The Skeleton Horse

by Maya Grace

  There was no time to think. Spiders were crawling out of the trees now, spilling off branches. As they dropped to the ground below, the bony jockeys on their backs raised their bows.

  “Shoot back!” Rowan cried. “Use my bow!”

  Ella reached for it. But how could she hang on to Rowan with one hand and fire off an arrow with the other? She couldn’t! Instead, she pulled the trident from her waist. The three-pronged spear was heavy, but Gran had taught her how to throw it like a spear.

  Ella spun around at the waist and suddenly realized that Gran and Jack were right behind her—the chestnut mare was following Victory, nose to tail. Then Ella saw the spider jockey ride up beside Gran, its bow raised.

  “Look out!” Ella cried. But Gran couldn’t fight back. She was riding bareback, hanging on to the horse’s mane—and to Jack—for dear life. She shot Ella a look that said, Do something—fast!

  Jack was trying to do something. He used his teeth to pull a cork out of a bottle of splash potion. But there’s no time, thought Ella.

  She raised her arm and whipped the trident at the spider jockey. As it zoomed past the skeleton and plummeted toward the ground below, her stomach dropped with it. But the trident distracted the skeleton. He lowered his bow.

  Ella had to strike again—now. She held her hand open, waiting. She had enchanted the trident with Loyalty, which meant that it would come back to her, as loyal as Taiga the wolf. Ella’s heart hurt at the thought of her wolf. Please let him be okay!

  Smack! The trident was back in her hand, ready for another throw. But Victory was racing through the forest now, dodging trees and low-hanging branches. Ella wobbled from side to side on the horse’s back, desperate to hang on.

  “Duck!” cried Rowan.

  Ella did, just in time to miss the branch that could have knocked her off the horse.

  As they sped deeper into the dark forest, she kept her head low and her mind focused on one thought: Please let us make it out of here alive—and my loyal wolf, too.

  * * *

  “High noon,” said Gran, staring upward as she tied her horse’s rope to the trunk of a birch tree.

  Ella glanced up quickly. But the canopy of trees was so thick overhead, she could barely see the cracks of sunlight shining through. She wished she could fly to the top, quick as a bird, and raise her face toward the sky. Then she would part the branches and search for Taiga. Where was he?

  She slid off the back of Rowan’s horse and called again. “Taiga!”

  From atop Gran’s horse, Jack called out, too. “Lucky!”

  Their voices rang off the tree trunks and came right back, like tridents.

  “Listen for your animals,” said Gran. “You know how.”

  Ella nodded. She squeezed her eyes shut and listened with her heart and her mind, not only with her ears. She heard a wolf howling, and then two or three others. A pack of wolves howled mournfully. But not one of them was Taiga.

  She opened her eyes, avoiding Gran’s questioning glance. “I don’t hear him,” she said softly. But what did that mean? Had something happened to her wolf? Fear pricked the back of her neck.

  “I don’t hear Lucky either,” Jack mumbled. “I wish I had a potion of hearing.”

  Rowan cocked her head and gazed off into the distance. “I hear wolves—they’re howling, I think. Why can’t you hear them, Ella?”

  Ella shook her head. “I do hear them, but they’re not Taiga.”

  “They’re still your wolves,” said Gran. “We need them to help us fight, remember?”

  Ella swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

  “Can you tell where they are?” asked Gran.

  Ella squeezed her eyes shut again. This time, she not only heard the howling wolves, but she also saw them—trotting along a dirt path through the forest. The lead wolf stopped and turned back, howling at the others to keep up. Beside him, Ella saw what looked like a giant . . . mushroom.

  She chuckled. “That can’t be right.”

  “What?” said Gran. “Tell me what you see.”

  As Ella described the giant red mushroom, tall as tree, Jack’s eyes widened. “I’d like to see a mushroom like that,” he said. Ella was pretty sure she heard his stomach growl.

  “Maybe we will,” said Gran, gazing thoughtfully down the forest path. “Giant mushrooms grow in the Roofed Forest. We’re nearly there. We may have our army of wolves before you know it!” Her gray eyes flashed as she quickly untied the horse.

  Ella saw the shadow cross Rowan’s face again, at the mention of that army of wolves. “We’ll need more horses too, right?” asked Rowan.

  Gran shook her head. “Just a saddle,” she said. “I’m too old to be riding bareback.” She rubbed her backside and winced.

  But Rowan wouldn’t let it go. “We should each have our own horse,” she insisted. She stared at Ella as if to say, You need to tame your own, scaredy-cat.

  Irritation bubbled up inside Ella, like a pot of mushroom stew. She stared right back. “We don’t need more horses—Gran said so. They don’t fight off mobs the way wolves do.”

  Rowan’s cheeks turned crimson. “Maybe not, but at least my horse outran those mobs.”

  Her words struck Ella’s heart like a lightning bolt. Was Rowan saying that Taiga didn’t outrun the mobs?

  Ella took a step backward and reached for a tree to steady herself. She wouldn’t believe it—and she’d never forgive Rowan for saying those words out loud.

  Gran stepped between them and held out her hands. “Girls, we have an Overworld of hostile mobs to fight,” she said sternly. “Let’s not fight among ourselves.”

  Still, Ella wouldn’t look at Rowan. Forget her, she thought sourly. I’ll pretend she drank a potion of invisibility. I’ll look after Jack and Gran instead.

  But as her eyes darted back toward Jack, she saw him looking skyward.

  She heard the snap of a branch overhead.

  And something lunged downward, straight toward Jack.

  CHAPTER 7

  In a flash, Ella grabbed her trident. But her cousin beat her to it. Rowan had her bow raised in seconds, and an arrow in place—ready to strike. Ready to take down the hostile mob that had just wound itself around Jack’s legs.

  And licked his hand.

  “Lucky!” Jack squealed, dropping to the ground beside his ocelot. “You’re alive! You found me!”

  Ella blew out the adrenaline that had just coursed through her body, and tried to ignore the envy that crept along after it.

  Jack had his cat back. His loyal cat. And Ella was happy about that—really she was! But my wolf is still out there somewhere, she thought sadly. At least I hope he is.

  Gran stepped around Lucky, checking for any injuries. “She’s alright,” said Gran. “Well done, Lucky.” She stroked the cat’s head.

  But Lucky only had eyes for Jack. She rubbed against him again and again, purring so loudly that Ella swore she could feel the ground rumbling.

  “Gran, are there ocelots in the Roofed Forest, too?” Jack asked suddenly. “Can Lucky and I gather an army of our own?”

  Rowan scoffed at that. “You can only find ocelots in the jungle, Jack.”

  Gran shrugged. “There may be some out here—you never know. Day has turned to night. The Overworld has turned upside down. So, you never know.” She winked at Jack, whose eyes lit up at the thought of taming more ocelots.

  But Rowan’s mood grew darker, Ella could tell. Was she jealous of Jack now, too, because he might gather an army of ocelots?

  As Ella climbed back onto Victory, she reached for the saddle instead of Rowan’s hand. And as they started back along the thickly wooded trail, she stayed silent. Rowan said nothing, either. Every so often, she clucked her tongue, urging Victory to go faster.

  Lulled by the rhythm of the trotting horse, Ella closed her eyes, listening for wolves. She could see more of them now in her mind. But instead of howling mournfully, they paced the forest trail, waiting.

&nb
sp; Waiting for me? she wondered. What will I do when I find them? How can I lead them without Taiga by my side?

  The only thing that took Ella’s mind off of her wolf were the huge mushrooms that had begun to appear, mixed in with the oak trees on either side of the trail. “There’s a brown one!” cried Jack. “Ooh, and a red!”

  When Ella turned to look, she caught him reaching from the back of the mare and scooping a handful of mushroom off the nearest plant. He shoved it into his mouth before Gran could see.

  “Ew, Jack! We should cook it first,” said Ella, busting him. “My sword’s enchanted with Fire Aspect, remember?”

  Jack stopped chewing. He puffed out his cheeks and spit the mushroom into a bush.

  “Gross!” cried Ella. But the thought of warm mushroom stew made her stomach clench with hunger. When had they last eaten? She couldn’t remember. Her enchanted sword could turn one of these mushroom “trees” into a roasted, smoky dinner in seconds flat.

  Gran scolded Jack, too. “Let’s spend less time wasting mushrooms and more time watching out for mobs, alright?” she said. “Keep looking up. Spiders and other mobs may drop down from the top of those giant mushrooms that are making you so hungry.”

  Ella glanced up, her appetite suddenly gone. She could barely see the top of the nearest red mushroom, let alone see if anything was on top of it. But she kept watch, knowing that Rowan had to keep her eyes on the trail ahead.

  When the trail eventually split, Victory hesitated—and Rowan did, too.

  “Take the right fork,” Gran called from behind. “Uphill, so we can get a better view.”

  Rowan shifted the rope in her hand slightly, and Victory took her cue. The path upward was steep and rocky. As they passed trees, Ella fought the urge to reach out and grab the branches for safety.

  From behind, Jack let out a squeal. “Hang on!” Gran urged him. “I won’t let you fall.”

  But as Ella slid backward in her own seat, she knew that right now, Rowan probably would let her fall. A wall of tension separated the girls. And it’s made of obsidian, thought Ella. How could Rowan have said something so awful about Taiga?

  He can outrun a spider jockey, Ella told herself. He can, and he did. I know it. No matter what Rowan says.

  When the trail finally leveled out, Ella glanced around. The trees had thinned now, and a moonlit clearing stretched before them filled with dandelions and other wildflowers. She instinctively scanned the clearing for mobs. Rowan gripped her bow tightly, too, as she led Victory across the clearing to the edge of a rocky cliff, with a river rushing below.

  From up here, Ella saw just how dense the dark forest was below. Every so often, a lake or clearing punctuated the canopy of trees. But the thick green forest seemed to stretch on for miles. “You could get lost in there,” she murmured. Like Taiga.

  “You could,” Gran agreed as her horse stepped up beside Victory.

  Rowan said nothing. Her eyes were glued to something in the forest. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

  An L-shaped cobblestone building with a brown roof rose from the forest floor, two or three stories tall. Ella could just barely count the windows—six or seven along one side of the top floor. “Is it someone’s house?” she asked.

  “It’s not a house. It’s a mansion!” cried Jack.

  “That’s right,” said Gran. “A woodland mansion!” She sounded almost as excited as Jack.

  Ella turned to face her. “Does someone live in there?”

  Gran shook her head. “Maybe a few illagers—vindicators and evokers.”

  “Huh?” asked Ella. It was as if Gran were speaking another language. What were illagers?

  Even Rowan looked confused.

  “Hostile mobs that we’ll need to contend with in the mansion,” Gran explained. “But we’ll also find shelter for the night, and maybe some chests with supplies, and hopefully . . . a saddle.”

  Her horse nickered softly, as if in agreement.

  “The mansion is just past the bend in the river,” said Gran. “We’ll follow the river until we run into it.” She studied the forest below, as if memorizing the route they would take.

  “So what are we waiting for?” asked Rowan, who seemed to have found her voice again. She turned her horse back toward the clearing.

  As they sped down the rocky trail, Ella held on tight, replaying Gran’s words in her mind. Illagers? Ella didn’t like the sound of that. It felt as if new and more hostile mobs might spring up around every bend in the trail.

  But Taiga? Ella’s wolf was nowhere to be found.

  * * *

  The mansion seemed even larger from ground than it had from up above. Ella sucked in her breath.

  It was definitely three stories tall, with windows lining every level. Torches burned brightly on either side of the front door, as if welcoming the kids for a visit. Or luring us toward danger, Ella thought suddenly. Are illagers watching us from those windows right now? She flinched and ducked her head.

  “Should we tie up the horses?” whispered Rowan.

  Gran shook her head. “They’ll be safer if we leave them untied.”

  Ella locked eyes with Rowan and saw a flicker of fear cross her cousin’s face. As mad as she’d been at Rowan for the last couple of hours, she felt a stab of compassion. Rowan had waited a long time to tame Victory. She didn’t want anything to happen to her horse.

  Just like I don’t want anything to happen to Taiga, thought Ella.

  But the moment passed as quickly as it came. Rowan stood up straight, her shoulders back. “Victory won’t run away,” she stated, patting her horse’s neck. “Right, buddy?”

  He nickered a response.

  “And my horse will stay close to Victory’s side,” Gran agreed.

  “You should name her,” Jack piped up. “You can’t just keep calling her ‘my horse.’”

  Gran smiled, but kept her eyes trained on the mansion. “We can name her later, when we’ve found a safe place to rest. C’mon, follow me,” she whispered, waving her arm.

  When she reached the cobblestone staircase leading toward the front door, she pulled her sword from her side. Ella grabbed her weapon too, choosing her trident over her sword.

  As Rowan pushed past with her bow drawn, Ella heard the clink of glass, which meant Jack was readying a potion. She turned just in time to see Lucky jump to the low roof of the first story of the mansion. The ocelot was going to keep watch on her boy from up above, if she could. And somehow, that made Ella feel a bit safer—and more brave.

  She followed Rowan through the front door without hesitating, waiting only for Jack to catch up before tiptoeing into the dark foyer. Though the bright red carpet looked clean and new, the foyer smelled dank and musty. Ella wrinkled her nose.

  Several doors led off the foyer. But instead of choosing one, Gran led them up yet another set of cobblestone stairs.

  “Why are we going up?” Ella whispered, hoping Rowan would hear—but that any illagers in the mansion wouldn’t.

  “That’s where the illagers are,” said Rowan curtly. “We fight first, and then we rest.” Her jaw was set in a firm line, reminding Ella of the photo of Rowan’s father.

  Was he always ready to fight on a moment’s notice, too? Ella wondered. She longed to turn around and go back down, away from the hostile mobs. But Jack was glued to her back, so she kept going up, up, up . . .

  . . . until they’d reached a long hallway lined with doors.

  “Which one?” Rowan whispered to Gran.

  Gran shrugged. “We won’t know until we open them,” she said. “Let’s stick together.”

  As Gran opened a door on one side of the hall, Rowan opened a door on the other. Ella stood between them. Keeping Jack safe, she decided.

  But Jack had already pulled out a glass bottle. “Potion of slowness,” he explained to Ella. “Just in case.”

  “Bedroom!” Rowan announced, stepping back from the doorway so that the others could see.

 
As Ella gazed at the three beds, covered in cozy blue bedspreads, a wave of sleepiness washed over her. She longed to run into that room and dive straight into bed—to sleep for a day, or at least until the sun rose again. From this top-story bedroom, maybe she could see and feel the sunshine streaming in the window. She yawned sleepily, until Gran pulled the door shut.

  “No resting yet,” Gran said. “We have to make sure there aren’t any illagers in the house first. We can’t sleep unless we know we’re safe.”

  I can, Ella wanted to argue. But then she caught sight of what was in the open room across the hall. “Is that an anvil?”

  An anvil meant enchantments. It meant Ella could take some of their weapons and armor and make them even stronger.

  She raced into the room without thinking, without drawing her sword. When she reached the anvil, she could tell it was broken—the slot where a weapon might go was cracked, as if someone had hit it with a pickaxe.

  Ella’s shoulders sunk with disappointment. But as she spun around to tell Gran, she came face to face with a villager in a brown jacket. He stood with his arms crossed, blocking her path.

  Ella opened her mouth to say hello, but nothing came out.

  This villager was so pale, and his nose so large—like a witch’s nose. Ella took a step backward, and ran right up against the anvil. She was trapped!

  When the villager uncrossed his arms, she saw the glint of an iron axe. Seconds later, he’d raised it above his head, ready to strike. And Gran shrieked a warning.

  “It’s a vindicator! Ella, run!”

  CHAPTER 8

  Ella ducked and hit the ground. But as she rolled away from the vindicator, he sprinted toward her, raising his axe again.

  Ella sprang to her feet and grabbed for her sword. But it slipped from her sweaty fingers and clattered to the ground. She couldn’t reach it—not in time!

  The vindicator’s axe was coming down now. It moved as if in slow motion, as if time were standing still. Ella’s last thought was of Taiga. I’m sorry, buddy, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you.

  She waited for the blow of the axe—but it never came.