Glory Alley and the Star Riders (The Glory Alley Series)

by C. Deanna Verhoff

  “Tullahn,” Bone said. That didn’t seem to register with the pilot, so Bone elaborated. “From the indigo side of the Elboni.”

  The pilot suddenly looked more interested, eyes traveling her body up and down, but not in a good way, more like disapproval.

  “He’s so big, but acts like a child.”

  “Don’t they make you take an eye test in aviator school?” Glory retorted, taking great offense at his mistake. “I’m a girl.” She made a point of flipping her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Like there’s any question.”

  “Don’t provoke the pilot, Rock Collector,” White Father said. “It’s just that you are quite large compared to female Wybbils. And wearing trousers. So, please, just take a seat and hold your tongue.”

  “He called me a he,” Glory said folding arms over her chest in indignation. “And he said I was fat.”

  “I didn’t say you were fat!” The pilot shot back. Needle him a hard stare that said shut-up.

  “The pilot shouldn’t have assumed you were male,” Needle said. “But he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “Aye,” replied the pilot. “Ye be the first Tullahn I have met, so please accept my apologies.”

  “Well, I suppose I can understand that, because I think...” Wybbils are the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen, she wanted to say, but didn’t. “Er, we have a lot to learn about each other. Apology accepted.”

  The pilot touched his fingers to his forehead in something that looked like a salute. Needle guided her to take the seat behind him. White Feather squeezed in directly behind the pilot, while Bone took the spot at the rear.

  Goggles lowered, the pilot pressed his fingers to his temples and the whifferdil began to rise. The stairs folded on their own, disappearing into the side of the whifferdil. Glory looked for something, anything, to grab onto, but there were no handholds or seatbelts anywhere.

  Needle said not to fear. “Whifferdils be made of smart-fibers, sensing when they need to grab on tighter, letting loose when they don’t. And as for the pilot, he’s the best on all of Wybb. We have relied on him often over the years.”

  “Stand up,” Needle encouraged.

  “Why?”

  “I want you to see something.”

  The whifferdil was already in motion. “Too scary.” she said.

  “Do it,” he insisted. “Jump straight up into the air.”

  The ground was getting further and further away. “I don’t think so.” She shook her head.

  “You’ll feel better the rest of the trip,” the pilot joined in from the front of the craft. “Go on, give it a try.”

  She bent her knees and jumped, but her feet never left the whifferdil. In fact, she was now buried up to her ankles in spongy whifferdil. How strange!

  “The whifferdil’s smart fibers adjusts the amount of clinginess based on gravity, physics, and the amount of emotional tension it senses from each of its riders,” the pilot proudly explained.

  “Sounds scientific,” Glory said with increasing admiration.

  The pilot pulled down his goggles to give her an irritated scowl. “No need to be insulting,”

  “Didn’t mean it that way. This thing is totally cool.”

  “You can sit down now,” Needle said, pulling on the hem of her jacket.

  She did as told, feeling much safer than when they first took off. Leaning over the edge, she tried to see where the bubbles came out, but Needle pulled her up by the hood of her coat.

  “Don’t do that. Ye Tullahns be delicately made. If ye fall, ye will splat.”

  “Nothing to worry about with the smart fibers to hold onto me.”

  “Good sense be the best preventative. Even with smart fibers, accidents happen.”

  So much for feeling safe, but after a few minutes the fascination of it all outweighed thoughts of danger.

  “How’s he making this thing fly without any controls?”

  “By concentrating,” Needle said.

  “Could I learn how to fly a whifferdil, too?”

  “A Tullahn’s connection to the Elboni be weak, so flying a whifferdil would be impossible. It’s a difficult task even for Wybbils, taking years of practice, and of course, one must learn all the aviation laws and obtain the proper licensing.”

  “That’s right,” the pilot said, turning his head to glance back at them. “But learning the law be the easy part. The hardest part’s learning to meditate on the Elboni, the whifferdil, and the wind all at the same time, weaving them together in constant motion.”

  “That doesn’t sound all that hard,” Glory said. “Can I try?”

  The pilot snorted, tossed his nose into the air, and looked straight ahead again without bothering to reply. The whifferdil continued to move forward, over the sparkling purple Sea of Serenity, skimming over the top of a ship with billowing yellow sails, up through swirling white cloud vapors.

  The clean briny scent of the sea filled her nostrils. The day was warm, but it didn’t feel that way up on the whifferdil where the wind whipped without mercy. Glory hugged herself to keep warm.

  A stream of little bubbles trailed behind the whifferdil. She watched mesmerized as some of the orbs rose and others fell.

  The craft hit turbulence, tossing and turning. She felt the whifferdil grab on and pull her deeper into its fibers, but she couldn’t help to yelp, squeezing a handful of spongy material between her fingers.

  “Some seatbelts would be nice about now!”

  “Tarnation, pilot!” Bone bellowed. “Where’d ye learn to fly?”

  “Hush.” The pilot was curt. “Flying has been most difficult as of late. Using the magic feels like trying to breathe through a tiny straw, so bother me not. I need total concentration.”

  The pilot regained control and so did Glory’s stomach. The whifferdil sailed over the ocean a long while without conversation. Silence gave her precious time to think about her strategy.

  Something interesting she had learned on Wybb was that shapes and words mattered. A circle be for magic, the Wybbil’s voice echo in her mind. This data was important. It surely applied to the binding ritual, but how? In the cathedral, the Elboni was normally enclosed in a rectangle. Rectangles killed certain words that came near it. Mulling everything over for miles and miles, as the wind turned her into an ice cube; it suddenly clicked. The ritual required the Elboni to be enclosed in a circle!

  Glory wanted to explode with joy, but only allowed herself a furtive grin as she scrunched deeper into her jacket.

  “Our Rock Collector looks blue around the edges,” Needle said. “Seems I read somewheres that Tullahns be very sensitive to changes in temperature. Are ye cold?”

  “Y-y-yes,” she said between chattering teeth.

  “Pilot.” Needle held down his flapping beard with one hand. “Why don’t ye put up the whifferdil’s windbreaker?”

  “All effort be focused on flying these days,” the pilot called back. “My fellow aviators say the Elboni has been stolen and that’s why the cathedral be closed. Ye ought to be able to verify whether it’s true or no. Aye?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny such information,” Bone said.

  The whifferdil began to gyrate. The ocean was a blur of purple below them. At such speed, a girl wouldn’t survive a fall into the unforgiving sea. Glory clung to a fold of spongy material with frozen fingers.

  “I’m too young to die!” she hollered over the wind.

  “Ye folks from the cathedral are all act the same,” the pilot said, “Close-mouthed and snooty.”

  “Maybe ye should concentrate on flying,” Needle said, looking a bit green around the edges himself.

  “The cargo hold has a few blankets, some snacks, help yourself.” The pilot offered. “But be careful not to fall in.” The turbulence calmed and flying was smooth again.

  Glory hadn’t noticed the string until White Feather fished it from the back of the craft. White Feather pulled up on it, revealing a deep storage bin, which appeared
a hundred times deeper than the craft on which they flew.

  “Impossible,” Glory gasped. “It’s like a cavern in there. Can I crawl in it and get out of the wind?”

  “Not today,” White Feather said. He pulled out a brown blanket for Glory and passed out sandwiches made of dark bread, cheese and cucumbers.

  “I knew a rookie pilot who got lost in his cargo hold and was never seen again,” said the pilot.

  “You’re joking?”

  “Why would I joke about a thing like that?”

  The mention of food caused the pit in her stomach to gnaw harder. The food looked worse than a school lunch. The bread was dry and crumbly. Between the slices was something that looked like hamburger and smelled like cabbage. She preferred not to know exactly what she was eating and chewed the sinewy stuff with effort.

  Despite the cold and bad food, optimism raised its dangerous head. Another of the eight conditions had been discovered—the ritual had to be conducted within a circle. She could almost taste the magic now.

  However, the Bamboozle waited ahead. And it was sure to be most unpleasant.

  Chapter 18

  A lush green island came into view below. White sandy beaches circled the perimeter, but what caught her attention most was the white volcano-like thingy. Its base bulged out of the jungle like a round gourd. Its stem stood straight and tall. No steam or smoke rose from the stack.

  “Is that the Bamboozle?” Glory wondered.

  “Aye,” all the Wybbils replied.

  “Reminds me of a flower vase. That doesn’t look so bad.”

  The whifferdil made a soft landing on dry sand. The sun beat down hard. Once they were still, the wind flow stopped, the air became hot and and oppressive, thawing Glory to the bone. She leaned over the whifferdil’s side of and let a fistful of gritty warm sand sift through her fingers.

  “Stop that!” the pilot barked. “You’re getting dirt all over my whifferdil!”

  “Sorry.” She tried to brush away the sand.

  “Just get off.” The pilot shooed her away, while the other Wybbils stretched their limbs and groaned. “Grab an end.”

  “Not until we circle thrice, then back again.” The star riders circled the whifferdil, making Glory follow along behind them. Finally, with the pilot’s prodding, they lifted the whifferdil, shook it clean, and helped the pilot roll it into a log-shape like a sleeping bag. Baffling how the spongy material could be compacted into such a small amount of space. Perhaps magic did have a few advantages over science, but no chance she’d tell them that.

  The pilot secured the roll with a leather strap then hoisted it on his back.

  “Is it heavy?” Glory asked.

  “Light as a pillow.”

  “What if it gets wet?”

  “It’s practically water proof, but if it does soak up water it gets very heavy.” The pilot lugged it by a strap over one shoulder and fell in line behind Glory as they tramped off of the beach. “A whifferdil be different than a real sponge. It can tolerate some rain, lots actually, but it’s best not to fly in heavy downpours.”

  Bone was in the lead when they entered the dark jungle. He created a sickle from the Thunderbone, using it to cut a trail through the jungle. Screeches, hoots, and twitters sounded all around them.

  They walked for an hour through the jungle. Steam rose from the forest floor. Unseen animals shrieked and howled, while glowing eyes peered out from the dark spaces in between the trunks of trees. The Wybbils seemed unconcerned, so Glory was too, at least about the jungle. She’d already seen the Bamboozle from afar, but she still had no idea as to its purpose. Something unpleasant is all she knew…egad! She considered bolting for cover. It’d take the Wybbils hours, if not days, to find her among the thick vegetation. But then what?

  Even if she could escape, she couldn’t return to Tullah without the Paraplume. Living out the rest of her life alone on an island in Wybb was not part of her plan. No, the plan involved binding a star rider, not ditching them. And as much as she tried to shove away the question—what if the Wybbils were telling the truth about their planet dying without the Elboni? What if her refusal to give it back killed a whole planet? Maybe even a galaxy or two? She’d be like the uberest villain ever…the kind that galactic heroes crush while everybody cheers.

  The thought bothered her very much.

  But, darn it, I’m one of the good guys!

  She closed her eyes, trying to clear away any doubt that she was on the side of right. I’m doing this for my family. I’m trying to keep us together. That’s a noble thing—isn’t it?

  Again, Wybb looked just fine. The jungle teamed with the sounds of life. Lush greenery surrounded her on every side. Who were the Wybbils kidding? And even if there is some truth to what they were saying about Wybb dying—why should she care? They had already told her they didn’t care about her troubles or her family. Then she remembered how the whifferdils lost control, not just on the way here, but the flights of pilgrim outside the cathedral. That couldn’t have been a ruse for her benefit. Stop it! She told herself. Don’t even go there! Pretend this is a game of Treasure Quest. I’m a brave knight—one who’s about to move into the dragon’s lair without the dragon noticing.

  Seek, Find, Persist, Conquer…she could see the game board in her mind. She repeated the words like a mantra, Seek, Find, Persist, Conquer. Seek, Find, Persist, Conquer.

  “Yowch!”

  Insects bit her face and hands. Hundreds of biting bugs, maybe thousands, buzzed around. What she wouldn’t do for repellant right now. And a chocolate coated ice cream bar.

  “Are there mosquitoes on every planet?” she complained.

  “Just about,” Needle called from up ahead.

  The muggy air soaked her coat from the outside. Sweat soaked her pajamas from the inside. She flung her ponytail around like a fan to dry her neck, and tied her coat around her waist, but that only served to offer the mosquitoes a bigger buffet. Steam continued to rise from the soil. Unseen critters scurried, chipped and squawked in the branches above. Glory’s legs were longer than the Wybbils’ legs, but it was a chore trying to keep up with them.

  “I’m so thirsty,” she panted.

  Bone rolled his eyes. “Tullahns are such mamsy pamsies. How about somebody giving her some water?”

  The Wybbils dug through the inside of their glittery green vests and Needle produced a metal flask.

  Glory gulped the contents, which was water unlike any she had ever tasted—clean, sweet and sort of lemony. She wiped her lips on her forearm with a loud AHHH.

  They walked again. Glory turned to the Wybbil pilot behind her.

  “I’d like to fly a whifferdil some time.”

  “Ye would, would ye?” the pilot laughed a little.

  “If all you have to do is concentrate on flying, it seems like anybody could manage that.”

  “It involves a lot more than that, Tullahn,” the pilot said.

  “Such as?”

  “Like I’d tell ye.”

  “Lady Gost said you guys have to answer my questions.”

  “I heard no such decree.”

  “For once the Tullahn tells the truth,” Bone said. “So by decree, ye must tell her.”

  “I don’t understand,” he replied.

  “Neither do we,” Needle said. “The lady’s ways be a mystery.”

  “Very well then,” the pilot sighed. “In order to fly a whifferdil one must be connected to the Elboni in a very special way.”

  “Which of course, ye are not,” Bone was sure to add.

  “Flying be like meditating,” the pilot continued. “Ye must clear your mind of everything except the whifferdil, wind, and the mystical Elboni. Thinking of all three, and nothing else, be no small feat. A skilled aviator leans how to maintain this state, even amid conversation and distractions.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  The pilot stopped and dropped his bundle on the ground. “I have the good mind to let ye try.”

/>   Glory’s face lit up. “Could I?”

  “No!” the pilot said.

  Bone, Needle and White Feather chuckled.

  They walked a few minutes longer until the jungle broke into a clearing the size of the sling field at school. Aqua sky contrasted with the ground of white sand. The towering white formation she had seen from the sky stood in the middle of the open space. Its base looked like a fishbowl big enough for whale. The long neck that came out of it reminded her of a tall factory smokestack. The huge formation had neither windows nor decorations and appeared to be made of the same white sand that covered the ground. A lone red door stood at its base.

  “The Bamboozle?” Glory asked.

  “Aye,” the Wybbils replied.

  It didn’t look scary. In fact, it looked kind of pretty sparkling under the afternoon sun.

  It’s roundish, Glory noted. Circles be for magic. Uh-oh.

  “Come,” White Feather said with a wave of his hand.

  They trudged through the thick sand around the Bamboozle until stopping by the red door. White Feather turned the brass handle and pulled it open. The floor inside was covered with the same white sand. Except for a spot of light coming in from the tall stack, sunlight barely touched the interior. No vegetation inside, no cobwebs, but most importantly—no insects.

  “It’s like a desert in there.” Glory commented.

  Needle stepped inside while the rest of them hovered by the door. He went to stand at the center of the Bamboozle where he held up the silver spike—the Nightburner—and said, “Nanru.”

  The Nightburner illuminated the entire place. Now Glory saw there were three other doors equally spaced along the round walls—one green, another blue, one black. Her eyes roamed upward where the light streamed down through the long stack.

  “That must be twenty stories high,” she mused aloud. “Now what?”

  “If ye get out of the Bamboozle on your own ye pass the test,” White Feather replied. “If ye elect to end the test early, or happen to die before it’s over, you fail.”

  “Happen to die?” she croaked, “And what do I get if I happen pass?”