“Okay,” she finally agreed. “You go to sleep, and I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”
“Don’t forget,” Marcus said. He stretched out on the ground, rested his head on his arm, and fell asleep almost instantly.
* * *
What seemed like only minutes later, Kyja was shaking him. Marcus sat up and rubbed his eyes. Stretching, he felt as if every muscle in his body had been viciously twisted and pulled completely out of shape.
“Ugh,” he grunted.
“Still sure you want to take a watch?” Kyja asked softly.
He nodded.
Kyja handed him a thick shawl that felt dewy to the touch. “It’s a little damp from the night air,” she said, “but it should keep you warm.”
She kicked another piece of wood into the flames and helped Marcus stand up and move to a nearby fallen log.
“Any sign of the wizard?” Marcus asked.
Kyja shook her head with a worried frown.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll be here by morning.”
“I hope so.” Kyja started toward the fire and hesitated. “Don’t wander out into the darkness. Keep the fire burning at all times. And wake me up if you see or hear anything. Most of the really dangerous creatures live in the woods or the mountains, but there are plenty of things that can hurt you even here if you’re not careful.”
Marcus waved her back to the camp. “They can’t be any worse than Chet and his friends.”
She gave him an uncertain look before curling up on the spot of grass he’d just left.
Marcus pulled the shawl over his head and folded his arms beneath it. The night air was cold, but after a few minutes he began to warm up. Looking out into the darkness, he saw a white mist had risen from the ground while he was sleeping. It spun and twirled at the slightest breeze, as if it had a life of its own.
The night sky, however, was perfectly clear. As he looked up, the reality of where he was hit him like a lead fist. His stomach lurched and goose bumps rose on the backs of his arms. The stars, twinkling like gems on a bed of velvet, formed none of the constellations he was familiar with—no Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, or North Star. Even stranger, three different moons were visible in the night sky.
He wasn’t just visiting a friend in another state or in some foreign country. He was on a different planet. A different solar system. Maybe even a different galaxy. The thought made him feel light- headed.
He thought about what Kyja had said about magic. She’d asked him earlier if there was magic on Earth. For a moment he’d remembered his ability to grow dim and to know things in advance. It almost seemed like magic at times. But it couldn’t be. It was more of a talent. Like people who could multiply huge numbers in their head or wiggle their ears.
He turned his eyes toward Kyja, who seemed to be resting fitfully. He hadn’t spent much time around girls in his life, and the few he’d met were always giggling or fussing with their hair. But this one was different. For one thing, she hadn’t shied away from him because of his crippled leg and arm. Over dinner, she’d asked him about his injuries—but not in a cruel way. She’d allowed him to tell her as much as he was comfortable with and hadn’t pushed any further. And she hadn’t recoiled when he needed help climbing onto Chase’s saddle.
He hadn’t known her long—certainly not long enough to feel he could trust her. Still, she’d been brave under circumstances that would have driven most kids to tears—and probably most adults, too.
A few feet away from her, Chance was asleep in the grass, and above them both, Riph Raph perched on his tree branch with his head tucked under one wing. Marcus liked the horse. On the ride that afternoon, they had swapped jokes until Kyja told them they were driving her crazy.
He still wasn’t sure about the skyte. He thought that with time, Riph Raph and he might come to be—
Something snapped behind him, and Marcus spun around. He stared out into the night, but saw nothing. Carefully, he slipped off the log and peered over it, wishing he’d thought to bring over one of the big sticks from the fire. Trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he gazed through the mist for some sign of movement. He should probably wake Kyja, but what if it was nothing?
He thought he saw a shape looming out of the night and leaned forward a little. A gust of wind parted the mist for a moment, and a pair of eyes gleamed in the silvery moonlight. Marcus jerked backward as the white curtain closed again. He glanced toward Kyja—knowing he should wake her—then back toward the spot where he’d seen the eyes.
Maybe it was the wizard.
As if it had heard Marcus’s thoughts, a large black wolf emerged from the mist several yards away. Its eyes glimmered in the night.
“Master Therapass?” Marcus stammered, shrinking backward.
Instantly the figure transformed from a wolf into a stooped, old man. Marcus couldn’t make out any of the man’s features, but he could see the long, gray beard Kyja had described.
“Put out the fire,” the man commanded without coming any closer.
“What?” Marcus looked over his shoulder, hoping Kyja would wake up.
“The fire,” the man said more urgently. His voice sounded gravelly and out of breath. “Put it out now. They’re only a few minutes behind me. Extinguish the light before they see it. You haven’t any time to waste.”
“Right.” Marcus scurried as fast as he could, picked up a pot Kyja had left to soak overnight, and dumped water onto the fire. The flames diminished as steam rose into the air.
“More,” the man called out.
Marcus began throwing handfuls of dirt onto the fire.
“What’s going on?” Kyja sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“The wizard is here,” Marcus said, continuing to put out the fire.
“Master Therapass?” Kyja looked up as the man moved forward out of the shadows.
“No!” she screamed.
Marcus turned from the smoldering fire and froze. In the shadows, at a distance, the figure had looked like an old man. But now he was much closer, and Marcus could see something was horribly wrong. The beard was not a beard at all, but merely a waggling piece of gray flesh shaped like a beard. And above it, the man’s face was a blank white surface with just a hint of where eyes and mouth should be.
Marcus reached for a stick, but before he could move, the figure disappeared from sight—replaced by a large, menacing shape. Something shot out of the darkness, and a hot and sticky substance wrapped around Marcus, pinning him in place.
Chapter 20
The Mimicker
Wrapped inside a net of thick, sticky cords, Kyja watched the massive creature make its way toward them. A few feet away, she could hear Marcus panting as he tried to fight his way loose.
“Stop struggling,” she whispered. “The more you fight, the tighter it gets.”
She was afraid he would keep fighting anyway. Many people did, trying to break free until they could no longer breathe. “If you relax, the web won’t be so tight.”
Finally he stopped moving, although she could still hear his rough breathing. She couldn’t blame him. It took everything she had to keep from clawing at the sticky ropes herself.
“What is that thing?” Marcus gasped.
“A mimicker. It reads your thoughts and creates an image of what you’re thinking about.”
“I thought it was Master Therapass. It told me to put out the fire.” Marcus sounded as if he was trying not to panic. Kyja couldn’t blame him. The creature was almost to their campsite now. From the pincers of its armored legs to the top of its multi-eyed head, it was taller than Chance and nearly twice as long.
A segmented tail was tucked against its back, and a pair of thick, wicked-looking claws waved back and forth before it, testing the air.
“It wanted the fire out because it can’t stand the light.” Kyja tried to keep her voice composed, but her heart was racing. Because of their sensitivity to light, mimickers stayed in their undergr
ound nests during the day and normally avoided any type of illumination at night. That this one had approached their camp meant it was either sick or very, very hungry. And as far as she knew, mimickers only ate live food.
Kyja slipped her fingers through an opening in the web, trying to reach a piece of wood she could throw onto the embers, but she was too far away. She glanced up at the empty tree branch above her. Riph Raph was gone.
Avoiding the fire pit, the mimicker lifted Kyja’s food bag with one of its thick claws and examined the sack with its many eyes before tossing it aside.
“Cast a spell,” Marcus cried out. The creature turned and trundled toward him. Its armored plates rubbed against each other, making a soft clicking sound. “Please!”
Kyja licked her lips, desperately trying to think of some way out of this.
The mimicker stopped just above where Marcus lay pinned to the ground. It tilted its massive head and leaned down, studying him. Kyja could hear Marcus gasping for breath. It wouldn’t be long before he lost all control and the net shut so tightly around his chest he wouldn’t be able to breathe. The mimicker closed its claw on Marcus’s leg and lifted him into the air.
“Do something!” he screamed to Kyja. “Use your magic.”
Kyja pushed at the webbing; instantly it tightened around her. She ripped at the thick strands with her teeth even though she knew it was hopeless. “I can’t!” she wailed, tears burning in her eyes.
The mimicker swung Marcus back and forth like a toy on the end of a string. “What do . . . you mean . . . you can’t?” Marcus’s voice was hoarse with pain and terror.
“I can’t do magic.” Kyja sobbed. She should have admitted it from the start. She never should have let Marcus take a watch by himself. This was all her fault.
The mimicker opened its giant mandibles. A soft keening sound came from deep within its throat. Marcus screamed as the creature raised him to its mouth. Kyja clamped her eyes shut.
All at once a high-pitched screech filled the air, and a bright light flashed through Kyja’s closed eyelids. She forced her eyes open just in time to see a blue ball of flame explode on top of the mimicker’s head.
The mimicker raised its claws to protect its eyes. Still holding Marcus, it began to back away. Another fireball shot out of the darkness. This one struck the creature on its exposed tail. It spun around, searching for its attacker.
A flurry of wings and a long blue tail appeared out of the night sky as three more fireballs hit the mimicker in rapid succession.
“Riph Raph!” Kyja shouted.
The skyte wheeled about in mid-air, let out a terrific roar for such a small creature, and dove directly at the mimicker’s head. At the last minute, he coughed out a ball of flame that struck the mimicker directly in its sensitive eyes, and rose back into the air.
With a wail of pain, the mimicker flung Marcus aside.
Riph Raph turned to make another run, and the mimicker suddenly rose up on its back legs.
“Look out!” Kyja screamed. But it was too late. As Riph Raph banked away, the mimicker lifted one of its huge black claws and knocked the skyte out of the air. Riph Raph crashed to the ground in a crumpled heap near Marcus.
At once, the mimicker was after the skyte, snapping its claws with vicious fury. Riph Raph tried to take flight, but his left wing flapped uselessly.
Kyja struggled, helpless in her webbing. But the net which trapped Marcus had been cut slightly by the mimicker’s claw.
As the mimicker descended on Riph Raph, Marcus managed to get his left leg free and shove it in front of the beast. The mimicker stumbled over Marcus’s raised foot. Roaring with rage, it opened its mouth and plunged toward Marcus.
At that moment, an explosion rocked the air, and a whirlwind of blue and green flames shot up from the fire pit. The mimicker squealed and swung its head away from the light. Into the fire’s glow leapt a huge, gray wolf. Swiftly rotating its backside toward the wolf, the mimicker shot a string of sticky web.
As if it knew what was coming, the wolf ducked under the web and charged.
Instantaneously, the mimicker was replaced by a slasher, a creature Kyja had heard of but never actually seen. Nearly twice as tall as the mimicker, the slasher had two snarling heads—one at each end of its body—and six claw-like legs. Covering its muscular body, dozens of ropey, bristled limbs swung wildly about in the air. As Kyja watched, one of the limbs snapped like a whip at the wolf.
With a sharp bark, the wolf leapt aside, narrowly avoiding the whip which dug a deep groove in the ground at its feet. A second later, another whip barely missed the wolf’s head.
Before the slasher could strike a third time, the wolf snapped its teeth closed on the creature’s limb, tearing off its tip. Black fluid gushed from the open wound.
The slasher gave a horrible shriek. Again it changed, this time into an ugly, toad-shaped monster with four large, watery eyes and a squat body covered with heavily-armored plates. One of its legs had a deep red gash in it.
With a wet-sounding, “Grok, grok,” the monster opened its mouth and spat a stream of vile liquid onto the wolf. Immediately the wolf’s fur began to smoke. Wailing, the wolf rolled about on the grass until its fur stopped smoking.
The monster opened its mouth again, but the wolf leaped forward and ripped at the monster’s eyes with sharp claws.
The mimicker assumed another shape before it could be damaged further. Covered with a thick pelt of coarse fur, the new beast stood eight-feet tall or more. Long, muscular arms hung nearly to its knees. Its head looked as if someone had jammed a pebbly-skinned melon onto its neck and gouged out the eyes and a mouth using only their fingers.
Although the mimicker had changed forms, the damage from the wolf still carried over. Its right leg was bleeding quite badly and one of its eyes was closed in a small, dark slit.
Dropping onto all fours, the beast leapt up the side of the hill and wrapped its long arms around the log where Marcus and Kyja had sat keeping guard. Kyja was sure the log must weigh twice as much as the creature, and yet it lifted it into the air effortlessly.
Growling deep in its throat, the wolf crouched low and approached the mimicker with great care. The beast swung the log. Again the wolf leapt, narrowly avoiding the blow. But as it landed, its left rear leg gave out.
At once the hairy creature was upon it. Kyja watched, terrified, as the mimicker knocked the wolf to the ground. With a howl, the wolf rolled back to its feet. The creature swung the log again, hitting the wolf in the side of its ribs with a terrible crunch and sending it sprawling toward the fire.
“No!” Kyja shouted.
The mimicker bounded down the hill toward the wolf and raised the log above its head for a killing blow.
With a roar of rage, the wolf sprang away from the crashing log. A silver blur in the darkness, it darted between the creature’s legs and snapped at its ankle. Screaming, the creature spun around, trying to reach its attacker. But the wolf slipped behind it. Another flash of teeth, and the beast dropped its log as its leg collapsed.
The wolf attacked. The mimicker began to change so rapidly it was impossible to keep up. Big creatures and small. Some with wings. Some with horns. One that seemed to be nothing but smoke.
But each time it changed, the wolf was on top of it, biting, snarling, and scratching. Furiously darting in and out, the wolf seemed to be everywhere—in front of the mimicker, behind it, ripping at its head and body.
At last, badly injured and barely able to see, the mimicker returned to its original shape. The beast raised its claws to attack, but the wolf was too quick. Plunging between the creature’s deadly pincers, the wolf launched itself into the air, and clamped its sharp fangs on the unprotected flesh directly beneath the mimicker’s jaw.
As the mimicker collapsed to the ground, the wolf shook its furry head, staring at the fallen beast with deadly eyes. Sitting back on its haunches, it raised its grizzled muzzle to the three moons and howled.
Maste
r Therapass had arrived.
Chapter 21
The Blame Game
I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes,” Master Therapass said, studying Marcus as though half convinced he were some kind of illusion.
Marcus felt himself blush under Master Therapass’s scrutiny.
The old man looked from Marcus to Kyja and back again, shaking his head. “The two of you. Here. Together.”
“How about paying some attention to me?” Riph Raph piped up from where he lay on the wizard’s lap.
Marcus watched closely as Master Therapass ran his gnarled fingers over Riph Raph’s injured wing.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that skyte fire is more appropriately used for lighting tinder than attacking beasts one hundred times your size?” the wizard asked as he probed and prodded.
“Hmphh,” Riph Raph grunted. “I would’ve had that thing if it hadn’t broken my wing. A lucky hit.”
“Indeed.” Master Therapass nodded, his beard waggling to and fro. “I have seldom seen man or beast acquit himself more bravely than you did with that mimicker. I believe you would have subdued the creature even if I hadn’t arrived when I did.”
The wizard took an intricately-carved silver ball from the pocket of his robe and rolled it gently over Riph Raph’s wing, mumbling words Marcus couldn’t understand. A moment later, the skyte’s wing briefly glowed red.
“Better?” Master Therapass asked, returning the ball to his robe.
Riph Raph hesitantly extended his wing, then gave it a more confident flap. “Wahoo!” he cried, launching himself into the air. “It’s good as new. Better than new!”
Marcus watched with wide-eyed wonder as the skyte soared up into the sky, flying like its wing had never been damaged. Glancing down at his bent arm, he started to speak, then pressed his lips together and looked away.
Master Therapass rubbed his beard and studied Marcus with a perceptive—and somehow sad—look in his eyes. “I believe I know what you wish to ask,” he said, his voice soft. “And I fear the answer is not what you might hope for. But please ask anyway, as I am perhaps the only one capable of providing you with the answer. I am certainly culpable for my actions.”
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