by E. G. Foley
“Now, if you would like to try to sense a ley line for yourself, boys and girls, here’s a tip. Because of their electromagnetic qualities, ley lines react on a daily rhythm to the energy of the sun. They are weakest at night, and the strongest time to feel them is just before sunrise. When the light starts flooding back in, it charges up the ley lines, and you can really feel the energy come roaring back. It can be pretty dramatic.”
Must try that, thought Jake.
Finnderool took a sip of water and glanced again at the clock, looking slightly annoyed that there was still no sign of his colleague.
“Now, then,” the wood elf continued. “The Lightrider’s role. As you may or may not know, the ley lines have long been used as great energy highways for ethereal beings. In Ireland, for example, they are called the fairy paths. In the Orient, they are known as dragon lines. Other places call them spirit roads.
“Lightriders, then, are the chosen few who are authorized to travel nigh instantaneously through the Grid on the Order’s business. Basically it’s a form of teleportation.
“Within seconds, a Lightrider can travel from Stongehenge to the Great Pyramids of Giza, from Notre Dame Cathedral in France to the Taj Mahal in India, just to use a few, famous examples. Only a Lightrider has the ability and the authority to open up the portals or gateways into the Grid, and then, after being physically transmuted into the form of light, they can travel through it instantly, sending themselves like a message whisking through pneumatic tubes.”
For a long moment, the children were dead-silent, pondering this unimaginable mystery.
At length, a girl with braids raised her hand. “Does it hurt, sir, being changed into light?”
He smiled wryly. “No, I wouldn’t say it hurts. Tingles a bit, like when your foot falls asleep. Only, it’s your whole body. Very well, it stings. Certainly it’s disorienting, having all your molecules scrambled and put back together again in a few seconds’ time.”
“I should think so!” said another amazed boy.
“The new recruits usually get queasy on their first few jumps, but you get used to it. The ones who fare the worst are the VIPs a Lightrider is occasionally asked to escort through the Grid on some mission for the Order.”
“You mean, you don’t have to be a Lightrider to enter the Grid?” a bushy-haired boy in the next row asked.
Finnderool shook his golden head. “Lightriders can take along anyone they choose, though this is not done lightly. They often take Guardians with them, for example, when they need extra security on their assignments. But, here’s the key: nobody else can enter the Grid without a Lightrider. Those who’ve tried usually end up getting vaporized by the planet’s energy. This is one of Gaia’s own natural defense mechanisms. The Lightrider, being personally connected to the Grid, must be present—aha, speak of the devil! Here’s one now.” Finnderool turned toward the door as it opened and arched a brow, with a meaningful glance at the clock as if to say, You’re late.
“Howdy, y’all.”
To the delight of all the kids, the expert chosen to speak to their group about the daily life of a Lightrider in the field was none other than the pincushion cowboy, sans arrows. He took off his ten-gallon hat as he stepped into the room and nodded warily to the group.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Finnderool, “allow me to present one of the Order’s finest, Mr. Josephus Munroe.”
“Call me Tex,” he said.
The wood elf ignored this improper request. “Mr. Munroe serves in President Grant’s division of the Order of the Yew Tree in America.”
Jake was startled to hear this. He had not even been aware they had magical creatures to contend with “across the Pond.”
Finnderool bowed, closing his portion of the presentation, then retreated to the side of the room.
Tex tossed his hat and bloodstained duster coat on a nearby chair, then sauntered to the front, sat on the desk, and asked, chewing a toothpick, “So what do you young’uns wanna know?”
The kids stared at him in surprise.
To be sure, Tex was no ordinary teacher. He propped his feet up on a wooden chair, putting his magnificent, though dusty, alligator boots on display. Jake wondered if he had caught the alligator himself. Probably so. He also wore a flannel shirt and an unusual type of trousers made of dark blue canvas, faded around the knees and reinforced here and there with metal rivets.
Some strange sort of American pants, Jake supposed as he studied him, happy to see that the rugged individual had survived his brush with death. No doubt thanks to the same magical doctors who had fixed him after his Assessment.
Since all the other kids seemed too shy or perhaps too confuzzled by the American to start, Jake raised his hand.
Tex nodded at him. “Son?”
“When you arrived yesterday, sir, how come all those Indians were chasing you?”
“Heh. Now thar’s a yarn worth a-tellin’…”
He proceeded to regale them with the tale of how he had been stalking something called a chupacabra through the deserts of the Southwest.
“But what’s a chupacabra, Mr. Munroe?” another boy asked immediately, barely pronouncing the word.
“Nasty little varmint,” Tex replied in his slow, deadpan drawl, still chewing on his toothpick, a glint of wild humor in his eyes so that nobody could tell if he was serious or joking. “Also known as a goatsucker. Preys on herds o’ whatever it can git. You’d think them Apaches woulda been grateful I was thar to catch the beast and remove it from their territory. Huh.”
“Sir, they could’ve killed you!” the girl with braids exclaimed.
“Welllll, shoot, lil darlin’. I was on their land. Reckon I had it comin’. Tribe’s been at war on and off with the U.S. Army for years. Probably thought I was some kind o’ spy for the federales. But don’t ya fret. Folks from Texas ain’t too easy to kill.” He flashed a sudden mad grin that surely would have terrified any poor outlaw who had to duel against him at high noon.
Jake was in awe.
“I didn’t know the Yanks were connected with the Order, sir,” one of the boys spoke up, at which, the other kids nodded.
“Yep. Got passed down to us from ya’ll. Which ain’t too surprisin’, since we’re real simpatico, your country and our’n.”
“Simpatico? What does that mean?”
“Allies.” Tex shrugged his broad shoulders. “Means y’all need help, we come. We need help, y’all come. Ain’t too hard to figure out. Gotta have friends you can count on in this here vale o’ tears.”
Hear, hear, Jake thought with a grin spreading across his face.
“So, do you have lots of magical creatures in America, Mr. Munroe?”
“Quite a few. None you’d want to meet in a dark alley. Let’s see… Large number o’ witches, good and bad, settled in New England long ago. Though, o’ course, a lot o’ them got burned. We got a Headless Horseman who’s been terrorizing folks around the town of Sleepy Hollow for a couple hundred years now.
“Vampires down in New Orleans,” he mused aloud, stroking his whiskered chin in thought. “Occasional outbreaks of zombies there, too, when the voodoo queens kick up. Very unpleasant creatures, zombies. You meet one o’ them, you aim for the head, no mistakin’.”
“What about ghosts?” Jake asked, entertained.
“Boy, half the South’s filled with ’em!” he exclaimed, leaning back in his chair. “O’ course, most of ’em’s harmless. Chupacabras in the deserts, like I told ya. Some of the Injun tribes have shamans who are shapeshifters. Got to treat ’em with respect. Last thing ya want’s an Injun curse, no sir. What else?
“We got wild, hairy ape-men livin’ in the forests everywhere ya look. Cousin to the yetis, best that we can figger. Gold goblins livin’ under Wall Street in New York. And you don’t even want to know what’s crawlin’ around in our swamps down yonder. Everglades… Mississippi basin… Shoot. That stuff’ll give ya nightmares.”
“Not us, Mr. Munroe,” Jake
assured him boldly, glancing around at his fellow future Lightriders.
“Ha!” Instead of scolding him for bragging, Tex let out a short, loud laugh. “That’s how ya do it, son.”
The bell dinged, but nobody moved.
Even Tex ignored it, launching into another wild story full of unexpected tangents, until the kids glanced around at each other with uncertain smiles.
They were all starting to wonder if the cowboy’s “stretchers” were merely Texas tall tales or true accounts of his adventures. Jake dearly hoped it was the latter.
It all sounded so exciting.
When the students finally filed out of the room, thanking Finnderool and saying their goodbyes to Tex, Jake vowed to visit America someday, especially the Wild West.
Of course, he’d have to bring Archie and his tool-bag along. The Wild West didn’t sound like a place for young ladies, so they’d have to leave the girls at home, and that was just fine with him.
Eager to tell his cousin everything about the Lightrider session, Jake sprinted at top speed down the corridor, skidding to a halt and pausing only long enough to ask a gnome which way to the library.
The little fellow pointed to a door that led outside onto the grassy courtyard in the center of the palace’s massive quadrangle.
Flush with dreams of heroic derring-do, he hurried out and strode across the courtyard. The library was housed in its own, chapel-like building, semi-attached to the back of the palace. It was very old, with medieval arches and intricate stone carvings around the heavy door.
Jake pulled it open. As he stepped into the dimly lit, high-ceilinged space, he saw thousands of books on tall, somber shelves. But instead of the quiet he expected, a ruckus of angry shouts, taunting, and yelling was coming from somewhere nearby. The distant echoes bounced around under the vaulted ceiling, though somehow the noise was not loud enough to wake the ancient librarian, who went on snoring away at his desk.
Jake frowned, cocking his head and listening. It sounded like some kind of fight was going on.
Then his stomach clenched as he recognized a few of the voices.
“Let him go, you brute!”
“Put my brother down!”
Dani? Isabelle?
Oh, no. What now?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Trouble with Trolls
Jake dashed off, following the sound of the fight. Heart pounding, he looked in all the bookshelf aisles he passed, but there was no sign of them. The echoing quality of the ancient stone library made it hard to tell which way the sound was coming from.
“Leave my brother alone!”
That was definitely Isabelle, which meant it was Archie who was under threat. Blast it, where are they?
The yelling grew louder as he neared the back of the library, and came upon another large door. He shoved it open and found it was an exit onto the grounds of Merlin Hall.
As soon as he looked outside, his eyes narrowed. He had found them, all right.
Out on the green, the girls were yelling at the huge, ugly troll boy from Dr. Plantagenet’s zoo. Ogden Trumbull had a hold of Archie and was dangling him upside-down, one oversized, stone-gray hand wrapped around his skinny ankles. Archie was doing his best to reason with the brute and to keep his spectacles from falling off.
Jake stepped outside in a fury. “Hey, ugly!” he shouted. “Put the genius down!”
“Jake!” Dani cried. “Thank gosh you’re here!”
Og looked over as Jake marched toward them, glaring at the bully, his heart pounding in wrath.
“You want to pick on somebody, why don’t you fight me?” he challenged.
“Uh-oh, you’re in trouble now,” Dani taunted the creature.
Og glanced over and scowled. “Who are you?” he grunted.
“I’m that kid’s cousin, and if you don’t let him go right now, I’m going to make you very sorry.”
The hybrid sneered at him. “If you say so.”
To Jake’s horror, Og whipped Archie back like a ragdoll and threw him violently into the air, like you’d throw a stone.
The girls screamed and Archie shouted in terror as he went flying skyward in a wide arc, arms and legs pinwheeling frantically.
Just in time, Jake summoned up his telekinesis and caught Archie on a cushion of air as he started plummeting back to earth.
He checked his rage and, with a steady current of energy from his fingertips, lowered his friend safely to the ground.
“Thanks, coz,” Archie said, sounding shaken.
At once, the girls rushed over to see to him, gathering up his papers and the contents of his trusty tool-bag, which were scattered all over the ground.
With his cousin safely out of the troll boy’s grasp, Jake, still enraged, did not take his eyes off Ogden.
The brute turned to smirk at him.
“Are you all right, Arch?” Jake called in a taut voice.
“I-I think so.”
“What happened?” he demanded.
“I made the mistake of trying to be nice to that…thing!” Archie burst out, pointing at his tormentor. “I was only trying to help him t-turn the pages of a baby book he was trying to read, and just like that, the brute attacked me. For no reason!”
“I don’t need your help!” Ogden roared at Archie in his garbled voice. “I don’t want your pity! You can go hang!”
“You see that? Honestly!” Archie spluttered, gesturing at Ogden. “Monstrous toad! They should lock you up in one of those zoo pens because, whatever you are, you aren’t fit for civilized society!”
Og’s reply was a huge bogey, which he spat on the ground, then grinned, as though proud to prove the truth of Archie’s words.
The girls gagged.
“Oh, that’s very nice,” Archie scolded in disgust. He glanced at Jake. “I tried to run away, but this was as far as I got. He’s faster than he looks.”
“Apologize to my cousin, and then be on your way,” Jake commanded the hulk in kingly tones.
“Don’t tell me what to do, you twerp,” Og rumbled.
“You’re askin’ for it,” Jake warned, unconsciously beginning to sound like the rough street kid he used to be until a year ago.
The troll boy guffawed. “You’re no bigger than a goose turd! What can you possibly do to me?”
Jake smiled coldly. “Well, if you insist. Let me show you.” With another burst of angry power from his fingertips (and, admittedly, a slight pain in his head, for he was still not fully recovered from yesterday’s ordeal), he did the same thing to Og via telekinesis that he had done to Archie by brute strength.
Grunting with effort, Jake lifted Og off the ground. Suspending him in midair was not quite enough, so with a wicked smile, Jake slowly turned Archie’s tormentor upside-down.
It was amusing to see the half-troll struggle and flail. With nothing to push off against but empty air, Og could gain no leverage to escape.
Well, he brought it on himself, Jake thought in cold satisfaction. Living on the streets had taught him one thing about survival. You had to fight back viciously against bullies right away to make them get the point.
Bullies only attacked nice people because they seemed like easy prey. But when a nice person fought back like a demon unexpectedly—and even better, brought allies of his own—bullies usually ran away with their tails tucked between their legs and didn’t come back.
That was the outcome Jake desired.
He hadn’t the slightest interest in hearing Og’s excuses as to why he had attacked Archie. No reason would have been good enough. A bully was a bully, and a troll was a troll, and that was all Jake really needed to know.
Dani understood this, too, having come from the rookery, London’s own brick-and-mortar jungle. The sheltered Archie and Isabelle, however, exchanged a startled glance.
“Ha, ha! Not so scary now, are you, ugly?” the carrot-head yelled, pointing and jeering at Ogden while Jake hoisted him higher into the air.
Still, after th
e strain of lifting baby Stonehenge megaliths yesterday with his mind, Jake did not want to risk blacking out again and leaving his friends at Og’s mercy.
Best to wrap up this little lesson.
“Put me down!” the brute roared.
“Ask me nicely,” Jake taunted, but Ogden just growled.
Relenting, Jake lowered the upside-down troll until Og dangled in midair on about eye-level with him. Then he sauntered closer, careful to stay out of reach of Og’s powerful, gangly arms.
“If you ever lay a finger on my cousin again or any of my friends, I’ll pulverize ye. Savvy?” he asked, sounding as mean as he possibly could.
“Urrrgh,” Og rumbled.
Confident he had made his point, Jake stepped back and released his telekinetic hold, feeling magnanimous for his mercy. Ogden tumbled onto the ground.
But what happened next was not what Jake had expected.
He had thought Og would slink away in shame at being bested, but instead, the hybrid suddenly sprang up off the ground and lunged at him.
It all happened so fast.
Jake only had time to get in one good move to try to ward off the attack; he leaped up and kicked Ogden in the stomach.
It was like kicking a boulder.
The next thing he knew, the hybrid’s huge hand was wrapped around his throat. His feet dangled off the ground. He clutched the rocklike forearm, trying to peel away the iron fingers around his throat.
It didn’t do much good.
With Troll Boy squeezing the life out him, Jake was vaguely aware of the girls screaming and Archie trying to find anything in his tool-bag that might be of use.
“Derek, help!” Dani’s ear-splitting plea was Jake’s first indication that the Guardians had come strolling onto the scene.
Well, hurrah for Guardian instincts, Jake thought, beginning to turn blue. Talk about good timing.
But when he looked over, Derek and Maddox St. Trinian were just watching curiously, arms folded, as though they wouldn’t dream of stepping on his toes, if he wished to vanquish this enemy himself.
Aw, come on! Kicking his feet and pulling against the giant hand around his throat, Jake tried to turn his head to scowl impatiently at Derek.
