The Skeleton Horse

by Maya Grace

  Gran had taken the lead on her mare, rounding the obsidian walls of the courtyard. Ella followed on Lightning. The grass all along the wall was scorched, and streaks of gunpowder smeared the obsidian where creepers had exploded. But the wall was intact, and within the courtyard, the beacon burned bright.

  “Gran!” Rowan’s voice rang out from the front gate on the other side of the house. “Golem’s still here!”

  Ella blew out a breath of relief. The iron golem had guarded their home for as long as Ella could remember. She felt Mrs. Martin relax in the saddle behind her, too.

  “Thank goodness your home is safe,” said the librarian. But her voice was tinged with sadness.

  Because her own home was destroyed, Ella remembered.

  As she helped Mrs. Martin off the horse near the front gate, Ella put on her brightest smile. “We’ll show you where the command block is,” she said. “You and Jack will be able to fix it. I know you will.”

  Mrs. Martin gazed up at the night sky. She didn’t look so sure. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured. “I really do.”

  Rowan, with her sprained ankle, was already limping inside the gate and heading toward the front door.

  “Wait!” Gran called. “Be careful!”

  But Rowan pulled open the heavy door and disappeared inside. She can never wait, thought Ella with a smile—and then a prick of nervousness. What if hostile mobs were inside, lurking in the shadows?

  As Ella hurried after her cousin, she reached for her trident. But as soon as she stepped inside the mansion, she was hit with the familiar scents of oak, dried lilac, and something sweet . . . what was it?

  Home.

  As Ella took a deep inhale, tears welled up in her eyes. Then she remembered Rowan.

  She called to her cousin as she mounted the staircase, listening for grunts, groans, hissing—any sign that Rowan was in danger. At first, Ella heard nothing but the echo of her own footsteps on the stairs.

  Then Rowan’s voice rang out from up above. “All clear! The torches are still burning.”

  Ella released the breath she’d been holding and then raced up the stairs to join her.

  * * *

  The command block was heavy as obsidian and almost impossible to move. By the time they had brought it up the basement stairs and out into the courtyard, Ella’s arms burned.

  Rowan, who was too injured to help, sat impatiently by the fishpond, supervising. “Now what?” she asked, her arms crossed.

  “Now we need a daylight sensor,” said Jack. He had his mother’s book open and lying flat on the ground. “Gran, do we have one?”

  Gran was staring directly at the beacon, something she had told Ella never to do. She pointed at the bright light. “It’s our only one,” she said in a tight voice. “It’s what turns on the beacon at night.”

  Silence fell over the courtyard. Ella finally spoke the words that she knew everyone must be thinking. “We can’t turn off the beacon. Mobs will spawn!”

  Gran nodded solemnly. “Indeed.”

  Mrs. Martin, who had been pacing the yard, suddenly stopped. “I may be able to disconnect the sensor from the beacon and use Redstone to keep it powered on.”

  Jack sucked in his breath. “Could you?”

  She shrugged. “We have to try. Jack, do you have Redstone? We’ll need some for the command block, too.”

  He nodded and raced back into the mansion. Jack always had a stash of Redstone for his potions, Ella knew. She could practically hear him clattering down the steps to his potion-brewing room in the basement.

  When Jack returned, Rowan led Mrs. Martin to the spindly vine ladder that led up toward the beacon. Her eyes widened, but she reached for the ladder. “We have to try,” she said again, under her breath.

  Rowan held the vine ladder taut while Mrs. Martin climbed. Ella saw the envy in Rowan’s eyes. She wanted to scramble right up that ladder after Sam’s mother, but her ankle wouldn’t let her.

  So instead, they waited. While Mrs. Martin tinkered with the beacon, Ella helped Jack carry more Redstone up from the basement. On their second trip, Ella led him back out into the courtyard . . .

  . . . into total darkness.

  “Gran!” Ella cried.

  A torch came to life by the garden shed. “Over here,” said Gran. “Help me light more torches!”

  “I’m trying to fix the beacon,” Mrs. Martin called from up above. “Hold on!”

  Ella lit another torch and handed it to Jack. But it wasn’t enough light! In the shadowy corner of the courtyard, a hissing mob spawned.

  “Creeper!” Ella cried.

  Taiga let loose a ferocious bark.

  And an arrow whizzed overhead.

  The arrow struck the creeper, who blew up with a bang of defeat. Gunpowder rained down over Gran’s flowers.

  “Got ‘em!” cried Rowan, who had shot the arrow from her knees. “At least I’m still good for something.”

  Ella grinned. Her cousin was always looking for her next battle. But all I’m looking for is a little light. She glanced skyward.

  When the beacon snapped back on, it nearly blinded her.

  “Yes!” cried Jack, pumping his fist. He turned to give Sam a high five.

  “It’s not over yet,” Mrs. Martin reminded them as she climbed back down the ladder—one handed. In her other hand, she held a square stone. She raised it for everyone to see. “I’ve got the sensor. Jack, it’s go time.”

  Ella held her breath as Jack and Mrs. Martin placed the daylight sensor near the command block. Then they created a spiral path of Redstone leading from one to the other, just like the picture in Jack’s mother’s book.

  As the two stepped back from their creation, Ella asked the question before Rowan could. “Now what?”

  Mrs. Martin gazed up at the moon. “Now, we wait. For high noon.”

  “Huh?” Rowan’s face fell. “That could take forever!”

  Mrs. Martin nodded. “But we need that sun. When the daylight sensor picks up direct sunlight, a signal will run down the Redstone trail to the command block. I’ve set the block to zero—for permanent daylight. Once the sun comes up, it’ll stay up. Hopefully.” She crossed her fingers.

  “Wait, permanent daylight?” Ella wondered if she’d misheard.

  Mrs. Martin shrugged. “It’s the best I can do right now,” she said. “Until Jack or I figure out a better solution.” She leaned over to muss up Jack’s hair.

  Gran shook her head in wonder. “Well, I can’t say that I understand how it works,” she said. “I just hope it does. I’ll take permanent daylight over permanent nighttime any day, won’t you, girls?”

  Ella nodded, and crossed her own fingers—and toes.

  When daylight finally came, they were settled in Gran’s cozy kitchen eating warm bread and butter. As Ella reached for another slice, she realized she hadn’t checked the clock for at least an hour.

  But when she heard the click! in the courtyard, she knew she didn’t have to.

  Blinding light poured through the windows, a sweeping swath of sunshine that warmed Ella like a hot bath. She turned toward Rowan, who for once, seemed speechless. Her mouth hung open as she limped toward the window.

  “Did we do it?” cried Jack.

  Mrs. Martin covered her hands with her mouth. “Maybe,” she whispered. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  So they waited, out in the courtyard under the magnificent sun. Lucky the ocelot stretched out on the obsidian wall, soaking up every ounce of warmth and light.

  Ella held her breath, waiting for the sun to start sliding downward, for the chill of the night sky to return.

  But it never did.

  The sunshine was here to stay.

  * * *

  “We’ll be back,” Mrs. Martin said again as they loaded up the saddlebags of the chestnut mare. Gran had given them the horse to make the journey home.

  “I thought of a name for her,” said Sam, grinning from ear to ear.

  “What
is it?” asked Ella, eager to hear.

  “Sunshine,” he said. “Because she helped us bring it back. I’ll call her Sunny for short.”

  Ella smiled. It was the perfect name. But sadness squeezed her heart. It would be hard to see Sam and his mother ride away. She suddenly felt the urge to give them something, just as Gran had given them the horse.

  “Wait here,” she cried. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.” She raced up to her bedroom, where she had hidden a precious possession: the Totem of Undying.

  Now that she was safely back at home, with the sun high in the sky above, she knew she wouldn’t need it. But Sam and his mother might. They still had a long journey ahead.

  When Ella stepped back outside, sunlight hit the golden statue. It had never looked so shiny!

  When Mrs. Martin saw it, she sucked in her breath. “Oh, no, Ella,” she said. “You keep that.”

  But Ella insisted. “You and Sam need it more.”

  When Mrs. Martin finally took it, she gazed at Ella with thoughtful eyes. “You know, your mother had one of these.”

  Excitement trickled down Ella’s spine. “Really?” She turned to Gran, whose own forehead wrinkled with surprise. “Is it here somewhere, Gran?”

  Her grandmother shook her head. “I’ve never seen it.”

  Mrs. Martin’s face spread into a slow smile. “Maybe,” she told Ella with a twinkle in her eye, “your mother used it.”

  It wasn’t until Sam and his mother were riding away that Ella understood what those words meant. If my mother used a Totem of Undying, then . . . maybe she never really died. Maybe my mother is still alive!

  The thought jolted Ella upright. The hairs prickled along the back of her neck. But if her mother were alive, why hadn’t she contacted her? Why hadn’t she come home?

  Maybe, thought Ella, she can’t.

  She had helped Sam save his mother from the zombie siege. If her own mother was still out there somewhere, could Ella save her, too?

  She gazed toward the horizon and made a promise, a whisper that raced across the plains like a wild horse.

  If you’re out there, Mama, Ella vowed, I’ll find you. I’ll save you. I promise.