The Glass Key 1p5y1h

The Glass Key

Joanna Marsden

Revised May 2015

Copyright © 2015 Joanna Marsden.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Archway Publishing 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN 47403 www.archwaypublishing.com 1-(888)-242-5904

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1426-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1424-0 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-4808-1425-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900823

Archway Publishing rev. date: 05/18/2015

Contents

Cast of Characters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Acknowledgments

This book is dedicated to Olivia, Ruby, Eva, Zoe and Sophie

Cast of Characters

Belle & Toby Best friends/young teens/NQCs (Not Quite Cousins) Anna & T.J./Louisa & Alden Belle’s parents /Toby’s parents Mennoc Guardian Guide of the NQCs into a Far-Past Time Rannah & Ojo Village Healers/Oron’s mother & grandmother Oron Rannah’s son/Enon’s “Brother”/Neras’ dear friend Ania Mother of Enon & Neras/secluded wife of Darkoden Enon Young Village Leader/Saren’s brother/friend of NQCs Neras/Saren Enon’s sister under a cruel enchantment Darkoden/“Darko” Village Chief/Ania’s absent husband/Enon & Neras father The Wizard Villain/also: Fleeog or Fleea, his shape-shifting guises Oleb & Thonn Young lads in the cave with other youngsters Mila & Lehn Young couple Janock Blacksmith Chieftains Village Chiefs conducting “The Visiting Times”

“Pouncer” Mennoc’s cat/“Woof” loyal dog/ “3 P” Enon’s pup/The Crow, enchanted man

Numerous woodland creatures of all kinds active in the rescue.

Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future And time future contained in time past.

—T.S.Eliot

Chapter 1

F OR TOBY AND BELLE, “SUMMER-TIME” really meant just one thing, being here at the lodge to roam these vast rolling hills for hours on end. Not long ago, the mountain-style lodge was a rustic inn with two floors of spacious comfortable rooms, just right for their two families. Belle and Toby were called NQC (Not Quite Cousins) by their friends, at first just a joke, but the nickname stuck. What also stuck was their dynamic enduring friendship, now transformed over the years into a unique partnership: being a team in every respect. Toby’s full name was Tobias, after his grandfather, Olpa, the only grandparent Toby ever knew. Belle and Toby loved the old, age-yellowed photos of Olpa in the family album. His thick, wiry hair was his trademark, not a chance of mistaking him for anyone else. And when Toby tried to tame his own dark red, unruly hair, it was no mystery, as Belle joked, where his mop-top came from. Now as young teenagers, the friends trekked for hours along familiar woodland trails, taking turns trying to imagine the ancient settlements of long, long ago. Sparked by folklore and local history of the area, they pictured these vast hills populated by early tribal peoples with mythic, potent customs. In their imaginations, questions about the past glowed with a steady flame. How many times had they asked themselves: “Who once lived here? Whose footsteps agesago made these paths we’re following right now?” How they wished to find answers! Yet, this was not simply a game. The two friends were always on the lookout to spy a bit of evidence to the local legends and enrich their own visions of the past. This summer the young friends, now very experienced hikers, decided to explore an entirely new region of an immense mountainside deeply clothed in pine and fir forests. The last two days were overcast and stormy, but they hoped the clearing skies promised a fine stretch of weather. If so, they planned to start out early tomorrow on their hike, just after sunrise as usual. Their preparations for a long trek now followed a familiar ritual involving both families after dinner. Spreading out their big map on the long worktable under the over-head lamp, Belle and Toby outlined their plans in detail. They circled an

entirely new region of the high peaks, dotted with inviting trails along the stony banks of swift streams, where foaming rapids and waterfalls smoothed massive boulders. It looked challenging and exciting. After offering a few suggestions, their parents fondly recalled their own canoe trips of past years. Relaxed and smiling, they ed with pleasure the silent glide of their canoes on flat-water rivers that twined into marshy woods or sunny hummocks full of bright bog flowers. As Belle was saying goodnight to her parents, her mom, Anna, said they’d like a “pow-wow” before she went to bed. Usually a time to discuss family plans, these were regular short family discussions, almost always centering on work schedules, or other everyday matters. “Sure” said Belle, and gave it no further thought. Yet, when they sat in the upstairs book room, and her mom began by clearing her throat, Belle instantly sensed this would be no ordinary family discussion. And as Anna began with a slight tremble in her voice, Belle knew for sure they had some serious news. “Belle, we have some sad news about Gram. She’s suddenly having some serious health problems, and it’s clear she can’t look after herself any longer alone in her big old house.” Belle started to ask a question, but her Dad, T.J. tapped her knee saying, “Please wait, Belle, wait until you’ve heard everything. There’s more than one issue we want you to know about. There’ll be lots of time for questions, I promise.” “Your Dad and I,” continued Anna, “have been going over lots of options, and all of them are difficult. Of course, Gram’s well being is our focus, and we want you to know what’s in the works, and what we’re still considering. All these matters will affect you, Belle, will affect all of us, and there’s no time to lose.” Now fully alert, Belle listened attentively to every word. Every detail reflected how really worried her parents looked, how totally serious they sounded. Their worry-wrinkled faces, their voices, the way they leaned toward her, all clearly signaled that Gram’s health was a major worry, a real crisis. “First,” said Anna, “ and this is a definite decision, we’re going to sell the lodge. Louisa and Alden have already agreed. So, even if the lodge doesn’t sell quickly,

this summer will be our last time here.” “Oh, No! No!” pleaded Belle, but stopped as soon as she saw her mother’s eyes filled with tears. Her Dad, put his arm around her shoulder. Instantly, Belle looked down. She couldn’t bear seeing the sadness on her parents’ faces as she listened, so she sat hunched over, as if making herself smaller might make everything seem less awful. Now T.J. continued, describing some possibilities, such as moving into Gram’s house, and taking care of her there. Gram’s big house was surely roomy enough. No problem about that. But the move itself was the big decision, since it meant a move across country to the other coast. Belle instantly knew what that meant. Changing schools, leaving all her friends, changing everything, every single thing. Moving to Gram’s meant she and Toby might not see each other ever again. Sure, maybe for a holiday, but even that was a “maybe.” How could this be happening? Belle felt shaken, her world seemed to be falling apart. Anna continued, saying that another possibility was to have Gram come live with them, something fairly easy to arrange. But that option depended on Gram’s health, on Gram’s needs: as such, that was still an open matter. As her parents listed the things to work out, Belle became totally lost in thought not really giving her attention to the rest of what her parents said. She could only think about the unthinkable: moving away leaving all her friends, but especially, saying good-bye to Toby, maybe forever. “Never hiking their hills ever again?” she asked herself. “Impossible! How can this be happening?” By this time, Anna and Belle were both trying to hold back tears, as T.J. did his best to comfort them, sadness etched on his face. Clearly, all of them felt miserable, visibly stricken by this downturn in Gram’s health, and the drastic changes it meant for everyone. Then Anna took a deep breath, saying, “That’s enough for now! Tomorrow, dad and I are going berry picking with Louisa and Alden in the afternoon, as we planned. And, Belle, please finish organizing your things and get your backpack ready. We want you and Toby to go on your hiking trip early tomorrow as planned, especially now that the weather’s turning nice.” Now looking directly at Belle, she said, “We insist, Belle. Moping around won’t help anything. And after

all these plans sinks in, we’ll make time to talk about it some more, I promise.”

ξ

With their supplies all packed and ready, the two friends set off very early the next morning, leaving a note saying they’d be back for dinner but not much before. In the past, starting out was always promising for the friends, happily sharing the special excitement of anticipating new trails. Yet, though they relished the challenge of new hills and paths, even more they treasured their freedom, the adventure of roaming, exploring these hills all day on their own. Even as young kids, they always thought of these familiar wooded hills and meadows as theirs, their very own. And although they never would have said it in quite those words, especially now as teens, they really never stopped thinking about these familiar hills that way. These never-ending paths, these vast mountain meadows were theirs: their Kingdom. But not today: today everything was totally different. All they could think of and talk about was how their world seemed totally changed. How over-night it seemed everything had flipped upside-down. Belle couldn’t stop asking herself: “When will it all be settled? Poor Gram, what was going to happen to her? Why can’t things stay the same?” Suddenly without warning, the friends felt tripped-up. Everything seemed offtrack, tangled and knotted, as if they were trapped somewhere without an exit. Our last summer here? Impossible! They couldn’t even begin to take in the idea. Could this really be happening? Out-of-the-blue, they felt their friendship being shattered, their world falling apart. They even resisted putting their worst fears into words, as if actually saying the words would make it happen, would make it real. Feeling totally glum and dragged-down, they hardly noticed a thing on their path. It seemed they couldn’t stop repeating how they felt about the shocking suddenness of it all. If only there was something they could do. Then, they

would lapse into a sullen moody silence. Yet, their worries didn’t fade, but remained circling round and round in their heads. They felt stuck, unable to find solutions and unable to let it go. “We need to let it sink in,” they told each other. “No way this is our last summer here, no way.” “We’ve got to think of something… we’ve got to.” “In this rotten mood, we can’t even think straight. And besides, besides,…” their voices trailed off . “Bla-Bla-Bla,” Toby laughed suddenly. “A really bad case of the bla-bla-blas almost went viral there for a while.” Then, seeing Belle’s dismayed expression, he stopped. “Don’t get me wrong, Belle. I know how really rotten this is. But until we figure out something, we’re just running in circles, dragging ourselves down…making everything worse. Let’s cut and paste it away for a while, maybe we’ll figure out something. Come on, no more Bla-Bla-Blas, for a while, OK?” Frowning, Belle looked at Toby, “Yeah, T., you’re right,” she agreed slowly. “OK,” giving him a friendly arm punch. “Lead on, Oh Wise One. You’ve already gotten the WBY²* award for the day, and it isn’t even noon yet.” (A “WBY*award”, was a long-standing joke among their classmates, quoting a teacher who said a kid’s behavior in a story showed: “Wisdom Beyond Youthful Years.”) This kind of give and take between the two friends was typical, and they grew to depend on each other exactly for this kind of full-stop/shift. As best friends they relished getting along so well, easily saying how they felt about things, never keeping secrets or being competitive and jealous. Easy-going, yet so fine-tuned to each other, they could often predict each other’s comments or reactions. Even so, each one was different enough to neatly fill in the blanks between them. For Toby and Belle solving a problem was fun, almost a game, and they bounced ideas around eager to match just the right solution to a given situation. Trusting each other A-to-Z, the two friends never doubted even for a moment where they

stood with one another. Of the two, Belle was the serious one. Hers was an unusual mix: while being thoroughly curious, yet at times she seemed just a bit cautious. And although practical through and through, Belle was quite often more than a little stubborn. Always eager to solve a problem, especially to help a friend in a pickle, Belle at times revealed a somewhat surprising streak of acting on impulse. As for Toby, everyone knew he loved to joke, and could almost always be relied upon to find some joke to crack up a dull or tense moment . Yet without doubt, he was more patient than Belle, much more willing to let things play out, and never was quick to judge. Above all, he loved finding a simple, yet if possible, a quirky solution to a problem, especially if there was a surprise or a trick in it. That was his trademark.

Chapter 2

T HE FRIENDS CLIMBED STEADILY INTO the high mountain valley, part of a vast chain of open meadows and gently rising slopes. The fields ahead were carpeted with wildflowers, the early morning air alive with bird song and humming insects. The warm sun on their backs felt good in the cold air. By noon Belle would have tucked her thick dark braid under her cap, to let the breeze cool her neck. For now in the cool air, her braid hung down her back just below her shoulders. Toby tugged her braid to signal, “let’s stop for a minute.” Having made good progress for a few hours, they decided to stop for a snack, survey the area, and mark their map before going on. It was a perfect place to take their bearings, full of unusual, odd landmarks, all easy to . As they looked around for a place to sit and open their map, they quickly saw that immense flat slabs of granite seemed to be scattered over much of the meadow. Trying to figure it out between them, one fanciful impression they shared was that the meadow looked as if giants had set up stone tables for a feast. Naming this part of the trail “Stone Tables Meadow” on their map, they planned a return trip. “What better place for a picnic?” “Oh, Oh,” they looked at each other after saying it, instantly recognizing the “don’t-go-there” topic. Indeed, would they have other chances for picnics here in the future, they wondered? Yet, determined not to “go gloomy” again, they shook off the troublesome topic, and changed the subject. Carefully looking around and suddenly speaking softly as if they might be overheard, they agreed that this meadow, pretty as it was, seemed a bit spooky. Something felt odd, had a kind of hard-to-pinpoint strangeness, an eerie feeling that something was going on here. Looking over their shoulders, they shared the sense that something was about to happen. Making an effort to put aside their weird impressions, the friends began to notice features that piqued their curiosity. In a shallow depression where water

collected and pooled over low stones, intense colored bog flowers were growing. Bog plants! What a surprise! Who would have guessed we’d find a bog up here in this high meadow? They easily recognized the plants from biology class. Unique, the pitcher plants’ hollow, slender tubes with ruffled open tops lured insects with an enticing scent, then dissolved them for food. Toby said softly but mostly to himself, “Oh, Yum! Bugs for lunch, glad I’m not a pitcher-plant.” Belle almost burst out laughing. “Yep, that’s T. all right! If he isn’t saying something funny out loud, he’s sure to be thinking it to himself with that telltale lop-sided grin on his face.” Now, from one of the pitchers they heard the frantic buzzing of a wild bee trapped inside. Not knowing which pitcher held the bee, they tipped over several of the hollow pitchers, spilling out insects, mostly flies and spiders, ‘till they saw the bee escape. As Toby named the scurrying critters, Belle laughingly waved them goodbye, wishing them “Bon Voyage.” At that moment, Belle recalled Toby’s mom saying that no good deed is ever wasted. “Oh, Yeah,” Belle quipped to herself. “Saving flies and spiders, that’s really noble! When I tell Louisa about setting the bog critters free, I just know she’ll give me one of her ‘say it isn’t so,’ looks.” As they sat on the huge flat granite slabs, now warmed by the sun, Belle took off her backpack shifting things to locate her small camera. She wanted a shot of those weirdly- wonderful bog flowers, and knelt nearby to get an up-close shot. But something sharp and hard on the ground made her reach down to move whatever it was away from her knee. What she found made her laugh in surprise. It was a tiny key, green and gritty with age, almost completely buried in the ground. When she picked it up to show Toby, it seemed to neatly fall apart into halves. They laughed as each put half of the little key into their shirt pocket as a memento. “Something really old, from the past,” Belle mused out loud. “But, hey, maybe this could be just the sort of thing we’re always hoping to find. Now,” said Belle, leaning in close with her camera, ”let me get this just right.” While watching the insects fly and rush away from the bog, something caught

their eye that they might otherwise have missed. They saw a thin shaft of sunlight glinting off a shiny surface somewhere in the woods. Whatever it was, it had been almost invisible in the deep shadows of a stand of dark fir trees. Now looking more carefully, they saw that the sunlight caught the smooth surface of what looked like door. Their questioning looks seemed to ask: “Is that possible? Up here, a door to a small cabin?” Yet, that’s exactly what it appeared to be, a tiny cabin tucked against the steep stone bluff at the far edge of the meadow. Almost always while walking quietly on their mountain treks, it was the friends’ habit to speak very softly or point; tap a shoulder; tug a sleeve or a braid to signal something catching their eye. That way they didn’t startle wildlife, yet could share what they noticed. However, their favorite way of making silent was to use Sign. Along with all their friends Belle and Toby learned Sign Language as kids when Belle’s Mom taught children with hearing problems. Learning Sign in elementary school, the third graders relished it as their very own code: their silent, special way to “talk.” Their teachers quickly picked up a few words in Sign, and soon everyone ed the Sign Club, as they called it. Now, g and pointing to the door, they peered more closely at this unexpected sight, their heads in a questioning tilt, their eyebrows raised. Now, wide-eyed with open curiosity, their faces were filled with let’s-check-it-out excitement. “OK! Now to see that door,” they eagerly Signed, as they walked closer. However, as they came nearer they began to have second thoughts. Almost hidden in the shadows of the trees, they realized that the door was part of a small log cabin, where a thin curl of smoke rose from the chimney. Clearly, someone lived there. No way would they want to intrude. Then through the half-open door, they heard very soft music coming from inside. How about that? Curious! No doubt about it, someone was living up here in this isolated little cabin. Agreeing not to disturb whoever lived here, the friends were about to turn around, when a soft voice called to them. “Oh, please, don’t go. Do come in. You are most truly welcome. And I would

enjoy meeting you. You are not disturbing me at all. Please, please come in, if only to say hello.” Now feeling shy, and regretting their over-eager, very un-grown up curiosity, Toby gently opened the small, low frame door. Each stooping a little, they entered a cozy, welcoming room. It seemed to be a one-room cabin, with one wall of bookshelves filled to overflowing, with even more books stacked on the floor nearby. An oval, faded braid rug covered part of the wide-plank wooden floor, and on the window ledge little odd shaped clay pots held a few small plants whose tiny flowers brighten the room. Some rustic furniture completed the simple setting. In a comfortable looking chair near a large fireplace, sat a grandfatherly looking man, whose welcoming smile was so wide that his eyes were almost crinkled closed. He put aside the panpipes he had been playing: the soft music the friends heard through the open door. A small fire in the large fireplace warmed the room. A big sleepy tabby cat on the old man’s lap, looked so content that the two friends thought they could hear it purring. “Come in. Come in, please. It’s not often I have the treat of meeting young mountain trekkers. My name is Mennoc, and this is my dear old companion, Pouncer. She is exceptional at keeping mice away from the cabin, and equally clever at getting her own dinner, while she’s at it,” Mennoc chuckled. The two friends introduced themselves, still politely standing near the door. Mennoc smiled and urged them to come in and sit down. Pointing to a sturdy, low wooden bench near the door, he invited them to sit and visit for just a little while. Even Pouncer seemed to blink a welcome. It wasn’t long before Belle and Toby were at ease, taking turns telling Mennoc about their favorite treks in the hills each summer. Clearly, Mennoc thoroughly enjoyed meeting the two friends, following their every word, nodding his head as the friends cheerfully chattered away. They counted off the familiar trails they hiked this summer and eagerly described the new area they hoped to explore. Suddenly, Toby noticed something strange: something absolutely impossibly weird in the corner of the cabin. His eyes were locked in a stare, a wide-open, stunned-looking stare. Never before had he ever seen such a thing. A key, an impossibly huge key, almost as big as the entire corner of the cabin near the

brick fireplace, was tightly wedged into the space, floor to ceiling. “Could it really be a key?” he asked himself doubtfully. “Maybe it’s just some local carving made to look like a key.” Mennoc noticed Toby staring, and tilting his head toward the boy, asked with a soft voice: “You see the Key don’t you? Oh, beyond doubt, it’s odd enough to make anyone stare, especially seeing a huge Key like that in this small cabin.” Then leaning back in his chair, Mennoc continued. “Yes, there’s a lot of mystery in that Key: mystery, plus a long, and unusual history. If you have time, I do hope you can stay just a bit longer to hear its story, even if you do find it sad. Oh, it’s not all sad, but there are sad parts connected to that Key.” Eager to hear about the Key, Toby and Belle quickly said: “Sure.” But they gave each other a puzzled, eyebrow-raised look, as if to ask, “What could possibly be sad about a Key?” So, as the friends munched on their snack bars, after first politely offering one to their host, Mennoc began his story. “Ages and ages ago, this immense mountain meadow and valley were said to be full of enchantment.” At the mention of Magic, Belle and Toby traded looks, clearly showing surprise and more than a bit of their skepticism. “Yes, truly,” said Mennoc noticing their expressions. “In fact, this entire area was said to be a place of strong magic: powerful, some warned dangerous magic. “When I first heard about it, I was only a young lad, and I didn’t believe it, not a bit of it. And from the looks on your faces, I can tell, you probably think much the same. After all, I thought, magic was from the olden-days, our times were different. We were proud of working hard, making a good place in these hills for ourselves. “We didn’t need or want spooky wizards or witches trying to control us with spells and charms. But that was before I came across the Key. Now I fully believe there is Magic: good Magic and bad Magic, to be sure, yet without doubt there is Magic.” Turning and tilting his head toward the Key in the corner, Mennoc sighed, “And

although that immense Key you see there doesn’t seem to be magic, and I surely can’t explain how or why, one thing I do know, without a drop of doubt, I know that Key is magical.” “How can you be so sure? How did you find out?” asked Belle. “Did something scary or spooky happen?” “Actually, it was quite by accident,” Mennoc said smiling at the memory, “that I realized the Key had magic. But let me start from the beginning. I was just a small lad when I found the Key. To me it looked no different than any other plain, ordinary house Key. I was walking in that far meadow just beyond the fir tree grove,” he said pointing to the stand of trees not far from the cabin. “Walking on the path, just day-dreaming really, I was in no hurry, kicking a stone along in front of me, as I often did at that age. Then the stone hit something, making a ping sound. Looking down, to pick-up the stone, I saw a Key, almost hidden in the ground near the edge of the path. And as I said earlier, it looked like an ordinary Key, no different from other keys. Yet having a Key of my own made me somehow feel grown-up, so I always kept it in my pocket, as a sort of good-luck charm, I suppose. “Indeed, the Key did turn out to be good luck, but not in any way I had ever heard tell, either before or since. And it was years before the Key revealed its power to me.” “Wait. Wait.” said Toby. “Let me get this straight. You mean the Key knew it had power? And somehow let you know?” “Well, Yes and No.” Mennoc laughed. “Let me tell you how it happened. Time ed. I was growing-up, almost a young man, much taller and stronger, my voice deeper, when one day I noticed the Key felt warm and a bit heavier in my pocket.” “Had something happened? Did it look different?” asked Belle. “ What did you think was going on?” “Well, I surely was curious about it. Indeed, I asked myself, those very questions. What had changed? It looked exactly the same as ever, when I examined it. Yet, it did feel different, heavier, and it certainly felt warmer. Clearly, something had changed. Then, vaguely, the memory of old tales about

magic in this meadow came to mind. I wondered, asking myself, ‘Could this Key, now suddenly warmer and a bit heavier, could this Key have magic?’ “On a whim, chuckling as if playing a game, I spoke out loud to myself. ‘Well, if this is a magic Key, I can find out by wishing for something. Yes. Some water. I’d like a jug of cool water to quench my thirst.’ In a blink, instantly, without a sound, there on the ground was a small jug of water, cool and fresh.” “WOW! Just like that!” shouted out the friends in surprise, wide-eyed, laughing. “I would have jumped out of my skin,” laughed Belle with a mock shiver. “Yes. Just like that!” said Mennoc, snapping his fingers and chuckling at the memory. “I was so excited I could hardly run home fast enough to tell my family. I still how I felt. At first, everyone laughed at my story, but not for long. “Soon, with the Key’s magic I was able to give my family and friends things….things they needed. No one laughed or doubted now. Everyone agreed: the Key was magic. And though folks had heard talk of magic before, no one had ever actually seen such a thing. We really found it hard to believe there truly was such a thing as a ‘Wishing Key,’ as everyone called it.” “Awesome.” cheered Belle. “Magic! Out-of-the-blue, knock-me-down Magic. Wow.” “It’s really hard to believe…totally weird. Even just hearing about it, seems spooky,” said Toby, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can only imagine how freaky it must have been for everyone.” “So what happened next? Did the Key run out of magic?” asked Belle eagerly. “Well,” the old man smiled, enjoying his avidly curious audience, “oddly enough, the Wishing Key itself changed. With each wish the Key became a bit heavier and warmer. Before long, the Key was so big and heavy I couldn’t carry it, had to push it along in a cart. “Everyone helped, of course, but soon I couldn’t even carry the heavy Key in a cart. And the Key became so hot when I made a wish, that I had to wear thick black-smith gloves to hold it.”

“Weren’t you afraid someone would steal the Key,” asked Belle. “Interesting that you ask, because someone did try. But it was nothing really, just a prank, more of a joke than anything else. On a dare, one of my friends did take the Wishing Key, but the magic didn’t work for him. What a revelation that was! Clearly, the magic of the Key was somehow linked to me. There seemed to be a bond of some kind between us, a mysterious, powerful bond that actually began to trouble me. I wondered if I would ever be free. It seemed there was a price, so to speak, to using the Key.” “Whoa. Now that IS scary!” Toby moaned out loud. “But if you believe in magic, I guess you never know what’s next.” “Yes, scary and frankly just the beginning,” Mennoc agreed. “Because in a way, the Key began to rule my life. And while everyone was grateful and helped in everyway, I alone had to endure the burning heat of the Key’s magic. And each time I made a wish, I had to be more and more cautious not to burn myself. The dangers of using the Key surely were the price of its magic. At first, I worried that folks would be envious of my having the Key. But once they saw the Key’s burning heat, they only did their best to help me.” “Now I can see why you said there was something sad about the Key,” Belle sympathized. “But did you have to carry it? Did it only work if it was near you?” she asked, as always, eager to know how something worked. “Yes. That’s right, and that’s one of the sad parts I mentioned. Having to keep the Key near me to grant wishes is how it came to dominate my life. As you can see, it’s so heavy now, it’s crushed through the floor in that corner, and it’s so tall, it’s pushing out the sturdy walls and roof of my little cabin. Yet, as immense and powerful as it is, lately I’ve noticed for the first time, that the Key is cold. Perhaps its magic and its heat is used up or has leaked away.” “That is so strange. I wonder what it means? Maybe the key is less powerful now.” Toby mused. Belle wanted to go over and touch the Key, but didn’t want to interrupt Mennoc’s story. “Well, let me finish: my story is almost over. After many, many wishes were granted to family and friends, everyone in our tiny village agreed that it’s really

not good at all for people to simply have everything they need by wishing. Just imagine how quickly everyone might forget how to farm or take care of animals. What would happen if we lost all our knowing ways?” As Mennoc listed some problems that would follow if people simply wished for things, the two friends began to imagine what would happen in their lives. Belle looked at her favorite hiking boots with new appreciation. “Since wishing seemed so easy,” Mennoc continued, “why try to learn anything?” Then he stopped, seeing that his young friends were lost in thought, as indeed they were. With puzzled faces, they were trying to fathom: what would happen in such a world, where suddenly solving a problem or learning something new simply stopped? “But, you two don’t need me to list these things. I’m sure you understand what I mean. So,” Mennoc continued, “with the of the entire village, from that time on, I used the Wishing Key only to help people in pain. And although the magic of the Wishing Key is powerful beyond imagining, it cannot slow aging or stop death. “A very wise woman in our village told me, she thought the magic of the Key awakened as I grew old enough to use it wisely, mindfully. I think she was right. And I have always tried to use the Wishing Key honestly and thoughtfully.” “That really sounds right, and smart,” Nodding, Toby agreed. “The Key wasn’t just magical, it seemed to sense your maturity, Mennoc, before it showed you its gift. Makes me wonder if its power is a special, a unique kind of magic?” “Well,” Belle pointed out, “Mennoc did say he thinks there’s both good and bad magic. We don’t seem to hear about good magic, pretty much always hear about the bad kind.” “Yes, my young friends. The Key does seem to contain good magic. And while all the villagers are helpful, still there is a problem for me. I can no longer leave my cabin. The Key’s magic has bound me to it. Exactly how, I do not understand, nor can I explain it, but I am bound here as surely as if I were chained.”

Now looking at one another seriously, the NQCs perfectly understood what Mennoc meant when he said there was a sad part to the story of the Key. “Everyone in the village is very good to me, never failing to bring everything I need. And I do cherish my quiet cabin here. Nevertheless, as you can imagine, I miss my freedom most of all.” Here Mennoc seemed to retreat into his memory, his voice became soft and wistful as if he were longingly picturing his past. “I miss walking the forest trails, breathing the sweet smell of new turned earth while planting my garden rows. I long to see the towering ranges, the soft slateblue colors of the mountains in the distance beyond the peaks. Especially, I miss the sight of all the woodland creatures. From your eager words about your treks, I know you both completely understand. Think of all you would miss if you could not wander in these hills ever again?” Here the kindly old man sighed deeply, and the two friends saw a deep sadness cross his face like a shadow. Looking at each other, nodding and conferring only briefly, they made a decision.

Chapter 3

M ENNOC’S WORDS REMINDED THE TWO friends of their own troublesome problem: their future at the lodge. Indeed, he asked the question so simply, “What if they couldn’t wander these hills ever again?” Yet, determined not to mire down in those doom and gloom worries, they shook off that “don’tgo-there” subject. Instead, focusing on helping Mennoc, their thoughts drifted back to the bog in the meadow. And they found themselves asking an entirely new question. “Might they too have stumbled on a bit of magic?” Wishing to help Mennoc feel better, the friends decided to show him the little key Belle found. Now with ‘I’ve-got-a-secret’ looks on their faces, they took out the half-keys from their shirt pockets, and showed them to Mennoc. As the two quickly told about finding the tiny key, Mennoc leaned forward in his chair listening intently to their story. Slowly nodding as Toby and Belle described each step before finding the Key, the old man seemed to be memorizing their each and every word. With an intense look in his eyes, he carefully asked the two friends where exactly in the meadow they had found the tiny key. After they had answered all his questions, Mennoc leaned back in his chair, saying that as a young lad, he had often heard tales of magic keys. And after he found The Wishing Key, he heard that many people searched the same meadow, but no one ever found another key. Pointing to the little key halves, the old man said, “If they are magic, and it is quite possible they are since you found them where you did. Making a wish is certainly one way to find out.” The two burst out laughing, but quickly stopped. “Sorry to laugh, Mennoc, please excuse us,” Toby apologized sincerely. “It’s just ….umm ……Well, I’m afraid we really don’t believe in magic, not at all.” Belle quickly added, “We didn’t mean to make fun of you, Mennoc. We can see

why you believe in magic. It’s just that we really don’t, never have.” Now it was Mennoc’s turn to laugh a bit. Softly laughing, he said “ Yes, I feeling very much the same way when I was your age. I fully understand. Please, you don’t have to apologize.” Then Toby said, “Hey, Belle. I’ve got an idea. Let’s call it an experiment. And in the spirit of a fun experiment, let’s make a wish.” Now satisfied, the friends were ready to make a wish. Mennoc gave directions. “First, each of you wish for something simple as you hold your half of the Key.” Toby wished for water. Belle laughed, and wished for lemonade, fresh lemonade. NOTHING HAPPENED. “Maybe it will work if we wish for the same thing,” suggested Toby. So this time holding their half of the Key, they both wished for the same thing. Again: NOTHING HAPPENED. “Let’s try this,” Belle suggested, “let’s wish for the same thing while we fit the Key parts together.” As they followed this method, the Key halves now ed became surprisingly warm, almost a bit hot to hold as they made their wish. Suddenly without a whisper of a sound, they all saw a small jug of water in front of them. “All Right!” the friends cheered, slapping high-fives. “Wow! There’s Magic in this Key, too. We’d never have guessed that, Mennoc, not in a million years. Maybe we’ll have to adjust our scientific attitude to include a bit of mountain magic.” Toby said, laughing out loud and nudging Belle. Yet, now looking from the jug to the Key, they instantly saw how little the Key parts had become. The key halves were now so tiny, it was hard to tell if the parts had ever been a Key at all. Perhaps with the next wish, the tiny Key and its magic would disappear forever. Not waiting even a moment, Belle asked Mennoc if they could make a wish for him. “We’d like to make a wish that your Wishing Key would disappear, or maybe just shrink a little. Mostly” Belle explained, “we’d like to set you free,

Mennoc, to release you from the control of that enormous Wishing Key.” Listening to Belle as she told Mennoc her wish to make the big Wishing Key disappear, Toby thought: “That’s just like Belle, putting herself in someone else’s shoes, trying to fix things.” Smiling his funny half-grin, Toby mused to himself, “But that’s not all! Oh no, she simply can’t stand to waste anything, even if there’s only a breath of magic left in that tiny Key.” The old man smiled kindly at Belle, shaking his head sadly. “Thank you, Belle. It’s more than kind of you, of you both. But I sincerely doubt your tiny Key could conger up magic powerful enough to change the Wishing Key. Even so,” he said, studying the immense Key. “It is worth a try or should I say, another fun experiment. Yes?” He winked at the friends. “And of course,” he continued, “even a smaller Wishing Key would be so much better than that gigantic one that’s damaging my cabin timbers and cracking everything around it.” So, fitting the key parts together, holding their hands in the jug of cool water hoping their fingers wouldn’t burn as the Key heated up, with eyes closed, the young friends sincerely wished The Wishing Key to disappear. The water in the jug bubbled and steamed from the heat of the Key parts the NQCs held. The cabin began to tremble, seemed to shudder and tilt, making loud splitting noises as cracks opened along the seams between the thick log walls where the Wishing Key was wedged. In a blink Pouncer reacted. Even before a single sound or the first hint of tremors and quake-like vibrations started to rock the ground, she dashed out of the cabin door. Quick. Quick as a flash she raced away into the woods beyond the meadow, completely out of sight. Everything in the cabin now seemed to be swaying side to side. The ground all around felt as if it had come loose under the cabin, shifting and shaking. Low rumbling sounds seemed to come from deep inside the earth. Where the back of the cabin rested against the stone bluff, the massive wall of stone itself seemed to groan as the cliff seemed to heave and shudder. As the cabin rocked, the bench where the youngsters had been sitting wobbled backward. They lost their balance and tumbled onto the floor. Once the cabin stopped shaking, and they stopped feeling dizzy the friends quickly scrambled to their feet and looked around. Blinking, almost doubting their eyes they saw the

giant Wishing Key was gone. Only the deep bent grooves in the cabin floor and the pushed-out corner of the ceiling showed where the Key had wedged itself. The entire corner of the cabin, walls and ceiling showed the deep splits, cracks, and dents made by the Key’s size and weight. Yet, as huge as the Wishing Key had been, it was completely gone at last. Gone too were the tiny Key halves they had held, only thin pink marks were left on their fingers where the Key parts had scorched them a bit. Very slowly, as if in a dream, Mennoc tried to stand. Trembling, hesitating and holding on to the arm of his chair, he carefully stood and inch by inch with shuffling, wobbly, unsteady steps walked to the open door, and out into the warm sunlight. Tears of gratitude and relief filled his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. His eyes were almost closed by the expression on his face, half-crying, halfsmiling, his happy, elated look was one of complete astonishment. “Thank you, my young friends. Thank you. With all my heart, I thank you.” After a long while, as he looked at the open fields and hills that he hadn’t seen for so long, he paused suddenly as if in deep thought. “I don’t quite know how to say thank you. You must have a gift of some kind. Please find time to come again for a visit. I know I can think of something special to give you, something you will enjoy. So please promise to visit me again.” Mennoc waved as he said good-bye again, after urging the two friends to return. Then he turned as if still unsure he was awake, and continued to walk ever so slowly toward the view of the distant hills.

ξ

Suddenly, Toby and Belle seemed to wake up as if from a deep sleep. Seeing the sun lower in the sky, they guessed they must have fallen asleep in the meadow after their snack, and very early start this morning. They stretched and yawned, as if they had been asleep for a while. Eagerly, they began to tell one another about a strange, very vivid, yet weird

dream they had. Oddly, each one seemed to already know the exact details of the other’s dream, and they could finish each other’s sentences about what happened. “What a strange, funny dream…a huge magic Key that could grant wishes.” “Yeah, a Key as big as a brick fireplace and chimney. That’s magic all right.” They laughed. Eager now to share their adventure at dinner, they set off at a run for home. Suddenly, as they shifted their backpacks into place, each one noticed the marks on their fingers where they had held the Key together: marks in the shape of a tiny Key.

Chapter 4

A FTER DINNER THAT NIGHT, THEIR parents listened with rapt attention as Belle and Toby told their story. Pelting rain and distant thunder created a fitting background to their chilling, mysterious adventure. When they had described every detail of the story, putting every piece in place like a big picture puzzle, Anna and Louisa began to recall events they had never mentioned to the family. Trivial events, or so they seemed at the time, that now seemed to back up the story they had just heard from Toby and Belle. “When we first arrived, I heard lots of stories about ‘magic this and magic that’ around here,” said Anna. “But I haven’t heard a word about anything like that for years. And since I only heard such stories when I was buying groceries or supplies in the village, I always thought it was nothing more than ‘local color’ to amuse the new arrivals.” “Yes, I heard some of that, too, Anna,” said Louisa. “I kept it to myself, as well, thinking that if I repeated it, I’d just be reinforcing a backward image of the villagers as superstitious hill-folks. “But, tell you what. Let’s all go to that meadow you marked on your map, bring a big picnic, and see if we can find the old man, or his cabin. He sounds sensible, and maybe he can tell us more. Honestly, I’d really like to know more about those magical Keys.” “Good idea, Louisa.” said T.J. “And to wrap-up, there’s no way that you two dreamed up all this about a gigantic Key and little half Keys. It’s odd, all right, but it all rings true, and frankly, I’d like to meet Mennoc, and get his take on things. Magic Keys or not.” Everyone quickly agreed. OK! They had a plan. Now perhaps when they met Mennoc, they could ask him to fill in some of the blanks. That settled that. Then with a clap of his hands, Alden announced, “OK, weary trekkers, off you go to your rooms now. Get some sleep. Scoot! And as soon as we get a clear day,

we’ll have that picnic, and try to get to the bottom of all this.”

ξ

The next few days brought more rain and thundershowers. And although Toby and Belle were eager to return and explore the cabin, it was a rare treat to watch the lightning zigzag across the blue-black rain clouds. With every flash, without really thinking, they would almost hold their breath until the thunder cracked and boomed. Then came the echoes of thunder rumbling as if it were rolling back and forth across the peaks. Yet, despite the distraction of the storm, the two friends felt as restless as the swift moving clouds. For once, Toby didn’t have a joke to cover his urge to solve this riddle. And Belle, as always, simply gave herself a bit of a pep talk. “When there’s something to see, we’ll see it. When we find Mennoc, he’ll tell us more. One step at a time. ‘Bean by Bean We Fill The Sack,’ as Miss Jennings always says.” Finally, the weather cleared, bringing a bright sunny morning. The parents, each carrying a picnic basket or blankets to spread for their picnic, tried to keep pace as Belle and Toby ran ahead. The two friends swiftly re-traced their path to the ‘Stone Table Meadow’. “Let’s check out things again before our picnic,” Toby urged. “Let’s go,” Belle laughed. “I can’t wait to see it all again. Besides, I’d never be able to sit still right now and enjoy our picnic.” As the two friends raced ahead, their parents recognized the “Stone Tables Meadow” and the big stone bluff where they expected to see the cabin. BUT NOTHING WAS THERE! What a crushing disappointment. Not a thing was there: no cabin, no painted door. NOTHING. Only two things remained to mark the cabin spot: a wide, foot-polished halfburied threshold stone where the door had been, and some remains of the big fireplace and heavy broken chunks and huge pieces of what had been the

chimney. When their parents ed them, Toby and Belle described exactly how they ed the cabin inside: the books, the braided rug, even the comfy chair where Mennoc sat with Pouncer on his lap. They even mentioned the plants in the clay pots on the one tiny window sill of the cabin, and the low bench where they sat listening to Mennoc’s story about the Key. Now the only remains were parts of the huge fireplace and broken pieces of the brick chimney. Yet, even those looked old and crumbling. “Could this really be the neat fireplace and chimney they ed?” What they now saw looked no different than the crumbling ruins of some long abandoned house site, ages and ages old. Everyone felt at a complete loss. Almost nothing was here. Could this be the right place? Where did it all go? There simply wasn’t much to see, surely nothing to explore. Trying to cheer up the kids, Anna, said: “Let’s just look around a bit more, maybe the old man will return…and over there,” she pointed “those ruts. Don’t they look like tracks of some kind?” No longer looking forward to the picnic, everyone walked around aimlessly, feeling let down and about ready to give up, when Belle saw some crushed flower petals in the grass near the tracks. “Petals from the little plants on the window sill,” she shouted for everyone to see, waving them high as if she held a trophy. “OK! That settles it,” said Alden. “The cabin was here, just like you said. It was real, even if almost all of it’s gone now. Nothing we can do about that. But we can go over to the village tomorrow and ask around, maybe even find out if there’s another village nearby.” “Good idea,” ed in T.J. “But let’s go enjoy that picnic now before some magical ants suddenly appear and manage to carry it all off.” “That’s my Dad,” laughed Belle over her shoulder to T.J. “Always keeping his mind on the really important things: LUNCH!”

Yet, over the next few days, the promising attempts to find Mennoc came up empty, as empty as the spot where his cabin once stood. Even after two or three visits to the village and asking around, they learned nothing more about the kindly old man or his cabin. No answers: just blank looks and shrugs from the villagers. Feeling deeply frustrated, the friends decided to go back for one final visit to the place where the cabin had been. Of course, a big part of wanting to return was their hope of finding Mennoc, and at least being able to say a real goodbye to him. Without being willing to voice it, they knew they were not likely to see him again. And although they kept it to themselves, they each felt somehow diminished and unsettled at finding hardly a trace of the cabin: as if their story weren’t true, as if it were all a hoax. Even Toby was silent, without even a hint of a joke to shakeoff their down-in-the-dumps mood. Hurrying now along the trail, it wasn’t long before they arrived at the “Stone Table Meadow.” Gloomily, they sat on the sun warmed granite slabs, not saying a word. Everything seemed dulled by their grumpy mood, as if their low spirits robbed even the wildflower meadow of its colorful glory. “As if is wasn’t bad enough,” Belle said “to hear all the sad news about ‘the blabla-bla’ subject. Now, even Mennoc and the magic Keys have disappeared. What a let-down.”

Chapter 5

T HEN, THEY HEARD THE PANPIPES. And there was Mennoc smiling and waving at them, sitting on a tree stump in the shade not far from where his cabin once stood. With a loud “Wow!” they ran shouting greetings, even before reaching him, their bottled-up questions spilling out as fast as they could shout: “Mennoc! Mennoc, at last.” “You’re here! You’re back” “Mennoc, are you all right? You and Pouncer?” “Where did everything go? Nothing’s here. What on earth happened?” “Are you sure you’re all right?” “Where is everything? Where are you living now?” “Our folks wanted to meet you. You weren’t here, nothing was. It was awful.” “Is everything really all right? What really happened?” Mennoc laughed, and said over and over, “Yes, yes, everything is fine. Sit down. Please, sit down. I’m glad to see you, too,” he chuckled. Then, without another word or interruption he told his young friends about his return to his own village, where he lived as a lad when he found the Wishing Key. His smile widened as he told Belle and Toby how pleased he is to be in his old village and near his old friends, and what a warm welcome he enjoyed. The villagers helped move everything. “I’m back home”, he said with his big grin. “And yes, Pouncer, is with me, very content chasing a new set of mice from our tiny cottage in the village. But she was so thoroughly spooked by the tremors at the cabin, it took days for her to return from the woods and find me.” When all their questions had been answered, Mennoc smiled, saying in a more

than usual cheerful voice. “I have a gift for you, my young friends. I spoke with the villagers, and they agreed that I could share some ancient legends with you, since you set me free from the bondage of the Wishing Key. Young and old in the village all know my stories by heart. And now, for me and my endless yarns,” he said playfully, “I will happily enjoy having a new audience, the two of you.” Sitting quietly, Belle and Toby felt a bit as if their heads were spinning after all that had happened in the last few minutes. They felt touched by Mennoc’s wish to share his trove of stories with them. With a gesture that seemed just right, Toby stood up very straight, then bowed slightly and swept his arm wide saying quite formally: “The pleasure is all ours, Maestro.” “Yes, Yes,” called Belle, clapping softly, “More stories, more legends.” As she watched Toby, Belle mused to herself “Just like T., to make a funny pretend-formal gesture of thanks, yet all the while being totally, sincerely grateful.” Slowly, Mennoc took from his pocket a beautiful, glistening Glass Key, its exact color was that of a serene, deep pool of water: brilliant sparkling turquoise blue. “What a beautiful color, Mennoc, it almost looks as if it’s made of ice,” said Belle. “But won’t a Glass Key break?” “Ah, Belle, this is no ordinary Key, as well you might have guessed. And, you are certainly right to ask if it can break. However, only very special circumstances can shatter it. Conditions, frankly, that I hope you will never witness. But more about that later, if you can wait. “Now, first,” continued Mennoc, “we must outline some plans with your parents, and if they consent, the three of us will enter a Story-Travel Time for some days. “When we return, the villagers want to thank you both for releasing me from the bond of the Wishing Key. They invite you and your parents to attend a colorful festival. When we return from our Story-Travel Time, all of us will meet in my village for the little celebration. Would you like to me in Story-Travel for a few days?” “Oh, Yes, of course. When do we start?”

“But what is ‘Story-Travel’? I’ve never heard of it before. Do we need to bring things?” Belle and Toby took turns asking questions, and once satisfied eagerly accepted Mennoc’s invitation, and thanked him for planning it all. All was quickly arranged with their parents, who were delighted to finally meet the kindly old gentleman. In fact, they were more than pleased to know that this last summer was clearly developing into a memorable one for the kids, despite the cloud over their heads about what the future might hold for all of them.

Late the very next afternoon, the three set off together. Just beyond the “Stone Table Meadow,” they headed toward a large well, not far from where Mennoc’s small cabin had been. He explained that the well was the age into the StoryTravel world. As they approached the well, Mennoc asked Belle to keep The Glass Key, originally the Key to his old cabin. ing the Key to Belle, Mennoc told her how his mother always regarded the key to a home as an emblem of hospitality: a symbol of the ‘House Guardian Spirit’, who is always a woman. “I’m honored, Mennoc,” smiled Belle with genuine pleasure. “I promise, I’ll take very good care of The Glass Key.” At the well, Mennoc seemed to hesitate as they all leaned over the edge. He looked puzzled, his brow wrinkled, saying he ed hearing long ago that the caves and the well were connected in some way, but now he didn’t exactly how. Yet, clearly their first task was to find their way down into the caves. Encircled by a wide ring of stone, this was surely the largest well the youngsters had ever seen. The deep well shaft itself had been filled with rubble, to prevent anyone falling inside. Yet, the thick weeds growing in the rubble, clearly indicated how long ago the well had been sealed. Trying their best to show some interest in the well, the two friends nevertheless felt that the well was a somewhat curious but rather ordinary place to begin their Story-Travels. “Is this the only way in?” Toby asked, scratching his head in puzzlement. “That’s

some massive pile of stuff in there. And even with help, it would take days to haul out the tons of stone and rock that must be in there.” Belle, still carrying The Glass Key in her hand, pointed at all the rock and stone rubble, agreed that perhaps they should look for an easier way to enter the caves. Instantly, as she pointed, the stones and rocks noisily began to shift and tumble into distinct patterns, forming a steep but quite able set of steps down into the deep well shaft. “Yikes! What’s going on?” cried Belle alarmed, as the heavy stones suddenly shifted into steps. “What did I do? What’s happening?” At once leading the way, Mennoc warned them to watch their step on the steep steps, but now he stopped, looking abashed. Tapping his forehead as if he suddenly ed something important he wanted to say. “Oh, Belle, please forgive me, I forgot to tell you… The Glass Key contains a bit of magic.” “Ha! You call that a ‘Bit Of Magic’, do you Mennoc?” Toby laughed. “Belle, you’d better be careful where you point that key, or who knows what might happen next?” Toby was still teasing Belle about the magic in The Glass Key, as they slowly descended the steep steps. Reaching the bottom step of the well, they found themselves in a wide age opening into a cave. Instantly, the steps behind them fell into rubble again, completely blocking the well. Now blocked too, was the dim light from the well steps. Immediately, they were engulfed in utter darkness: the absolute darkness that exists only in an underground cave.

Chapter 6

I N A CALM VOICE, MENNOC told Belle to point The Glass Key a little above her head and straight in front of where they stood. As Belle followed his directions, a thin shaft of light appeared ahead of them. As they walked toward the light, it grew brighter, reflected now in a mirror-like pool of water. The pool appeared to be part of a stream, an underground stream flowing without a ripple down the center of the chamber they had entered. Its unearthly, silent beauty was unlike anything they had ever seen. The very stillness of the cave commanded their attention. At first, the impenetrable darkness had dominated their senses, as if they had suddenly lost sight altogether. The absolute absence of light instantly created a feeling of pure helplessness, utter disorientation. So when Belle pointed the Glass Key, and the light cast its welcome gleam, each one felt immense relief. Gradually, other features of the cave drew their attention. Then they became acutely aware of the cave air: as still as a stone, the cold, ancient air seemed to press on them, to touch them. Yet it wasn’t the air alone, it was the spooky feeling that in this place they were somehow losing with their senses. First, there was no light at all, then they became aware of the cave air: air without a trace of scent. And now the silence of the cave seemed to embrace them, they could feel it weigh on them. What was happening? Overwhelmingly the friends felt estranged, bewildered, as if suddenly out of touch with the outside world, feeling somehow lost and on their own. Walking very cautiously in the chamber, even their tentative footsteps made no sound, being totally muffled by the deep sand on the cave floor. Becoming aware of the sound of their breathing, they whispered in hushed voices. With each step, the friends felt as if they had entered a profoundly mysterious other world. Indeed, they had. Mennoc’s soft, familiar voice seemed to break the spell of the cave. “Time to catch our breath,” he said, sitting down on a wide rocky shelf along one side of the big chamber. “Now that we have found our way into this part of the cave, our

Story-Travels begin. It’s a good moment to go over a few important rules: rules that I want you to know and follow faithfully.” Yet, as they ed Mennoc on the ledge, the two friends found that as much as they tried they couldn’t fully concentrate on Mennoc’s words. Despite the low light, the walls sparkled and glowed from the crystal sediments that formed them. The cave appeared to be a splendid dreamland. They felt mesmerized, glad to sit for a while and simply stare at their surroundings, feeling more than a bit overwhelmed by it all. Then, Mennoc’s solemn tone quickly drew their attention to his serious words. “First, I am your Guardian-Guide here. You are safe and in no danger as long as you stay in my Circle of Protection. I will not leave you or abandon you. However, you must help one another stay in my Circle of Protection. That is essential. “Second,” Mennoc continued, “ within my Circle you will be invisible to each and every animal, every plant and person in our Story-Travels. But if you attempt to enter into the story you witness, my Circle of Protection will be broken, and you will be at grave risk.” The two friends now looked guardedly at each other, wide-eyed as they listened to Mennoc. Seeds of doubt began to grow. What was in store for them during this Story-Travel? Uneasily, they began to wonder if perhaps they really shouldn’t have agreed so quickly. But they didn’t voice their feelings, at least, not yet. “Surely, I need not remind you,” Mennoc continued, “of the over-powering magic that the Keys hold. Even the tiny Key contained immense magic. Fortunately until now, the magic you’ve witnessed has been benign, kindly magic. Nevertheless we have now entered the long Past Time of our StoryTravel, and dark forces will often swirl around us. “I am compelled to warn you: be on guard. It will be difficult for you to witness cruel things happening to ordinary people. But, let me assure you, not everything you see will be wicked. “To help you keep your distance, please : this is a story, a real story from long, long ago. You cannot change any event, as much as you may wish to

help.” Here Mennoc, looked into Belle’s eyes saying, “I know how deeply you both love fairness, but please, do not risk your safety by entering into the story.” The two friends were now wild-eyed, filled with dread, on hearing Mennoc’s sober warning. They had no idea that this Story-Travel might be risky or dangerous. Maybe they shouldn’t have agreed to come: was it too late to change their minds? They began looking over their shoulders and behind them, as if already something frightening lurked there. “, I am your Guardian Guide, I will not let evil magic touch you, ever. You will see many marvels, and will learn brave things about yourselves and others. Do not be afraid. The hours we spend here, you will forever. You will want to cheer, when simple ideas solve complex problems. You will see how bravery and courage can achieve noble, unselfish goals. My young friends, I promise, you will cherish our Story-Travel time. Have no regrets.” The two friends tried to smile, but frankly they felt totally creeped-out, plainly spooked, by everything Mennoc was telling them. Then, trying to shake-off her fear, Belle broke their silence. With a glance at Toby, she said, “Well, as our dads always say, ‘Let’s hope’ and Toby ed in, ‘this will be ‘TIME WELL SPENT.’” Trying their best to be game for whatever might come next, the two friends now began to understand that this adventure might possibly test them in ways they had never known ‘til now. Toby winked at Belle when he saw her tepid smile, and Signed to her “We’re in this together, pal. But just think! What a story we’ll have to tell when we get back.” “Thanks, T.” Belle sighed while g: “I needed that. Feeling better already.”

Chapter 7

L ET’S START OUR STORY-TRAVEL RIGHT here.” Mennoc began. “All around us here are signs from the Past: signs left by those who were enslaved in these caves so long ago.” The signs couldn’t be missed: clear footprints marked the sandy banks on both sides of the quiet stream. In fact, prints of bare-feet seemed to be everywhere in the sand, most small, as if made by kids. Mixed at random with the kids’ footprints were animal paw-prints, some leaving deep claw marks in the sand, the kind you see made by big dogs on the wet sandy edge of a beach. Other tracks seemed to have been made by smaller animals. Mostly, however, the footprints looked like those left by kids’ bare-feet, with a few larger prints perhaps made by adults wearing shoes or boots. But the number of prints seemed endless: hundreds of prints ranged along both edges of the stream, some in regular path-like patterns, others seemed totally random. Toby and Belle wondered if they had to solve this riddle as a test of some kind. If so, such a task would take a long time. “Who lived here?” asked Toby, hunching down to look closely at the footprints. “There must be hundreds of prints here. Some look like prints made by shoes or boots, but mostly the footprints look like kids’, along with lots of animal tracks.” “It looks” Belle said, “as if lots of the kids’ prints go back and forth over and over. And how did animals get inside the cave? There must be an opening or entrance we can’t see from here.” “Well Hey! OK! That’s one thing we know for sure.” Toby piped up. “Not everyone came down here on the steps in the well the way we did,” both friends laughed, relieved to put aside their jumpy jitters for a while. “I can see that the two of you will be very good companions on this adventure,” Mennoc said easily. “Already your observations and questions are leading to a central part of our Story-Travel.”

Finding a more comfortable spot, Mennoc shifted his place on the ledge and continued. His two young friends sat in the sand leaning against the rocky ledge munching energy bars from their backpacks. “Some back-ground will help you understand the Story we’re going to witness, so make yourselves comfortable. And I’m glad to see you’re having a snack. “I’ll begin our story with Enon when he was a lad, a young teen about your own age. He was the only son of the village chieftain, Darkoden and his wife, Ania, who both very much wanted a son when he was born. “A few years earlier, Neras, a beautiful baby daughter, had been born to them. Yet hers was a cruel Fate: stolen as a newborn, Ania and Darkoden feared they would never see her again. This was a profoundly painful memory for both parents, but especially for Ania. “Now, Darkoden was not an evil man, nor was he stupid. Yet, after he became head of the village, having with The Wizard, Fleeog everyday, Darkoden slowly began to change. The role of Chieftain being entirely new to him, he soon became dependent on Fleeog for advice and counsel. In addition to having a somewhat suspicious nature, Darkoden now thoroughly believed every dark conspiracy Fleeog invented about the villagers. Even more wary now that he was Chieftain, Darkoden was gripped by the fear that his power and position would be taken from him. Told over and over by Fleeog of secret plots and sinister plans in the village, Darkoden became deeply mistrustful of almost everyone. Ania and Darkoden’s life-long friends felt dismayed by the changes they witnessed in him. “Before long, Darkoden consulted Fleeog about every matter no matter how trivial. All the while hoping that the many charms he wore would fend off the plots, curses, and evil spells he had come to dread. After all, he often reminded Ania, if she had worn the charms The Wizard gave her to protect their daughter, their child would never have been stolen.” “Oh, that’s rich,” blurted out Toby, outraged… flinging his arms in the air. “Blame his wife when their baby was stolen…. and where was Mister-SmartMouth-Know–It-All, when that happened?” Belle could only shake her head in proud agreement with Toby’s defense of Ania. Mennoc, too was pleased to note how deeply Toby and Belle were

engaged now in the Story-Travel, when only minutes ago they looked uncertain, even wary. “Well you might ask,” my young friend. “Not surprisingly, The Wizard relished his power over Darkoden, knowing just how deeply the Chieftain both feared yet truly believed in the world of diabolical magic. “To increase his power, The Wizard, Fleeog would often shape-shift into Fleea, his female guise. Shape-Shifting was both a cunning and useful device for The Wizard. In his male guise as Fleeog, The Wizard pretended to confide in Darkoden, man to man, to control him by flattery, all the while playing on his fears. In his female form as Fleea, The Wizard tried to drive a wedge between Ania and her husband. The Wizard wanted nothing less than full control of them both. “As a result of Fleeog’s influence, Darkoden urged his wife to be cordial to Fleea. It seemed a small favor to grant her husband, so Ania often agreed when Fleea sought out her company. In her pushy way Fleea tried to worm her way into Ania’s confidence, always proclaiming their close friendship, even though she knew it was not so. And more than once Fleea vaguely suggested that the powers of darkness would seek revenge if they are dismissed. “However, Ania remained guarded and reserved, all the while deeply regretting her efforts to please her husband by seeing Fleea. Without ever being unkind to Fleea, Ania remained attuned to her own feelings and bore no warmth or spirit of friendship toward Fleea. Aware of a feeling difficult to pinpoint, a sixth sense if you will, Ania strongly sensed Fleea’s undercurrent of deceit. Heeding her own feelings Ania accurately sensed that if provoked Fleea was capable of being malicious, thoroughly untrustworthy, and capable of doing her harm. So Ania kept her own counsel toward Fleea: polite, cautious, and totally aware. “Despite Darkoden’s fierce belief in magic, strong-hearted Ania confidently never felt subject to dark power. Sincerely, she believed that only a person who actually believes in the power of dark magic could come under its spell. Indeed, in Ania’s mind the first step in becoming a victim was to embrace such forces, thus giving the magic its power over you. “Perhaps, Ania did not realize that being fair-minded and honest is not always protection against someone who aims to hurt you. However, Ania confidently

and steadfastly refused to believe in the powers of darkness or to become its victim. “Fleea, of course, knew Ania’s views about magic and was doubly jealous. Clearly frustrated by being unable to control or threaten Ania with dark magic, Fleea despised Ania’a calm confidence and independence of mind.” At this moment for the first time, the beautiful turquoise Glass Key that Belle now wore around her neck on a cord, turned a dark muddy-red color: a sinister Red, its Color of Warning. No one saw the color change, since the Key was inside Belle’s jacket, yet The Glass Key flashed its dire warning nevertheless. Yes! Even when we fail to notice, things change. Beware! Before long The Glass Key will flash its Blood Red Warning: GRAVE DANGER, a signal all will see. “Well, what I don’t understand,” Belle asked quietly, with a thoughtfully puzzled frown, “is why anyone like Ania would have anything at all to do with someone like Fleea?” “Well, it is a world of dark magic,” Toby pointed out. “And it’s not as if a lot of folks had figured out that magic might be a trick, or knew other ways to explain things. And anyway, if you live in a place where all the people you know believe in magic, it’s just a part of your world, just something you take for granted, I guess. Sure Ania was on the right track, but she seems to be pretty much alone in the way she shrugged off magic. Besides, she was doing her husband a favor, ?” “You’re right,” sighed Mennoc, “there are deep mysteries and puzzles in these tales of long Past-Times. But perhaps the next events will help you understand more about what’s at work here. One night,” Mennoc continued, “Darkoden had a vivid dream about their child, whose birth was eagerly awaited. He dreamed the baby was a boy, born sickly and injured. “Even more disturbing, he dreamed that this child grew up to be more beloved by the villagers than himself. In his dream, the cruelest Fate of all was that as a grown man, the son killed his father and ruled in his place. “Darko, as he was known at home, awoke screaming in terror, soaked with sweat, gasping for breath, trembling so much he could hardly speak. Sobbing, he told Ania his horrible nightmare. Lovingly she did her best to comfort him, yet

he repeated over and over, that the child was a bad seed… that he hoped the child would die. “Ania calmly and reasonably said their child could not possibly be a bad seed, because after all, the child was his own. She reminded Darko repeatedly that he would be a proud, loving father to their beautiful child. Finally, after Ania’s many soft words and soothing ways, Darko was able to sleep. Yet now, Ania profoundly alarmed by his dream, his deep-seated fears and alarming words, dear Ania could find no rest. She wondered if the Chieftain’s role had somehow overburdened Darko, leading to such panic-stricken dreams and thoughts. She longed for their child to be born soon, so that Darko might step again into his role as the beloved father of his family: a place he once relished. “The next day, Darko told Fleea about the dream, how endearingly Ania had helped him. Fleea’s lip curled in a twisted sneer, saying Ania was only trying to fool her husband, that his dream was most surely a SIGN, a clear warning. Hotly she insisted that indeed, the child was a bad seed, not his child at all. She vowed to Darko, that she, herself, would see to it that the child would never grow up to overthrow him. Then so smoothly did she flatter Darko calling him a Great High Chieftian, born to rule all the villages, that her words distracted him from her vicious plan to do away with the child. “To Darko’s credit, this was the first time he suspected Fleea of trying to control him, to sway him against Ania. Yet, so pleased, so puffed-up by Fleea’s silky flattering words, so eager to believe in his own greatness, Darko pushed aside entirely any hint that Fleea might betray him. And the idea she might actually kill their child, that despicable thought he buried away completely.”

ξ

Mennoc continued, “Often, Ania and Fleea walked along the familiar paths in the nearby woods. Ania loved the gentle exercise and the fresh, cool breezes in the shade of the grove. As they were stepping along a pretty stone age to the place where they often sat to rest, Fleea pretended to trip and pushed Ania down hard onto the stone path. Heavy with child, Ania was badly hurt by her fall. And although Fleea went for help, she made no effort to hurry. Ania gave birth that

night, and her baby boy, Enon, was born with an injured leg. “When Darko ed Fleea’s words calling the child a bad seed, for a brief time he felt responsible for all that had happened, felt it was all his fault. Having failed to silence Fleea’s vicious words against Anai and their child, Darko promised himself to sternly forbid Fleea ever to speak against Ania again. Yet even now, Darko could not own up to his deep, unspoken desire for the child to die. “So he persuaded himself, that surely the child’s injury would heal, because he, as the village Chieftain deserves to have a strong, healthy son. He vowed to change, to be a good husband and father. When Darko again met Fleea, he sincerely intended to silence her. Yet she wildly exaggerated the baby’s injury, again forcefully repeated her vow to put the child in a cave, where Fate would decide its destiny. Weak in the face of Fleea’s fierce, fiery words however, it was Darko who was silenced. And above all, it was Darko who was shamed ing his own vile wish that his child would die. “OH, Yuck,” Belle almost shouted, “I hate that wicked Fleea. She’s so slimy, so spiteful…she’s such a stab-in-the-back. How could Darkoden be so blind…so… so STUPID? He’s beyond dumb, he’s…he’s utterly mindless. How can he let himself be so easily led and intimidated?” “I know how you feel,” said Mennoc. “Everything you say is true…it is enraging.” “Man! What a mess!” said Toby shaking his head in pure disgust at Darko’s weak, truly spineless silence. “Could that Fleea really be so cold-blooded as to abandon a little baby in a cave? She sounds really twisted, Mennoc. Why doesn’t Darko just kick The Wizard out?” “In a way” said Mennoc seriously, “ I suppose, it’s good for you to hear this part of the story now. It’s a preview of how real our Story-Travels will seem. But, let me conclude this long story, so at least you’ll know Ania is safe. “After giving birth, Ania realized how weak she was, and asked her devoted nurse to take her to Rannah’s cottage, a place where she knew she would recover in peace. Ojo and Rannah were the most trusted and skilled medicine-women in the area, especially known for their art in helping women recover after a difficult birth. In that Far Past -Time, it was common that women were the healers in a

village. “Arriving at Rannah’s cottage, Ania was very weak. Her nurse told Rannah about Ania’s accident before giving birth, and about the newborn’s injured leg. Exhausted by all that had happened, Ania now feeling safe and at ease quickly fell into a deep sleep. The last things she heard before drifting into sleep, were her nurse’s kind words that her little baby was in good hands. “Rannah’s cottage was the perfect refuge for Ania. The sturdy thatch-roof cottage stood in a big sunny field outside the village walls, sheltered on one side by lovely woods. Everything there fostered healing: the peaceful setting; the kind, skillful attentions of Rannah and Ojo; the fresh air; and most of all, the home-grown food that came daily from their thick garden rows and fruitful orchards. “Here Rannah and her mother, Ojo, skillfully blended their teas, herbal medicines, and ointments from their abundant aromatic garden. Ania’s dutiful nurse, glad to see her mistress already sleeping peacefully, left ing Ania’s words: “Take good care of my little Enon until I am well and at home again.” “Yet, little Enon at that very moment was in grave danger. While the nurse was helping Ania to Rannah’s cottage, a young maid was tenderly looking after tiny Enon. Pretending a friendly visit to see the child, Fleea gave the young maid a potion to make her sleep. Then quickly Fleea bundled the tiny newborn, still only hours old, in her shawl and rushed away to the cave.” Suddenly, Belle noticed that The Glass Key felt warm on her skin, and when she looked at it, she cried out: “Ahhhh! Look at The Glass Key! What’s happening? It’s so ugly. It’s flashing red, a muddy, ugly dark red. Yuck! What’s wrong? What’s going on?” “Forgive me, Belle,” said Mennoc. “I forgot to tell you that The Glass Key changes its color to signal danger: Red, is its dire Warning. No doubt, The Glass Key changed color, reacting to the evils in the story you both just heard. Let’s take it as a signal to change the subject for a while. “Let’s stretch our legs, and explore more of the cave. You’ll find there’s lots more to discover here than footprints. And Belle, please let me have The Glass Key for a moment. I want to make certain that the cord holding it around your

neck is strong and secure enough. I wouldn’t want the cord to break.” As Belle ed the Key to Mennoc in the dim light, he fumbled and dropped it.

Chapter 8

I N A FLASH, TOTALLY WITHOUT warning Toby and Belle found themselves in a muddy, icy-cold pond surrounded by startled, angry geese, fiercely hissing at them, wildly flapping their immense wings, appearing ready to attack. Despite feeling dazed and completely bewildered, the friends quickly tried struggling to their feet. Yet try as they might, finding firm footing in the deep soft mud bottom of the pond seemed impossible. Immediately soaked from top to bottom, now icy cold to the bone they began shaking and shivering uncontrollably. “What happened?” shouted Toby. “Where on earth are we? What’s going on?” “Where’s Mennoc? What’s happening, Toby?” Belle’s voice shook. “I’m freezing. And these geese seem wild, ready to attack us if we don’t get out of here and get away fast.” Steady footing seemed hopeless in the gushy, slippery mud-bottom pond. And though they kept trying to get out of the icy water, they kept losing their balance. Falling, splashing, groaning and screaming out loud in helpless terror, the two felt helplessly doomed. “What’s going on out here?” A young man shouted at them from the doorway of a nearby cottage. “What do you want? And what on earth are you doing in the goose pond? Get out of there! Come here! Once you get out of there, the geese will quiet down.” He sounded upset, but also a bit amused, as he waved at them to come to the cottage. Finally, crawling out of the pond on hands and knees, Belle and Toby tried to run toward the comfortable, very old-fashioned looking cottage. If they hadn’t been so dazed and frightened, the cottage might have reminded them of photos showing quaint ancient cottages: pretty as a picture with a neat thatched roof, surrounded by neatly tended garden rows. Yet numb with cold and fright, they noticed nothing. Their only thought was to get out of the freezing water, and as far away as they could from those angry aggressive geese.

The young man’s way of speaking sounded quite strange to them. At first it was hard to understand his words. And now, as if they didn’t already feel overwhelmed, vaguely Toby and Belle looked at each other, ing Mennoc’s warning about not entering the Story. But any other thought no mater how serious vanished. Only one urgent question after another grabbed their attention now…. What on earth had happened? Where on earth were they? And how on earth could they get back home? Urgently Toby whispered as they tried to run, now more frantically shaking with cold than ever. “Until we find out what’s going on,” Toby voiced, “let’s only Sign to each other. If those people think we’re deaf or mute, maybe they’ll guess we’re lost and harmless, and we won’t get in trouble.” g back, Belle nodded her full agreement, grateful for Toby’s quick thinking. As they reached the few last yards toward the cottage, they made an effort to Sign as rapidly as possible. Yet being so thoroughly chilled, they couldn’t stop trying to hold their arms around themselves, to stop their shivering. An older, pleasant looking woman ed the young man at the door. She watched very carefully as the two friends shaking uncontrollably Signed to each other, doing their best to smile, to look harmless and helpless. “Well, what have we here, besides muddy, shaking-cold, half-drowned Young Ones?” the woman at the door asked. Freezing cold and half dazed, the two friends remained silent, g as fast as they could, pointing to each other, the geese, and the pond. “Well, first, come in,” said the woman said briskly. “And get out of those wet clothes. Wash. Get warm. Then, we’ll try to find out how came you to us.” At once, Belle and Toby nodded their understanding, thoroughly grateful for the chance to get warm and clean up. Once inside, without ceremony they were quickly led to a big thick wooden, bucket-like tub on a stand at the back of the cottage behind a cloth stretched across a doorway off the warm kitchen. The water was not as hot as they would have liked, but it was warm, and they turned their backs to each other as they peeled off their ruined clothes. It felt so good just to get out of those wet, smelly clothes.

“Stand back,” the woman of the house ordered. “Here’s more hot water. Use that ladle on the peg to rinse off. You won’t flood the kitchen, the water runs into our sand pit.” Using the ladle as directed, the now thoroughly heated water felt wonderful, warming them almost immediately. They dried quickly, and put on the simple, long homespun tunics, handed them. These tunics were exactly like those the others wore, knotted with a thin braided rope belt. All they wished for now was to sit near the fire. Gradually, as their thumping hearts slowed, they felt the comforting relief of being clean and in soft warm clothes. Slowly they looked around at their surroundings. As they left the wash area, checking that they hadn’t flooded the floor, they looked at the simple drain. Deep grooves in the stone slab under the tub-stand funneled the water away from the kitchen toward a gap in the stones where it quickly drained away. The stone floor to the kitchen was completely dry. For the first time since their fall into the pond, the friends shared a quiet look, noticing with appreciation the simple, clever drainage. So far everything in the cottage was different, yet somehow familiar. Entering the warm kitchen, they were glad to see their shoes already drying on the edge of the stone hearth fireplace. Meanwhile, the kind woman of the house gave them thick floppy felts to wear, shaped somewhat like low wide-top boots covering their ankles. The felts quickly warmed their still cold feet. As soon as entered the kitchen, they were told to sit at the table near the fire. The woman of the house put out for them two deep bowls of steaming fragrant broth, along with thick slices of fresh bread and a ball of butter. Belle smiled her thanks, and touched her fingers to her lips as a sign of gratitude. Toby made a slight bow, smiled and twice nodded his thanks. Hungrily, the two friends ate the simple food, making soft sounds of enjoyment as the broth warmed them. g back and forth to each other, they agreed that no food ever tasted so good. Belle could hardly believe their good luck, especially in light of Mennoc’s warning. Of course, their profound fright following all that happened to them still lingered. Yet, here they were: warm, clean, and safe. Given satisfying food and comfortable clothes, they felt as warmly welcomed as long lost kin.

Being so kindly taken in and comforted, after their trauma, touched Belle deeply, and her eyes filled with tears. More than anything she longed to show her overwhelming gratitude. At the very least, Belle wanted to hug this motherly woman whose simple goodness and warm generosity filled her with full-hearted appreciation. Then and there, Belle robustly vowed to herself, that somehow she would repay this motherly woman’s simple warmth and kindness. I’ll find a way. Then she ed Mennoc’s promise, “you will cherish our Story-Travels. Have no regrets.” “Now where did these waifs came from, and who be they?” the older woman asked the young man, she called Oron. A grandmotherly looking woman, seated near the table answered, suggesting that perhaps they were enchanted. “See how they use their hands. No talk goes between them, yet full understanding comes to each.” Oron said he would ask around in the Village and try to learn something. Everyone in the kitchen openly stared at Toby and Belle, as they hungrily ate as fast as they could. “Be careful, my son,” said the older woman. “They are very Young Ones and we can give them shelter for a while, but well you know the danger. Our rule of hospitality bids us help them, but well may they be a warning that danger lurks near. And I am fearful.” Now having finished every drop of their warming meal, Toby and Belle tried to display their deep gratitude with full open smiles, yet still without a word. All three of the household who had welcomed the two friends into their kitchen now stood staring at them with open curiosity. Clearly they appeared related, three generations perhaps: grandmother her mature daughter, and her grown grandson. All shared the same warm burnished skin tones, and had distinctive blue-grey eyes. Both the young man and his mother had very dark thick brown hair. The grandmother’s thick hair now evenly streaked with grey, was perhaps once as dark as the others. With a friendly gesture, the mature woman of the house showed Toby and Belle a sturdy ladder to a loft, above the kitchen, and told them to sleep. They didn’t hesitate. Three simple mats and covers were spread out very much like their own

camping bedrolls, clean and cozy. The loft itself was very warm, and before going to sleep, very softly they whispered to one another, that in the morning they would try to make a plan. Until then, they agreed, they were too tired to think straight. With a final goodnight, Toby bravely tried to reassure Belle that everything would be OK, even though he didn’t really believe a word of it himself.

Very early the next morning before sunrise and before they heard anyone stirring in the kitchen below, Toby and Belle whispered ever so softly to one another. In detail, they went over Mennoc’s Story-Travel plans, trying to make some sense of the bewildering events that had happened. “Did we do something wrong?” “How did we land in that goose pond?” “And where on earth?…Where in the world are we?” “Could we possibly be inside Mennoc’s Story-Travel-Past?” “We seem to be. But where is that? And how far in the Past is this place? “There’s so much to try and figure out.” “Maybe once we’ve had a chance to notice things here, we’ll have a clue.” “But if we’re already here inside the Story-Travel-Past, how can we follow Mennoc’s rule not to interfere?” “And where IS Mennoc anyway? Did he fall here too, or is he somewhere else?” Question, questions, all without answers seemed to hang in the air over their heads. Feeling frustrated and frightened Belle longed to do something. Very softly she whispered her wish: let’s tell this kind family about the strange events that brought us here, and ask for their help. Toby listened, nodding, then said, “Yeah, we’ll probably tell them all that stuff at

some point.” Then he listed their priorities, “But for now I think we should wait and see what happens. Let’s be polite, be as helpful as we can, and above all keep our eyes and ears open. When the time comes, we can always talk if we need to. The main thing we’ve got to do is figure out how to get home.” “OK,” Belle whispered. Then, eager as ever to work out a plan, as if this was just another problem to solve, she said, “But first let’s try to figure out where we are, and how we got here. Then maybe we can find a way to get back home. I only hope our folks won’t worry that we’ve run away. My folks have enough to worry about trying to help Gram. But one thing’s for sure: we got here somehow, so there’s got to be a way to get back home.”

Chapter 9

W HEN THE SUN WAS UP and the family began to come into the kitchen, everyone greeted Belle and Toby. Rannah, the woman of the house, introduced everyone: herself, her son, Oron; Ojo, her mother and Oron’s grandmother; Ania and her son, Enon, who seemed about the same age as Belle and Toby. Ania and Enon were introduced simply, without any explanation or connection to the others. Indeed, their lengthy story and relationship to everyone at the cottage were not for new comers’ ears. Yet when Belle heard Enon’s name, without thinking she burst out. “Are you Enon, the son of Darkoden? Mennoc told us about you, just before we landed in that pond.” Oron jumped to his feet, shouting, almost screaming, overturning his chair. “Are you witches? Who sent you here? Did The Wizard send you to spy on us?” Oron’s reaction shocked the two friends, leaving them speechless, confused and frightened. Rannah with hands on her hips immediately demanded, “Who is this Mennoc? And how is it you come here, if not by cunning magic or the Dark Powers?” “And how do you know about Enon? What do you know of him?” Oron continued in a threatening voice. “And why speak you now? When not ever a word did you say before now? Not…One…Word! Who are you? What are you doing here?” Ania held up her hand, and said with quiet authority, “Softly. Softly. You are frightening the Young Ones.” After Oron and Rannah were seated again and calmed a bit, yet still glaring at the two, Ania continued. “Tell us your story, children. I sense you have much to tell. We will hear you, and we will tell our story. We mean you no harm, as we hope you bring no harm to us. You are our guests and you will enjoy our courtesy, unless you show reason for us to send you away.”

First sincerely apologizing, saying how sorry they were to frighten everyone so badly, the two friends quietly and humbly introduced themselves, and began a brief summary of their long story. They told of Mennoc’s cabin, and the huge Wishing Key that bound him. They described finding the tiny Key and freeing him. They even showed everyone the faint pink scars on their fingers left by the Key halves. Then they told the final part of their story: Mennoc giving Belle The Glass Key, their plan to Story-Travel with Mennoc, and his warning about the dangers and risks of entering the story. Again, they sincerely apologized, saying they didn’t really know where they were or how it all had happened. However, they repeated gratefully that they understood they are now are in a safe place, with good, kind people. Then, they thanked the family over and over. Belle ended by saying that when she heard Enon’s name, all she could think of was that suddenly she had found a way to make sense of it all, so she blurted out Enon’s name. Toby looking directly at Oron, explained that they didn’t speak yesterday, but used Sign instead, because they were so afraid. They didn’t know what might happen to them in this Far-Past-Time and place, especially without Mennoc’s protection and guidance. With a tremor in his voice Toby ended saying, “you can’t imagine how scared we were.” Everyone in the cottage was utterly quiet, having listened deeply attentive, slowly taking in the words and the events told by these two mysterious Young Ones. Clearly, they were not witches. Plus, their story and their fright appeared real and true. Gradually, each one in the family began to feel more at ease, and one by one they added to the story Mennoc had started in the cave. Ania told a little about Enon’s young life, especially his memory gifts. How he created beautiful drawings on the cave walls, often after seeing the living creatures for only a fleeing moment. Rannah spoke about the herbal medicines she and her mother, Ojo, made. Then in a few words Ojo said a bit about their quiet lives and their herb garden. And Oron briefly outlined some details about life in their village.

Finally, Enon said he would take them to his cave world soon. Yet even now, no one explained why Enon visited the cave so often. However, Belle and Toby clearly understood much more about the family and knew they would learn more soon. At last they felt they could breathe easier, feel at ease and put aside their fears. The two ‘Young Ones,’ as everyone called them, now fully understood that they had indeed, entered another Time, a long Past-Time. Without doubt they clearly understood they were inside the Story-Travel Past: deep inside, and completely on their own. Trying to take it all in, to make sense of it, made them shiver. Never had either of the friends ever felt so utterly lost, so far away from home, without any sense of where they were. Eager to try to figure out events, Belle asked, “Can any of you here help us understand what happened to us? How we came to find ourselves here, instantly and without any warning?” “Surely,” Ojo said simply: “it was the magic in The Glass Key that traveled you here to us, to where you are now.” Everyone in the room nodded in agreement with Ojo’s simple words. Lastly, Ania told the two Young Ones that Mennoc was indeed right about the dangers of tumbling into the Time of Darkoden and The Wizard. She urged them to be attentive to all they saw and heard, to carefully and faithfully follow the directions of those around this table. The fact that their strange arrival didn’t seem to puzzle or alarm anyone here at the cottage was in itself astonishing, a total mystery to Toby and Belle. “Was everything out of the ordinary that happened here simply explained as ‘magic’?” the two whispered softly to one another, looking with wide-eyes at everyone. “Put aside any more talk of how and why,” said Rannah closing the discussion in her matter-of-fact way. “Time will surely help you Young Ones learn what brought you here, and what is being asked of you. Now, we must weave together a simple part-true story to tell the villagers of your coming here, to show you come with peaceful purpose. “We must tuck you well into our world without a hint of danger. If The Wizard learned of your coming here without his consent, you and all in this house would be in grievous danger. The Wizard controls this village with threats,

punishments, cruel curses and enchantments. And Ania is right to warn you to abide by the guidance of the family around this table.” The overwhelmed Young Ones soberly nodded their cautiously wary, yet full agreement. Looking at one another, Toby and Belle signaled with wide-eyes that without doubt they had landed inside a truly mysterious Far-Past-Time. So many questions to answer, yet one was urgent: was their very Fate here ruled by some kind of Magic? Magic that they neither believed in nor understood: what a quandary! Later that day as everyone gathered again around the table in the kitchen, Ojo suggested a way for the Young Ones to fit smoothly into village life without creating a stir. The plan Ojo outlined was already familiar to the villagers. Ojo said the Young Ones could take her place while learning to know the villagers, the paths and the routines of everyday life. If you look busy and welcome in our cottage, no one will wonder why you are here. “Let me explain,” Ojo said simply. “Oron made a small ‘hatch-house’ for me, where I hatch baby chicks for the farm children. The children love the chicks and learn much while caring for them. Before long, they begin to know the habits of the other barnyard animals, and slowly find their place on the farm, willing and able to help with chores. “Having the chicks to look after on their own, helps the children feel grown-up. But most of all,” Ojo chuckled, “the children giggle with delight when they find the half-grown chicks following them around the barnyard, as if they are the mother-hens of the new hatched chicks. “ Toby was the first to Ojo chuckling as he pictured the scene in the barnyard. Quickly, all agreed that Ojo’s plan was just right, simple and practical. In Ojo’s place carrying the baby chicks to the farm children, Belle and Toby would learn the local paths as they walked to the farms. More important the two would get to know the farm families one at a time. Taking Ojo’s place would make it easy for them to fit in and be helpful. As for themselves, the friends saw it as a way to look for clues somewhere, somehow: clues to help them find a way home. Ojo continued to describe how useful this plan was in other ways. “On Market Days, one day each week, as you go into the area set up by the Market Day folks outside the village walls, you Young Ones will hear local gossip and news, and

greet villagers as you both begin to recognize one another. Perhaps you can trade some of Rannah’s dried herbs for a small, fresh cheese or some dyed yarn, to show yourselves as part of our life here. “Slowly doing the simple chore of bringing the new-hatched chicks to the farm children,” Ojo reminded everyone at the table, “the Young Ones will begin to be familiar to village folk, to be part of us, not newcomers, outsiders or strangers. Learning the paths, and keeping busy is for the good of them, and for all of us.” “One word of caution,” said Ania. “Fleea often wanders the paths on Market Days. Watch out for her! Be on guard! She wears a flowing dark robe with a purple fringe around the hood. She has a fierce-staring glass eye, which is hard to look away from if she fixes it on you. That glass eye is said to hold strong magic, able to put the unwary into a trance if they look long into it. Dip your heads as if you are shy. Above all, never look into her eyes, and keep along your path. In our village children are taught to keep their eyes down. It is not favored here for young ones to meet the eyes of adults as we see you do. Especially with Fleea, to know is to be safe.” Approving Ania’s words of caution, everyone around the table showed their agreement with nods and serious faces. Everyone saw that Ojo’s simple plan with the chicks would work smoothly to fit the Young Ones into village life. Oron, now feeling relaxed and less wary, smiled at the Young Ones agreeing that they would earn their keep by helping Ojo with the chicks. Then as an afterthought, he added that he would tell his friend, Janok, the black-smith, that two of his third-cousin’s children were visiting, children of Rannah’s half brother-inlaw, who lives across the peaks. And that if Janok ever saw two lost Young Ones to give them directions to the cottage along with his big friendly, four-tooth grin. “All right!” Belle thought to herself, amused, “Wherever it is we’ve landed, there’s a tribe here that both Oron and Toby belong to, the ones who love to joke and poke fun.” It was a good sign. Nevertheless, that night before sleeping, the two friends whispered for a long time, scouring their memories for details, trying to solve the puzzle of where they are. Over and over they asked each other if either of them had seen or found even a tiny clue to help them figure out what had happened. Carefully reviewing their memory of the cave setting where they sat with Mennoc, both of them clearly recalled that when Mennoc dropped The Glass Key, everything changed.

But what cave were they in? And where is The Glass Key now? Was it broken? Is that what transported them here? Questions… nothing but Questions. When would they begin to find some Answers? Without any clear signs to tell them where they were, puzzles loomed and nagged their every thought: “Where in this Past-Time are we really? Is Mennoc here too? Everyone here says, Caves. How many are there? And how can we find the cave where The Glass Key might be, when we only know one cave just a bit, and that one only from the inside? And what about The Glass Key: does it still have its magic? Or is it shattered, maybe lost, of no help to us at all?” Finally, exhausted by the full day in this totally new environment, they drifted off to sleep. Still in the dark about lots of things, nevertheless the Young Ones felt grateful to be in this good home with such a kind family: safe, snug, and in good hands. The very next day, following-up on her plan, Ojo gave each of The Young Ones a soft woolen hat-like nest with four baby chicks nestled inside. Directions were simple to find the farmhouse where they were headed, and the baby chicks peeped sweetly as the friends walked slowly toward the village walls. After a while the chicks settled into a cozy bundle and slept, looking like a ball of soft, yellow fuzz. The farmhouse they were looking for was on a forked path off the wide main path, just before the bridge that led into the village inside the walls. As they approached the farm gate, two young children ran out to take the little chicks, clapping and smiling happily. Followed by their mother, she directed the children to put the chicks in the wide rope basket that was ready for them. Careful to tell Belle and Toby that the chicks would be in good hands, the mother detailed how the chicks would be looked after. “They will nest in a big cozy basket in the warm kitchen, will have fine meal to peck, fresh water and will be watched over closely, I promise. Smiling she glanced back as the two kids hurried inside with the chicks. “When the chicks grow big enough to go outside,” she continued, “they will have a coop to nest in at night, and by day will scratch in the dirt of our farmyard, looking for insects and bits of scattered feed-seed.” Again, the young mother thanked the two friends saying how eagerly the children had waited for

the promised chicks. She smiled her thanks, sending them back with kind words and a small bunch of bluebells for Ojo. After leaving the farm, Belle and Toby reviewed a few of the unusual things they noticed. The young children who just received the baby chicks didn’t look at them or interact at all, seemed totally shy. Certainly the kids were very happy to have the baby chicks, smiling and giggling with pleasure. But it was the mother who made the friendly . Belle asked, “Did you notice the odd way the mom looked at us at first, a bit taken-aback, then asked if we were twins?” “Yeah,” said Toby. “I’m glad you simplified things by saying we were cousins. She seemed OK with that. I wonder if it’s not acceptable here for boys and girls our age to be in each other’s company alone without an adult along? She really seemed surprised.” “Next time we bring chicks to kids, I’m going to kneel down and look at the kids at their eye level.” Belle mused, “Maybe they’re told not to be friendly unless someone is friendly first.” It wasn’t very much of a chore to bring the baby chicks to the children of the farm-families. In fact it was fun. Still Toby and Belle hoped they were really helping Ojo while learning the paths and the villagers’ habits. And it certainly did seem to work. They felt accepted without question by the families they met when bringing the chicks to their children. Most of all, the two friends were excited about going with Enon into the caves. Their undisguised hope was to recognize the cave where they were with Mennoc. At the very least they felt that knowing more about the caves might be their first step in finding a way to get home. Rannah’s words were a comfort they recalled everyday. “Time will surely help you Young Ones learn what brought you here, and what is being asked of you.”

Chapter 10

A S PROMISED, THE NEXT DAY Enon led his two new friends to the cave entrance, completely hidden by thorny brambles and thick shrubs. On one side the shrubs were slightly thinner and Enon led them single file down into the dim light of a short age into the cave. Instantly, the air inside felt cold, and they noticed how different the earthy smell of the cave was from the woodsy scented air outside, breezy and warm. Belle thought, if it were possible to smell stillness or silence, then that describes exactly what the air inside the cave was like, as if it were ancient air who knows how old. She vividly ed the first time she and Toby entered the cave with Mennoc, it seemed they had stepped into another world: a world hidden away, completely alien. That day seemed so long ago now. Belle had to shake her thoughts away from yearning to go home. Enon led his new friends deep into a small chamber, where a tiny crack in the rocky ceiling allowed dim light to enter. Before leading the way into yet a smaller chamber, he picked up a small lantern and in a few swift, well-practiced strokes, produced a spark to light the candle in the lantern. Clearly, this was something Enon did often. He made it look easy to light a candle with sparks from flinty stones. Following Enon into the small chamber, Toby and Belle gasped in surprise at what they saw. On every wall were dozens of Enon’s drawings: vivid images of animals that roamed the wilderness mountainsides in this Long-Past Time. Wild goats with beautiful curved horns, all kinds of deer, thick-bodied boar with fierce looking tusks, bears of all sizes, big horned bulls, aurochs and badgers, dozens upon dozens of images covered the walls. The friends smiled in delight at a lifesize spotted pony-like creature that they agreed looked fun and fanciful. The drawing of a big owl looked perfectly realistic yet creepy when they noticed that the huge staring eyes seemed to follow their every move. In the flickering light of the lantern, the detailed drawings seemed to move, to come alive. The images were truly breathtaking. Sharply outlined in thick, dark black strokes, simply yet boldly sketched, the figures looked quite realistic.

Nevertheless no two looked alike, each having been unevenly colored and shaded with earthy orange, reddish brown or dusky yellow pigments. Easily Enon explained why he spent days in the cave drawing, telling his friends how he and his mother, Ania, were rumored to be dead. He repeated that Fleea despised Ania, and maliciously had spread the rumor that Ania and her baby had died during a difficult birth. Although some people did indeed suspect Fleea of stealing little newborn Enon, no one seemed certain. And, of course, as you might expect, no one challenged Fleea. “Even so,” Enon continued, “while dark magic was always known in the village, killing a newborn would never be tolerated. The villagers would have demanded swift justice from Darkoden. So if Fleea’s act of stealing the child were discovered, The Wizard as Fleea, would be threatened with total banishment or worse. No doubt about it, The Wizard would stop at nothing to save himself from the severe judgment of enraged villagers, even if it meant killing both Ania and Enon. “That,” he explained, “was why we kept out of sight as much as possible. If we were found, Rannah said all of us would be in grave danger. So since my youngest years,” Enon said, “I’ve spent days drawing in the dim light of the cave, dreaming about the time I’d be free.” Belle and Toby were glad to hear Enon’s story of his early years, even though it was sad beyond words. However, they could hardly take their eyes from the drawings. Enon showed them a few of his earliest drawings, laughing as he pointed out the vague, childish stick figures. “They’re still there, under the ones you see now. But once I got better at drawing, I started covering over all my first attempts. Oron always encouraged me. He’s always been a good ‘big brother’ to me, and, well, he’s really my best friend. He brought me bundles of thick charred sticks, and kept me company, telling me stories about animals, while he watched me draw.” Belle asked as she stared at the array of animals, “I can see why you spent time in the cave, away from villagers and The Wizard. But how did you get started drawing, Enon?” “Um, I guess…well, it was probably by accident. I hardly , really… I started when I was so little. I found sticks and would poke around and play with

them in the sand along the stream. Didn’t have much else to do, I suppose. “Oron was almost always here with me, saying he didn’t like the hot sun. But I learned later that he was really here to protect me from the wild animals that sometimes wandered into the cave. Even now, animals sometimes come in, but almost always to get away from predators chasing them. Knowing Oron’s big heart, I’m sure he felt sorry for me, sorry that I had to hide here so often. “At first, we played games with sticks in the wet sand. Then when he saw I liked to draw in the sand, he made a game of drawing on the cave walls. He was the one to figure out that clays and some soft stones could be pounded and mixed to color the drawings. If it hadn’t been for Oron, nothing at all, not a single drawing would be here. “But, the drawings are not the real reason I wanted you to visit the cave. There is someone I would like you to meet,” Enon told them with a boyish, playful smile. Suddenly Belle and Toby heard a hissing sound, soft and low at first, then a steadily increasing sound, almost like a hum. Then, in the dim light they saw an immense snake, a huge golden-skin snake slowly gliding toward them, its powerful muscles rippling under its shiny, beautifully patterned scales as it silently moved. The NQCs recoiled, completely taken-aback. “Please forgive me,”Enon, burst out laughing, “I just wanted to see your faces when you first saw my sister.” “Your sister is a snake?” gasped Belle, astonished. “YES, really. She is my sister, under a cruel curse, but she is really and truly my sister… and a dear precious sister she is, Belle. Her real name is Neras, given when she was a baby. There will never be a more peaceful, or loving person you will ever know, I promise. But, please, never let the villagers know you have met her. They call her Saren, and have invented a dreadful image of her as a cave monster to warn children away from the caves. Yet, it’s the caves themselves and the stream that can be dangerous, not my dear sister, Saren.” “Didn’t know you’re such a Trickster, Enon,” laughed Toby. “ Hope you had fun, ‘cause now I can’t wait to pay you back. Oh, yeah, old Buddy, get ready for pay-back time. Just you wait.”

Now relaxed, the three friends laughed. Then Enon, invited his friends to sit down and get to know Saren. What Toby and Belle saw next was something they could never have imagined, not even if they had always truly believed in magic. Enon sat on the cave floor, his back resting against the rocky ledge behind him, while Saren coiled up by his side. As she softly rested her smooth oval head on his chest, Enon stroked her gently. They looked so natural together, as if she were his favorite pet: his big, beautiful, golden-skin pet. If Saren could have closed her eyes, surely she would have. Nevertheless, she looked utterly blissful and content to be at her brother’s side. Seeing this intense bond of affection between Saren and Enon, moved Belle deeply, touching her to her core. If only she could do something to undo the curse. Perhaps it was all that had happened during this visit to the cave that made her suddenly feel overwhelmed: the half scary feeling of entering the dark cave, the hope of finding something to lead them home, the awe of seeing the beautiful drawings, and then the momentary fright of seeing Saren. Yet, whatever it was, Belle turned her head for a moment, not wanting to be teary or seeming sad. Still, she couldn’t stop looking at Saren and Enon, profoundly touched by their complete devotion to each other. “Right here in front of me,” Belle thought, “right here: the separation of this lonely brother and sister, keeping them apart, that’s the ugliness of vile magic. And most despicable of all, is this attempt to make them total strangers to one another forever.” More fiercely than ever, Belle vowed to undo such wickedness in all its forms, no matter what it might take. Then bemused, she ruefully told herself, “Well, that’s one good reason to stay around here for a while. Not just a plain-everydaygarden-variety-Wizard to thwart. Oh, No! Belle. You pick a double-headed, semi-Gorgon of a Wizard to banish. That’s one fine repellent specimen of a Wizard to defeat. Way To Go!”

Chapter 11

S AREN NOW LIFTED HER HEAD and spoke softly to Enon in her own language, saying she would like his new friends to know how she found him in the cave. Enon smiled and nodded when she asked him to relay her story to Toby and Belle. Enon told them Saren’s wish, and the two friends eagerly agreed that they’d very much like to hear her story and sat nearby to listen. So Saren spoke first, as Enon put her story into words. She began, by recalling the day Fleea had darted into the cave with Enon. There Saren saw her newborn baby brother only hours old, wrapped in a shawl, left on the rocky ledge near the cave’s entrance. After hurriedly entering the cave, Fleea handled the infant as if he were nothing more than some bit of rubbish to be discarded. Watching Fleea’s every move in the dim light, and informed by deep instinct Saren knew that Fleea was half-aware of her silent presence. In the years since her enchantment, Saren had grown huge, and understood without doubt that Fleea would be terrified to see her full size. Finally sensing Saren’s presence, Fleea’s first thought was to run out of the cave without even making eye with Saren. However, when looking over her shoulder she saw Saren’s eyes fixed on her, boldly staring. Instantly, Fleea seemed paralyzed with fear. As if in a nightmare, the cave exit now seemed to stretch away, far beyond her reach in the distance. Fleea’s legs felt heavy, leaden. Screaming, stumbling, tripping, rushing to get out of the cave, Fleea was petrified by the thought of Saren’s revenge for being cursed so long ago. “Then,” Enon relayed as Saren continued, now looking directly at Belle and Toby, “slowly and gently I approached my baby brother, and whispered ‘Little Brother, I am your real Sister, your Guardian. I will keep you safe until you are found. If you cry, I will cradle you. I will bask in the sun to warm us both. Not a breath of harm will touch you while you are in my care.” Saren’s voice had become little more than a whisper. “It was then that I gave my tiny newborn brother the only gifts I had. I held you closer, my little one, still only hours old. This very moment was the best time for you to receive for my gifts. With my forked tongue, I softly touched both your lips and your ear, to

confer my gifts: that you would perfectly understand the sounds of every animal voice and language, and have the gift of speech with all creatures. “As I ed my gifts to you, my little one, I in turn perceived the gifts of your human essence. Even with so brief a , I stored forever in my mind, a vivid memory-record of your unique self: your voice, your scent, your skin’s texture, your taste, your breath, your hand-clasp, your eye gaze, your heart-beat sounds, even your mind-glow. At that moment we were united in our deepest selves, as sister and brother. And so we will always remain.” “Oh, Saren, I love you,” Belle burst out. “I’m so glad you were the one to find your tiny brother. You’re so caring, so devoted to each other! I don’t know what I’d do, if anyone tried to hurt you or Enon.” Toby blinked his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, his face flushed as if he had been running. His rapid heartbeats and quick breaths clearly signaled that he too was deeply moved by Saren’s plight. He opened his lips as if to speak, then simply nodded his head agreeing with each and every word Belle had spoken. He pictured Saren cradling her little brother in her strong, powerful coils. He stared at her in iration of her wisdom and forethought. “Saren,” Toby said softly his voice hoarse with deep feeling, “What savvy gifts you gave your new little brother…. gifts of a lifetime. Gifts to unite you forever, keeping you in touch with each other’s worlds as best you could.” Toby saw that he and Belle felt and reacted to Saren’s gifts in the same way. They were transfixed by what they were learning and witnessing. After a long pause that signaled Saren’s deep understanding of Toby’s words, Saren continued. “I signaled to the otter, who lives in the stream outside the cave, to tell Rannah she was needed. The otter knows how to send a message from me.” The otter reacted immediately. Swimming to the edge of the stream near the cottage, the otter sounded its urgent barks, one after another. Rannah recognized the signals and swiftly came running to the cave. “Arriving quickly, she picked up and cuddled the little bundle of Enon from my coils. Then she winked at me, playfully laughed and shook her finger at me, saying I had better be careful or she’d give me a great, big kiss. As Ania told me later, a beamingly happy Rannah carried tiny Enon, still only hours old, into the

cottage and put him into her outstretched arms.” Enon wanted to tell his friends more about Saren’s life, but Belle held up her hand signaling that she’d like to say something first. “Enon, before you begin, we’d like to tell you the background that Mennoc told us about your family. Then, we’d like very much for you, if you would, simply fill in the blanks.” “Sure,” Enon said with a smile. “And, I really can’t wait to meet your Guardian Guide, Mennoc. Already, I’m beginning to think of him as our Family Historian.” They all laughed, and Saren flicked out her tongue to show she understood. Without hesitation the friends took turns telling all they had heard from Mennoc. Then, telling Enon that they felt bad talking about his father’s dark deeds, they listed even more events that Mennoc had told them. It surprised Enon to hear just how much his two friends already knew. Thoughtfully, he said there was still much more he wanted to add. “For instance, until now I couldn’t tell you that Saren and Oron were my dearest companions all during the seemingly endless days I spent in the cave. “But there is still a mystery about Saren, I’d like you to know” said Enon. “She too, was stolen by Fleea, when she was only days old. For some reason that I’m really at a loss to explain, Fleea despises children. She paid an elderly couple to secretly keep Neras and care for her. But as little Neras grew, the couple wearied of the work. “So Fleea enchanted Neras, turning her into this form, dooming her to live in the cave. Only once each month on the night of the dark moon is she free of the curse. When Neras was still very young, Oron as a young lad would wait with her each night of the dark moon and walk with her to the cottage. Until my mother and I came to live at the cottage, Rannah, Oron, and Ojo were the only family Neras knew. It was Fleea herself, who spread the word of a fierce, giant snake in the cave, naming her Saren.” All of a sudden, Saren became alert, and moving quickly hissed a warning to Enon.

“Someone is coming to the cave,” Enon said softly, “we’ve got to hide. Quick! Follow Saren as fast as you can. She knows where to go.” Quickly Saren smoothly guided them into a large chamber just beyond the entrance chamber where they had been sitting. At first the light seemed very dim, but as their eyes adjusted, they moved easily without stumbling into the wide space behind a large stalagmite. It was a perfect spot. Here, without being seen they could see anyone entering the cave, and clearly overhear every word being said. Belle’s heart was racing and she hoped no one could hear the rapid thumping heartbeats she felt. The four of them quickly made themselves as comfortable as possible, but they didn’t have long to wait.

Chapter 12

T WO MEN ENTERED THE CAVE, clearly behaving as if they were alone: didn’t lower their voices or seem at all wary. In fact, they seemed to raise their voices, as if the stillness and silence of the cave made them feel they should speak up louder than usual. “It’s Darko and Fleeog, The Wizard,” Enon breathed rather than spoke the names of the two men, shaping the men’s names with his lips. Toby and Belle instantly recognized the names, and were jolted by fear and dread merely hearing the names of these men. Actually seeing these two villains, the very ones who had caused so much grief and misery to the villagers, the NQCs instantly stiffened and recoiled. In their wildest nightmares, they never imagined they would ever see or be near these two wicked men. Now, seeing them, hearing them, just being within such close , the two friends felt a surge of panic. Instantly as they flinched and tried to move away, Saren sensed their raw terror, and drew closer as if to say, “I’m here. I’m at your side. I won’t let any one harm you.” Fleeog’s voice boomed, “Here is what I told you about, my friend. Just look at how the gold-seeds shine in this thin ray of light. When the boys dig and spread the sand in full sunlight, think how fast these gold-seeds will grow. Why, in no time, the seeds will become pure gold, as plentiful as every grain of sand in this cave. AND ALL OF IT YOURS! DARKO, ALL YOURS.” As he spoke, Fleeog pointed the pale Key that was hanging from his belt, at the sandy bank, as if The Wizard’s Key itself held the power to change the sand into gold. Fashioned from the pale, dry bone of some long dead animal, the Key’s smooth rounded top vaguely resembled a skull so that its very shape symbolized The Wizard’s ever-present threatening source of demonic magic. Riveted by the promising vision of unlimited gold, Darko was rendered utterly speechless. The thought of such riches left him breathless, dizzy, giddy with the idea. Never in all his dreams of wealth, could he have imagined gold as countless as grains of sand.

At this moment, Darko’s face looked exactly like a nervous, furtive thief seeing a treasure in front of him, seemingly his for the taking, greedily craving such riches, yet all the while wary of a trap. His hands moved in spasm-like jerks, as if already he was trying to reach out: to touch the gold, to count it. Yet, his body was as rigid as a stone statue. Only his face and hands revealed the struggle inside him. He was seized by such an over-powering desire for gold that it both paralyzed him and made him twitch. However, somewhere deep inside himself, Darko suspected Fleeog’s promise was too good to be true. Yet, greed for the treasure prompted him to push aside his better judgment, to brush it away entirely. Now free of any internal restraint, his hunger for gold gripped and blinded him. His face was a mask of lust for riches. As The Wizard watched Darko, he wore a sly, lip-curling sneer, relishing completely his power, his control over Darko. As for treasure of his own, The Wizard knew perfectly well: Darko’s Greed was Fleeog’s Gold. Fleeog continued to expand on the plan to grow gold, as he walked with Darko along the edge of the quiet stream in the cave. Pointing to the water, he described its sinister nature. The water was foul, tainted, unfit to drink, yet not really poisonous: no. The water didn’t out-right kill the animals that wandered into the cave and drank it, but it did make them less alert, more easily set upon by the predators which had chased them inside. “So,” Fleeog continued, “the young boys, most merely 8-10 years old, will be dulled, easy to control. Ordered to work in the cave, to simply dig and spread the sand in the big empty field, they will meekly follow directions. So simple: all of it will be so simple to arrange.” Then Fleeog, his reassuring arm on Darko’s shoulder, led him out of the cave, continuing all the while to describe the plan to grow gold. Their voices faded slowly. Following this scene the four had just witnessed, Enon remained quiet, totally lost in thought. As they returned to the entrance chamber where Darko and Fleeog had stood only moments ago, Enon’s expression showed how puzzled he was. Now deep in thought his brow wrinkled and furrowed, he tried to make sense of what they heard. “This plan to harvest gold from the cave sand changes everything,” Enon said.

“What can Fleeog be thinking? Turn sand into gold? What a hoax! And what young boys is he talking about? Is he thinking of lads from our village? What a strange plan, none of it seems to make sense.” Toby snapped his fingers, “I think I’ve figured out a bit of what’s going on. when we were sitting here, before Fleeog & Co. came in? Belle and I had just started to tell you all the things we heard from Mennoc when we first came to this cave. And we asked if you would listen, then simply fill in the blanks. “Well, we found a lot in the cave: animal pelts, lots of bare footprints up and down along the stream, a huge molted snake skin, no doubt from Saren. Plus, we saw lots of mica in the cave sand, and in bright light mica really does sparkle. It’s quite flashy. Toby couldn’t resist the urge to brag a bit to Enon about his science classes. “Now when I think of it, turning something common like sand into gold, that idea’s been around for ages. Reminds me of the ancient alchemists in Medieval times we read about, trying for ages “to transmute base metals into gold” as my chemistry teacher described it. Making gold from ordinary stuff: ha! What a dream! Never worked, but they didn’t give–up. Got to give them credit for working at it so long. “Even so,” Toby continued, “Fleeog is no alchemist. He’s just spinning a fantasy, inventing lies as fast as he can to make Darko believe he has power to turn mica into gold. Yet, whatever he’s planning about the boys, now that’s really something to worry about. For sure, he’s up to no good, not with his record. We can only wonder what rotten tricks he’s got up his sleeve now?” While Toby was telling Enon his views on all they overheard, Belle walked toward the edge of the stream and picked up a handful of the dry sand. Holding it in the thin shaft of sunlight from a fissure in the rocky ceiling, she let the micarich sand run through her fingers. Sparkling and glistening, it certainly was eyecatching, no doubt about that. Yet, as the four watched the sand flash and gleam in the light, they all shared much the same thought: only a fool, a complete, greedy fool would believe that sand could be turned into gold. Enon took a deep breath, and in a serious, thoughtful voice said, “All we saw and overheard today will serve us well, if we become even more watchful,

knowing now that Fleeog is plotting yet another scheme, another trick. It seems we over-heard parts of his plan. Now we must wait, be alert, and see how this new plot unfolds. Won’t be easy, but we’ve got to try to keep one step ahead of The Wizard.” After saying goodbye to Saren, the three friends quietly left. On their walk back to the cottage, Enon said, “I’m glad you’ve met Saren. We’ll go back again soon. There are so many things my sister and I want to share with you. We don’t want you to think of the cave as a sinister or a dangerous place. Saren and I hope to show you how beautiful the cave really is. But now we need to gather the family and talk over every detail of all we saw and heard today. Let’s hope we can find out enough to figure out this new plot. Yet even more now, when dealing with Fleeog we must be prepared, totally prepared for anything.”

It was late, deep into night when everyone at the cottage finally felt they had command of each and every word overheard in the cave, had asked all their questions, and more than once gone over ideas and guesses about what Fleeog might be scheming. At first, Toby and Belle thought they might merely be bystanders as everyone went over the details. However, their role became very useful, helping the family with details that seemed to match the plan Fleeog had for the cave and the lads in the village. Rannah was first to recognize the value of what Toby and Belle saw in the cave when they entered for the first time with Mennoc. As if inspired, she said: “The Young Ones speak from a future time. They heard from Mennoc about our own Time as a Time-Long-Past, when they entered the cave with their Guide. Yet, what they saw, they saw without understanding. Now here they are in our Time. And because they saw what had already come to , they can tell us things we might never have known. So the Young Ones told all they saw on that first visit with Mennoc. Told the family of hearing about the boy cave-slaves. But even recounting everything Mennoc told them, didn’t explain where the boys came from, why they were there, or what they were doing.

Chapter 13

T HEN ORON SAID SOMETHING THAT made Belle and Toby happily shout out loud. “For hours tonight we’ve talked only of strange goings-on, now I have one more to add. Today, my friend, Janok, told me he saw an old man wandering about the paths these last days, asking if anyone saw the two children he lost.” “It’s Mennoc,” cried Toby and Belle together, jumping up. “Let’s go find him, Oron.” Laughing out loud, Oron waved them to sit down. “Not now, Young Ones, not now. No! Not this night. Tomorrow. I promise. I’ll ask which path the old man walked, and I’ll find him and bring him here… But not now. Oh, No! Surely, not this night. We are truly weary from this long day and this even longer night trying to untie this knot of greed, gold and sand. So sleep well, Young Ones. Tomorrow we welcome Mennoc’s return.” All the adults agreed that the Young Ones might have trouble sleeping tonight, hearing the overwhelmingly exciting news of finding Mennoc. But they were wrong. Separately or all added together, certainly the events of the day had been extraordinary: seeing the breathtaking drawings in the cave, meeting Saren, witnessing Darko and Fleeog’s plot, then hearing about Mennoc. Yet, every event was also as exhausting as it was exhilarating. The three friends were asleep in the warm loft almost as fast as they crawled into their cozy bed mats. Very early the next morning, Belle awoke fully alert, totally wide-awake. She dressed quietly and went down to the kitchen. No one seemed to be awake yet, but perhaps Ojo was, since a fire already warmed the comfortable room. Belle looked around at the homey setting, taking in every detail of this now familiar room. Bunches of fresh herbs hung from the rafters to dry, and their soft fragrance mingling with other household scents reminded her of home. The high small windows of the cottage had no curtains, and bright early light filled the room. The wooden table, in use every minute of the day, was scrubbed so often that the raised curving grain of the wood which Belle traced with her fingers, looked a bit like ripples in a pond. Suddenly, Belle felt overwhelmingly homesick. Of course she liked adventure,

and being here was surely an adventure: it wasn’t that. And it wasn’t just being away from home. In fact, discovering new places, meeting new people were things she truly loved. Especially, she liked seeing in new places so much that was different, yet at the same time, how much was really the same. But right now, in the quiet of this early morning, Belle longed to see her folks. Closing her eyes, she pictured home: her Mom in the garden, her Dad tinkering with this or that, or chatting with a neighbor over the fence. She smiled to herself, ing how her folks always joked with her about being stubborn, about carrying as little gear as possible in her hiking backpack, about always trying to figure out ways to solve a problem, to take charge. “If only” she mused, “I could figure out this problem: how to get back home. L O L with that, Belle,” she ruefully told herself. “We can’t even figure out where we really are, never mind how to get home.” Home, she thought, as she pictured her room, her favorite corner to curl-up in to read or draw or simply to daydream: that’s home. Yet, at this moment, all her memories of home and her folks, the familiar hills she loved to hike, all seemed impossibly far away. Sadly, yet bravely she faced it: What if they couldn’t find their way home again? The thought dropped like a stone in a pond, mingling ripples of thought and worry, until Belle closed her eyes and sadly shook her head, telling herself, “I guess I’ll face that when the time comes.” Everyone was up now, in the kitchen, quietly eating, when Oron burst into the cottage with a huge grin, shouting! “I found Mennoc! And he cried with joy that I knew his name, and when I told him his Young Ones are safe. He knows our cottage, and will be with us for our evening meal. That is the happy word I bring today.” Everyone was glowing with pleasure at the news, grinning from ear to ear. Then he held up his hand. “Now, the unhappy word I bring is this: there is an edict is on the village walls, telling of Fleeog and Darko’s plan for the cave and for our lads from the village” Then in a serious voice, Oron intoned the words of the posted notice he had memorized:

ORDERED BY DARKODEN, VILLAGE CHIEFTAIN ALL BOYS BEFORE APPRENTICE AGE MUST NOW ENTER

A TRAINING PERIOD TO PREPARE FOR MANHOOD LIVING APART FROM KIN 7 X 7 DAYS. TRAINING WILL COMMENCE AFTER THE VERNAL EQUINOX WILL CEASE AT MIDNIGHT OF THE SUMMER SOLSTICE TO BE COMPLETED BEFORE THE CHIEFTAINS VISITING TIME ALL KNOW AND FOLLOW HERON IS AFIXED MY SEAL.

“Well, at last we know his plan” fumed Rannah. “Now, we can plan, too. And Mennoc arrives in good time to help us with his sight of the future. There is much for us to be gladfull, yet much aplenty to be in caution of even now. Yet plan well we must, and plan together we will.” At twilight Mennoc arrived in good time before the evening meal, carrying simple gifts of thanks for the hospitality of Oron and his family: a small stone jug of spirits, plus a round of fresh cheese in a sac from the Market Day. In another cloth bag was a small dog, whose head turned here and there looking alertly around the kitchen at the surprised faces staring back at him. Everyone greeted Mennoc with welcome smiles, especially the Young Ones. His eyes were wet and so were theirs, when finally the greetings ended and everyone sat around the table. “Speak now, Mennoc” said Oron, “much you know to say, and much we have to learn of your time before we met on the path.” So with a small nod of his head, Mennoc began. “First, I thank you, Oron, for finding me and gathering me into the circle of your family. I am forever in your debt. However, before I tell my adventure, Enon, this little pup here is for you. As with all gifts, it too comes with a story. But if I may, I would like to begin at the moment before we fell into your Time.”

Mennoc held out the young pup to Enon, who glowed with pleasure. Giving Enon’s face a sniff and a warm lick, the pup settled into Enon’s arms as easily as if he had always been there. The thoughtful gifts pleased the family. And Enon, gently rubbing his pup under the chin, couldn’t stop smiling. Quickly, Mennoc told his story: entering the cave, seeing the mica-rich cave sand, and telling the two friends the many dark deeds of Darko and The Wizard, Fleeog/Fleea. “The Young Ones,” he continued, “were so upset by those wicked deeds, I suggested they look around the cave for clues to what had happened there. “I asked Belle for The Glass Key she wore around her neck on a cord, saying I wanted to make sure the cord was strong. But I fumbled and dropped The Glass Key, and all of us fell out of our Story-Travels into your Far Past Time here. And I was separated from them in the fall.” “Yes,” laughed Oron, recalling the day of the Young Ones’ arrival. “They fell in the muddy goose pond across the way, and a more miserable sight you could not invent when they came into the cottage. Smelly and dripping wet from the icy, muddy pond, shivering with cold, they were. And as hungry as any two I have ever seen, when my mother put out bowls of broth for them. “Yet, clever they were, not knowing us and being afraid. They made Signs with their hands to each other instead of talk, so we thought them without speech. Finally, they told us of you, Mennoc. That you told them the Legend of the Child-Hero, Enon, and only then did we begin to understand the magic of their arrival.” “But do say on, Mennoc. Where comes knowing of us?” asked Rannah. So Mennoc continued, saying, “ The Legend of the Child-Hero is an ancient tale in my land, told all the days when I was a lad. ‘Tis an oft-told myth love by every growing boy and girl: the tale of the brave Child-Hero, his wise and knowing ways to overcome the wickedness of dark magic. “Yet, stories of brave and noble deeds are often mixed, and also tell of cruelty, of power-lust and dishonor.” And now Mennoc looked seriously at Enon, “You are much in that Legend, my young Hero. And, as told, you have trials

before you, trials that will prove your strengths and your noble nature, more truly than any mere Title you may bear someday. Yet keep in mind, all of you, the story I heard as a lad, was only that, a story.” Having finished their dinner Mennoc clearly saw that the family gathered round the table was eager to hear his full story, so he continued. “Certainly the tale I heard as a lad spoke much true meaning, but parts were invented. Spoken and sung over and over, like all ancient tales, they change with time. Stories shift: parts added, parts lost. One legend meshes with other oft-told myths, very much like a woven tapestry filled with a fanciful scene without a speck of empty space.” Here Mennoc took a deep breath and showed his wide smile, saying, “So it is with your Legend, my young friend. I’ll wager you might not even recognize yourself, if you heard all the magical deeds said to be yours.” Everyone chuckled at the thought, nodding to one another as they acknowledged the truth of Mennoc’s words. Then, as was his way, Mennoc turned to a more everyday event. “While wandering the paths in search of you two,” he began, looking at Belle and Toby. “ I came upon a grandmotherly looking woman tending her garden, and I asked if she had seen you. She looked up to answer but then could only stare at me, saying quite earnestly that I was her own long-gone father come back. “Nay, I told her. I am only a new visitor from beyond the peaks. Still, looking at me with wide-eyes, she said I looked weary, and bade me enter her cottage to rest. Indeed, I was weary, and I gratefully accepted her simple hospitality, a cup of herbal tea and hearty slices of thick bread spread with her own-made jam. “Then, Enon, out runs your pup there. The kind lady of the house said the pup was given to her on Market Day by a Wise-One, who speaks true words. The Wise-One foretold that the pup is destined as a gift for a kindred spirit, and will only follow one of good purpose, who will bestow the gift.” “Well,” Enon smiled, “the Wise One is right about the pup being a kindred spirit. Look! The pup has a spot of red fur on his front paw, so we are true kin.” Laughing Enon displayed his own dark red-skin mark near his thumb. Then putting two fingers on the pup’s head, he formally pronounced, “I dub thee, verily a Kindred Spirit, Pet of the Red-Paw, Limp-Kin Family.” As if

understanding and approving, the pup again licked Enon. Everyone in the kitchen laughed heartily, slapping the table with spirit. “When I saw the pup,”Mennoc said smiling with pleasure, “I took it as a sign that I was near the end of my search for you, my young friends. And after I was refreshed by the tea and bread, the pup did indeed follow me, and only a bit later, did good Oron find me and invite me here. “Now please, I hope you will forgive me if I say Good Night, and return to the cottage where I am a guest. Certainly, I am not the kind lady’s father come back, but I am feeling as weary and sleepy as any grandfather in the village.” As Mennoc was leaving the cottage, Toby spoke quietly, yet urgently to him. “Mennoc, Belle and I need to ask you about where to look for The Glass Key, so we can find it and go home. We’ve been gone weeks now and our folks must be frantic.” Mennoc, put his hand on Toby’s shoulder, “That’s been foremost on my mind, too, Toby. We’ll talk soon, my young friend. I’m certain The Glass Key is exactly where I dropped it. And we’ll find it, Toby, never fear. Most of all I want you and Belle to know that your parents aren’t worried, because we’ve not been away any longer than I promised. In this Far-Past Time where we are now, we’re in a different Time Frame, so to speak. Here, Time here moves at a different pace. I wish I knew better how to explain it, but here Time is different. Never fear, your parents aren’t worried that we’re long overdue.” “Thanks, Mennoc,”said Toby sincerely, “I’ll be sure to tell Belle, I know she’ll be glad our parents aren’t anxious .” Yet, despite hearing Mennoc’s words about a different Time Frame, Toby wished now he had asked for a better explanation to tell Belle. He could almost hear her asking, “How does that work, I wonder? And how did Mennoc figure that out?”

ξ

After many thanks, warm-hearted farewells and wishes for a good night, Mennoc left in Oron’s company on the path, his eyes still wet with happy tears.

“So Enon, what will you call your pup?” Belle and Toby asked almost at the same time. Without a moments’ hesitation he said, “Pup, Pal, Paws, ……‘3P’ for short.” And so the evening ended, everyone glad to have an early night and a chance to mull over all the things that had happened during the day. After the Young Ones climbed the ladder to the loft, Enon said: “Before we start to plan how to stop The Wizard’s scheme for the boys, I want you to be well aware of how Darko will try to use The Visiting Time. The family knows Darko’s ways, knows his many weaknesses, his deep greed for power, gold and honor. And, all of us know full well that Darko is totally bewitched by Fleeog.” Then in a somber tone he seldom used, Enon said, “You are now in this with the rest of us, my friends. And what we now take on, to outsmart The Wizard, Fleeog, will be no simple task.” The friends looked at Enon, then at one another, pledging their help, their faces alight with commitment to the effort ahead: casting-out The Wizard along with his vile magic in all its forms. “I hope my timing is OK,” Toby began quietly, “and I hope you don’t mind my questions, Enon. But just what is it that The Wizard has over all the villagers? What keeps everybody in line… keeps a whole village afraid of him? And why? How come they don’t just kick him out?” Enon, nodded acknowledging Toby’s thoughtful questions. “You ask of many serious things, my friend, questions with long trails of answers. And as I said a bit ago, you both are now in this with the rest of us, so let me tell you of a few events which paint a true picture of The Wizard. You both deserve to know,” he said looking somberly at his friends. “For untold years The Wizard has kept the villagers hostage in lots of ways. Neras was not the first newborn stolen from her family, and as you know, Fleea tried to steal me. So the threat of knowing that The Wizard can do such horrible things without ever being punished, makes many a young family give in completely to The Wizard’s demands. And he demands a lot. First: he claims a hefty tithe from crop sales each year, even in years when crops are poor. Once, when village farmers tried to stand against his demands, he burned their fields just before harvest. After that, not a

single farmer has tried to stand up to him. “The Wizard claims to have turned a poor man into a crow for stealing bread for his hungry family. Now that was a time long before I was born, so maybe that’s only a myth. Whereas how and why he cursed the otter, I do know all about that. You how Saren asked the otter to alert Rannah after Fleea left me in the cave. Well, the otter was once a faithful guard dog, “Woof.” His fierce barking prevented The Wizard’s theft of two fine newborn calves… had a cart ready to take the calves to sell in a nearby village, when Woof raised the alarm. The next day, Woof was gone. Only after we recognized Woof’s familiar voice in the otter’s bark, did we understand what had happened. And that’s only one example of how The Wizard’s dark enchantments control the villagers. Anyone who even tries to thwart him is swiftly, cruelly punished. “Besides his vile acts, Fleeog takes credit for all kinds of ill-fate that befalls the villagers, and the dread he creates by such boasting secures his power. For instance, if a child is born with a prominent skin-mark, or is born sickly in any way, The Wizard claims he caused it to punish the parents for some misdeed against him. Even more, he claims to have his sly-eyed spies throughout the village. Can you imagine never being able to trust your own neighbors, afraid they might be spies for Fleeog?” Toby held up his hand to signal that he’d heard enough. “I’m sure The Wizard’s list of foul deeds goes on and on, but we’ve heard plenty, Enon. We understand completely,” Toby said, seeing Belle’s nod her agreement. The friends were thoroughly revolted by all they had just heard. “Even just telling of his ugly deeds, makes me angry. Yet, it’s good for you to know and understand,” Enon said with a wry, sad look. “Yet, finally, let me tell you something The Wizard doesn’t do, yet is fully blamed. Some villagers spread the word that even Fleeog’s shadow is deadly, so dreadful that flowers die if his shadow falls on them. Well, that’s simply not true. Yet, it says a lot about how deeply the villagers fear Fleeog. Their fear is so vivid, that they even invent things to blame him for, all kinds of demonic magic.” The Young Ones could only shake their heads in dismay.

Chapter 14

T HE NEXT DAY WAS RAINY, with thunderstorms boldly scattering hail and lightening across the hills, adding to the somber atmosphere in the cottage. Enon asked each one at the table to tell the Young Ones the tradition of the Chieftains. In just a short time he reminded everyone, the training of village youth as ordered in the Edict will begin. In addition he learned that Darko was already preparing for his time away in the company of the other Chieftains. “It is only fair,”Enon went on to explain, “that our young friends understand the full story, to be aware of the deep pit of magic where the swirling halos of dark and light might arise to surround them. To know, to be aware, is to be safe.” So each one told a part of the story they knew best, pulling the threads together into a clear picture of the past. Ojo began: “In ancient times, these hills, meadows, forests and valleys were home to ‘the early people’ as they called themselves. Living in widely scattered hamlets, the early people did not mingle for a long time, keeping to their own kind. But over time, as their hamlets grew, their youths found sweethearts in other hamlets, and couples moved to new places to raise their families. Slowly groups merged. “During a period of good fortune, one of the village Chieftains came upon a fine idea: each village would share their knowing ways, their special skills. The Chieftains would travel to the hamlets, learning what each village offered. When The Visits ended, the Chieftains would consider all they learned, and give a prize to the village whose ways best helped their people. Those Visits take time, but the effort is worthy. “A village would choose to invite The Visits or not. Everyone knows how bad fortune can beset a place, thus a village may not be ready to host The Visiting Time. This was to be a helping plan, not one of testing or rivalry. And all new ways are fully shared.” Belle whispered softly to Toby, “There’s a lot to be said for some old customs.” “The Visiting Times, as they are called now, have spread many helpful ways

over the years. Now each hamlet looks with favor on sharing all they know: farming ways and animal care; healing herbs; weaving; thatching and building; even their songs, dances and games.” As Ojo described the “early people,” Belle pictured young couples from the old hamlets bravely moving away to make a new life. Pleased with the thought, she vividly imagined the dances and songs of village children as each village proudly shared their novel ways during The Visiting Times. Could the “MayPole” dances and “Spring Rituals” she’s often read about be part of the “early people’s” ways, she wondered? Now Ania took up the story: “During Darkoden’s time as Chieftain, he changed in many ways that caused sadness to me and his friends. During our early years together he was a kind and thoughtful husband. However, not long after becoming Chieftain he soon became fixed upon winning the prize awarded following The Visiting Times. For a while, those of us close to him tried to steer him from this madness, tried to restore him to reason. But his new desire for praise and honor blinded him. “Now, in his changed, his self-looking way, Darko proclaims he deserves the prize to make up for the ill-fate which has befallen him: our stolen baby, Neras; my accident just before Enon’s birth; and Enon’s injured foot at birth. “Darko consults The Wizard Fleeog about everything, but especially about winning the prize. At all costs he must win, by skill or trickery he cares not, but win he must.” As Ania continued, Toby didn’t say a word, yet his face plainly ed his disgust. While listening to Ania’s words, he shook his head in disbelief as he and Belle shared an appalled look. “Claiming to be the son of a widely feared sorcerer, Fleeog told Darko he learned a long-guarded secret from his father: an ancient rune-spell that turns sand into gold. Darko surely heard of such magic before, indeed, so have we all. Yet, as much as he may want it to be true, I do question if he truly believes such a thing is possible. Darko now appears genuinely mad with greed for gold, still I cannot believe he is stupid. “Saren overheard Fleeog urging Darko not to delay ordering the village boys to dig the cave sand and spread it in the sunny field. Mark this well in your

memory, Young Ones. Darko, a full- grown man of years, yet is almost child-like in his belief of magic spells. Saren heard him ask over and over, how long the spell to make gold would last. After smoothly answering all Darko’s questions, Fleeog demanded a vow of secrecy from Darko about the plan to make the cave sand into gold. “Then Saren vividly described how Fleeog dramatically cast the spell. With his head flung back, his eyes closed, and his arms outstretched high over the sand bank, The Wizard chanted in a deep throbbing voice the ancient, oracular runespell. Forcefully conjuring the secret magical incantation in a loud voice, The Wizard thunderously commanded a harvest of gold.” Oron shouted, “Tell me what to do,” he stormed. “Tell me! And neither one of them…Darko or Fleeog will ever set foot in this village again.” Oron, now a full-grown young man, was outraged. His face proclaimed his rage, simply hearing it all again, being reminded over and over of all the lies from the past, and now the cunning scheme to trap the boys in the cave, Oron shouted “No More.” Enon put his arm on Oron’s shoulder to calm him, his voice warm with understanding, “I know, my brother, I know. All of us, we all know. Yet, our first action must be rapid and sure, Oron. We must match cunning with cunning, making certain not to fail.” Then, full of urgency and determination, Enon outlined the plans emerging from the family’s long talks at the cottage. “Once the Edict is in place with the boys at work in the cave, our first step” he urged “must be swift. We must get them out of the cave, back to their families as soon as possible. Their fathers will help plan the rescue. We must gather all the villagers to help, all must know and approve the plan.” Now Rannah reminded everyone of a special problem the boys would face: the cave water. “There are many tales about that stream flowing quietly in the cave. Some say its water gives the gift to never grow old. Others say, No! It steals years from you, if you drink of it. Some vow it is poisonous. Others say, Not deadly, No ! But surely foul, unsafe, impure.” With words of caution, Rannah warned: “one thing we do know well, the water is of uncertain trouble or danger. We must not let the boys long remain in the cave drinking that water, however foul or unclean it may be. Both Ania and Saren tell of animals wandering into the cave, and after drinking the water lost

their watchfulness, thus were easily preyed upon by the animals that followed them inside. Neither Saren nor Enon ever drank the stream water, but drank from a water drip in one of the small chambers Saren discovered deep in the cave. The boys must be shown the pure water source on their first day. “But even the cave brings gifts,” Rannah said, “And Ania, not one to speak of herself, nor one to be idle, learned to cure the skins of the creatures who died in the cave. And on Market Days over the years, Oron traded many a rare, soft pelt for necessary and plentiful goods.” Oddly, this bit of talk about the fur pelts sparked a clever idea to help the boys escape the cave without being detected. Slowly, as each one around the table turned over every bit of all they knew, they devised a plan: a plan to match their goals. Everyone in the cottage listened intently as Enon reviewed their ideas, sharpening and strengthening their plan. His words were those of a calm, trustworthy leader: thoughtful, urging all to be aware of dangers and risks, to embrace the need for careful planning, while gathering everyone in the village to the perilous venture. Above all, his words were full of hope: hope for all, for a future of freedom. “Our first goal is simple,” he said. “Once the boys are inside the cave, we must help them escape, as fast as can be safely arranged. Delay is risky. Quickly, they must be told about the safe water, warned not to drink the stream water. They must understand the risk.” Then, looking again at Oron, he promised: “There will be time aplenty, my brother, to expose the foul wickedness of Fleeog and Darko. Never fear, Oron. Not for the breath of a single moment.”

Chapter 15

E NTERING THE CAVE WHERE THE boys were waiting, Fleeog took charge a bit earlier than the day set by the edict to begin “The Training for Manhood.” He gathered the young boys to tell them the rules for their training. Thinking Darkoden was already away with the Chieftains, he told the group that he would oversee their work from the start. As proof of their courage and bravery, he said their first task was to enter the cave. How clever of The Wizard: knowing full well that all their lives, from their earliest years, all children heard about the dangers inside the cave, especially about the fierce cave snake, Saren. Clearly, Fleeog wanted to reduce these feisty boys to frightened children, to prey on their fears, with him in command. Not one of the young lads had ever dared to enter the cave before on their own. Now inside the cave, the young boys openly showed their dread, constantly looking over their shoulders from one side to another: each one on the lookout for the terrible snake. Gradually, however, they stopped looking around, and seemed a bit more at ease. The group of young boys 8 to 10 years old, almost a dozen, not yet apprentices, listened as Fleeog described their work: to dig cave sand and spread it in a thin layer over the big empty field outside. On hearing this, the boys’ faces displayed their reaction: they felt completely let down. Was this a joke? How could such a trivial task being described as “Training”? This must be a trick of some kind. Sure, they were young, yet without doubt the boys knew this wasn’t training of any kind. Even more to the point, each one knew full well: they weren’t being asked, they were being told. And despite how let down they might feel, not one would have dared utter even a sigh of disappointment to Fleeog, much less challenge him. So when they entered a second chamber seeing a feast spread to celebrate the start of their training, they quickly forgot their disappointment and were happy to be there. If they had known that this was the last good meal they would enjoy for many a day, the cave chamber would have been as silent as a tomb.

During the first days, the boys were at ease with the simple work, and like young boys everywhere, were noisy, playful, full of tricks. But as they drank the water from the stream on their first days, they became somewhat subdued, no longer as full of high spirits and mischief. Still, they did their job. Now however, they worked more slowly, appeared a bit dull. The Wizard Fleeog was pleased to see how easy they were to control, but he was never one to trust. Oh No, Fleeog trust? Not ever. Just to make sure no one escaped, he arranged that a sorcerer keep a pack of wild hyenas at the cave entrance. No, Fleeog was never one to trust, nor was he one to miss the chance to establish himself in command: a boss to be obeyed instantly, without question or hesitation. He fully ed the boys’ disappointment after learning their “Training for Manhood” was merely to dig and spread cave sand. Of course, he knew they wanted something more exciting, more challenging. “Well, well, boys.” Fleeog sneered to himself as he planned his next move. “If it’s excitement you want, I’ll be glad to arrange some for you. You’ll see. Just you wait.” The very next day, he entered the cave at sundown just before the boys had their skimpy meal. He scanned the group, to find what he was looking for. Clearly, he was well practiced at quickly sizing up a group, in order to choose the one or two who seemed a bit apart from the others. Indeed, he thoroughly enjoyed picking his Chosen Ones, as he called them. Smugly, knowing he was good at it, The Wizard looked forward to playing this game of his, as he thought of it. It was so easy: having done it so many times before, he smacked his lips in anticipation. He reveled in the power it gave him, seeing the face of the One he singled out, as the boy slowly began to realize he was alone, trapped with no place to hide. Best of all, Fleeog enjoyed how simple it was to draw the others into his ugly, mocking humiliation of his Chosen Ones. Really, it was almost too easy, not at all challenging. Once the group realized they could pick on the “tethered Goat,” the game was on. He only needed to stand back and watch. “ ‘Goad the Goat’… Yes, that’s good. That’s what I’ll call the game” he smirked to himself. “Oh, Come on now, really?” he voiced to himself in a bullying tone, as if trying

to persuade someone or justify his so-called game. “There’s nothing wrong with the game, is there? I don’t hurt anyone, do I? Well…. not really,” he mockingly sneered. “I’m simply having fun with two boys, my Chosen Ones. Merely, doing my part in trying to toughen them up. After all, it is “Training for Manhood,” isn’t it? How can anyone possibly object?” Gleefully, he rubbed his hands together, displaying his surly snarl, well pleased with himself as usual. Then laughing, congratulating himself, he continued as he ed, “Besides, this is a perfect chance to find some sly-eyed boys to be my spies.” Fleeog quickly spotted one boy only a few minutes after entering the cave, pointing and shouting for him to step out of the group, telling the others to line up. The boy was more than a little chubby and quite young. Fleeog looked around and spotted another boy, very thin and quite short but not as young looking as the first one he picked. “Yes: These would be his Chosen Ones,” he chortled to himself. Toby was in the group supposedly as one of the village boys not yet apprenticed because he was a visitor. Of course, he was really there not to take part in the actual so-called “Training,” but to witness what would happen. More important, his wanted to get to know the boys, their names and faces so he could partner with them during the escape. He stood well back, eager not to stand out in the group of young boys. Finding a quite low spot on the cave floor for himself and making the spot lower by shuffling his feet deeper in the sand, he hoped his height and older appearance wouldn’t be noticed. “Who’s hungry?” called out Fleeog in a hearty, seemingly playful voice. “We are! We are!” shouted the boys in unison, joking and playful. “When do we eat? What’s for dinner? We’re always hungry.” Everyone was laughing, even Fleeog. “Off to a good start,” he crooned softly to himself. Then Fleeog turned to the chubby boy and asked, “I’ll bet you’re hungry? You look very well fed, boy? What do you like to eat? What’s your favorite dinner?” “He likes everything, especially if it’s somebody else’s dinner,” shouted someone, as others laughed.

Not waiting for the boy to reply, yet still in a friendly tone, Fleeog asked the boy his name. “Oleb,” the boy replied, looking down at his feet with a shy smile. Already ill at ease, Oleb felt embarrassed by the undercurrent of unpleasant, teasing attention to himself and his size. Now Fleeog’s voice changed, took on a sharper, darker edge, not at all friendly as he spoke to Oleb, “Looks like you enjoy your dinners too much, my thickbelly-boy.” “Don’t you think so, boys?” “He’ll eat anything,” called out one boy loudly. Fleeog turned to the others and laughed. “Don’t ALL of you agree?” he said even louder, with pointed emphasis. “Don’t you agree, Oleb’s a thick-bellyboy?” his voice was now an ugly menacing shout, clearly demanding an answer. Uneasily, some boys laughed a little, but most began to shift their feet and look down, anywhere but at Fleeog’s angry, threatening face. Things were changing fast. What was happening? Clearly, they saw Oleb’s complete utter discomfort, and were frankly glad not to be in his place. Now Fleeog turned to the slender boy asking his name. “Thonn,” the boy replied. “Well, Thonn, you look like you could use some extra food,” Fleeog said, pinching Thonn’s thin arm so hard it made the boy wince, instantly leaving a bright red welt. “Tonight, Thonn, you’ll have your dinner plus Oleb’s. He doesn’t need any more food and we’ll put some muscle on you. How about that? Extras tonight. Wouldn’t you like that? Fleeog purred. “I don’t want Oleb’s dinner. Mine’s enough. I’ll grow taller and bigger when I’m older, just like my brothers. I’m just short and skinny right now,” said Thonn in a clear, firm voice. Indeed, he looked confident, sure of himself, strong for his size, despite being thin. Shuffling restlessly, muttering low, the other young boys appeared awkward, clearly confused, uneasy about what was happening. A few laughed a bit when

Thonn said he was skinny, but their laughs sounded uneasy, nervous. Fleeog glared at the group to silence them. A shadow of doubt crossed Fleeog’s face, when he heard Thonn’s firm words. He didn’t like anyone disagreeing with him, especially a young boy. Even more, he disliked anyone of any age daring to openly disagree with him especially in front of others. This boy sounded unafraid and matter-of-fact. Perhaps Thonn wasn’t a good choice. And now, the very idea of his being mistaken or in doubt about himself even for a second, enraged Fleeog. “You’ll eat what I tell you to eat, Thonn. And you’ll keep eating if I tell you to,” and he hit Thonn hard, knocking him down. “And you’ll learn not to talk back to me. Ever!” Fleeog finished in a fierce shout. The boys gasped out loud when Fleeog hit Thonn, uttering groans of sympathy and shock, suddenly alarmed by what was happening. Fleeog flashed his curledlip sneering smile at the group, and he said in a sing-song voice. “Now, Now, little boys, this is Nothing. Just wait ‘til I get really angry. Then the fun really starts. You like excitement, don’t you? Well, just wait. You’ll see.” “Emm,” Fleeog called out to the old woman who cooked for the boys, “bring out some dinner bowls for Thonn.” On hearing and seeing what Fleeog had just done to Thonn, knowing full well that he was next, Oleb began to cry: his eyes streamed tears, his runny nose swelled, his breath came in ragged hic-cup sobs as his chest heaved, his face became red-blotched, his shoulders shook. With every ing second, dreading what was about to happen to him, Oleb’s face was etched with alarm, contorted by the agony of what was surely in store for him. Emm carefully stooped to place two bowls of thin stew beside Thonn. “Now eat,” Fleeog shouted standing over Thonn “you skinny, puny, little Miss Thonn. You’ll need more than this ‘Training in Manhood’ to make something of you. Eat! Eat faster! And you, my thick-belly-Blubber-boy, you’ll watch everyone eat, while you get nothing. Not even a spoonful.” “Now, line up-boys,” he ordered, “get your dinner bowls and come back here and sit while you eat. And pay attention! Watch what happens if you cross Fleeog.”

The group of young boys now totally cowed, did as Fleeog ordered, mumbling and dragging their feet in helpless fear and confusion. Fleeog stood nearer Thonn, and commanded, “Eat, eat faster,” as he pushed another bowl in front of Thonn. Looking at Oleb, Fleeog smirked sarcastically “It’s delicious stew, isn’t it, Thonn! Why, just look at Oleb, standing there licking his lips. Wishing you had some dinner too, don’t you, Oleb? Don’t you want some? Of course, you do. Here, catch!” Fleeog flung a dinner bowl at Oleb, hard and fast without warning. The heavy wooden bowl hit Oleb low on his side, spilling most of the thin stew before falling into the sand. “Oh my, how clumsy of you, look what you did, Oleb. What a pity. Guess you’ll just have to eat it off the sand now. Humm…now won’t that be tasty! It’s so much better with the sand… nice and crunchy. What are you waiting for, Oleb? Get on your knees and eat your dinner. Can’t say anyone here deprived you of your dinner, can you?” Trembling and shaking in shame and terror, Oleb knew he was about to gag. Feeling his throat tightening, he knew any minute now he would throw up. The boy couldn’t move. With his eyes tight closed he wished only to vanish. Feeling thoroughly miserable and alone, he was rigid, paralyzed with fear, as still as a stone. “Move! Do what I tell you” Fleeog screamed, “You clumsy baby, spilling your nice dinner, all over yourself! Who’s going to clean you up now? Not me!” Fleeog grabbed Oleb, who was now pitifully crying out loud. Roughly dragging the boy to the stream, Fleeog pushed him into the deepest part of the stream from an overhanging ledge. Few of the boys in the village knew how to swim, and Oleb screamed in panic, as he sank, thrashing and flailing about in the deep water. Just then, Thonn picked up his bowls and threw them hard at Fleeog, yelling, “Leave him alone. Stop tormenting him.” “Yeah! Stop being such a bully, you coward,” shouted Toby.

“Who said that?” snarled Fleeog, transfixed with rage. He scanned the group, desperate to identify the one who had shouted back. Screaming, his face purple with outrage, he tried to grab Thonn, who was now on his feet. But Thonn was quick. He ran to the ledge and jumped into the stream, stretching out his arms, grabbing Oleb and pulling the sobbing boy nearer the shallow sandy bank. Unwilling to shift focus away from the one who insulted him, Fleeog shouted again, “Who dared to talk back to me? I’ll find out, or I’ll lock everyone of you in this cave forever, starting tonight. I’ll brand each one of you as a thief…you’ll be outcasts forever.” Suddenly it was chaos. Screaming, yelling and shouting, the boys rushed at Fleeog, throwing their heavy wooden bowls at him, hurling stones, kicking sand at him, and fiercely screaming oaths to his face, forcing him to retreat. Stepping into a corner to get away from the boys, he felt a sharp momentary pain in his foot, as if he had stepped on a thorn. But that was the least of his worries now. Putting up his arms to fend off the blows of the heavy bowls and stones while trying to get away, Fleeog lost his balance and fell hard. Now, the boys swarmed to the water’s edge wading in with outstretched arms to Thonn, cheering him, every boy intent on helping him get Oleb to safety. Then, they heard Darkoden bellow! “Fleeog! Fleeog! What is this, Fleeog? Swimming lessons? How clever you are! Teaching our young lads to swim, excellent. What a fine idea! How energetic, how enthusiastic the boys are. I could hear them cheering from outside the cave. I came to see how the work is going here, since my departure to the Chieftains is delayed a bit. Clearly, everything is going very well, Fleeog. I knew I could depend on you.” The lads were still feeling the heart-thumping excitement of helping Oleb and Thonn, as the two domineering men walked toward them. Now Darkoden and Fleeog seemed to tower over the young lads, as Fleeog’s fierce eyes seemed to rivet them in place. Without a leader to focus their energy into action and no crisis demanding their response, the lads slowly slipped back into their familiar docile mode. Without looking at any boy, Fleeog quickly brushed off his clothes, trying to calm his ferocious expression. Hoarsely, he barked the command that the “swimming lesson” was over. “Pick up your bowls now, line up and go to

your bunk chamber. Not a word out of you. And keep well in mind the lessons you learned here this evening.”

Chapter 16

A LL THIS TIME, AS HE witnessed Fleeog’s vicious bullying behavior, Toby saw one positive side to these chilling events. Without a doubt, each and every boy would now eagerly the escape plan. Nevertheless, he regretted that he and Belle and Mennoc had no chance to search for The Glass Key before the boys gathered in the cave for their so-called Training. “When,” he asked himself, “will we be able to look for The Glass Key, now? There must be hundreds of the boys’ footprints all over the cave sand now. I just hope The Glass Key isn’t broken or buried forever.” Now thinking back to his experience inside the cave, Toby was surprised by his reaction to Fleeog. Certainly he was not a village lad scared to enter the cave. Yet he realized how powerfully intimidated he was at the time by Fellog’s aura, by the radiating menace of his chilling threats. Never before had he encountered or witnessed such truculent, contemptible behavior by an adult toward a kid. No wonder the boys were creeped-out, totally cowed by all they had seen. He wished he could share what had happened with Belle, to get her . Yet fully sympathizing with the lads and knowing they needed him now, he put aside his wish to get it all off his chest. Yes, with the escape plan still days perhaps weeks away, Toby realized he needed to focus on what mattered right now. And what mattered right now was how haunted the lads looked: thoroughly helpless and diminished by the things they just witnessed. Before any other step, Toby knew he must help them regain some sense of safety. Quickly devising a plan he clearly knew his first step: first we’ll form a team, pull everyone together into a team and make a plan. If we all work together, as a team, we’ll be able to thwart Fleeog, and break free of his vicious grip. Looking now at the boys, Toby experienced a wave of mixed feelings. The lads looked so young. Their open faces were so easy to read: faces with quivering lips, eyes brimming tears, or faces rigid with tension and wild-eyed fear. Many were still breathing heavily, pulling in deep gulps of air, looking totally lost, frightened. Toby thought he could almost hear their pounding hearts. First, he

needed to help them calm down, help them move past their tense shivering fear, and give them a sense of hope. With a trembling voice one boy whispered so quietly he was almost impossible to hear, “He said he’d brand us, will he do that?” Toby was fully attuned to the boy’s halting, quavering whisper, the fear-ridden dread and anxiety mirrored on the lad’s face. Leaning closer and matching the boy’s soft voice, and looking directly into his eyes, Toby said, “Yeah, the big bully, he sure did say that. But, don’t you worry: we’ll fight back. We’re going to make sure he can’t hurt us… We’re going to unite… All of us…we’ll stand united, band together. We’ll together against him, all of us, just like we did when we rushed him, knocked him down with those heavy bowls, just like we did when we made him run and cringe in a corner, afraid of us.” Now looking around, meeting the gaze of each boy, Toby continued. “He’s a vicious bully, all right, but together we’ll stand up to him, all of us united: ‘All for One, One for All’ as we were with Oleb, as we were with Thonn. There’s only one of him, but there’re lots of us.” Seeing the lads fully attentive now, making unblinking eye , Toby was heartened to see their faces looking a bit less anxious. Then he repeated, “ You’ll see! We’ll unit… We’ll all stand up to that bully…‘All for One, One for All,’ some of the boys quickly nodded, their “Yes”. Then, trying to make light of standing up to a bully, Toby said, “Yeah, when it comes to bullying, I’d like to see Fleeog pick on someone his own size, just let him try bullying Janok, our black-smith…wouldn’t take long to see who’d be left standing. Or just let him try bullying Saren, we’d see who’s boss around here pretty quick” In a fervent tone, one boy piped up “I’d like to see Fleeog bully my big brother, especially when he’s got his pitchfork handy during hay-harvest…he’d get tossed, all right.” “Yeah,” another ed-in, “I’d like to see Fleeog threaten my Dad and uncles when they’re busy butchering with their big sharp knives.” Another one spoke eagerly, quick to forces against Fleeog saying: “Man, I’d even like to see him try insulting and sneering at my mom and my big sisters while they’re boiling weaving yarn in our big kettle…he’d be sorry.”

Some of the boys half-smiled picturing such rallying encounters. All seemed visibly more relaxed now. Nodding their heads, looking at each other, snickering and elbowing each other, all savored the image of Fleeog in those no-win, nocontest scenes. Best of all, the youngsters seemed comforted by picturing Fleeog’s failure, assured that their families were on their side against such a bully. Everyone despised a bully. Now as a sense of purpose, a focus grew in uniting against Fleeog. The lads, one and all displayed a warming confidence, a satisfying sense that justice would be served. Toby was pleased hearing the lads warmly their family’s . Bit by bit, they seemed to regain a whiff of independence and confidence. Clearly, they didn’t feel entirely left on their own, or abandoned. Now, one by one some of the boys turned to Oleb and Thonn, giving them friendly arm punches of . Some swore oaths at Fleeog, cursing him with foul names that surely would have surprised their parents. Yet, the boys might have been the ones surprised if their parents knew of Fleeog’s vile behavior. Perhaps their folks wouldn’t have hushed their sons’ despicable words at all: not even a bit. Even more, some parents might have ed in adding their own outraged curses against Fleeog’s contemptible behavior. Now more relaxed, the boys took turns, telling how they’d like to take revenge on Fleeog. Treat him the way he treated Oleb; make him eat sand; half-drown him; shame him; scare him half to death. Toby added one last thought, “Yeah, but, hey, I don’t want any of us to turn into Sons of Fleeog. One creep like him around here is one too many. Even half–aone like him is too many.” The boys laughed at the thought of “half-a-Fleeog.” Finally, truly exhausted by the events of the evening, the boys found their bunk places and after a bit of restlessness, all were soon asleep. Alone now with his thoughts, Toby too felt both electrified and exhausted by all he witnessed. Still, he wanted to keep track of everything, to every single detail without a blur. Now as his thoughts drifted, he spoke to himself in a low voice. “Mennoc sure was right about a lot of things. Right-On-the-Mark about the risks and dangers of entering the Story, about what we’d learn about ourselves, and that we’d have adventures we would never forget.”

“But, I don’t know,” he puzzled, “I can’t believe that Mennoc really thinks it’s OK to just stand around and watch something terrible happen. He can’t really think that, no way!….… Man! What a mess to figure out. But I know I’d kick myself forever, if I didn’t do something, even if it’s only to yell and swear at a creep like Fleeog.” Just before drifting off to sleep, Toby repeated to himself. “Yep, Mennoc sure got one thing right, we’ll never forget this Story-Travel adventure. And he really did try to warn us, to stay out of it… even if things turned bad. As for learning things about ourselves, I guess I’ll figure that out, too… one of these days.”

ξ

When Fleeog retuned to the fine house he shared with Darkoden, he could see that he had stepped on something sharp, which cut his foot as he backed away from the boys’ furious attack. The heel of his foot was cut a bit, and he easily removed a sharp thin sliver of dark-red glass from his foot. However, more worrisome was the deep purple-red rash that now seemed to be spreading over his body creating ugly raised blisters. By the next day, the rash had faded. Yet, without even carefully looking at his skin, he saw how wizened and shriveled it was, as pale and lifeless as the Demonic Key at his side. “It’s the ‘cave curse’ I heard so much about years ago, ” he groaned. Again, peering with alarm at his deathly-looking skin, he wailed, “I won’t be seen like this. Until this goes away, I’ll stay in my rooms. No one will know of it.” And with a furious oath, he vowed never to return to the cave, less the rash reappear and disfigure him permanently. Now lifting the pale bone Key from his belt, The Wizard seemed to snarl as he mockingly addressed it, pouring out his fury, trying to shift blame onto the Key for his plight. He scornfully scoffed: “As for You, my so-called Demonic Key, the villagers may weave terrible stories about Your Powers, but I know Your Worth. You’re Nothing. You’re nothing but a dry piece of bone from some animal’s abandoned kill. When those little boys attacked and knocked me down, did You protect me? Did You? If You weren’t such a potent a sign of my dark powers, if You weren’t so useful, I’d throw You into the fire and be done with

You. Demonic Key indeed! A Pox on You!

Chapter 17

A T LAST, THE BOYS’ RESCUE was underway: first one step, then another. When she is home during the night of the dark moon, Saren always brought news to the cottage about everything that went on in the cave. Happily, she told everyone that Fleeog never returned to the cave, following that terrible evening of his contemptible behavior toward Oleb and Thonn. Though the boys seemed even more than a bit subdued after all they had witnessed, they still continued their simple work. “A word about Old Emm.” Saren spoke softly with sympathy in her voice, “She’s the only person in the cave each day to rouse the boys for work, to prepare and serve their meager meals….. always a thin soup or mushy stew with little taste and less nourishment. Emm is as thoroughly afraid of Fleeog as the boys. She asks no questions, and is grateful for the few coins she’s paid. She must not be blamed at all,” urged Saren. Everyone understood. Returning to discuss the rescue plans with the family at the cottage, it was unusual for Enon to seem tentative. Yet as he spoke he described a practical problem, which might arise when telling the fathers about their lads. It was essential that the boys’ fathers help with a safe escape: of course, they must be included. In itself, asking the fathers to help wasn’t the problem. The fathers’ reaction was the point where the problem might occur. It was tricky, alerting the fathers about their lads’ situation, without causing them to explode angrily and rush immediately to take their sons home. Hearing this, the Belle and Toby quickly suggested that having both parents in on the planning would help solve that problem. “If both parents know about the escape plan,” Belle spoke up, “everyday they can help each other to stay calm, to focus on their sons’ safety.” Then Toby added, “And when Enon asks for the parents’ ideas and suggestions, having both parents there, he’ll get double the number of ideas to help the escape plan succeed.” Nodding with approval, Ojo said, “A new idea, Young Ones, and a clever one, too.” Smiling, Enon signaled his thanks to his friends, along with all the family.

Nevertheless, Enon and Rannah were still deeply worried about the parents’ reaction when they heard for the first time about their boys’ situation. Of course, both Enon and Rannah hoped for cooperation, but no one could predict what might happen. At first, their worst fears almost came true. After hearing for the first time what was happening in the cave, several fathers jumped up in outrage. Shouting at the top of their lungs, they looked ready to take their young lads home that very minute. Immediately, their wives tugged their sleeves, quietly urging them to sit and listen to everything before making up their minds. With thunderous looks, the men sat down grudgingly, grumbling uneasily all the while. Looking angry and frustrated, their arms crossed tightly over their chest, they vividly displayed their inner rage. Trying to calm all the parents, Enon and Rannah explained that the boys needed time to regain their wits, to become as healthy as they were when they started. “I know it’s hard for you to hear this news of your sons and stay calm. But if any of us, even one acts impulsively, we will surely invite multiple problems. The first immediate problem would be tangling with the pack of wild hyenas guarding the cave entrance.” Hearing about the hyenas for the first time, most of the mumbling stopped, as the parents shook their heads in disbelief. “As of now” Rannah reassured the parents, “the boys seem subdued, not ill really, but not nearly as energetic and sassy as they were at the beginning. On that first day when Fleeog took charge, there was no chance to tell the boys about the safe water. As of now drinking fresh pure water everyday, they are almost fully back to themselves: their frisky, feisty selves.” As they heard more and more, the fear-driven tensions of the parents eased. Slowly everyone began to understand their own vital role: to remain calm, to be practical, and to stay united while working out a safe rescue plan. Then, as planned in advance Enon asked for suggestions in shaping a plan, encouraging one and all to speak plainly and openly. Now realizing they must focus on their sons’ safety, the parents began to offer ideas, very good ideas indeed. Quickly, quietly the parents gained confidence in shaping an escape plan. “There is an old shed on the village side of the field where the boys most likely keep their tools,” said one young father. “The high Ridge Hill Range surrounds the field, and keeps the area well out of sight, but a door could quietly be put in on our side, the village side. All of us can take turns bringing good food to the shed everyday, and the boys can carry it back to the cave in their pails.”

One parent asked “What about the foul water, do they still drink from the stream?” Enon quickly said that Saren has already shown the lads the drip stream and the huge barrel that collects the pure water. Your lads are now recovering quickly. The parents softly murmured full approval. Then, one parent after another called out simple ideas: “Our lads must know about our rescue plans. Then, they can help each other stick together to help the plan work.” “Once they hear we’re planning a rescue, they won’t feel abandoned or alone. They’ll know they’ll be home soon, and that’ll give them hope.” “We’ve got to urge them to carry-on as usual, to play-act ‘til they feel strong again. Remind them: utter not a word nor display a single change …… even a hint of an escape is deadly. If Fleeog found out they would never escape.” For a time the parents were silent. Heavy with the weight of what was at stake, they murmured softly to each other, carefully examining each step of the rescue. Not one of them, not a single one took this matter lightly. This daunting task sobered them, one and all: matching wits with the likes of Fleeog. Confidently, one father said, “Let’s tell our lads we trust them, and we want them to help themselves. We understand they may not be themselves because of the water, but they have not lost all sense.” An older mother added, “And let’s all of us meet together, our hands with theirs in the cave. We’ll bring good food, all their favorites. We’ll tell old Emm she may have the time free and can return in the morning, as it will be a surprise for our lads. We can arrange it all, quietly and quickly.” “And let’s spread word, far and wide, about what has happened to our sons,” a young father energetically spoke up with a vigor that matched how many parents felt. “Let’s openly list all the accursed deeds of The Wizard’s wretched magic. Every year of my memory, Fleeog has been a festering sore, a throbbing boil of fear in our village: keeping all of us silent, dreading his magic. And we all know how to cure a boil, don’t we? Lance it, drain away the poison, and let the healing start.”

Enon hearing the vivid emotion in the young father’s voice quickly reminded the parents, “Yes. We all share your strong feelings. And surely we’ll all spread the word of what we planned here this night, but let us not yet speak too freely of the escape. First, and we must keep this first: we must bring our lads safely home. Let no hint of our plan warn Fleeog, my friends.” The parents nodded, fully understanding the need for patience, for protective silence, and raised their clasped hands in responsive agreement. Ever so slowly, the parents now began to feel a strong new spirit of common purpose. Truly satisfied with the plan, they looked at one another with growing confidence, nodding to one another, acknowledging this unique accomplishment. Sensing that they had forged vital bonds with each other in these last hours, they understood that for the first time in memory, they had united for a purpose: to save their lads. A new beginning was now underway and their deep breaths swelled with pride and determination, even while realizing the untried path they had chosen. Not one ignored the possible pitfalls ahead, yet by ing forces and working together, they resolved to successfully carry out this dangerous plan. Their confidence was inspiring, their energy invigorating, their determination riveting. Then an older grandfather said, “One more idea. Let us call the changes in our lads ‘a cave sickness,’ so that if we are discovered bringing food to the shed, we can say we were merely wishing to help, pretending we’re proud to have our youth train for manhood.” “Yes! Fight Fire with Fire,” another called out. The group quickly murmured full to one another and to the plan.

Chapter 18

O N THE DAY BEFORE THE parents planned to meet with their sons, Enon, Oron and Ania were busy carrying lots of pelts to the cave to make the rocky ledges where the boys slept a bit more comfortable. At the last meeting in the cottage to discuss the escape plans, Toby proposed a unique idea for using the pelts. Surprised and delighted by the clever idea, everyone agreed at once, yet no word of it would be revealed to the lads until the day of escape. After hearing Toby’s idea, Ania said, “Who would have guessed the many ways these pelts have now proven to be so useful and valuable?” Today, as the three carried their heavy loads of pelts toward the cave, they smiled recalling with pleasure the first time they heard about the role the pelts would play in the escape. At dawn, Saren came to the cave entrance to await and welcome her family. When the pack of hyenas saw Saren coiled at the entrance, they scattered like dry leaves in a windstorm, and never returned. Now the cave entrance was clear for the escape. One more detail settled in this quite unexpected way, yet neatly settled it was and welcomed by all. The parents’ plan to have a surprise meeting with their sons was a full-scale success. Predictably, they were deeply relieved to see that their young lads, who had been away now for some time, looked more grown-up somehow. Indeed, their lads seemed a bit quiet and shy, but in no way ill or sickly. What a welcome reunion it was! A quiet reunion to be sure, yet without doubt it was a genuine celebration. Everyone sat on blankets in small family groups, hardly able to take their eyes from each other. After a delightfully tasty feast, Enon briefly listed the details of Fleeog and Darko’s plot. The boys shook their heads in disbelief as they now followed the history of those foul deeds. Gradually they began to feel the weight, the deadly seriousness of their situation. Point by point they realized the impact of all they heard, slowly becoming fully aware that Fleeog would stop at nothing to thwart their escape. And to their credit, not one boy in the group doubted even a word, as Enon listed

The Wizard’s cruel deeds. Hadn’t they seen for themselves the pleasure The Wizard’s took in displaying his raw power over Oleb and Thonn? Some of the boys visibly shuddered at the memory. Completing his outline of Fleeog’s plot, Enon urged the parents and boys to talk together. “Answer each other’s questions about what to expect,” he urged one and all. “Remind each other how important it is to pretend nothing has changed, both for your lads and yourselves. And stay calm, focus on the goals that lie ahead in these last days before the escape.” After a period of quiet talk, the cave chamber was silent as the boys slowly stood, united in pledging their help in every way. Then the parents, too, stood beside their sons, looking into their eyes, vividly displaying their approval. Their pride in their sons, plus their own strong determination, sealed their pledges of full commitment to one another and to the escape. Toward the end of the meeting, Rannah said there was one final step she’d like to ask everyone to do before saying goodbye. She asked each one to mark their wrist with a sunburst sign using the dye-ink, they had brought to the meeting. “Each day,” she promised, “that symbol will be a constant reminder of your pledges to one another, and the bright promise of our freedom and our future.” Rannah winked at Belle giving her silent credit for the creative idea. Now using the little clay pots of dye-ink and twigs, which Enon had asked the parents to bring to the reunion without offering an explanation, parents and lads smiled as they drew sunbursts on their wrists. It was a potent symbol. Stronger than ever, each one felt united in their secret bond to repel the forces of cruel magic and greed, all the while picturing and embracing a new life of freedom.

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In a thoughtful mood, Enon returned to the cottage well before the others. As he reviewed the events of the evening, he was relieved that so much had been smoothly accomplished tonight. And he marveled how the fathers and mothers had united in of the plan. His worry that the fathers might impulsively try to rescue their sons, thankfully had come to nothing. And during the meeting,

he noticed how the couples helped each other remain calm, keep their focus on their sons, and listen carefully to all that was said. Without doubt Belle and Toby’s idea to include both parents in planning the escape made all the difference. “Such a simple idea,” he mused to himself. “Who could have guessed such a fine result?” For some time now, Enon noticed and marveled at the close bond of friendship between Belle and Toby: this was a unique closeness, entirely new in his experience. Here in the village, boys and girls simply would never form close friendships such as theirs. How it had developed, he knew not. However, he recognized that somehow the young friends were truly a team. Often he saw them playfully tossing their ideas back and forth to craft a good plan or solve a problem, clearly having fun, enjoying the process. Without ever hearing his friends speak about it, Enon also noticed they shared everything equally. Being equal seemed to be central to their friendship. Without doubt, his two friends took it for granted. “How did such a friendship start?” Enon wondered. “Could it simply be the way they grew up?” Enon, felt this clear sense be being equal was something they always understood, something they never questioned. “Theirs is a new way: perhaps a new path for us to learn,” he thoughtfully reflected.

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Everyone in the village had learned about of the sinister plot to give Fleeog control of the boys, under the guise of “Training for Manhood.” This was simply the latest in a long list of underhanded intrigues: one more reason to escape Fleeog’s control. Like so many other villages, people here guarded their secrets, the deep secrets that few ever revealed outside their own tight circle. One of those secrets was that Ania and Enon were not dead. Indeed, not! They were living quietly at Rannah’s cottage, very much alive, yet often away for days at a time in the caves keeping out of sight. After all, as the villagers whispered to one another, it was Fleea who spread the word about their deaths. And who among us would ever believe even a single word spoken by Fleea?

Over the years, villagers noted with approval Oron’s thoughtful care for little Neras, patiently waiting in the cave and bringing her home to visit on each night of the dark moon. Now as a young lad when Oron walked the paths on errands for his family, villagers openly greeted him with friendly nods. After some elders heard of his good reputation, one by one they asked his help with small cores or repairs. His good-natured willingness and ready skills, soon earned him the full respect of the villagers. So before long before Oron became known as a problem-solver, a thoroughly reliable lad who could be trusted to enter their homes and hearts without fear. As Oron’s reputation for sound judgment and trustworthiness grew, one family after another while working with him on small chores would pause and look deep into his eyes before softly whispering about their own hopes and dreams. Before long Oron found he could almost always anticipate these moments, and thoroughly enjoyed feeling grown-up and worthy of a family’s confidence. It seemed to follow a simple pattern. While doing some task together, Oron noticed when folks suddenly became quiet they would softly voice their most guarded secret, sharing their yearning for freedom. At first, Oron was somewhat surprised to be taken into the villagers’ confidence. However, after hearing their deepest longings time and time again, he realized he had been appraised and was now itted into their inner circle. A longing for Freedom was the common thread uniting them, one and all. It was no trivial matter that Oron’s integrity was prized, thoroughly valued by all who knew him. He felt honored, and at the same time felt the weight of his responsibility to his village. It was a solemn privilege. Now, as a trust-worthy young man Oron began to learn in turn from the village elders about the past, especially how The Wizard’s sly trickery gained control of villagers years ago. As a young lad, Oron had always been curious about why some villagers lived within the walled area, but none of his friends were old enough to how or when the walled village began. Still he eagerly set out to learn everything he could about the village, grateful now to be rewarded with the story. For Oron, this clearly was a sign that the elders respected him. And once he learned how it all happened, it was no mystery why The Wizard tried to keep the history of his cunning lies so well hidden, buried deep in the far past of the village. Clearly this was a serious matter, not one that the elders would confide to just

anyone: the long unhappy history of the walled village. It was serious, because it exposed details of The Wizard’s robustly deceitful pattern of behavior. And to expose The Wizard’s behavior to scrutiny and repudiation was surely to invite his revenge. As the story unfolded, Oron learned that long ago before there was an inner walled village, The Wizard coaxed families to live in the cottages they would help build inside the walls in exchange for their work to maintain the area. It appeared to be a fair arrangement. Soon however, those who accepted were obliged to work such long hours on the ever increasing chores and projects inside the walled area, they had little time to tend their crops. Required to pay The Wizard a hefty tithe after selling their meager crops, they were never able to save enough to leave and start over on their own. Year after year enduring these burdens inside the walled village, each family, one and all longed for independence. This yearning never left their thoughts. So that when the families quietly learned how the parents of the boys in the cave united to help their lads escape, it became a model for their own path to freedom. Yes! They too, would unite. Now determined, they forged ahead to end The Wizard’s domination. Suddenly, this goal to unite opened their eyes. They would plan together, picture their future anew, and follow-through, knowing it was their path to a better life. In turn, the villagers were emboldened to hold fast their dreams: all the while being fiercely energized to unite. Yes! United, they would achieve independence and end forever The Wizard’s control of their lives. Acting together, the villagers boldly and cleverly meshed their own plan of escape with that of the lads. No time to waste, work must start soon, ending on the last night of The Visiting Time. Their plan was two-fold. First, their plan would visibly the boys’ rescue. Second, in a surprising way it would completely disguise the manner of their own escape from the village. In hushhush voices the shrewd villagers quietly spread word of the second part of their plan, which they knew would be freely rumored and whispered by all, no matter how secret it was said to be. And of course, this was exactly their intention. Their whispers like swift arrows travelling far and wide, quickly reached Darko and Fleeog, who believed every word. That part of the villagers’ plan was fully successful, as the rumors like a sudden rainstorm, touched everyone.

However, the other part of the plan, known only to the villagers themselves, was still a deep secret locked-tight, carefully guarded within their own circle. Oron was deeply moved by the privilege of having one village family after another confide their escape plan with him. He would not disappoint them. He would honor their trust and assist them every step of the way. Yes, here in this village, where fear openly stalked in the form of The Wizard, Oron realized how deep the roots of the villagers’ dream had grown, nourished by constant longing. Within their hearts and minds the dream took shape, came alive, and grew to power. Whenever Oron was welcomed into the inner circle of a family’s confidence, he pledged to one and all he would do everything in his power to help them fulfill their dream. It wasn’t long ago before Oron saw the potent undercurrent of the vast power the villagers were boldly tapping. In a village like this one, where there is very little sign of visible wealth, a secret holds immense value: more valuable than coin, more powerful than a tonic or a curse. Proudly Oron recognized signs of what was happening. A subtle shift in the villagers’ daily chores was a visible link to their plan for independence. Long sheltered as a tightly guarded secret, their dream was taking shape. This dream was the defining concept which now united each one of them in a common effort: Intensely Dangerous; Deadly if Discovered; Breathtakingly Thrilling. The villagers’ determination seemed as clear to Oron as if events were unfolding right in front of him. He saw the links of one event to another. Nothing at all might have happened if the villagers’ hadn’t learned how the parents ed together to rescue their sons. Prompted by the courageous parents, the other villagers’ awoke to the challenge of reviving their own will to escape The Wizard. It was as if all had caught a fever, a raging fever to be free. Yes, casting out ones like Fleeog and Darko forever was chillingly risky. Yet that goal was now alight, ablaze with fervor. Ripples of change seemed to light their way. Now, suddenly, as if a curtain had been pulled aside, the villagers realized they were indeed on their own path, taking one step at a time to independence. In finding their will to thwart The Wizard, the parents had forged a united front that the entire village ired and now gladly ed. For the first time in memory, the villagers sensed the awesome power of unity in their hands. The flame of unity sparked their urgency to carry out their own

escape without delay. Such a feeling of power and unity spurred the villagers to act, as nothing before had ever done. Oron sensed their fierce resolve as vividly as if it had been shouted from every rooftop. Years later when Oron was a mature man, he often recalled the intensity of the villagers during that time. And as ever, wondered if anyone who had not endured such a problem themselves, could possibly understand the villagers’ rage to escape The Wizard’s control?

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One aspect of the villagers’ escape plan was simple, in fact, was deceptively ordinary. Each family would use their own caravan to escape. Ordinarily, when visiting distant relatives for a few days, a family used their caravan, following an old longstanding tradition, common in the scattered hamlets. Travel was easy with a small caravan, since it could house everyone overnight, plus tote the few things they needed. The children especially enjoyed the snug sleeping arrangements inside the caravans, never complaining about sharing the tight space, or sleeping out under the stars on a summer night. Now, the open rumor was widely whispered that the caravans were being cleaned and brightly painted as a sign of the villagers’ contentment. All being carried out especially for The Visitors to note and ire. Proudly, the caravans would circle the big tent set up for The Visiting Time guests in the big meadow outside the walls. Not very long ago however, the idea of quietly taking your caravan outside the walled village would have been unimaginable. No family was ever allowed to depart with their caravan without full permission requested in advance from The Wizard. Even now, if discovered as a way to escape, the consequences would be deadly. Yet under the guise of displaying the fresh brightly painted caravans for The Visitors, all the caravans were now safely outside the walled village: poised, waiting. Besides… What a colorful distraction! Who would ever suspect that the caravans so openly displayed, were really there ready for an entire village to

escape? Standing ready with well-greased wheel-works for a silent departure, the families inside eagerly awaited their lads’ safe return. Once safely inside, all reunited at last, the last step will have been successfully completed. And in the deep sleep hours of the night, all will quietly silently slip away. Never again would they live under the control of Darko or Wizards of any kind. Without a sound, all would silently be off to seek their Fortune and their Freedom in a new place.

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Arranged in an attractive circle, the caravans indeed were a thrilling sight. On the day before the honored guests arrived, the sparkling caravans were all in place circling the great tent where the Chieftains were to stay. When Darko heard the rumor, and saw the new-painted caravans on display, he was more confident than ever that the Visiting Chieftains’ prize would be his. Of course, in Darko’s mind, the prize honored him alone, not a prize that the villagers’ knowing-ways had earned. Rapidly now, the villagers’ plan merged with the plan for the boys’ rescue. As part of the plan, Emm was often invited out to a family for their evening meal. On their own, the boys feasted on the food left in the shed by their families: fragrant, still-warm breads; fresh butter with their families’ own-made jams and jellies; slow cooked rich stews; whole roasted fowl and hearty soups full of flavor. All the lads’ favorite foods: Oh Yum! As planned without undue attention, each day fresh food was brought and left in the shed by the parents. A thin drip-seam in one of the small back cave chambers continually filled the big tub with pure water, always in plentiful supply. Before their meal in the evening, the boys washed in the cave stream, and tried their best to look dull and tired after their so-called work. Yet, with every nod or unblinking stare, they renewed the silent vows between them, their pledge to help each other during the escape. If Fleeog searched their faces now, he would find not even one sly-eyed boy to train as his spy. Toby had taught the lads the Sign for “good luck” and “freedom,” and the boys Signed freely. The days, however, now seemed to slowly, indeed seemed to

drag by, as the boys became increasingly alert and fit. With every ing day, they grew restlessly eager, itching to go home. Nevertheless, now fully sharp-witted and sassy, they thoroughly relished being in on the escape plans. Proud to be trusted with the secret, proud to be depended on to do their part as soon-to-be-young men: they savored this important role. They play-acted without a hitch, each day reminded of their goal whenever they looked at the dye-ink sunburst on their wrists. Finally, the last days of spreading cave sand in the field arrived. Now the time had come for them to complete their most important task. Following Toby’s directions, they would scatter seed on each and every inch of the big field, the very field where they had so carefully spread the mica-rich sand. OH! What a trick! What a joke! And such a simple idea! Seed! Grass seed! Sacks full of plain ordinary grass seed all ready to spread. How fitting that lowly grass seed will totally undo, bring down and make complete fools of the grandiose Wizard and Darko. To grow grass on the field was Toby’s idea, and Enon embraced it. What a cunning way to make a farce of the absurd plan to “grow gold” from sand! Such a superb solution: the boys felt giddy with the trickery, the mockery, and the irony of it. Indeed, lush grass is gold for flocks, but not the kind of gold Darko lusted for. Even the timing was perfect. The boys knew that by the time The Visitors arrived, the field would be covered, completely covered with thick green turf. They could just picture it. Oh! If only they were there to see it! “Now, that will be a sight worth its weight in Gold,” they winked archly to one another. “Oh, if only we could see the faces of Darko and Fleeog when they behold that grassy field! What a sight that will be!” Of course, The Visitors would without doubt, ire the lush pasture, where all the village animals would be contently grazing. The boys laughed and slapped each other’s backs: green, grassy fields, without a trace of “gold-seeds”! They wanted to shout to the skies. Yet, these next days would not be without danger. And both Toby and Enon urged the youngsters to help one another keep their goal in sight. “Keep alert and let no change in your seemingly dull routine attract notice. ,” Toby quietly pointed out, “the final test of your courage and bravery will be during the deep night hours of your escape.”

The parents and villagers, knowing the critical timing of the nighttime escape, spread word amongst themselves that the full moon of this month, now only days away, had been long foretold to be a time of grave danger. They warned everyone: “Do not venture out during that night.” Everyone of the villagers knew very well that the traveling trades people, who set up their tables every Market Day, would hear this warning and spread the word far and wide. No telling who needed to know why the village would be closed tight on the night of the full moon. In order that no one notice a change to cause comment, Toby agreed to return to the cottage, and continue taking the new-hatched chicks to the farm children with Belle. Enon reminded his friends just as he warned the boys. “Make no change in your chores or routine. Nothing must hint at our plan.” Toby said a brief farewell to the boys before leaving the cave, saying that when he saw them next, each one would be wearing a wild animal pelt as a disguise on their path to freedom. The lads playfully growled in reply: one howled like a wolf, others pawed the ground, laughing. As agreed, Toby and Belle brought new-hatched chicks in the soft wool, hatnests to the farm children on the now familiar paths. On this Market Day, as they ed the vendors’ tables, they paused and traded some dried herbs for a small leather pouch as a gift for Ojo: a place to keep her coins. It was a small yet sincere thank you to Ojo for her clever idea about taking chicks to the children as a way for Belle and Toby to learn the village paths. On their way back from the Market, the friends shared a memory of home, one they thoroughly enjoyed. At school last year their Latin Class performed a skit, during which they sang “Yankee Doodle,” all the lines written and translated into Latin by the students. Happily recalling the play, as a taste of home, Belle very softly sang the Latin words as Toby whistled along. He smiled to himself, ing how his Dad always kidded him that he definitely should whistle rather than sing, since he “couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.” Suddenly, the pleasant memories faded, as the two friends saw Fleea in her dark flowing cloak and purple fringed hood, running to catch up with them, waving her arms, signaling them to stop. Trying to ignore Fleea, quickly whistling even louder, Toby tapped Belle’s elbow while g, “On Guard.” As Fleea came

closer, they saw her holding her hands over her ears, screaming: “Boy! What is that hideous piercing noise you’re making? What a horrible sound! Don’t you know it’s forbidden to make such a dreadful sound. Doom will rain down on us. STOP! STOP IT, I SAY! STOP! We’ll be Cursed, I feel it upon me already. It’s killing me!” she screeched. Pressing her hands to her ears, she tried to block out Toby’s shrill whistling. Then she turned and rushed away as fast as she could. Toby grinned at Belle in surprise and softly laughed, “Who knew that all this time, I had a secret weapon against witches?” They both chuckled a bit at that, yet somewhat nervously. Then Belle ed reading of an ancient myth about whistling. “Hey T., reading in Miss Jenning’s class, how a long time ago lots of people believed whistling would call up evil spirits, would bring chaos? And sailors in early times never whistled on board a ship for fear of calling up a storm.” Again they laughed a little. Nevertheless, the thought of drawing Fleea’s squint-eyed attention to themselves, was no joking matter. They hurried back to the cottage.

Chapter 19

W HILE TOBY HAD BEEN AWAY with the boys in the cave for a few days, Belle felt at loose ends. So she welcomed the chance to teach Sign Language to a young deaf woman in the village. Belle relished having something worthwhile to do, not just to be busy. Mila was a lovely young woman rather shy, who rarely ventured on the paths, so Belle met her for the first time. Mila’s family said they believed that as a little baby Mila could hear, but that she seemed to be totally deaf not long after she was old enough to walk a few steps. Now as a young woman Mila was silent, since never hearing words as a child, she didn’t learn to speak. And the villagers in that Far Past-Time simply accepted Mila’s plight as something unfortunate yet familiar. The rumor of Belle and Toby using Sign, “hand-talk,” as the villagers called it, spread almost overnight after they fell into the goose pond. The sudden arrival of the Young Ones was told and re-told, always with their “hand-talk” vividly displayed. Each one who told “the story” about the Young Ones’ “hand-talk,” took special pleasure using their own hands to imitate the exotic, never-seenbefore gestures. By luck, the novelty of “hand-talk” totally distracted the villagers from the baffling enigma in their midst: the mysterious sudden appearance of the Young Ones. When Mila’s mother shyly approached Rannah, to ask if Belle would kindly teach Mila to “hand-talk,” she told Rannah sincerely, “Your Young Ones brought with them a most special gift, one unknown to our village. Our family hopes this gift will help our Mila.” Delighted with such a request, Belle started the next day without delay. She met with Mila each day for a few hours, along with Mila’s young twin sisters, who ed the sessions so they could all “hand-talk” together. The three could not have been better learners: actively attentive, all three were intensely engaged in the process. Gifted with an excellent memory, Mila mastered Sign very quickly, as fast as Belle could introduce new words and phrases. Mila along with her bright, eager

young sisters practiced tirelessly. Belle had never taught Sign before, however when she studied Sign at various times, she had never witnessed such rapid progress in any classroom. As part of learning new words, Belle and Mila walked into the walled village or along the outside paths, where Mila nodded her greetings to villagers. Especially, she smiled and nodded to her mother’s friends: family friends she had seen at home for years. Everyone who knew Mila enjoyed seeing her on the paths, making neighborly , and the villagers shyly nodded a friendly greeting to Belle in appreciation. The villagers recalled to one another that it wasn’t long ago that Mila had kept to herself at home, rarely venturing out. Now, seeing Mila on the paths with Belle was a welcome change, a pleasant item to tell friends. And, not one villager failed to notice the familiar, kind-faced young man, Lehn, who was often at Mila’s side these days. As was the custom, the villagers quietly nodded their approval to the young pair. For years, Lehn was a familiar person in Mila’s life. As an apprentice to Mila’s father, Lehn saw her almost every day, when he met with Mila’s father before walking to the farms where they helped sick herd animals or ones recovering from an injury. Almost all the villagers were farmers, working small plots, and most owned at least a few herd animals. Mila’s father and Lehn visited almost every farm at some time during the year, where they often worked long hours with an injured or sick animal. Lehn was exceptionally strong, a valuable asset when working with large animals, some weighing more than five men together. Calm and thoughtfully serious, Lehn surprised Mila’s father on his very first day as apprentice, when Lehn asked the farmer whose cow they came to help: “By what name do you call her?” Asking about an animal’s pet name might have seemed a childishly trivial question. However, Mila’s father saw how quickly Lehn calmed the frightened, agitated animal simply by repeating its name, while softly stroking its head, or scratching a spot behind its ears. “What a simple, safe way to approach a wary animal, and gain its confidence! My apprentice brings his own new way to our work.” Ever after, Mila’s father noted the humane way Lehn treated all the animals they attended. “A new day, a

new way,” Mila’s father smiled to himself, happy to have such a fine apprentice. Lehn was devoted to Mila, long before he could hope to walk with her on the village paths. Immediately, he understood the gift of Mila learning Sign: a treasure for each of them. It wasn’t long before Lehn and Mila were g easily to each other: both eagerly sharing new words, and soft glances.

Chapter 20

A T LAST, THE LONG AWAITED Festival Day arrived, signaling the day before The Visiting Time. Quickly this Festival Day became a tradition highlighted by the Bard’s arrival. A small crowd gathered early in the Market Day area, where a few villagers were already playing panpipes or rhythmically tapping on small drums, as children ran around playing games. The Bard arrived in a bright caravan colorfully painted with celestial signs and symbols: stars in a vivid dark sky, a brilliant sun and moon, with fanciful shooting stars of all colors. Within minutes after arriving, the Bard and his young helper had set up a small stage-like platform, cleverly re-arranging a few painted s from inside the caravan. Skillfully strumming a lute-like instrument, the nimble Bard skipped up onto the small mock-stage, and began to entertain the eager villagers. Instantly, the crowd hushed as the Bard began to sing the familiar tale of finding his way to the village. His chant praised the high spirits of everyone he met on the roads as The Visiting Time rapidly drew near. Half-singing, half-chanting verse in a clear, melodic voice, the Bard was clearly well trained: his songs were filled with familiar puns and jests to amuse the crowd. He sang of dramatic and comical encounters along the road to the village: of thieves with swords of fire the Bard put out by spitting; of secretly watching bears by the dozens celebrate the wedding of a Bear Bride and Groom in a clearing deep in the woods. The Bear Wedding Song was a favorite. The Bard’s song described the bears, which seemed very like the villagers, wearing fancy wedding clothes and dancing on two legs with frisky partners. His well-known song playfully highlighted the frolicking bears in a clearing, while other guest bears sprawled on the ground already sleepy from too much feasting and drink. The happy crowd slapped their legs, laughing and clapping, singing along as they pictured the bears at a wedding in fancy dress, nimbly dancing in the woods, robustly feasting and celebrating. Every face watching the Bard was a study in pleasure and open-mouth delight at his performance. Especially attentive were the children who sat on the ground as

close as possible to the little stage, their wide-eyed faces following every gesture, every word and tune of the Bard. As he sang, the Bard scanned the crowd. In some verses he would bow to a matron, tip his hat, wink or throw a kiss to a young maid. He made the crowd of children shriek and giggle calling them rude, naughty names, wagging his fingers at them in mock scolding. Belle noticed the Bard’s eyes flash wide in surprise when he saw Mila and her sisters using Sign. Instantly she wondered if by chance, this was the Bard’s first time encountering Sign in his far-flung travels? Then a most unexpected turn of events occurred. Darko ed the happy crowd enjoying the Festival listening to the Bard. Darko had returned to the village a few days in advance of the other Chieftains, to make sure all was ready. On seeing Darko, the Bard quickly put aside his lute, and signaled his helper to bring out a large object covered by a long cloth. Suddenly the crowd became silent and curious. Now holding the large covered object, and looking directly at Darko, the Bard having abruptly stopped his song, now changed his voice to that of a dramatic stage-actor. Projecting a deeper, full-throated, rich speaking voice, he formally welcomed Darko. Turning aside for a second, the Bard snapped the cloth from the object he held, and turning swiftly, he faced the audience holding aloft a huge Mask. The crowd gasped at the sight. The Mask had a startled face with open mouth and fierce staring eyes. Wild hair surrounded the face with thick, unruly waves, looking like rays of the sun or like stormy-wind-driven strands of coarse twisted hair. Suddenly, it seemed the Mask itself was speaking, the voice issuing from the Mask’s lips was that of a forceful commanding voice, addressed its message directly to Darko. Clearly, no longer that of the Bard, this voice was of one in authority, a throbbing, booming voice: The Voice of the Mask. “Now, at this moment when the sun casts no shadow, can I speak,” intoned the Voice of the Mask. As if by magic, a cloud briefly hid the sun. “Only when the light of the noonday sun pierces my lips, entering and glowing through my open lips, only then, am I given power to speak. Yet, none other than

words of Truth am I allowed to utter. “In your fine house, Oh, Village Chief Darkoden, there is a deep, well-hidden Vault, closed and locked fast. Nor yet has a key been found to open it. For many long years, yea, for years too long to count, the Vault Spirit awaits inside: tight closed, locked away. How many years to know or count, how long in darkness, shut against the light? Alone the Vault Spirit awaits. “On this day before The Visiting Time of the Chieftains begins, the Vault Spirit who guards its long hidden Treasure-Trove, would have you enter Darkoden. Yet, none but an Innocent One may open the Vault. An Innocent One such as the maiden, there,” said the Voice of the Mask, as the Bard pointed to Mila. Mila, of course, could not hear the words spoken by the Bard, but when saw him pointing to her, she pulled back, retreating, seeking to avoid such public attention. The Voice of the Mask continued. “A Wise One of many years will bestow keys to the Vault, Oh Darkoden, but only into the hands of this Innocent One. Do you trust this Innocent One to accept the keys to the Vault? Do you vow to let the Treasure-Trove work its magic on your heart? Speak only true words, Darkoden. Speak your answer to the Mask.” Though Darko had been listening closely to the Voice of the Mask, he had actually paid attention to two words only: “Treasure-Trove.” It seemed to Darko as if no other words had been uttered by the Mask. Those words, those two alone sang in Darko’s memory. “What a Wonder!” Darko thought, as he imagined a wealthy treasure-trove. “An undiscovered Treasure-Trove in my own house: a hidden Vault deep in my own house.” The vision of the riches he pictured almost left him breathless. “Yes,”Darko answered. “I vow to trust the Innocent One to accept the keys to the Vault.” “What is all this?” the villagers began to ask each other. Turning one way, then another to look first at Darkoden and then at the Mask. “What’s going on?” they kept asking. This odd unexpected exchange between The Mask and Darkoden totally puzzled the crowd: “What did it all mean?” The Bard put aside the Mask as suddenly as he had brought it out, breaking its spell and briskly restoring the Festive Day mood, clapping and dancing a lively

jig. Quickly, the crowd happily returned to the familiar songs and Festivities. Smoothly resuming his role, The Bard once again beconed the crowd to tap their feet to his music, to his song. Darkoden politely approached Mila, inviting her to him as he walked toward his fine house inside the village walls. Mila did not understand what was being asked of her. Mila was kind-hearted, yet when Belle Signed explaining the role the Bard had singled out Mila to play, she wanted no part of it. She was adamant. She wanted nothing to do with any plan to find Treasure in Darkoden’s Vault, even if he was Village Chieftain. Mila, Lehn and Belle were now standing well apart from the festival crowd trying to decide what to do. Slowly, a grandmotherly woman approached and greeted Mila with a smile and a friendly nod of her head. She looked at Mila, but spoke to Belle and Lehn, as if she knew Mila could not hear her words. “Tell Mila the treasures of the Vault are not of earthly riches, but are things that may touch Darkoden’s long arid-heart. The sight of things in the Vault, may warm his cold-spirit, may soften his stone-hard-heart. That is the true meaning of the treasure–trove in the Vault. In your hands Innocent One I place the keys. Open the Vault, and reveal these rare gifts to Darkoden, such a one who has not even one true friend, lo these many years. Take these keys to the Vault, Innocent One. You will find no danger there. Go in the company of your loving friends, safe in their circle beside you.” Without another word, the woman seemed to vanish. Mila held two keys in her hands: one was a large golden key crusted with bright colored jewel-like stones, the other key was a small plain key of tarnished brass. Mila and Belle rapidly Signed back and forth as Mila poured out her questions. All the while, Lehn stood quietly at Mila’s side attentive to Belle’s words and to her Sign replies to Mila. Nodding, he easily followed their exchange. Finally, Mila agreed to open the Vault, but only if Belle and Lehn never left her side. Darkoden welcomed the three friends to his fine house. Carrying a flaming torch, he led the way down a dark age, and down an even darker set of steep steps that ended at the door to the Vault. In the torch’s flickering light, the carved circular walls of stone that enclosed the steps of the age seemed to waver forbiddingly.

When Darko saw the door of the Vault, he vaguely ed having once seen this heavy ornately hinged door to the Vault. Yet having neither handle nor door knob, only a keyhole, it seemed simply a door that led nowhere. Without doubt a strange place for a heavy, elaborately iron-hinged door, but perhaps it was nothing more than a builder’s after-thought to end a age. Still, no matter the purpose the door served, Darkoden could hardly contain his curiosity. As Mila chose the large key that seemed to fit the size of the Vault keyhole, the lock turned easily without effort, the door opened silently as if well oiled. After they entered the room, the massive door closed behind them with a dull thud. Inside the Vault, the air was very cool and dry, and as their eyes grew accustomed to the wavering light of the torch, they beheld a most unexpected sight, an almost familiar, home-like welcoming sight. The large room looked old-fashioned, as if once someone’s old-fashioned bedchamber or perhaps a children’s nursery. A long white gown and soft robe hung from a fancy hook near a large beautifully carved wooden cradle. Lovely embroidered baby clothes hung near the gown and robe, as well as pretty clothes for a small, but older child. A large chest was open and appeared filled with neatly folded linens or clothing. Arranged around a small table were colorfully painted chairs, small and low suited for use by small children. The table was set with small cups and plates, as if tea was about to be served. Two small hand-made dolls lolled in an open cabinet, and wooden toys lined the lower shelves. Then, as they stared, a strange event occurred. The gown and robe, as if worn by an invisible figure, seemed to float away and began to move, to waltz to some distant music. The arms of the robe seemed to cuddle a small baby-size bundle, wrapped in a soft blanket. The cradle gently rocked, and the toys became animated and moved as if in play with an unseen child. Even the dolls’ eyes seemed to move a little as they sat up straight. Mila, Belle and Lehn were thunderstruck in amazement, staring wide-eyed at all before them, feeling as if they were somehow watching a bit of magic on a stage. Open-mouthed with amazement at the sight, yet the three were not frightened at all. The familiar setting was as peaceful as any children’s room they knew. Suddenly Darkoden cried out: “Take them away! This is no treasure! These

things all speak of my shame, my failures. Everything here mocks me… everything I see here points the finger of shame to my dishonor… a bitter reproach for all I’ve lost, all I abandoned…all empty memories…all gone, forever gone from me. Take it away. I cannot, I will not bear it.” He moaned and wept. Then quickly turning, he furiously attempted to sweep away everything in the room, his voice a hoarse whisper, still ranting. “All dead and gone. All ruined memories” he sobbed. He seemed unable to stop. “All Ghosts! No Treasure-Trove at all. Ghosts, only Ghosts haunting my memory, all ghosts of my lost life. Take them away!” He screamed and fiercely rambled on, livid, like one possessed. He grabbed at the swaying clothes as if to push them away, but at his touch the clothes fell into dust, as did all he touched in that room. Wailing aloud now, Darkoden was kneeling on the floor, touching the dust, as if to gather it, to restore it in some way. Of course, Mila had not heard the words Darkoden cried out. Nevertheless, she clearly understood everything etched on his weeping stricken face: his pain, his turmoil. She touched him gently on his shoulder to comfort him, accidentally touching the gathered dust with her shoe. Instantly, the dust returned to their original forms: the clothing, the cradle, the tea set on the table, the toys: all restored, all back in place in the Vault room, exactly as they had found it. Darkoden’s wildly shifting emotions suddenly exploded from grief to anger, completely out-of-control. He roughly grabbed the jeweled golden key from Mila as if to fling it away, and as with all he touched the key turned into dust. Only this time, the dust vanished. “You fool,” shouted Lehn, losing his temper, aghast at having failed to protect Mila. “You destroyed the key to the Vault door. How do you think we’ll leave, now?” Suddenly afraid, Darkoden ran to the massive Vault door, pounding, shouting and screaming for someone to open it. As he reached for the door handle, only then did he seem to there was no handle, no doorknob, only a keyhole. He wilted into a heap. His wild, raving outbursts had drained him. He was limp, his energy and rage now gone left him empty, as helpless as the toy

rag doll on the shelf. Suddenly aware of what he had done, “We’re doomed!” he whispered hoarsely. “We’ll never get out now! How could I be so stupid? We’re entombed in this Vault, all because I wanted gold and jewels. Not a Treasure of Memories. What….. What have I become?” Darkoden rocked back and forth on his knees, sobbing, hitting his head with his hands in a frenzy of despair and self-loathing. Clearly, Darkoden would be no help in trying to solve this dilemma. Belle shook herself out of the drama she was witnessing into another frame of mind. She stepped gently toward Mila, g. She asked Mila to allow her to try opening the door, holding out her hand for the plain tarnished brass key. With a bewildered look, seemingly as dazed as Belle by all she just beheld, Mila nodded, Yes, ing the plain key to Belle. The three friends looked at each other wide-eyed, with but one question in their thoughts: what might happen next? Taking yet another deep breath, Belle put the simple brass key into the small keyhole on this side of the door. The tarnished key seemed to fit. Now holding her breath, and looking at her friends for , Belle closed her eyes and turned the key. Slowly and smoothly, the massive Vault door swung open without a sigh of a sound. “Let’s get out of here,” Lehn instantly whispered with relief, putting a protective arm around Mila’s shoulder. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d leave Darkoden in there and close that door.” But, grunting with the effort to move Darkoden, Lehn dragged the still limp, sobbing Chieftain to the steps outside the door and closed the Vault. The three friends raced up the dark steps and quickly left Darkoden’s fine house. Relieved to feel the warm setting sun on their faces, their thumping heartbeats alone reminded them of Darko’s weird, scary behavior they had seen only minutes ago. The three friends hugged goodbye, while Belle watched as Mila and Lehn arm in arm happily hurried away. Belle hurried too. Her mind racing as she ran along the path to Rannah’s cottage. Tension still gripped her, and her legs seemed to be trembling uncontrollably. Fixed on returning to the cottage, she ran as fast as her shaking legs allowed. Belle simply wanted to feel safe inside the cottage, to be alone and slowly take in all the riveting events she had just witnessed.

Arriving at the cottage out-of-breath after running, Belle was pleased to have some time by herself in the loft. More than anything else, she needed time to go over the details she had just seen in the Vault. Especially, she wanted to quietly review and slowly go over Darko’s strange reactions to the things he saw in the Vault. Thoughtfully Belle mused to herself, “That Vault was just mostly full of nice, old-fashioned children’s things, yet he looked like he was seeing ghosts…and Man, he sure acted haunted…couldn’t stop blaming himself, saying everything in the Vault shamed him…he sounded hysterical, as if everything he saw made him feel guilty, accused him. What was it about those things in the Vault that got to him, brought him to his knees, crying? What’s THAT all about? I wonder what will happen next?” Yet after a few minutes, like a mantra she kept repeating to herself: “Just wait ‘till Toby and Enon hear about this.”

ξ

Darko slowly regained his sense of where he was and what had happened. Soberly he said out loud to himself, “What happened here is surely a SIGN… a SIGN telling me I am lost if I fail to see how far I’ve abandoned my path, if I fail to see who I’ve become. I alone am to blame for all of this, for all that has come upon me, for who I am now. I alone drove my dear Ania from me. I alone lost my son, Enon. This SIGN shows my future: I’ll be alone and without hope unless I change. I will… somehow, I will. I must find my path again.”

Chapter 21

T ONIGHT, THIS LONG-AWAITED NIGHT, IS the night before the full moon of Summer Solstice, the very last night before the boys’ escape from the cave. At the cottage, every detail of the plan but one is in place, like the pieces of a giant puzzle finally revealing a complete picture. One final detail remains to be arranged by Enon: then all will be ready. Each one at the cottage went calmly, quietly about their tasks as if this were an ordinary evening. Yet, perhaps without actually attending to it, each one kept their own tally of time: counting their steps or their breaths. Each one felt as if Time itself stood still, poised, waiting to begin. Before leading the boys out of the cave tomorrow, Enon carefully reviewed the essential tasks he must carry out this very night. With a glad heart, he looked forward to being fully occupied for the next few hours. Now smiling to himself, he did not hurry. Savoring these next few hours, he welcomed the tasks ahead. Stepping easily and eagerly into the shadows of the nearby forest, his firm steps made no sound, muffled by the deep leafy mulch of the forest floor. For Enon this was truly was a happy task, one he whole-heartedly embraced: a task he and he alone could carry out. Time and time again over the years he had met and spoken with his woodland friends, without ever asking a favor of them. Now however, he was pleased to know he could ask this favor and confidently rely on his woodland friends to agree. He was grateful that over the years they had forged enduring bonds of warm-hearted friendship. Tonight would crown those efforts. Once in the deep shadows of the woods, he called out in a friendly voice the words that all here understood. He welcomed and summoned all the night creatures of the forestwoodland, his innumerable friends. Quickly they gathered to hear him, the countless nighttime creatures and singers of the fields, ponds, meadows and woods. Their numbers filled a vast clearing in the woods. When their rustling arrival finally quieted, Enon smiled a welcome to one and

all, courteously addressing them, looking directly into their eyes and attentive faces: bull frogs, spring peepers, tree frogs and toads; screech owls, barn owls, great horned owls and all their kin; loons and numerous night birds; bats, fox, martens and weasels of all kinds; flashing fireflies; and crickets….. lots and lots and lots of cheerfully noisy crickets. Enon relished speaking to his wildlife friends in their own language, the priceless gift he had been given by his sister, Saren, when he was a newborn infant. He spoke respectfully and humbly to all the gathered clans in the ways they well understood and trusted in his manner. In a tone both friendly yet serious, Enon briefly outlined the details of the escape plan for the boys: inviting them all to in the rescue plan. He asked the gathered clans for their help in two important ways. First, he pointed out that their usual night sounds and singing would help mask any noise the boys might make as they through the woods. Second, if they would continue their calls, chirps, and nighttime sounds without pause during the dark hours, their familiar trills will signal throughout the area that no one stirs. Whereas if they became silent, even for a short time, someone might wonder, open their door, look about, and ask, “Who is out and about? What are they doing? Where are they going?” Enon emphasized, “We want no one outdoors that night, even out of curiosity. No one must interfere with the boys’ rescue.” The night critters cheerfully chittered and thrummed their willingness to help in a loud, trilling chorus. Hearing their instant, energetic response, Enon smiled happily, his eyes filling with tears of gratitude. He sincerely saluted them one and all. With his hand to his head he thanked them over and over with a full heart, bowing gracefully, gratefully. Now for his last and most important meeting of the evening, Enon again joyfully entered the dark wooded realm of deep peaceful stillness: a world of damp mossy woods and shallow pond edges. Here he greeted more friends, the numerous silent clans of snails and slugs. Once again he carefully outlined the rescue plans, asking the group for their help, appreciatively reminding them that only they could do this work. “My request may seem simple, but it is essential to our rescue efforts. Please spread your silvery trails early and thick tomorrow night, the night of the full

moon. Yours trails will be our paths to freedom: will light our way, as surely as beacons shine upon water. The boys will follow your glimmering lines, guiding them to safety as they try to move without a sound. As bright as a silver stream your trails will shine in the light of the full moon. Most especially, your shimmering, glowing paths will be essential as the boys cross the edge of the deepest woods before ing their families in their caravans.” Solemnly, in the soft, fragrant air of the moist woods, the clans silently listened. Quietly, alertly they listened, waving their moist eye stalks ever so slightly to show they followed each and every word of Enon’s sincere, respectful request. Then after turning slowly to look at one another, and then at him, they ever so quietly bowed their heads in agreement. Finally, one by one they each waved their slender graceful moist eye stalks, sealing their silent pledges. Enon easily read their serene signs, and gracefully bowing sincerely thanked them, his heart filled with deep gratitude. With a sigh of relief, Enone was now at ease: content, knowing that all was in place. Then in turn, the silent clans of land snails thanked Enon: sincerely signaling that they were most honored by his invitation, proud to be part of such a noble human plan. Their silent approval seemed to glow in the deep forest night.

Chapter 22

F OR DAYS, DARKO HAD BEEN traveling with the other Chieftains from village to village. Very soon now the group would arrive at his walled village to judge its best ideas and observe the life of the all the villagers. Until now, Darko was absolutely sure that the prize was his. Just days ago, he was so filled with confidence he almost strutted. That is, until his spirit was shattered and crushed by all he had seen and experienced in the Vault. Now though he sincerely wished to change, he felt drained: world-weary, a miserable failure. Yet, try as he may to push his miserable feelings aside, Darko found himself unable to rally. He felt but a shadow of his old confident self. In the Vault, he was reminded of all he had lost, his true self was revealed: his greedy, unloving past. Yet now his wounded self-pitying habit seemed to creep back into place. He felt lost, not knowing where to start on his new path. He found change was neither easy nor simple. He urged himself to think only of the glory of having the prize: telling himself nothing else mattered. He told himself that having the Prize would restore his position without question. Yet nothing worked. His only hope, he told himself, was to go through the motions with the Chieftains. Unable to shake off his despair, he felt an uneasy restlessness, a brooding sense of loss: cast adrift like a ship without rudder or anchor, without com or destination. Most oppressive of all, he found himself totally alone, without a single friend. However, Darko was not alone with his gloomy, downcast feelings. The Wizard, Fleeog was haunted as well by a sense of impending disaster. The Wizard was beset by a morose sense of doom, feeling that nothing was the same since his magical glass eye was stolen from his bedside table. He knew perfectly well who stole his glass eye, and he’d get his revenge soon enough. Yet oddly, even the pleasure of seeking revenge failed to cheer him. Surely that was a sign his world was crumbling, even worse, he felt helpless to prevent it. Now countless memories of his vile past flooded his mind, bitter reminders of his habitual, thoughtlessly cruel behavior. No, he could no longer pretend that his viciousness was simply bad fortune for his victims, as he had so often done

in the past. Nay, that long trail of hate-filled memories clearly displayed his twisted willfulness, his craven desire to seek power and control by being cruel to those who were weak, or helpless. His game tormenting Oleb and Thonn had almost turned into a riot. Merely a troublesome fiasco, he tried to tell himself if that had occurred. Yet deep inside he knew that a riot would have been far more than a troublesome slip. So ever since the near-riot, lest the boys band together and truly revolt, he avoided the cave altogether, hid from mere boys. How humiliating! Nevertheless, he knew the real reason he was in hiding. His vanity would not allow him to appear in public looking so changed, so grotesque. Yet another humiliation! However, none of his contorted attempts at denial or blaming others soothed him. Every attempt to dodge his role in these miseries failed, and those memories relentlessly chewed and gnawed at him. Self-doubt haunted and plagued his every waking thought. He felt himself going mad. Now he braced himself for the final catastrophe, the one he always knew would occur. Any day now, his ridiculous plan to grow gold from sand would be revealed as a childish hoax, a complete and utter absurdity. If he didn’t disappear soon, he would be exposed as a stupid fool. How could Darko believe that he could make an incantation to change sand into gold? Nevertheless, this was simply one more failure highlighting his shrinking powers, revealing beneath his façade his weakness, his powerlessness. “How can this be happening?” he wailed, shaking his fist in the air: as ever, unable to take even a blink of responsibility for his foul deeds. From the start, he had planned to be long gone before the hoax of turning sand into gold became apparent. Yet, he never expected to actually feel his powers diming, or feel his confidence evaporating. Soon, very soon he must flee, must disappear, if only his powers remained long enough to allow his escape. Why, even that silly little spell he put on the sundial failed, utterly failed to slow Time, to give the gold seeds more time to grow, as he told Darko. Yes, even so small a spell as that failed. Suddenly, he actually felt weak and sickly. Now frightened for the first time in his life, he felt the despair of being helpless. Because his glass eye was gone, he now wore a patch over his eye and kept to himself, too proud to seem less fearful without his glaring glass eye. Yes, one

more sign that his magic was fading, fading fast. If only he could stop these thoughts from circling over and over, round and round in his mind. At the very least he tried to comfort himself in knowing exactly who had stolen his glass eye. Without doubt it was the Crow. Yes, even without seeing that thieving Crow, he recognized its mocking caw as it flew out his window just after dawn. No doubt about it, it was the Crow. Oh, Yes. He knew that Crow very well. After all these years, the Crow had at last revenged himself on The Wizard. Long ago, the Crow had been a very poor man, who was caught stealing bread for his family. Unfeelingly, Fleeog thought it amusing to turn the starving man into a Crow. But now The Wizard cringed at the thought that all his victims, all those under the ugly spells of his corrupt magic in the past, would now seek him out, find him and exact satisfaction. Indeed, he needed to disappear quickly. But there was one last chore he must do.

Chapter 23

W HILE FLEEOG BROODED OVER HIS fading magical powers, the full moon of the Summer Solstice was slowly rising on the horizon, already displaying its glowing beauty in the lingering rosy sunset. Tonight is the escape: these next hours critical. Inside the cave, the boys were tense with excitement, knowing they were on the brink of victory: finally to escape, finally to go home. At last the full moon was fully visible low in the sky, a deep rosy-golden orb in the soft summer evening. No wonder farmers named the full moon of June “The Strawberry Moon,” promising a fruitful growing season. Yet, for the boys this full moon would forever be ed for its soft gleaming light guiding them to freedom. Oron, Ania, and Enon were helping each of the boys carefully cover their backs with pelts to disguise them as they left the cave. Everyone worked skillfully and quietly, yet not hurrying, knowing that it must be fully dark before the lads could safely leave the cave. Along a ledge of the cave, 3 P was snuffling around, following the slight scent of something that seemed familiar. He found it almost covered in the deep, soft sand. It was the cord Belle had worn around her neck, the cord that held The Glass Key. He picked it up and trotted proudly over to Enon carrying it. Busy with the pelts, Enon only glanced at the glistening Glass Key, and said, “Hey, 3 P, where did you find that, boy?” Then taking the cord holding The Glass Key from 3P, he slipped the cord around his neck, and promptly forgot about it. He didn’t notice at all a tiny chip missing from one edge of the beautiful Glass Key. Oron reminded the boys, “Crouch low as you move. All the better to appear four-footed and animal-like, my hairy critters” he joked. “And all the better to see the bright silvery paths of the snails in the moonlight. Their tracks may not sound important in here, but those lowly silent, slippery friends of ours are the true heroes tonight, having laid out their bright trails marking your path to freedom. “OH You should have seen them. Dozens upon dozens silently gliding,

shimmering in the moist woods, marking your way with their silvery trails now aglow in the moonlight. And those noisy critters of the woods, whose sounds you know so well, will sing all night to cover your rustling in the woods. But go softly, as cunning as a fox in the shadows, my furry four-footed friends.” The boys smiled at Oron’s comic words, knowing he was trying to ease their tension. Each lad’s own racing heart pounded its vivid reminder that tonight’s escape was deadly serious. Smiles and cheers will come later. Now it was time to go. Enon led the way silently out of the cave. His back fully covered in a dark, rough pelt, he crouched low waving his arm forward as a signal, leading the boys and following the bright streaks of the snails’ glowing tracks in the moonlight. Ahead of Enon, 3P carefully nosed his way along the trail, twitching a bit from his effort not to run ahead. If he stopped for any reason, Enon and the boys would stop. Fully attentive, 3P understood very well to keep a steady pace. In his role as lead dog, he moved softly, quietly, confidently. No one noticed 3P’s slightly uneven trot, when he walked on the small stones in the woods. Nor did anyone take note of Enon’s slight limp. Each one of the boys was fully focused on his own careful, silent moves. Then 3P heard it: someone’s footsteps in the woods. Someone was heading their way on a cross path in a direction toward one of the back caves. 3P stopped with his tail held straight out behind him, pointing his raised front paw in the direction of the footsteps. Whoever it was, took no care to walk softly or even keep silent, but was openly muttering while striding noisily along the wooded path. Then 3P recognized the voice of The Wizard. Seeing 3P’s warning pose, Enon instantly signaled the boys to stop, to crouch as low as possible. Now he, too, heard The Wizard’s distinct mumbling voice and his hurrying footsteps. From the way The Wizard walked, briskly and without hesitation, grumbling to himself, he didn’t seem aware of the boys or anything else. Then, Enon heard what The Wizard’s was saying. He seemed to be reminding himself of what he had to do next. “First, I’ll find that small back cave entrance and look for those three stacked stones. They were big enough not to shift, shouldn’t take me long to lift them

aside and get the leather pouch I buried under there. Glad there’s plenty in that pouch: I’ll have all the gold I’ll ever need.” As The Wizard continued on the cross path toward the back cave, a bit past the path where the boys huddled, his voice faded. Only then did Enon begin to signal 3P and the boys to continue. All of a sudden, one of the boys sneezed, a thin sneeze not very loud, but a sneeze nonetheless. Fleeog heard it. He stopped. Instantly a screech owl gave its call, twice, almost exactly repeating the thin, scratchy sound of the sneeze. The owl’s calls sounded like the high-pitched squeaky hinge on an old rusty garden gate. Then they all heard Fleeog’s low laugh, as he recognized the owl’s calls. Everyone breathed a deep sign relief as they heard The Wizard continue walking briskly away from them on his own quest. No one needed to be reminded now to be quiet and quick. Yet, the journey seemed to go on forever following their intense fright, at having to stop, and wait breathlessly as The Wizard crossed ahead of them. However, despite the unexpected alarm, their concentration was fully in place, unbroken. Finally, at the edge of the thinning woods, they all saw the colorful caravans bright in the moonlight. Enon signaled with his arm low and his palm down: don’t run; don’t hurry; stay calm; you’re almost home. Proudly he watched as each boy quickly located his family’s caravan and silently slipped inside. His own heart pounding mightily, Enon blinked back tears of relief as he watched the lads fade from sight. More than one of the lads had turned and signaled a silent salute of good-bye to Enon before entering their family’s caravan. At Last! At Long Last! They’re safe! They’re free! Each one was inside with their family where they belonged. This First Trial was over, the boys were out of the caves at last, away from The Wizard’s contemptible control. Enon laughed to himself as he became aware that both he and 3P were breathing hard, visibly trembling from the flood of relief. As he and 3P cautiously began to circle their return steps to Rannah’s cottage, he smiled hearing the soft voices in the caravans: sounds of welcome, of gladness, of relief, full of muted happy noise. Inside the cottage, Belle softly cheered, “Yeah, Enon, Hats off!! You DID it.

Nothing else is important now. You got them all out of that cave, all of them. Out of the clutches of Fleeog and Darko. All safe, all back now with their families.” Enon grinned with pleasure, and hugged his dear family and friends. Then hugged them again. Toby hearing what Belle had just said about the boys being safe, being back home with their families, echoed what always seemed foremost on his mind. Yet by speaking, he was aware of bringing up a new, pressing problem. “I’m just as happy as Belle is, Enon, and you’ve pulled off the rescue without a flaw. But, even if my timing is off, I can’t help wondering right now, if we’ll ever be able to get home?” It was true. Toby had pointed out a very real problem that no one had frankly or openly examined before this moment. Then Ojo wisely said, “One step at a time, Young One. We will cross that bridge when we come to it. For tonight let us, each one of us sleep happy in the warm arms of this joyful victory.” Then Enon tapped his head, as if he had suddenly ed something. Picking up 3P he announced to all: “And here’s the Hero of the night, he stopped us from bumping right into Fleeog on the path. And look what he found in the cave?” He held The Glass Key high. “So, thanks to Master 3P here, my friends, you can return home anytime you wish.” Belle and Toby screamed in surprised delight. Cheering, shouting out loud, they ran to hug 3P and Enon, crying in pure relief. Everyone in the cottage was laughing and celebrating. All the pent-up emotions of this evening, and all the tensions of the past days, found voice in their repeated joyous cries of happiness, in their tears of relief.

Chapter 24

T WO DAYS LATER THE CHIEFTAINS arrived to study the knowing ways of Darkoden’s village. All was beautifully in place, a large welcoming tent for the visitors stood in the big meadow outside the village walls. In a large circle around the tent stood the colorful caravans. The Chieftains were deeply pleased by what they saw. From a distance the entire village looked like a pretty picture: a neat walled village, a central fine house where Darkoden and The Wizard lived, all surrounded by a moat dotted with water lilies in bloom. However, what the Chieftains could not know was that the neat walls and the pretty moat were really there to control the villagers’ comings and goings. Looking pretty was only a guise. The Visiting Times group wasted no time in beginning their tour of Darkoden’s village. They saw much to ire. Darkoden had recovered himself a bit, and he did want to show-off the field where the gold-seeds grew. Having kept his vow of secrecy about the gold-seeds, right now he vowed to himself was his moment of reward. Surely, this would make-up for the Vault fiasco. “I have a special surprise to show you,” Darkoden said as he led the group to the big field, and urged them to enter first. When he heard them clapping and murmuring in approval he pictured the entire field sparkling with gold. But at the sight his jaw dropped, he was agast, speechless. Darko almost refused to believe his eyes. Struck dumb, he almost choked at the sight, his face turned purple with pent-up rage, in the effort to hide his rage his face look ravaged. It took all his will power to force himself to stay and listen to the Chieftains praising the lush pasture. Their words were like ashes in his mouth. “Who cares that the field was a beautiful pasture? Who wants a grassy pasture for animals to graze? I wanted GOLD, not grass.” To say he felt betrayed by Fleeog was hardly a start to the outrage he felt. Murderous was how he felt. He would revenge himself on The Wizard, if that was the very last thing he did in his life.

Even the promise of the beautiful pasture having great value toward getting the village prize meant nothing now. Darko felt utterly crushed, deflated, dashed. “Who cares what The Chieftains value? What’s a silly prize? Why seek some empty prize, a hollow shell of a prize? Why did he ever wish for it? “ Darko tried to discredit his dream of having the prize. What a bitter end to his lust for wealth and praise. The look on Darko’s face was harrowing. All his brooding sense of loss, failure and worthlessness flooded his thoughts and lined his face. Then he realized that this was yet another a SIGN: a SIGN that Fleeog was never his friend. It was Fleeog who had cunningly devised the idea of growing gold as a trap to showcase Darko’s foolishness. This SIGN was both a gift and a blow to Darko, since he now understood how truly humiliated in front of the Cheiftains he would have been to appear so gullible as to believe in growing gold. And to his credit, Darko braced himself, “Now I know my path. Now perhaps I can rid myself of Fleeog’s power over me.” As the Chieftains walked to another side of the village, they continued to marvel at the beautiful field. What a fine model for other villages, especially seeing how healthy the sheep and other animals looked as they quietly grazed. Yet, they were deeply perplexed by Darkoden’s sullen, disdainful face. “Strange! He seems so troubled, so little pleased,” they puzzled. Darkoden quickly excused himself from the group, pleading illness. And indeed, he surely did look unwell. He almost ran from the field looking for Fleeog, recasting his sense of failure into blind rage against The Wizard. His anger was a tantrum of ugly, foot-stomping, breath-stealing fury. Then he saw Fleeog running along the edge of the woods. Darko shouted at him, but Fleeog ignored him, looking desperately all around for a place to hide. Sure enough, he saw a big hollow in a very old tree, and rushed to get inside. Fleeog could actually feel his magic power slipping away. Hoping to have enough magic left to turn himself into a quick lizard or a small creature, he barged into the deep tree hollow and right into a hornet’s nest: a nest the size of a market basket. Instantly, he was covered with angry, ‘white-head’ hornets, biting and stinging him as he fled howling into the woods. Darko was poor company for the rest of the day, as he tried without much success to plan his next steps. He brooded that he didn’t even have the satisfaction of screaming at Fleeog. And though he tried to concentrate on his

new path, he found himself distracted by his utter failure to see even a glimpse of Fleeog’s vile behavior. Darko felt bitterly betrayed: confused and angry in being such a fool to trust The Wizard. He felt no pleasure or satisfaction in reviling The Wizard, rather he was gripped by self-loathing. At last, his anger spent, feeling weak and bruised Darko knew full well he simply must recover himself. Much as he wanted to hide, he knew he must face his duty. And although it took a mighty effort, the next day he did his part to entertain the Chieftains in his fine house with a mid-day meal inside the village walls. The Chieftains could see that Darko was distraught, and they left the dining hall as soon as it was polite to do so. All seemed well as the Chieftains returned to their large tent mid-afternoon on this soft summer day. However, upon entering the tent, the Chieftains were surprised to be greeted by Enon, Ania, and Oron, who asked permission to speak. Ania’s Uncle, who was one of the Chieftains, rushed to embrace her, saying he had heard that she and her child, Enon, were dead. Over and over he rejoiced to see that she and Enon were alive and well. After courteous exchanges of greetings, the group became serious and very attentive as Enon, Ania and Oron took turns during their long telling. Calmly the three listed the sinister crimes of The Wizard himself, in his shape-shift forms of Fleeog and Fleea. About Darkoden, they detailed all: his greedy plots, his willful acts of petty meanness, his craven desire for The Wizard’s praise. Over and over during the telling, the Chieftains sadly shook their heads, utterly grieved by the crimes and foul deeds they heard. At times, they were so ashamed they could only cast down their eyes in disbelief. As an emblem of his position, the son of Ania and Chieftain Darkoden, Enon wore The Glass Key on a cord around his neck. And hardly without pause throughout the prolonged telling, The Glass Key flashed Red: the darkest, angriest Red anyone had ever seen. As The Glass Key flashed its Red fiery color of Alarm: its dire meaning unmistakable to all. The climax of the meeting with the Chieftains came as a surprise to everyone when the Crow, holding Fleeog’s glass eye in its beak, proudly entered the big tent just before sunset. The large glossy black bird boldly hopped up on the table in the tent where all were gathered, and dropped the glass eye in front of the

Chieftains for all to see. And see they did. Part of the magic inside the Wizard’s glaring glass eye was that it showed a scene of everything the Wizard saw when he wore it. As the startled Chieftains ed the glass eye from one to another, they saw pictured an array of the foul deeds they had heard about this day: saw Fleea turn Neras into a snake, dooming her to live in the cave; saw her deliberately trip Ania; saw Fleeog faking the rune-spell to trick Darkoden into believing his power to turn sand into gold; saw Fleeog’s abusive treatment of the boys. The glass eye showed all the raw, corrupt cruelty of The Wizard as Fleeog and Fleea, and bore witness to the blinding greed of Darkoden. The Chieftains were stunned by every detail they heard. Now, during this last hour they had vividly witnessed it all again in the glass eye brought to them by the Crow. Being judicious, they sincerely thanked Enon, Ania, Oron and the Crow for their courage and bravery during all those bleak, unhappy times. When all the events had been described and everyone bid goodbye, the shocked Chieftains talked over ideas and decided on a plan. Before dawn they would have a letter sent to Darkoden, as was usual, inviting him to The Chieftains in exactly one year, when the prize would be awarded to a village as yet unnamed. Then quietly, early the next morning, they planned to gladly depart from Darkoden’s sad, magic-cursed village and lands. Early the next morning as the Chieftains were hastily leaving the big tent, they were surprised to see that the meadow around the tent was empty. Indeed, the caravans were gone, long gone. Silently during the deep night hours, the families left for nearby villages where loving relatives and friends welcomed them and gladly planned to help them build a new life.

Chapter 25

N OW, EVERY VILLAGER IN THE surrounding area knew about Darkoden’s scheme to “grow gold” using the boys as cave-slaves. They could only shake their heads in disbelief, and wonder if perhaps Darkoden truly might be demented: to believe or even try such a foolish idea. Indeed, perhaps he is mad the villagers shrugged, since even a child would laugh at the idea of making sand into gold. The morning after the feast for the Chieftains, Darko awoke late, upset to find his room cold. “Lazy-good-for-nothings,” he fumed, “why has no one started my fire? And why are the shutters still open, letting in the damp, chilly air from the hills?” Slowly, after he stopped bitterly complaining about his discomfort, he began to notice the silence. No morning sounds in the courtyard below his windows, no stable sounds of restless animals eager for the fields, no barnyard noises of roosters and geese, no smoke from the village kitchen fires nor smoke from chimneys, no welcome cooking smells, no calls from one villager to another. Not a sound stirred the chilly morning air. “Was he still dreaming? What was happening?” The eerie silence filled him with a sinister dread. And when the bells in his tower started to ring, he knew for certain something was deeply amiss. The bells had been silent for years. Hadn’t he forbidden ringing the bells, as punishment for the dancing and frolic he saw once at mid-day during harvest time? What did those lazy youth think they were doing, dancing as the bells rang in the middle of the day? When told by an elder that it was just a moment of enjoyment during the harvest, Darko revealed his envious heart, his ugly mean-spirited nature. He sneered, saying that he hoped they liked their dance-to-the-bells mischief, because never will they hear his bells again. Now dressing quickly but clumsily without help from his servant, he ran up the steep steps of the bell tower, racing as fast as he could. As he came closer, the bells were maddeningly deafening. Now panting, breathless and dizzy from the

climb, he lost his balance and fell down several steps. The ropes that held the bells in place were dangling free, chewed by mice no doubt: the mice he saw scurrying around the bell loft. Dazed and deafened by the bells, Darko suddenly ed an old deaf man he once mocked and pushed down out of his way on a village path. He tried to brush the memory aside, but the image of the weak old man was now too vivid to dismiss. Clearly, the memory of the old man signaled and foreshadowed his own decline. Sharply, painfully he knew full well that his dreams of wealth and glory were over, that he must change. Slowly the bells stopped, and once more the unnatural silence surrounded him. But in the deep silence, Darko heard the sound of his own doom ringing, echoing, and tolling in his mind. He asked himself, “Will I ever find peace? Will I forever be haunted by my own foul past?” Yet, Darko wasn’t the only one at a loss. The Wizard Fleeog, too, felt his power seeping away, knowing full well that his power over Darko had evaporated, was gone. His only hope now was to use the last of his magic to flee, to escape his inevitable disgrace and powerlessness. Yet now, having retrieved the pouch of gold coins he had hidden under the stones near a back cave, he enjoyed a sense of false security: a triumphant smugness. While trying to sneak inside the village walls to gather some of his magic potions, The Wizard saw a young man, walking with a slight limp toward a cottage across the fields. Not willing to simply wait until the young man ed, The Wizard could not resist one last victory over someone he assumed to be weak and vulnerable. Calling out to the young man, not knowing it was Enon, The Wizard bragged at the top of his lungs that he was escaping, and that no one had power to bring him to justice. Holding up the glass eye Enon recognized The Wizard’s familiar pattern of gathering his aura just before changing into some creature and disappearing. Pointing The Glass Key at The Wizard, Enon shouted “Vulture! FOREVER!” in the very second that The Wizard in all his forms was attempting an escape. In a blink, The Wizard morphed into an immense vulture, a raw-necked, ungainly bird with rough, dull feathers, and a hulking head with a huge cracked beak. He was now a creature whose only food would be carrion, often of the

dried flesh of creatures long-dead– a bird whose lonely life meant endlessly circling over seemingly barren lands, or briefly ing a group of his own kind to fight over a meal of rotting flesh and bones. It was a fitting end to The Wizard: a life without friends, without family, without comfort. Suddenly, there were loud shouts and cheers of joy throughout the surrounding cottages and fields of the village. At last, The Wizard’s witchcraft powers had vanished. The Crow, having delivered the Wizard’s glass eye to The Chieftains, returned now to his manly self. He found and embraced his family, who during all the years of his enchantment had protected and cared for him. The otter, now fully restored to himself as the faithful guardian dog of his family’s cottage and grounds, swam to the shore of the stream and ran to his cottage, barking at the door. His young master, now almost fully grown shouted with pleasure at seeing him, knelt down to hug and pat his old pal. “Ma! Pa! Woof is back! Woof is home!” Inside the cave, Saren’s spell was broken as well. Beamingly happy, she resumed her lovely self, a young woman only a few years older than her brother, Enon. Once again as Neras, she ran from the cave to rejoice with Ania, Enon, Rannah and Oron. Ojo clapped her hands as Neras hugged and kissed her dearest family and friends over and over, the Young Ones included. Then at last, arm in arm Neras and Oron walked into the soft shadows of the sheltered fragrant garden: the beloved friends, ever so much more than friends, together at last.

Alone in his fine house, Darko became desperate: desperately hungry and lonely. Even sleep brought him no relief, since he almost always dreamed of food, drink and comfort, yet always awoke in famished despair. Once he dreamed of digging in a field and finding a gold potato. He awoke weeping, still hungry and cold, asking himself, “Will I ever find peace?” One evening, under cover of darkness he tried to hunt for food still growing in the small farm plots left behind by the villagers. He found a few unripe vegetables and ate them on the spot. Then as quickly, he was sick from the uncooked things he had wolfed down. A feral dog snarled at him, chasing him from the plots. He abandoned his fine bedroom and slept in the small washroom at the back of

the cookhouse. It wasn’t at all comfortable on the hard-packed earthen floor, but at least the room was warmed during the day by the sun. Often he roamed the fields near his fine house, and thought of nothing but food. His mind filled with “If Only…” thoughts. After days alone, Darko slowly, ever so slowly, began to change, to find his path. He learned to draw fresh water from the well, marveling that young children had carried the heavy pails of steaming water up the steep back stairs for his bath. “What a hard life even very young children endured in the inner village! Had I ever noticed? Was I ever really aware of them?” he asked himself, bitterly ashamed. The walled village was now completely empty. Only a few chickens still wandered around, scratching and pecking at the bare earth. Finding an empty bag of feed in the stable shed with a bit of seed left in a bottom corner, Darko put it out hoping that with luck the hens would roost and he might now and then find an egg to feast on for a meal. Hunger and loneliness forced him to put aside his pride and go on Market Day to barter for food. He had no gold, only a few coins. Now that almost all of the villagers were long gone, only one or two vendors had small tables on the Market Day. Dressed in simple clothes, with a scruffy, coarse, untrimmed beard, no one on Market Day recognized Darko, and he was greeted with simple courtesy. With his few coins he bought a small, round bread, a fist-size fresh cheese and a pear. How he would have enjoyed a tiny square of honeycomb, but he didn’t have enough coins. One of the Market vendors, being friendly, asked his name. Ashamed to say his name, he replied only, “I’m just an old man, an old man alone.” Oddly, Darko found a sense of relief after revealing that simple truth. Returning home after his first Market Day, he openly wept as he ed each small kindness. “What have I missed in life?” he asked himself reproachfully. “Have I ever truly looked into someone’s eyes when they spoke to me? Have I ever returned a child’s smile?” He was especially moved when a small lad asked if he would like help carrying home his small sack of goods. Simply ing the brief encounters brought more sobs and tears of bitter regret.

Darko could hardly face the manner of man he had been, mean-hearted and uglyspirited in every way, having no thought for any one, unless it promised some benefit to himself. “Was I always such a one? No! Surely not! My dear Ania would never have loved me if I had been such a one when we met.” Slowly, ever so slowly, Darko resolved to change, to cast off his self-pitying, his self-fixed manner. He earnestly tried to the man he once was long ago.

At first after the Chieftains had left the village, Enon thought that Darko had also left. Yet, he heard faint sounds from the walled village. “Could Darko still be there? How could he possibly manage all alone?” Enon planned to invite the villagers to return, but the thought of Darko still living in his fine house gave him pause, and troubled his thoughts. Ania said she would accompany him to see Darko, if indeed he was there. She said it was important that the three of them sit together and make a plan for the future of the village. In Rannah’s cottage kitchen as they sat talking now: everyone knew that Enon alone could persuade the villagers to return. As word of his rescue of the boys spread, Enon was called a Hero by one and all. Surely, now was the time to reunite the villagers, renew their homesteads, and work together to create a new life without wizards or magic: a new village without confining walls or a deep moat. When Enon and Ania went to the walled inner village, and met with Darko, they immediately saw he was very much changed, completely unlike his old self, diminished in every way. He appeared not merely to have aged, but also seemed to have shrunk into himself. Speaking very softly, he was unable to look them in the eye, even for a second. Ever so quietly he agreed to every suggestion and idea Enon outlined, not adding a word of his own. Then with his head and eyes cast down, one by one he mumbled his sincere apologies:

“Yes, I am weak, and lonely. I humbly beg forgiveness for all my cruelty, my greedy madness. I know that I brought all this upon myself. I regret my past. I am shamed.

“Yes, having my son take my place as Chieftain is right and good. I do not deserve such a noble son. He will rule with justice and wisdom, will choose worthy councilors. “Yes, I would dearly like to meet my long lost daughter, Neras, if she is willing. I will beg her forgiveness on my knees for her hateful enchantment, for her years of exile. “Yes, I will be grateful for one small corner of a room anywhere. I will never interfere with anyone again, not ever. “Yes, I will greet each and every villager, and sincerely beg forgiveness, for all their hardship. Humbly, I will implore forgiveness from the boys and praise their courage, and praise their brave parents. “Yes, above all. I want a different life, no magic, no wizard, no mischief, no curses or spells. No more, forever.

With his head bowed Darko began to leave. Enon stood and held out his arms to embrace his tearful, weak, trembling father. Ania told Darko that she sees him now changed: a man of new learned humility, a man aware of his dark past; a man ready to work at rebuilding trust; a man who might once again find his heart.

Chapter 26

A S ENON AND ANIA RETURNED to Rannah’s cottage, Enon said he had one more Task. He must return The Glass Key to Belle so his friends could return home. He told his two friends that he hoped Mennoc would remain in the village as his guide and mentor. Mennoc was deeply touched by Enon’s words asking him to stay. Looking with complete sincerity into Mennoc’s eyes, Enon had said humbly, “Mennoc, I’ll need your wisdom and sound judgment to help me every single day during the time ahead.” Mennoc quickly accepted. Both he and Enon knew it would take much effort to shape new guidelines with the villagers. Putting his hand on Enon’s shoulder, Mennoc said he felt honored, happy to be Enon’s Guardian Guide. But he continued, “I’d like to tell Toby and Belle myself, when I accompany them to the cave. It’s where all of us will say our final, heartfelt goodbyes.” So after many, joyful and tearful goodbyes, said over and over, with many kisses and hugs exchanged, the Young Ones departed. Belle said she was sorry to miss Neras and Oron‘s wedding, and wished them joy together. Toby reminded Enon that he might show up one day to play a trick on him, Village Ruler, or not. Oron told the Young Ones: “If you ever do decide to return, try not to fall into the goose pond again.” Everyone laughed, and clapped with pleasure. Finally, Mennoc, Toby and Belle walked to the cave, found the rubble filled well, which The Glass Key once more restored to steps. Mennoc assured his two young friends that he was content in the life he now knew, among new friends. Earlier, he had asked Belle to put The Glass Key back in its place under the threshold stone where his cabin once stood. “Put that magic to rest,” Mennoc advised. However, Belle surprised him by saying that she wanted Rannah to have The Glass Key, saying simply: “It is the only gift I have to give dear Rannah, to thank her for all her kindness and simple generosity, especially on that first day. Toby and I were so frightened and scared when we found ourselves in the goose pond. I’ll never…we’ll never be able to thank Rannah enough.”

Toby nodded his total agreement, as Belle continued, “Her warm-hearted welcome made us feel safe, able to breathe easier. Rannah will know what to do with The Glass Key. It will be safe, in her good hands.” As Belle carefully ed The Glass Key to Mennoc, all three were wide-eyed seeing the key’s beautiful color…a clear, sparkling turquoise blue. The friends assured Mennoc that this was their wish. He clearly saw Belle and Toby’s full-hearted sincerity, and promised to follow their wishes. All three were in tears as they bid one-another goodbye, as Mennoc pointed The Glass Key, they started to climb the steps in the well up to the “Stone Table Meadow.” “Let me remind you,” said Mennoc. “ Your experiences in the Story-Travel Past were profoundly intense, and they no doubt seemed to last for weeks and weeks. But Time there was “different,” so to speak. To your folks, you’ve been away with me no longer than the few days we had agreed upon. Don’t worry that you’ve upset them or caused them even a moment of anxiety. You’re arriving just in time. They’ll be delighted to see you again.”

When Belle and Toby reached the top step in the well, they heard their parents calling to them, as they climbed over the stone wall circling the well. They turned to see Mennoc wave a quiet farewell as he started down the steps to the cave. After a few minutes, when he called a final good-bye, they heard the steps inside the well tumble into rubble again. “Well, you two took your time! We’ve been waiting here for you since lunchtime.” said Belle’s parents. “And we have good news about Gram!” Toby and Belle hugged their parents again and again. Belle looking from one to the other saying, “I’m so glad to see you again, so thrilled to be home. You’ll NEVER know.” Toby broke the serious moment, asking “So where’s all that picnic food? I’m starving.” Everything felt entirely new to Belle and Toby. Yet, after a while, when their heart-beats settled down, and the yummy picnic was almost all gone, their parents filled them in about their new plans for the lodge and next summer, and about Gram’s coming to stay with them.

Looking at Toby and all the parents, Belle said “There’s so much to catch-up on, so much we have to tell you. All your plans sound great, and we’re both eager to tell you about our adventures.” Toby nodded in agreement. “Sorry to be later than we agreed. We’ve been a bit delayed. Wouldn’t you say, Toby? But just wait until you hear our stories.” Toby rolled his eyes, laughing “Yeah, that’s a good one, Belle. That’s sure one way to put it. Yep, like you said… we’ve been a bit delayed, all right.”

The End

Acknowledgments

I am deeply grateful to all those who read my early MS and helped me shape this work into its present form: Especially my daughter-in-law Wendy, my son, Michael, and my friends Carol B. Albright of Cambridge, MA and Carl Klaus of Iowa City. Last, yet never least, Bob, my husband and life companion, whose own writing skills inspired me, and gave me courage to write these adventures.