The Ghostly Guardian

by Maggie Marks

  But am I? Mason wondered.

  Asher sprang up and loaded his crossbow, which meant that the time for deciding was over.

  “Drink this,” Luna insisted. “All of you.” She took a quick drink of potion and then passed the bottle.

  The potion of strength glowed red, lit by the blaze powder she had used to brew it. Mason took a big gulp, hoping it would work. He made sure Asher did too. Chase and Savannah drained the bottle completely.

  And then it was time.

  Asher wiped the potion off his chin. He crept back toward the edge of the barn, carefully aimed his enchanted crossbow, and fired.

  His single arrow turned into three. Mason watched the first strike a pillager in the back. As the pillagers beside him whirled around, a second pillager took an arrow in the chest. Thwack, thwack!

  Asher’s third arrow whizzed overhead, missing its mark. And now the angry pillagers were arming their own crossbows.

  “Duck!” Mason cried. He felt an arrow whiz past his ear.

  Smack! Another arrow struck the wooden barn behind his head.

  “Asher, duck!” Mason cried again. But it was no use.

  Asher was running toward the remaining pillagers now, his crossbow raised. So Mason did the only thing he could do. He launched his own weapon and then took off running after it.

  The trident soared through the air and struck a pillager in the shoulder. It grunted in anger, but it kept charging forward—its crossbow trained on Asher.

  “No!” Mason cried.

  Asher raced behind a thick tree, dodging arrows.

  He’s safe there, Mason thought, at least for now. But I’m not! He was running headlong into a group of armed pillagers—without a weapon.

  As an arrow struck his leg, he instantly fell. He did one somersault, and then two, before landing beside a rock. As quickly as he could, Mason dragged himself behind the rock, nursing his wound. He pulled out the arrow, feeling its sting, and said a quick thank-you for Luna’s potion of strength.

  Don’t quit, he told himself. Asher needs you!

  He peered around the rock just long enough to see Chase battling a pillager with his sword. Mason’s trident was still stuck in the mob’s shoulder, swinging wildly side to side.

  With a solid whack of his sword, Chase knocked the pillager off its feet. It landed with a grunt and laid still.

  “My trident!” Mason called to Chase. “Grab it!”

  Chase did, and sent it sailing through the air back toward Mason. It landed in the ground a few feet from the rock, its prongs stuck in the earth.

  Mason quickly snatched it and then checked again for pillagers. Luna and Savannah were battling the last one—swinging their tridents like swords. But where was Asher?

  Mason lifted his head above the rock just enough to see his brother racing toward him. Asher was grinning ear to ear, already celebrating their victory. But behind him, Mason saw the pillager raise his crossbow.

  They’re not all dead, he realized. There’s one left! And this one wore a banner on his head. This one was the deadliest of all.

  “Asher, duck!” Mason cried. He leaped out from behind the rock, ignoring the pain in his leg, and threw his trident with all his might.

  It whistled through the air just as the patrol captain released his arrow.

  Seconds later, the trident found its mark. As the captain shrieked with pain and rage, he toppled to the ground. But Asher did too.

  “No!” Mason raced toward his brother’s side and rolled Asher onto his back, searching for the arrow. “Where is it?” he cried. “Where did it hit you?”

  “Get off me!” Asher hollered. “I’m fine. I ducked—just like you told me to.”

  Mason blew out a breath of relief and did a quick scan to be sure no other mobs remained. “I think we got them all. I think we did it,” he said, keeping a hand on Asher’s crossbow just in case.

  “You did it!” said Asher, pumping his fist. “You killed the captain. It dropped its banner, see?”

  Asher pointed, showing Mason the banner that lay draped across the ground. But as the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky pink and blue, something else caught Mason’s eye. A pillager appeared beside the cobblestone well at the entrance to the village.

  “There’s one more!” Mason cried. He grabbed Asher’s crossbow, ready to use it.

  But as his eyes adjusted to the morning light, he saw that the pillager wasn’t alone. It stood beside two llamas, which meant …

  … it wasn’t a pillager at all.

  CHAPTER 11

  Mason leaped to his feet, ready to greet the wandering trader. But his leg instantly buckled.

  “Luna!” he cried. “I need your potions!”

  She was beside him in a flash, pulling potion of healing from her sack.

  Mason threw back his head and guzzled the last of the melon-flavored potion, willing it to work quickly.

  Soon, his leg began to tingle. He straightened it out, wiggling his toes. And then he tried to stand. “Thanks,” he said, taking a cautious step.

  As he turned back toward the wandering trader, he saw that the man had already made his way into the village. He’s heading to the market, Mason realized. And this time, I won’t let him get away.

  Mason began to jog toward the village. Soon, the jog turned into a sprint.

  Luna shouted something from behind, but Mason didn’t turn around. He raced down the gravel path, nearly tripping over the drops the pillagers had left behind—arrows, emeralds, and even a crossbow. He didn’t have time to pick them up. I have to catch up with the trader! he thought, pumping his arms as he ran. I have to!

  As he rounded the village well, he nearly skidded in the gravel. But he kept running—until a piercing sound rang out, shattering the early morning silence.

  Mason instantly stopped running and slapped his hands over his ears. It’s a bell, he realized. The village warning bell. But … why is it ringing?

  As Luna raced up behind him, he heard her shout a single word. “Raid!”

  Mason whirled around. “Huh?”

  She stopped and leaned over her knees, trying to catch her breath. “Bad … omen … effect,” she managed to get out. “You triggered … a raid!”

  Mason’s stomach dropped. I killed a captain and then went into a village, he realized with horror. Now pillagers are going to raid it!

  He spun back around, searching the houses and shops that lined the street. Were the pillagers here already? And what other hostile mobs had he just unleashed?

  “How do we stop it?” Mason shouted. “How do we stop the raid?”

  Chase and Asher had caught up now, with Savannah close behind. Chase just shook his head. “You can’t stop it,” he said solemnly. “It’s too late.”

  “But villagers are going to die!” cried Asher.

  He stopped short of saying the words running through Mason’s mind. Villagers are going to die, and it’s all my fault.

  “They’re coming,” said Luna, her voice barely a whisper. “The pillagers.”

  A chill ran down Mason’s spine. He slowly turned and saw the stream of mobs spilling into the village from the hillside beyond. Some were on foot, but others were riding huge beasts—cow-like mobs as tall as iron golems. He sucked in his breath. “What are those?”

  “Ravagers!” said Chase. “That vindicator is riding one too.” He pointed at a villager-like mob carrying a sharp axe.

  Everywhere Mason turned, he saw danger. Pillagers, ravagers, vindicators, and even witches. I did this, he thought again. So I have to fight. He reached for his weapon, but where was it? “My trident!” he cried. He’d left it behind when he’d fought to save Asher.

  “Here,” said Asher, handing him a crossbow. “A pillager dropped this.”

  As the brothers locked eyes, Mason took the heavy weapon. “We’re seriously outnumbered,” he whispered.

  Asher’s cheeks flushed pink. “I know.”

  But when Mason turned to fight, he
felt his brother and his friends step up beside him.

  Smash!

  A vindicator rode its ravager straight through the gate of a house, knocking it off its hinges. Then it slid off the ravager and swung its axe, trying to knock down the front door too.

  “Look!” Asher pointed.

  Through the window of the house, Mason caught sight of a woman holding a baby villager. No! Instantly, he aimed his crossbow at the vindicator. He waited just a moment, to be sure his aim was true. Then he released the arrow.

  Thwack!

  The arrow hit the door just above the vindicator’s head. It turned, its eyes lit with anger. The mob raised its axe, as if it might throw the weapon at Mason. Then it whirled back around and swung again at the door.

  Wood splintered as the axe found its way through.

  “No!” Mason cried out loud. He loaded another arrow and fired. Three more arrows whizzed over his shoulder, which meant Asher was fighting too.

  Finally, the vindicator dropped with a grunt.

  But the ravager it had been riding locked eyes with Luna. It lowered its head, ready to ram her—or anyone else who got in its path.

  Mason loaded another arrow and aimed for the beast. Thwack! The arrow bounced off the ravager’s head as if it were made of stone.

  The beast snorted fiercely, and then charged.

  “Luna!” Mason shouted.

  She threw her trident at the ravager—and missed. Mason saw the panic in her eyes as she searched the ground for any kind of weapon or protection. Just before the mob struck, she lifted the broken gate from the ground and held it like a shield.

  Smack! The ravager hit the shield with its massive head. For a few seconds, it stood back, stunned. Then it roared with rage.

  Luna fell backward at the sound. She scrambled across the lawn on her hands and knees to reach her trident.

  Thwack, thwack, thwack! Asher’s arrows whizzed by. Two of them struck the ravager.

  It wobbled, roared again … and then fell.

  “Look!” Luna cried, pointing at the ground. The dead ravager had dropped a saddle, its leather shiny and smooth.

  Perfect, thought Mason. Luna got her saddle.

  Then something exploded at his feet.

  Smash!

  Mason heard the cackle of a witch. She launched another bottle, just as Savannah pulled him away from the potion bubbling up from the ground below.

  Everywhere he looked, arrows whizzed. Potion bottles smashed. Shiny axes glinted in the morning sun. There was no time to think—only time to act.

  He loaded his arrows again and again, picking them up from the drops that littered the ground. We’re killing some of the mobs, he knew. But there were so many!

  When he heard the roar of another ravager, he turned warily. The massive beast was only feet away, its head lowered and its illager-like eyes fixed on Mason. Any moment now, it would charge.

  Mason raised his crossbow, but he knew a single arrow wouldn’t be enough to drop the beast. Where was Asher and his enchanted crossbow? Too far away—much too far away.

  As the beast charged, Mason could only run.

  He raced around the village well and through a vegetable garden, tripping over a patch of pumpkin vines. Behind him, the beast’s hooves thundered against the earth.

  Mason zigged and zagged, but he could feel the ravager’s hot breath on the back of his neck. It’s getting closer, he thought with horror. I’ll never make it!

  His legs felt weak, as if any moment now, they would give out beneath him. When he glanced over his shoulder, he was staring straight into the ravager’s angry eyes.

  Keep running! Mason willed himself. Don’t look back!

  But as he swung his head back around, something stepped in his path. The iron golem staggered forward, tall as a giant mushroom and solid as obsidian.

  “No!” Mason cried. He couldn’t fight the golem—he wasn’t strong enough.

  Then he saw that the golem’s fierce red eyes weren’t fixed on him. They were glaring at the beast behind him. The iron golem was heading straight for the ravager.

  Smack!

  As the two collided, Mason felt the impact. He flew forward, his arms outstretched. Then he closed his eyes and hit the cobblestone road.

  CHAPTER 12

  Mason tumbled, head over heels, across the road. When he finally rolled to a stop, every bone in his body ached. He lay still for just a moment, his eyes closed, listening to the battle raging behind him.

  Clank, clank! It sounded as if the iron golem was winning.

  Get up! Mason urged himself. There are more mobs to fight. Get up!

  He pushed himself to his knees just as a pillager released his arrow.

  Thwack!

  Mason ducked, dropping beside the steps to the butcher shop. When he heard a grunt behind him, he turned.

  A witch staggered backward, an arrow stuck in her side. The pillager had struck her by accident! And she was angry, her brow furrowed over her piercing purple eyes.

  Instantly, she guzzled down a healing potion. As she pulled another bottle from her robes, Mason flattened himself to the wall, trying to hide. But the deadly potion wasn’t meant for him. The witch took aim and sent the glass bottle hurtling toward the pillager. Smash!

  They’re fighting each other, Mason realized. He pumped his fist in the air. They’re fighting each other!

  He raced through the street, dodging the fallen pillager. He leaped over a dropped saddle, too, which meant the iron golem had won its battle with the ravager.

  “Asher!” Mason cried when he saw his brother and Chase crouched near the village well. “I have a plan.”

  Mason dropped low beside them. “Make the mobs fight each other,” he explained. “Get in between them and duck. If one hostile mob attacks another—even by accident—they might stop fighting us and fight each other instead.”

  Chase didn’t look so sure, but Asher was all in. “I’ll tell the girls,” he said. He took off running toward Savannah, who was battling a vindicator.

  Where was Luna? Mason searched for her dark ponytail and red T-shirt. What he saw instead was a group of pillagers approaching the well.

  He ducked and raised a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he told Chase. “Stay down and follow me.”

  Mason crept around the well, keeping the cobblestone wall between himself and the pillagers, until more mobs approached from behind.

  “We’re trapped!” Chase whispered, pointing at the vindicators heading their way.

  “No we’re not,” said Mason. “Watch!” He popped up from behind the well and fired an arrow at the pillagers.

  Immediately, they fired back.

  Mason ducked and heard the grunt of a vindicator behind him. The mob snarled with anger and then charged the pillagers, its axe raised high above its head.

  “It worked,” cheered Chase. “I can’t believe it worked!”

  But there were still more mobs to fight.

  “Let’s split up,” Mason whispered. He darted out from behind the well and stayed low, rounding the corner of the library and heading toward the leathersmith’s shop.

  Everywhere he looked, mob drops littered the ground. Slimy spider eyes and gunpowder. Axes and crossbows. Another saddle or two. And emeralds—lots of emeralds. But Mason kept his eyes straight ahead, searching for hostile mobs.

  He heard the clanging of the iron golem coming from the other end of the village. He’s on our side, Mason knew. But where was Luna?

  A sick feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. Had something happened to her?

  He dodged a pillager, turning to fire only after he was safely behind a gate. Thwack! He didn’t stop to see if the pillager had fallen. Suddenly, Mason wanted only to find Luna.

  When he saw a girl in a ponytail crouched beside the porch, his heart skipped a beat. But as she turned her head, he saw that it was Savannah.

  He waited until she had launched her trident at a witch. Then he called her name, so he wou
ldn’t startle her. “Savannah! Where’s Luna?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. That way maybe.” She pointed back toward the library.

  Mason sighed and headed back the way he had come, darting through lawns and gardens. He didn’t see any more mobs. But he didn’t see Luna either.

  When he spotted her pinkish-orange backpack on the ground, his heart sunk. As he slung it over his shoulder, he heard the clink of potion bottles inside. Luna would never leave this behind! he knew.

  When Asher skidded to a stop beside him, Mason glanced up.

  “We got them all!” Asher shouted. “We won!”

  But instead of returning Asher’s fist-bump, Mason gave him the news. “Something happened to Luna,” he whispered. “I think she’s … gone.” He swallowed hard.

  “No, she’s not.” Asher grinned and gestured down the cobblestone street.

  As Mason turned, his heart leaped. Luna was heading toward them! She held a lead in her hands, and two animals clip-clopped along slowly behind her.

  “Llamas,” said Asher. “You know what that means. Either Luna just took a quick trip to the desert, or …”

  Mason didn’t hear the rest. He was already running. Luna was alright—she wasn’t hurt. And better yet, she had seen the wandering trader!

  When he was a few yards away from Luna, he slowed down, trying not to scare the llamas. “Where did you find them?” he called to Luna. “Where’s the trader?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “The llamas were on their own, standing in someone’s yard.”

  Mason blew out his breath. “The trader can’t be far away,” he said. He spun around, scanning nearby porches and storefronts.

  “Maybe he was killed,” said Luna. “Maybe the llamas need looking after.” She reached up to stroke the cream-colored llama’s woolly neck.

  “No,” Mason said firmly. “He’s here somewhere. Those llamas belong to him.”

  Luna’s face fell—until something meowed from the alley between two shops. “Aw, it’s a cat!” she cried, so loud that the llama beside her snorted and stomped its hoof.

  The cat’s fur was black and white, as if it were wearing a tiny tuxedo. When Mason squatted down to pet it, the cat dodged his reach and darted around his legs.