The Ghostly Guardian

by Maggie Marks

  But this time, the trader didn’t listen. He circled the llamas and began to lead them onward.

  “Wait!” Mason cried out. “Please!”

  With one last burst of speed, he closed the gap between himself and the llamas. As he came upon the heels of the cream-colored animal, it began to trot. “Baahhh!”

  “It’s alright,” said Mason. “I won’t hurt you.” Any other day, he might have reached out a hand to stroke the strange animal’s neck or admired the multicolored ribbons dangling from its ears. But not today.

  Instead, Mason veered right, giving the llamas a wide berth, and searched for the trader who was leading the animals.

  But where was he? Mason squinted into the darkness. Had the trader stepped off the trail?

  Mason spun in a slow circle, studying every mushroom to see if someone was hiding behind it. He jogged toward a flat-topped mushroom with a thick stem, and then back across the trail the other way toward a pair of dome-topped mushrooms that stood together like twins. But there was no sign of the wandering trader.

  “Mason!” Asher’s voice rang out from the ship docked below.

  At the sound, the llamas jumped and began trotting faster.

  “No, wait!” Mason cried. “Where’s your master?”

  The animals didn’t seem the least bit concerned about waiting for the trader. They took off over the crest of the hill, racing into darkness.

  For a moment, Mason was torn. Should he go after them to keep them safe?

  “Mason!” Luna was calling his name this time.

  He glanced back downhill and saw torches bobbing across the mushroom field. Everyone was looking for him—worried about him probably—now that dusk had fallen.

  But I have to find the trader! he wanted to cry. I’m so close now!

  Except … he wasn’t. Because the llamas had disappeared into the night. And the wandering trader had too.

  With a sigh, Mason trudged back toward the ship. Every few steps, he glanced over his shoulder to check for the trader. But all he saw were giant mushrooms marching across the moonlit hill. They stood guard like iron golems, casting shadows—and doubt.

  Will I find the wandering trader again? he wondered. Or did I just miss my only chance?

  * * *

  “Do you want a bit more?” asked Mrs. Diaz, holding a ladle in her hand.

  Mason shook his head. Not even a mushroom stew breakfast could improve his mood this morning.

  “That means more for me!” said Asher, holding out his empty bowl. He glanced at Mason’s scowling face. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I told you,” said Mason, lowering his voice. “I saw the wandering trader last night, but then I lost him.”

  “Why were you chasing him across the field?” asked Luna, sliding into the seat next to Mason. Her eyes asked a thousand more questions. Is your mind playing tricks on you again? she was probably wondering. Do you still think that was Uncle Bart?

  Mason’s shoulders slumped. There was no use talking to Luna about it. She didn’t understand.

  “He probably thought you were a hostile mob or something,” Chase mumbled, his mouth full of stew. “That’s why he took off.”

  Chase is right, Mason thought with a sigh. I scared off the trader—before I could ask him anything or see his face. He picked at his bowl of stew, wishing he could magically turn back time and do last night all over again.

  “Dad says we should reach the Taiga today,” Savannah said brightly. “Spruce trees, wild berries, foxes.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shivered with excitement. “I can’t wait!”

  “We’ll probably see some pillagers too,” Asher said to Mason, as if seeing a bunch of pillagers would somehow take his mind off the wandering trader.

  Mason pushed his bowl away and stood up from the table. He couldn’t go back in time and do things differently. But he could go up on deck and keep an eye on the shoreline, just in case he was lucky enough to see the trader again.

  * * *

  “Are we there yet?” asked Asher. He plopped down on deck beside Mason.

  “We must be close,” said Mason. “Feel how cold it is now?” He rubbed his arms, smoothing out the goosebumps.

  He’d been staring at the shoreline for hours now. The oak trees had thinned out, replaced by tall spruce. Lush ferns and bushes sprouted below. He’d even seen a berry bush or two. But there was still no sign of the trader.

  When Mr. Diaz called from the captain’s wheel to say he was docking, Mason could barely muster up a smile. I messed up my only chance to talk with the trader! he kept thinking. Because now that they’d reached the Taiga—the last stop in their journey—he probably wouldn’t get another one.

  As the other kids raced for shore, Mason trudged along behind.

  “We can gather some wood for a campfire,” said Mrs. Diaz as she fell in step beside him. “Then we’ll head east into the village in the morning.” She smiled so kindly, Mason had to smile back.

  But no one seemed quite as happy as Mr. Diaz. He rubbed his hands together with anticipation, staring up at the tallest of the spruce trees. “Why trade for spruce in the village when we can harvest our own?” he asked. He slid his axe out of his pack and headed toward a thick patch of trees.

  When Chase raced after him, Mrs. Diaz called him back. “Stay close,” she said. “It’s easy to get lost in the woods here. Help me gather kindling branches from the ground, alright?”

  Chase nodded, but he kicked at the dirt with his shoe. Then he gave Asher a furtive glance.

  They’re up to something, thought Mason. I’m going to need to keep an eye on them.

  He searched the ground for broken sticks and branches, but every few steps, he looked back at Asher—until Savannah shouted from a thick patch of shrubs.

  “Berries!” She stepped out with a handful of plump red berries. From the stain on her chin, Mason could tell that she’d already sampled them. “They’re so sweet,” she said. “Try one!”

  Mason reached for a berry. As he bit into it, his mouth filled with the delicious juice. He instantly wanted another.

  “I’ve got some too,” Luna called as she stepped out of the foliage. Her arms were scratched from the prickly bushes, but she held a palmful of berries.

  Mason grabbed three this time, and then called for his brother. “Hey, Asher, you’ve got to try these.”

  When he turned around, his brother was gone—and Chase was too.

  “Ash—” Mason started to holler. But he didn’t want to alarm Mrs. Diaz. So instead, he followed the sound of Mr. Diaz’s pickaxe. Chase and Asher are probably with Mr. Diaz right now, he decided.

  Whack! Whack! Whack!

  The sound seemed to bounce off the tree trunks. Mason hurried toward it, hoping his ears weren’t playing tricks on him—that he was going the right way. He glanced backward, wondering if Luna and Savannah had followed him. But all he saw were thick ferns and bushes blanketed by the quickly falling dusk.

  Mrs. Diaz is right, Mason realized. I could get lost in here!

  As branches crackled beside him, another worry flooded his mind. What kind of critters were hiding in those woods? Foxes, for sure. But maybe even wolves.

  Mason slowed down, checking the bushes to his right and left. He tread more softly on the trail, trying not to make a sound. And he listened for wild critters—for a growl, grunt, or howl.

  Should I turn back? he wondered. Or keep going and try to find Mr. Diaz?

  There was no time to decide. When something sprang out of the bushes beside him, Mason’s knees went weak. He half-dove, half-fell in the other direction.

  But it had a hold of him now, and was dragging him away.

  CHAPTER 9

  Before Mason could holler for help, someone clamped a hand over his mouth.

  Don’t panic! he told himself. It’s a hand—not a paw or claws. It’s a person.

  It was a red-haired person with terrified green eyes.

  “Asher, let go!�
�� Mason struggled to get loose from his brother’s grip.

  When Chase squatted beside them, he raised his finger to his lips. “Shh!” he whispered. “Just look!”

  Mason sat up and followed Chase’s gaze. Beyond the bushes they were hiding behind, the spruce trees thinned. A group of villagers were hurrying past. But something’s weird about them, Mason recognized instantly.

  They wore brown robes, like farmers, but these villagers had gray skin—like witches. Their bushy eyebrows were black as night. And they carried bows, the arrows drawn and ready for a fight.

  Mason squinted and realized that the weapons weren’t bows—they were crossbows. And in that moment, he knew exactly what he was looking at. “Pillagers,” he whispered.

  “Yep,” said Asher. His eyes danced, as if they’d just discovered a treasure chest buried beneath a spruce. He reached for an arrow and began to load his own crossbow.

  “Don’t!” Mason grabbed a hold of Asher’s arm. “There’s too many of them. We’re outnumbered.”

  He counted the pillagers as they streamed past. One, two, three, four …

  When the last pillager stepped out of the trees, Mason sucked in his breath. This one wore a giant banner on his head, the image of a hostile pillager bearing down from it. “Who is that?” he asked.

  Chase answered in a fierce whisper. “The patrol captain. He’s the leader.”

  As the captain disappeared into the thicket, Asher bolted upright. “We’re going to lose him!” he cried. He took off after the captain, his crossbow raised and ready.

  “Stop!” Mason called. He sprang up, trying to grab the back of Asher’s shirt. But someone else beat him to it.

  Mr. Diaz lifted Asher right off the ground and held him tight. “No, son,” he said. “You don’t want to fight the captain. If you do, you could suffer the bad omen effect.”

  The bad omen effect. Mason had no idea what those words meant, but he shivered.

  Asher stopped struggling. “What’s so bad about it?” he asked.

  “You can’t go into a village with the bad omen effect,” Chase explained. “You’ll bring bad luck with you. The pillagers will raid the village—other hostile mobs will too. The villagers could be killed, and it would be all your fault!”

  Asher swallowed hard.

  Well, that worked, thought Mason with relief. He won’t be going after any patrol captains now.

  But Asher had one more question. “Are the pillagers heading to the village?” he asked. “Are they going to attack?”

  A shadow fell over Mr. Diaz’s face. “They are heading east,” he said. Then he glanced up at the rising moon and sighed. “We’ll be the ones who are attacked if we stay out here. Mobs are going to start spawning soon. Let’s head back to shore and build our campfire, shall we?”

  Chase nodded and followed his father, but Asher lagged behind. “C’mon!” Mason said. This time, he wasn’t going to let Asher out of his sight—not when there was a forest full of pillagers.

  But in the glow of Asher’s enchanted crossbow, Mason saw the gleam in his brother’s eyes. Asher was already making a plan for how to go after the pillagers.

  He wants to see them again as much as I want to see the wandering trader, Mason realized.

  And if Asher had his way, he would.

  * * *

  Ow, ow, owooo!

  Mason sat up in bed so fast, the room started to spin. He wondered if he’d been dreaming, until the howling started up again.

  Owooo!

  Were Asher and Chase messing around outside? Mason leaped out of bed and ran to the porthole window. In the light of the full moon, he searched the shoreline for the boys.

  “That’s wolves howling.”

  The sound of Chase’s voice in the hallway made Mason jump. He slapped his hand on his chest and turned around. “Where’s Asher?” he asked.

  Chase shrugged and gave a sleepy yawn. “In bed probably. Where else?”

  But as Mason reached for the torch and cast its light across the room, he saw in an instant that the bed beside his own was empty. And the enchanted crossbow, which usually hung on a hook by Asher’s bed, was gone.

  Realization struck like lightning. “He went after the pillagers,” Mason announced with certainty. “I have to go after him—now!”

  He fumbled to find his trident. By the time he reached the door of the cabin, Luna and Savannah were in the hall too.

  “What’s going on?” asked Luna. She pulled her messy hair into a bun.

  Mason thought about fibbing, but there was no time. “Asher went after the pillagers,” he said. “I’ve got to find him.”

  Luna nodded. “I’ll get my potions.”

  A rush of warmth flooded Mason’s chest. Sure, Luna had found a new friend in Savannah. But she’ll never let me and Asher down, he realized. She’s got our backs.

  When he turned around, he realized that Chase and Savannah did too. Savannah was strapping her trident to her waist.

  “Should we wake up Mom and Dad?” Chase whispered.

  She hesitated. “If we do, Dad won’t let us go. He won’t let you go,” she said to Mason. “I mean, he’ll go out looking for Asher, but he’ll make us stay behind.”

  Mason shook his head. “No way,” he said. “I’m not staying back.”

  Chase threw back his shoulders. “Then I guess we aren’t either,” he said. “C’mon.”

  When Luna came out of her cabin with her sack of potions, Mason held up his torch and led the way toward the stairs. He half-hoped Asher would be sitting out on deck, gazing up at the moon and listening for wolves.

  But he won’t be, Mason knew. He’s heading east, straight into danger. And now we are too.

  CHAPTER 10

  “That way,” said Savannah, glancing at her compass and then back up at the thicket ahead.

  “How do we get through?” asked Luna. “We’d need an axe to tunnel through those bushes.”

  “Then Asher must have used one too,” Mason pointed out. “We should be able to find his path.” If Asher used his compass, he thought. If he’s even going the right way toward the village.

  As Mason pushed a fern aside, he tried to push away his worry too. Asher always packed a compass in his sack—they both did. And if he really wanted to fight the pillagers and save the village, he’d have to use it.

  With that thought, Mason held his torch high and searched for any sign of his brother. But Luna found it first—a shredded strip of green fabric dangling from a trampled bush. “His T-shirt got caught,” she said, holding up the fabric. “This is a berry bush. He probably ate his way through it.” She grinned, but Mason could see the worry in her eyes.

  Chase pulled out his axe and began following Asher’s path, widening it so that all four of them could easily follow.

  As they slowly made their way through the thicket, Mason searched the darkness. Had Asher brought a torch for keeping hostile mobs from spawning? I sure hope so, thought Mason, swallowing hard.

  They followed Asher’s path for what felt like an eternity. When the trees finally thinned, Chase tucked his axe back into his belt. Mason walked in silence, listening for any sound—like Asher’s sneakers crunching along the forest floor. “Can you still see his trail?” he asked.

  Luna squatted in the dirt. “I think so,” she said. “Someone walked this way. If not Asher, then …” She gazed over her shoulder, her eyes wide.

  “The pillagers?” whispered Savannah.

  Luna nodded. “I see a lot of footsteps,” she said, running her hand through the dirt.

  Chase stopped walking. “I see the village!” he shouted.

  “Shh!” Savannah clamped a hand over her brother’s mouth.

  But Mason felt a rush of excitement, too, as his eyes adjusted to the smattering of torch lights up ahead. “Has it been raided?” he asked. “Can you tell?”

  Chase shook his head. “There’s only one way to find out.” He grabbed his iron sword and began jogging toward the barns and
farm houses lining the road to the village.

  As Mason took off after him, he fought the urge to call out for Asher. It might put him in danger, Mason realized. Or send him running even faster toward the village, if he thinks we’re here to stop him. So he kept his mouth closed and his eyes wide open.

  As they neared an old, weathered barn, Luna’s torch bobbed in the darkness. Suddenly, she stopped. “Wait!” she called, holding up her hand. “The trail splits here.” She held the torch high, showing the others how most of the footsteps led straight toward the village—but one set veered toward the barn.

  Asher? Mason wondered, glancing toward the barn. Was his brother inside, or was a hostile pillager hiding in there, ready to strike?

  Only one way to find out, Mason decided, echoing Chase’s words. He grabbed his trident and snuck toward the barn door. As he tiptoed through the darkness, he felt Luna on his heels.

  Then he heard a voice—a muffled whisper. “Mason!”

  “Asher?”

  Mason spun around, searching the shadows for his brother.

  “Here!”

  Asher wasn’t inside the barn. He was crouched beside it, looking around the corner. He waved Mason forward and held his finger to his lips. “Shh … The pillagers are right there!” He pointed.

  With a rush of relief, Mason raced toward his brother. He wanted to give him a giant bear hug, but he also wanted to punch him in the shoulder for sneaking out on his own. There wasn’t time to do either. As Mason peered around the corner, he saw the pillager patrol heading toward the village.

  What would happen when they got there? Mason imagined the village bell ringing, and everyone barring their doors. But could they fight off the pillagers?

  Not without help, thought Mason, his throat tightening.

  “We have to stop them!” said Asher, his voice rising. “We’re not outnumbered anymore.”

  Mason realized that Asher was right. There are five pillagers, but there are five of us now too, he thought. He studied his friends’ faces: Luna was already digging in her sack for potions. Chase held his sword high. Savannah was sliding the trident from her waist. His friends were ready to fight.