mr. Brunson, stop him. He ripped apart a handful of rocks and held them in his fist, and that's when it hit him—he knew who'd done it.

"Daniel," Mr. Brunson ordered. "Take your seat right this second."

Eddie Maupin! Of course, it had to be Eddie. How could he have been so stupid and not realized it? Eddie had threatened him a couple of hours ago.

Something snapped inside him and Daniel went into a rage, yelling uncontrollably. The other students, quiet until now, grew excited. Mr. Brunson was losing control of his class in a hurry. "Daniel, you're coming with me to the principal's office right now."

"I hate him," Daniel said. "I hate him. I hate him!" He lifted his project into the air. "I hate this stupid class, I hate the Gold Rush of 1848, and I hate this stupid project." With that, he slammed the model to the ground, smashing it to pieces.

His classmates shouted while Mr. Brunson tried one last time. "Dan—" he started to say but was interrupted by the bell. The students stood to leave, but Daniel had already bolted out the door.

Daniel shoved Eddie into the locker. "Why did you do it?" Eddie was caught off guard and fell backwards. "I'm not afraid of you, Eddie."

A crowd quickly gathered. Eddie regained his balance and pushed back. "I don't know what you're talking about, Braden. I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, right, I'm sure," Daniel shouted. Some of his spit caught Eddie in the face. Anger flashed in Eddie's eyes. He didn't put up with getting spit on, especially when others were watching. He pushed Daniel again, harder this time so that Daniel fell. "I told you I didn't do anything, so drop it, Braden."

Daniel didn't like being embarrassed in front of friends, either. He scrambled to his feet and lunged at Eddie, who met him with a tackle. While the other students cheered and yelled, the two boys wrestled each other to the floor. The corridor brimmed with the frenzy of the fight, as well as the raised voices of those running to join the fray. Neither Daniel nor Eddie was able to gain an edge on the other, until Daniel landed a right hand to Eddie's face. Eddie touched his lip with his tongue to check for blood, then charged at Daniel with relentless fury.

The crowd formed a tight wall around them so it was tough to see from the back, and a few of the shorter students stood on tiptoes to get a better view. Shouts of "Go, Daniel" and "You can take him, Braden" filled the hallway (Eddie wasn't exactly the most well-liked guy in school) until interrupted by Mr. Brunson and Coach Durbin, the burly football coach who doubled as a geography teacher and, for the moment, a bouncer. The two men shoved their way forward and separated Eddie and Daniel, who continued to shout at each other.

***

Daniel's mother, Emi, didn't speak on the drive home from school. Daniel was glad for the silence. The last thing he needed right now was to be yelled at. Yeah, he'd gotten in a fight. Yeah, he'd gotten suspended. And, yeah, he'd probably be grounded until he was old and gray. He just wanted those few moments of silence before the inevitable storm slammed down on him.

It was a weird mix of emotions he was experiencing. He was still really mad—at Eddie; at Mrs. Morris, who'd been completely unreasonable when she suspended him, not even letting him give his side of the story; at Mr. Brunson, of course, who was his favorite teacher (not anymore!); and mostly at himself. He'd lost control, and it upset him. Stupid Eddie, he thought. It's all his fault.

Until then, Daniel's way of dealing with trouble was by ignoring it. Keep pushing it out of your mind and things will eventually straighten themselves out, right? After all, doesn't "time heal all wounds?" That's what his lousy teacher was so fond of saying. It must be true, right?

He was frightened and didn't understand what was happening. Was he finally tripping off the deep end—going crazy? Was this how it began? Seeing things that nobody else saw. Having nightmares, getting these stupid headaches—and now this.

Why can't things go back to the way they were? Why did Dad have to die? Why do terrible things happen? It makes no sense. Who's going to play pitch with me now? Who's going to take me camping? Who will teach me how to drive?

The car pulled into the driveway. Joshua was the first out. Emi took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. "Plan on being grounded for a long, long time," she told Daniel, then stepped out of the car.

Chapter 8

Branches

Daniel stuck out his tongue and mocked his mother's words. "Plan on being grounded a long, long time _._ " He waved his finger from side to side, mimicking her. "And don't come out of your room until supper. I want you to think about what you've done."

Banished to his room. It was getting to be an everyday occurrence. Is that the best she can come up with? He grabbed a handful of rubber bands and took target practice at a plastic cup on his storage hutch. I'm glad to be away from her.

He designed a car jump out of a cardboard box and drove his remote control Maserati off it. There isn't any place I'd rather be. He picked up his out-of-tune ukulele and plucked two its strings (screeeech!). I don't need to think about what I've done. He did a reverse dunk on his Nerf hoop. I don't need them. I don't need anybody.

After twenty minutes, having played with every toy, flown every plane, and crashed every car, he was bored. He lay on his bed and, contrary to what he intended, followed his mom's advice and contemplated what he'd done. He remembered what Mrs. Morris said and it made him cringe. "I'm shocked, Daniel. This is so unlike you. You've always been such a respectful young man."

She called him a young man. That's what hurt more than anything else—more than the ruined project, the bruise on his eye, the suspension, or being grounded. She spoke to him with respect and he didn't deserve it. His principal was right, it was unlike him to act this way. But then he realized he'd been acting unlike himself for a long time. Ever since I started losing my mind.

He pulled a yellow balloon from his desk and blew it up. "This is Daniel's brain," he said, loosening his grip to let air seep out. "This is Daniel's brain turned to mush." He squeezed out the remaining air and threw the balloon against the wall. "I'm not going to sit around and go crazy," he said, grabbing his pullover and climbing out the window.

***

Daniel hadn't walked past the oak tree since that day. He longed to have the moment back, when he stormed off alone in the rain, angry at his father for being late. He wondered if it would haunt him the rest of his life.

The sun would be setting soon, so Daniel hurried his pace as he walked to the field. Seeing the tree in the distance, he hesitated. He remembered the last time he was here, how the rain started to fall. He remembered his mother asking him to invite Joshua and how he refused. He remembered the launch, how the rocket veered off course into the limbs of the old oak. Daniel put his head down and kept walking.

The rocket was higher than he remembered; it would be a hard climb. He looked around and spotted the launch pad in the distance, then ran to collect it. He didn't want to leave anything behind.

***

The limbs were smaller and increasingly farther apart, and Daniel scraped his arms struggling to reach the branches. He saw the silver shape of the rocket ten feet above and kept going until it was finally within reach.

Daniel carefully extracted it from the branches, turned it over, and examined its parts. The parachute was still stuffed inside, the wings were mangled and torn, and the decals had come off, but all in all, it was in good shape. They'd done a nice job assembling it.

Daniel looked around. It was Grisby as he'd never seen it—from a bird's-eye view. He looked out over the ocean; the sun reflecting off the water created a brilliant sheen. An old fishing trawler was coming in to dock, and the fishermen were bringing up the nets. He saw shapes in the distance and squinted to see them better. "Awesome," he yelled. "A school of dolphins." The dolphins disappeared in the waves then emerged again, while seagulls flew over them. They looked so peaceful, Daniel thought. He watched them, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a dolphin, until they disappeared from view.

From his perch, he saw the houses lining the bluff. I wonder what Stevie's doing right now. I bet he's either jumping on the trampoline or in his room playing video games. I know he's not doing homework. He always waits until the last minute to do that.

He saw the familiar RV parked in the McCormick's driveway. "Eeeewwwww!" he said and made an unpleasant face. Mrs. McCormick was watering her lawn in one of those old-lady muumuu dresses. He wished he could yell loud enough so that she heard him. He'd tell her to take the rollers out of her hair and put on something less frumpy. "Seriously, that is so gross. Put on some pants, please."

Nestled in the tree, he found his spirit revived. It was as if he'd gotten away from his own small world at home and was getting a glimpse of a bigger picture, one where his own concerns didn't seem as important. For a few moments, he was able to forget about the bad dreams and the fights with his mom. He was able to see from a different perspective, and it was a welcome change.

He turned to the south and looked over his grandfather's sprawling estate. Most of his friends' grandparents were still alive, and whenever he heard his friends talk of them, Daniel couldn't help but wish he'd known his. He imagined his grandmother Virginia to be strong and independent. He pictured her with chestnut hair, fair skin, and always wearing a dress. He liked to imagine her voice as soothing and warm.

He knew his grandfather Tucker was confined to a wheelchair during the final years of his life, but imagined him to be as hard-working then as he was during his youth. There was only one picture Daniel had seen of him, taken as a young man. His eyes were piercing and raven-black.

In the photo, his grandfather was not smiling. He appeared to be caught up in his thoughts and unaware a snapshot was being taken. The photo always fascinated Daniel, as he related to that feeling of being lost in thought and needing moments of introspection. He believed if his grandfather were still alive, they'd share a special bond.

From his spot in the tree, Daniel saw the fishpond; the cracked planter; the house, mysterious even from up this high; and the gardens in the arboretum. Something caught his attention. Daniel shut his eyes, then opened them again.

"Whoa, that's strange," he said, staring at the family mausoleum. "Big-time déjà vu."

The four spires of the mausoleum were wide at the base, narrowing to their point, and carved in spirals. With the sun shining on the stones, the spirals appeared to be moving in circles, forming upside-down tornado clouds.

This was more than déjà vu, Daniel realized. He'd seen this image recently. But where? Was it at Granddad Tucker's house? He tried to recall everything about the house—the creaky stairs, attics, and antique chests. He grew frustrated; it bugged him when he couldn't remember things. He studied the spires. They were inlaid with light-colored stones, and the reflection of the setting sun gave them a water-like appearance.

Water-like ...

Daniel remembered where he'd seen it and instantly wished he could forget. It was during his nightmare of the lake and the horrible face that swallowed him—that's what he was trying to remember after Joshua woke him. It all came rushing back. In the dream, he was falling down the creature's throat. Water engulfed him. He was either going to drown from the torrent or crash upon the rocks. Either way, he was doomed. All he could do was wait it out.

Daniel looked through the water and saw four shapes not too far off in the distance—spirals of water, equal in size, forming upside-down tornado clouds. Their undulating rings had a hypnotic effect and the water glistened like crystal. Near the base, the spirals appeared metallic and solid, bleeding their color as they rose to the apex.

A red light appeared and covered everything in sight. It came closer, stopping within a few feet of him, then dimmed. Daniel lowered his hands and saw the figure of a man.

The man was turned so his face was hidden. He wore a cloak made of heavy black cloth, its sleeves long enough to cover the palms of his hands. At sleeve's end was a shiny gold band. Daniel heard the water gushing, but it was distant to him now, as if he were trapped inside a tunnel. The man lowered his arms and the light disappeared. He covered his head with the hood of his cloak, then turned and walked away.

Daniel swayed gently on a branch of the tree, holding the rescued rocket in one hand and the tree trunk with the other, trying to make sense of what was going on. _It has to be a coincidence_. _I'm seeing things. It's the sun reflecting off the stones, creating a weird illusion_.

The denial gave him comfort and put his mind at ease. He needed to climb down, as he was going to be late for supper. However, turning for one last glance of the old mausoleum, he knew he wasn't crazy or imagining things.

It wasn't the sun reflecting off the stones. The spiraling steeples and waterfall in his dream, the face on the bus, the ruined history project—they were not merely singular, random events he could sweep from his mind. He had to see for himself.

Chapter 9

Illiana

The heavy iron door creaked as he entered the tomb and stood among the graves of his ancestors. His flashlight projected an isolated beam of light across the room. "What am I doing in here?" Daniel whispered. "I must be crazy."

Daniel wasn't someone who frightened easily. He could stay up late on Saturday nights and watch scary movies without once turning on the lights. But this was different. He was alone in a tomb, surrounded on both sides by the burial chambers of dead people. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Come on, Daniel, you can do this," he told himself, his voice a bit stronger.

He'd been inside the mausoleum three times in his life. The first time, his father brought him here for one of his history lessons. "I want you to know the story of your family name," he said.

"Can't I learn about it someplace that isn't so creepy?" Daniel replied.

The second time was the Sunday picnic game of hide-and-seek. It was the middle of the day, and he was playing a game—he wasn't the least bit nervous. He entered and saw his father, but his father wore a trance-like expression on his face and didn't recognize him. Daniel called to him, and his father snapped out of whatever it was he was thinking about and smiled at Daniel.

The third time was the funeral. Joshua refused to come, so he and his mother entered alone. He'd never had anyone in his life die before and was struck with a terrible realization. During his first two visits to the mausoleum, he'd known what was inside the marble walls. But he never really knew, deep in his gut, until his father's funeral. He stood, holding his mother's hand, and stared at the slab of marble on which his father's name was inscribed, wishing that this was a bad dream. More than anything, he wanted to wake up and find himself on the front lawn playing pitch with his father, while Josh and his mother ran barefoot through the sprinklers.

A tear fell from his eye. Daniel was standing in front of the tomb of his father. "Joel Braden," read the marker. His father lay an arm's length away. Daniel would never see him again.

He stood by the casket for several minutes. He wanted to reverse the days and steal back the memories. This time, he wouldn't be angry at his father or storm out of the house. Daniel wiped the tear from his eye. It was getting late, and he needed to move on. His mother would wring his neck if she caught him sneaking out.

He shined the light upon each tomb until he came to one that caught his eye, one bearing the name "Illian." He didn't recognize the name, nor had he heard his father speak of anyone by this name. There was an inscription on the face of the tomb, grown faint over time, but still readable:

Illian,

A sensible man will remember that the eyes may be confused in two ways—by a change from light to darkness or from darkness to light; and he will recognize that the same thing happens to a soul. ~ Plato

I have always followed the light.

Daniel pondered these words. What did they mean, and who had written them? He noticed the chamber next to Illian's was the same in shade and design. "Illiana." There was no date, no inscription. Just the name.

"Illian and Illiana," he whispered. "I wonder if they were brother and sister." Why was there an inscription on Illian's grave but not Illiana's? Could Illiana have written it? He reread the inscription—I have always followed the light. He ran his fingers over those words. "What light are you talking about, Illiana?"

Illiana. There was something about the name that intrigued him. It sounded so ... ancient, but at the same time so elegant. He whispered her name again, speculating on who she was. He thought for a second he felt a gust of wind blowing across his face but quickly dismissed the idea. He was inside a sealed room, one built to protect from outside elements.

He read the quotation from Plato again. The eyes may be confused in two ways—by a change from light to darkness or from darkness to light.

He remembered the first time his father took him cave exploring, and the shock that came with the sudden change from light to darkness. Soon, he adjusted to the darkness and they spent the night inside the cave with little difficulty, navigating by headlamps. Upon leaving, his father turned to him and said, "First comes the shock, then the glow." Daniel didn't understand what that meant, but as he stepped into the daylight, he found out. The brightness was blinding and he shut his eyes tightly. However, after a few minutes, he was able to appreciate the sunlight like never before.

The memory was cut short. This time, he was sure—wind was blowing inside the mausoleum. His arms were cold and his hair blew gently. Daniel searched the room, looking for cracks in the wall. He knew it was only wind, but something about it, coupled with the overall spookiness of the room, unsettled him.

"I think it's time to get the heck out of here," he said, and was heading for the door when he felt the ground move under his feet. "Whoa! What the heck is going on?" Again, the ground shook. Earthquake?

He recalled the history presentations. One girl did her project on California earthquakes, specifically in the Northern California area. She told the class that Grisby was near a fault line ripe for earthquakes. Daniel had never experienced one and wondered if this one was almost over, or whether it had just begun. Something told him it wasn't close to being over.

The floor cracked, splintering in every direction. The sides of the building broke; chunks of stone fell around him. The mausoleum, Daniel realized, was collapsing, and he could only pray he wouldn't be buried under its rubble. He curled up in a ball and hid his face from the falling rocks.

***

How could he explain what he saw when he raised his head and opened his eyes? Words couldn't paint an accurate picture.

He was standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The sound of the cresting waves filled the air, and somewhere in the distance he heard a crow shriek. The setting sun filled the sky with rich, glowing tones. Daniel wondered if this was what Heaven looked like. Then he saw them. Statuesque against the backdrop of the sea were three dark figures, all wearing magnificent robes.

The younger of the two men wore a heavy countenance. His smooth skin and pale complexion gave him a youthful appearance that, perhaps, disguised his true age. His eyes seemed much older than his slender frame suggested. The older man, by comparison, exuded the composure that comes with advancing years. His skin was weather-beaten, his robe tattered and well worn. He studied the landscape with a reflective stare, as if preparing to say goodbye to something.

But it was the woman who held Daniel's attention. She couldn't have been much older than the young man but appeared to possess the decisiveness of his counterpart. As she stood at the cliff's edge, Daniel noticed the grace with which she moved. Seeing her long, black hair and turquoise robe flowing behind, he was reminded of childhood stories involving the beautiful princess—the one who fights evil siblings, captivates the hearts of princes, and eventually becomes queen.

A deep solemnity surrounded them, and Daniel felt guilty witnessing such a private moment. He wasn't sure if they recognized him or not and was looking for a place to hide when the old man stepped forward and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"The fourth will come, Sebastian." The man spoke softly, yet Daniel could hear his words as if he were speaking directly to him. "This will not be done in vain."

***

It was impossible to tell where the sky ended and sea began. Daniel held onto a nearby stump as the ground trembled. His attention stayed focused on the woman floating over the ocean and the stone in her hand. When she'd stepped off the cliff, he cried out in fright. This woman, a portrait of strength and grace, was about to fall to her death. However, fear gave way to confusion and amazement when she walked across the sky. Even more alarming, she was now floating back to the cliff and looking in his direction.

As the lady approached, Daniel didn't know whether to run or hide. True, he considered her beautiful and kind. But this was still a woman with the power to glide through the air, and from whose hand shot a beam of light so powerful it shook the ground. Could this be Illiana? Daniel remembered the inscription: I have always followed the light. Well, if Illiana was looking for light, there was enough of it here to make everyone happy.

"Illiana?" he asked, surprised his voice didn't squeak.

The woman nodded slowly. Daniel didn't know whether he should bow or salute or what, so he did the first thing that came to mind—he waved! He waved to Illiana with a nervous and awkward "hello." She motioned for him to come forward. His first step was a tentative one, but Daniel gained courage with each step.

She was even more beautiful up close. When she smiled at Daniel, he saw slight wrinkles near her eyes and mouth. He remembered his mother once telling him, "Laugh lines are the first sign of a life lived happily."

Illiana's eyes were soft and welcoming, but in them Daniel saw a trace of sadness. This was a woman, he imagined, who smiled and laughed often; but this was also a woman who'd experienced great loss, whose eyes could not hide that truth. Daniel felt a strong kinship to her.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask. When and where she lived; all about her family; about Illian and how he died; about the two men standing with her on the cliff; and he really wanted to know how she did the cool trick of walking across the sky. But instead he remained quiet, as did she. Sometimes words get in the way. Illiana held up her hands and motioned for Daniel to take the stone. He hesitated, reluctant to accept such a gift, but understood by her expression this was not an offer to decline. He reached for the stone.

***

She was gone. It was all gone—the cliff, the sea, the two men. Daniel stood at the top of a dark, narrow stairwell. The mausoleum was still standing; it hadn't crumbled in an earthquake, and Daniel realized he was inside one of the spires of the building. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember was Illiana giving me ..." His voice trailed off.

Was it a dream? Was there no earthquake? No flying lady with a magic stone and turquoise robe? These doubts left him dejected. He wanted it to be true as much as he'd wanted anything in a long time. Daniel was so carried away with his thoughts that he failed to notice the velvet bag in his hands. What the—?

His heart pounded as he reached inside and pulled out the stone. Illiana was real, after all. Filled with relief, he smiled, the first time he'd done so since seeing the dolphins. He replayed the encounter in his mind, losing all track of time.

Minutes passed unnoticed, until Daniel realized he was facing a new challenge: how was he supposed to get out of this stairwell? There was no door or passageway; as far as he could tell, he was trapped inside. He tried banging on the wall—no luck. He used every magical password he knew (Open Sesame!), but again, no luck. He dropped to his knees and searched for a hidden lever that might trigger a door to open.

"This is useless," he said.

Daniel placed his fingers on the wall, imagining a safecracker in one of the old movies. The safecrackers always shut their eyes to concentrate better, so Daniel closed his and examined the wall with his hands, searching for anything unusual, any bump or scratch. He didn't know what he was looking for but was sure he'd know it when he found it.

He was tired and sweating, but he kept going and that's when he felt it—a cleft, a couple of inches deep, cut into the surface. Bingo! He pressed his thumb into the hole, fully expecting a door to appear out of nowhere. But nothing happened. "Rats!" he said, checking his watch. It was getting late and it ticked him off that he had to fret over silly matters like curfews and supper when there were more important issues at hand, such as meeting long-lost relatives and figuring out how to flee a mausoleum stairway. Doesn't Mom know I have better things to worry about than squash and lima beans?

He was tired and his muscles ached. His hair was drenched; he shook it out and rubbed the back of his neck. Hmmm—it was a simple thought. But a stupid one, he decided. It wasn't possible. "It is about the same size, though," he said, slipping the stone into the cleft and seeing it was a perfect fit. "It's not poss—" His words stopped short, as the wall rolled slowly back, giving him the passageway he desired.

Confused, relieved, and freaked-out, Daniel left the mausoleum. Running for home, he suspected there were many secrets about his family that nobody had told him. And he was determined to find out.
Chapter 10

The Onyx

It was a quiet dinner. Daniel assumed his mother was giving him the silent treatment, which was fine. His mind was far, far away from thoughts of broccoli, carrots, and the chicken nuggets on his plate. He couldn't wait to get back to the stone he found. Was it really real? Of course it was real, he told himself. He had the evidence right upstairs under his mattress. But why had Illiana given it to him, and what did it mean? He had to find out and practically inhaled the rest of his food.

Daniel entered his room, worried the stone would no longer be there, and hesitated for a split second. What if it was gone? Would that officially mean that, yes, he'd lost his mind? Or would it mean someone knew about his discovery and had broken in to steal it? His heart pounded as he lifted the corner of his mattress. It was still there—the blue velvet pouch beneath his covers. He hadn't lost his mind, at least not yet.

The sackcloth was like something he might see on Treasures of Time. He rubbed his hands over the soft velvet and felt the waxen texture of the gold-braided drawstring. Who would have owned such fabric? He envisioned a lady in an evening gown dancing at a formal ball, wearing long black gloves that reached past her elbows. Or perhaps it belonged to an English gentleman, who wore velvet riding spurs as he went foxhunting. Or maybe a knight in medieval times, whose tunic brought relief to him after he shed his armor for the day.

His imagination ran full throttle, as he quietly sang the theme song to his favorite TV show:

Tracing back the hands of time

Showers of a distant sand

The darkest caves long thought dead

Revealing foreign signs from forgotten lands

He liked that last phrase, "forgotten lands." There was something thrilling about discovering ancient secrets from forgotten places. It was like putting together a puzzle. Someone would find a small clue that put one piece in place and then look for the next one. The idea of secrets captured Daniel's imagination. Why did people with secrets leave clues for others to find years and years later? If their secret was so great, why didn't they shine a light on it and shout to the world, "Hey! Look what I have over here!" It almost stood to reason that those with secrets, the ones who leave hidden clues behind, were playing a game. Only they were playing with opponents separated from them by decades, centuries, or in some cases, millennia.

He carefully loosened the drawstring on the bag and brought out the stone. It was black and smooth to the touch. He realized he needed a better look, so he walked to his desk and switched on the lamp, not taking his eyes off the stone for a second. White speckles, almost like sugar granules, covered the surface.

A crazy idea came to mind. He'd seen the old movies, in which someone rubbed a golden lantern and—poof!—a genie appeared out of thin air. He'd seen the magicians on television that waved their magic wands and—presto chango!—a bunny scampered out of their hats. He laughed and shook the stone several times.

Nothing.

He shook it harder.

Nothing.

"Presto chango," he said, using his best Merlin impersonation, and waved the stone over his head.

Still, nothing. "Oh, well, it was worth a try."

He didn't recognize the type of stone. It looked like some kind of quartz but he'd never seen one like this before. "Oh, my gosh," Daniel shouted. He had seen rocks like this before and had seen them that very day—his history project. Someone painted his rocks in exactly the same way—a thick, black surface with speckles of white.

Daniel felt dizzy. For weeks, these bizarre events had intersected in strange ways, and each time he told himself it was a coincidence. He'd tried his best to arrange it all into a neat and tidy "normal box," where everything fit and was easily explained. After all, this was the real world and stuff like this didn't happen in the real world. However, it was growing more difficult with each day.

Maybe, Daniel thought, it was time to do away with his normal box. First order of business: he should find out what type of stone this was. And he knew the place to look.

***

The library smelled like books. Some libraries shelve a lot of books, but they don't have that smell. The smell was what separated the good libraries from the bad ones.

Once, his family took a trip to Portland for the weekend. Daniel and his father visited a famous bookstore in town: McGee's Books. It took up four city blocks and housed more titles than Daniel had ever seen. And they weren't new books like those he saw at the mall. They were old books with worn covers. First editions, original manuscripts—these type of books.

His dad had an awesome library. It wasn't the biggest around, but it looked and smelled like a real library. His father was never good at organizing. It used to drive his mother crazy, especially when it came to issues like family finances, as Joel never balanced the checkbook. The library wasn't much different, as there was no system of cataloguing. Hundreds of books on dozens of rows of shelves; it sometimes made finding a book more of an effort than actually reading it.

Daniel didn't mind. He actually liked it better this way. Sometimes, if he was looking for a book that wasn't well marked on the spine, he had to search every row until he found it—and it was almost always on the hardest-to-reach shelf. But he learned that if he had to search exhaustively for a book, it made it all the more worth it when he finally located it.

Whoa, that's cool. Maybe that's why people hide things and leave clues for others to find. They want the person who discovers their secret to appreciate it more.

Well, if he was going to appreciate this stone, he'd better find out what it was. He remembered seeing his father's book on rocks and minerals on one of the high shelves near his desk, so he started there. He stood on his father's rolling chair and wheeled to that section, pulling out books and dropping them on the floor.

He searched the rows, looking for large, hardback volumes. He pulled down several, opened them—nope, not the one!—and dropped them to the mound on the floor. He finally spotted it and, of course, it was on the hardest-to-reach shelf. He wheeled the chair to that section and reached for it, but it was beyond his grasp. He needed more height and considered what to do. Daniel looked up at the book, looked around the room, and then realized the answer was right below him.

Congratulating himself on his ingenuity, he retrieved his father's book on rocks and minerals and jumped down from the chair. All it had taken was standing on four volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica and he reached it with ease.

***

"This really stinks," Joshua said. "She was supposed to be here by now." He studied the picture on the puzzle box and scowled. He didn't want to work on it without her.

Ever since supper, something had been wrong. His mom and brother sat without saying a word. He'd never seen Daniel eat that fast before, as if he couldn't wait to leave the table and hide in his room.

"He'll probably yell at me if I go up there, but I'll go if I want. I don't care what he says. Why does he always pick on me?"

Joshua reached inside the box and separated the pieces. Peter Pan and the Lost Treasure of Neverland was a new puzzle and he'd looked forward to assembling it. If only his mom would hurry up.

The blank look on her face at supper troubled him. She stared into space almost the entire time and once, during the meal, Joshua asked her to pass the butter and she didn't hear him. "Mom," he asked again, "can you pass the butter?"

"What?" She looked confused. "Did you say something?"

"Can you pass the butter?"

"Oh." She snapped out of it and reached for the butter. "Here you go, Joshua."

That was it, though. The rest of the meal they spent in silence. After supper, he helped clear the table. "Mom," he said. "Is everything okay?"

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Everything's fine, Joshua."

Joshua managed a weak smile of his own, but his eyes told a different story. "Mom, can we do a puzzle after this?"

"Sure, honey," she answered. "Go set it up and I'll be there in a few minutes." That was over half an hour ago, and she still hadn't come.

Joshua grew more upset. It's like I'm either invisible to them or I'm a pest. He was tired of being ignored, of being seen as nothing more than a pesky kid. He felt no one took him seriously and it made him mad. "I'm part of this family, too."

They weren't the only ones who'd been through a hard time since the accident, but they acted like it. Anytime he brought up his dad, Daniel snapped at him and told him to shut up, while his mother gave him a phony smile and said everything was fine, when he knew it wasn't. "You're not the only ones who miss him," he yelled. "You're not the only ones."

The frustration inside him spilled over the edge. Joshua turned over the box of puzzle pieces, dumping all seven hundred and fifty on the carpet. He jumped high in the air and came down on a pile of them, breaking dozens with his feet. "I have feelings, too!" He broke piece after piece, digging his heels into the pile and grinding the pieces until they snapped. "Stupid Peter Pan. I hope Captain Hook catches you."

He grabbed as many pieces as he could and threw them across the room, then pounded the rest with his fists. "I have feelings, too, Daniel!" He tore the cardboard box into shreds and threw them against the wall. "I have feelings, too, Mom!" He ripped away the leftover pieces and kicked them with his feet.

The room was a mess. Seven hundred and fifty ruined puzzle pieces covered the floor. Joshua picked up one that didn't break and clutched it in his hand. "I have feelings too," he said calmly, still breathing heavily. He dropped the unbroken piece and left the room.

***

The stone was onyx. He'd found it under the "Minerals" section and identified it as a type of quartz.

Daniel turned the stone over in his hand, concentrating on its speckles of white. The photos he'd seen in the book were all non-speckled onyx. His fascination eventually got the best of him. He knew it was silly—it was just a rock—but he didn't care. If he was going crazy, he'd at least enjoy the ride. "Come on, do something," he said, standing up from the chair and holding the rock above his head. Again, he did his best Merlin impersonation. "Presto chango!" Daniel twirled around in a circle. "Abracadabra!"

He was too busy spinning around, growing dizzy, or he would have seen Joshua enter the room. Joshua was too startled at seeing his brother turning in circles and yelling, or he would have watched where he was stepping. As Daniel lost his balance, Joshua tripped forward. Colliding with each other, the boys crashed on the floor, knocking over the chair and landing on the pile of strewn books.

"What's your problem?" Daniel shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?"

This time, Joshua stood up to his brother. "I didn't sneak up on you. I heard you yelling all the way down the hall. And I'm tired of you picking on me all the time. I have feelings, too, Daniel."

Daniel looked at his brother with surprise. He saw the toppled chair, the mess of books, and the two of them lying on their butts in the middle of it all. He couldn't help laughing.

Joshua, when he stood up to his brother, didn't know if Daniel was going to beat him up or throw a book at his head. Instead, he was laughing. Joshua didn't know what to do, so he joined him and soon they were both laughing.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Daniel said.

"That's okay. I didn't mean to scare you like that."

"Don't worry about it. You should have seen your face right before you fell. It was too funny." Daniel did a quick impression of Joshua, wide-eyed and panicked.

"Well, you looked pretty funny yourself, all dizzy and stumbling. What were you doing, anyway? Why were you spinning like that?"

Daniel stopped laughing—the stone. It must have fallen out of his hands when he collided with Joshua. He looked around but didn't see it anywhere. He got on hands and knees and searched for it.

"Daniel, what are you looking for?"

Daniel didn't reply. He burrowed through the mounds of books, searching for the stone. Not there. He looked under the fallen chair. Not there, either.

"What is it, Daniel? What are you looking for?"

"I dropped something."

"What was it? I can help."

Joshua was nothing if not inquisitive. Well, it couldn't do any harm to let him help, Daniel decided. "It's a black stone about this big," he said, holding his fingers a few inches apart. Joshua joined him in the search, and together they scoured the room. Daniel was checking under the curtain at the window when Joshua shouted, "I think I found it!" He crawled out from under the desk, holding the stone above his head. "Is this it?"

"Awesome. Here, let me have it."

Joshua handed the stone to Daniel. "Is it a new rock for your collection?"

"Uh, you could say that."

Joshua didn't hear him; something else grabbed his attention. "Whoa," he said, pointing at the rock. "How did you do that?"

Daniel looked down but couldn't believe his eyes. The stone had come to life. It was glowing in his hand.

It was a faint light, almost like a flashlight shining from underneath a heavy blanket. The orb of light slowly increased in size from the stone's center, and Daniel felt his hand grow warmer as he held it.

"What is it?" Joshua leaned in for a closer look.

"I ... I don't know," Daniel struggled to answer. The light began to fade; in a matter of seconds, it disappeared, leaving a black onyx stone with speckles of white. Daniel's hand turned cool again.

"Wow," Joshua said. "That's the coolest thing I've ever seen. Can I hold it?"

Daniel didn't hear him. He was too busy trying to figure out what caused the stone to light up like that. Perhaps it was the jolt from their collision. Daniel shook the stone, but nothing happened. Perhaps if I use more force. He banged it against his leg. Hmmm, what can I use? He picked up one of the larger books on the floor and struck it against the rock. To his frustration, nothing happened.

He turned to Josh. "I want to make sure—you did see that, right?"

"Heck, yeah, I saw it. That was the single most awesome thing I've ever seen."

Daniel stood. "Well, then, keep this a secret between you and me." He dashed from the library, leaving behind a pile of strewn books, a toppled chair, and a confused brother, who remained sitting with a bewildered look on his face.

***

The evening air bristled with a cool breeze, and the few sounds to be heard came from the rustling of leaves and chirping of the crickets. The lone disruption to this calm and routine night came from a blue glow emanating from inside the old mausoleum.

The rusted door creaked when it was opened. Brilliant blue light poured through the doorway. A figure stepped into the night air. He slowly looked to his right, turned to his left, and walked forward into the darkness.

Chapter 11

Sneaking Out

Daniel held the phone to his ear, waiting for Stevie to answer.

"Hello."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Not much. Playing video games, about to go to bed."

"Can I come over for a few minutes? I want to show you something I found."

"Right now? Your mom will let you?"

"Are you kidding? I'm grounded longer than a plane with a broken wing. I have to sneak out. It's okay, though. My mom's getting into the bathtub. She always stays in there at least an hour with her candles and smelly sticks burning. I'll be there and back before she knows any different."

"What if she catches you?"

Daniel considered the question before answering. "She'll skin me alive, that's what. But this is really important, Stevie. I'll be there as soon as I can." Daniel hung up the phone. Two times in one day. I'm pressing my luck here.

Daniel had told no one about the strange events happening to him. He wasn't the type of person who shared things like that, but he had to tell someone and Stevie was just the guy. He put the stone inside the velvet bag, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the doorway, where he ran smack into Joshua.

Joshua looked scared. The quivering lip, the hangdog eyes—it was the same expression Daniel had seen time and time again over the years. It was the same look as when Joshua took his first swimming lesson and the instructor made him jump into the deep end of the pool; the same look as when he went on his first roller coaster ride at Sit & Scream and cried the entire time; and the same expression he got every time his parents left them at home with a babysitter.

"Daniel, I need to talk to you."

"Not now, Josh. We'll talk when I get back."

Joshua was almost crying. "Please, Daniel. I really need to talk."

Daniel walked ahead, but not before turning back to his brother. "We'll talk about it later. And don't say anything to Mom or I'll crush you like a soda can."

***

He snuck down the hallway to his mother's bedroom and, as quietly as possible, turned the doorknob. He gently pushed the door open, less than an inch, and put his ear to the crack. Water running—this was a good sign. She hadn't finished filling the tub yet. She'd be in there awhile.

The bathroom door was open a few inches and he saw her moving around. She wore her wooly pink robe and had wrapped a big white towel around her head. Daniel closed the door and moved slowly toward the stairs.

How many times had he crept down these stairs over the years? When he was younger, as part of a game they played, he'd run up and down the steps blindfolded, which made him learn to count the stairs. There were twelve in all. "Four, five ...," he whispered, closing his eyes for old time's sake. Watch the creaky spot on six. On seven, he opened his eyes and froze. His mother stood in the hallway at the foot of the stairs, still wearing her bathrobe.

Daniel ducked behind the railing, certain she had seen him. How was he going to explain being fully dressed and carrying his backpack? He'd probably never get to watch TV again. Slowly, he peeked over the banister and saw his mother pacing the entryway, tears running down her face.

Emi put her hands over her face and sat on the country bench in the hallway. "Where are they?" she said. "Please don't let anything happen to them. Please bring them back safely."

How could his mom be downstairs when he saw her upstairs? "Bring them back safely." What does that mean? Daniel panicked. He was afraid and couldn't explain why. He returned his attention to his mother, but she was no longer there.

The hallway was empty. Daniel descended the stairway, his eyes darting in every direction. Scared, confused, but determined, he opened the front door and walked into the evening darkness, knowing he was very much alone.

***

Had Daniel stopped to listen to his brother, he would have seen Joshua was not scared, nor was he sulking. He would have seen Joshua's skin had turned clammy and ghostly white, surrounded by a glow. Had Daniel cared enough to hear what his brother said, he would have seen Joshua's eyes roll back in his head and his hands shaking violently. Had he remained there to calm his brother, rather than threatening to crush him like a soda can, he would have witnessed his brother's eyes return to normal. He would have heard Joshua speak a single word. "Mom."

Chapter 12

Emi

"And then it came to life in my hand, I swear. It started glowing and got all warm!" He handed Stevie the rock. "I know it sounds crazy. But Joshua was there, too. He can vouch for the whole thing."

"Wow," Stevie said. "It's awesome. One of the coolest stones I've ever seen. Where did you find it?"

"That's the weirdest part of all." He paused and caught his breath. "First, I need to start at the beginning. Do you remember a few days ago, what happened on the bus ...?"

***

Emi slipped into her favorite bathrobe. It was one size too large, bright pink, with more ruffles than she cared for, but it had been a Christmas gift from her husband and she'd come to cherish it.

She remembered her anticipation as she unwrapped the box and saw the "Enchanted" logo of her favorite lingerie designer, as well as her surprise when she opened the box and saw a robe that was more fluff than satin. Oh, boy," she told herself. "Just smile and look thrilled. Joel's heart was in the right place, but when it came to important matters such as perfumes and bathrobes, he was a man out of his element—a true fish out of water.

"Try it on, Mom," the boys urged. "Come on, try it on."

She remembered how embarrassed Joel looked when she did, and how the boys nearly laughed themselves into a frenzy. The sleeves hung past her hands and it was a foot too long in length.

_"Look, Josh," Daniel said. "Mom's an Ewok."_

But she refused to let Joel exchange it for something more "Emi." The robe had been the brunt of many jokes over the years, but it was now one of her most treasured possessions and she couldn't imagine replacing it with another.

Emi took a towel, wrapped it around her hair and neatly tucked it in place. There was nothing worse than wet hair hanging on her neck. She scattered sea salt into the warm water, let it dissolve, and released her favorite bath oil—mulberry—into the tub. As she sat on the edge, waiting for the water to rise, she thought she heard something in her bedroom. She leaned over, peering through the opening of the bathroom door, but the room remained quiet and undisturbed.

She thought of Daniel and the complete wreck this day had been, and her muscles tensed. She turned off the water and stepped into the tub. "Can I have a do-over on this day, please?" she said, as she lay in the water. Resting her head on the sponge pillow, she closed her eyes, letting herself escape into a world more serene.

Emi was able to think more clearly during these moments, when her body and mind were relaxed and pulsing in symmetry with the other. She was able to reflect upon a time when the days were easier, when she and Joel made their decisions together, as a team. There was strength to this unity and she longed for it again. Their life together hadn't been a fairytale—there were tremendous growing pains—but they'd learned to live together and sacrifice for the other.

Before their wedding, Emi experienced cold feet and, for a moment, considered calling it off. She was terrified, feeling completely unprepared for what she was getting into, and questioned if she needed more time. It was her friend Sherrill who gave her the best advice anyone could have given: "It's going to be like learning to drive on I-5 during rush hour with a stick shift. You'll figure it out. It will be bumpy, but you'll get there together."

Those words stuck with her after all these years. It had definitely been bumpy, but she wouldn't have had it any other way. Those bumpy times were when she and Joel leaned most on each other. It was during those times they shared the greatest joy.

There was no other life she would have wanted.

She never contemplated anything happening to Joel. He was the strongest man she'd ever known. It wasn't a physical strength but a strength of character. She'd never met anyone with such passion and perseverance. Joel was crazy about boxing and would often relate it to life. "Boxers aren't extraordinary men," he said. "They are ordinary men with extraordinary determination." To Joel, the difference between a good boxer and a great one was not talent; it was the desire to get off the mat that final time, while the opponent stays down. That was real courage, he argued.

But yet, that courage and determination could not save him.

Emi winced; it was a painful thought. She thought they would always be together, raising their children, building a future, seeing their grandchildren born—spoiling those grandchildren rotten when they came to visit.

And to have it all taken away by such a random, freak acci—

She didn't finish the thought. A more haunting one replaced it, one that caused her to sit upright with panic.

"It's not possible," she said, resisting the memory flooding back to her. It was a memory that had remained dormant for years but now paralyzed her as she recalled every word, movement, and fear from that evening six years ago—the first of Daniel's night terrors.

Occurring in two percent of children, a child suffering from a night terror will wake suddenly from slow-wave sleep, gasping and screaming with fear. It is impossible to fully awaken a child during one of these episodes. The child, once the terror subsides, will settle back to sleep and rarely have any memory of the experience.

***

She remembered the time down to the exact minute— _11:09 p.m._

Joel was away for a training seminar in Sacramento. They agreed it was a seminar he ought to attend, but it meant she'd have to take care of the kids and home by herself, and it had been an exhausting week. 11:09 p.m. It was amazing how the smallest details were coming back to her. She heard Joshua calling her name. "Mommy, Mommy," he yelled, tugging at her arm to wake her. "Mommy, Mommy!"

Joshua made a habit out of sneaking into their bedroom at night and crawling into bed with them. He was usually quiet, and she was annoyed he was making such a fuss tonight. Can't I just once get a full night's sleep? Is that too much to ask? Then she saw his face and knew something was wrong. "Joshua, what is it? Tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

"Daniel. It's Daniel, Mommy!"

She sprang from her bed and was heading for the door when she heard the screams, bloodcurdling cries that made her heart skip a beat.

Daniel was sitting straight up in his bed, eyes wide open and gasping for breath. Emi pulled him into her arms, hoping to stop the screams. "Daniel, wake up," she pleaded. "Daniel, baby, wake up. What's wrong?" He violently shook free from her grasp, gulping air as he shrieked.

Joshua panicked. "Mommy, help Daniel!"

"Joshua," she said. "Go get me the telephone and a wet washcloth from the bathroom." He looked at her with wide eyes. "Now, Joshua. Bring me the phone and a wet washcloth." She felt Daniel's pulse; it was racing at least twice a normal rate, and Emi had to fight back tears. Oh, God, what do I do? Her boy was dying for all she knew and she didn't how to help him. "What do I do?" she screamed. "How do I save my son?"

She calmed herself. It did no good for her to yell, also. "Daniel, please talk to me. It's Mother. Daniel, can you hear me?" But his cries continued, as Joshua returned. Fearing he'd have a seizure, Emi held the phone tightly in her hand, ready to call 911 at the first sign of drooling or jerking.

"Joshua, I want you to clear all the toys off the floor right now. I don't want anything on the floor that your brother could trip on."

It was then that Daniel grew still and his cries faint. If Emi had any hope of the nightmare ending, it was dashed when she saw his face. In her son's eyes, Emi saw a vacant stare that looked right through her without any recognition. Her first thought was of the "calm before the storm"—that lull, the one that seems momentarily peaceful but always precedes the harshest of squalls.

"Joshua, I told you to pick up these toys. Do it now, Joshua! I don't want to see any toys left on the floor."

In that moment, she would have given anything in the world to trade places with Daniel, so he wouldn't have to hurt like he was hurting, so he wouldn't have to go through the nightmare. She wondered what was going on in his head right then.

Had she been able to trade places with him in that moment, she would have seen the wet grass and fallen branches on the lawn. She would have felt the chill of the early morning air and given a slight shiver, as the wind struck her bare skin. Perhaps she would have asked herself why she was up at this hour in the morning, when the sun was still asleep and darkness blanketed the horizon.

Had she been able to enter Daniel's nightmare, she would have seen her husband step outside, wearing his work clothes, carrying his satchel and coffee mug. She'd have seen him open the door of a muddy pickup truck and climb in, but not before he turned back to the house and saw Joshua standing at the picture window in the den, frowning, on the verge of tears. She'd have seen Joel wave goodbye to his youngest son, who in turn, raised his hand and placed it against the window.

But she couldn't trade places with him, and all she heard was Daniel asking his father where he was going and why he was leaving the house so early in the morning.

Had Emi the ability to travel outside of herself and into the dream taking place in her son's mind, she would have seen her husband take a long drink from his coffee and spill some on the dashboard. She would have heard him mumble, as he fumbled to find a napkin, and she'd have felt the bumpiness of the ride, as the bucket-of-bolts he was driving desperately required a tune-up.

She would have seen him adjust the radio dial until he found his classic rock station, and perhaps she would have smiled, remembering their playful tugs-of-war over the radio settings. She was a pink dress, leather-seat sedan, Chopin Concerto in E Minor kind of girl. He, on the other hand, was all t-shirt and blue jeans, pickup trucks and rock 'n roll. But she couldn't trade places with her son, and all she saw was Daniel sitting on the bed, asking his father why he was turning onto the two-lane highway at the outskirts of town.

Were she able to see inside her son's mind, perhaps she would have laughed as her husband began air-guitarring and singing out of tune with the song on the radio. "Every man fancies himself a rock star," she might have joked. She'd have scoffed when the disc jockey came on the air with the weather report for the day— "We're looking at a high of sixty-four degrees in beautiful Grisby today"—as she always thought they were a little pretentious with their fake, deep voices.

She probably would have told her husband that the oncoming car was blinking its lights to tell him to turn off his high beams. She would have fought the temptation to play backseat driver and tell him to be more careful and watch the road, as the highway was winding and narrow. Then she would have seen the truck approaching, and would have recognized it instantly. Instead, she could only listen to her son yelling, "Watch out, Dad, a big Lincoln truck!"

Had Emi been granted her wish and switched places with Daniel during those few seconds in time, she would have seen her husband pinned and unable to move, trapped beneath the crumpled pieces of steel, his body broken and spirit quickly fading. She would have screamed in horror, as her son did now.

That was the end of it. The nightmare was over. Daniel sat in the bed, sobbing. Emi couldn't stand it any longer. She reached out to hold him and he collapsed in her arms. She felt his breathing slowly return to normal and, checking his pulse, gave a huge sigh of relief. She lay beside him and wiped his brow with a wet cloth.

Daniel grew still; his eyes shut and he fell asleep. She put his head on the pillow and gently tucked him in. Looking up, she saw Joshua standing in the closet. He was holding some toys in his hand and crying.

"Joshua, what is it? Sweetheart, come here."

"I'm scared, Mommy. I'm scared Daddy's hurt."

She took him in her arms. "Daddy's fine, sweetheart. Your brother had a terrible dream, but your daddy's fine."

"I'm scared, Mommy. I'm scared for Daddy."

She hugged him tightly, kissed him on top of the head and reached for the phone. "We're going to call Daddy to make sure everything is okay. How does that sound?"

"Okay," he said, wiping his eyes. "Let's call him."

Emi called the hotel in Sacramento. Though she knew it had been a dream, she was relieved when Joel answered on the second ring. She briefly filled him in on what happened and handed the phone to Joshua.

"Hello," Joshua said, still choking back tears.

"Hey, buddy," spoke the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. "I heard you were worried about me."

Joshua sounded less than convinced. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Of course, I'm okay. Your brother was having a bad dream. But I'm fine; we're all fine. I'll be home tomorrow night. Okay, Joshua?"

The final tears passed and Joshua wiped them away. "Okay."

"I want you to listen to your mother and do what she tells you, okay? I love you, Joshua. I can't wait to see you."

"I love you, Daddy."

Emi said goodnight to Joel and hung up the phone. "Now do you believe that Daddy is safe and sound?"

"I guess so."

"Come here," she said, taking him by the shoulders and rubbing his arms. She noticed he was still holding his toys. "What are those," she asked, looking at the small wooden pieces in his hand.

"You told me to pick up Daniel's toys. These are his logs ... his Lincoln logs."

***

Emi had almost forgotten that she was sitting in a bathtub full of water that had turned lukewarm. A floodgate had opened and the images came pouring through the recesses of her memory. _These are his logs ... his Lincoln logs._

The connection was there, if only she could stave it off longer until she was stronger and more able to deal with it. But she knew there was no denying the memory.

***

"Joshua, can you turn off the vacuum cleaner?" She heard the phone ring but couldn't hear the voice on the other end with the vacuum running.

"What? I can't hear you!"

"The vacuum." She pointed. "Turn off the vacuum."

"Hello," she answered, holding the phone in one hand, dusting rag and spray in the other.

"There's been an accident out on the Bellflower Highway. Your husband was driving one of the vehicles involved ..."

Her world went silent.

"Emi, Joel's in the hospital. He's in critical condition ..."

She dropped the can of spray to the floor. It landed with a soft thud. Unable to speak, she could only listen.

"It was a bad wreck, Emi. The other vehicle was a large truck, a logging truck."

The words echoed and she couldn't make them stop. How had Daniel seen the accident, with exact detail, six years earlier? She was no longer conscious of her movements and failed to realize she'd released the drain of the bath and the water level was slowly sinking. The memories she'd tried to suppress since her husband's death seized her, and there was no stopping them.

***

Why did hospitals always appear so cold, so sterile? She wondered if there was any other appearance they could have. Perhaps there's no way to give a cheerful tone to sickness and death. She almost broke down when she saw him. Tubes fed him life, arteries of wires connected to his broken body. She turned away and wiped her eyes. She didn't want him to see her crying.

His words came in interrupted fragments. "Emi," he said.

"I'm right here." She softly touched his hand.

"I don't know what happened, Emi." He managed to smile. "You always said my truck was an accident on wheels."

Confused by the bitter-sweetness of her emotions, Emi found herself laughing at her husband's joke while giving in to the urge to weep at his side. She blurted out, crying in between the words, "When you get out of here, I'm picking out the next vehicle. And it won't be a beat-up truck."

He traced his one moveable finger along the skin of her hand. His speech was slow and labored. "It's a deal."

"I need to tell you some things," he said, "and I want you to listen."

She wrapped her hand around his and leaned closer as he spoke.

"Emi, we'll get through this. I promise." Tears fell from Emi's face and landed on his bruised arm. She wiped them off. "Leave them," he said. "It lets me catch a glimpse of your heart.

"When I think back on my life, and my past, it's always your face I see. When I think of my future, it's always with you." His speech trailed off, but he finished his final thought. "My life began when I met you."

Even then, during a moment of intense pain, his words threw a blanket over her shivering soul. His words always had that effect on her. When she was tired, he spoke words of encouragement to her; when she was scared, he soothed her with words of hope; and when she was sad, he gave her comfort in the midst of sorrow.

***

Emi sat naked in the empty bathtub, weeping, left with more questions than answers, most of which centered around her son's dream from six years earlier describing the Bellflower Highway and her husband's head-on collision with a logging truck.

She was interrupted by shouting. "Mom!" It was her youngest son's voice. "Mom!"

"Joshua, what is it?"

"Mom!"

"Hold on, Joshua. I'll be right out." She quickly dried off and put on her robe. "Joshua, is everything okay?" she asked, stepping out of the bathroom. She immediately saw it was not. Her son stood in the doorway; the color had vanished from his face. "Joshua, what's wrong?"

But he remained silent, his body quivering like he'd been pulled from icy waters. Emi knelt beside him. "Joshua, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

"I'm scared. I have a bad feeling." He lifted his shaking hands. "It hurts really, really bad."

She took his hands. "Can you tell me why, Joshua? Can you explain what you're feeling?"

"I can't explain it because I don't know what it is. But something's wrong."

After what she'd just experienced, she decided not to dismiss Joshua's feelings so easily. "Where's Daniel?" she asked. Joshua looked away from her and kept quiet. "Joshua," she repeated. "Where's your brother?"

"I don't know," he said, pursing his lips tightly—a dead giveaway.

"Don't lie to me, Joshua."

The boy unraveled. Secrecy was not his winning hand. "I don't know where he went. He said he would crush me like a soda can if I told on him."

"Follow me," she ordered, stepping into the hallway, heading in the direction of the boys' bedroom. "A soda can, huh? That's very clever, Daniel."
Chapter 13

Sneaking In

He pumped his fist in the night air and yelled. "Oh, yeah!" The buzz of adventure had taken hold of him and he couldn't help himself. "Yeah!"

Daniel, as he sprinted home in a race against time, glowed with excitement. He felt more alive than he had in a long time and, hardly breaking stride, climbed up and over an old chain-link fence and raced across the abandoned football field, its grass now overgrown and full of weeds.

Being at Stevie's house was more encouraging than he'd imagined. No, they hadn't been able to make the stone come to life again. They tried everything they could think of, from dousing it with hot water to playing hot potato with it, but the stone just sat there, cold and black.

But the important thing was that Stevie didn't think he was crazy. As Daniel shared his secrets with Stevie, he felt the weight lifting and was overwhelmed with relief.

"All right!" he said and raced home, his backpack jostling as he ran.

***

"Daniel!" Emi shouted for a fifth time.

No answer. Daniel was apparently ignoring her or nowhere in the vicinity. Either way, she was getting tired of his attitude. This wasn't the first time he had disobeyed her and definitely not the first time he'd "snuck" out of the house.

Who did he think he was fooling? She'd known of his escape route for ages—how he'd shinny down the tree outside his bedroom, cut across the bluff, and wind up at Stevie's house with a smirk on his face, grinning with satisfaction at having pulled the wool over her eyes. If only they knew that she was on the phone with Stevie's mom every time.

Tonight was different, though. A feeling of uneasiness stirred within her. She didn't know what it was—if it was simply her mother's radar kicking in—but right now she simply wanted Daniel home safe and sound. Of course, it was the mother's proverbial two-edged sword—once she saw he was home safely, the butt whipping would commence. "Bring him home safely, Lord," she prayed, "so I can kill him."

Emi turned to Joshua, still pensive, his brow furrowed. "Keep calling for your brother," she said. "I'm going to call Stevie's mom and see if he's there."

Joshua acknowledged her words but remained solemn. She tousled his hair and tried to ease his worries. "Everything's going to be fine, Joshua. I promise."

Pacing nervously, she waited for an answer, which came after the fourth ring. "Hi, Debbie, it's Emi. I'm sorry to be calling so late, but I'm trying to find Daniel. Is he there?"

"I'll go upstairs and check, but I haven't seen him, Emi. Stevie's been in his room for the last couple of hours."

"Would you mind checking? I don't mind waiting." Emi continued to pace the floor. Where is he? This has been the longest day. I just want it to be over.

The thought was cut short. The slow creak of a door stopped her in her tracks. "Joshua?" she said, but received no answer. She stepped into the hallway and looked around the corner, but saw nothing. Could the noise have come from the basement?

"Emi, he's not here," said the voice on the other end of the receiver. "Stevie's asleep in his room."

"Thanks, Debbie. Goodnight." She was counting on his being there and couldn't hide her disappointment. She looked down the hallway toward the basement stairs. It was nothing. Quit imagining things, Emi.

***

The rusted hinges of the basement door creaked when the creature opened it. That, he did not anticipate. He heard the woman's voice coming from the kitchen. "Joshua!" it called. He disappeared behind the door and waited to see if the voice came closer.

But it didn't, and he skulked down the basement stairs like a phantom, the train of his cloak dragging the ground behind him.

He was close now. Real close.

***

Thirty yards or so to go and he'd be home free. Daniel pumped his fist in the air and turned the final corner for home. _I'll sneak in through the front door and be tucked into bed in no time flat. Mom will be none the wiser._

"Daniel!"

Oh, crap!

He couldn't believe it. It was Joshua, yelling from outside. I'm going to kill him. What is his problem, yelling bloody murder? He'll wake up the whole neighborhood.

Daniel's hope of going unpunished was quickly evaporating. Or was he already caught? Had his mom discovered he was missing? If she has, I'm dead.

He wasn't giving up without a fight, though. Daniel considered his options. There was no way he could sneak in through the front door—absolutely no way. That was the direction Joshua's voice was coming from. What about his bedroom window? He cursed out loud, realizing it was no good: 1) He had to climb up the balcony, which directly faced his mother's bedroom. 2) He couldn't remember if he left the bedroom window unlocked. If he got up there and couldn't get the window open, well ... he may as well put a bell around his neck and sound an alarm because he'd be done for.

He had one chance: the basement stairs. If the door was unlocked, he could zip up to his bedroom and possibly get away with this. If the door was locked? He didn't want to think about it. He enjoyed his playtime, television, and hanging out with friends. The thought of a ninety-nine-year grounding didn't sound appealing. He quickly prayed for an unlocked basement door and charged ahead.

***

Emi's intuition radar was going full tilt. She didn't know if she was a) scared, b) furious, c) annoyed or d) all of the above. Also, she didn't know if she was going to a) give her son a huge hug when he got home, b) order him straight to his room until she figured out his punishment or c) wring his neck. She figured "d" and "c" were the correct answers and was contemplating them when the thought hit her. What was the noise she heard near the basement stairs? Was it Daniel sneaking back in?

Emi shook her head, frustrated with herself. It made perfect sense. He'd snuck in through the basement and was now, she was willing to bet, tucked into bed pretending to be asleep, laughing to himself about how sneaky he was.

We'll see about that, Daniel. She headed toward the basement stairs; she needed to make sure he'd locked the door behind him. We'll see how clever you really are.

***

"Almost there!" he said, dodging the garbage cans. Daniel rounded the corner and came to a screeching halt. He was standing face to face with the creature from his nightmare—the man in the waterfall.

His long black cloak was exactly as Daniel remembered it. There was a gold band on both sleeves that hung past his wrists, revealing the man's boney, ashen fingers. The figure stood at least a foot taller than anyone he'd ever seen, with a slight bow to his back, as if he was used to reaching down. The hood of his cloak covered the top of his head and enveloped him in shadows. The man's hair was oily black, hanging over his shoulders to his waist. Seeing his face, Daniel realized he wasn't sure if it was actually a man or not. He looked human, but not human enough. There was something not normal about his face. It was too elongated, and the skin was too ghostly.

Every instinct told him to run, but Daniel couldn't move. His legs felt like toilet plungers stuck to the bathroom floor. Daniel was struck with a cruel irony. In his nightmares, when he was running from the bogeyman, he was able to run and leap as fast and high as he wanted. He defied gravity in those dreams. Now, when the metal hit the road, when the bogeyman had paid him a visit in real life, he stood quivering like a ripple in a pond, unable to move a muscle, frozen in his steps.

The man's eyes pierced Daniel like a burning spear and held him in their gaze. They stood in a stalemate, until the man turned his gaze downward and his eyes began to twinkle. He seemed entranced by something. But what? Then Daniel realized what it was—the stone in his hand. Daniel recalled how the onyx turned warm and glowed in his hand. "There are no coincidences," he told himself. "This is no coincidence."

The man lifted his eyes from the stone, returning his attention to Daniel. But this time, his eyes weren't twinkling. This time, they were filled with nothing but wickedness. The saying goes, "You can't judge a book by its cover." Well, Daniel had seen enough of this creepy guy to judge him twice over by his cover and know that he had no intention of shooting the breeze or starting up a Scrabble game. It was time to get the snot out of there. Come on legs, move!

This time, his legs obeyed. He took off like a shot, acting on instinct. He turned the corner and, in one seamless motion, flung over both garbage cans to block the path. He knew he couldn't run inside the house. The creature would follow him and that would put his mom and brother in danger. All he could do was run—run like a madman as fast and as far as he'd ever run before, which he did.

It worked. The garbage cans actually worked.

Daniel heard the man stumble over the cans then pumped his fist in the air. That should buy him a few extra seconds. Looking back, he saw the man pick himself up and let out a slow monstrous growl, one so menacing it sent shivers up his spine. Oh, man. If that ugly dude catches me, I better start making out my last will and testament. He hopped the short fence at the edge of the backyard and raced for the old, gravel road. Don't look back, no matter what!

***

Joshua was fed up with standing outside, calling for Daniel. No one listened to him when he had something important to say. Daniel threatened to beat him up and his mother ordered him around. He stepped down from the front porch.

A feeling came upon him, causing him to flinch. He felt stinging prickles up and down his body and his skin grew hot. As he neared the southern end of the house, the prickling got worse and he began to sweat.

He continued walking in the direction of the basement.

Chapter 14

The Chase

He dared not look back but knew the man was giving chase; he heard his feet pounding the gravel road behind him. He felt his lungs were about to explode _. That's fine. If they explode, it will still be a heck of a lot better than getting caught by this ugly dude._

Daniel couldn't escape the big question on his mind: how was it possible he was running down a gravel road at ten thirty at night trying to escape a creature from his dream? "I must be dreaming," he said. But Daniel knew it wasn't a dream and didn't dare stop running in order to prove himself right.

Even worse, he heard the footsteps getting closer. He didn't know how much of a lead he had, but it was shrinking and he wouldn't be able to outrun the man for much longer. At least, not on this gravel road.

Daniel had an idea. What advantages did he have going for him? The man was three feet taller than he was and could easily outrun him. The man was at least ten times stronger and would easily beat him in a fight. At this point, Daniel didn't even know if the man was human or not. There was one advantage he had: familiarity. Daniel knew every inch of this land. As long as they stayed on the gravel road, the creature could see where he was going. But if he moved the chase off-road, into the woods, he might have a fighting chance. He quickly surveyed his surroundings and couldn't believe his luck.

A quarter of a mile up the road lay the hidden trail to his grandfather's house. Daniel felt a glimmer of hope. If he could make it that far, he'd take this monster man on a journey he'd never forget. Pushing his body to the limit, Daniel raced ahead to put more distance between him and his pursuer.

***

Peeling back the thorny entrance to the trail, he smiled to himself. Buttface (his new nickname for the pursuer) ought to get a kick out of this. He replaced the thorn branches and stepped into the woods. He'd evened the playing field. Advantage: Daniel.

He sidestepped a jutting rock and raced into the darkness, where there were no streetlights to serve as guides or roads to act as maps. "Rock n' roll!" said Daniel, stopping long enough to roll three heavy stones onto the path. "Let's see how you like this, Buttface." As he jumped over the first ditch, he heard the creature growl from the trail's entrance. "I hope he liked the thorns. I wonder if he can bleed or not?" He skirted past a bramble bush. "One thing's for sure, I'm not sticking around long enough to find out."

And he didn't. He navigated the trail at top speed, but with a delicate gracefulness that allowed him to circumvent the obstacles surrounding him. He was in his element now and ran as one whose senses were working in perfect balance. He saw every rock lining the path that might trip him; he felt the amount of air coming into his lungs and knew how hard to push himself; and he heard every crackle of every branch, every gust of wind that blew—and the growl made by Buttface as he tripped over the log rolled into the middle of the trail. Daniel's heart quickened. The monster wasn't far behind and seemed to be navigating the trail with less difficulty than Daniel imagined. "Oh, crap," Daniel said and kept running.

He didn't expect Buttface to prove so adept at traversing the rocky trail, especially with that heavy cloak dragging behind him, and hadn't thought further ahead. He was swiftly approaching the trail's end. Stupid, Daniel. How can you be so stupid?

Daniel had one more trick up his sleeve. There was a huge ditch in the woods that was at least five feet across. It must be crossed to stay on the path, and the boys, long ago, placed a wooden plank there. Daniel stepped across the beam then dropped it to the bottom of the ditch, hoping that would buy him time. "If not," he said, grimacing, "I may be in real trouble." He crawled under a strand of barbwire and stood on the far lawn of his grandfather Tucker's estate.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been running from this goon. All he knew was that he was tired and dripping with sweat. So far, the man had avoided all of the pitfalls Daniel set and was still hot on his trail. Daniel was forced to ask himself a very important question: How much longer would Buttface search for him?

He knew the answer. This creature wouldn't stop until he caught him, which left Daniel with one option. He'd need to hide from him—all night, if necessary. From behind, he heard the breaking of branches. Quick, Daniel. Where is there to hide?

The answer came immediately. If there was any place to hide from this goon, he knew where it was. He ran like a madman for the arboretum gardens.

***

Silence was his ally, so there was no way Daniel was going to risk opening the cast-iron gate. He might as well pull the trigger on an air horn or leave a trail of breadcrumbs for the goon to follow. "Darn it," he said, approaching the gate for the second time that day. It was short of footholds, with iron spikes at the top. He threw over his backpack and climbed, making extra sure not to impale himself along the way. He breathed a sigh of relief as he landed safely on the other side without taking any spikes with him.

He'd played enough games of hide-and-seek over the years to know every possible place to hide. But now he had to pick the best hiding place, and he mustn't be wrong about it. Playing hide-and-seek with his mom and dad, if he got caught he could return to the picnic blanket and eat fried chicken. If he got caught now? Well, he didn't want to think about it.

He had to get to the western ridge. Here, the trees grew taller and denser, the bushes more camouflaged. He could build a makeshift cover on the ground, or perhaps cradle into a nook of branches in the highest tree. But first, he must get there.

It was then the evening silence was broken by a sound he hoped not to hear—the groan of the gate being opened. He won't quit! I really hate this guy. What did I do to him, anyway?

Daniel recalled the encounter at the basement, the way the man looked at the stone, like he'd found a sparkling diamond. What if I give it to him? I'll say, "Here you go, Mr. Bogeyman, here's your stone. Now will you please quit chasing me and let me go home?" Why not? I don't give a rip about it. I'll hand it to him and he'll leave me alone.

Daniel entertained these thoughts but never slowed his pace. In fact, he ran harder. He knew he'd as soon eat his mother's terrible meatloaf for an entire year than turn over his stone to the goon. Daniel didn't know what was so special about the onyx, but he'd seen enough television and read enough books to know the hero didn't hand over his treasure to the bad guy when the going got tough.

"He'll have to peel it away from my cold, dead hands first," Daniel said. And then he added, "I am really starting to hate this guy."

As he approached the western ridge, he formulated a plan. Close to the outer fence line, there was a small ditch near a maple tree. Once, during hide-and-seek, he ducked into this ditch and covered himself with the surrounding vines and shrubbery. It was incredibly uncomfortable but effective; Joshua searched for an hour and never found him.

He needed time, though, and time was growing perilously short. He had to find the ditch in the darkness, gather enough shrubbery for concealment, and cover himself. He thought he heard footsteps behind him but wasn't sure if it was his ears playing a trick on him. Seeing the tree ahead in the distance, Daniel made a dash for it.

***

So this must be what pure terror feels like.

It must be. He couldn't imagine feeling more terrified than he felt in this moment, sitting in the grass, trying not to cry. The tears welled in his eyes, and everything inside him wanted to give up and let them come.

Daniel found the ditch easily enough. There was one slight problem, though—he no longer fit in it. He'd grown several inches since that game of hide-and-seek. The ditch was useless to him now.

He briefly considered building a suitable cover but knew there wasn't enough time. The cloaked man would find him any minute now and heaven knows what he'd do to him. Daniel started to cry. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

He was about to give up, about ready to close his eyes and accept whatever torture Buttface could dish out when he remembered something his Dad told him a long time ago. "Boxers aren't extraordinary men. They are ordinary men with extraordinary determination." It resonated with Daniel then and it brought him a sliver of hope now.

Was he really ready to surrender to this weird-looking goon? Couldn't he dig deep and find that last-ditch effort inside of him? Was all hope really lost? Daniel got off his butt, wiping his tears as he stood. There was a small but growing sense of belief inside him. Surely there was a way out of this.

"They are ordinary men," he whispered, "with extraordinary determination."

He studied the surrounding landscape, looking for any possible location outside that could hide the presence of a twelve-year-old boy wearing white sneakers and a red hoodie.

Outside? A thought was there, just beneath the surface. Outside ...?

Of course. That was it—the mausoleum.

It was a couple of hundred yards away, on the opposite face of the hillside. He'd hide in the secret stairway. The goon wouldn't know where to look, and Daniel could stay there the rest of the evening.

His excitement growing with every stride, Daniel approached the top of the hill, looked down on the back of the building, and almost shouted with excitement—he was going to make it.

If there was one lesson his father taught them it was to never give up, and he almost had. He remembered his dad saying it. "As long as there is breath in a man's lungs, there is hope." Daniel believed it now.

Not far behind, he heard a loud thud, followed by a droning growl. It was a somber reminder. This was his last chance. Daniel bounded down the hill so fast that he almost tumbled head over feet. His strength was spent and his sides cramping; he'd been running for what felt like hours and all he wanted to do was rest. "Almost there," he said. "Just keep going."

Out of breath, he approached the mausoleum from behind. "All right, this is it, do or die time." Careful to remain hidden under the mausoleum's shadow, he walked to the front of the building. "What the heck?" Daniel shouted, gasping for breath.

The mausoleum was lit up.

Bright blue light spilled from inside the building, pouring through the doorway cracks and illuminating the facade. Daniel stood helpless, trying to come to grips with what he was seeing. Precious seconds were being wasted, but he was too stunned to act. The light soaked him in its warm incandescence. "I can't go in there."

A voice inside him told him to hurry, to act now, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. "I can't go in there," he repeated.

The voice inside reassured him that there was no other choice. "But I can't," he protested. "I don't know what it is."

Near the top of the hillside, he heard the sharp crackle of leaves. "Oh, no," said Daniel, petrified. "I don't know what to do!"

Only he did know—he was just scared. "Oh, man. This really stinks." He stepped to the door. "Please help," he prayed, reaching for the handle. The door opened and an ocean of light gushed forth. "Here goes nothing."

And with that, he stepped through the doorway.

***

The man stood at the entrance, a look of quiet rage on his face. He stood motionless, his expression never wavering, then started to walk away.

"Ouch!" a voice cried from the side of the mausoleum. The man's head turned in its direction.

In a split second, he stood towering over Joshua, who was kneeling and rubbing his shin, which he'd injured tripping over a rock. Joshua's eyes grew wide as he slowly looked up at the giant in front of him. "Huh ...?" he exclaimed.

The man wasted no more time. He pounced on Joshua, grabbing him by the shoulders and lifting him. Joshua screamed as the man held him captive in his arms and carried him to the front of the building. "Help!" Joshua yelled, desperately trying to kick and claw himself free.

"Let go of me! Somebody help me!"

Part II

Chapter 15

The Old Man

As the cobwebs cleared, Daniel remembered why he'd been running. _Buttface._ He turned around, expecting the worst. But there was nothing. Just the ground beneath his feet, which, if his eyes weren't mistaken, was a completely different color than anything he was used to. A field of white. In every direction.

In front of him spread a meadow blanketed in snow. It was daylight, and the sun glistened off the white powder. Where was he? Still in Grisby? Not likely. It never snowed in Grisby. Still in California? Maybe he was in Nebraska. But how did he get here? How could he have traveled a thousand miles in the blink of an eye? This was getting way too sci-fi for Daniel. He needed to find out where he was and how to get back to the mausoleum—and in a hurry. He wanted to be long gone by the time Buttface finally figured it out.

Or, maybe the mausoleum was still there. Maybe he was seeing things, his eyes still blinded by the light. Daniel turned to look. No mausoleum, but what he saw gave him equal fright. There was a large boulder, perhaps six feet high, jutting from the ground in front him. It wasn't there before, he was sure of it. Equally alarming, sitting on the rock was an old man, and he was staring at Daniel.

"Nebraska?" the man said. "I've never heard of Nebraska, but it sounds like a lovely place."

"I've never been, either," Daniel started to say but stopped short. Several questions needed immediate answers: First, who was this person? Second, how did he get here? He and the rock appeared out of thin air. Third, did he pose an immediate threat? Yes, he was a normal man's height and didn't have Buttface's soulless eyes, but he might have fallen from the same family tree. And fourth, how did he know about Nebraska? Daniel had thought the comment; he didn't say it aloud.

"The same way you thought that, as well," the man said.

Daniel considered running—he had a bad feeling about this—but reconsidered. Where would he go? Besides, if the man could appear out of nowhere atop a six-foot rock, what chance did Daniel have of escaping? Familiarity score: Daniel, 0; old man, 1.

"Who are you?" Daniel fumbled the words. "And are you going to kill me?"

"You get right to the point, don't you. No, I'm not going to kill you. Far from it. I'm more interested in this Buttface to whom you refer."

Again, there was the question: how did this man know these things? Daniel observed the person sitting in front of him. The man had long gray hair and wore a frayed brown robe. He looked to be at least eighty; deep wrinkles creased his face. He looks as decrepit as an old rocker. And how in the world did he get up on that rock? Better question, how will he get down?

"Oh, it won't be too difficult," the man said. As sprightly as a lynx, he unfolded his legs and hopped to the ground, landing softly on his sandal-clad feet. The man noted his dismount with satisfaction. "And you'd be amazed how sturdily some rockers are made. Why, I've been known to keep a good one around for at least twenty, thirty years."

Whoa, I have to give him props for that. For an old person, he's kept himself in good shape. He must do some sort of cross-training. Probably goes to the gym and works out on the machines that people with bad knees use.

"Gym? Not sure what that is, but I assure you I've never used one. If I can't find exercise using the land and fresh air, it's not worth finding, wouldn't you say?"

The man turned his back on Daniel and walked across the snow. Daniel watched him leave then switched his focus to a more pressing concern: getting home. He needed to backtrack through the blue light—that is, if he found it. All he saw in any direction was snow—snow, the rock, and the old man, who was already halfway across the meadow.

As with everything else in his life, it made no sense and Daniel felt fear wash over his body. So this is what being crazy feels like. Josh finally did it to me and he's not even here to see it. He jumped as the old man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How did you do that?" Daniel asked. "You were half a mile away. How'd you get back here so fast?"

"For a crazy person, you ask very logical questions. Now, shall we try this again? Come along."

Daniel walked slowly behind. He wasn't thrilled to be following the old man but it beat standing in the middle of a snowy field, doing nothing. He looked down and watched as his feet sank into the white powder, leaving a trail of his journey. It was then he was struck with a realization: the man was at least thirty yards in front of him but was leaving no footprints in the snow.

As they journeyed, Daniel scanned the area, but all he saw was the vast expanse of the meadow. He shivered and, in that moment, had another realization. He hadn't shivered because he was cold. He'd shivered because he was confused. There was snow everywhere, but he wasn't wet, or even the least bit chilly. Daniel stopped, needing a moment to think. There had to be an explanation for this.

The way he saw it, there were two options as to what was going on. Either he'd officially lost his mind (not a huge stretch to imagine, at this point) or his eyes were playing tricks on him. It seemed unlikely. He'd gotten his vision tested last month ("Spot-on checkup," the doctor said). Then again, he'd traveled through a blinding light. No telling what it did to his eyesight. His rods and cones could be all but ruined by now. He hoped it wasn't permanent.

Daniel sat on the ground and shut his eyes, wanting to give his rods and cones as much time as they needed to heal themselves. If the old man didn't like it, he didn't care. When he opened his eyes, he'd be back to where he was—in Grisby.

No, he realized, that was a ridiculous wish. That was the last place he wanted to find himself, about to snatched up by a henchman goon. Well, then, when he opened his eyes, he'd be back in Grisby before any of this happened. He'd be stepping onto the bus three days ago, Mrs. Humphries would be Mrs. Humphries (the same comfortable shoes and polyester pants), and life would get back to normal.

He allowed himself the moment to daydream. If he could open his eyes and be doing anything, anywhere, what would it be? He'd never been to Hawaii. That sounded cool. But it wouldn't be his top choice. Maybe the World Series or winning a BMX race? Those were good, too, but not the ones he'd choose. Daniel kept his eyes closed and let the silence take over. It was a daydream, but in that moment it felt all too real.

***

The sound filled his mind before he opened his eyes. He recognized it immediately. It was the sound of water. Not the fury of the ocean waves he was accustomed to hearing; this was softer, more peaceful. But that would be impossible. He was sitting in a meadow covered with snow. Daniel lifted his head and opened his eyes. He'd left one dream and gone straight into another.

A stream lay in front of him, less than five feet away. Its water flowed peacefully over small rocks sparkling under the sunrays. On both sides, a forest surrounded him. A real forest, too. This one was lush and green, and the trees were taller than the redwoods he'd visited. In the distance, he heard birds and small animals (at least he hoped they were small) scurrying in the woods. It was a peaceful sound and, for the moment, everything seemed right. Well, as right as could be under the circumstances.

"Had I known you were so slow, I would have brought a horse," a voice said from the distance.

Oh, no. For a moment, Daniel had forgotten about the old man. Why is he still here?

"Because you'd never find your way alone."

For the record, Daniel didn't make a habit of speaking rudely to senior citizens. He addressed them as "Sir" or "Ma'am." He held open the door of restaurants and supermarkets for them. He even once carried an umbrella for an elderly woman in a rain shower. But this man had dug too deeply under his skin—surely he couldn't be blamed for what he was about to say.

"That's it," said Daniel, turning in the direction of the voice, "you and me are ..." But he lost the words. The man was standing on top of the water—perfectly balanced, his robe flowing above the small current. It appeared Daniel had gone crazy, after all.

Maybe the stream wasn't as deep as it looked, Daniel thought. Or perhaps the man was a hallucination.

"A hallucination? You would wish yourself crazy, rather than accept the obvious?"

"The obvious? Nothing is obvious. Everything is wrong. This place, the lights, the riddles—walking on water. Haven't you heard of a thing called gravity?"

"I've heard of many things. It doesn't mean I have to obey them."

"Yeah, well, gravity isn't something that gives us much choice. Now, how are you doing that? There's got to be an underwater platform, or else you're using wires."

"I assure you, I am not using wires." The man crossed to the other side of the river and stood on dry ground. He raised an eyebrow, and Daniel swore he saw him grinning from underneath his beard.

Of course. He doesn't want me to figure out his trick. If I figure this one out, I'll figure out the rest. Daniel knelt at the riverbank and peered into the water. Sure enough, it was hardly a few inches deep. Small pebbles lined its bottom. Daniel nodded with satisfaction. With any luck, he'd be home by nightfall.

"Would you like help crossing the stream?" the man asked.

"I think it's you that's crazy. Of course, I don't need help. Even my brother can walk in five inches of water without falling."

"Suit yourself."

Daniel stepped into the stream. "Do I need help? What kind of ridiculous question is that? Does he think I'm so lame that I can't—"

Water rushed over Daniel. He flailed in the stream, searching for footing along the bottom; however, finding none, he swam in the direction he'd come from until he felt sand under his feet. He stood, soaking wet.

"You did that on purpose. Why didn't you tell me there was a drop-off?"

"I asked if you would like assistance."

Daniel wrung water from his shirt. "Well, you still could have warned me."

"We need to get moving. Follow me."

"And how do you propose I do that? You're on the other side of the stream."

"By listening," the man said, "as I point out the stepping stones you will use to cross the stream."

Chapter 16

The Memory Snoop

Daniel stepped to the shore and removed his sneakers. He turned one upside down and a stream of water poured from it. He did the same with the other then carried them into the clearing, where the old man was sitting on a tree stump. He was turned to his side and it sounded to Daniel like he was mumbling. Daniel listened intently but was certain it was something people his age did. The man would probably nod off any minute.

Daniel leaned against the bark of a nearby tree, adjusting himself until it was bearable, then returned his attention to the old man, who was still mumbling and had taken to writing in the air. The man was definitely a few cookies short of a dozen. He was moving his finger in the air and using it as... As what, Daniel wondered, a pencil? Whatever it was, he was definitely focused on what he was doing, like he was working out a math problem or something.

He felt embarrassed for believing the old man had actually walked on the water. There had been a logical explanation—an unseen rock path—and so it would be with the other riddles. He'd find the explanation and everything would return to normal. "That's funny," Daniel whispered. "Nothing in my life has been normal since—"

"Since what?" the man said, standing next to Daniel by the tree.

Daniel jumped to his feet and fell back a few steps. "How the heck did you do that? As a matter of fact, how are you doing all of this?" Daniel waved his hand toward the forest. "Where did the snow go, and how did this get here? I want to know what's going on."

"But am I not a hallucination?"

"I don't know what you are. But right now you're all I've got to work with, so start talking."

"You are very strange," the man said. He raised an eyebrow and looked directly into Daniel's eyes. For a second, Daniel thought he felt the man snooping inside his brain. He tried to break the man's gaze but couldn't, as he was fixated on the man's eyes. They were blue, like crystal, and Daniel realized he wasn't looking at them—he was looking into them.

***

Daniel had never been hypnotized before so he didn't know what it felt like. But if he had to guess, he'd probably say it felt like this. The old man was exploring his mind like a jigsaw puzzle—picking up pieces (or, in this case, his memories), studying them, then looking for the right place to put them down again. It was a weird feeling for him, and also an embarrassing one. Some memories are best kept secret.

The man had come across some of his more ... well, ground-worthy activities, and Daniel was powerless to stop him. "I can explain that one," he tried to tell the old man but found he couldn't speak. Or else he would have informed him that letting the air out of the neighbor's tires was Shawn Hudson's idea, not his. He was just an innocent bystander.

"Actually, he's not even my friend. He's kind of a jerk."

Daniel groaned as the old man flipped to another memory—the fireworks in old lady McCormick's mailbox. He couldn't explain that one. The old man had a smirk on his face and Daniel felt himself blush. He hoped the man wouldn't tell his mom.

This was getting worse by the second. So what if he'd done a few questionable things? Did the old man have to enjoy himself so much at his expense? Daniel ordered him to stop, but of course it did no good and the man kept right on going, leaving no pebble (or memory) unturned. The man's eyes twinkled.

Wait a second. I don't remember this one. Is that me?

The old man came across a memory Daniel had forgotten about. What was weirder, it seemed to be the one he was looking for. Daniel watched the scene unfold, as the images of that night turned from fuzzy to clear, and it all came back to him. The night of the parade, and Sheriff Meisner.

It was the annual Thanksgiving Day parade. All the floats had been made, everything was ready to go. This year, the parade was making its way downtown to the Grisby Library, where a big celebration was planned. Only thing was, to get there they had to travel down Ford Street, the steepest road in town. No big deal, right? Except for one problem: Daniel knew something was wrong. He'd glimpsed it in his mind.

The main float—the one carrying all the candy and chocolate and prizes—he saw crashing at the bottom of Ford Street and everyone on the float getting injured. He didn't know how he'd seen it or if he was imagining things, but the image was so vivid that he couldn't take the chance. So right before the parade, when all the floats and riders were gathered at the Lodge Building, Daniel called in an anonymous fire alarm.

While everyone gathered outside and waited for the fire trucks to come, Daniel snuck in and inspected the float. Sure enough, the trailer hitch wasn't fastened securely; the pin had come loose. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Daniel reattached the pin and checked to make sure the rest of the trailer was safe. Meanwhile, his friends helped themselves to all the candy and prizes their bags (which Daniel told them to bring) would hold. Hey, he was doing something good, right? He at least deserved a reward.

Yeah, well, good luck convincing Sheriff Meisner (or his mother) of that. He imagined how it would play out.

Yes, Sheriff Meisner, that's correct. I had a weird image pass through my head of a float disaster and was doing my civic duty to protect the citizens of Grisby. Oh, about the candy and prizes? Well, surely you can understand growing boys needing their daily nutritional sustenance.

Yeah, right. Daniel figured it best to keep his mouth shut and take his lumps the hard way. He'd rather be considered a criminal than a crazy person.

The memory was cut short. There was a rustling in the trees and the old man's ears perked up. "We must go," he whispered.

Daniel chuckled. "This guy is something else. One minute he's playing hypnotist, the next minute he's all serious." Daniel looked around. I don't even know what he's looking at. There's nothing there except ... whoa, a deer! Cool!

"Follow me," the man said. "And keep your head down."

Daniel smiled and waved to the deer. "Relax. It's not going to hurt anyone. It's just a cute little d—"

"Now," said the old man.

"But ..."

"Perhaps it would appear cute to you, but things are not always what they seem. You would be wise to remember as much. Now come along."

The old man led the way through a narrow ditch. Daniel followed, but under protest. He didn't see what the old man was getting so worked up about. After all, everybody liked deer. Or was it "deers?" He couldn't remember: what was the plural of deer? I know moose is moose and mouse is mice, but what is deer? I know the answer: who cares? I'm not in school right now. How do you say 'more than one obnoxious old man'? Two of him is how you say it.

"Why does everyone in my life have to be so dramatic?" Daniel stopped. "Darn it. I knew I didn't feel as heavy as before." With all the pressure the man put on him to hurry, he'd forgotten his backpack. The old man was probably going to flip out when he told him. "Uh, mister," his voice cracked, "can you stop for a second? We have to go back."

Daniel was thankful the old man didn't flip out, but he did give Daniel a stern look and told him to stay put while he went for the pack. "I shall return shortly," he added and scampered through the woods.

Daniel kicked at the ground while he waited. "I shall return shortly," he mocked the old man. He wondered why adults talked weirder the older they got. Would he talk like that when he was old, saying things like shall and thou? Daniel impersonated a grown-up's voice: "I shall serve dinner shortly, if thou will set the table."

"Heck, no," he said. "I'm never going to talk like that."

He turned his attention to the old man. The man was weaving through the thicket in a hurry. It was kind of surprising to see a maybe-eighty-year-old person moving with that kind of agility. The man came to a tall tree and, with the speed and balance of a frightened squirrel, shinnied up it in a matter of seconds.

Daniel gasped. "How did he do that? That was unbelievable!" The old man scoured the woods until he spotted the backpack then slid down and sprinted after it. "This guy may be an antique, but that was still pretty amazing."

The man returned and handed Daniel his pack. "Consider being more careful next time," he said. "The fewer times I do that, the better off we both shall be."

Daniel bit his tongue. He figured it wasn't worth getting into an argument about. Besides, he thought, you can't reason with old people. They're too stuck in their ways. He dug his hands into his pockets and started walking.

They traveled quietly for a couple of hours. The man seemed preoccupied and a lot more serious, but that was fine with Daniel. The longer he went without the old man's prattling, the happier he'd be. He grabbed his pack and held it tightly. How could I have forgotten this? This is how all the trouble started. If it wasn't for this stupid ... (Hush.) He forgot. If the old man was trespassing on his thoughts, he sure didn't want him knowing about the onyx.

The man stopped and turned to Daniel. "We're here."

Chapter 17

Kidnapped

Covering his face with his hands, Joshua opened his eyes, peeking through the slits of his fingers. No blue, he noticed. So far, so good. Cautiously, he removed his hands and looked into darkness.

There is darkness, such as sitting in a dimly lit movie theater, then there is darkness: the pitch-black, raise-the-hair-on-the-back-of-your-arms kind of darkness. This was the second type, and it scared him half to death.

"Where am I?" Joshua said and immediately put his hands to his throat. He felt a searing pain and recognized it right away. It was the same rasping pain he felt two years earlier when his dad took them to a hockey game and he screamed his lungs out. Joshua gently massaged his throat and tried to come to grips with his surroundings.

Except for a faint glow coming from overhead, it was useless trying to see. Instead, Joshua listened for any sound, any movement, something he could recognize. But there was nothing, only the familiar sound of his own breath, growing more hurried by the second.

With no sight, nor discernible sound, Joshua fought for control of his other senses. Whatever this place was, it was cold and damp, and Joshua huddled against himself, tightly wrapping his arms around his knees. "It smells like wet leaves in here," he whispered, then gently massaged his throat. That really hurts.

A few minutes passed in this manner, with Joshua afraid to move, afraid to make a sound in case someone heard him. He'd read enough comics to know that when the bad guys heard the prisoner moving around in a cell, that's when they came to torture him. Joshua had never seen a guy tortured when he was asleep, so right now that was his plan, to be as quiet as a church mouse, and maybe they'd forget about him.

It was a two-edged sword, though. While the silence was probably keeping him safe from his captors, it was taking a heavy toll on his mind. He needed to hear something, anything, other than the emptiness around him. Joshua screamed inside his head, drawing it out for as long as he could. Something about hearing his own scream—the loudness of his voice—he found relief in this. But as he drew his next breath, the silence returned, along with the fear. Joshua began to cry.

This time, there would be no holding back the tears. His cries would fill the air and alert the bad guys that he was awake, then they'd inflict numerous kinds of punishment on him. But it didn't matter anymore. He was just a boy. This wasn't fair. All he'd done was try to protect his brother.

Joshua cried at the top of his lungs, his breath convulsing as he sobbed. "I don't care if they hear me or not," he said, his throat burning as he spoke. "I didn't do anything wrong. I don't like this place."

Joshua had never been a boy who kept his feelings bottled up and, true to form, he held nothing back. His voice rose high in the air and echoed throughout the room. As he cried, wiping the snot from his nose, Joshua recalled the events of that night—how he got the weird feeling, like a prickling of his skin, and knew Daniel was in trouble. How he ran through the woods with the feeling inside telling him which way to go. The feeling led him to the mausoleum.

This time, he wasn't afraid. All he cared about was finding Daniel and he raced through the arboretum at full speed, praying he found him in time. But he got there too late and Daniel was already gone. The next thing he knew he was being captured by the creepy-looking goon and taken into the awful blue light.

Now, Joshua simply wanted to go home again so he could see his mom and brother. He was lonely and scared, and spit drooled from his lips as he cried. Everything about this place was terrible. He was sitting on an iron grate that made his butt hurt; as far as he could tell, he was in some sort of cave; and worst of all, he couldn't see. "Please let me out of here," he said. "I want to go home."

He wiped the final tears from his eyes. Final tears are always the worst, but they can't last forever, and these, too, began to fade, leaving Joshua struggling to catch his breath. As the tears subsided, his screams turned to sad whispers. "I wish this was a dream and it was Friday night movie night, and me and Daniel were making a fort. Then when I opened my eyes, we'd be sleeping inside our pillow and blanket fort ..."

Pillow and blanket forts. It was such a simple memory, but one that came at the perfect time. Of course. My flashlight wristwatch! The question was whether it still worked. Joshua crossed his fingers. "Please work," he whispered, pressing the button on the side of the watch. "Please, please, please work."

As it cut through the darkness and filled the room, that tiny beam of light, however faint, appeared to shine no less brightly, no less brilliantly, than a thousand torches burning. "Score!" Joshua said, again placing his hands to his throat. "Ouch, that really, really hurts."

He was still alone, his throat still hurt, and it was still way too quiet, but at least he could see and his spirits lifted. First things first, I have to figure out where I am. He shined the light on the near wall. And then how to get the heck out of here.

***

It wouldn't be easy. Joshua was surrounded by a stone wall, and the iron grate below him, designed in a medieval-looking pattern, covered the entire floor. The shadows splayed across the room danced like goblins over the stony walls. "If it looks like a dungeon and smells like a dungeon, then it's probably a dungeon." Joshua's lip quivered, but there were no more tears to cry.

He placed his hands on the wall. The stone was smooth, evidently worn from time. However, its surface was uneven and Joshua was quick to notice several spots that might provide small handholds. Joshua spotted a hold three feet overhead and decided to go for it. He pushed off with his free leg and stretched his arm as high as it would go. He strained but quickly reached the hold, allowing him to balance securely on his feet.

Joshua looked down. He was out of breath from those two simple moves but had climbed five feet. Five feet down, forty-five left to go. It dawned on him, he wasn't sure if that was a more encouraging thought or disappointing one. He pushed it from his mind and scaled higher.

Joshua wasn't trying to escape, not by any stretch of the imagination. He knew that if he tried to escape it would take time to work up the courage to do so. Right now, he was testing the waters, getting a feel for the wall and what it would be like to scale fifty feet of it with no rope or safety net, clinging for dear life against its surface. Joshua decided to come down. He lowered his foot to the previous toehold but his hand slipped, causing him to tumble to the ground.

Joshua crashed hard against the iron grate, his elbow taking the brunt of the collision. "I think it's broken," he cried and sat on the floor, rubbing his arm until the pain subsided. His confidence was shaken by the fall. If it hurt that badly falling eight feet, what would happen if he got to the top and fell? Would he break every bone in his body ... or worse?

"It doesn't help that this stupid floor is made out of iron!"

Shining the light overhead, he squinted to see the top of the cave and thought he saw the shape of something move. He squinted again but saw nothing. "There's no way I can do it. No way can I climb this in the dark."

He did have to escape, though. The thought of Goon-Face entering the cave made him cringe with disgust. Plus, what if there were others that looked like him, an entire gang of freakos, all giant and ugly?

I have to get out of here. Joshua got on his knees and scoured the wall with his hands. He voiced his last hope. "Maybe there's a secret passageway."
Chapter 18

Reminders of Home

Daniel looked around. Wherever "here" was didn't look any different from where they'd already been. However, he wasn't about to inquire as to their location. He'd made himself a promise and was adamant to keep it: no more questions, no matter how curious he may be. _After all,_ he reasoned _, if I don't ask questions, I won't get strange answers in return—no more riddles._

The man navigated the forest trail with a cane he'd fashioned from a fallen tree branch. Daniel picked up one and stripped it of loose bark. Not that he needed a cane (he wasn't sure why the old man needed one, either, given some of the moves he'd performed) but it helped take his mind off things, especially the temptation to question the man for answers.

With the bizarre events of the day, Daniel hadn't once thought of food. But now hunger overcame his curiosity and he figured he'd give everything he owned to be sitting at Stevie's kitchen table sharing a large pizza. Of course, anyone who knew anything about food knew the best pizza in the world came from Marco's Pizza in Grisby. Stevie's mom was cool about it. She ordered the boys their own pizza, rather than making them share the adult one. The way Daniel saw it, real pizza didn't include chicken, onions, and other vegetables. If that's what someone enjoyed, why not just grill a chicken breast, boil some carrots, and put it all on a plate? Stevie and Daniel considered themselves connoisseurs of pizza, and any connoisseur knew a real pizza was pepperoni, sausage, extra cheese, and, of course, Marco's secret recipe tomato sauce. Daniel's stomach growled. He could almost taste the pepperoni.

Daniel noticed the old man watching him—rather strangely, too—and rubbed his mouth in case he'd been drooling. Whatever the man was looking at, he definitely had something on his mind. Daniel remembered his promise and dug in his heels, prepared to wait out the silence. Instead, the man surprised him. "Perhaps it's time for you to eat," he said, stroking his beard.

Finally, an answer that made sense, and one Daniel appreciated. "Actually, I'm pretty hungry. And, yeah, I'd love something to eat." Being in the middle of the forest, he made a logical assumption. "Are there some berry or fruit trees around here?"

"Yes, but I believe we can do better than that. Wouldn't you agree?"

It was another of the man's vague answers, but Daniel didn't reply. A smell overtook him. It came from nowhere, yet filled the forest in a matter of seconds. It was a smell Daniel would know anywhere because there was only one place in the world it existed—Marco's Pizza.

Daniel let the smell fill his senses. He closed his eyes, breathing in the aroma. It felt good to hold onto something familiar.

"Had I known pizza would make you so happy, we would have stopped to eat a long time ago," said the old man.

Daniel was tired of his mind being an open book to this person. He couldn't figure out how the man was doing it, but he intended on finding out. However, before he spoke, his eyes caught sight of an image, one that stopped him cold. It was like someone had changed the television channel without warning, allowing the viewer to catch a glimpse of another program, then returned it to the previous show. Daniel saw the old man standing in the middle of an orange light with small stars dancing around him. The man was smiling and then ... gone. No, not gone. He was still there—well, sort of. I was looking into his eyes, but ...

Daniel tried to replay the vision in his mind, but it was no use. The image had faded. He reminded himself why he was angry at the old man. Again, the man had trespassed upon his thoughts, his most valued possessions. Daniel never said a word about pizza.

"You didn't have to. Now, are you ready to eat?"

No amount of hunger was worth this much frustration. "I'm not eating anything," Daniel said. "I'd rather take my chances on my own." He took several steps in the opposite direction but stopped. Who was he kidding? He was lost, and if he had any chance of getting out of this place, there was only one person who knew how. Daniel took a deep breath, ready to apologize.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "I've been having a rather enjoyable time at your expense. Allow me the opportunity to make it up to you. Please join me for dinner and I will address your questions, without riddles."

Had Daniel heard him correctly? The old man was apologizing? Daniel kicked some dirt and watched the dust rise and fall to the ground again. "It's okay," he said. "Just no more sarcasm, please."

Daniel turned to face the old man and his eyes widened. How many hallucinations could a person have in one day? He didn't know but was sure he'd met his quota.

Before him sat a small, rustic house. The windows allowed a flicker of light to be seen from the inside. Candles, Daniel thought. A wooden porch lay as a welcome mat to visitors. The old man stood by the railing, watching Daniel's expression change from amazement to curiosity to ... disbelief. He smiled reassuringly, and for a second, Daniel thought he looked nervous.

The house appeared warm and inviting. A fire was obviously blazing in the fireplace; soft, gray wisps of smoke floated through the chimney and across the darkened sky. Daniel smelled the wood burning and envisioned a living room with large, overstuffed furniture; heavy wood tables; and, he hoped, a well-stocked refrigerator.

"Let's go inside, Daniel," the man said. "You need to rest. This has been a trying day for you."

Daniel walked through the front door and saw it was exactly as he pictured. There was a large sofa with a patchwork quilt draped loosely over the back. There were two overstuffed chairs, a wooden table, a brown rug covering the floor, a desk, burning candles, and a massive fireplace. It looked exactly like a cabin in the middle of the forest should look. Finally, something that was the way it was supposed to be.

He unstrapped his backpack and set it by the sofa. The man disappeared into one of the other rooms, but Daniel didn't care to see what he was up to. He heard his mom's voice running through his mind. Always use your manners, Daniel. Wait until you're asked to sit down before doing so. However, given the circumstances, he felt certain his mother would let him forgo etiquette and collapsed on the couch. The cushions enveloped his body, and every ounce of his energy faded in that moment.

Daniel scanned the room and realized, while it appeared as it should, it was empty of any personal items. There were no pictures, no knick-knacks, no clocks, no jackets or sweaters on the coat rack. Everybody has something, Daniel thought. "Oh, no way," he surprised himself by saying out loud. "Where's the TV?"

The man rounded the corner, carrying a large tray. He placed it on the table and motioned for Daniel to eat.

"Oh, wow," he said. "Pizza! You were only in there for a minute. This is piping hot. The cheese is still melting. How did you do that? No, wait, I don't want to know." He wasn't about to let anything ruin this moment. The pizza looked exactly like one from Marco's. But surely even Marco's wouldn't deliver way out here.

Daniel reached for a slice of the perfectly-proportioned pizza. Pepperoni, sausage, extra cheese—a real pizza. He blew on it and took a bite. Definitely hot, but as his taste buds opened, he stopped chewing. "Ugh! What is this?" he managed to say, trying hard not to swallow the bite he'd placed in his mouth; however, seeing no napkin to spit it in, he had no choice but to swallow the food.

"Are you trying to kill me?" He reached for a mug that appeared to hold water and sniffed it. Odorless—and at this point, any taste was better than the one dancing in his mouth. He took a small sip. Water. He chugged the rest, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. So much for manners.

Daniel got ready to tell the old man off but hesitated. For the first time since meeting him, the man actually looked hurt, and Daniel realized the truth—he'd been trying to do something nice. Daniel took another look at the ruined pizza. How could something that looked so perfect taste so horrible? True, there was an art to making a perfect pizza, but even the cardboard microwave ones didn't make him want to puke.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It wasn't what I expected, that's all, and I didn't think before yelling. I'm really sorry."

Again, he noticed the sparkle in the man's eyes and considered how the eyes didn't match the rest of his body. He recalled how the man scurried up the tree that afternoon without missing a breath, and how he raced across the rocks of the stream in a quarter of the time it took Daniel. Actually, the old man didn't even need a break on their trek across the meadow. He stopped to wait for Daniel.

"Do you know puzzles?" the man said.

"Do I know puzzles? I know what puzzles are, if that's what you mean. Everyone knows what a puzzle is."

"Then you realize a puzzle is pieces of something that need to be joined as a whole, to form what truly is?"

Daniel knew what the old man was saying; it was the way he said it. Why did he use so many words to ask simple questions? "I guess so," he answered, holding back the response he really wanted to give. He'd already hurt the old man's feelings once—he didn't want to make a habit of it.

The man adjusted himself in the chair, rubbing his beard, which Daniel noticed he did quite frequently. He stood and walked gracefully to the fireplace. "My name is Alistair. I am not a hallucination. My intent was not to kill you with the pizza."

He placed his hands in front of the flames, slowly rubbing them together. The glow from the fire illuminated his robe and Daniel noticed, for the first time, small specks of glitter imbedded into the fabric. They sparkled, giving the man a regal appearance.

"You're not what I expected, Daniel. And while you do not reason out the obvious, you have extraordinary perception. I have much to say and you have a need to listen. You must open your mind to what you've never known. You must accept what cannot be and understand that what cannot be is what has always been."

"Look, I have no idea what you said. Why can't you talk like everyone else? I'll accept you're not a hallucination because I figure I'd be able to understand something I created in my head—and I sure don't understand you. So that means you need to tell me who you are, where I'm at, and what that blue light was that I came through. Can you do that without weird speeches?"

"Sometimes," the man said, "people need to see for themselves, rather than being told what is." Turning to face Daniel, the man stroked his long, white beard. As Daniel watched, he suspected the light from the fire was playing tricks on his eyes. It looked like the old man was standing inside the flames, and the imbedded sparkles from his robe looked like ... Daniel's eyes widened.

"I saw this," he said. "I saw this earlier."

In his earlier vision, the man disappeared. Daniel couldn't let that happen again. "No," he pleaded. "You can't go. I need you!" He tried to jump up, but the sofa was so cushioned that he fell back. "Don't leave me. Please."

The man clapped his hands together and an orange mist appeared around him. "He's not leaving," Daniel whispered. "He's changing." Daniel watched, as the transformation took place. The battered and weathered face of the old man faded. His skin smoothened along his body. The thinning gray hair on his head evaporated, replaced by thick brown locks. The white strands of the man's beard moved upward along his robe until they disappeared.

The old man was gone and standing in his place was a younger man—a much younger man, probably his father's age. Daniel understood why the man's eyes hadn't fit such a body. The man in front of him was their true owner.

"Alistair?" Daniel said hesitantly.

"I'm sorry, Daniel. But as I said earlier, sometimes people need to see things for themselves." Alistair lifted the excess material from the floor and wrapped the robe around his body. "I'm going to miss that beard," he said with a smile. "I suppose I should change into something more fitting."

"I'm glad you think this is so funny, Alistair."

"Not funny, but the look on your face was priceless. And if you took a moment to stop being so angry, you'd realize some of your questions have been answered."

"Nothing has been answered. If anything, I'm more confused than ever. People can't change from one person to another. It's an impossibility. Can't happen."

"I didn't change from one person to another. I remained Alistair at all times."

"Don't start with the riddles. I don't know why you pretended to be an old man or how you made yourself look like one. And how do I even know you're who you look like now? You could be some alien trying to make me feel comfortable until the mother ship takes me away. Come to think of it, it's all making sense. That's what you are, isn't it? You're an alien and making me see all this stuff."

"An alien? Mother ship?"

"From another planet. Stevie and I know all about this stuff. We've seen the movies. I know what you're up to and can tell you right now that you won't get away with it." Daniel felt himself shaking inside. He hoped it wasn't apparent to this ... thing. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how scared he really was.

"I assure you, Daniel, I am not an alien. I'm not even certain what your alien is. But I'm quite certain I'm not green, and I don't shoot light from a silver disc."

"So you do know what aliens are. You described them perfectly."

"No, you envisioned them perfectly. I translated your vision."

Daniel stared blankly at Alistair. I envisioned them, you translated? What does he mean, that he reads my thoughts? Can he do that? Of course, he can do it. He's been doing it all day. But how does he do it? It's got to be some sort of trick. He thinks about the conversation and expects it's something I'll say. All right, Mr. Magician, let's see how good you really are.

Daniel closed his eyes. He went to a place he dreaded going—his deepest and most painful memory. But he knew it had to be something Alistair couldn't guess, something he'd never shared with anyone. Behind closed eyes, he felt tears form and placed his head in his hands. He wasn't about to give Alistair the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"Please, Daniel," Alistair said. "Do not put yourself through this torment. Believe me that I see your thoughts. And know that I, too, understand the pain of losing a father."

Chapter 19

Alistair

After he cleared the "pizza" from the table, Alistair replaced it with a spread of fruits, berries, bread, and the most wonderful stew Daniel had ever tasted (though it included more vegetables than he cared for). There had been little talk since Daniel brought up the memories of Joel. Daniel was grateful for the lack of conversation and tried to focus on what was in front of him. He didn't know how Alistair was able to read his thoughts, but he now accepted, without a doubt, that he could.

Alistair changed into some pants that were bloused at the knee. He wore a long tan shirt with puffed sleeves, and a large brown belt with a round buckle. Daniel thought the look was a bit too sissy for a grown man, but it was better than the oversized robe, which served as a reminder of the day's events.

Alistair ate little and made no eye contact, and Daniel wondered whether it was for his benefit or Alistair's. The two sat silent until Daniel spoke.

"How old are you?"

"I am three hundred and fourteen years old."

"I mean in people years. Not like dog years or anything."

"I am three hundred and fourteen years old, in people years."

"Well, you look really good for your age."

"Thank you. And you look old to be thirteen."

"Yeah, well, you should see my kid brother."

"Your brother? Would that be Joshua?"

The answer caught him off guard, then he remembered Alistair had probably seen images of Joshua in his memories. "Yeah," he answered. "He's a pain in my butt. Always getting in my business, clumsiest kid in the world. I have to take him everywhere and never get a minute's peace. But you know what? I'd give anything to see him right now." Daniel considered what he'd said. "And that doesn't mean I want you to change into him. I'm not ready for two Joshuas in my life, okay?"

"Of course, I understand. And I promise I won't change into anyone or anything without you knowing first."

"Cool," said Daniel. "Hey, you said anyone or anything. Does that mean you can change into whatever you want?"

"Yes. Some objects take more energy and power. Human form is the easiest, requiring the least amount of energy. Should I want to transform into a bird, it takes more effort to match my body and organs to those of the bird."

"You can fly?" Daniel said. "How cool is that? Is changing something you could teach me to do?"

"It may be something you can already do."

"What? I can't change. I've wished a million times I was someone else, but I always wake up as me. It's got to be something in your genes or your blood. Sorry, I never paid much attention in biology. But I do know that whatever you've got, I don't."

"You have the blood of your ancestors, and that is very strong. You have more power than you know, Daniel, and that power will be tested. If you don't believe, you will fail."

"Yeah, I've heard all this before. You sound like one of those TV shrinks." Daniel lowered his voice to imitate an adult. "You've got so much potential, Daniel. You can do it if you believe in yourself." Daniel leaned forward and took an apple from the table. He bit into it, half-expecting an unknown taste, but it was as delicious as any apple he'd eaten.

"Do you recall earlier, when I told you I had much to say and you had a need to listen?"

"Yes," said Daniel, with a mouthful of apple.

"Then listen while I tell you a story. Once told, you will not be another teenager trying to figure out who you really are. You will know your ancestors; you will know their sacrifice; and you will know the power you hold within."

"I already know about my ancestors. I know my great-grandpa was a fisherman and worked on a large fishing boat out of San Francisco. And my great-great-grandpa worked the mines. I know their sacrifices. I know where I came from and who I am."

"If that's true," said Alistair, "then how did you not know you are a wizard?"

"A wizard? You mean like ... like Merlin?"

Alistair peered into Daniel's eyes, searching. "Okay, you have to stop doing that," Daniel said. "Every time you look at me that way, you go in my head and start pulling stuff out. It's private, and I don't need you searching in there like some guy on a computer trying to find a missing file."

"I'm sorry. It's easier to see what you see rather than interpret what you are saying. You're not very good at articulating."

"Then we're even, because I don't understand a word you say."

They looked at each and a smile appeared simultaneously on both of their faces. Daniel nestled back onto the sofa. He was too old for bedtime stories but somehow knew this one would be good. "Tell me your story, Alistair, and there better not be any mushy stuff in it."

As the warmth of the fire filled the cabin, Alistair reclined in the chair, resting his hands on the arms, tilting his head back against the soft cushion. His eyes remained alert, as his mind drifted back to a very different time and place.

***

"The world was very young. It was a hard time and people died more easily than they lived. Most worked hard for little, earning meager livings but satisfied with what they had. Some men, however, rejected such a simple existence. These men sought possession and money, the ownership of other human beings, and were willing to do whatever it took to accomplish their ends.

"Concurrently, stories abounded throughout the land of a few men and women who possessed extraordinary powers, ones that allowed them to do great things. They could manipulate the elements, create illusions, predict the future, and see into the past. It was said some could even shape-shift, transforming themselves into anyone, or anything, they desired.

"While most cowered at the thought of someone so powerful living among them, those seeking command longed for their services, to ensure their own prosperity. These men were ruthless and spent every waking moment in search of the magical ones, but the magical ones were never found.

"As time passed, each generation produced a more evil and arrogant ruler of men. Armies were built; alliances were drawn. Battle cast its shadow over the land. Lost amid the chaos of war were rumors of the magical ones. Their stories became myth. People scoffed at the idea of someone possessing such power. They thought it nonsense, and the few who did believe were ridiculed within their townships.

"The Magicals did exist, but not to serve one man. They were born in a time no man would have known. They spread across the land, joined in the knowledge that their power was given to them to serve all, to better the world in which they lived. Allowing themselves to be known would serve no purpose, so they limited their powers to conceal their existence. They tended to those in need, bestowing unknown gifts; some befriended the ill, providing healing remedies that were passed down from their forefathers; some cast spells over farmlands to produce crops that fed many; and some chose to lead ordinary lives, until the time came for them to move on. Staying in one place for long periods of time would surely raise questions about their age.

"Treabore was a Magical. He preferred the simple life and found pleasure living with his wife, Leah, among the humans in his township. By all accounts, he was a very kind and generous man. Later in their years, Leah gave birth to a son, and the child was embraced by the township. As the child grew, Treabore and Leah taught him the ways of magic, instilling in him the values shared by all Magicals. Their son, Meruzilak, was quick to embrace these ideals. As the years went by, the family enjoyed a peaceful existence. Their love for each other, and for those within the village, ensured a richness of life many never know.

"There are very few obstacles in a Magical's life, but one inescapable obstacle facing all is death. Treabore became very sick. Leah tried many different potions, but each failed and Treabore grew steadily worse. As a young Magical, without the full potential of his power, Meruzilak could only watch as his father lost strength with each day.

"The world does not stop for an ailing man, and the ways of men continued. Their battle for power spread across the territory, destroying village after village. True to their nature, the Magicals did not interfere. This was a war among men that must be won or lost without the assistance of magic. The battle soon came to Treabore's township. The men set fire to the homes and crop fields. What they couldn't burn they destroyed with their weapons and bare hands.

"Leah saw the army approaching, through a window in the home. Quickly, she cloaked Meruzilak under a spell of invisibility and rushed to Treabore's side, hoping to do the same for him. But before she cast her spell, the men broke into the house. When they came upon Leah, cradling her husband and pleading for safety, the men took their lives without mercy."

Alistair tilted his head forward and studied Daniel for a moment. Daniel was sitting on the edge of the sofa, wide-eyed and hanging on every word. "Oh, come on," he said. "Don't stop now. It's getting good. And you're not talking in a bunch of riddles. I want to know what happens to Meruzilak."

Alistair leaned back in the chair again. He took a deep breath and continued.

"Meruzilak buried his parents. There was no one left in the township to witness the sight. Had a traveler passed by that day, he would have seen a shovel removing the ground on its own accord, two bodies being pulled on a rug, with no attendee, then falling on their own into the opened earth. He would have watched the dirt being thrown back into the ground by the spirited shovel and, later, would say it was the ghost of the dead taking care of its own. But seeing as there was no traveler on the road that day, Meruzilak's actions went unnoticed.

"No one knew how long Meruzilak remained in the township or how long the spell of invisibility lasted. Some said he retreated into the woods to live in hiding, while most believed him to be dead. Little is known of him during that time."

Alistair took a breath and started to say something, but stopped. He put his fingers to where his beard had been, but the beard was no longer there. He lifted his mug, took a long drink, but just as Daniel thought he would resume the story, he said nothing.

"Oh, man, what are you doing? You can't go all quiet now. I want to know what happens next. Go ahead, start up again."

"I've said enough for the time being. It's time for you to rest." Alistair stood from his chair. "Come, I'll show you to your room."

"Oh, how lame is that? You start telling this amazing story then go mime on me and tell me it's my bedtime. This is like being back home. You're no different from my mom, Alistair."

"Wisdom does not mean simply knowing things. It means knowing when to share them. I will tell you everything there is to know, but for now you need to trust me."

Daniel opened his mouth to complain but stopped himself. Though he'd known Alistair a short time, he knew him well enough to know that Alistair said exactly what he meant to say and exactly when he meant to say it. "All right. But you promise you'll tell me the rest tomorrow?"

"You have my word."

"Hey, can I sleep down here tonight? I kind of like it by the fire."

"I suppose. Now get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Daniel fortressed himself between the cushions and tried to go to sleep. It was pointless, though. His body may have been tired but his mind was anything but. There were too many questions he wanted to ask. Treabore, Leah, Meruzilak. Not to mention the talk of wizards and Magicals and shape-shifting. What did Alistair mean when he said Daniel was a wizard? Was he talking about being able to do card tricks at parties or something like that? "Daniel the Wizard," he whispered, imagining the cool tricks he'd impress his friends with.

The fire continued its burn and Daniel's mind finally slowed down. Somewhere between the remembrance of Alistair's story and hint of a possible journey, he drifted to sleep, a cushion squeezed tightly between his arms.

Chapter 20

Resistance

There had been no magic carpet. No hidden stairway in the wall. Just a bunch of rocks, and Joshua, dejected and exhausted, finally closed his eyes and fell asleep. He dreamed of a Halloween carnival two years earlier at his school. The gymnasium was decorated as a haunted museum, with the teachers dressed up as witches and vampires and mummies. His principal, dressed as a werewolf, tried to scare him and his friends, Asher and Will.

"I know that's you, Mrs. Morris! You can't scare us."

One of the booths they visited was labeled "BEWARE!" It was partitioned with a black curtain with holes cut into it so the children could put their arms inside. The boys reached through the curtain, where separate hands grabbed them from the other side. Joshua's hands were shoved into a bowl of worm-like, squishy stuff, and one of the witches yelled at him, "That's human brains, little boy!" and laughed in a high-pitched cackle. "Ahhh haaa haaaa haaahhh ... how do you like brains, little boy?"

For a split second, Joshua was frightened; he felt goose bumps on his arm. But then he remembered, this was the gymnasium at his school, and the witch with the green face who asked if he liked brains had been his first-grade science teacher and next-door neighbor. "Yeah right, Ms. Connie." He pulled his hands through the curtain. "I'm so sure it's brains." Joshua picked up a spoonful of the glob, slowly chewed it and swallowed. "That's not brains! It's macaroni and pumpkin guts."

When he woke in the cave, Joshua hoped for a similar experience. He imagined it all being a big hoax, with Will and Asher standing on the other side of the fake rock, dressed in black capes and laughing. "They won't be laughing for long, after I punch them in the face." He turned on his wrist-light.

He wanted to scream. He was still here, still stuck in this awful, creepy place. He was confused, disoriented, and sore all over, especially his elbow. "I hate this place," Joshua shouted. His throat burned, causing him to cringe in pain.

After his search for a hidden passageway proved useless, Joshua complained, "It can't get any worse than this!" Well, things can always get worse. For the first time, Joshua had to pee.

Joshua was not a prudish boy, by any stretch of the imagination. He'd peed outside a million times. In fact, as a younger boy, he preferred peeing outside and would often sidestep the hallway bathroom to go behind a tree in the yard. "Why does he do that?" his mother once asked Joel. "There's a perfectly good toilet."

"Why does he pee in the yard?" his father answered. "It's simple. Because he can."

But there was something about peeing in this place—he wouldn't be able to do it even if he wanted to. He could only go where he was comfortable going, and this awful room was by far the most uncomfortable place he'd ever encountered. He squeezed tightly to hold it in.

There was a deeper reason, however, why Joshua wouldn't pee in this place. By peeing in the cave, Joshua would be accepting the possibility that he'd be trapped here a long, long time—and that he was a prisoner. Once he peed the first time, he'd go again, then again and again. Whereas, the longer he held it, the longer he retained hope that help was on the way. He'd be rescued soon and would find the first tree he could. Joshua grimaced and squeezed his legs. Don't think about it. Don't think about waterfalls or puddles of rain.

A few minutes passed. He wasn't ready to concede yet but the need was growing worse. Don't think about the garden hose or water slide. He shined the light around the room, just to see where he might pee if he wanted to. If I did take a leak in this place—which I'm not going to—where would I go?

"I wouldn't go there, I guarantee you," he said, pointing to the spot where he'd fallen. It was the best climbing area and he didn't want to leave a puddle. If he had to go, it would be in the farthest spot from where he was sleeping or climbing. Like in that corner over there. Then he noticed something strange. Huh? Was that there before?

In the corner of the cave, the spot designated for a potential urinal, there was a small burlap sack, tied with a cord. It hadn't been there when he fell asleep, he was sure of it. He scrambled over to check it out.

The sudden appearance of a strange sack was disturbing, and Joshua hesitated before picking it up. As he lifted the sack, Joshua squealed, half-expecting to feel something moving inside. Nothing moved, and he chided himself for being a wuss and untied the cord.

It was food. Food for a rabbit, perhaps, but food, nonetheless. There was a small loaf of bread and a cluster of berries. They were reddish in color, but larger than any he saw around Grisby. The bread was thick with a hard crust, the kind sopped in soup. Joshua didn't know what to do. On one hand, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. On the other hand ...

What if it's poisoned?

Poisoned berries? It was too fairy-tale sounding. He needed to eat, that was for sure, if he held any chance of climbing the wall and escaping. But what if someone put poison inside the food? Then again, if someone wanted him dead, wouldn't the person have already taken care of it? Joshua stared at the food longer, conflicted as to what to do.

The worst part was that Goon-Face must have brought the food. Joshua envisioned his captor rappelling down the side of the cave, creeping over him while he was asleep, perhaps tracing his slimy, snake-like finger across Joshua's cheek for laughs.

"Yuck!" It made him cringe. "I hate this place and I hate him!"

His mind got the best of him as he imagined myriad scenarios, the worst of which involved an entire mob of seven-foot monsters sneaking in through a magic tunnel, hovering over him and dropping spiders on his face while chanting spells. Joshua slapped at his chest, suddenly feeling spiders he knew weren't really there.

He feared what they would do the next time so, in that moment, Joshua made up his mind—he would stay awake. He wasn't about to let them drop any more spiders on him, nor snakes or cockroaches or anything else slimy and creepy. If Goon-Face and his buddies were waiting for him to fall asleep, they'd be waiting a long, long time because he was ready to stay up all night if he had to. All night, or was it daytime?

Joshua realized he'd lost all track of time. His watch had no AM/PM button. Well, one thing's for sure, I have a lot of time to figure it out because I'm not going to bed anytime soon! He sat cross-legged on the floor, the sack of food a few feet in front of him. He was hungry and would need to pee very, very soon.
Chapter 21

Holding On

_Does Mom even know I've been kidnapped?_ This was the prevalent question on his mind. Had she called the cops yet? Had she alerted the media, phoned the newspapers, gone on television and demanded the return of her son? Surely the helicopters were out in full force looking for him.

Joshua thought about a movie he'd seen about a daughter who was taken from her family and held for ransom. The kidnappers took her to an abandoned airfield and demanded a million dollars in ransom. Her parents called in the military, and before the bad guys knew what hit them, the Special Forces were flying in on choppers and storming the airfield.

"I bet Mom called the Green Berets and they're going to parachute in and put a major butt-kicking on these creeps," Joshua said. "They won't get any ransom for me, and that's a promise."

The idea of ransom was completely foreign to Joshua. What kind of ransom could they demand for him? As far as he knew, he wasn't rich. At least, he didn't think his family was rich. They sure didn't have a million dollars. His mom drove an okay car, but it wasn't anything like the people on television drove, and his dad had driven a pickup truck. Unless Dad hid a ton of money somewhere and the bad guys know about it. Or maybe there's a secret treasure.

Joshua wiped his brow. He was several feet from the ground and climbing higher. Forget about caution; he had erred on the side of bravery and eaten the food. The empty bag now lay on the floor, surrounded by crumbs from the bread. The berries actually made his throat feel better. They were tart, but the juice coated his throat that it didn't hurt much anymore when he swallowed. In the corner of the room was a puddle. Bravery always demands sacrifice.

Joshua was getting the hang of this climbing stuff. He'd quickly learned that all the weight needs to go on the legs or else the arms get too tired. He was small, but strong, and pushed off remarkably well using his legs. The higher he went, the more tricks he discovered and soon he was using his hands strictly for balance. Joshua wasn't having fun, not by a long shot—he was still a prisoner in a cave—but he did like climbing and reminded himself to ask for rope and gear on his next birthday.

The tricky part was seeing. His flashlight watch was handy and had saved the day, but the light was directional and not very bright. He had to use his arms for climbing and couldn't control the direction of the beam as his hands moved from spot to spot. In the end (a stroke of genius, he believed), Joshua solved the problem quite easily. He took off the watch and held it between his teeth. Now, the light moved in the direction of his eyes and allowed him to look for handholds.

As he climbed, it was hard for Joshua not to think of Daniel. He wished he and his brother were together right now. He was certain that if Daniel were there, he'd know what to do. He'd be able to climb the wall in no time. Of course, he'd gripe and complain the whole way. Joshua could almost hear his brother's voice. "Keep it down, Josh, or I'll punch you like a time clock!" "Stay quiet, Josh, or I'll smack you like a dirty rug!"

Joshua pressed on, tired but determined. He was almost thirty feet high and beginning to think he was going to make it. That's when he heard the noise, like the squeak of a wheel, coming from up top. It was the first sound he'd heard and made him almost jump out of his skin—and off the rock! He immediately took the watch from his mouth, doused the light, and hugged tightly against the wall, keeping his head down, afraid to look.

Minutes passed, but Joshua heard nothing. Was it his imagination, or had they caught him trying to escape? He didn't know, but he was terrified and couldn't bring himself to move. His hands, however, weren't as cooperative. In a hurry to hide against the wall, he'd placed himself in an awkward position, one with a poor foothold, and his hands cramped. Joshua wondered whether he should keep going or abandon his escape and return to the cave.

On the one hand, if he kept going, he might find his way to safety. Besides, he was already more than halfway there. On the other hand, what if the goons were waiting for him, ready to grab him as soon as he popped his head out of the hole? "I don't know what to do," he silently screamed.

He had to do something, though. He couldn't hold on any longer and it was either go up, go down, or fall—and he was sick of falling. Slowly, Joshua lifted his head to see how far it was to the top, and for the briefest of seconds, he saw a figure retreat into the darkness. There was no doubt, he was being watched.

Joshua gave up and climbed down, carefully this time, afraid of what would happen if he fell.

***

Sitting on the floor of the cave, Joshua wrestled with heavy eyelids. He resigned himself to making shadow puppets on the wall. The shadows grew longer and less distinguishable, until, while making a German shepherd, Joshua's head dropped and sleep came upon him.

As he slept, a figure emerged from above, the one Joshua spotted earlier, and quickly, with an ease of dexterity, descended the cave wall. Joshua, unaware of the person standing over him, breathed easily, lost in deep slumber.
Chapter 22

Patience Lost

"Who's there?" Joshua opened his eyes and yelled.

Nobody. He was alone. His sleep had darkened, and he woke with a sense of evil. But there was no one there.

Joshua didn't mean to fall asleep—it just happened. He'd never been able to stay awake all night, no matter how hard he tried. He was always the first to nod off when they watched late-night movies on the weekend; even on road trips, he'd be out like a light by the time they crossed the state line. Joshua rubbed his eyes and tried to refocus on his surroundings. The food bag was gone, and this made his skin crawl. For a second time, someone had paid him a visit in the night. At least Joshua assumed it was night; a place like this didn't deserve light.

It was like they were playing some twisted game, toying with him as a child does with a confused kitten. They hadn't stripped and beaten him. There were no cuts on his body, no visible signs of harm. There was solely the missing food sack, which made it all the worse.

"Show yourself!" Joshua yelled. He could no longer stand the anticipation. He'd rather be tortured by his enemy than the unknown dread he felt with each minute of being here. "If you're going to do it, do it. Get it over with, already."

His throat burning with every syllable, he screamed at the top of his lungs. He was going to make them hear, make them show themselves.

"What, are you chicken? Come on out!"

The words tumbled from his lips. He didn't bother to stop them. Every insult he could think of, every bad name he'd ever heard, he used. He knew if his mother were here, she'd wash his mouth out with soap, but anyone who would kidnap a boy and stick him in a hole deserved these names and probably several others that weren't invented yet. Joshua screamed then screamed some more. His raspy voice lifted high overhead, traveling higher than his body had been able. Even though he might live to regret this moment, Joshua let it all out, an open and verbal letter to his enemy. His face flushed scarlet and the veins on his temple looked ready to explode.

"Tell me why you're doing this to me!"

***

High overhead, in a dark and drab room, the slave paced nervously, his shoulders slumped and his countenance grim. He placed one hand on the lever of an enormous wheel, the other on an iron chain, listening for footsteps coming from the hall. Indecisive, he took his hands off the wheel and returned to his seat on the wooden stool.

Two torches on the wall served as the room's source of light. Their flames flickered as the door opened and a man, draped in blackness, entered. He addressed the slave in a droning voice. "Why do you disturb me?"

"It's the boy."

The man stood at the edge of the hole and looked at the prisoner trapped below. He noticed the boy's flushed cheeks, the beaded sweat on his brow, the way the boy clutched at his throat. "The boy calls for an audience, does he?"

"What would you have me do with him?"

"Let him scream. Leave him alive, though."

The man raised his slender, ashen finger to the slave, revealing the gold band on the sleeve of his cloak. "Now do your job. Do not summon me again. If I have to come, it won't be alone."
Chapter 23

Explanations

Alistair heard the noise coming from outside and opened the door to see what was going on. "Abracadabra!" Daniel yelled and jumped off the roof of the cabin, landing with a thud on the ground. He stood, wearing Alistair's robe from the day before and using it as a cape. "Look at me, I'm a wizard!" He scrambled back up the roof and jumped again, crashing hard on the soft grass below.

"Should I even bother to ask what you're doing?" Alistair said.

Daniel spit into his dirty hands and cleaned them on his jeans. "You see, I was thinking about it last night and here's what I decided. Either you're crazy and all that stuff about wizards and Magicals is nonsense, or you're telling the truth, which means I'm a wizard and can fly. So, I decided to test out the theory. I've been jumping off the roof all morning and all I've got to show for it is a bunch of bruises on my butt. I guess that means everything you told me was a bunch of crazy talk. The thing I can't figure out is how you changed out of the old man costume without me noticing—"

Daniel snapped his fingers. "I've got it. It was the pizza, wasn't it? That's why it tasted so terrible. You put some drug in there that made me see things. You figured you'd get me seeing weird visions then do the costume change. And you did it in front of the fire, which made it even more dramatic." Daniel clapped his hands. "That's pretty impressive, Alistair. I'll give you that much."

Alistair took a kerchief from his pocket and wiped some mud from the back of Daniel's neck. "Perhaps I am crazy, as you suggest. Or perhaps I've been telling the truth. Either way, you will find out soon enough." Alistair stepped onto the porch. "In the meantime, if you are finished with the rooftop acrobatics, breakfast is being served in the kitchen." Alistair held out his arm as Daniel walked past.

"I'll take my robe back, please."

Daniel sat at the table while Alistair brought out the food. He gave him credit, Alistair knew how to fill a table with food—lots of it. There were fruit spreads and cakes, a berry cobbler, and a tray of different nuts. In a pitcher was some juice Daniel couldn't identify, but it was delicious—a little sweeter than apple juice, not as sweet as pineapple—and Daniel polished off three glassfuls before Alistair brought out the main course.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Alistair said. He carried a thick-crusted shepherd's pie with melted cheese oozing over the sides of the dish, and Daniel's mouth began to water looking at it.

"I don't think I slept hardly at all," Daniel said and hungrily scooped a spoonful onto his plate. "And if I did, I sure couldn't tell. My thoughts and my dreams were so much alike it was hard to know which was sleep and which was awake." He quit talking long enough to take a huge bite of the shepherd's pie. "Oh, my gosh. This is awesome." Daniel shoved another bite into his mouth. "I can't believe you're the same cook who almost killed me last night."

Alistair took a sip of juice. "Well, I was working in unfamiliar territory—pizza from your world. All I had were the images in your head." He noticed the confused look on Daniel's face. "Take yourself, for example. You've suddenly found yourself in a new world, with customs and routines that strike you as odd. Imagine returning to your world and trying to describe to someone what you've seen here, but you can only use words. You can't bring a sample of our berries to give that person, or a pocketful of the pebbles you found in the stream. Could you describe your experience with enough richness of detail that the person gained a sense of what it was really like—the sights and sounds and smells?"

Alistair took out a pipe from his pocket and stuffed it with tobacco. "It's not an easy task. As I'm a stranger to your world and its interests and tastes, you are a stranger to mine."

"I guess I never thought about it that way," said Daniel. "It makes sense, though. It's like when I was trying to convince my mom to let me have my own room. I could tell her until I was blue in the face how annoying Josh was, keeping me up all night with his questions about superheroes, but she hadn't experienced it like I had." Daniel shoved a potato in his mouth and washed it down with the juice. "Trust me, if she had to experience what I did, she might have given me the whole downstairs as a reward for putting up with him as long as I did."

Alistair grinned and blew a smoke ring. The smell of tobacco filled the air.

"All right," said Daniel, his face perking up. "I've got a question for you. What was the blue light I came through? Do you have any idea?"

"Why don't you describe it to me? And leave nothing out, no matter how small the detail."

"Why? All you have to do is that jigsaw thing and you can find out for yourself. Heck, I'll even let you if it means finding out what the blue light was."

"Because I want you to rely on your words. Go ahead. Describe it using your power of speech." Alistair's eyes twinkled. "Tell me about the light."

Daniel took a deep breath and began explaining everything that happened—everything that happened. Following Alistair's advice, he recounted every detail, no matter how small, from the waterfall in his dream to the earthquake in the mausoleum. He was surprised how much he was talking but couldn't stop. He needed to tell someone and this seemed like the appropriate person and appropriate circumstance. Daniel must have talked for an hour and, once finished, stiffened his shoulders and took a drink of juice. "There," he said. "You asked for it, you got it. Now it's your turn, professor. Do your shrink routine and tell me what it all means."

Alistair reclined in his chair, hesitating before speaking. "It's the question that has puzzled me for days." He took a long draw from the pipe. "But if my suspicions are correct, and I'm fairly certain they are, then you are the first person to walk through that light in nearly seven hundred years."

Seven hundred years? Daniel cursed himself for being so gullible. One lousy moment of weakness and the next thing he knew he'd babbled on like a parrot—and to a stranger, no less. Of all the people to share his most trusted secrets with, he'd picked a crazy man.

Alistair rose and cleared the table. He returned long enough to re-stuff his pipe. He looked around for a match but didn't see one. "No matter," he said, shaping his fingers like a bowl. He blew gently into his hands and, from out of nowhere, a flame appeared. Lighting his pipe, he turned to Daniel. "Follow me. I have something to show you." He disappeared from the room.

The trick with the flame caught Daniel by surprise—and frustrated him. Every time he was ready to write Alistair off as a nut, he did something cool like that. Daniel didn't know if he wanted to follow or not. He wasn't sure he was ready for any more of Alistair's tricks. Then again, Alistair had aroused his curiosity. There was no telling what he'd do next, and Daniel didn't want to miss out if it was something really cool. He waffled for a few minutes before finally leaving his chair.

Daniel stepped into the main room. He looked around but the room was empty. That's weird, he thought. Where did he disappear to? "Alistair!" he called but got no response. "This isn't funny, Alistair. Where'd you go?"

"Out here," a voice answered. "Out the back door."

Daniel did a double take. Was that here all along? How did I not see that? Daniel opened the door and stepped into an ocean of blue light, for as far as the eye could see.

His first instinct was to panic. Seeing the light brought back memories Daniel was trying to forget. But he heard Alistair's voice, calling from somewhere in the distance, and it put his mind at ease. He was certain he was in no danger this time, and in fact, he realized, it was possible Alistair was taking him home. Once he got clear of the blue light, he'd be back in Grisby and everything would go back to normal—the way it used to be.

As Daniel made his way through the light, it was a weird mix of emotions for him to experience. He was glad to finally be going home but surprised to find himself a little disappointed. This had become sort of a vacation and part of him was sad he couldn't stay longer. He was visiting a new world and wanted to explore it a little more. Besides, he had school the next day, and who would want to go back to that?

Normally, this would be a perfect opportunity for Daniel to say something like, "If I can milk my absence for another couple of days, I'll really get Mom's sympathy. She might even revoke my grounding." But he didn't feel like joking at the moment, so he kept quiet and followed Alistair's voice through the light.

***

Alistair stood at the cliff's edge, looking out over the ocean. The waves broke in rhythm against the shore and Daniel realized, even though it didn't look the same, he would know this place anywhere. "This used to be your home many, many years ago," said Alistair, motioning for Daniel to join him.

In the distance, some gulls cried, while the moon cast its shadow over the sea. Daniel breathed deeply and took in the smell of the ocean air. Though he grew up here, he'd never taken it for granted—the sea and sand, all of its grandeur.

"This is first time I've seen the ocean," Alistair said. "I've read about it, heard stories about it. But seeing it with my own eyes, I understand its power. I can see why he was drawn to it."

"Who?" Daniel asked. "Why who was drawn to it?"

"Illian."

"Illian? You actually know that name? You know who Illian was?"

"Of course, I know who he was. It was over him, and his death, that the battle was begun."

Several moments passed in silence. Alistair allowed the scenery to fill his senses, while Daniel came to grips with what he'd heard. Alistair was first to speak.

"The blue light you saw was once an ancient portal, so ancient no one knows when it was created or who created it. Some say it has always been. Whatever the case, the portal served as a doorway between our worlds. Magicals and men came and went as they pleased." Alistair watched a wave come upon the shore. He let his arms fall to his side. "Where did I leave off last night?"

"The last thing you told me was about the shovel floating through the air and Meruzilak disappearing and no one ever seeing him again."

Alistair nodded. "As I said, perhaps our greatest mistake was the assumption that Meruzilak was dead, or that he was harmless. Man and Magical alike, we share a common trait. We underestimate those who can do us the most harm. As a result, we rarely see danger until it comes upon us. By then, it is often too late.

"After his parents were killed, Meruzilak disappeared into hiding. Centuries passed and mention of his name became rare. If it was spoken, it was regarded as folklore. As my ancestors grew older, they grew lazy. They allowed Meruzilak to become nothing more than an afterthought. What no one knew was that Meruzilak was strengthening his magic while in hiding. His plot for revenge demanded secrecy, and we afforded it to him.

"You see, Daniel, I asked you to describe your experiences in words because history has always been communicated by words. However, memory can grow distant. We start to forget, until it becomes nothing more than an itch at the corner of our minds.

"There were a few who didn't forget, Magicals who sought to preserve the legacy of their ancestors and were ready to fight to uphold their convictions. Illian was one of these Magicals, along with his sister, Illiana. Aside from Meruzilak, they were the most powerful wizards in the land. They were also Meruzilak's greatest threat."

Daniel stood spellbound. Was Alistair making this stuff up on the fly? Was he that good of a storyteller that he could use the names Daniel gave him at breakfast and invent a story like this? Daniel didn't think so and kept listening.

"Illian didn't believe Meruzilak was dead. In fact, he mistrusted all accounts of his whereabouts. He foresaw Meruzilak being driven by a quest for vengeance and knew he must stop him before he became too powerful. His plan was dangerous, which is why he kept it secret from Illiana and went to search for Meruzilak on his own."

Alistair paused. His blue eyes stared reflectively at an unknown point in the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more resigned. "History doesn't always have a happy ending. Sometimes our best intentions play right into the hands of our enemies. Illian found Meruzilak, but when he did, he found a wizard at the apex of his powers. Centuries of training and a lifetime of hatred had allowed him to become more powerful than anyone imagined. Illian fought well, but Meruzilak's magic proved too strong.

"When Illiana realized what Illian had done, she and her closest friends, Sebastian and Cornelius, journeyed to find him. Unfortunately, they found him too late. All Illiana could do was watch as her brother died by Meruzilak's hands."

Daniel felt a lump in his throat, remembering the encounter on the bluff. It was no wonder she looked sad. For a story that started so well, this one was getting worse by the second and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear more.

"It was the most difficult thing Illiana had ever done—letting her brother's killer go free—but she had no choice. Without Illian, they were powerless to defeat Meruzilak, so they gathered Illian's body and departed. They decided it fitting to bury him near the place he loved best, the ocean, so they took his body through the portal. Little did they know it was for the last time."

Alistair motioned for Daniel to turn around, which he did. The blue light was no longer there, simply the land around the bluff Daniel had seen a hundred times before.

"There are similarities, Daniel, between our world and yours—blind assumptions, an arrogance that comes with power, the desire to crush anyone who threatens that power. These are traits present in man and Magical, though worlds apart.

"Meruzilak watched the visitors leave. Through his crystals, he saw them escape through the portal. His plan had been to murder them separately, so as to not invite suspicion. But now, Meruzilak realized that rather than killing them, he could exact a more painful vengeance. He'd make them spend the rest of their lives on earth, forever separated from their homes and families. He cast a spell over the portal, sealing it shut and making it invisible, preventing anyone from ever finding it again. With the portal closed, they could never return. It was his first revenge."

Alistair turned his eyes to Daniel. "What you see is a shadow of a forgotten age, a window to a distant past. Take a look at your home as it used to be. Listen to the voices of your ancestors. Hear what they have to say." Alistair waved his arm and everything went black. The next thing Daniel knew he was back in the living room, sitting on the couch by the fire.

He was about to complain, about to scoff at what he'd seen. It was surely a hallucination brought on by the berry cobbler. Daniel was getting ready to tell Alistair off for good when Alistair put a hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. "Never forget what I've told you. Keep it close. Protect it throughout your lifetime."

Daniel turned to look but Alistair was gone. He had vanished.
Chapter 24

Joshua's Ascent

They didn't come. No one came—not the good guys, not the bad guys, not anyone. Joshua screamed until his voice gave out, but to no avail. If anyone heard him, it was painfully obvious that person didn't care about a boy being kept in a cave.

The light on his watch was also growing dim; it was a matter of time before it quit altogether. He could keep it turned on, burning the battery until it was dead, or use it sparingly, which meant many hours spent in darkness. Neither option sounded good. Joshua lay down and switched off the light. He wrapped his arms around himself and shut his eyes, but he wasn't trying to sleep. He was trying to block out the awareness of his new home, which he hated with everything in him.

***

Staggor waited until he was certain the boy was asleep and went to check the hallway for footsteps. Hearing nothing, he returned to the mouth of the cave and climbed over. He descended the wall with ease, zigzagging across its surface, not unlike a lizard making its way across a mountainside. The last several feet, he jumped to the floor, landing on the iron grate without making a sound.

As quietly as he'd come, Staggor retrieved the food sack. The boy, once again, had eaten the berries and bread. Staggor stepped barefoot across the floor and stood at Joshua's side. His face betrayed no emotion as he watched the boy sleep.

Standing over the boy, his presence cast an ominous tone. His feet were clawed and scaly and looked to be tougher than tree bark. His legs were muscular and thick, and he wore tattered brown pants with no pockets, tied at the waist with a black rope. There was a severe curvature at the spine that he covered with a loose-fitting charcoal shirt. His fingers were stubby, with thick nails.

In the darkness, these features would be easy to miss. Perhaps the lone identifiable feature would be Staggor's eyes, which glowed reddish-yellow. Other than that, an average person might mistake him for a normal, hunchbacked man. Doubtful he'd notice Staggor's thick-ridged tail, which hung to the ground behind his legs. A half-human, half-reptile, cursed to a life of shadows. Staggor watched Joshua for a moment longer then took his place on the wall.

Staggor climbed swiftly, as one whose job was done, wasting little movement and never overextending his reach, holding the burlap sack in his hand as he climbed. Staggor was born for this type of world, born to mount surfaces normal humans couldn't, born immune from clumsiness and growing cold, born to move as one invisible and unheard. A life of secrecy, and a life alone.

Staggor ascended to the top and was pulling himself over the edge when he realized he'd made a severe mistake in thinking he was alone. Ralmaghar stood in front of him, his eyes burning a hole through Staggor's. Staggor hid the sack of food behind his back, a look of dread evident on his face.

"What were you doing?" Ralmaghar asked.

N-n-nothing," Staggor answered. "I was checking on the prisoner."

Ralmaghar remained silent. His eyes accused without the assistance of words. "Bring up the boy," he spoke.

***

Joshua heard the man climb into his cell but was too afraid to open his eyes. Instead, he pretended to be asleep. It wasn't easy. The man stood there forever, breathing over him in hissing tones. When everything inside him wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, Joshua kept quiet. While his skin felt like caterpillars crawling, he remained still.

Though every second here had felt like torture, Joshua had grown used to this place. It wasn't that he'd choose to stay, not a chance—should someone open a trap door and beckon him to follow, Joshua would jump through without a second's hesitation—but the reality was nothing bad had happened to him. With the exception of his food messenger, he'd seen no bad guys; he hadn't been tortured; and though he feared it was to fatten him up, he'd been fed regularly enough to avoid starving. It was in his mind that he'd been attacked by deadly spiders. His fear was over what was to come, what they were going to do to him—a fear of the unknown.

That all changed when the ground began to move.

The moan of grinding iron filled the silent cave. With each crank, the floor rose a foot or two at a time. Joshua cowered, his arms wrapped around his knees in a protective ball. The distance between him and them was slowly shrinking, and Joshua felt as helpless as ever. He couldn't jump off or climb his way to safety. His fear of the unknown was coming true before his eyes and he wished he hadn't gotten mad and screamed at the bad guys. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut, he'd still be in his cell. "I want to go back down," he cried.

Meanwhile, the iron elevator kept rising, almost halfway there. In a matter of minutes, Joshua would stand face to face with his captors.

I'm not supposed to be here, he thought. I should be home right now, playing in the woods, throwing the football or pretending to be sick so I can play hooky from school. This isn't fair. But then he heard a voice in his head. "The best a boy can do is to look trouble in the eye, regardless of his fear, and fight with courage. That's true bravery."

Joshua raised his head, spitting at the wall in disgust. "You don't do this to a Braden," he said, placing his hands on the wall and pressing with all his might. "I'm not going to sit here so they can use me for Thanksgiving dinner." It was no use, however—it was like trying to slow an escalator with a safety pin. He grabbed one of the chains and threw all his weight upon it, but his sixty-pound body was no match against forged steel, and Joshua saw the light from the top growing brighter. He jumped up and down on the floor. "Nobody does this to a Braden," he screamed.

Joshua was tired of being ordered around by these creeps—having to eat their stupid berries, being forced to sleep on a hard floor, being taking hostage without even knowing why. "Nobody forces me into anything." Joshua pulled hard on the chain, trying to slow it down. "The only people that can order me around are my mom and dad ..."

Joshua let go of the chain. For a second, he'd forgotten. His mind flashed back to the day of the funeral. He saw his mom and Daniel standing on the steps, about to enter the mausoleum. She didn't force him to come, though. It surprised him in a way; he expected her to after the tantrum he'd thrown. But, instead, she knelt beside him and kissed him on the cheek, then she and Daniel stepped inside.

"She's the only person who can tell me what to do!" Joshua tightened his mouth in anger. "Nobody else! Do you understand? Nobody!" Seconds later, the floor stopped moving.

This was it, what he'd been waiting for. Joshua kept his fists clenched, so much so that his knuckles turned red. "Bring it on," he whispered.

As Staggor locked the massive wheel in place and turned to face Joshua, Joshua did his best to portray an attitude of courage. But it was difficult. In the dark, Staggor appeared as a shadow, a phantom figure with a hidden face. Now, Joshua saw Staggor was as much lizard as man and couldn't take his eyes off him, especially his tail, which was scaly and looked to have been injured multiple times by deep cuts.

Their eyes met, but neither flinched. Joshua refused to blink—there was no way he was letting anyone see him scared. Staggor showed no hint of emotion. He looked at Joshua with an expressionless stare, though something appeared hidden within his eyes. Whether it was compassion or hatred, it was impossible to tell. Staggor had probably seen enough over the years that nothing fazed him.

Joshua was so focused on Staggor—and shocked by his features—that he hadn't laid eyes upon the bare room, the open doorway, not even the enormous wheel that raised him from the ground. He'd also failed to notice the giant standing at the opposite end of the room, which he saw out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, no, not you again!"

They were meeting for the second time. Ralmaghar, the one who captured Joshua outside the mausoleum and lifted him as easily as he would a wet newspaper, the one who took him through the blue light, and the one standing in front of him now, watching Joshua with black eyes. Their first encounter was bad enough and it happened in Grisby, on Joshua's home turf. How much worse would it be this time around? Joshua hastily looked around, not wanting to go through the introductions of a second meeting. He saw the open doorway and ran as hard as he could for it.

Ralmaghar, without a hint of panic, flashed his arm in that direction. The heavy wooden door slammed shut before Joshua reached it. The brass bolt lifted and slid into its chamber, locking the entrance and preventing Joshua's escape.

Joshua pounded his fists against the door. "What do you want with me? Huh? Tell me, Ugly-Face. What do you want?"

Ralmaghar remained silent, which frustrated Joshua more. "Come on, Ugly-Face. If you're so tough, say something. You think you're tough, picking on a boy. Why don't you try picking on someone your own size? I bet you aren't so tough, then. You'll probably run away and hide like a little—"

"Enough talking," Ralmaghar said, lifting his arm and turning his palm upward.

"You're so ug—" Joshua felt something tighten in his throat. Huh? He put his hands to his neck. Something was happening, stuff was moving around in there. He tried to massage his throat but pulled his hands away. It was gross and felt like worms. Joshua felt the sudden urge to gag and coughed open his mouth.

Vines were growing from Joshua's throat. Dozens of them, green vines, twisting and twirling together. Quickly, with rapid precision, they stuck through the skin of his mouth, in and out, sewing his lips like sutures. Joshua stood in shock, looking down cross-eyed at what was happening. The vines were stitching his mouth shut, like an old lady does with her needlepoint. "Mmmmm." Joshua raised his fist and tried to speak. "Mmmmm Mmmmm," was all he managed.

Ralmaghar took a step forward. He may have been closer to eight feet tall, and Joshua realized he didn't even come up to his waist. Joshua ripped at the sewn vines with both of his hands but couldn't loosen them. They wouldn't budge.

"Follow me," Ralmaghar ordered. He lifted his torch, unbolted the door, and stepped into the hallway.
Chapter 25

Ralmaghar

To Joshua's horror, Staggor stayed behind, leaving him in a dark corridor with Ralmaghar. It was almost more than he could bear—almost. Joshua's capacity to endure had grown more in the past days than in all his years combined.

It wasn't as if Staggor was the friendliest of creatures, nor the easiest on the eyes. He was half lizard and fully grotesque, but if Joshua had to choose between the lesser of two evils, he'd take Staggor over Ralmaghar any day of the week and twice on Saturday. With a pleading look, as if to say, "Please don't leave me alone with him," Joshua met Staggor's eyes. Staggor, in turn, shut the door in his face.

The hallway was dark. Its walls were narrow and high, and the shadows cast by the torchlight played tricks with Joshua's mind. Perhaps it was because of the damp air, or maybe the fact that he'd been locked alone for days, but whatever the case, Joshua saw strange shapes within the shadows. Goblins and ghouls floated past him. A host of bats flew by and, for a second, it looked like one of them was reaching to grab him. Joshua put his arms in front of his face to protect himself. When he looked up, all he saw was a normal shadow.

Okay, I'm imagining things. They can't be real. Here, I'll prove it. He reached out to touch the wall and, as his hand grazed the surface, a humongous spider crawled over his knuckles. Its legs were bristly and hairy, and Joshua jumped in fright, violently drawing back his arm. They're shadows. They're not real, so don't touch!

Joshua was embarrassed about getting scared over a silly shadow and imagined the abuse Daniel would give him if he were there to see it. Of course, what would Daniel say if he saw Joshua's mouth tied together with vines? "Why didn't I think of that? I've been looking for a way to shut you up for years." That would be Daniel's most likely response, then he'd beg Ralmaghar to show him the trick so he could use it on future occasions.

Joshua put his fingers to his lips and felt the vines. How did he do it? Or the thing with the door? It had all been too bizarre ... too magic. Magic. The word stuck in his mind. Was it possible he was standing in the presence of a real magician? Joshua focused his attention on Ralmaghar. His head almost bumped the ceiling as he walked, while his cloak draped the floor behind him.

One thing's for sure, if he is a magician, then he's in a whole different league than the cheesy guys in tuxedos who pull bunnies out of top hats and pretend to saw ladies in half onstage.

No, if those guys were considered magicians and everything they did was done by trick mirrors and two-sided coins, this guy was a not a magician. He was something far greater. If there is such a thing as a real-life wizard, he is definitely one of them.

The hallway came to a dead end. Ralmaghar bent low and leaned into the wall, close enough to kiss it, and whispered foreign words Joshua didn't understand. The ground roared and a door rolled back. "Go," Ralmaghar said, pointing toward the open doorway. Joshua, hiding his eyes from Ralmaghar's gaze, stepped into a dark stairwell.

Ralmaghar lifted his torch and shined the light on a steep and winding staircase. Joshua looked up and saw stairs, hundreds of them, maybe more, winding around a metal base like stripes on a candy cane. "Go," said Ralmaghar, brusquely.

Joshua hesitantly stepped onto the lowest stair. Is that the only word you know? You could at least ask politely, jerk.

With a magnificent gesture, Ralmaghar stretched both arms overhead, torch in one hand, palm of the other turned outward. With arms extended, Ralmaghar was enormous, a colossus atop a pedestal, and Joshua's first thought was that he could probably dunk a basketball without even standing on his tiptoes. Ralmaghar pointed his torch at the wall and flames exploded from his hand, lighting the wall on fire.

Joshua watched in amazement, his eyes as round as saucers. The blaze spread instantly, rising higher and higher, engulfing the wall in scarlet flame. Had his mouth not been sewn shut, it wouldn't have mattered—Joshua still would have been speechless. A wall of flame, encircling a stairwell of a thousand steps, stretched as far as the eye could see. By pointing his torch, Ralmaghar had thrown a quilt of fire over the room, and if Joshua had any remaining doubt about Ralmaghar being an authentic wizard, it was forever put to rest.

Ralmaghar turned his palm upward and, with a sudden jolt, the steps jerked forward and began to rise. Joshua tumbled headfirst, unprepared for the force of the movement. He wrapped his arms around the base of his stair, holding as tightly as he could, but the steps moved too fast and he quickly lost his grip. Looking down, Joshua gasped in fear. They were soaring high above the ground, surrounded on all sides by fire—and he was about to fall off.

He grabbed hold of the pointed edge of the stair, which dug into his hands. Joshua looked around for anything else to hold and that's when he realized the steps weren't attached to anything. No levers, bars, or mounting rods. Like separate islands in an ocean, each step floated on its own, nothing holding it in place, spinning around the stairwell in an ascending, spiraling motion. Now, this is a good trick, Joshua thought, pulling himself aboard the step.

Faster and faster the stairs flew. With each time around, Joshua got dizzier and dizzier, so much so that he thought he might throw up. Just look straight ahead, he reminded himself, hugging the step with both arms. Don't look down, no matter what.

As Joshua fixed his gaze on the wall in front of him, he felt the heat on his face. Perhaps he should have shut his eyes, but he didn't. For some reason, he felt compelled to watch. Like riding a roller coaster, there is an excitement that comes with fear. And one thing was for sure, there wasn't a coaster in California that came close to matching this.

As the blaze bristled, the sounds intensified. From within the flame, a voice cried out. It started as a faint whisper, nothing more than a breeze, but the voice grew and multiplied into a host of others. Faces emerged from the flames, hundreds of them, their skin stretched like tanned hide. They writhed in agony; their cries pierced Joshua's ears. Tortured faces, as far as Joshua could see, screaming for escape.

The voices stopped and the faces retreated into the flames. With no warning, the stairs lunged forward and kicked into a higher gear. They sprinted upward, circling the base of the stairwell. Joshua's legs flailed, as he desperately tried to hold on. He had one hope left—Ralmaghar, the one he feared the most.

Joshua looked up at the giant standing placidly against the backdrop of fire, perfectly balanced and callously indifferent. Help me!

Ralmaghar stared calmly ahead, paying no attention to Joshua.

Thanks a lot, jerk! His fingers slipped ... and Joshua fell.

What a place to find oneself, caught between safety and disaster. The sensations and images came too fast for Joshua to make sense of them. Colors brighter than any he'd seen, tones more resplendent than any he'd heard. Past the spinning staircase he fell, reaching for anything, finding nothing. Helpless, Joshua plunged from a hundred and fifty feet.

Ralmaghar reached out his arm without bothering to look. In fact, he didn't so much as turn his head. He raised his arm and curled his fingers inward. As quickly as Joshua had fallen, he was now raised. The stairs whizzed by in a blur, as the fire continued its scarlet burn. Joshua landed on his original step, as the stairwell came to a stop.

Ralmaghar waved his hand at a stone door and it slowly rolled back. "Come," he commanded, stepping through the entryway. Still dizzy, Joshua stumbled, though he managed to stay on his feet. Teetering, he followed Ralmaghar through the doorway—into the Hall of Meruzilak.
Chapter 26

Searchlights

The afternoon passed. It settled into early evening, and Daniel was bored. Well, maybe he wasn't bored but he was restless. If he was going to be on vacation, he didn't want to spend every minute cooped up in Alistair's cabin. The problem was he didn't dare ask Alistair to go exploring. He knew the answer he'd get. He didn't want Alistair tagging along, either.

Nothing against the guy; in fact, Daniel was starting to like him. But he desperately wanted some alone time and it left him with one option. If I can sneak out of our house as many times as I have and never get caught, I'm pretty sure I can sneak out of this one. He grabbed his pack and climbed out the bedroom window.

Now, this was more like it. Daniel looked around at the scenery and nodded with approval. Finally, he'd get to enjoy some peace and quiet and explore the woods around Alistair's property. "This is what vacations were made for," he said.

The twilight was calm and the cool breeze blew across his face. He realized it was the first chance he'd had in days to relax. It was like he'd been caught in a whirlwind and was finally being set down. Daniel thought about his mom and Joshua and wondered if they were worried about him. He felt guilty but told himself, "I'll see them soon enough, and then I'll make it up to them."

Whatever this place was, Daniel noticed, it was stunning. The colors appeared a little more vibrant here, the landscape a touch more awe-inspiring. The hills rolled more and the wind blew in a quiet whisper. All in all, everything was more—how could he put it?—more painted here. He ran down an embankment and stumbled upon a small riverbed. Several lily pads dotted the surface of the water and Daniel saw a small frog leaping from pad to pad. Seeing the frog made him happy—it was good to know some things didn't change, no matter where you were. Daniel picked up a handful of rocks and skipped them across the water.

Walking the riverbed, he thought about what Alistair told him after lunch about Meruzilak and the portal, and how Illiana and her friends were never allowed to return home. He couldn't imagine not being able to see his home again, or his friends and family. How many times had he joked about it over the years, about wanting to run away and be on his own? Too many to count. But truth be told, it scared him to think about being completely on his own. Though he enjoyed getting away and exploring new places, what made it worthwhile was knowing he could always return to his own bed.

Daniel sat on the bank of the river and took off his pack. He held up the onyx and looked at it closely, remembering the way it felt in his hand in the library. So what does this have to do with everything?

Alistair said Cornelius perceived cause and effect. But what did that mean? Illiana had a premonition of something terrible happening in their world. But being trapped on earth, they were powerless to stop it. Cornelius, looking many years into the future ("many, many, many years into the future," Alistair added) saw a way to make right what had been done, and it involved Daniel and the stone he was carrying.

"It's got to be a mistake," Daniel told him. "There's no way this was meant for me. They've got the wrong guy. It's as simple as that."

Alistair was less convinced. "Did you ever have a suspicion there was more to your family than you knew, or there were secrets no one had told you? Have you never seen strange occurrences you couldn't explain? Of course, you have. You couldn't explain them so you ignored them. But they were there, hidden deep, waiting to surface. Waiting until the moment was right."

Until the moment was right. That part stuck with him and Daniel whispered it several times aloud. "What did Alistair mean, when the moment was right? When is the moment ever right? All my life, I've never been anywhere but the wrong place at the wrong time."

Yeah, there had been some weird things, but weird things happened in every family. His friend Scott was born with six toes, but that didn't mean he was a wizard.

Daniel kept moving. He saw a group of trees in the distance and wanted to check them out. They didn't look like any trees he'd seen before, thicker at the base, with low-hanging willows. Their appearance was solemn, mysterious; in fact, the area itself was darker, almost sanctuary-like, as if separate from the rest of the land. Separate on purpose.

Daniel moved among them. How long had they been here—a thousand years, a million years? How did time work in this place, anyway? Alistair said the Magicals couldn't remain on earth too long or they'd get old. Daniel wondered how that worked. Was it like some weird space-time continuum? When I get back home, will I still look the same? What if I get back and I've skipped all the way to the ninth grade? I might be the only one in my class with a beard.

He rubbed his hand along the bark of the trees. The trunks had grown so gnarled over the years that they almost looked like carvings, and Daniel thought for a second he was seeing things because, from one of the knots in the bark, he imagined the outline of a face forming. He blinked, and it was gone.

Nobody will believe me when I tell them about this back home. Of course, I wouldn't believe me, either. It's crazy. I feel like any minute I'm going to wake up with my head plastered to the bus window and Stephanie Meacham will be sitting beside me and annoying me like always.

Usually when it came to exciting things happening to him and his friends, Stevie was the winner. Every year, his dad took them on amazing vacations. Ski trips, snorkeling in the ocean, even a trip to an Old West ghost town. None of the guys ever topped his stories—until now, that was. "I can't wait to get home and see the looks on their faces," Daniel said with a grin.

Actually, he couldn't wait to get home, period. It didn't matter if he ever got a chance to top Stevie's trip to the ghost town. If he had a choice between normal everyday life and this, he'd take his boring life and be happy with it if it meant going home.

Just let me shut my eyes and be back in Grisby. Maybe get a chance to say goodbye to Alistair, but that's about it. I mean, this has been fun and all. Who wouldn't want to get zapped up in a magic portal that's been sealed for seven hundred years? But I'm ready to get out of here.

Daniel stepped on a branch underfoot. He was surprised how loud the crackling was. In fact, he was surprised at a lot of things. He'd been so engrossed in thought that he was unaware of how dark it had become—much too dark, and much too quickly. "And where in the world did the sun go? Was there some sort of eclipse? How am I supposed to get back now?"

It was true. Even in daylight, he'd have difficulty finding his way back to the cabin. It wasn't like he'd been leaving a trail of berries or anything. In the dark, he had no chance. "Oh man, I wish I had a cell phone to call Alistair. Why did I have to be so stupid and sneak out without telling him?"

He didn't dwell on the question for long. He saw four lights rising in the sky. Shooting stars, in reverse. Only no way were these stars. They were much too big and way too bright, and Daniel's senses heightened. Alarm bells went off in his head. Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn't consider it a big deal. After all, there were millions of stars in the sky, plus all the comets and asteroids. He even once watched a show about a meteor shower that burned a whole village. But he'd stopped dealing in the world of ordinary. Something strange was happening and he doubted it was something good.

As if someone flipped a switch, each of the stars shined a huge spotlight upon the ground and the lights swept across the landscape, illuminating everything in their path. They streaked over the land in orbital patterns, and with each pass, Daniel heard commotion of all sorts: birds fleeing their shelter, the cries of the kookaburra, shrieks of displaced chipmunks. In the distance, Daniel heard the howl of a coyote and, for a second, even thought he heard people sounds.

They were forcing life out of its hiding, and Daniel knew they were headed his way. How could they not be—the sudden disappearance of the sun followed by their emergence? Daniel took off. It seemed these days his whole life revolved around one thing—running—but it sure as heck beat the alternative. He'd never met this Meruzilak guy (didn't really want to), but he'd heard enough stories to know that, if the searchlights spotted him, formal introductions wouldn't be too far off.

He reached the entrance to the sanctuary, but as he did, the lead searchlight broke through and almost spotted him. Daniel turned and ran the other way. One of the others zigzagged and made a beeline in his direction. They weren't going to make this easy, were they? Well, no matter, he thought. He outran the bad guy in Grisby, he'd do the same here. Only problem was that, in Grisby, Daniel had familiarity working in his favor. He was stripped of it now and didn't know where he was going.

The sanctuary had become maze-like and, worse yet, the lights were getting closer. Daniel knew exactly what they were doing—quartering off, trying to pin him in on all sides. If that happened, they'd sweep toward the center and trap him in the middle. Daniel was in trouble, and he knew it.

Deeper into the sanctuary he ran, the lights circling in on him. One shone upon a cluster of trees, not too far away, and a group of birds shot out from among the branches. Daniel ran a short ways, then stopped under the leaves of a willow tree.

He leaned against its bark and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He knew he was wasting valuable time but didn't care, as he needed to get control of his nerves. "Come on, Daniel, think," he told himself and went over the options. He could keep running, but it did no good unless he knew where he was going. He could be going in circles, or worse yet, heading straight into a trap. The thought of being caught by Meruzilak sounded more and more terrible—just hearing the name in his head frightened him.

Daniel held up his hands and saw they were shaking. Actually, it was more like trembling, and so were his legs. To make matters worse, his adrenaline must be throwing off his vision because he was certain he'd seen the tree move.

"Hey, that tickles," Daniel said as a willow crept along the back of his neck. He pushed himself away from the bark. "Okay, get a hold of yourself. It's the wind." Which might have been a reasonable assumption had there been a breeze.

The tree was moving. Its root slithered past his shoes, while its branches bent low and lurched in his direction. Its willows, like fingers slipping out of a mitten, slowly uncurled, reaching upward until they met those of their neighbor tree, then the trees knit themselves together, weaving their branches to form an archway over Daniel's head.

One by one, the willows of the sanctuary followed suit. Sewing their leaves to those around them, they formed a canopy under which Daniel could travel. The sky overhead grew less and less visible, and he realized what the trees were doing—hiding him from the searchlights. Not only that, they were giving him a road map. As long as he stayed underneath, the trail would lead him out of the sanctuary and, he hoped, far away from Meruzilak.

To the right, the path opened and Daniel ran in its direction. It was a little disconcerting. For all he knew, it could be a trap—the lights spot him and the vines snare him—but he followed, anyway, careful to stay hidden under the awning of leaves.

The pathway came to an end and emptied into a small clearing. In front of him, Daniel saw a chubby tree with long, brown pine needles. Its branches, like ladders, cast long shadows across the doleful sky. A figure stepped out from behind them.

"Alistair, is that you? Alistair, did you do all this?"

Alistair didn't speak. Instead, he knelt on the ground and placed his hands against the base of the tree. "Shaluhk Amahrach," he whispered into the pines. The pines spread, the bark rolled away, and the two of them stepped inside.
Chapter 27

Secrets Revealed

Lighting a torch from the wall, Alistair led the way down a steep flight of stairs. The wood was old and Daniel felt his feet shaking with each step. How was it possible that he was walking down an underground staircase inside of a tree? Maybe there would be time for explanations later, but for now he kept his mouth shut. Besides, he wasn't sure if Alistair was mad at him for sneaking out. He wouldn't blame him if he was.

It was crazy: one minute, he was skipping rocks by the riverbed and the next minute running for his life. And what the heck were those lights? Alistair definitely showed up in the nick of time. Another couple of seconds and they would have—never mind. He didn't want to think about what might have happened if Alistair hadn't come.

The stairs ushered them into a long hallway. Alistair cast his torch forward and Daniel realized it was a tunnel, not that much different from the old copper mines he'd seen. The difference was its walls were narrower, its ceiling more worn. The lone sound to be heard came from the flicker of the torchlight.

"Where are we?" Daniel asked. He kept his voice to a whisper; there was a feeling of reverence to this place that he didn't want to disturb.

"The Temple of the Ancients."

"The Ancients?"

"The Ancients are the keepers of the past and the first to inhabit these lands. They built this as a sanctuary for those in trouble." Alistair pointed the torchlight at the wall and Daniel noticed strange drawings covering its surface. He leaned in to get a closer look. "Along these walls," Alistair said, "is told a history of our land, scribed by the Ancients throughout the centuries."

Daniel let his eyes roll over the images. The first thing he noticed was they weren't like the old hieroglyphic images of mummies and pharaohs in the pyramids. These were more crafted, intricately designed. He didn't know what they were or what they meant but was able to discern a few familiar images, most notably a castle, carved with phantasmal creatures circling its turrets. Daniel traced his fingers along its outline, unable to hide his enthusiasm.

"These are incredible. It's like taking a trip to a museum, except these are painted on stone and not on canvas. I mean, look at this mountain. It looks so real." He reached out his hand to touch it but instantly recoiled. "What was that?" he cried. He reached again to touch the mountain but, instead, doubled over in pain.

It felt like his head was about to explode with what sounded like a million voices screaming into his ears, forcing their way through every inch of his skull. Daniel fell to his knees, begging them to stop, but he couldn't speak. It hurt too much to open his mouth. Daniel curled into a ball and put his hands over his ears, trying to shut out the nightmare of voices. Everything around him started spinning and he thought for sure he was going to pass out.

The voices gradually dissipated; the pain subsided. Daniel heard Alistair's voice calling to him. "Daniel, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

"What was that?" Daniel asked, a look of terror written on his face.

Alistair spoke with a solemn tone. "The longer one lives here, the more he hears them. They are the tortured souls of Meruzilak, and the reason you are here. Now, come. Follow me."

It was all Daniel could do to stand without falling. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet; somehow he managed to follow.

***

They reached the end of the tunnel and Alistair pushed against the wall. It rolled away and they stepped outside a large hollowed boulder. In the distance, Daniel saw the retreating searchlights. The land was quiet again. Alistair stopped at the edge of the river, bent down, and gently rubbed his hand along the water's surface. From out of the mist, a small canoe made its way toward them. "This way," he said, stepping into the boat. "Watch your step."

Alistair reached into a pack sitting on the floor of the canoe and pulled out a cloak. "Put this on. It will get cold tonight. You will be glad for it." Alistair pointed his arm to the right and the canoe followed his lead. Moving slowly with the current, they put distance between themselves and Meruzilak's searchlights.

There were so many questions Daniel wanted to ask that he didn't know where to begin, so he picked the first that came to mind. "How did you find me?"

Alistair scoffed. "Find you? I never lost you."

"Well, if you knew where I was, how come it took you so long? You almost let them catch me."

"Since you arrived, I've been shielding you from Meruzilak as best as I could. Once you stepped outside the cabin, it made no difference if I found you within a few seconds or a few hours. You were away from my protection and your presence was felt. I left you as long as I did to see how near he was—to see if he would show his hand, which he did. And now we know he is close.

"You have opened a doorway from a long time ago, Daniel, and it has not gone unnoticed. Believe what you want about me and everything I've told you. But have no doubt about this, he will be looking for you, and if he finds you, he will show you no mercy. He never does."

Alistair guided the canoe toward deeper water. "Be careful what you wish for, Daniel. You wish for excitement when you should be wishing for safety. You long for independence but you should be looking for someone to walk beside you." He handed Daniel an oar and motioned for him to paddle. "Before you crawl through open doors," Alistair said, "be sure what is on the other side."

They traveled in darkness for several hours. The air got colder, and Daniel hugged tightly the cloak Alistair had given him. He wasn't sure why Alistair gave him the paddle—all he had to do was steer with his magic—but Daniel paddled, nonetheless.

They passed the time in silence. Daniel didn't feel like talking, or perhaps more than that, he was tired of listening. He was certain Alistair would explain what he meant by "imprisoned souls" and "Temple of the Ancients," but right now he was having a hard enough time wrapping his head around everything else. In Daniel's world, none of this made sense. People didn't change shapes. Trees didn't have underground tunnels. But in whatever weird, messed-up world this was, it all made perfect sense. Everything he'd seen so far convinced him this world was real. But if it was real, it meant everything Alistair had told him was true, also—and that was the problem. He didn't want it to be.

Daniel had no idea what he'd done to open an ancient portal. It was surely all a mistake, but who would listen to him? He couldn't go back and do it over again, this time refusing to take the stone from Illiana. And even if he could, it still wouldn't explain the monster in the lake. Why did I have those dreams? Am I the only one who's had them? Did Dad ever have them? Has Josh? No, I know Josh hasn't. He would have said so. He's never kept a secret in his life.

He remembered what his father told him in the hospital: "There are so many things I need to tell you." Was his dad talking about this or about normal stuff, like how to drive a stick shift and tie a fisherman's knot? He knew there was more to the story and that Alistair was right—that it would probably get a lot worse before it got better—but he wasn't ready to hear it. Right now, he wanted to turn off his brain and not think. Maybe that's why Alistair had given him the oar, to take his mind off things.

They stopped and made camp for the night. Alistair made a fire and went into the woods. Daniel warmed himself while he was gone. Soon, Alistair returned with a small sack and sat by the fire. He emptied the bag and out dropped a handful of nuts and berries. He spread a berry on top of an arrow-shaped leaf, cracked one of the nuts and blew into the end of it until a thick substance oozed out. Alistair held the leaf over the fire for a second (just long enough to get it warm) and handed it to Daniel. "Here, try this," he said.

It was wonderful. It tasted like a peanut butter and jelly cracker. It was warm and sweet and the best thing Daniel had tasted in ages. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's a dessert my father taught me to make. It's called a koncheuh." When Alistair said it, his voice came out in a clicking sound, and Daniel laughed out loud.

"Try it," Alistair said, repeating the name. "Koncheuh." He pointed to his throat. "Let your voice come from here."

"K-k-on-chew," Daniel tried to pronounce it but almost gagged instead.

"Here, round your tongue off like this."

Daniel tried once more. "Koncheau." His pronunciation wasn't close to Alistair's, and this time Alistair laughed.

"What happened to your father?" Daniel remembered Alistair's words.

Alistair gathered his thoughts before speaking. "After he killed Illian and trapped the others on earth, Meruzilak spent the next few hundred years hunting down all the Magicals he could find. When he found them, he killed them. In his mind, they were to blame for his parents' death. They should have used their powers to stop the battle. My parents managed to evade him for many years. Almost two hundred years, in fact." Alistair paused, and Daniel presumed he was wrestling with his memories. "But eventually, one of Meruzilak's servants tracked us down. He killed my mother and father. The irony was, as Meruzilak's mother sheltered him from death, mine did the same for me. Perhaps she'd heard the legend." Alistair poked the fire with his stick. "I guess some events in this life are inevitable."

Daniel spoke up. "Why don't you fight him? I've seen what you can do. You can beat him."

"You definitely have the spirit of your ancestors. Their foresight and judgment, those will take time, but the brashness and courage you have in plenty." Alistair handed Daniel another koncheuh. "A wise man admits when he is weak. My magic is child's play when compared to Meruzilak's. I would never challenge his power. Only a fool would."

"Then how is anybody supposed to take him down? I mean, if no one can beat him, what are you supposed to do, sit around and watch him kill everybody?"

"There is nothing anyone can do, at least by himself. Illiana and the others knew this, which is why they did what they did."

Daniel realized he was trembling. So far, he had all these separate pieces of the puzzle but no thread to tie them together. He was about to hear the rest of the story.

"After hiding the portal," Alistair said, "Meruzilak put a curse over the land, one that has never been broken. When a Magical dies, his spirit is taken prisoner and carried to a chasm in the mountain. The voices you heard back there, they are the souls of departed wizards, forever trapped under Meruzilak's spell. As long as the spell remains unbroken, they will never be free.

"Illiana knew something tragic had happened, but without Illian's power they were helpless to stop it. Cornelius saw someone coming from their family line whose power would equal that of Illian's and enable them to defeat the curse. But the three of them were trapped on earth, where they would soon grow old. They knew it was doubtful they'd be alive when the person came, so they each gave up their power, putting it into the onyx with the hope that one day the right person would find it; and when that day came, when the four powers were united, Meruzilak's curse could be broken.

"Before they relinquished their powers, Illiana made one request: to build a mausoleum where she and her descendants would lie. They built it around where they knew the portal to be. When they finished, they wrapped Illian's body in a shroud and buried him inside. Illiana hid the onyx and the three of them spent the rest of their lives as mortals. When they died, the portal became visible long enough for their souls to pass through.

"You see, Daniel, when Cornelius said the fourth would come, he was speaking of you."

Chapter 28

Meruzilak

Joshua looked around in amazement, stunned by the opulence and wealth on display. _Now, this is what I call rich!_ Whoever lived here did not sleep on an iron grate or eat berry bags for food. Whoever lived here was rich. Filthy rich. Probably even a millionaire.

Joshua observed the polished floor and jeweled-stone ceiling, quick to notice a row of marble busts lining the hall. The faceless sculptures were placed on pedestals, each standing freely in front of a large mural, painted with flawless detail. The mural that caught Joshua's eye was of a tall, long-haired man in a robe like Ralmaghar's. He was flying through the air, riding on a giant cicada-like bird with clear-veined wings and a horned beak. They were flying over a battleground, or at least Joshua assumed it was a battle. Brandished steel and blood on the ground are unmistakable signs of war.

The hall was nearly a football field in length. Velvet-cushioned stools were uniformly placed beside each pedestal and brass candelabras were built into the wall. Nothing was out of place, not a detail overlooked. The owner of this place was meticulous and orderly, and definitely not someone to mess with. The walk grew more solemn, as with each step, Joshua realized the gravity of the situation. He was about to meet the person in charge of bringing him here. Who was he, and what did he look like? Could he do magic, too?

Joshua studied Ralmaghar, walking ahead. If someone placed an ad in the paper that read, "Wanted: big, ugly, half-human, half-monster henchman goon," he'd be hired on the spot. It was hard to imagine meeting anyone more frightening, yet Joshua got the sick feeling he was about to.

Joshua passed another statue. There were now more pedestals behind him than in front. He saw a huge archway supported by four sets of columns. The entrance was closed from view with a green draping, ornamented with gold embroidering. He tried to imagine the person behind the curtain and his imagination ran wild, creating a ten-foot-tall half-locust monster shooting streams of larvae out of its mouth. The larvae wrapped around Joshua's legs like a lasso, binding him. Okay, that's it, he thought. I'm not going to stick around this place so he can turn me into pork sausage.

Joshua turned and was ready to make a run for the door when he saw there was no door. It had disappeared. What! I just came through there. How can it be gone? Joshua wanted to sink into the ground. It seemed every move he made, Ralmaghar was one step ahead of him, making doors appear and disappear, stairways circle through the air, and walls catch on fire. He was really starting to hate this guy.

They approached the entrance to the archway and Joshua stood before the curtain. Ralmaghar stepped to the side, out of the way, and raised his arm. Before Ralmaghar could open his mouth to speak, Joshua knew what he was about to say. Yeah, I know ... Go.

Joshua took a deep breath through his nose and nervously peeled back the curtain.

***

What he saw when he entered was a raised dais, two feet or so off the ground, decorated with a banner cloth similar to the curtain in stitching and design. Sitting on the dais was an empty throne.

First, Joshua was extremely grateful to find the throne empty.

Second, this was the most unusual throne he'd ever seen.

Living in Grisby, he didn't come across too many thrones. It wasn't often (never, in fact) families decorated their homes with them. But Joshua had seen enough in the history books to know this one was unique. Its arms rose in a gliding pattern and tapered at the top, as two gold scepters were grafted into the wood. At the end of each scepter, a pair of eagle's wings was forged. The throne's back was broad at the base, coming to a sharp point in the middle. The wood was red and aged, adorned at the edges with gold trim. A middle compartment was dug out, leaving a hollow cavity underneath the seat, and inside the compartment was a metal dish, empty, and rounded in the center.

These features were unusual enough, but what caught his attention were the legs of the throne. Dragons! Joshua was unable to control his excitement. Four solid gold wyverns served as chair legs, all splendid in their detail. Even from where he was standing, several feet away, Joshua discerned the eagle claws on the tip of their wings and the shovel-shaped hook of their tails.

Joshua looked around to make sure he was alone then took two steps forward. But before he reached the dais, a scenario came to his mind, one that made him reconsider. What if he's making himself invisible and has been sitting there watching me the whole time? Joshua grew self-conscious about how he was standing, how he was holding his hands, whether or not he'd done anything stupid since being there. He crossed his arms and tried his best to keep still, but he was scared and couldn't help fidgeting, especially if the bad guy was using his power of invisibility and watching. I really need to get out of here.

It wasn't until a few seconds later that the room exploded.

Sound-wise, the explosion was deafening, like a Humvee full of M-80s all blowing up at the same time. Sight-wise, it was even more extraordinary. Hues of red, orange, and deep yellow exploded before his eyes, as a cloud of smoke engulfed him. Joshua shielded himself, waiting for it to settle. Once the smoke cleared and his ears stopped ringing, Joshua lifted his eyes to greet the man sitting on the throne, who lowered his to look upon the nine-year-old boy from Grisby, California.

First impressions being what they are, Joshua was confused, to say the least. This was definitely not what he expected. He was glad, of course—it was a lot better than the larvae-spewing monster with yellow eyes and green skin. It was unexpected, that's all. The man sitting in front of him was, well ... good-looking.

He looks like an actor, Joshua thought.

The man wore his long hair tied in a ponytail. His features were delicate and his skin smooth. He had a moustache and goatee, which came to a sharp point at the chin. He reached out his hand and curled his fingers. One by one, the vines fell from Joshua's lips. "Ralmaghar can be rather impetuous," the man said. "It's one of his more invaluable qualities."

Joshua put his hands to his mouth to check for holes. He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out.

"Don't try to speak. It will do you no good." The man spoke in cold tones and looked at Joshua with pointed eyes. Joshua, standing under the weight of the man's gaze, wondered which was worse, the creature he'd invented in his head or the man sitting before him now. He was beginning to think he'd be better off with larvae and lassos.

"My name is Meruzilak. You are a prisoner here. If you do as I say, you will remain a prisoner. If you disobey, you will die. Either way, it makes no difference to me. I will get what I want, regardless." He signaled with his hand and Ralmaghar entered. "Take him away," he ordered. "Then prepare for the journey."

Joshua wasn't scared anymore. He wasn't anything. There was no more feeling to be felt. To recap his day thus far—imprisoned, released, muted, led away, faces in the fire, almost died, didn't die, disappearing doorway, exploding throne room, and now this, the ruler of the castle threatening to kill him. Oh, don't forget the lizard creature and henchman goon. Joshua turned and followed Ralmaghar through the curtain. He hadn't the strength to do otherwise.
Chapter 29

Morning Visitors

The dream began pleasantly enough. Daniel was camping. He wasn't sure of the location. It might have been Yosemite, Big Basin, or the woods behind his house. All the important people were there, though. His mom, Joshua, Stevie—even Stevie's parents had made the trip.

Daniel smelled smoke, so he grabbed his flashlight and scurried from his tent. He saw a light in the distance among the trees. Fire, he realized. The woods were burning. He sprinted from tent to tent, waking everyone, telling them to get their stuff and to hurry. Each person grabbed his (or her) essential belongings and followed Daniel from the campsite.

The other campers realized what was happening, and it became a chaotic scramble of people running for safety, hoping to make it to their cars and drive away. When they reached the parking lot, Daniel turned around. Everyone was there. Hold on—not everyone. Where was Joshua? He must have fallen behind.

Daniel raced back to the campsite. He looked everywhere—the tents, the picnic area, the lake—but couldn't find his brother. "Joshua!" he screamed, but his voice was trampled beneath the sounds of crisping leaves. That's when he saw him.

Joshua was standing at the edge of the woodland, still wearing his pajamas and a groggy, sleepy-eyed expression on his face, oblivious to the flames licking the ground behind him. He reached up to scratch his head, and from Daniel's viewpoint it looked like flames were shooting from his arm. Again, Daniel shouted to his brother, but Joshua didn't hear. Daniel put his arms up to block the heat and made a run for his brother. It was his job to save him.

A slight breeze blew across his face, as smells penetrated his senses. Daniel lay still a moment longer, wanting to let the dream wear off. Even now, he still felt the heat coming from the fire. Daniel opened his eyes, and his heart nearly stopped.

He was staring into the eyes of a real-life dragon.

"A-A-Alistair," he sputtered, shuffling away from his sleeping bag. He lost his balance and fell back upon the ground. "Uh, uh ... Alistair."

Though it wasn't as big as he might have expected (movies tend to exaggerate things like dragons), it was the biggest and most frightening creature imaginable. Its tail had a jagged hook on the end and its claws looked sharp enough to rip a tree from the ground. Daniel felt its breath on his skin and wondered how long before a gush of fire would follow. "Alistair!" he said.

"Did you call for me?" Alistair put his hand on Daniel's shoulder to steady him. He seemed (as always) to appear out of nowhere.

It took a moment for Daniel to find his voice. "Dragon, big dragon," he sputtered.

"I presume you have questions about the wyvern."

"Get rid of it, please."

Alistair motioned to the wyvern. The wyvern, in turn, lifted its tail high, its wings spread wide enough to block the morning sun. It took several steps and, as gracefully as an eagle, lifted itself onto an invisible cushion of air and flew into the distance.

"Come along," said Alistair. "Breakfast is getting cold."

Alistair returned to the campfire, leaving Daniel speechless. His knees were still wobbling and he was sure he hadn't taken a breath in about five minutes. If he'd been able to formulate speech at that moment, he would have scoffed at Alistair's words. Who could think of eating breakfast at a time like this? Between the dragon and Alistair's habit of sneaking up on him, it was a miracle he hadn't suffered a heart attack. As his nerves settled, Daniel joined Alistair by the fire.

Alistair handed him a plate of eggs. Daniel kept one eye on his food and one eye on the lookout. Alistair noted his concern. "The wyverns are the guardians of the land."

"Are they friendly or mean?"

"You will find they are neither. In regard to humans, they are indifferent. Their purpose is to protect the land, and their loyalty rests there. They have no allegiance to man or Magical."

In the distance, the wyvern spread its wings and flew deeper into the woods. Daniel watched its descent, awed by its gracefulness.

"They are the oldest living creatures," Alistair said. "As long as history has been recorded, the wyverns have always been."

They finished eating and walked into the valley, where Daniel was shocked to see at least a dozen more wyverns. While they seemed to know Alistair and not mind his being there, if they noticed Daniel it hardly showed. Walking among them, Daniel's jaw stayed dropped the entire time. They were something out of a storybook, but they were standing two feet in front of him, as real as could be. He didn't see them breathing fire (was glad, actually) but everything else was there—the scaly skin, the razor sharp teeth, and an enormous tail that could flatten an alligator. The one difference, he saw, was they didn't have arms.

Alistair slowed for a few minutes, perhaps to give Daniel the opportunity to take it all in. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Daniel nodded. He was still blown away.

***

They left the valley and made their way up a steep hill. Stones littered the path and the ground was rough under their feet. Daniel fastened his pack to his waist to keep it from jostling. They didn't speak much along the way and Daniel was glad for it. Why talk for the sake of talking? For Daniel, the silence allowed him the chance to sort things out in his head.

He'd gone to bed the night before protesting what he heard. It was crazy; stupid, even—curses, spells, souls being kept prisoner. I don't believe it. It's as simple as that. But then he heard the whisper in his head, "There are so many things I need to tell you," and knew it wasn't that easy.

It was not only possible, it was true, and that's what made him angry. But it was a good angry, an angry that gets things done—an angry even his mom would understand, and definitely one his dad appreciated, with his love for boxing and being tough. Daniel felt tough, and it felt good. It wasn't a school bully tough. It was a real kind of tough, one that fights for those getting picked on and doesn't care about the opinions of others, as long as it's doing what is right.

Daniel remembered something Alistair told him earlier. "Life never happens like you want it to. The sooner you figure that out, the sooner you can get back to what you need to be doing."

Alistair's right. There are a lot of things we don't want, but we get them, anyway. It's a matter of what you do with them. That's what makes a man. Daniel pumped his fist. He knew exactly where he'd heard that before.

Alistair said they were going to the summit of the mountain. Daniel didn't know what he meant at the time, but he did now. It was impossible to miss, looming in the distance. The mountain peak disappeared into thick thunderclouds, while lightning flashed around it. Daniel knew the lush valley would soon be replaced by wet, frigid rock. They were heading straight into the storm.

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he climbed with laser-like intensity. Alistair walked at a steady pace, which Daniel appreciated. Actually, he was beginning to appreciate Alistair for who he was. The more time they spent together, the more he liked him. They hadn't known each other long, but in the short time they had, Alistair had been a good friend. No, he'd been a great friend. One of the best.

Daniel heard something overhead and nearly jumped out of his shoes. He saw a strange birdlike creature in the distance. Alistair motioned him behind a large rock. "Don't worry," he whispered. "It's not looking for us. Keep still, though."

Daniel watched it draw closer. It looked like a gigantic insect, perhaps some kind of fly. He couldn't tell, but whatever it was, it was disgusting-looking and he couldn't imagine how something grew to be so big—or so ugly.

"What the heck is that thing?" he asked.

"It's called an Oren. It is a servant of Meruzilak." Alistair crouched lower and whispered for Daniel to do the same. "The Oren take the departed souls and deliver them to the chasm of the summit, where they are held prisoner. Meruzilak has just killed someone, which means he is angry."

Daniel watched the Oren slowly disappear from sight and asked, "Are you sure it didn't see us?"

Alistair nodded then stood and collected his things. "We must get moving. There is no time to waste."

As they pushed ahead, Daniel was quick to notice Alistair walked with a little more hurry to his step, and that the air had suddenly cooled. It was hard for him to believe the weather and landscape could change this much in such a short period of time. Sure, it had been several hours, but to go from warm sunshine and green grass to freezing wind and slippery rock so quickly was not normal. Of course, what was normal? He wasn't sure he knew anymore. Would something he did in Grisby be considered normal here, or would Alistair think it was weird? What if he put a piece of gum in his mouth and blew a bubble? Would Alistair poke fun at him? Maybe normal depends on where you live, Daniel thought.

The closer they got, the faster time seemed to pass, and the more the knot in his stomach tightened. Daniel tried to occupy his mind in whatever way possible. He tried making up songs. He thought about the last movie he'd seen. He even caught himself working math problems in his head; but still, he couldn't help wondering what was going to happen when they reached the mountain.

He saw it more clearly now, its tall peak surrounded by gloom, the way its jagged ledges stuck out like bayonets. Its presence was the most awe-inspiring in the land, but the most chilling as well, dissuading any kind of cheer while inviting every form of trouble. And they would be there within a few short hours.

Be strong, Daniel reminded himself. Just keep walking. Don't stop.

From out of nowhere, a vicious crack of lightning struck, threatening to split the sky to pieces. "He wants us to know he's here," Alistair said. "He's trying to scare us."

"Yeah, well, it worked."

Alistair came to a stop. Cupping his hands behind his ears, he scanned the area, watching and listening for anything—the slightest sound or rustling in the brush.

"Alistair, what is it?"

"Shhh," he whispered, barely breathing. "Perhaps nothing."

Alistair reached into his pocket and took out a small glass vial. "Don't move," he said. He removed the stopper and turned the vial upside down, spreading fine dust over Daniel, then in a wide circle around him.

"Alistair, what are you doing?"

Alistair didn't answer the question. "Try to act natural." Seconds passed. Those seconds turned to more seconds. Still, more seconds. "Take a step behind you," he said. Daniel did so.

As he watched, Daniel saw a shape materialize. The shape grew and took form until Daniel recognized what he saw—himself. It was an exact replica down to the tiniest detail, from the worn creases on the tips of his sneakers, to the faded spots on the knees of his jeans, to the soup stain on his t-shirt, to the backpack he wore and, of course, to the frightened expression on his face.

"Is that me?" he said. "No way. It looks like I've got a case of the shakes. Alistair, what is that?"

"It's a diversion. The nearer we come to the mountain, the more spies Meruzilak will send. This will buy us a few minutes, but he won't be fooled long. The more distance we cover, the safer we will be."

Daniel watched himself on replay. "It's awesome. Like a perfect hologram."

"A hologram? I'm not familiar with that term."

"Hologram, you know? Like in the science fiction movies."

"This is a diversion. Nothing more." Alistair ducked behind the image and signaled for Daniel to follow. "Meruzilak controls the mountain. As we get closer, my power becomes weaker. We will make it, though. I promise to bring you safely to the chasm."

Chapter 30

Traveling Companions

Joshua held his nose and made a face. _What, did a family of skunks die inside this thing?_

It was freezing outside and this was the best they'd given him—a tattered coat that stank to high heaven? Joshua wrinkled his nose and put his arms through the sleeves. He didn't have a choice; he could see his breath it was so cold.

This was obviously the journey Meruzilak was talking about, but where were they going? Joshua wasn't cool on the idea of a sleigh ride through the mountains with Ralmaghar and Meruzilak, Jerks Number One and Two, and prayed for the light snowfall to turn into a blizzard and wipe out their trip. And if God couldn't do that, he prayed Staggor would at least slow down a little (or a lot) on packing the sleigh.

Joshua looked around at his surroundings—the two-hundred-foot castle surrounded by snowcapped mountains and the teardrop-shaped lake—but the scenery was lost on him, as his chattering teeth and trembling nerves kept him from admiring it. Joshua felt his watch from the outside of his coat. He thought back to the cave and how excited he'd been to see the tiny beam of light cutting into the darkness. "It seems so long ago," he whispered.

Staggor worked with methodical ease, as the horses stood quiet and still. The snowfall gave the land a silent calmness. There was no sign of Meruzilak, and Joshua entertained the hope that he wasn't coming, that it would be him and Staggor on the journey. Joshua's spirits lifted. He didn't like Staggor any more than the next guy but was pretty sure he could handle a sleigh ride with him. Or perhaps, he considered, Staggor realized the sleigh moved faster without the others and planned to ditch them to cut the trip in half.

"Come on," Joshua begged. "Hurry up, before they get here. Let's go." Joshua tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. "Enough dawdling, all right?" He pulled up his coat sleeve and checked his watch. They were losing precious time because of Staggor's lackadaisical attitude. "Here, I'll help you if you want. Just put the bags in the sleigh, already. Come on."

No such luck, however. The castle door rumbled and Meruzilak, followed several paces behind by Ralmaghar, stepped out of the open doorway.

The first thing he noticed was that Meruzilak had changed. He wasn't as good-looking as Joshua remembered. He also didn't appear very happy.

Meruzilak grabbed Joshua by the scruff of the neck and threw him into the sleigh. "Let's go," he commanded. Ralmaghar took a seat at the reins.

"Am I not driving?" Staggor asked.

Meruzilak reached into his cloak and slowly brought his arm out. The look of dread on Staggor's face, as he recognized what Meruzilak was holding, told a story a million words could not. Dread was replaced by deep sadness. Meruzilak threw the empty bag of berries on the ground and turned to face Joshua.

"There is a price for disobedience," he said and raised his arm. An orb of light shot from his hand and struck Staggor in the chest.

Staggor didn't bother to put up a fight. Instead, he looked at Joshua. It was the first time Staggor had shown any emotion, and Joshua realized it was a look of friendship. Staggor had been helping him. Joshua responded with an expression of kindness in return, and Staggor smiled. He kept his eyes fixed on Joshua until the end, which came quickly. The orb of light spread through his body and then, in a flash, Staggor was gone.

Meruzilak pointed his eyes at Joshua. "Should you try to escape, the same fate will await you." He turned and gave orders to Ralmaghar. Ralmaghar cracked the reins and the sled took off with a violent jerk. Joshua, still hurting from the fall, as well as saddened by what happened, buried his head forward, not wanting to see anything else. This place was anything but peaceful, anything but calm. This place was evil.

The sled raced forward. Joshua thought he heard something in the air behind him but didn't look. Meruzilak sat atop the sleigh, possessed, like a mad sea captain on a vengeance quest. They were soon out of sight of the castle, the sole reminder of their journey being the tracks they left behind and the empty sackcloth, now buried under the fallen snow.

***

Hours passed; they seemed like torture. The good news was that his voice had returned, though he dared not speak. The horses drew the sleigh along at a steady pace, as they approached the edge of a clearing.

It was a jumble of emotions for Joshua to experience. He was basically scared to death. He didn't know where he was or where they were going. The one thing he did know was this Meruzilak guy didn't like him much. In fact, he was pretty sure he hated him. But Joshua also marveled at the passing landscape. If someone were to take a snow globe of a wintry paradise, shake it up and set it on a countertop, this is what it would look like.

They were traveling through a forest with huge snowcapped pines in every direction. Large cones sat scattered on the trail, and Joshua was tempted to reach down and grab one. Joshua felt his face getting windburned and considered what his mom would say if she knew he'd been out all day without sunscreen.

His thoughts were interrupted. On the side of the trail was a fat little furry creature that wobbled as it walked. It had a nub for a tail and curly whiskers, and Joshua, as the sleigh drew close, reached out to pet it. The creature, without warning, bared its teeth with a loud hiss and lunged at Joshua with open claws. Joshua screamed and pulled his arm back, barely avoiding the attack. The animal retracted its claws, hissing loudly.

"A couple more seconds and you might have lost a hand." Meruzilak spoke without a hint of concern. "Pity."

"Wiffens do not like to be touched," he added. "If you're fortunate enough to be alive the next time we see one, you might remember that. I doubt you'll be so lucky again." Meruzilak went back to what he was doing before, which as far as Joshua observed was pretty much nothing, unless staring off into space and looking like an idiot counted as something.

Until now, Joshua had avoided eye contact with Meruzilak at all costs. But his curiosity was getting the best of him, so he gambled and stole a couple of glances.

Yuck! His parents must have spent a fortune on Acne-Cleanse when he was a kid. Under the sunlight's glare, Meruzilak's skin was definitely not as smooth as Joshua first thought. In fact, it was quite pockmarked. Maybe he scratched off chicken pox when he was a boy. How did I not notice that before?

Joshua covered his face with his hands, pretending to be asleep, and peeked through his fingers. He was taking a huge risk by staring, but he hadn't seen Meruzilak blink yet and was dying to know if he actually did or not. He watched him for at least two minutes but never saw his eyelids move. How are his eyes not burning like crazy? I can't even go five seconds.

Meruzilak spoke, startling Joshua. "If you continue to press your luck, you'll be seeing the world through fish eyes from this point forward."

Fish eyes? Nobody's giving me fish eyes. And I'm tired of this guy threatening me. Joshua spoke up. "What do you want with me?"

Meruzilak greeted Joshua with a look of contempt. "How old are you?"

"Nine. Not that's it's any of your business. How old are you?"

"I am nine hundred and thirty-seven years old, which is nine hundred and twenty-eight more than you. So until you are at least twelve and have grown an inch or two, you are not allowed to ask any more questions."

"Smarta ..." Joshua started to say but caught himself. He hated when people made fun of him for being short but also remembered what happened to Staggor, so he bit his tongue. "Well, at least I don't have B.O.," he whispered under his breath. Meruzilak ignored him and looked ahead.

The sleigh pressed forward while the sun began to set. Out of the forest now, they descended on an open plain. The weather had grown decidedly worse and the snow turned to a cold drizzle. Joshua wrapped himself tightly in his coat, but the coat was wet and provided little comfort.

"You could at least give me a hat," he grumbled. "If you're so magic and powerful, why don't you put a roof over this thing?" Because he didn't need to, Joshua noticed. The rain wasn't touching Meruzilak. Somehow, the drops disappeared before they reached him.

Joshua felt a surge of anger. He resented Meruzilak for being mean enough to let him freeze to death while he stayed dry as a cactus. It was uncalled for to be that coldhearted. He turned his eyes to Ralmaghar, driving the sleigh, and considered asking him for help. Maybe he'd be decent enough to give Joshua an extra blanket. But no sooner did he consider the idea than he dismissed it. Ralmaghar had been cruel from the get-go; there was no way he was going to help. Besides, he's a puppet. Staggor was the one who'd been decent to Joshua, and Joshua hadn't realized it until it was too late.

Though he knew he wasn't responsible for Staggor's death—after all, he didn't ask for the berries—Joshua still felt miserable. Not only was Staggor dead, he'd died in the worst possible way, by having an orb of light explode inside him. That must be the worst way for a person to get killed. Actually, the more Joshua thought about it, the more certain he became: Meruzilak had probably invented a ton of terrible ways to die, and he'd probably used them all. What if he's got a special fireball with my name on it?

After all, Meruzilak had already threatened Joshua twice. What if it was "three strikes and you're out?" If so, he might as well go ahead and get it over with. Joshua couldn't remember why he got the first strike, and all he'd done for the second was try to pet a wiffen. What would the third strike be for, having to blow his nose?

Joshua, soaked and shivering, blew into his hands to keep them from freezing, while in the distance he heard a faint clap of thunder. He was cold, tired, and hungry. On top of that, he'd been forced to smell Meruzilak the whole way. Has he never heard of a bath? All in all, it had been the worst day of Joshua's life.

No, take that back. Second to worst, he meant to say. This day may have been bad, but it didn't come close to being the worst. He could live a hundred years, and no day—no matter how terrible—would take that one's place. That day was worse than anything Meruzilak could dish up, yet Joshua survived it. They all survived it—he, his mother, and Daniel.

Joshua stood in the sleigh. He didn't care what Meruzilak did to him, whether it was turning him into a charcoal biscuit or whatever else. He was going to get some answers one way or another. "Where are we going?" he said.

The words rang out over the landscape. Even Ralmaghar was surprised and turned to look. Meruzilak glowered at Joshua, so mad he could have shot fire out of his eyes. He was so mad even his ears shook.

Seconds passed without Meruzilak doing anything, as if the little devil on his shoulder was screaming, "Fry him! Fry him!" and he was deciding the best way to do it. Still, Meruzilak hesitated. Something was holding him back, perhaps the little angel on the other shoulder, though Joshua doubted he had one of those. Whatever the case, his rage quieted ever so slightly. It didn't disappear—he was still mad enough to squeeze hornets—but it simmered for the moment.

"You brazen child." He snapped his fingers and the sled shot forward with a scream. Joshua crashed to the floor. "That's where we're going," he said, pointing to the mountain in the distance, the tallest point on the horizon. "That's where I will find your brother."
Chapter 31

Handstands

What little sun to be seen was seen through small breaks in the storm clouds moving quickly across the sky. The sky had grown so overcast the mountain itself was hardly

visible, though Alistair and Daniel had stopped to camp a few hundred yards away.

Daniel couldn't guess how far they'd come—they'd walked all day and into the night. His mind was as tired as his body and it was a struggle for him to recount the events of the day. Breakfast with the dragons seemed so long ago he was no longer sure it happened. He sat on a stump and shut his eyes. Just a few minutes. Maybe long enough for a power nap. He'd almost nodded off when he heard Alistair whistling and took a peek to see what was going on.

Alistair was making shadow puppets in the sky. Daniel shook his head. He may be a good friend and a pretty cool guy, but he is still weird. That much will never change. Daniel watched him guide a hawk in between the thunderclouds. "Hey, don't you believe in sleep?"

Alistair turned to him and flapped his arms. The hawk swooped down on Daniel, knocking him from his stump. "Real funny," Daniel said, picking himself off the ground. "You caught me at a bad moment, that's all. What are you doing, anyway?"

"Come here. I'll show you."

Daniel grabbed his pack and joined him, though he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking at. Alistair was watching a cloud formation coming in from the east, so Daniel did the same. Several minutes passed without anything happening and Daniel grew restless. He turned his eyes to the mountain ahead. Completely uninviting with its frost-covered patches and steep terrain, someone may as well have put up a giant sign that read, "NO TRESPASSING! KEEP OUT!" Daniel let out a heavy sigh. The worst part was they were hiking to the very top. The climb itself would probably zap every ounce of his strength.

"Alistair, do you really think I can do this?"

"Yes, I do. I wouldn't have brought you this far if I didn't."

"I'm scared, Alistair."

"I know you are. But right now, maybe that's a good place to be."

"What's going to happen when we get there?"

For the first time, Daniel saw true concern in his friend's eyes. "I don't know," he answered. "Now get ready."

"Get ready for what?" Daniel said then saw the lead cloud break formation and turn in their direction. "Hold on. Did I see what I think I saw?"

"Indeed. Pretty cool, huh?"

Daniel didn't pick up on Alistair's newfound vocabulary. The cloud was gaining speed and coming straight for them. "Uh, Alistair. Don't you think we ought to run?"

Alistair stood perfectly still.

"Alistair, do something."

"We'll be fine."

"Alistair, we have to run. It's coming straight for us."

"Trust me. Shut your eyes if you need to."

"Are you crazy?" Daniel shouted. "I'm not going to close my eyes and let a runaway thundercloud demolish me." He braced himself. For what, he had no idea, but he braced himself, regardless. He saw lightning flash inside the cloud. It was nearly on top of them. Oh, to heck with it. Daniel shut his eyes.

***

Somehow, everything outside kept raging while everything on the inside remained calm. _Hold on a second. Is this what I think it is?_ He felt under his butt. What was cloud even made of? He tried to remember from science class. _It's like vapor or something, right?_ Daniel stood and tried to find his balance. It was like walking on one of those jumper things the kids play in, only fluffier.

Alistair noted his surprise. "Go ahead."

"I'm not going to fall through, am I?"

Alistair shook his head.

"Are you sure I won't slide right out?"

"Quite sure."

"All right, here goes." Daniel got a head start and flipped over in a somersault. He landed softly on his back and jumped up with a huge smile on his face. "Who needs a trampoline when you've got this? Eat your heart out, Stevie!"

Daniel vaulted into a handstand, his fingers melting into the cottony floor. "Hey, Alistair. Time me, okay?" He locked his elbows in place and steadied himself upside down. What was his former record for a handstand? Two minutes, maybe three? "Hey, Alistair, how long has it been?"

Alistair didn't appear to be counting. "Perhaps twenty seconds?" he suggested.

"Twenty seconds? Give me a break. It's been at least a minute, probably more." Daniel felt the blood rush to his head. It was a great feeling, made better by the fact he was suspended high above the ground, floating inside a cloud. The weirdest part was it was cold and rainy on the outside but perfectly dry inside. "Hey, Alistair, was this made by the Ancients, too?"

"No," Alistair said. "This wasn't made by the Ancients. This is an Ancient."

Daniel's arms gave way and he toppled to the floor. "What did you say? I must be having vertigo or something because I could have sworn you said ..."

Alistair nodded in the direction of the far wall. The cloud was swirling around itself, like a milky hurricane, and Daniel saw an outline forming. He watched keenly as the details came into focus. Sure enough—the defined cheekbones, high-arching eyebrows—Daniel was looking upon the face of an Ancient. In the flesh ... well, sort of. The face disappeared.

Daniel kept watching in case it decided to reappear. Alistair, meanwhile, moved to the corner where their packs were sitting. Daniel noticed Alistair's calm demeanor then realized how silly he must look himself, still dizzy from the gymnastics, with a goofy grin plastered to his face. "I don't see how you stay so calm while stuff like this is happening. Maybe it's normal to you, but where I come from, it's crazy."

Alistair untied the leather string at the top of his bag. "I'm sure there are occurrences in your world that you consider normal but would appear extraordinary to me."

"Yeah, well, I can't think of one."

"Take a seat," said Alistair. He brought out some sliced meat from his bag and began to eat. Daniel sat beside him and hungrily tore into a crust of bread.

They sat quietly, polishing off the meal. Alistair had a thermos full of warm milk, a little sweeter than the milk back home, and Daniel was more than happy to gulp the whole bottleful without ever looking up. They ate a round of cheese and some roasted hickory nuts, and while it might not have been dinner at an expensive steakhouse, it got the job done and Daniel was left satisfied. If this was going to be the last meal he and Alistair shared together, he couldn't have asked for a better one. Simple, yet filling, all the while floating several hundred feet up in the air.

The cloud kept climbing higher and higher. Little did Daniel know when he woke the next morning, he would find himself a mile above the mountain's tallest peak. The air would be treacherously thin, though inside his newfound shelter, he would breathe comfortably, though never comfortably enough to forget the danger ahead.

That was never far from his mind.
Chapter 32

Joshua's Wait

It was not the answer he expected, far from it. With those few words, "I will find your brother," Meruzilak had silenced Joshua quicker than vines or charcoal ever could.

From excitement to disbelief, disbelief to panic, Joshua barreled through every emotion possible. Daniel was here, too? It sounded too good to be true. Daniel was close by and Meruzilak knew where to find him. It meant Joshua didn't have to be alone anymore. He'd reunite with his brother and, together, they'd get out of this mess.

Joshua huddled under his blanket. He'd swiped it from the sleigh after they stopped to camp for the night and was glad he risked it. The blanket was the only thing keeping him from freezing. Joshua burrowed inside a half-rotted log he found, and from there kept a watchful eye on Ralmaghar and Meruzilak, not wanting any more surprises.

The more he thought about what Meruzilak said, the more worried he became. Having spent the entire day with Meruzilak, Joshua had grown used to his usual demeanor, which was pretty much foul-tempered and angry all the time (with the possible exception of when he teased Joshua for being short). But there was something different about that moment—That's where I will find your brother. Meruzilak said it with such disdain, as if he knew something secret about Daniel and wanted to punish Joshua by not telling him.

But what does he want with Daniel? Joshua kept coming back to that question. It made no sense. Daniel didn't even know Meruzilak. Joshua asked the question again then gave way to the silence that followed.

Joshua had heard the expression, "The eyes are the window to the soul." He wasn't sure of its meaning, but he guessed it implied that if you want to find out about a person, start there. So that's what he did. He replayed the moment in his head, but this time, instead of focusing on Meruzilak's voice, Joshua pictured his eyes and what they said.

The look he'd seen in Meruzilak's eyes went deeper than being hacked off or angry, or wishing Joshua would be mauled by a wiffen the next time around. In Meruzilak's eyes, Joshua saw pure hate. Hate that was possessed, with no concern for right or wrong, that would do whatever was necessary, no matter how evil, to get what it wanted. And what scared Joshua the most was that the hate wasn't directed toward him, as he assumed, but toward Daniel. Joshua saw it clearly now. Everything Meruzilak was doing was for one reason: he was trying to find Daniel so he could kill him.

Joshua cowered inside his log. Until a few days ago, this would have all sounded too fantastical to believe. The most excitement that ever happened in Grisby was an occasional parade float catching on fire or kids smashing pumpkins on neighborhood porches. Stuff like this didn't happen in real life, or at least it wasn't supposed to. He lay silent, too stunned to move. Part of him wanted to hunker down and go to sleep. At least then he wouldn't have to think about the real world.

The real world? Joshua scoffed, suddenly irritated. The real world is back home, where I have school tomorrow and it's grilled cheese and tomato soup day. That's the real world, not this. Joshua tried switching on his wrist light; it was dark and he thought he saw something crouched against a nearby tree. The light, however, was burned out. "So much for that," he whispered.

And so much for being angry. This was real, whether he liked it or not. If he shut his eyes and went to sleep, he might enjoy a couple hours of forgetting, but he'd still wake up under the same sky, faced with the same predicament. Meruzilak would still be looking for Daniel and, unless Joshua stopped him, he'd eventually find him. Joshua must get to Daniel first, and that meant he needed to escape.

Escape. He had no food, no map, no idea where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get to the top of the mountain. Joshua clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. The first time he tried to escape, Ralmaghar stitched his mouth shut. If he couldn't escape then, how did he expect to do it now?

The answer was simple, really. He couldn't. But it didn't matter. Something bigger was at stake and it made no difference whether or not he could do it. The only thing that mattered was that he had to do it. He had to get away from these creeps and beat them to the top, which meant he needed to 1) wait for these losers to go to sleep, 2) sneak away without them hearing, 3) find his way through a dark and spooky forest, and 4) climb to the top of the mountain.

Then, after all of that, he had to find Daniel and they had to make it home. "Great," he mumbled. "Maybe I should add 'wrestling a grizzly bear' to the list to make it more challenging."

Settling in, Joshua made a mental checklist. First things first, he must wait for the Goon Boys to go to sleep, which didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. How long could the two of them stand there doing nothing? They never spoke, never moved, and neither did anything remotely magical. If this is what it's like being a wizard, then no thanks. How boring can you get? Joshua hid his face under the blanket.

The night grew longer and the air colder. Joshua rubbed his arms and rocked his legs back and forth to keep the circulation flowing. It was a weird feeling for him, waiting to escape. By making a run for it, Joshua was risking his life, and he knew there were a lot of things that could go wrong. He might get lost and freeze to death or be attacked by a pack of mountain lions. What if he reached the top and Daniel wasn't there? If only he had a crystal ball. At least then he could see what was coming ahead of time and do things differently.

A sudden movement surprised him and Joshua turned to look. It was Ralmaghar. He was finally turning in for the night. Joshua watched him walk slowly to his tent and disappear inside. "It's about time." Joshua blew into his hands to keep them warm. "One jerk down, one to go."

It wouldn't be long now, he was sure of it. He grew restless inside his log. Meruzilak, however, didn't share Joshua's hurry. "Oh, come on," Joshua whispered. "Go to bed already. What are you waiting for? Maybe if I hypnotize him, he'll go to sleep."

Joshua took off his watch and swung it gently, as though it were a gold pocket watch. "You're getting sleepy, very sleepy," he said in his most droning voice. "You will now run around in your underwear clucking like a chicken in the snow." Joshua laughed at the image. Wow. He realized it was the first time he'd laughed in days. It felt good and helped the waiting go easier. "You will now bring me a chicken salad sandwich and root beer."

If he could hypnotize Meruzilak, it would solve everything. But he couldn't, so Joshua put his watch away. He didn't feel like laughing anymore. His brother was in huge trouble and he didn't need to be joking at a time like this. Joshua lay silent under his blanket, grimly waiting for the moment when Meruzilak turned in for the night.

Joshua snapped to attention. Meruzilak reached into his cloak and brought out something. Joshua scooted forward to get a better look. The best he could tell, they were some sort of crystal-looking objects. One by one, Meruzilak dropped them in the air. However, instead of falling, they levitated above his hand, which he moved in a trancelike manner, waving his fingers like wind chimes. Seconds later, a beam of light shot from each of the crystals and lit the nearby area, bathing Meruzilak in a harsh glow.

Meruzilak waved his arms like a crazed symphony conductor and shouted strange words Joshua didn't understand (he was pretty sure they weren't nice words; Meruzilak had that mad look on his face). Meruzilak closed his hand over the crystals, placed them in his pocket, then turned and walked to his tent, not once looking at Joshua. He opened the flap and stepped inside.

Joshua gently rocked his legs back and forth to make sure they still worked. He said a quick prayer, crawled out of the log, and slipped away into the forest.
Chapter 33

Joshua's Escape

"Oh, man, this stinks!" Joshua spit snow from his mouth. As if he wasn't cold enough, he sure didn't need the trees dumping snow on his head. "Really, really stinks."

Joshua knew it was a delicate balance, escaping for one's life. He should be careful but quick; he mustn't crack any branches under his feet but couldn't waste time looking down at every footfall. With the silhouette of the mountain as a guide, Joshua walked swiftly through the forest, hoping to put as much distance as possible between him and the two wizards.

There wasn't much of a trail, just a bunch of thickets, but he trusted it was the right way and kept going. The moon shone through cracks in the tree line, throwing its light upon the branches and giving them a spook-like demeanor. Though he knew they weren't real, Joshua was still creeped out. He didn't believe the tarantula in the corridor was real, yet he still felt its disgusting legs crawling up his hand. Joshua kept his arms close to his side.

The blackened snow had turned to slush, and each step he took sounded like biting into a snow cone from the ballpark. He felt water seeping into his shoes and soaking his socks, which felt about five times heavier than normal. Deeper into the forest now, Joshua picked up his pace to a full run. "Just be careful," he reminded himself. "And don't trip on anything."

Joshua had never been the quickest of runners. Throughout his life, it seemed whenever he ran as fast as possible, his feet and brain quit playing for the same team, and if he didn't constantly watch where he was stepping, he'd trip and fall. Well, he couldn't let it happen this time, as every second counted. Joshua came upon a small ditch. "Don't trip," he whispered. "Don't trip ... don't trip ..."

Safely over the ditch, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He saw lightning flash in the distance, followed by a thunderclap. Joshua was glad he brought the blanket, as he suspected it would get a lot wetter. As he ran, he picked up speed, feeling he was gaining strength rather than losing it. Something was driving him, pushing him farther and faster, and he realized it was the same something that happened in Grisby. He couldn't explain it, but whatever it was, it gave him assurance he was heading in the right direction.

Now that he was a couple of miles out of sight from the tents, Joshua's adrenaline slowed, allowing him to come to terms with his surroundings. He was in a forest and, as everyone knows, forests are full of creatures—all kinds of creatures, good ones and bad ones. Joshua remembered the encounter on the sleigh, nearly having his hand chewed off, and grew worried. "What if there are you-know-whats out here?"

You-know-whats was his new name for them. He had no idea how something with such a cute-sounding name like wiffen could be so vicious, but all the same, he wasn't going to call them that anymore. Joshua kept a darting eye in each direction, fearful of vengeful you-know-whats around the corner.

As Joshua traveled through the forest, he returned to the question of _it:_ the _it_ giving him peace of mind about his direction. Whatever it was, it had happened before—a few times, actually—and each time, it left Joshua feeling confused and slightly guilty.

Joshua was not one to over-think matters. Whenever strange things happened, he responded with that's weird, or that's cool, and went about his business. But there had been a few instances in his life that left him scratching his head. The first time was when Daniel got his new BMX bike. He'd wanted one for ages and, when he finally got it, he spent every afternoon for weeks practicing on the local track. Then he signed up for his first race.

The night before, Daniel and Joel worked on the bike together, checking the brakes, tightening the pads, making sure the tires were at perfect gauge. When they were done, they locked it up and Daniel got ready for bed.

The next morning, they found the bike missing. Someone had broken into the garage and stolen it. Daniel was crushed. He'd practiced for weeks and was now going to miss the race. On top of that, it might be an eternity before he got another bike—at least, that's what Daniel claimed.

What Joshua never told them was that he was the one who stole it.

After Daniel climbed into bed that night, Joshua pretended to be asleep, but he was far from it. He couldn't explain what he was feeling. It was a mash-up of emotions: nervousness, concern, confusion. His skin turned clammy and he fought the urge to throw off his pajamas, which were sticking to his skin. Joshua didn't know what was happening, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn't let Daniel compete in the race. So he snuck out in the middle of the night, took the bike, and threw it off a cliff.

He felt terrible the next day. Seeing Daniel so heartbroken made him feel guilty, and he went back and forth the whole day about whether or not to confess what he'd done. In the end, he kept silent about it. To this day, his secret was safe.

A few days later, they ran into Mr. Woodford at the grocery store, where he told them about the accident. "Crying shame about the Loggins boy," he said. "Out there on that race track by Ridgecrest, them souped up bikes the boys are riding these days. Came down off a jump too hard and lost control." Mr. Woodford reached for a tin of biscuits and placed it in his cart. "That boy will probably never be the same."

The second time: Joshua woke with a terrifying concern that his father shouldn't go to work that day. He left his bed early and raced downstairs, where he found his dad sitting at the den table, drinking coffee and finishing a bowl of cereal.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," Joshua said. "Just spend the day with us. Call your boss and tell him you're sick, then we'll go to the beach and fly kites."

"I'll tell you what," said Joel. "I don't have much work today. I'll finish early, your brother and I will fire off the new rocket, then all of us will go to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?" Joel took Joshua into his arms and held him tightly. "I'll see you when I get home. I love you, Joshua."

As he sat by the window, watching his dad climb into the truck, Joshua knew something was wrong—really wrong. But his dad promised him everything was fine, so he believed him. After Joel drove out of sight, Joshua slowly wrote his name on the fogged windowpane and walked away from the den.

The same thing that happened with the BMX race happened then, and he ignored it. Joshua made a promise that he would never, ever again ignore that feeling, no matter how much trouble he got into or how guilty he felt afterward; which is why, though he knew Daniel was going to be furious at him, he had to wreck the game of Three Strikes. He couldn't let his brother take that swing.

***

It was raining again—not a good sign to Joshua. He decided if he ever got out of here and back home he would have a bonfire and burn every shred of clothes he was wearing. If he never had to look at his soaked sweatshirt again, the happier he'd be.

So far, the forest had been quiet. An occasional owl here and there, some far-off chipmunks (or at least they sounded like chipmunks). Things were now picking up. Life was beginning its morning stir. In the distance, Joshua heard a crow shriek.

The big question on his mind—Have they noticed I'm gone yet? Joshua tried to picture them sleeping soundly in their tents, snoring like jackhammers. Maybe if he wished hard enough, it would come true.

Approaching a difficult area, what looked like a cross section of fallen logs blocking the path, Joshua slowed his pace. He carefully stepped over the leg of a tree trunk. Unfortunately, his shoe didn't come with him. Joshua looked down. One of the tree roots, resembling a four-fingered hand stretching out of the ground, had taken hold of it.

"Okay, that's not real!" Joshua said, tugging on his sneaker. The shoe didn't budge.

He put his feet against the tree trunk and pulled with everything he had, as the root fought against him. Then, as if waiting for the perfect moment to play a practical joke, the root let go. Joshua tumbled backward, falling on his butt between the fallen logs. The rain pelted him in the face, so he covered himself with the blanket. "Maybe I should rest here for a second," he said. "It's a few seconds. It can't hurt, right?"

It was the first time he'd sat down and it felt good, like he could stay there all night. As he huddled underneath, Joshua listened to the constant patter of raindrops hitting the blanket. It was hypnotizing in a way and, coupled with his heavy exhaustion, came dangerously close to lulling him to sleep.

Just a few more seconds. The patter of the rain was drumming heavier and he didn't look forward to leaving his newfound cubbyhole. Oh man, it's really raining now. In fact, it was raining too hard. There was no way it could have increased that much in a few minutes. Joshua took a peek.

It wasn't the rain, but he wished it was. What he saw was worse—a lot worse.

The blanket was swarming with bugs. They looked like overgrown centipedes, only arched in the middle with green stripes down their backs. Joshua screamed and sprung to his feet, flinging the blanket as far as he could. But it did no good. The bugs came streaming from underneath the logs, heading straight toward him. Dozens of them, and the number was growing by the second. Joshua catapulted himself over the nearest log and ran swiftly, but couldn't get away from them. They came from every direction; the green stripes on their backs emitted a fluorescent glow and lit the night sky, while their shrieks filled the air with ominous, wailing tones.

Joshua sprinted ahead, running with desperation and focus. His sides hurt and he knew it wouldn't be long before he got a cramp. The question was whether he or the centipedes would give up first.

The sun had begun its slow rise and darkness was lifting. Ahead in the distance, he thought he saw a clearing. Was he finally coming to the end of the forest? The shrieks sounded more distant, so Joshua took a gamble and looked back.

The centipedes had given up their chase and were crawling back to their home. Joshua raced forward, the clearing up ahead. That's when he heard a rustling in the trees. I better get the heck out of here ... now!

The bats came from everywhere—behind him, beside him, in front of him—filling the sky. That's why the centipedes slowed down. They were giving way to the bats that had arrived to finish the job. Fighting them away, Joshua sprinted for the clearing, praying to God they wouldn't follow him outside the woods.

Scratching him, biting him, they flew after him in droves, darkening the arrival of day, and if Joshua thought the shrieks of the centipedes were bad, they were nothing compared to this. His sides cramped like crazy and he gasped for each breath. All Joshua could do was forget the pain and combat the onslaught. Nothing else mattered except getting out of there alive. He spotted the edge of the forest, though it was difficult with the wings flapping in front of him. He instinctively put his hands in front of his eyes as a bat flew at his face. The bat scratched his knuckle and Joshua, drawing back his hand, saw blood on his fist.

The bats circled around to Joshua's back, gathering in formation, then hurtled themselves into his shoulder blades, dropping to the ground in kamikaze fashion. One by one, the bats struck him in the back and dropped dead to the ground. Joshua ran with everything he had, gulping for air, his sides splitting. Only a few more yards to go. He was going to make it.

He burst into the clearing, away from the bats and the bugs and whatever else was left there. The bats abandoned their chase and retreated into the forest. Joshua saw the mountain in the distance but didn't want to think about it yet. He doubled over and put his hands on his knees, struggling for every ounce of air. If he never saw another forest again, he wouldn't be too upset. Maybe he'd convince his mom to let them move to a tropical island where there were no trees. Joshua's breath finally returned to normal and he slowly stood. Standing in front of him was Ralmaghar, looking none too happy.

So that's why the bats were pushing him. They were leading him to Ralmaghar. Everything he'd gone through had been worthless. They'd known the whole time. "But where is Meruzilak?"

As soon as Joshua whispered his name, everything went into slow motion. The night of the BMX race, the morning of his dad's accident—it was the same feeling now. Joshua was filled with the strongest sense of awareness he'd ever felt. It was like swimming underwater but still being able to see and hear everything on the outside. Ralmaghar towered above Joshua, reaching to grab him. At that second, Joshua knew he needed to duck.

Joshua ducked.

He heard a sound from behind and turned to look. It was Meruzilak, or at least he thought it was Meruzilak. His hair was stringy and his face was caving in on itself. He raised his arm and a beam of light exploded from his hand. Joshua saw it the whole way. It came toward him but flew over the top of his head. If I hadn't ducked just now ...

It caught Ralmaghar in the gut. Ralmaghar lifted his head, stunned, and for the first time, Joshua saw something in his eyes that went deeper than hatred and anger. Joshua saw fear and knew that, wizard or not, Ralmaghar couldn't escape death. He was seeing his life flash before his eyes. Seconds later, he was dead, destroyed by his master's hand.

Steam rose from Meruzilak's skull and his eyes dripped silvery fluid. "Pity," he said and turned away.

In the distance, Joshua heard a noise. He saw something flying through the air, coming toward them. As it drew closer, Joshua identified it—like in the painting, it was a giant cicada bird. Its wings were clear with purple veins running through, while its eyes, spaced far apart and bulging from its face, shone red. It hovered above them for a moment then descended upon Ralmaghar's lifeless body.

Seconds passed and Joshua wondered what was going on. Nothing was happening. Joshua kept watching and soon found out. It started small, not much more than a whisper. A thin vapor arose from Ralmaghar's body. The corpse, however, lay motionless. As the vapor wrested itself from the body, the whisper became a cry. Ralmaghar's spirit was being taken, but not without a fight.

Joshua couldn't watch anymore. Ralmaghar's soul was being added to the host of others, the ones Joshua saw in the fire. The spirit violently resisted, but it was obviously fighting a losing battle, being drawn into the bird's opened maw. Joshua put his hands over his ears; the sound was ten times worse than any nails on a chalkboard. Ralmaghar's spirit finally surrendered and, as quickly as it had come, the giant bird flew away.

Standing there, listening to the crackle of far-off thunder, Joshua realized he was all alone with Meruzilak, who had killed a seven-foot wizard in the blink of an eye and was getting uglier by the second. It was highly doubtful he'd be in the cheeriest of moods toward Joshua now.

Steam poured from his nostrils, and his face folded in on itself like a rotting sponge. He spread his arms wide and lifted himself into the air. With lifeless eyes, he glared at Joshua. "For someone with little time left to live, you seem intent on pressing your luck. It will be a pleasure to kill you and your brother." Meruzilak flashed his hand forward and a sheet of blackness came down.

It was the last thing Joshua remembered.
Chapter 34

The Chasm

The morning broke early, and though he was awake, Daniel kept his eyes closed. Something inside him knew that after this day he could never go back to being normal Daniel Braden again. He wanted to soak up the last remaining moments before his life changed.

This was it, the end of their journey. Together they would fight Meruzilak and win, or else. Either way, there was no going back. Daniel opened his eyes. It was time.

Alistair stood at the far end of the cloud. He seemed stoic, Daniel noticed. Stoic, but strong. Daniel appreciated his confidence; he knew one of them would need it. He joined Alistair at the wall.

Alistair parted the cloud like a window. "Take a look around."

Daniel's eyes widened. It was a portrait of their journey from eighteen thousand feet. From up here, the hills they climbed appeared as thumbprints on the ground, the lake they crossed a puddle. Daniel looked down at the mountain, towering over the landscape.

"So when do we leave?" he asked.

Alistair remained quiet, as if waiting for Daniel to draw upon the inference. It didn't take long and an expression of terror flashed across Daniel's face.

"I know that look, Alistair. I know that look and I don't like it. What are you not telling me?"

Sometimes silence speaks louder than the most resonant of screams. Daniel understood what it meant: Alistair was not coming. He felt tears welling in his eyes.

"I can't do this alone," he cried. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't coming? You knew I wouldn't have come, that's why. You suckered me, Alistair."

When he finally spoke, Alistair answered in a firm voice. "This part of the journey you must go alone. I can better protect you from up here."

Daniel turned away. Deep down, he knew Alistair was right—he'd suspected it for some time now; Alistair had even given a couple of hints—but he still felt betrayed and wished it didn't have to be this way.

Alistair placed his hands on Daniel's shoulder. "I won't tell you not be scared. The fear will always be there, Daniel. There is nothing we can do about that. Courage is doing what you have to do in spite of being scared."

Daniel managed a defeated smile. "Well, why don't you go in my place then?"

"I wish I could. Take courage, Daniel. You have the spirit of your ancestors. They are watching over you now."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know. I hope so. It would be an honor."

The lump in his throat tightened. He hadn't anticipated it being this difficult. Maybe there is no way of getting around it—goodbyes always suck.

"I'll see you later," Daniel said and jumped out of the cloud.

***

Wait a minute. What was he doing? He just jumped from thousands of feet up with no parachute. "Am I crazy?" Daniel screamed as he shot across the sky, his cheeks flapping against the rushing wind. "Whoaaaaaaaaa!"

It was better than he ever imagined, the mad rush of sight and sound. He was flying through the air with no restrictions, no limitations. It had been a dream of his all his life. Daniel had never felt so free ... or so alive.

He knew Alistair was guiding him, so in the meantime he let himself enjoy the ride. The wind smacked against his face, but it was joyous. He found smiling helped keep his face from locking up, but he would've been smiling, anyway. This was a million times better than any carnival ride. Daniel flew into a cloud and was temporarily blinded.

"Awesome!" he yelled as he burst through the clearing. "Just awesome!"

The mountain was even more spectacular from the air, with its frozen waterfalls and statuesque, barren pines. A group of wyverns even stood on the backside. Daniel waved to one of them as it spotted him. If he never got a chance to go skydiving, it wouldn't matter. It could never come close to topping this. He had a clear view of the summit now. He was flying in a straight line in its direction—about time to put on the brakes.

"All right, Alistair, anytime now." Daniel spread his arms and slowed down. The descent was graceful and fluid; Alistair was a pro. Daniel approached the mountain summit and landed firmly on his feet. "That was too cool."

His enthusiasm was short-lived. Daniel remembered why he was here and the knot in his stomach squeezed tighter. It was he alone, on top of the world (whatever world this may be), and the loneliest, most abandoned feeling imaginable. His lips trembled and his fingers shook, and it took everything he had to not curl into a ball and stay there.

"Yeah, well, that's not going to happen," said Daniel. "I came here to do a job and I'm not leaving until it's done. Now, where is the summit? That's where I'll find the chasm."

Chasm. It was such a strange sounding word. What was it he expected to find? Images passed through his mind of prehistoric birds and searing lava, maybe the sounds of iron clanking. Daniel lowered himself down a small ledge. "There it is," he whispered.

The trembling made the words stick in his throat. No birds, no lava. No iron. This was probably worse. Currents of lightning swirled beneath its purplish moat, tendrils of smoke lifted into the silvery air. Daniel stood at the chasm's edge and looked down upon its icy mantle, letting the sounds fill his senses.

The breaking of the ice below crashed like cymbals. The voices from the tunnel—he heard them clearly, only this time without the splitting headache or almost passing out. He was filled with an awareness so deep it seemed sketched in animation. Daniel felt connected. He felt the bond of his ancestors and knew this was where he was supposed to be—right here, right now. Scared enough to pee his pants, but in the right place. He took off his pack and brought out the stone.

So this was it, he thought. The key to everything was right here. It was hard to believe this little stone could mean so much, and here he was barely able to hold it because his hands were so cold. "All right, let's do this," Daniel said and held the stone high, waiting for it to do its thing.

But nothing happened.

Again, he offered the onyx. "Maybe it takes a while to get warmed up."

Hold on a minute. Warmed up? Of course. I should have started heating it when I was inside the cloud. He put the stone inside his shirt and rubbed it briskly.

"Come on, hurry. Do your thing."

Nothing. The ground blew by in a whisper. "Daniel," he heard it say. "Come here," the rocks spoke.

"This isn't real," he told himself. "It's all tricks." The air breathed his name. "I won't listen," he said. "It's not real. If only this stupid rock would work."

***

Joshua had never been so happy to see his brother in his entire life—or so sad, either. He remembered what happened to Staggor and Ralmaghar. They were images forever burned into his memory, and unless he did something to save him, Daniel was about to be added to the list.

Joshua couldn't bear to look at Meruzilak. His face was hardly even a face anymore. It was coming apart and the weirdest thing was that mud and dirt were flying up and attaching to what was left. It's like he's gone through seven layers of ugly since we've been here.

Meruzilak, Joshua noted, paid little, if any, attention to him. He cared about one thing: Daniel. He wanted to kill him, and Joshua couldn't let that happen. But how was he supposed to save him? He was a boy. Meruzilak was showing his true power and the mountain obeyed his every command. This was what he'd planned all along. This was what the crystal things were for. What could Joshua do? Probably nothing, but it wasn't going to stop him from trying. A maggot fell from Meruzilak's chin and landed on Joshua's neck. "Yuck." He almost gagged as he flicked it away. Meruzilak failed to notice.

***

"Joshua," Daniel whispered. "How is this possible? It can't be."

But it was. Somehow, someway, Joshua must have stepped through the portal and been captured by ... Meruzilak.

The word sent a chill down Daniel's arm. Until then, it had been a name—an unseen enemy—but now he put a face to the name and it made his blood turn cold. He was looking upon pure evil. Just like in his dreams.

He felt a burning and palpable fear. His nightmares, after all, were coming true before his eyes. But he also felt overwhelming awe. Though evil, Meruzilak was equally impressive. The rain and melted snow were vacuumed up by his presence. And, of course, he felt hate—for everything Meruzilak had done, for the ones he tortured and the souls he kept in agony. He was also holding Joshua prisoner, so chalk up one more reason for Daniel to despise him. Nobody was allowed to pick on his brother. Nobody except me, Daniel added.

Daniel turned his eyes toward Joshua. Joshua looked so much older, like he wasn't the same kid who'd pestered him all these years. He also looked so helpless, standing tiny next to Meruzilak. Daniel steeled himself. He must face Meruzilak head-on, man against monster, boy against wizard. His brother's life depended on it.

The wind howled and lashed against his cheeks. He knew this was how Meruzilak wanted it. He wanted Daniel scared, wanted him to know the full extent of his power, that he could crush him in an instant. He knew Alistair was protecting him the best he could, but it wasn't working. He was being slowly pulled, and though he was sure he wasn't moving, somehow he was getting closer. Daniel stood strong, unflinching.

Meruzilak raised his arms, his staff a serpent in his hand. He grew larger in front of Daniel's eyes. "Give me the stone!" The ground cracked under Daniel's feet.

"Not on your life," Daniel answered, and when he did, his voice was confident and firm.

A fireball shot from Meruzilak's hands. Daniel crossed his arms, and the fireball deflected off his wrists. Meruzilak, for a brief second, looked surprised, then the rage in his eyes deepened and he went after Daniel with relentless fury.

It wasn't like he had a lot of time to think about it—Daniel was acting on instinct. He felt strength running through him that was as startling as it was empowering. The next fireball came and Daniel shielded himself, though he felt the sting from this one and stumbled backward. Meruzilak grinned. There was the weakness he was looking for. He sent a stream of fire Daniel's way. "Give me the stone," he yelled.

"You'll have to peel it out of my cold, dead hands first."

Meruzilak strengthened his attack. "It will be a pleasure."

***

Joshua couldn't tolerate it anymore, seeing his brother hurt like this. _I can't stand around and let Daniel get roasted like a pig on a stick._ He picked up a rock and chucked it at Meruzilak's head. He didn't expect it to actually work, he was trying to get the monster's attention away from Daniel. Joshua dashed forward to help his brother.

Meruzilak felt the rock hit him in the face and ceased his assault. He saw Joshua racing to his brother's side. "All the better," he thundered. "I can kill you together."

Joshua had never run quicker; he'd never screamed louder. He'd also never tripped harder. His shoelace caught underneath his heel and he tumbled forward, his arms splayed in front of him. He smashed into Daniel, knocking him off his feet and causing him to drop the onyx.

Daniel searched the area. "Joshua, do you see it?"

"See what?"

"The stone from the library. We have to find it, Joshua. Fast."

Meruzilak sent a gush of fire Daniel's way that made the others pale in comparison. "Hurry, Joshua."

"Why do you delay the inevitable?" Meruzilak said. "Can't you see it's pointless?" He hit Daniel with another blast and Daniel fell hard to the ground. "Your friend Alistair can't protect you, anymore."

Daniel knew he wouldn't last much longer. His strength was fading while Meruzilak's power grew stronger with each blast. Their one hope was Joshua, that he reached the stone in time. It was a long shot, Daniel knew, but it was their final shot.

Joshua spotted the onyx. It landed near the chasm ledge but wasn't going to stay there long. It had started to roll and was picking up speed. The problem was Joshua couldn't stand up—it was too slippery and he kept falling. He had to slide down on his butt, steadying himself by digging his fingers into the cracks of rock. He slipped and nearly lost his balance.

"Joshua, hurry."

"I'm trying."

Joshua knew he wouldn't make it. The stone was falling too fast. It was heading straight for the chasm and would be lost unless he did something. There was one thing he could think to do, so he pumped his fists several times, trying to work up the courage to do it. "Here goes nothing," he said and let himself fall.

Joshua hurtled toward the rim of the abyss, grabbing the stone as he slid past. With his free hand, he caught himself between the splinters in the ground before he fell off. He looked up, his face full of wonder. "I got it, Daniel!"

It was then the world stopped.

Daniel could only watch. What was happening? Meruzilak looked madder than a viper, yet he and Joshua were still alive. Was it Alistair? Daniel raised his eyes, trying to spot their cloud. He couldn't find it, though he did see two wyverns circling the mountain's tallest spire.

"Wherever you are," Daniel whispered to his friend, "I don't know what you're doing, but thanks. And keep it up." He spotted his brother, who'd climbed back onto the ledge. As soon as they made eye contact, Daniel saw fear in Joshua's eyes. "What's wrong?" he called. To show him, Joshua held up the onyx.

The stone was glowing in Joshua's hand. Perhaps it had finally warmed up.

Joshua felt power surging inside him, coming to a boil under his skin. The stone shook in his hand. It burned, but Joshua held on tightly. He didn't have any idea what was happening (Daniel seemed to know something about what was going on) but he wasn't about to let go, no matter what.

The pain was almost too much to take. From his arms to his legs, it felt like something was trying to force its way out his body and wasn't going to stop until it had done so, even if it meant ripping apart Joshua's flesh. Joshua shut his eyes and tried to ignore the pain. He clasped both hands around the stone and braced himself. This was it.

The onyx exploded with light. It ruptured the sky, blinding everything in sight. Light seized hold of the landscape, filling it with sparks of orange, red, and blue, and shrouded Joshua with luminance so intense that Daniel had to cover his eyes. He realized immediately, he'd seen this before.

Meruzilak saw the light pouring from Joshua's arms. Everything was slipping away. His plan ruined. How could this have happened, the jewel for his throne lost? The torrent inside him raged, while smoke poured from his temples. "No," he bellowed. He raised his staff and struck the ground with all his force. "I should have killed you."

The ground answered in a low roar. Again, Meruzilak raised his staff and struck the earth. "I should have killed you."

The ground cracked, while the mountain split. The hallmarks of a torn earth.

Meruzilak lifted his arm to deliver a final blow but stopped. The anger left his eyes, replaced by another emotion, one less familiar. The frightened look on his face gave him away, as if he'd seen a ghost. "That's impossible," he said. "It can't be."

There at the summit of the mountain, surrounding Joshua, stood Illiana, Sebastian, and Cornelius. This time, they didn't look sad. They didn't look defeated. They looked determined. Rays of light streamed from the stone, shooting into their fingertips. They were taking their power back. And when they'd done so, the four of them turned on Meruzilak with unceasing fury.

Daniel, through the slits of his fingers, peeked to see what was happening. He saw Illiana's face and knew right away: Meruzilak didn't stand a chance. The word that came to mind was fierce. Yes, Illiana was kind, but she was also fierce and was exacting revenge for a death she witnessed many, many years ago. She sent stream after stream, pounding Meruzilak with each one. Daniel almost felt sorry for him—almost, but not quite.

Meruzilak defended himself briefly, but only briefly. As he shrank in size, the dirt and frost fell from his face and returned to the hardened earth. The silvery ooze crusted inside his eyes.

"No!" he shouted a final time. But it was a defeated cry, with no authority behind it. He was powerless, and what's more, seemed to know it. So when the wyverns circled down on him, he raised his staff as if to destroy them, but it was lip service. And when the smaller of the two grabbed him with its claws, the only thing he could do was blame the boys and yell, "This is your fault!"

Then, as if playing paddleball, the wyvern tossed Meruzilak into the air, while the larger of the two brought its tail down with a heavy thump, catching him and crushing him into the ground. The same ground he destroyed.

Illiana lowered her arms. She glanced at Joshua (who looked to be in a trance), turned, and nodded to the others. She and Cornelius and Sebastian lifted themselves from the ground and flew away. But before she disappeared, Illiana turned to Daniel and smiled. Daniel waved to her. She smiled again, this time wider, and the wrinkles showed near her eyes. A testimony to a life well-lived. Then, just like that, she was gone. Even now, she was as mysterious as when he first met her.

The sky returned to its usual appearance, the earth to its cold barrenness. The heat coming from Joshua evaporated and Daniel was finally able to look at his brother directly. Joshua stood mystified, a confused look on his face.

"Joshua, are you okay?"

"I think so. What happened?"

Daniel made his way over to his brother. He checked to make sure he was safe to touch then lifted him into the air. The boys scrambled to the hole where Meruzilak had been smashed. They looked down into it, though all they saw was an empty spot.

"They really pulverized him," said Joshua. "Good, I'm glad. I hated him. I really hated him."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Daniel said, mussing Joshua's hair. "What are you doing here, anyway? And how did you end up with Meruzilak? This is crazy."

It was all the opening Joshua needed. After all, he'd been trapped for days with no one to talk to.

"Try double crazy. Or triple crazy. The lights and ghosts and caterpillars. And there was this guy, Staggor. Actually, he was more of a lizard but was trying to help me, but I didn't know about it and Meruzilak blasted him with this light thing and he disappeared. Then I was in this cave and—"

"Okay, time out," Daniel said. Once Joshua got started it was hard for him to stop. Besides, he heard noise coming from the chasm. Lots of noise, actually. "Get ready, Joshua," he whispered, turning a keen eye to what was happening. "I've got a feeling we haven't seen anything yet."

For Joshua, as he watched the spirits rise from the chasm and fly away, it was like walking into a movie that was halfway over. He watched it take place but didn't feel anything. For Daniel, he couldn't describe what he was feeling. Every wish, every dream of his for the past year had been for this moment and he wanted it more than anything. He was crying long before his father appeared.

"Dad," the boys yelled and ran to him.

"Daniel! Joshua!" The boys jumped into his arms. "I miss you so much," he said.

"We miss you, too, Daddy," Joshua said, sobbing.

Daniel's lips trembled. He'd dreamed of this moment for so long and now that it was here he couldn't stop crying long enough to say anything. Joel held them for quite some time. Though he was seen as a spirit, to the boys he was no less real than if he'd been sitting on the bed reading them a story. With the emotion of the moment, neither of the boys noticed the other man standing there. He was older, of course, but Daniel would know those eyes anywhere. He wiped the tears from his face and said hello to his granddad.

The boys made their introductions. Grandpa Tucker already knew a great deal about them so it saved the awkward phase of getting acquainted with each other. They swapped stories until finally there was an uncomfortable silence. They all knew what it meant. Sadly, no perfect moment can last forever.

"Dad," Joshua asked, "are you coming back with us?"

Daniel and his father shared a look. "I wish I could, Joshua. More than anything. I need you to do something for me, okay? I want you to take care of your mom. Will you do that, Joshua?"

"Yes, sir."

"Pinky swear?"

Joshua held out his hand. "Pinky swear."

"Dad," Daniel said, "did you know about all this?"

"I knew of Cornelius's prophecy but didn't know it involved the both of you. At least until the day you found me inside the mausoleum. The night before, I woke up and saw your grandfather standing beside me. I didn't know if it was a dream or not. He looked just like I remembered him. He told me there was something I should see.

"I met Illiana, Daniel, like you did. But she refused me the stone. She said it wasn't meant for me. From there, I pieced it together. I was going to tell you. I wanted to wait until you got older. I thought I had more time. I shouldn't have waited."

"Maybe it happened the way it was supposed to happen, Dad."

"I'm so proud of you both. You're so brave. I love you so much. I love your mother so much. I miss her."

"She misses you, too, Dad. She hasn't been the same since you left."

"I wish I didn't have to leave. I'd give all the world to still be there and have us together again. I'm so sorry this had to happen."

"It wasn't your fault, Dad. We know that."

"Come here," Joel said and squeezed them tightly. Even though the boys couldn't feel anything, it might have been the most comforting moment of their lives. "I love you. So does your mother. You both have so much to look forward to."

Joel and the boys said goodbye to each other, and there wasn't a dry eye among them. Then the boys said goodbye to their grandfather, who told them, "See you around." Daniel wasn't sure what he meant by that.

Grandfather and father waved goodbye one final time and floated away. Daniel and Joshua remained silent for several moments, each processing what occurred in his own way, but were interrupted by what sounded like an earthquake. They remembered: Meruzilak split the mountain. They'd better get out of there—and fast.

"I guess the way is down," said Daniel. "Are you ready?"

Joshua looked over the edge. "Oh, man, it's a long way. How did you get up here, anyway?"

Daniel shook his head. "Don't ask. I'll tell you later. For now, let's get the snot out of here."

"Right," said Joshua. "Let's get the snot out of here."

A boulder tumbled past them and spilled over the mountainside. Larger ones, they knew, would soon follow. Daniel took Joshua's hands and helped him down a ledge, and together, the boys made their way down from the summit of the mountain.

They came to a clearing and stopped to rest for a moment. Daniel wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt. "Here, let me see that," he said. Joshua handed him the stone.

"I'm still in shock over what you did back there. And what's up with all the light shooting out of your eyes?"

"Did you see the dragons?" Joshua said. "They were the coolest things ever."

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "I've hung out with them before. I'm used to them."

"Really? That's so cool."

"They're the guardians of the land."

Out of nowhere, a shrieking sound pierced the boys' ears. They looked up and saw an Oren heading straight toward them. Daniel grabbed Joshua by the arm and ducked behind a rock. Meruzilak may have been defeated, there may not be any more souls to take, but he still didn't trust the Oren. It was too ugly to trust.

It landed several feet from them and Daniel peeked from behind the rock, his eyes meeting those of the bird. "Oh, no way," he said and scrambled to his feet. "Come on out, Josh. I want you to meet a friend of mine."

Wings turned to hands, talons into feet. Alistair stood beside the boys, wearing a huge smile. "You didn't think I'd miss out on all the excitement, did you?"

Daniel made the introductions. "Joshua, this is my friend, Alistair. Alistair, this is my brother, Joshua."

"Pleased to meet you, Alistair."

"I'm pleased to meet you, too, Joshua. Are you boys ready to go home?"

Joshua's face lit up.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Daniel answered.

"Then let's go." Alistair slowly changed back into the Oren and the boys climbed on its back. The Oren, with a flutter of its wings, took flight.

As Alistair circled over the summit a final time, Daniel recalled seeing the chasm for the first time, his fear as he stood over it and heard the voices calling to him. He remembered his shock upon seeing Joshua with Meruzilak. He thought about seeing his dad, the final words he'd spoken, and tears streamed down his cheeks. It wasn't a big deal. Besides, Joshua was sitting in front and couldn't see him. All you take with you, Daniel, are the people and memories. People and memories, that's all.

Daniel watched the mountain get smaller and smaller until he finally saw it no more. He took a snapshot in his mind. He wanted to always remember.

Even though it had been nonstop craziness, he knew he'd miss this place. He felt certain when he looked back on it a few years down the road, he wouldn't even remember the danger. More likely, he'd remember Alistair and the cabin, or turning somersaults inside a shape-shifted cloud. That's what he'd remember, the good things: the breakfast spent with the dragons, rowing the canoe while wearing his borrowed cloak, eating koncheuhs by the fire.

As they flew atop the Oren, the boys recounted their stories to each other, and though Daniel was amazed at all Joshua had been through, he was glad when he finally talked himself out. He needed to have a private conversation with Alistair, even if it didn't involve words.

"Alistair," he thought. "Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you, Daniel. How's the flight?"

Daniel wasn't sure how he heard Alistair's thoughts, but he was glad for it. "You were a bit bumpy on takeoff and need some serious padding on this thing, but other than that, it's great. Alistair, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"It was Joshua who made the stone come to life, so that means the prophecy was meant for him. Did you know that beforehand? You said I was—"

"I've been waiting for you to ask that question. I was hoping you wouldn't because I didn't have an answer. I still don't. I've only been able to come up with one explanation."

"And what is that?"

"That Illiana, Cornelius, and Sebastian were more brilliant than we ever imagined."

"How do you figure?"

"If the three of them knew that when they passed on, their souls would be taken by Meruzilak, they must have suspected he had access to their memories. He would surely learn about the prophecy and what they'd done. However, I think they found a way to throw him off the trail.

"I haven't spoken much of Sebastian, nor his power, but Sebastian possessed a unique gift. In fact, he was a distant relation of mine. He was a concealer."

"Concealer?"

"Do you remember after we saw the Oren, when I made the replication of you?"

"How could I forget? It was the best hologram ever."

"Again, I don't know ..."

"I know, I know. You don't know what a hologram is."

"But, yes, similar to that. I was concealing our actual location. But a true concealer is much more than that. He is able to conceal not only actions, but thoughts. Like a blanket thrown over the head of someone trespassing. Sebastian, if I'm guessing correctly, threw a blanket over Meruzilak's searchlights, allowing the three of them to keep their memories concealed, if for a few seconds. They gave the false prophecy to you, then handed the real one to Joshua.

"By giving you the stone, Meruzilak would assume you were the one to whom the prophecy referred. As he traveled to the summit to find you, he unknowingly brought about his destruction by taking Joshua with him. Illiana must have known that Meruzilak's arrogance would keep Joshua alive long enough to reach the summit."

Daniel's grin flattened. There was a deeper concern.

"You haven't asked a very important question, one I'm sure you have considered."

"I'm sure there's more than one. Which is it?"

"Why would they place you in such danger?"

Daniel paused before speaking. "Why would they?"

"There's no easy answer to that, at least one that will make you feel good. Sometimes things don't work out exactly like we want them to. There are rough edges to smooth sides. Perhaps they weighed the options and decided the sacrifice was worth it if it meant lifting the curse. Does that upset you?"

"I don't know. Yeah, I guess it does. I mean, I know on one hand that it didn't make a difference. If we—or Joshua—didn't stop Meruzilak, we would have all been sent to the chasm; but on the other hand, I thought Illiana and I ..."

"Were friends?"

"It's silly, I know."

"It's not silly. It's perfectly normal. You have to trust me; if there were any other way, she would have never put anyone at risk. That includes you especially, Daniel."

"Thanks, Alistair." It was a weak response but the best he could give under the circumstances.

The time passed smoothly. Joshua, who'd never seen the land Daniel knew all too well, sat up like a kid on his first monorail ride, wide-eyed, taking in every sight. Daniel allowed himself the moment to process everything that was said and revealed. He doubted he'd tell Joshua, or at least until he was old enough to take it all in. He'd probably tell him twenty, thirty percent, but that was it. The rest might give him nightmares. Lizards and caves are one thing, but souls being taken prisoner are concerns a boy shouldn't think about until he's at least thirteen. Of course, Daniel was still a couple of months away from thirteen. Well, for all he'd been through, he was thirteen in experience—probably fourteen or fifteen.

Joshua turned and punched Daniel in the arm. "Look over there," he said, getting so excited he almost fell off the Oren.

Daniel's heart skipped a beat. There it was, the portal light—they were going home. Alistair landed beside it and the boys climbed down.

The first time he'd seen the portal was one of the most terrifying moments of Daniel's life. Now, it was one of the happiest and he couldn't wait to get through it. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Joshua eagerly nodded.

"Just give me a minute, okay?" There was one more thing to do—one final goodbye—and he didn't look forward to it. He turned to face Alistair for the last time.

"This has been a crazy adventure, hasn't it?"

"It has, indeed," said Alistair. "One I will not soon forget."

Daniel smiled. "You know, I'm going to miss your crazy way of talking."

"And I will miss your crazy way of talking to yourself."

Daniel brought out the stone from his pack. "What do I do with this now?"

"Keep it. Let it serve as a reminder. Never forget what you have seen here."

"It's a promise," said Daniel. He put the onyx into his jeans pocket. "You know, I want to thank you for everything you did for me. For the both of us. You're a really good friend, Alistair."

"You are welcome. I will always be your friend, even though we are worlds apart. Friendship is in the heart, Daniel. It is not broken by distance. Always remember that."

Daniel nodded. Though he didn't say so, he was going to miss Alistair.

Alistair reached out to shake Joshua's hand. "It was an honor to meet you, Joshua. I'd heard much about you, but stories are never a substitute for the real thing. You were very brave out there today."

"Thank you." Joshua blushed.

"Oh, by the way," said Daniel. "I meant to tell you. Awesome sky dive from the cloud this morning. You nailed the landing. It was perfect."

Alistair raised his arms and slowly faded from sight. "I had nothing to do with it. You did that all by yourself. Goodbye, Daniel. Goodbye, Joshua."

The boys watched until he finally disappeared. Daniel was floored. What did he mean by that? Was he actually saying that I fl—?

"Hey, come on, let's go," Joshua said. Daniel shook his head. Oh, well, he could figure that one out later. Right now, they had a portal to get through.

The boys stood at the entrance. Daniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Would they ever see this place again? He doubted it, but then again, who knows? Stranger things have happened.

"We'll go at the same time, all right?"

"Deal." They took each other's hand. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay, here we go. One ... two ... THREE!"

Epilogue

The boys looked around. They were home. "Yeah, we did it!" they shouted and jumped down the mausoleum steps.

"Don't worry," Daniel said. "Being gone hasn't changed anything. You're still as ugly as you ever were."

Joshua wasn't about to let the opportunity slip away. "Yeah, well, you're still dumb as a box of rocks. Now, let's go. I'll race you home."

"Yeah, right, like that's going to be a close race."

The boys dashed across the arboretum, past their granddad's house and the old fishpond. It was like seeing it all for the first time. Through the woods, Daniel slowed down—just enough to let Joshua keep up. As they raced down the gravel road, they heard their mother's voice and ran faster.

"Mom!" The boys bounded into her arms.

Emi hugged the boys tightly. "I love you both so much."

"We love you, too, Mom."

Daniel wiped the final tear from his cheek. His mom was still wearing her robe, he noticed. How much time had elapsed since they disappeared? Had it been a week, a day, a month? He shrugged his shoulders. Right now, it wasn't important. They were together again and that's all that mattered.

"Mom," Daniel asked, "can we order pizza?" He thought of Marco's extra cheese and pepperoni. Somewhere out there, Alistair was smiling. He was sure of it.

"Yes, you can order pizza."

"Can we stay up late?"

Emi tried to hide her smile. She knew their game well enough by now. "I guess so. But just this once."

Daniel hesitated for a second. He may never get her in this good of a mood again; might as well give it a shot. "Mom, am I still grounded?"

"Are you still grounded?" Emi paused before answering, if for nothing more than dramatic effect. "You can bet your life on it."

Oh, well, it never hurts to try.

