Ellanor and the Search for Organoth Blue Amber

by K T Durham

  Elly stared at the creature in terror, the truth sinking in. She clutched at her heart. “You’re a… you’re a goblin?” Her face contorted with horror and revulsion.

  Gutz threw its head back and laughed. “I suppose the contrast between me and pretty Edellina is quite significant, is it not?”

  She staggered backwards. “You… you mean all these months… you’ve been masquerading as Edellina? But… but how . . . ?”

  Gutz cackled, saliva oozing from its mouth. Elly shuddered, her skin crawling. “Oh, it did get very tiresome towards the end. You cannot imagine how tedious it is to pretend you like someone when you actually despise them. But I had to follow my orders. And now I’ve succeeded, have I not?”

  “What do you want from me?” she whimpered, her eyes swivelling to the door thirty feet away. But the goblin was blocking her. There was no way out.

  “I have much to do, and you are still of use to me,” Gutz rasped, taking a step towards her.

  “No! Get away from me!” she screamed, swinging her arms out in front of her like a mad person. She had not yet learned any proper defensive magic. Then she felt the warmth of the portal against her back, and she groaned.

  The goblin laughed and shook its head, advancing towards her. “Poor, poor Elly. You shouldn’t have been so trusting.”

  Then Gutz stopped in its tracks and swivelled around. Voices and footsteps were approaching. Incensed, Gutz snarled and lunged towards Elly with its long, spindly arm outstretched, bony hands grasping for her belt, its red eyes gleaming with malice and greed. Elly screamed.

  Then Gutz let out a blood-curdling shriek that ricocheted through the dome. The Royan had burned its hands. Screaming in pain and rage, the goblin pushed Elly towards the portal, and it was about to follow. But the voices were now upon them, and Elly turned her head just in time to see the writhing goblin being held back by two pairs of hands.

  Then a blinding silver light erupted as she plunged head-first into the portal, warmth enveloping her. Elly cried out, shielding her eyes with her arm.

  “Elly!” cried a voice.

  It was too late. She was taken away from the only home she knew.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Shoemaker and His Wife

  She was thinking hard as she looked down at a piece of paper scribbled with numbers and strange symbols. But they made no sense to her.

  She was feeling very sad. But she didn’t know why.

  Then she was fiddling with something called a pencil case. It was a tattered green thing with loose threads sticking out. She needed to get something called an eraser.

  As she opened up the pencil case, a little compact mirror popped up. It was cracked in the middle. She saw her reflection, somewhat blurry: the same rosy cheeks, bright-green eyes, the leaf-shaped ears. The short, curly black hair.

  Who are you?

  When Elly groggily opened her eyes, her cheek was pressed against hard wood.

  Had she been dreaming? Who was that girl?

  She got up and groaned, her head throbbing. She blinked and rubbed her bleary eyes. Her vision was spotted with stars. Everything around her looked oddly closed in, stuffy, and dark. How long had she been unconscious? She ached everywhere.

  She closed her eyes and waited for the swirling sensation to pass. Then she caught a vague whiff of the invisibility perfume that lingered on her hair, reminding her of the events of the previous night.

  The portal. Edellina.

  Her pulse quickened as she thought about her friend. No, that creature was not her friend. The goblin infiltrator… Gutz. Was this all a bad dream? Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. She wiped them away angrily.

  For a while she sat thinking in the dark, shivering, drowning in the blackness of despair and shock.

  When she’d first brought Edellina back home to play, her parents were delighted that Elly had made a new friend. Mama in particular was glad that her daughter finally had a girlfriend. “Don’t get me wrong, dear—you know I adore Aron. He’s practically part of our family. But it’s nice seeing you with another girl,” Mama said with a smile. Everyone seemed to like Edellina, who was beautiful and charming. All except Marlow.

  When Edellina tried to pet him for the first time, Marlow narrowed his eyes and retreated. “He can be a little moody; don’t mind him,” Elly hurriedly reassured Edellina, who merely shrugged her shoulders and walked away.

  Elly felt sorely embarrassed. “You don’t have to be so rude, Marlow!” she said crossly as she stalked away from her griffin.

  She found Edellina in the hallway looking interestedly at the paintings on the walls. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look around. You do have a lovely home,” she said sweetly, glancing around. Elly blushed at the compliment. Surely, the Three Flamingos would never say such a thing about her house, which was small and plain compared to their adorned mansions. She thought Edellina was so sweet.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. The friendship with Edellina had been a lie.

  Elly had never even met Edellina’s family. She simply believed everything Edellina told her—all lies, she now realized. In reality, she hadn’t really known much about Edellina at all.

  But Marlow must have sensed something about Edellina. How could she have been so easily fooled by the goblin all along? Why didn’t the other elves sense anything?

  She took a deep, shuddering breath to quiet her thudding heart.

  At least I’ve still got Aron, she thought. As long as Aron is my one true friend, I can bear it.

  She was burning with questions. What did the goblin want with her? Why did it try to take her Royan and push her through the portal?

  But there was nobody to answer her.

  Then she gasped. The others must be warned about the goblin masquerading as Edellina! Gutz might try to hurt them!

  But she slumped back, dropping her head into her hands. She didn’t even know where she was right now. If she had indeed fallen through the portal, then she must be in…

  Gaya. The human realm.

  Her heart sank with dread.

  It was then she realized that there was a soft pulsating blue light glowing near her. She turned and stared. There was something nestled in a pile of woolly fabrics. She looked closer. It was a slab of stone perched on some sort of stand. Her eyes widened in recognition.

  Carved into the strange glowing slab was something that resembled the Tree of Alendria.

  Cautiously, she put a palm up close to the surface. It seemed to radiate a gentle warmth. The blue light began growing dimmer, and then went out altogether. As the warmth dissipated, Elly started shivering in the cold. She gazed at the slab. Was this how she had crossed over? Was this the portal? But it looked so small compared to the one in Alendria.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she surveyed the surroundings. She had the odd sensation that she was in some sort of cramped, musty-smelling space. There was a sliver of light in front of her, and it took her a long time to realize it was like some sort of gigantic door that was ajar, as though somebody had tried to close it in a hurry. Slowly, she crawled forward and peeked through the gap.

  There was a faint light coming from a strange-looking sun supported by a pillar—or was that the moon? Confused, she blinked, and then it finally registered: It was a huge table lamp near a window, partially covered by drawn curtains. She saw some large, dark shadows that for a moment frightened her. Were they cast by giants? Those dark, hulking shapes turned out to be furniture of sorts, only it was massive: a rocking chair, next to which was a straw basket containing several balls of blue wool; a low table, on top of which was a steaming cup of tea. She sniffed and smelled something like leather mingled with other unfamiliar scents.

  Why did everything look so enormous here? Then it finally dawned on Elly that in Gaya, she was a hundredth her usual size. She had read
that inter-realm teleporting could do funny things to your size. For all she knew, a human would look like a giant in Alendria. The thought made her shudder.

  Then she heard a snarling noise and froze in terror. The goblin flashed across her mind, making her stomach turn.

  “What is it, Snowy? Are you hunting down mice again?” a gentle voice chided affectionately.

  Then without warning, the doors of the cupboard swung wide open. Gasping, Elly lost her balance and fell backwards. “Ow!” she cried, rubbing the sore spot on her bottom.

  Then she looked up, right into the face of an old lady with bleary brown eyes and tousled silver hair tied into a careless bun. Those eyes focused on Elly and widened, by turns in surprise, confusion, then shock. There was a plump black cat at her feet, its round yellow eyes narrowing into slits as it hissed at the strange green-eyed creature in the cupboard.

  Elly cried out and jumped to her feet, panic surging through her like electricity. The old lady put a hand over her mouth—and let out a hair-raising scream.

  “Horace!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Terrified, Elly stumbled as she took flight. Her arm knocked hard against the slab. It lurched out of the woolly fabrics and slid over the smooth wood, teetered on the edge, and dropped onto the cold, hard floor beneath with a resounding crack.

  She darted past the old lady’s head, brushing against wisps of silver hair. Snowy leapt up and took a swipe at Elly, but luckily she was too swift. Elly flew up and looked around frantically before hurtling towards the chandelier suspended from the high ceiling. Shaking, and oblivious of the old cobwebs spread like a blanket over the dusty brass rungs, she clung on and peered down from a rather great height, swinging lightly back and forth. The old, rickety chandelier groaned from the unfamiliar weight of her, light as she was.

  Then heavy footfalls approached. The door to the room creaked open, and there emerged a tall, pot-bellied man with a balding head and snow-white beard. His old suede boots scraped against the worn wooden floor as he trudged towards his wife. He sounded agitated. “What is it now, Miriam?” he grumbled. “I was just working on a new pair of shoes!” Then he noticed her staring open-mouthed at the chandelier, and glowered.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell me you need me to kill another bloomin’ cockroach for you!” he exclaimed. “You know how to use those bug sprays by now, don’t you?”

  Before he turned away to grab the can of Roach Terminator from the kitchen cupboard, his wife clutched at his arm.

  “N-n-not a flying roach this time, Horace!” she stuttered, her eyes wild. She hesitated, then leaned close to him and whispered hoarsely, “I think… I think your grandfather was telling the truth about… about… those creatures.” With a shaking finger, she pointed up towards the swinging chandelier.

  Horace blinked. “Do you mean,” he began slowly, looking up at the chandelier, “there’s… there’s something up there?” Then he caught sight of tiny, pale, slender limbs clutching onto the brass rungs, a purple dress, a shock of long black hair, small pointy ears, and two bright green dots blinking fearfully down at them.

  He staggered. “Oh, dear Lord!” he croaked. Was he seeing right? Had he drunk too much brandy? No, that couldn’t be it. Miriam and that snooty cat could see the… creature, too.

  Long ago, when Horace was a young lad, his grandfather, the legendary shoemaker Lawrence Cobble, had recounted some strange events that took place long before Horace was even born. The business was doing so poorly that he and his wife were living on stale bread and were down to their last piece of leather. His rags to riches tale, retold countless times, spread so far and wide that it eventually attracted the interest of two educated German brothers (he couldn’t remember whether they were surnamed Green or Grum), who were in the process of compiling a book of folk stories. They paid the famous shoemaker a visit, and shortly afterward, Lawrence Cobble’s tale was published in their thick book.

  Back then, naive and eager to believe in magic, Horace had listened with undivided attention. But all the grown-ups thought Lawrence Cobble must have been missing a few marbles with all that strange talk about… elves.

  1930s, London

  The first time Horace listened to the tale, he was about to go to bed after a hearty Christmas Eve meal.

  “I had to write it all down in my journal, lest my memory fail me!” said Grandfather Cobble as he settled himself comfortably into the rocking chair next to the bed, where young Horace was already nicely tucked up, his eyelids heavy. He had asked for a bedtime story, and had little idea what was in store.

  “Your Grandmother Polly and I had fallen on hard times. Our larder was almost empty and business was difficult everywhere, my lad, what with the dismal economy, the flu epidemic, and all the misfortunes that came with the aftermath of the war. By that time, we had sent our little Richard—your father—to relatives in Scotland, for they were doing much better than we were. My sister Elizabeth had taken pity on Richard’s welfare, God bless her kind soul. We were down to our very last piece of leather, and most needn’t have bothered. Grandmother Polly and I were barely surviving, and we were losing hope. I took it as my final duty to craft a fine pair of shoes with what we had left. I prayed that afterwards we could pass away peacefully in each other’s arms as we both died of hunger.” He had tears in his eyes as he recalled the dark days. “But that night I was too exhausted to stay up and work, so I retired to bed before midnight.

  “The good Lord must have taken pity on us. The next morning, upon my worktable was the most exquisite pair of shoes I had ever seen. The craftsmanship was simply flawless, my dear boy. I was delighted to lay eyes on such a masterpiece; yet I was envious at the same time. Who could have made such exquisite shoes, I wondered?”

  At this, he paused to take a puff on his pipe. Horace was fighting to keep his eyes open as his grandfather resumed.

  “There was something magical about those shoes. Of course they were, because they were made by magical creatures, though we didn’t know it at the time.

  “There was no way my run-down little shop could’ve ever attracted the attention of wealthy pedestrians. But those shoes… oh my, you should have seen them! Once I put them out in the window display, my whole shop seemed to light up! Suddenly, I was getting wealthy customers coming in asking to try on the shoes. It was like they had been bewitched. They were even willing to pay five times the usual amount! So I sold those shoes to the highest bidder, and earned enough to buy plenty more leather and put some fresh food on the table. That very night, your grandmother and I cried over our first shepherd’s pie in two years.

  “Day after day, the same thing happened. I would wake up in the morning to more and more pairs of beautifully crafted shoes on the worktable. Over the course of several months, I went from pauper to rich shoemaker. A real rags-to-riches story. Who had ever heard of such a thing—a rich cobbler!” He chuckled and leaned back in his rocking chair.

  Horace, his eyes now wide open, sat up in bed. “What happened next, Grandpa?” he asked eagerly. That summer, he had been trying to earn extra pocket money. He wanted to become rich, too.

  “We were preparing to have Richard come back to live with us. But before his return, we wanted to find out once and for all who our wonderful benefactors were. We were in their debt, and we wanted to thank them properly. So one night, we decided to stay up and do some spying.”

  He stretched out his long legs, cringing as his joints cracked.

  “In my workshop was a little storage space at the back where I kept old tools. We hid there, behind the curtain. It was dark. The moonlight streamed through the windows. Your grandmother was knitting—oh yes, she could have knitted with her eyes closed—and I was dozing off.

  “It must have been long past midnight when Polly shook me by the shoulder. ‘Wake up!’ she whispered, like she had seen a ghost. ‘Tell me I’m not imagining this
!’ I was still groggy from sleep. I peeked through the gap between the curtains. And I was sure at that moment that my heart had stopped.

  “In the moonlight, we saw two little creatures on the worktable. At first it was hard to watch them, because they were moving about so swiftly that their arms and legs at times became a blur. When they stopped for a moment or two, I could see them more clearly. They were about the size of a teaspoon, fair-haired, and very slender, and they seemed to be clad in white summer garments, though it was the middle of January and freezing. I could not tell whether they were male or female. I thought they were both going about things silently, but as I listened more closely, I could make out a soft humming. I realized they were actually singing a rather pretty song, but not in any language I could understand.

  “So there we were, both hunched up like thieves in the night, afraid to breathe or move an inch. They appeared to see remarkably well in the dark. By the time they were almost done, dawn was near, and Polly and I still could not take our eyes off them.

  “Finally, they stretched like cats and sort of danced about a little, before leaping up onto the cabinet where we kept odds and ends. They literally ran into the blue stone and disappeared.

  “The blue stone—that’s what I called the strange slab of stone that would change from yellow to blue during the day, depending on where it was placed in the sunlight. It was actually rather beautiful, with something like a tree etched into it. We used it as a paperweight from time to time. I was once sorely tempted to sell it. We needed the money, but thankfully, your Grandmother stopped me.

  “‘You can’t sell a family heirloom!’ Polly cried. It was something that my grandfather had come into possession of during his business travels in the tea trade, somewhere exotic in the Caribbean. Some old woman at the market had insisted on giving it to him for good luck. So he passed it down to my father, who then passed it on to me. After those two little creatures leapt into that blue stone and vanished, Polly and I realized that the blue stone was magical, must be some sort of portal for them to cross over from their world.”