by Lee Bacon
A total troll stereotype.
“RAAARRRRGGH!”
Still gripping me with one arm, the shopkeeper aims his sword at Groo. Big mistake. The troll snatches the blade out of his hands and snaps it over his knee like a twig.
“Next time, I break your spine!” he growls.
The shopkeeper staggers backward. “P-Please d-don’t hurt me. I was just trying to…to help rescue Prince Frederick.”
“Liar!” Fred aims an angry glare at the man. “All you cared about was getting a reward.”
Groo grabs the man’s collar between two massive fingers. Then he casts a glance at Fred and me, as if waiting for instructions on what to do next.
“Shall I rip all his limbs off?” he asks us politely. “Or just his arms?”
The shopkeeper lets out a whimpering sob as Groo reaches for his arm. I know it’s an act, but the shopkeeper doesn’t. It’s obvious he’ll do anything to protect himself.
Which gives me an idea.
“Wait!” My voice pierces the tense silence. “Let him keep his limbs. For now. But only under one condition.”
“Wh-what is it?” the shopkeeper whimpers. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Go straight to the nearest Royal Guard outpost and tell them we escaped.”
Fred shoots me a confused glance. But there’s no time to discuss our options. I give him a look that says, Trust me. Then I turn back to the shopkeeper.
“Next I want you to tell the Royal Guard that we’re headed south,” I say.
Realization flashes across Fred’s features. He knows just as well as I do that we’re not going south. The Chasing Charm has always led us west.
“That’s right,” he says, catching on. “Tell the Royal Guard we mentioned a destination in the Southlands. Tralbard. If they want to find us, that’s where they should go.”
Because we’ll be nowhere near there.
The shopkeeper nods eagerly. “I shall tell them exactly that and nothing more.”
“Good,” I reply. “Because we know where you work. And if you don’t keep your word, we’ll send our troll friend to have a little talk with you.”
Groo leans in close, snarling in the shopkeeper’s face. “And next time I won’t be so pleasant.”
The second he’s released, the shopkeeper turns and staggers away.
I turn a thankful gaze in Groo’s direction. “You saved us!”
Groo shows off a toothy grin. “Happy to help!”
“But what’re you doing all the way out here?” Fred asks. “We’re nowhere near your cave.”
“Yeah…about that.” Groo scratches behind his ear, suddenly awkward. “Here’s the thing. Your visit reminded me how nice it is to be around others—especially when they’re not trying to kill you. Once you left, I was all alone again. I mean, sure, I had my chickens. But they’re not much for conversation. So I set out to find you. I figured maybe—y’know, if you’d be interested—well…”
“Let me guess.” The hint of a smile forms on Fred’s face. “You were hoping you could join our quest?”
“Because if so, that would be awesome!” I add.
Xyler nods enthusiastically. “A troll would be a terrific addition to our team.”
“Really? Seriously?” Groo’s excited glance bounces around our group. “Thank you so much, you guys!”
“You just saved our butts,” I point out. “We should be thanking you.”
After camping for the night, our party (which now includes one very big new member) sets out bright and early the next morning. Following the flying owl necklace, we soon emerge from the forest and reach a stone-paved road. As we approach, I notice a crooked post at the edge of the path. A sign has been nailed to the wood, and it’s flapping in the wind.
Groo scratches his head. “Who’s the Elektro-Magician?”
I stare at the sign as the ground drops out from under me. “He’s my dad.”
I first heard of the Elektro-Magician only a few days ago—although looking back, it feels like many months. I was in the Royal Tutor’s chambers when I noticed a slip of parchment. On the wrinkled, dirt-smudged page was a poem. The first few lines etched across my memory.
I stole the parchment and brought it with me to Urth. That’s where I heard the Elektro-Magician’s name uttered once again. Or…almost. The strange syllables came out differently when Kara said them:
Electrician.
Kara’s father discovered the portal to my world while inspecting the broken walk-in refrigerator at Legendtopia.
That was three years ago. He’s been here ever since.
After another hour of hiking, we gain our first glimpse of the Guirwelde ruins. A desolate landscape of charred stone—the only remains of a castle that was destroyed centuries ago.
And in the middle of these ruins, a massive carnival is taking place.
Mobs of people swarm between the crumbled walls, staggering in and out of open-air tents. Wild entertainment swirls all around them. Men on stilts juggling swords. Witches selling counterfeit potions. Dancing bears. Archery displays. Fire-breathers. Jousting. Singing. Dancing.
Kara peers at the celebrations from a distance. “What is all this?”
“The Thurphenwald tribes put on these carnivals,” I explain. “They’re nomads. Traveling the kingdom, organizing festivities wherever they go.”
Kara shields her eyes from the sun, squinting. “Do you see my dad?”
I shake my head. “We’re too far away.”
“Then let’s take a closer look.”
Kara hides her hair behind her scarf. I pull my hood over my head. The last thing we want is to be recognized. Or to draw attention to ourselves. Which means we probably shouldn’t show up with a gigantic, terrifying troll. And so Groo stays behind. So does Xyler. The cat’s already curling up on the grass for his midday nap by the time Kara and I set off for the carnival.
As we enter the carnival, a wild scene unfolds around us. Slovenly adults scream and curse. Spilling their drinks, they crowd around a ring where an armored faun has been forced to fight a unicorn.
A man stalks through the cheering throng, collecting bets and taking money. He wears a buzzard skull over his head like a helmet. His right cheek is branded with a burn in the shape of an X.
Kara shudders at the sight of the man. “What’s the deal with buzzard dude?”
“He wears the marks of a Thurphenwald tribesman.”
“So he’s one of the people running this whole show.”
I nod. “And so is she.”
Kara follows my glance to a similar-looking woman. Same buzzard skull, same X scar. She’s standing at the edge of a crater that’s been filled with murky water. Above her is a hand-painted sign that reads:
Inside the cramped crater, a miserable-looking mermaid swims in small circles through filthy water.
“An actual mermaid,” Kara whispers in awe. “And it’s being treated like…like trash. It’s awful.”
My gaze wanders over other sections of the carnival. A game of cards has turned into a shouting match. Accusations of cheating escalate into an all-out brawl. Nearby, a troll in rags is trapped in a rusty cage. A mob of men and women jostles the bars, shouting insults and throwing rotten vegetables at the troll.
And looming over all of it, scarred faces peer out greedily from beneath buzzard skulls.
A tribesman at the center of the ruins calls out in a harsh, raspy bellow. “Right this way to witness the Elektro-Magician!”
“My dad!” Kara breathes. “Come on!”
We hurry through the crowd. When we reach a wooden gate, a Thurphenwald woman glowers down at us.
“Six coppers,” she grunts.
Kara digs through the purse where she keeps the money earned from my ring, removing a coin with two small holes punched through it.
She shows it to me. “Is that enough?”
“That’s more than enough,” I reply. “It’s a twenty-copper piece.”
Without hes
itation, Kara offers the coin to the tribeswoman. “Here you go. Can I get change?”
The scarred woman laughs as she pockets the coin. Then she shoves us through the gate.
“Not the best customer service,” Kara mutters. But there’s no point arguing with the tribeswoman. It wouldn’t be a Thurphenwald carnival if you didn’t get cheated at least once. Besides, we have more important things to worry about.
Kara’s father is somewhere up there.
We jostle our way through a forest of arms and legs. The audience numbers in the hundreds. It’s impossible to see the stage through the thick swarm of other people. But everyone’s facing in the same direction. And so we keep moving that way. Pushing forward, dodging elbows.
A crack in the crowd opens up. Kara and I dart through it.
And all of a sudden, we’re in the front row. Ahead of us is a thick base of stone. And standing upon it is a single man. One glimpse of his face is enough to know…
He’s Kara’s father.
Dad.
The sight of him fills a hole inside me. A hole that opened up the day he vanished three years ago. Tears form a path down my cheeks. I swallow a sob, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.
It’s him.
It’s really him.
Dad’s black hair hangs down to his shoulders. Much longer than it ever was before he vanished. New wrinkles have formed on his face. Across his forehead. Branching out from his brown eyes. A sadness clings to his features that was never there before.
He’s wearing his old electrician’s uniform. Blue coveralls with his name stitched into the chest. I guess in a place like Heldstone, the clothes seem exotic. Magical even.
He paces the stage, casting his gaze out into the crowd. He hasn’t noticed me yet. And now I find myself wondering: Will he even recognize me? It’s been three years. I’m older now. Taller. And I’m a long way from home.
When he speaks, another wave of feeling crashes over me. I thought I’d forgotten his voice. But hearing it now, it’s as if no time has passed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Santiago Estrada. But you may call me the Elektro-Magician.” Dad grew up in Argentina. His accent turns every word into a kind of music as he speaks his rehearsed lines. “I come from another world. A world known as Earth. A world with its own form of magic. The magic of science.”
On a table beside him is a toolbox. It’s the same toolbox he took to work with him every day. Dad opens the box and removes a series of objects. A circuit board. Colorful bundles of wires. A hand crank. Each one sends a jolt of recognition through my memory. He used to plop them down on the living room floor, showing them off for my brother and me.
His hands fluidly move across his instruments. Connecting wires, latching parts into place. As he works, he continues his speech.
“The magic of technology makes it possible for carriages to move without horses. It enables people to have a conversation from opposite ends of the world. On Earth, winged machines soar through the air and light can be cast without a flame.”
Dad pulls another object out of his box. A lightbulb. After twisting a wire around the base, he begins turning a hand crank. Faster and faster and—
The bulb begins to glow.
The crowd lets out a collective gasp.
“This same magic is able to perform a lovely concert…” Dad raises an eyebrow. “Without a single musician.”
He attaches his wires to a homemade speaker. I remember him building the speaker in our garage when I was in the second grade. As he turns the crank again, an electronic whir spills out of the speaker. With his other hand, Dad adjusts a set of knobs and dials. The sound shifts and changes, transforming into a soft melody.
A ripple of amazement passes through the audience. Hushed whispers, bewildered laughter.
Dad always put on a good show. Everyone around me is enraptured. But even as he grins and calls out his lines, I can see the tug of sadness in his eyes. At either end of the stage, those Thurphenwald freaks are keeping a close eye on him. Glowering in his direction from beneath their creepy buzzard helmets.
“And for my next display of technological wonder, I would like to show you—”
Dad’s voice staggers to a halt. For the first time since we arrived, his attention has landed on the front row. And now he’s staring at one very specific member of the audience.
Me.
I wondered earlier whether he would recognize me after so long. Well, now I have zero doubt. All the color drains from his face. His eyes go huge with disbelief. And in that moment, the people in the crowd vanish. The creepy buzzard guys fade into nothing. Even Prince Fred ceases to exist. It’s as if there’s nobody else in the world.
Nobody but me and dad.
Dad and me.
Us.
Every muscle in my body wants to storm the stage. Rush into his arms. Bury my head in his chest. But that would be a bad idea. Dad’s guards are already looking ticked off. His show just skidded to a stop and the Thurphenwald creeps obviously don’t approve. One of them takes a menacing step toward him. The buzzard beak hangs low over the dude’s scarred face. His hand inches toward his belt, wrapping around the hilt of a crooked dagger.
Before the guard can get any closer, Dad snaps back into performer mode.
“My apologies for the interruption,” he bellows. “Sometimes the magic of Earth amazes even me.”
Chuckles spread through the audience. The Thurphenwald guard backs away.
Dad gives me one last look. And even though I haven’t seen or spoken to him in three years, I know exactly what his eyes are trying to tell me.
Come and find me after the show.
And then he continues with his performance.
After the show, we bribe a Thurphenwald tribeswoman for a little alone time with the Elektro-Magician. She leads us around the side of the stage, past a series of troubling signs—
“Uh…” I glance around nervously. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?”
The tribeswoman only glares at me from below her buzzard helmet. Then she points a crooked dagger in the direction of a locked cage.
Dad is crouched inside.
I run to the cage. On the other side of the bars, Dad rushes forward. For several seconds, neither of us says a word. I can feel his eyes examining every detail of my face, as if comparing the girl in front of him with the daughter from his memory. The daughter he hasn’t seen in three years.
“It’s really you.” His voice trembles. “I—I can’t believe this.”
I wipe away a tear. “Ditto.”
His electrician’s uniform looks two sizes too big. From up close, I can see how much skinnier he’s become. His dingy cage is too small for him to stand at full height, and so he’s hunched forward. But even in these miserable conditions, Dad looks overjoyed. He reaches for my hand, but freezes at a sound behind us. A harsh grunt from the tribeswoman. Above the X scar on her cheek, her eyes are pure malice.
“No touching,” she warns.
Dad’s hand slides backward reluctantly.
The Thurphenwald woman crosses her arms and takes a step closer to us. With her looming so close, I can’t tell Dad any of the things I really want to say. How Mom and my brother, Neal, and I have never gone a day without thinking about him. The crazy quest that brought me here.
And we definitely can’t discuss how I’m supposed to break him out of his cage.
If I don’t want to raise any suspicions, I’ll have to choose my words very carefully.
“I’m…uh—such a huge admirer of yours,” I say. “My friend and I traveled such a long way to see you.”
Dad stares in wonderment. “I can only imagine.”
“My mother and brother couldn’t…er—make the trip. They’re back at home. But I’m sure they would love to see you someday. Somehow.”
Dad nods with understanding. “I’d like that, too. Very much. Unfortunately, that might be…difficult.” He squeezes the bars of his cage. “U
nder the circumstances.”
“Maybe we can…find another way.”
Dad’s eyes gleam. “Maybe so.”
Our conversation is interrupted by another rude grunt.
“Time’s up,” says the Thurphenwald tribeswoman.
I twist a desperate glance at the woman. “Please. Just a few more minutes.”
She only shakes her head. “You’ve trespassed too long already. Now you leave.”
I turn back to Dad. Stare deep into his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is full of hidden significance.
“I guess this is goodbye,” he says. “For now. But as long as you’re here, you should take a look around. This carnival can be so distracting.”
The last word hangs in the air, thick as smoke. Before he can say anything else, the tribeswoman jabs me in the side with her boot.
“Let’s go.” The grip on her dagger tightens. “Now.”
My head is crowded with questions, with things I still need to say, with the truth I’m not allowed to speak. Not here. Not with this sinister buzzard lady so close.
She shoves me. We begin walking.
Glancing backward, I manage to catch one last glimpse of my dad. Clinging to the bars of his cage, tears in his eyes. Suddenly, we turn a corner and he’s gone.
Next thing I know, Fred and I are wandering through the carnival again. People all around us. Shouts, laughter, the smell of cooking food in the air.
“Well,” Fred says. “What now?”
My gaze sweeps across the raucous scene all around me before finally landing on Fred. “Now we break my dad out of here.”
Fred narrows his eyes at me. “Yes, but how?”
“Didn’t you hear him?” The tiniest smile cracks my lips. “He told us exactly what we need to do.”
Has Kara lost her mind? She’s acting as if her father just handed over instructions about breaking him loose. And yet—I was there. He said no such thing. Certainly not with the Thurphenwald tribeswoman hanging on their every word.
