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

by C. Deanna Verhoff

  “Then confess.”

  Hopes for magic dashed once again, with the threat of extraction hanging over her head, a full confession was on the tip of her tongue, but all thoughts were unexpectedly crowded out by the image of the Elboni floating over a field of daisies. The wonderful globe seemed as near and as real as life itself. A vision of a girl—herself actually—danced around the Elboni along with two misty-faced companions. A strange longing set her heart on fire. Wish, Wish, Wish, the Glory in the vision repeated. The real Glory reached out to touch the gorgeous rock one more time, but the image vanished like a desert mirage.

  “She seems dazed,” Needle said with concern, steadying her with a sturdy arm around the waist.

  “What do ye want, Rock Collector?” Lady Gost demanded to know, snapping Glory back to the cathedral.

  Glory tapped her mouth with an index finger desperate to figure out what it was she truly wanted. Then it hit—the vision was a message from the Elboni! Now, she knew the last condition of the binding ritual and it had been under nose all along! All the talk of magical requests, and the way they were forbidden from speaking wish out loud, how could she have missed something so obvious? She had messed up the original list. Her fingers itched to amend it, but she had to content herself with a mental note instead:

  8. must say the word WISH when asking for very specific something.

  How simple! The eighth condition! For sure, this time!

  "Your request, please." Lady Gost grew impatient.

  In an instant, Glory knew exactly what to ask for: "I want to be buried with my mother!"

  Quiet followed for a whole minute.

  "An honorable request," Lady Gost finally said. "After your essence departs, your body will be returned to Tullah. But know that there may not be much left of ye to bury after the extractors are through."

  "Even if only a speck of me remains, bury it with my mother.”

  "We will honor your request, but first tell us where to find your mother’s remains.”

  “She’s not easy to find,” Glory said in all honesty. “There’s no marker, no map, and I don’t know how to explain.”

  "Star riders, let the Tullahn show ye the place, then promptly bring her back for the procedure. Wybb needs its magic back and the Weinling is hungry."

  “Uh,” Glory raised a finger. “What about my friend?”

  Lady Gost addressed the star riders. “Two Tullahns will go home, but return with just the one.”

  “In obedience we obey.” They bowed and departed, taking Glory with them.

  Chapter 28

  After a quick and private reunion with Clash out in the vestibule, all their belongings were returned to them. Shortly thereafter, the star riders and their two captives burrowed through time and space via the Paraplume. Clash felt sick to his stomach upon landing in the cavern in Queen’s Mesa, but he was so excited about the cosmic ride that he couldn’t stop grinning. The transition from the warm cathedral to the cool cave made Glory dig her hands deep into pockets. Clash was burdened with the slingboard, but he seemed to be managing just fine.

  Needle raised the Nightburner. They were near the spot where the Elboni used to sit, in the very place where the Hoogula had first accosted her. Fear streaked down her spine at the thought of Budd lurking in the shadows.

  “Oops,” White Feather said to the other Wybbils. “I meant to bring us outside the cavern, but as ye know, the magic be dimming.”

  “Whoa,” Clash said. Upon seeing the starry cavern with the smooth polished floor and stalagmite forest, he took out his Sliver and began videoing the area from wall to wall. “What planet is this?”

  “Tullah,” Glory said. “We’re in Queen’s Mesa.”

  “I’ve never seen this cavern before—are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure—remember, I told you all about it back in the Bamboozle?”

  “Your description didn’t do it justice.”

  Their attention went to a large white figure lurking behind a lacy wall of stalactites. A low growl reverberated through the cavern. Glory had to squeeze her bladder muscles to avoid an accident.

  “Budd has been extra foul since losing the Elboni,” said Needle, addressing everyone. “Tread with care.”

  The Hoogula’s eyes burned redder than ever as if the very sight of her fueled his rage. Glory whimpered and pressed her back against the wall. Clash froze on the spot, eyes almost as huge as the monster dog’s.

  “There, there, Budd,” Needle said cooly, but even the star riders hesitated at the sight of him. Bone circled around the room, goading him away from the Tullahns by shaking the Thunderbone.

  The Hoogula’s bared teeth looked like lethal sabers. His growls rumbled the cavern. All the hate in his eyes seemed reserved for Glory alone. Clash’s fingernails dug into Glory’s wrist. “The Hoo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo,” Clash said, sounding like an owl.

  “Hoogula,” Glory finished for him, feeling a bit miffed. He had been the first person she told about the cavern and the Hoogula. He’d also been the first to totally dismiss her. She’d been dealing with this new reality all alone for far too long. It was about time for someone else to squirm under the weight of such knowledge. “I told you he was for real.”

  Salvia dripped from Budd’s mouth. His view shifted from Glory to Clash. He was licking his muzzle as if Clash looked like a pork chop.

  “Whah!” Clash cried out.

  “Quit with the screaming!” Bone yelled. “Fear makes Budd more powerful.” He removed the Thunderbone from his hatband.

  "Hurry,” White Feather urged. “Budd’s hatred for the Rock Collector makes him extra dangerous.”

  Bone held onto his rib bone then flicked his wrist as if tossing a discus.

  "Battan!" he cried out. A second bone, an impossibly bigger one, flew out the Thunderbone. Budd leapt upon it, chomping it down in one bite. He shook the cavern with a howl, obviously not satisfied with his snack.

  “Battan!” Bone repeated the gesture. A statue of Glory’s likeness made entirely of bone sailed across the cavern. Budd took it into his massive jaws, shaking vigorously until snapping it in half. The sound echoed eerily through the cavern.

  Needle took the lead position out of the Hoogula’s lair, his Nightburner lighting the way. White Feather pushed Clash and Glory along, making a quick exit. Bone exploded a spear from out of the Thunderbone, jabbing it toward Budd as he was the last to back out of the cavern. He left another large bone as a parting gift. The Hoogula shook it in his mouth with a growl the size of a tsunami. Lying down, he seemed orally satisfied for the moment.

  Glory and Clash traveled with the star riders through the winding tunnels of Queen’s Mesa at a fast pace. She knew this part of the trail well. Tullah’s familiar ground felt good beneath her feet. She had half the mind to kiss it.

  “Where are we going?” Clash whispered out of earshot of the others. “Are you finally giving them the Elboni?”

  “Nope.”

  “Don’t you get it? If you don’t give them their stone now this is your friggin’ death march.”

  “I am this close to getting my wish.” She held her thumb and index finger half-an-inch apart. “But I’m going to need your help.”

  “I’m not going to help you die.”

  “I’ll try with or without you.”

  Clash let out a big reluctant sigh. “What do you need me to do?”

  “No talking,” Bone said from behind.

  “Why not?” Clash asked.

  “The beast has a short attention span. I think he’s forgotten about us for now, but if he hears talking that might set him off again.”

  Glory immediately zipped her lip and Clash didn’t say another word the rest of the journey. When they were at the top of the Queen’s Mesa, a blast of cold, dry air hit them. Not a moon or star to be seen under an overcast sky. They half walked, half skidded down the steep slope.

  “Ow!” Glory cried out, tripping and falling just before they reached the bottom. When s
he stood, she gave a painful cry. “My ankle—I twisted it or something.”

  “Crimeny,” said Bone.

  “These mamsey pamsey Tullahns break so easily,” White Feather said. “Can you walk on it?”

  She put a little weight on it and winced. “Ow, it hurts, but I don’t think it’s broken. Maybe if I just rest it a few minutes.”

  “Grrrr,” said Bone between clenched teeth. “Just a few.”

  Dried leaves and wilted grass dotted the forest floor, but bare dirt and gnarled roots were just as plentiful.

  “Smells like snow in the air,” Needle commented.

  The five of them parked their behinds under the trees lining a clearing. Glory fumbled through her pajama pockets. She had Clash’s blue Sliver. He still had Matthew’s. Powering them on was part of the plan hatching in her head. She slid it out and opened the screen, showing it to the star riders.

  “Hey, any of you guys want to learn how to play Junkyard Derby?”

  “Junkyard Derby?”

  “It’s a game where you crash cars into your opponents’ cars until they fall apart. The last car still running wins.” She held the screen under the nearest Wybbil’s nose—Bone. “See. It’s really fun.”

  She muted the volume.

  He watched her play a couple of minutes and started to yawn.

  “Shameful how Tullahns waste the little time they have on frivolous games.”

  “Before ye stone napped the Elboni,” Needle said. “We hadn’t been called to Tullah for over five hundred years. Society still relied on fire for light, and animals for transportation. Ye have progressed faster than expected, but your planet still has a long way to go. Advanced technology in the hands of moral infants be a dangerous thing.”

  “How be your ankle?”

  She stood, let out a yelp, and fell down.

  “I’ll carry ye,” Bone said impatiently.

  “No way,” she shook her head. “At least let me spend my last moments with some dignity.” She twirled her ankle slowly. “Once it stops throbbing, I’ll be able to walk on it. Just a few more minutes.”

  She resumed with Junkyard Derby. “Either one of you want to give it a try?” she held it up for Needle and White Feather. Both declined. “How about you Clash—a game of Junk Yard Derby before I die?”

  Clash’s palms shot to his ears. “Don’t talk like that—you’re freaking me out.”

  “Please, one last game?”

  “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just too sad.”

  “I so NEED you to do this for me.” C’mon Clash, take the hint. His head titled to the side. An inquisitive raise of the eyebrows followed. “It will help take my mind off of what’s coming,” Glory said. “Please, star guys, tell him it’s okay. It’s the least you can do before you murder me.”

  She looked to White Feather, who looked at Needle, who looked at Bone, who grumbled, “I guess it can’t hurt anything.”

  Bone watched the screen as Clash linked the two Sliver’s together. Junkyard Derby’s title screen rolled across the display. Glory picked her vehicle of choice—a purple pickup truck with shark teeth painted on the side of the hood, while Clash picked a black racecar with fire painted on the side. The checkered race flag dropped and the game began.

  “A few more minutes, then we go,” White Feather said. The three Wybbils began to talk amongst themselves, while the friends played their game, and as soon as Glory thought it was safe, she employed the Sliver’s chat feature:

  Mr. Gundisalv, you have 119 messages.

  Whoa, that was a lot of messages. Slivers could communicate with other Slivers within a five mile radius. Now that they were on their own world, they had all come in at once. Most of them were from Olivia Wingfield and Daniel Cloude. Daniel was Matthew’s younger brother. Hmmm, why would Olivia and Matthew’s brother try to contact Clash? She opened the first one from Olivia.

  Clash or Glory—Everybody’s looking 4 u. We can’t figure out how to explain where u are, so we haven’t said anything. Let me know as soon as ur back.~Olivia

  That’s not the information Glory was after. She went through a few more messages until she found what she wanted in a message from Daniel Cloude’s Sliver.

  clash/glory, im so confused about what happened. i thought Glory was on Wybb but people say she was at at home the night of the shooting. tell glory I’m sorry about her dad. i’m praying he’ll pull through. call me asap. —matt

  Aha. Matt must have borrowed his brother’s Sliver to deliver the message. Considering the fact Clash had Matthew’s Sliver, now it made total sense.

  The Shooting—she stared at the words. The blue Sliver quivered in her hands. Dad was alive, but he would go to jail. The Alley family was as good as split. What was a girl to do? Strategize—that’s what. Time for a live chat. She instructed the Sliver to search the area for another communication device. It found just the one she was looking for:

  Hello Besnick Gundisalv, Matthew Cloude is in range. Would you like me to ask if if he’s available for a chat?

  She pressed the YES. The message came back.

  Matthew Cloude accepted your invitation to chat.

  As far as the Sliver was concerned, Clash was Matthew, and she was Besnick Gundisalv—Clash. However, none of that was important. All that mattered was the strategy. And it was unfolding as planned. The phony twisted ankle had been a set-up for this very important private chat. Not wasting any time, she got down to business.

  Clash, I need u 2 do something 4 me.

  Scared 4 u. Glo, plz just give them the stone.

  Don’t want to lose my BF. If I give up the stone, we’ll lose each other for sure.

  ???

  Crenshaw is back.

  Oh, #%@!

  Glory prayed Clash wouldn’t clog up the conversation with questions and would simply follow instructions. She glanced at the Wybbils conversing amongst themselves, making sure they didn’t catch on. The star riders certainly weren’t stupid, but their arrogance would be their undoing. They dismissed Tullahn technology as junk, thinking her species primitive, and that kind of attitude weakened their game plan. They were ignorant of the Sliver’s wide range of capabilities. They thought it was only for games, but their ignorance could quickly go away, so this chat had to be quick.

  I need u to build a big circle around my mom’s grave.

  ???

  Form a perimeter shaped like circle over my mom’s grave.

  What 4? And with what?

  Will explain later. Has to be something that had life or has life now. Understand?

  No.

  Something organic, I guess.

  Plant, animal, what?

  Not sure.

  Not helpful, Glo. Size?

  Big enough to contain a wybbil, but must be unnoticed.

  More data, plz.

  No time. Need circle done b4 I get to mom’s grave.

  Why?

  That’s where they’re taking me.

  Then what?

  Back 2 Wybb 4 the extraction.

  NO!!!!!!!!!!!

  Build the circle STAT and all will B ok.

  U can’t know that.

  I have to try.

  ((((((sigh))))))

  R U in?

  How do I get away from them to build your O?

  I’ll try to stall them. Have it in place before we arrive.

  Glo, I can’t believe we’re doing to do this.

  Delete this chat. Be careful. PIC.

  FTTE.

  PIC stood for Partners In Crime, FTTE for Friends ‘Til The End, their customary good-bye. Glory deleted the chat and hoped that Clash would do the same. She promptly flipped back to JunkYard Derby. Just in time too, because Bone decided to lean in to check out the screen.

  “Crimeny,” he exclaimed. “These games have communication capabilities.”

  “Which means they might have contacted Tullahn authorities,” Bone stood in alarm. Snatching away the nearest Sliver, which happened to the re
d one Clash was holding.

  White Feather took it from Bone. He madly pressed buttons and brought up different menus. “If we had more time I could decipher the workings of this gadget, but there be a surprising amount of data here.”

  “All we need to know,” Bone said. “Be whether or not they contacted the Tullahn authorites?”

  Needle stood, nervously glancing about the forest. “These weapons here be crude, but effective.” He held up the Nightburner, turning up its glow. “Perhaps we should arm ourselves?”

  White Feather touched the Paraplume to the Sliver, and then touched its wispy edges to his head. His face took on a trance-like expression. Then he appeared to return to the present. “Most of the gadget’s storage be filled with silly games, but a lot be devoted to books and moving pictures. A section labeled homework contains basic science data, mathematics, and Tullahn history. There’s also a section labeled, Private Thoughts, seems the owner of this gadget be courting the intolerable Mandy, whom we’ve already met, yet he fantasizes about kissing another girl.”

  “Who’s the other girl?” Clash wanted to know.

  “He doesn’t give a name, but he’s written several poems in her honor. Here’s one called, Ode to the Brown Eyed Girl With No Shoes. Oh, wait, there’s a picture of her.” He studied Glory a moment. “Well, what do ye know? Young Matthew Cloude has romantic feelings about the Rock Collector.”

  “May the Elboni help him,” Bone said, glancing up at the sky.