by Tony Abbott
Eric looked up at the high walls of the room. On every one, shining in the light of the pool, were small round stones just like his. They, too, were carved with symbols — names — in the old language of Droon. Thin glistening lines connected one stone to another to another in a giant web.
“My stone is like these. Who are they?”
Wizards of Droon.
Eric went to the wall and peered closely at the stones. He believed he saw Galen’s name and Urik’s. Not far away were Queen Relna’s name and Keeah’s, too.
Near Keeah’s was an empty place, waiting for a stone to fill it.
Go ahead…. and behold your future …
As the music of the water wove around him, Eric held the stone up between his thumb and first finger. Trembling as he reached, he placed it in the vacant spot on the wall.
The stone clicked into place. When it did, a sudden silvery light flooded out from the crystal tomb and into his eyes.
“Whoa!” he gasped, stumbling back from the wall as he was struck with a vision of the future.
What he saw was a vast desert at night. Moonbeams reflected off one rolling dune after another.
And there they were, the four of them, Julie, Neal, Keeah, and him. They rode four pilkas side by side at the head of a long twisting caravan.
Glistening on the horizon far, far in the distance stood a fabulous city of light.
Eric smiled. “It looks like a long journey.”
How long he watched the four of them, if it were hours, or if it was only an instant, Eric couldn’t tell. But when the vision faded, he was left standing in the room.
“That was awesome,” he whispered. “It was us. Together. Just like I hope it will always be.”
Your road will not be easy, Eric. Among the good days, dark times will come. For you. For Keeah. For Julie and Neal, too. The darkest of all your lives.
He breathed in. “Will we be okay?”
That is a question you yourselves will answer. Help one another. Help Julie. She has a power now, and perhaps more than one. Together, you will —
The voice stopped. The light began to dim.
“Zara? What will happen?” asked Eric, straining to hear her voice again. “Zara, tell me….”
A stone shifted in the wall behind him.
He turned.
“Ooof! Owww! Yikes! Hey, Eric — !”
It was Neal, groaning as he tumbled into the chamber from the room above. Keeah and Julie crashed to the floor behind him.
“Eric!” said Keeah, jumping over to him. “Are you all right? We saw you fall and then — oh! Oh, my gosh! Oh!”
They all stared at the glass box.
“It’s Zara,” said Eric softly, noticing for the first time that it no longer hurt to say her name.
“What just happened here?” said Neal.
Eric smiled at his friends, especially Julie. Her hand was bandaged by leaves wound with Max’s spider silk. “I just had a vision,” he said. “I learned about all of us — about our future.”
Just then, they heard a great cheer go up from the monkeys outside, and the name Galen was shouted over and over.
A moment later, the tall, blue-robed wizard came down the shaft and into the room.
“I have come with some news of Salamandra,” Galen said.
Then he stopped and stared.
No one spoke as he approached the glass tomb. Tears rolled down his weathered cheeks and were lost in his white beard.
“Your mother,” whispered Eric. “It was her all the time, sending us dreams from this tree.”
“The Faraway,” said Julie.
The old wizard nodded his head slowly. “And you have found her. At last … at last! Her love of Droon grows from where her body rests. She will never be lost again.”
Galen stood silently for a moment, then looked up at his friends. “Come. Let us go now. Much happens in Droon that requires us.”
Eric longed to hear more of Zara’s words, but found that along with the silver light her voice had already faded. But it was okay. He was with his friends. That was what really mattered.
Silently, reverently, they all stepped away from the tomb.
When they climbed out of the temple, Ortha and the monkeys were jumping up and down.
“The sun. Look. It’s back!” cried Twee.
It was true. The dark brown haze had rolled back completely and sunlight shone through the branches of the tree onto the silver stones of the temple.
“And look there,” said Ortha.
The wingwolf lay in its vine trap, frozen to solid stone.
“He’s just a lump of rock!” said Neal.
“And so he will be as long as the sun of Droon shines on him,” said Galen.
“Which will be forever, if Woot and I have anything to say about it!” added Twee.
“Woo-hoo!” Julie slapped high fives with Keeah and Neal, and again with Max and Eric.
“Our victory today has driven back the Dark Lands!” said Galen, smiling. “We have struck a blow against all the forces of evil in Droon. Today has been good. But even as we win here, wicked Salamandra stirs up trouble in the west!”
“My mother and father need me,” said Keeah.
“And we shall go,” said Galen. “But first, a little unfinished business — Max!”
The spider troll brought Jabbo forward.
The little dragon kept his eyes down. “Jabbo made much trouble for Droon. But he still bakes the best pies. Shall he bake a gizzleberry pie for the great wizard?”
Galen frowned at the little dragon, then, with Ortha by his side, his expression softened.
“Yes, perhaps. And I know just the place for that. Firefrog Mountain. You can bake, and we can keep an eye on you.”
The kids remembered Firefrog Mountain. It was an island far across Droon, inhabited by friendly watchers called firefrogs.
“We shall bring him there,” said Ortha.
Woot saluted. “And Twee and I will help!”
“Now we must begin our journey back,” said Galen. “And so must you, children. Look!”
Above the high tree, shining like a rainbow in the new, golden sunlight, were the magic stairs to the Upper World.
“I guess it’s that time again,” said Neal.
As the three friends started for the tree, Eric glanced once more upon the temple.
“This really is a special place,” he said.
“And it shall be honored,” said Ortha solemnly. “Now that all of our forest is in sunlight again, we shall rebuild the temple of Zara.”
“Sparr had better not set foot here again,” said Galen. “Yet, if I know him, he will try. He will try.”
While Galen and Ortha prepared to leave the forest, Keeah hugged her friends. “Good-bye, Eric, Neal. And Julie, take care of that cut.”
“I will,” she said. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
Eric frowned for a moment, wondering what would happen now, and what Julie’s secret wish was. Then he remembered the vision of the four friends. They would be together for a long time to come. Whatever happened, it would be okay.
“Good-bye, Keeah,” said Neal. “At least for now. We probably won’t stay away too long.”
“I hope not!” she said.
Eric smiled and nodded at the temple. “I’m sure our dreams will call us back soon.”
As Ortha, Galen, Max, Keeah, and the monkeys hurried away to their new adventures, the three friends climbed up the great tree toward the stairs.
When they poked their heads through the top branches, they glimpsed again the sunlit sea of trees swaying all the way to the horizon.
Julie took a deep breath. “Guys?” she said.
“Yeah?” said Eric.
“Do you think it will always be like this?”
Neal grinned. “I hope so. I love the adventure. The excitement. The monkey baseball! Eric?”
Eric glanced at the stairs shimmering above them, then smiled. “I think it’ll just keep ge
tting better. And the best part is, it’s no dream. This is for real.”
Neal whooped. “I like the sound of that! Come on. After a quick round of your dad’s waffles, we’re going to build some tree houses!”
Laughing, Julie turned to the stairs. Then, in a blur of speed, she flew straight up in the air. As if she had wings.
“Oh, my gosh!” she gasped at the top of the stairs. “I always wanted to fly!”
Eric and Neal stared at each other, gulped, then raced up the stairs after her.
“Slow down!” said Eric Hinkle as he and his friend Julie raced around the track behind school.
It was Field Day, and their class was outside shooting hoops, playing catch, jumping, swinging, climbing, and running.
Eric glanced down at Julie’s feet.
Well, at least he was running.
“Someone will see you,” Eric huffed.
“But it’s so much fun!” said Julie, pumping her arms and legs as if she were running fast.
She wasn’t running. Her feet never touched the ground. Julie was flying.
Eric hustled to keep up with her. “Having powers is fun, but you have to keep them a secret —”
“See ya!” said Julie, zipping away and leaving him in the dust.
“We need to keep you-know-where a secret, too!” Eric called out as he slowed to a jog.
Julie knew where. So did their friend Neal.
The place to keep secret was Droon.
Droon was the strange land they had discovered one day under Eric’s basement.
It was a world filled with wonderful friends, like the great and powerful Galen Longbeard, and Keeah, a young wizard and princess, and Max, a furry little eight-legged spider troll.
Droon was also a land of mystery and magic.
In fact, it was on the kids’ last adventure there that Julie was scratched by an ancient magical creature called a wingwolf.
Eric remembered the prophecy he’d been told.
The one who strikes the wolf at noon, shall earn a secret wish in Droon.
Julie’s secret wish, she told Eric and Neal later, had always been to fly. And thanks to her battle with the wingwolf, now she could.
Still pretending to run, Julie flew around the track to where Neal was dribbling a soccer ball.
Eric walked across the field to them.
“Julie, that was so awesome!” said Neal.
She laughed. “Last night I flew out over my backyard. I almost fell, but I keep surprising myself. On the stairs at home, playing hoops — it’s just so easy to take off and start flying —”
“And easy to be caught,” said Eric with a frown. “And besides, you never know if the wingwolf gave you other powers you don’t know about.”
He didn’t want to sound like a big brother, but he knew that powers had a way of coming out when you least expected them to.
“Sorry,” said Julie. “I guess I should be nervous. But I always wanted to fly. You already have powers. This is really new to me.”
That was true. Eric had had powers ever since he was accidentally zapped by Keeah’s magic. He couldn’t control them all, but he hoped he was getting better at it.
“Anyway,” said Neal, “with crazy Salamandra on the loose in Droon, we should probably train as much as we can, right?”
They shuddered to recall the name.
Salamandra, Princess of Shadowthorn.
Traveling through time in the Upper World, Salamandra had stolen magic from the greatest wizards of the past. She had become very powerful. Now she was in Droon.
“I can’t fly or shoot sparks,” said Neal. “But watch this.” He began bouncing a soccer ball on his head. Boing! “Ouch!” Boing! “Ouch!” Boing! “Ouch! Pretty — ouch! — cool, huh?”
“Doesn’t it hurt your head?” asked Eric.
Neal shrugged. “No more than math class.”
Weeeee! Mr. Frando, the gym coach, blew his whistle. “Last event of the day, kids,” he announced. “The soccer kick! Bring all the balls in.”
As Neal rounded up the balls he’d been using, there was a sudden whooshing sound overhead.
The three friends looked up to see a soccer ball in mid-flight, zigzagging across the field. It dipped sharply, circled their heads, then arched up and plopped down onto the school roof.
Eric turned to Neal. “How did you —”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I don’t have powers.”
“But that ball does,” said Julie. “It’s like …”
Eric gasped. “Whoa! You don’t think it’s our soccer ball, do you? The one that Keeah put her magic spell on?”
Long ago, after their first visit to Droon, Keeah had enchanted the kids’ soccer ball to give them messages whenever they were needed in Droon.
“If it is our soccer ball,” said Neal, “how are we going to get up to the school roof?”
Julie grinned. “Create a distraction. I’ll fly up!”
“A distraction?” said Neal, his face lighting up. “You’ve come to the right guy. Watch this!”
Neal grabbed a soccer ball, started bouncing it on his head, and ran onto the field, yelling, “Blaga-blaga-yee-yee-yee! Go-team-go!”
Everyone stared at him, then started laughing.
Even Mr. Frando laughed. “Neal, you’re a nut! But full of spirit. Everyone — yell like Neal!”
While the whole class was yelling and chasing Neal around the field, Julie leaped up.
As if she had invisible wings, she fluttered all the way up to the school roof.
Eric checked the field. No one had seen her.
A moment later, she leaned over the edge. “Eric, get up here right away! Find Neal, too!”
While the other kids gathered for the last event, Eric waved Neal over. They both slipped into the school and charged up the stairs to the roof.
Julie called them over. “Take a look at this.”
Holding the ball in front of her, she let it go. But the ball didn’t drop. It hovered in the air.
“Whoa!” said Neal. “It is our magic ball. Do you think someone is calling us to Droon?”
All of a sudden, the ball’s white and black patches began to shift, moving across the surface until the ball was entirely black.
Eric shivered. “This doesn’t look good.”
“You think it has something to do with Salamandra?” asked Julie.
Before anyone could answer, letters appeared on the ball, as if written by an invisible hand.
G … A … L … E … N
Eric staggered back. “Oh, my gosh. Galen’s trying to send us a message. What is it? What?”
But as quickly as they had appeared, the letters vanished. Then the ball dropped, bounced, and lay still, a normal soccer ball once more.
Julie snatched it up. “This means one thing, at least. We have to get to Droon now.”
They hustled down the stairs and out to the field just in time to hear Coach Frando’s whistle marking the end of the last event.
A moment later, the dismissal bell rang.
“I can’t believe we missed the soccer kick,” Neal grumbled.
Eric smiled. “Maybe we’ll have a chance to kick Salamandra out of Droon. Let’s go.”
The three friends ran for their bus. Twenty minutes later, they raced across Eric’s front yard, burst through the kitchen, and tramped down to his basement.
Julie set the enchanted soccer ball on the workbench, while Neal and Eric pulled two heavy cartons away from a small door under the stairs.
Beyond the door was a tiny room, empty except for a lightbulb hanging from the low ceiling.
They crowded in. Neal switched on the light.
“No matter how many times we do this,” said Julie, “it still gives me chills.”
“Me, too,” said Neal. “Every time.”
Eric grinned. “Ditto for me.”
He shut the door and switched off the light.
The room went dark for a moment, then — whoosh! — the
floor disappeared. In its place, shimmering in its own bright light, was a set of stairs curving down and away from the house.
Eric took the first step. “I hope Galen’s not in trouble or anything. We’d better hurry.”
Step-by-step, the kids descended through pink clouds, until they found themselves above a desert of rolling sand dunes.
But the normally bright sky over the dunes was streaked with smoke.
Julie frowned. “What’s going on here?”
“It looks like Lumpland,” said Neal, “home of Khan and the Lumpies — whoa — look at that!”
Nestled between a large dune and a small village of mud houses, was a stone tower.
They had seen it before in different parts of Droon. It was Galen’s enchanted traveling tower.
And there, pacing in a circle around the base of the tower, her hair a long cascade of prickly thorns, her skin purple and scaly, was the wicked sorceress herself.
Salamandra, Princess of Shadowthorn.
“It’s her,” said Julie. “And she looks mad.”
“Is she ever anything else?” asked Neal.
In her hand, Salamandra held a tall wooden staff. At its tip, a cluster of pointed thorns burned with a violent green flame.
“Wizard, give me what I seek!” Salamandra shouted, her catlike eyes gleaming yellow. “You know where it is — I want it now!”
Galen appeared at the tower’s upper window. His face looked stern. “Never!” he shouted.
“That’s right — never!” chirped his spider troll friend, Max, trembling next to him.
Salamandra narrowed her eyes. “Then prepare for a fight!” She aimed her staff, and a blast of flaming thorns shot up through the air.
“Holy cow!” gasped Eric.
Vvvv-boom! The thorns struck the tower, rocking it back and forth in the sand.
“Oh!” cried Max. “Oh, dear — help!”
Text copyright © 2003 by Robert T. Abbott.
Illustrations copyright © 2003 by Scholastic Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.
SCHOLASTIC, LITTLE APPLE, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, February 2003
Cover art by Tim Jessell
e-ISBN 978-0-545-41830-0
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
