Compass of Dreams

by Pierdomenico Baccalario

“I’m not joking,” I said. “Horror is how I’d describe this place. Horror, fear, that kind of thing.”

  I examined the front of the statue for clues. Eventually, I saw something I’d previously missed: there was a signature painted on the statue’s base. I figured I’d find Barragh McBlack’s name, but instead it read: Somerled McBlack.

  I turned to Aiby, who was still on the top rung staring at the lock. “Hey, Aiby.”

  “What?”

  “Somerled. Try the word ‘Somerled’ with that lock.”

  Aiby shrugged, then began to fiddle with the mechanism.

  Tick, tack, TOCK!

  Aiby beamed at me. “Finley, it worked!”

  I winked and followed my friend up the ladder.

  The top floor of the tower had become a refuge for birds. The floor, half-covered by a large Oriental carpet, was blanketed in bird poop. I glanced up to see one of the skylights had broken. Aiby and I rifled through the many objects abandoned there. After examining several chests and drawers, we realized the compass wasn’t there.

  “Maybe the birds took it,” I said. “Or maybe your system of recording the locations of magical objects isn’t as accurate as you think.”

  Aiby didn’t respond. She just kept tossing boxes aside and opening trunks. Looking out the west-facing skylight, I saw no trace of Doug or Cromwell. I hoped that nothing bad had happened to my brother.

  Through another skylight, I saw the pale sun of the early afternoon cast the barn’s shadow on the lawn below. My eyes went wide. “Come here for a minute, Aiby,” I whispered.

  My friend joined me. “Did you find it?”

  I pointed to the shadow below us. On top of the tower’s shadow was the shape of a weather vane.

  I grinned at Aiby. “Maybe the McBlack family just used the Sherwood Compass as a normal weather vane.”

  Aiby returned my grin. “Let’s go find out,” she said.

  I’ve climbed my own roof many times, so I figured climbing the McBlack’s barn roof wouldn’t be much different. Boy was I wrong. Instead of just climbing out my bedroom window, I had to crawl through a broken skylight covered in bird poop and pull myself up onto a narrow ledge.

  You’re probably saying I’m crazy, but if you were the defender of the Enchanted Emporium, and you were with a girl like Aiby Lily, then I think you’d have done the same thing I did. I mean, I could’ve made up a dozen excuses or alternatives, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I just couldn’t say no to her.

  So there I was, on the roof of the barn, with my torn shirt and scratched hands. Normally I would’ve been scared stiff by the height, but it didn’t compare much to my earlier adventure that week with Aiby’s father on that ridiculous wall.

  I crawled across the roof on my stomach, doing my best to ignore the blustery wind. Crows buzzed overhead and cawed noisily, apparently annoyed by my invasion of their territory.

  The tin roof was scorchingly hot. It felt like my butt was resting on my dad’s tractor’s engine at the end of a long day of farming. After a few minutes of scooting along like a gecko across hot sand, I spotted the weather vane. It was little more than a pole with a tin-plated dragon on the top.

  I did my best to push down my fear of falling and crawled to the top. Easing off my butt, I stood and grabbed the base of the vane. I pulled it, but it didn’t come free.

  I yanked the weather vane a second time, then a third, but it wouldn’t budge. I was getting frustrated, and the familiar soft voice in the back of my head advised me to give up and get down from the roof. Instead, I put all my weight behind one final pull.

  The base cracked and it came free — and I dropped the weather vane! With a dive a gymnast would be jealous of, I grabbed it just before it tumbled off the edge of the roof. As I grabbed it, the tip of the weather vane sliced my finger.

  “Ouch!” I cried. For some reason, it burned like fire. I checked the cut. It was small, probably no larger than a paper cut, which relieved me a bit.

  That was a close one, I thought. I lay on my back and closed my eyes. I could hear the magic flute’s subtle, off-key notes in the distance.

  Good job, Finley, I told myself. Now it’s time to get off this stupid roof. I took in a deep breath and opened my eyes. Lazy clouds hovered above me. I exhaled, then rolled over onto my stomach.

  That’s when I saw her. I blinked hard to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Twenty yards away, in one of the big windows of Scary Villa, I saw a girl. She was definitely watching me. Judging by the curious look on her face, she must have observed my crazy climb and my theft of the weather vane. She was pale, with big eyes and a tiny mouth. She looked to be about my age, or maybe a year or two older. I recognized the same sad look in her that I’d seen in the statue in the garage.

  Our eyes were locked. Neither of us moved or spoke, like two funny birds on the roofs of their respective homes.

  Then, for some reason, I waved at her. “Hello, Somerled,” I called out. I pointed to my chest and added, “I’m Finley — with an ‘F.’”

  For a few seconds, Somerled did nothing. She just stood with her face pressed against the window, making pancakes of her pale cheeks as they squished against the glass.

  I raised the weather vane up and then pointed at my wrist where a watch would be. I was trying to say, I need this for a little while, but I will bring it back to you when I’m done.

  Amazingly, she seemed to understand. She smiled and nodded. I gave her a thumbs-up until Somerled raised hers as well. She seemed to be saying, Go ahead and take it, Finley McPhee. Just make sure to bring it back.

  Then she stepped away from the window, turned around, and quickly ran out of sight.

  A few moments later, I scurried off the barn’s roof with the clatter of a thousand marching drums. Thankfully, Aiby grabbed my legs and dragged me in through the skylight. She asked me if I was injured, and I told her that I was fine since I’d already forgotten about the cut on my finger.

  “I’ve seen Somerled,” I said.

  “And who is Somerled?” she asked.

  “Barragh McBlack’s daughter, I think. And she saw me.”

  Aiby brushed my jeans off. “Then we’d better get out of here,” she said.

  “She wasn’t angry,” I said. “She even smiled at me.”

  “Either way, we have to leave.”

  I nodded. We climbed down the ladder and reached the door. I glanced back at the statue of the little girl with the tentacles. “I think those statues were made by Somerled,” I said.

  Aiby frowned. “Then I don’t want to meet her,” she said.

  We ran from the barn back to the wall where Aiby had drawn the magical door. Once there, she knocked on the wall, and the door opened. When Doug saw us, we watched as he led Cromwell back through the door like some mythical beast. Once they were through, Doug jumped back through to our side and Aiby quickly closed the magic door behind him.

  “It’s about time!” Doug cried, removing the flute from his lips.

  Aiby showed him the weather vane. “Mission accomplished,” she said.

  “And now that you have it, what’s your plan?” Doug asked.

  Aiby explained our plan to Doug as we walked toward the path that led down to the bay. She and Doug led the way while I brought up the rear.

  “Doug, did you know that Barragh McBlack has a daughter?” I asked him.

  “No,” he answered. “Is she pretty?”

  I had to think about that for a moment. I recalled the creepy statues that she’d made, and felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Sure, she was beautiful . . . but in a way, so are ghosts.

  In a soft voice, I told my brother, “No. I would have to say no.”

  Doug chuckled. “That’s why I haven’t heard of her,” he said.

  Typical Doug, I thought. At that moment, I decided something: no matter w
hat happened tomorrow, the most important thing I’d do would be returning the weather vane to Somerled.

  And maybe talk to her a little.

  We reached the dock and jumped into the boat. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I hardly noticed a sparkle just below the water’s surface. I leaned over the edge of the boat and saw one of Somerled’s statues staring back at me with childlike, gemstone eyes.

  Later, after returning from Scary Villa, I learned that some strange events had transpired while we were gone. Apparently, two more sheep had disappeared, so Professor Everett gave his hunting rifle to the night patrol. Apparently it was a special rifle that used silver bullets, which was weird for a variety of reasons. Mostly I just wondered why Professor Everett owned a gun that was designed to kill werewolves.

  At a town meeting, my father shared new evidence he’d found of this cattle thief: an empty bottle of whiskey.

  “It is one of the best whiskeys, Camas,” Mr. McStay said. As the owner of the McStay Inn, he was an expert on buying (and drinking) whiskey. Mrs. Greenlock, the owner of the local pub, nodded in agreement.

  Dad explained that he’d found it the previous night in front of the door to his house — the same time he’d called out to me, preventing me from following the Green Man into the woods. “Does anything about this bottle strike any of you as strange?” he asked the group.

  “Well, it’s a little odd that a sheep thief would drink expensive Scottish whiskey,” someone answered.

  “I only had three bottles of it,” said Mrs. Greenlock. “Two of them were purchased by a customer, but I still have the third one.”

  “Who bought the two bottles?” Jules asked from inside his red van.

  “A man I’d never seen before,” she said.

  “Do you mean Locan Lily?” Barragh suggested.

  “No, not him,” Ms. Greenlock said. “A young man. He was a tourist. He said he was renting a cottage on the coast and liked to go for morning jogs. Did any of you see someone jogging on the beaches recently?”

  The men shrugged and shook their heads.

  “That’s a shame,” my father said. “It could be an important link.”

  And it was. None of us could have imagined that the young man who had arrived in Applecross to go jogging on the beaches during the day was also wandering the forests at night, wrapped in a Cloak of Mirrors. At that point in time, there was no way to know that he was studying the area, waiting for the perfect time to strike. His name was Semueld — and if he had left an empty whiskey bottle in front of our door, he had a good reason for doing so.

  The crowd began to disperse and head home. “Man, I’m completely exhausted,” I said. While we’d had a long day of walking, I was surprised at how tired I was.

  “Quit complaining, Viper,” Doug said, using my most hated nickname. “I’m fine, and I’m the one carried the boat to the dock.”

  Before I could respond, he whispered something to Aiby, then walked away.

  “What did he say?” I asked after he’d left.

  “He said, ‘Maybe I’ll see you later in the country,’” she said.

  * * *

  A little while later, Aiby headed up the Emporium’s steps with the compass in hand. I slowly trudged behind her, my legs feeling like concrete blocks.

  As we entered the shop, Aiby greeted her father and showed him the compass.

  Mr. Lily looked concerned. “If that thing works, then we’ll know for sure that this isn’t just a case of some weirdo wandering around in the woods at night,” he said.

  Aiby nodded grimly.

  A few minutes later, we both stood outside the shop again. “So, let’s begin the hunt!” she said.

  Aiby held a couple of books in her hands, on top of which was a Mythic Thermometer. Aiby said it analyzed the magical potential of certain objects.

  She held the device over our Sherwood Compass and the small rod on the Mythic Thermometer shot up to level 13 of 21.

  “Awesome!” Aiby cried out in relief. “It works!”

  I suddenly realized that I had risked my life to steal a magical object that might not have even worked. But when I saw that determined sparkle in Aiby’s eyes, I couldn’t help but think that I’d made the right choice.

  “Isn’t it exciting?” Aiby asked. “I mean, we just recovered the weather vane that Robin Hood used to earn the friendship of the men of Sherwood Forest!”

  I nodded. Aiby took my hand and walked back to my bike with me. I hopped on, then she sat on the handlebars while I pedaled. As we headed back to Applecross, she explained the entire plan to me while Patches trotted happily behind us.

  From time to time, while explaining the plan, Aiby let go of the handlebars to gesture as she always did, which meant I had to adjust quickly so she wouldn’t fall off.

  “Sorry!” she told me each time.

  “No problem,” I answered each time.

  Between Aiby’s musical voice, the scent of grass coming from Balanch Ba, the gentle sound of waves, and Aiby’s hair tickling my face, I’d never been happier. As we passed old lady Cumai’s mill, I noticed that all the lights were on, just as Barragh McBlack had said.

  A few minutes later, we arrived at Professor Everett’s gift shop. As usual, he was sitting outside and shuffling the strange deck of grimy cards he used to play solitaire all day long.

  Aiby asked him if he had a map of the peninsula’s paths, and the two of them entered the store to get one. When they returned, the Professor sat down and continued to play with his cards. “Are you done testing those beaches?” he asked me.

  “Almost, Professor,” I lied. To disguise my lie, I casually crushed a beetle under my shoe.

  We listened as the church bells rang five times, then we left. A couple of minutes later, we reached Meb’s dress shop.

  “Is anyone here?” Aiby asked, pushing open the door.

  “Hey you two!” Meb said.

  Aiby quickly explained to Meb what our plan was. The young dressmaker grabbed the keys to her tiny car, turned the sign on the shop’s door from OPEN to CLOSED, and followed us out.

  A moment later, we were off. As we passed the mill, Meb said, “Someone should go turn those lights off.” But she didn’t stop.

  As always, I was sitting in the back with Patches and watching the scenery fly by. Aiby continually checked her map. “Go that way,” she’d say, pointing.

  Meb soon left the coastal road and turned onto the dangerous single-lane road. We headed past the heart of the forest of Applecross toward the dam.

  As Meb took the hairpin turns with ease, she mentioned what her friends had been telling her about the sheep thief. I saw her face through the rearview mirror, and it looked like she hadn’t slept much lately.

  “The ladies of Applecross, especially the older ones, all love their gossip,” Meb said. “After that crazy Dutch visitor from a few weeks ago, every single patron of the McStay Inn has been thoroughly speculated about. Apparently, Aiby, your father is a topic of interest. The ladies say he wanders the land at night, traveling from one side of the countryside to the other.”

  “That’s right,” said Aiby. “But he’s just searching for fallen trees to fix the steps that lead down to the sea from our shop.”

  “That’s what I told them,” Meb said. “But they refuse to stop gossiping. I sort of understand the concern, since so many strange things have happened since your family arrived in Applecross.”

  “Hmph,” Aiby said without taking her eyes off the map.

  “They also love to speculate where Mrs. Lily is, or why Aiby isn’t enrolled in school,” Meb continued. “I was hoping you could answer those questions for me so I could pass the information on to them so they would, you know . . . leave it be.”

  “I’ve already graduated from school,” Aiby said quietly. Then, crinkling the map far more than necessary
, she completely unfolded it so it took up most of the front of the car.

  We stopped halfway up the hill and exited the car with the Sherwood Compass and the sandwiches we’d brought along for lunch. I wasn’t all that hungry, so I split mine with Patches.

  “Let’s get started,” Aiby said. She passed me the weather vane, then blindfolded me. With my eyes covered, she wrapped my hand around the base of the weather vane and whispered the magical formula in my ear:

  I lifted the blindfold enough to look at Aiby. “That’s all I have to say?” I asked.

  “Yes, but it takes a man to use this compass,” she said. Coming from her mouth, that simple phrase filled me with pride.

  I positioned myself at the edge of the road with my back facing Meb’s car. Slowly, I pronounced the secret phrase. Immediately I felt the weather vane rotate as the dragon on top pointed in a new direction. That strange voice inside my head whispered a warning, Remember what happened last time you messed with a monster?

  I felt the dragon lift upward five times, then stop. Aiby placed her hand on my shoulder. “Good work — we found something. The dragon reared up five times!”

  “And that means . . . ?”

  “We move forward five hundred yards in the direction it pointed,” she said. “And then we do it over again.”

  * * *

  Soon the sun began to set, turning the sea a golden hue. The island mountains in the distance cast shadows like castles against the curtain of coming night. We soon found ourselves lost in the thick forest, with Sherwood’s Compass our only source of direction in the scant light. Each time the weather vane’s dragon reared up, we followed where it pointed.

  As we made our way through the trees, the smell of the wilderness grew stronger. I began to feel uneasy in the near total silence. The tree branches seemed to curve like dead fingers. The grass grew denser and more resistant to our footsteps. Every single stone was sharp and slippery.

  The compass twisted in my hands as I repeated the incantation that tuned it to the magic that still remained in the world. But with each incantation, I felt weaker, as if pronouncing the string of words cost me some sort of spiritual energy.