The Battle for Urth

by Lee Bacon

  Fear and disbelief swirl inside me. The Cyclops skeleton just came to life. Like, really came to life. This isn’t some cheesy puppet. There aren’t any strings. No animatronic programming.

  All of this—the magician’s workshop, the one-eyed skeleton, the scary witch lady…

  It’s all real.

  I flinch when a hand grips my arm. White fingers are wrapped around my wrist. I tilt my gaze upward to see a one-eyed skull leering back at me.

  I try to pull away, but it’s impossible to break the skeleton’s grasp. Panic surges through me. Choking back tears, I turn to the pale woman.

  “Wh-why are you doing this?” The words quaver as they leave my lips. “Wh-what do you want?”

  The woman’s dark eyes flick across the room. Toward the small wooden door. And when she speaks, her voice is cold and terrifying.

  “I want you to take me to your world.”

  I race out of the Hall of Learning with the poem in my waistcoat. Perhaps it’s not very princely of me to say so, but the small act of thievery has lifted my spirits. When I reach the stairwell, I slide down the golden banister. Servants and groomsmen bow as I zip past them.

  At the bottom of the stairs is the baker’s apprentice, carrying a tray of bread. As I approach, he lowers his head respectfully.

  And I snatch a loaf of bread off his tray.

  The loaf is warm and crispy and nearly as long as my arm. I grip it tightly and swing it with all my might. It isn’t quite a sword, but apparently it’s as close as I’ll get.

  Spinning around, I jab my bread sword, knocking a bowl of grapes off the dining room table.

  “Die, foul beast!” I declare. Grapes roll onto the floor.

  I enter the hallway, swinging and thrusting the bread sword. Suddenly, enemies are everywhere. In my imagination, my surroundings change into a battlefield. Furnishings transform into a rampaging army. A plush armchair becomes a vicious little dwarf with a battle-ax. A tapestry on the wall looks like a horde of ogres.

  And the enemies just keep coming. Twirling to the side, I defend myself against a statue, behead a vase of flowers, and severely injure a candlestick holder.

  “Nobody can defeat Prince Frederick the Fourteenth!” I bellow triumphantly. “The greatest swordsman in the entire—oof!”

  Before I know what’s happening, I’m tumbling onto the carpet. Glancing back, I see what tripped me.

  Xyler.

  I should mention Xyler is a cat.

  A cat with a habit of getting tangled in my feet.

  “Xyler!” I groan. “What in the seven moons are you doing?”

  The cat’s eyes land on the bread sword that I’m hugging against my chest. “I might ask you the same question, Your Highness.”

  I look down at the bread. A few crumbs are stuck to my waistcoat. “I’m just…having a bite to eat.”

  It’s obvious that Xyler doesn’t believe my lie. But I’m the prince, and he spends most of his time either napping or licking himself. So he lets the matter drop.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Xyler says. “I suppose you’re busy preparing for the Luminary Ball?”

  “Yes. Extremely busy.” I climb to my feet, dusting away the crumbs. “I should probably be going.”

  “Enjoy the bread, Your Highness,” Xyler replies.

  Once I’m alone again, I return to the battle. Roaming the palace, I bravely fight off all the furnishings, paintings, and decorations that dare stand in my path. As I make my way down the corridor, I hear a woman’s harsh scream echo through the palace.

  “Get her! Do not let her escape!”

  The voice belongs to the Sorceress. And it’s followed by a cacophony of footsteps. A moment later, a figure turns the corner.

  A very strangely dressed girl.

  She seems to be running for her life.

  The boy looks like he’s from another century. He’s wearing a flowery vest over a puffy white shirt with big floppy sleeves. Gold buttons run down the front of his purple coat. Instead of pants, he’s in gray tights. On his feet are shiny slippers and in his hand is a baguette.

  But there’s one thing about the boy that stands out most of all.

  We’re about to run into each other.

  A minute ago, I was trapped inside the room with the creepy witch lady and her skeleton sidekick. The one-eyed skeleton grabbed my wrist. Its bony feet clicked eerily against the tiles as it pulled me toward the miniature door.

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  I had to do something. Had to figure out a way to escape. As we passed the big wooden desk, I noticed the feather quill. The one I’d been fiddling with before the witch entered the room. Lunging sideways, I grabbed the feather with my free hand. And before the witch could react, I stabbed her with the quill’s sharp point.

  “Aaaagh!” She staggered backward.

  The pain must’ve broken her spell, because the one-eyed skeleton immediately loosened its grip.

  Before either of them could recover, I took off running. The witch was blocking my path to the miniature door, so I went in the opposite direction. The arched wooden doorway that she’d entered through.

  As I sped toward the exit, I heard the witch’s voice.

  “Get her!” she shrieked. “Do not let her escape!”

  This was followed by the quick clatter of bone feet against the floor. It sounded like the skeleton was gaining on me.

  I spun through the door and into a fancy hallway that was lined with gold-framed paintings and the kind of furniture you see only in museums. Not that I was paying much attention to the decorating scheme. I was way too busy running for my life.

  Turning a corner, I spotted him—

  The boy in the fancy old-fashioned clothing.

  And that’s the moment when we collide.

  Staggering backward, the boy gives me an infuriated look. “What in the seven moons is the meaning of this?” He has the same English accent as the witch. He peers over my shoulder just as the skeleton appears in the hall. “And why are you being chased by a one-eyed skeleton?”

  I do my best to reply between gulping breaths. “No time to explain.” Gasp. “We should run.” Wheeze. “Now!”

  “Nonsense.” The boy levels a haughty gaze at the skeleton. “I command you to stop running at once.”

  The one-eyed skeleton keeps running.

  The boy stomps his foot like a child who’s not used to being ignored. “I said stop!”

  The skeleton doesn’t stop.

  All of a sudden, the boy’s expression changes. The arrogance and anger vanish from his features. Now he looks surprised. And afraid. The skeleton’s click-clacking footsteps grow louder and louder. Its skull face grins wickedly. Any chance of escaping is long gone. So instead, I grab a heavy ceramic vase off its marble stand.

  As I raise the vase above my head, the boy gasps.

  “Be careful with that!” he snaps. “It’s a priceless artifa—”

  SMASH!

  I slam the vase into the skeleton. Ceramic shards and disconnected bones explode everywhere.

  “Mother loved that vase,” the boy mutters.

  “We’ll worry about your mom later,” I say. “Right now, I need a place to hide.”

  “Hide? From whom?”

  Fear twists inside my chest. “From her.”

  The boy follows my gaze to the end of the hall. The witch. Any trace of the beautiful woman I first encountered is gone. Her black hair tangles around her pale face like a nest of thorns. Her high cheekbones look as sharp as daggers. Her blood-red lips are twisted with rage as her shriek echoes through the hall.

  “You will take me to your world, or you will suffer!” She thrusts out a hand, aiming her pale fingers.

  CRAAAACK!

  White light rushes toward me. The boy grabs a gold-framed mirror off the wall and we duck behind it. In the next instant, the light collides with the mirror.

  We tumble backward. The spell reflects in the
other direction…and smacks the witch in the stomach. She collapses.

  Huddled behind the mirror, the boy and I peer at the Sorceress. She’s sprawled out on the floor, her mouth frozen in an expression of pain. The only sign that she’s still alive is the rise and fall of her chest.

  Beside me, the boy stands. “Well, that was certainly…” His voice cracks. “Unexpected.”

  “That thing you did with the mirror,” I begin. “Knocking the witch out with her own spell—that was brilliant.”

  The boy glances at the mirror in his hands like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Uh…yes, of course. Just as I planned.”

  He sets the mirror down gently among the chaos of ceramic shards and one-eyed-skeleton bones. Then he turns his attention to me.

  “What is your name?” he asks.

  “Kara. Kara Estrada.”

  “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Kara Estrada. My name is Frederick Alexander Siegfried Maria Thorston the Fourteenth, Prince of the Realm.”

  “Prince? Like, a real prince?”

  “Of course. Surely you’ve heard of me!”

  “Actually, I haven’t. But I’m kinda new here. And to be honest, your name isn’t exactly easy to remember. I bet most people just call you Prince Fred?”

  The boy stares back at me. “Nobody has ever called me that.”

  I cast a nervous look at the unconscious witch. “Who is she, anyway?”

  “The Sorceress. She’s the highest-ranking, most powerful magician in the entire kingdom. She may be the most sinister as well.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression.”

  “Why was she attacking you?”

  “She didn’t really give much of an explanation. Something about taking her to my world.”

  “Your world?”

  “I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was crawling around in a smelly refrigerator. And the next—I was here.”

  The prince’s mouth hangs open. “What is a refrigerator?”

  “You know what—it doesn’t really matter.” I begin walking back the way I came. “It was nice meeting you, Prince Fred. And thanks for helping me. I really do appreciate it. But I need to get going.”

  “Going?” the prince calls after me. “Where?”

  “Back to my world.”

  I hurry past the unconscious Sorceress and into her evil science lab. All I want is to get out of this place.

  Behind me, I hear the prince running to catch up.

  “This world that you come from. Is it called…Earth?” He has the same weird way of pronouncing “Earth” that the Sorceress had. “I’ve heard the legend.”

  My gaze shifts from Prince Fred to the miniature doorway. “Look, this has been…interesting. I wish I could stick around a little longer. But I don’t want anything to do with the Sorceress. Besides…” My hand drifts up to my throat. “I lost something on the other side of that door. Something important to me. I need to get it back.”

  I begin moving toward the door again. But I freeze when Prince Fred speaks up.

  “I’m coming with you!” he declares.

  I turn to face him. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “This is no jest. I intend to go with you.”

  “But you’re a prince. You live in a castle. Your life must be awesome.”

  He shakes his head. “A prince should be bold and courageous. Nobody in this palace allows me to be either of those things. Perhaps in your kingdom, everything will be different.”

  “It’s not a kingdom,” I point out. “It’s just a normal boring town.”

  “Regardless. I must see Urth for myself!”

  “What if you get stuck there? What if you can’t get back?”

  “That’s a risk I have to accept.” He nods once, clenching his jaw. “If I’m to have a life worthy of my ancestors’ great achievements, then I must go through that door. There’s no other way.”

  I let out a sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Just as long as we get out of here before the Sorceress wakes up.”

  I pull the latch and the small wooden door creaks open. Prince Fred lets out a gasp. Then he follows me through the opening.

  Unfortunately, neither of us thinks to close the door behind us.

  Hunched forward in the confined tunnel, I run as quickly as I can without banging my head. Behind me, I can hear Prince Fred shuffling to keep up. Little by little, the light of the torches fades into darkness and the bricks become stainless steel. Soon enough, I get my first whiff of rotten vegetables.

  I never thought I’d be so happy to smell something so stinky.

  I push a few boxes aside, stumbling into the main part of the fridge. It’s nearly pitch-black by now. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. Swipe, tap. The flashlight activates. A bright glow illuminates the inside of the refrigerator.

  Prince Fred trips over a box and tumbles into me. “What manner of wizardry is this?”

  “It’s not wizardry,” I say. “It’s a cell phone.”

  “Cell…phone.” He pronounces each word like he’s never heard it before. Which I guess he hasn’t. “It’s marvelous.”

  In the light of the phone, the prince looks around at the metal shelves and the old cardboard boxes.

  “Where are we?” he asks.

  “A walk-in refrigerator. I don’t know how it happened, or why, but it seems to be some kind of portal. Between your world and mine. When we go through that door”—I point with the phone—“we’ll be in my world.”

  What happens then? I mean, the guy looks and talks like something straight out of an old book of fairy tales. I can’t imagine he’ll fit in too well in Shady Pines.

  But he also saved my life. If it hadn’t been for his mirror trick, I would’ve been blasted by the spell. If Prince Fred wants to be a tourist in Shady Pines for a little while, then I’ll do what I can to help him. I owe him that, at least.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  The prince takes a deep breath. “Absolutely.”

  “All right, then. Let’s go.”

  I push open the door and we step into the kitchen. So far, so good. The cooks have their backs turned to us. And there’s no sign of the employees who chased me here.

  “Just keep down,” I whisper. “And try not to get—”

  “Hey, you kids!”

  Noticed.

  The elf is looking right at us. “Hey, Lenny! I found ’em!”

  The scrawny teenage knight comes stumbling into the kitchen, a riot of clanking armor. “You’re in big trouble, kid!” CLANK! BONK! “You’d better have a good excuse.”

  What am I supposed to say? Sorry, but after you guys chased me into this walk-in refrigerator, I got transported to another world. There was an evil witch, a one-eyed skeleton, a prince—I barely made it out alive.

  Does that count as an excuse?

  The knight points his clunky glove at Prince Fred. “Who the heck is this?”

  Standing up very straight, the prince adjusts his coat. “My name is Frederick Alexander Siegfried Maria Thorston the Fourteenth, Prince of the Realm. I am a visitor to your world. I passed through an enchanted—”

  “Uh…he’s kidding,” I interrupt. “Actually, he…he works here.”

  The elf wrinkles his forehead. “Isn’t he a little young to have a job?”

  “It’s a work-study program,” I blurt out. “He just started. Isn’t that right, Fred?”

  I nudge him with my elbow, hoping he’ll play along. He doesn’t.

  “That most certainly is not correct!” He stomps his foot. “I am no mere kitchen servant! My mother and father are king and queen of Heldstone!”

  “Ha ha!” Even though I’m beginning to lose my patience with Prince Fred, I put on a big fake smile. “He’s hilarious! Already in character.”

  The knight and the elf look seriously confused. But they’ve suddenly dropped to the bottom of my stuff-to-worry-about list. Because right then, I hear a click and a clump behind us. I spin to look back at the walk-in re
frigerator just as the door swings open.

  A shape moves in the darkness of the open fridge. A pale face and two deep-black eyes.

  Looks like the Sorceress woke up from her nap.

  And she followed us back.

  Urth is strange. We have entered a large kitchen. Food simmers on stoves. Pots and pans are everywhere. And roaming through the kitchen is an extremely peculiar duo.

  An elf and a knight.

  Except I can’t help noticing that the knight is not at all knightly. More like a splotchy teenager with a weak excuse for a mustache. Next to him is the strangest elf I’ve ever seen. His ears are misshapen and false-looking. In his hand is a cooking instrument.

  I’m still trying to make sense of all this when our odd group is joined by a most unwelcome visitor.

  The Sorceress.

  Her dark gaze lands upon the new surroundings. When she speaks, her voice is soft, and yet it seems to shake the entire room.

  “So this is Urth?” she breathes with astonishment. “I like it. I believe I shall make it my own.”

  I turn a quivering glance in Kara’s direction. “Did you forget to close the door?”

  “You were the last one through,” she hisses. “Why didn’t you close it?”

  I shrug. “My servants always close the door for me.”

  “Come now, little children,” the Sorceress interjects. A smile cracks her blood-red lips. “There is no point arguing. You shall both be dead soon enough, anyway.”

  Raising one hand, she points at the oven beside us.

  CRAAAACK!

  A beam of light bursts from the Sorceress’s hand and collides with the oven. An instant later, the oven undergoes a disturbing transformation.

  It comes to life.

  The oven clanks across the floor. Turning to face us, its front door flaps open. A massive flame bursts out.

  Our group scatters. Kara and I escape in one direction. The elf flees in the other. And the knight falls into a pathetic metal clump behind a counter.

  “Oh, man!” he whines. “I don’t wanna die!”

  I duck beside him. “Why are you hiding? What kind of knight are you, anyway?”