Keeper of Reign

by Emma Right

  ****************************

  By the time Tst Tst and Bitha had pulled Tippy sufficiently away from the blazing house a crowd milled about the front lawn. Tst Tst couldn’t stop crying and kept blaming herself.

  “I should have carried the lanterns for Ralston, then he wouldn’t have been so slow.”

  “Crying won’t help.” Bitha didn’t sound any happier either.

  “What are we going to do now?” Tst Tst wailed.

  “If you don’t stop the ruckus, even the lanterns won’t shield us.”

  The three sisters sat under an oak tree, one of the few they’d seen nearby. It reminded them of home.

  “I wanna go home.” Tippy tugged at Bitha’s cloak, which by now stank and looked gray and had holes.

  “Stop it, Tippy. We don’t even know where home lies.”

  Tippy pointed at the stars.

  Tst Tst remembered the story of lost Elfie travelers who used the King Star to find their way. If she could find it, then she’d know where west lay, for the star always appeared on the west side of the moon. Could Tippy somehow have heard of the legend, too?

  “You see the King Star?”

  Tippy nodded and pointed to a bright twinkle.

  Bitha squinted at the night sky, too. “We don’t know if it’s the real King Star. The moon’s not out.”

  But as Tippy insisted at pointing, they kept staring at the sky until a white line zipped across, tearing the black expanse as the dazzling line ripped from the supposed King Star toward the direction away from where they stood.

  “Was that a meteor?” Tst Tst enjoyed all things science and learned more than was required. She glanced at Tippy, who tugged at her sleeve and showed her the sardius. “What? Your red gem, again?”

  Tippy said, “It’s another one, another present from the King Star.”

  Tippy shoved the red crystal at Tst Tst. “I saw it come that night. Jules ran away and I followed him, and I saw the flash from my bedroom window.”

  Tst Tst said, “What are you talking about?”

  “The present!” And Tippy shoved the crystal back into her cloak pocket.

  Bitha said, “We can’t hang around. We might as well go in that direction.

  Maybe it’s where west lies.”

  “And if we don’t hear the river that means we’re lost?”

  “You have a better solution?” Bitha asked.

  “I’m just say-ing. No need to get upset, Bitha.”

  Bitha sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that if the present must mean an important Elfie just died, as Jules said, maybe a Keeper, then which other Keeper just died? Again?”

  “There’s Saul Turpentine, and he has his daughter, Chrystle, and there’s Miranda—we don’t even know if she’s alive. Then there’s Holden and his mother, Mrs. L. Then there’s possibly Mosche….”

  And Bitha said, “And there’s us—Mom, and us, and possibly Dad because he’s married to Mom. We don’t know but there could be another fifth family.”

  Tst Tst sobbed. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  Bitha gripped her arm. “But if that’s really the present from the King Star, then the direction it took must be toward Reign.” She pointed to her right.

  “What’s the point of going home? No one’s there!”

  “We can ask Mr. Saul for help.”

  Tst Tst stopped sniffling. “Okay, let’s go toward that meteor. I don’t even know how we’re going to cross Brooke Beginning.”

  “Maybe we can find Tennesson.”

  76 - NO ESCAPE

  THE STRANGER GRIPPED the top of Jules’s cloak and pulled him backward as they both edged away from the congregation of Scorpents and their guttural, hoarse grumblings. The stranger seemed to know exactly where to maneuver both himself and Jules in the underbrush in order to avoid the cracking of twigs.

  Finally, he yanked Jules’s cloak even harder, and Jules stumbled back into a hole in the ground with rocks all about him.

  “Don’t think you’re safe yet,” the stranger whispered again into his ear.

  “They can hear even with their ears sliced off.”

  Jules often meant to ask why Gehzurolle had sliced off the ears of his servants, but for now he meant to know who his captor was. Except he couldn’t see the face. It hid behind the cowls of a hood pulled far over the stranger’s brows. The roaring in Jules’s ears grew worse, and it shook the insides of his head as if his skull was going to split into two.

  “Mind each step or you’ll fall and be dashed to pieces.” This time the stranger spoke louder.

  It was already dark before, with only the light of the stars twinkling, but now in this rocky depression in the ground, Jules had to rely on his sense of touch to ease farther down the crevice. Where were they going?

  Below them a dim light glowed. The stranger was just below Jules and appeared to wait for him at intervals. He didn’t seem worried that Jules might try to escape.

  Where would Jules escape to anyway?

  77 - DEEP, DEEP

  AS THE ROCKY tunnel widened the light coming through from somewhere below made it easier for Jules to know where next to place his foot. The slightly balding patch of the stranger’s head poked through his reddish hair, for he’d thrown his hood back. He was an Elfie, possibly a Hanfie. When the stranger stopped and looked up, Jules noticed his ebony eyes and bushy brows.

  “You want to tie this over and around your waist.” He reached upward toward Jules and handed him a thick hemp. “Double knot it or it might come loose.” He pointed to the rope about his own waist. With fumbling fingers Jules secured the rope, cinching it tightly. “Who are you?”

  “This is no tea party, boy. The Scorpents may soon find our entrance. So, follow me.”

  The stranger pushed off with his feet, expertly stepped between the openings in the crevices, and finally disappeared below Jules. Where’d he vanished to?

  “Hur—rry!” a voice echoed from below.

  When Jules slipped farther down to where the stranger sat, he realized what he’d have to do, and he gasped. A bell shaped cavern was under his feet and only air lay between him and solid ground a hundred redwood tree lengths below. This was farther than anything he’d tried before. His head spun.

  Once I follow him there won’t be any turning back. Should I try to get back up the crevice? He gazed upward. Darkness greeted his eyes. And what if a Scorpent lay waiting at the entrance?

  The figure of the stranger rappelling down made Jules’s stomach churn, but he gulped down the bitter taste in his mouth and let go of the rope in his grasp an inch at a time. At times, it helped to shut his eyes and clear his mind. The lighted, dome-shaped cavern was well lit, and for once Jules wished it wasn’t so bright.

  “I was wondering,” the stranger said, “when you’d get down.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Mosche’s the name. I trust you are Jules Blaze?”

  Jules had expected Mosche to be older with more creases on his face, maybe with wiry white hair, but this youthful looking Elfie with shoulder-length hair curled at the sides and his deep-set eyes wasn’t the picture he’d imagined. Also, the roar in his ears had lessened tremendously. He hit his temple to test his ears.

  “What’s wrong with your ears?”

  “I got water in them—there’s a constant roar, but it’s better now.”

  “The roar’s from the waterfall. But we’re deep in the mountain now and that mutes the noise somewhat. It’ll get louder once we get to my place. But you’ll get used to it. Sometimes I hardly hear it.” He guffawed as if he’d cracked a joke.

  78 - MOSCHE, FINALLY

  “SO, YOU’RE REALLY Mosche?” Jules stumbled as he hurried to keep up with the older man’s brisk pace.

  “Last I checked in the mirror. And I apologize if I startled you, but we shouldn’t dawdle with Scorpents hunting for me. They have a scout in that sack of theirs. At least that’s what I overheard. So it’s a matter of time.”

&
nbsp; “Do you know who it is? The one in the sack?”

  Mosche shrugged. “They never let him out, at least not yet. But I pity the fella.

  Scorpent style is to get rid of their helper as soon as he becomes of no help.”

  “You and your family’ve been here ages. Why would they find you now?”

  “I’m not saying he’d find me this instant. But eventually, perhaps. We still have a ways to go, so let’s talk and walk.” He must have sensed Jules’s weariness, for he said, “It’s all flat terrain from here.”

  During the brisk trudge Jules told of his grandpa and the letter.

  “I’m sorry but Leroy never came here, and I never sent him a letter.”

  Jules halted and stared at the ground. “Are you sure?” He groped about his pockets and showed Mosche the soggy letter. Some of the words had blurred due to the soaking but still, it was readable.

  “I never wrote this.”

  “Then who gave it to my grandpa?”

  “Good question. Who knew about there being five children in your household?”

  “All our neighbors. It was no secret.”

  “I certainly never knew it. Although this is good news for me.”

  “That there are five of us?”

  Mosche handed the note back. “My wife passed away and left me no heir. Which, as you know, is crucial for us Keepers, especially since only the child of a Keeper can qualify.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your wife.”

  “Not as sorry as I when it happened three years back. But maybe you or one of your siblings can take over from me when the time comes.”

  But Mosche still looked so young. Why the rush?

  “I’m not as young as I look, but youth is a side effect of studying the word in the Ancient Book, as you already know.”

  No, Jules didn’t know. “I always wondered why Keeper families only have one child.”

  “Part of the curse. Which makes me wonder why there are five of you?

  Only one condition exists for this oddity. Perhaps we should wait until my home before we talk more.”

  “But how did you find out about this ‘oddity?’” What was this one condition? Jules was sure he couldn’t take any more bad news.

  “It wasn’t easy but I pieced the information together as I was trying to find answers to my problem—how I’d have to resolve my lack of an heir.

  But tell me, why is Gehzurolle seeking you?”

  Jules took a deep breath and told about the red crystal Tippy had found.

  Mosche stayed his hand upon Jules’s shoulder. “It could very well mean your grandparents lost their lives in the Brooke. The timing of the flash and the red crystal seemed too coincidental. And where is Tippy now?”

  “With Starkies. They’re waiting for my return after I locate you and hopefully find news of our grandparents, or our mother. We have no one else to turn to. Our father’s a general with a regiment that roams about, and we haven’t received any news for ages.”

  “You mustn’t lose hope. We will find her. And Holden’s mother, too.”

  “But I don’t even know where Holden is!”

  By now they had approached a faint outline of a rectangle, as high as Jules was tall, etched in the wall. When Mosche pushed at it with both hands the rectangular slab creaked open into a large room, lit with torches secured to the walls. The room was decorated sparsely with a round table and chairs surrounding it. Once again the roaring sound vibrated in Jules’s head. He cupped his ears.

  “That’s the waterfall behind my other entry.” Mosche gestured.

  After the relative quiet of the tunnel Jules understood why he’d thought the roaring sounded from his ears. The Roaring Waterfall lived up to its name.

  One side the dining room wall was covered by a bookcase with a few books, and on the opposite side two doors led to different rooms. But all this was not what shocked Jules. Mosche, it appeared, had failed to mention an important detail, and as Jules stepped into the brightly lit room, the wavering gleam from the wall torches too bright after the dimly lit tunnels, he gaped.

  “Oh, yes.” Mosche motioned to the figures seated in the room. “My friends have been awaiting you. We spoke about such mind boggling issues I forgot about them.”

  “Jules!” It was Holden.

  And so they exchanged stories of their adventures since their last plight. Holden’s dragonfly had brought him to Miranda, who was hanging for her life as she clung to broken bark of the tree their web was attached to. And after, with the help of Fiesty, they even located Hooks. But nothing could be done for poor Hooks, who’d broken his neck in the fall.

  Jules stared glumly into space, and hung his head. I should have insisted he go home! I should have, I should have. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He’d never see Hooks again. Hooks who had been so kind, and selfless. And who’d been a true friend. Even if they’d just met, and had led such different lives, Hooks was more trustworthy than Miranda ever was.

  Mosche said, “Are you okay, Jules?”

  “You never know when you might see someone for the last time.”

  “Wisely said.”

  Jules remembered Hooks mentioning his own Elfie mother who’d died years before and how he’d hoped he might see her one day. Perhaps Hooks was even now speaking with his mother. Would he, Jules, ever see his mother, or even father, again?

  “To continue the tale,” Mosche said, as he laid four cups of steaming hot tea on the table before his guests, “the dragonflies brought Holden and Miranda to the only Elfie they’ve been working with for years—right to my doorstep, not that I have steps before my door.”

  He gestured for Jules to follow him to one of the doors on the other side of the room. “Come and see.”

  Jules locked eyes with Miranda for an instant. How’d she still have those ridiculous ear clips attached he didn’t know. He turned to follow, tea mug warming his freezing palms as he cupped the walnut. He’d glanced at the dried bread and chunky soup Mosche had set before him but his appetite had shrunk considerably since Arnett’s dream. Or maybe it was due to poor Hooks. He still didn’t want to believe it.

  “There!” Mosche pointed to the opening with the cascading waterfall acting as a drape before it. Icy sprays strayed into the room and gave it a damp feel.

  On both sides of the door stood wooden shelves filled with odd-shaped objects. As Jules peered at these, their irregular shapes almost familiar, he saw what they were. Lanterns. Wing touching wing, the lanterns were in varied sizes. Their shapes were obvious now.

  Mosche took one and presented it to Jules. “My family has been crafting these for generations since we moved to Handover. Great way to escape Scorpents. Especially needful if one lives in Handover.”

  “So you are the master craftsman they talked about, who lives in the hills of Handover?”

  79 - FORGOTTEN PROMISES

  UPON THE SHELVES stood rows and rows of dragonfly lanterns each similar to but not exactly like the replica next to it.

  “Yes. Our lantern making is about the only thing that remained constant since the time of the King. Except, perhaps why Gehzurolle’s after your family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Gehzurolle’s always hated Keepers. But now he seems more bent on annihilating us.”

  “I guess it helps that he has Elfie traitors working for him.” Jules shot a glance at Miranda, who sat quietly sipping her tea. She hadn’t acknowledged Jules one bit since he had stepped into the room. Her eyes looked glazed and her lids looked puffy.

  “That aside. Take a seat, Jules, this will unsettle you.”

  After all I’ve been through? “I seriously doubt it.” But Jules stalked to the dining chairs nonetheless and sat next to Holden and avoided looking at Miranda again.

  “Let’s start at the beginning. Before the King left he gave Eleazer a set of Books written with his blood. Books that contained all the wisdom the Elfies needed to reign over Reign. Eleazer was to ke
ep the Books safe but, worried, he himself being old and capable of dying before the King’s return, distributed these Tomes among his five children—two sons and three daughters: not unlike how you have your four siblings, Jules. To the eldest, Falstaff, he also bequeathed the King’s gift, also dubbed as Petra, and which until recently every Elfie could only guess at.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The gift was handed to Falstaff—my ancestor. But a horrible thing happened.”

  Here Miranda interrupted. “If I’m no longer a prisoner, I’d like to take my leave. I have no time for history lessons.”

  “But,” Mosche said, “Scorpents are everywhere outside. They’ll smell you out.” He tapped his nose.

  “I can handle Scorpents better than you think.”

  “Why the rush?”

  “I have reasons. You speak here of the gift, but I already know more than you think.”

  “It’s unwise to tempt fate. And what do you know of the gift?”

  “That it’s not lost, as you fear.”

  “I fear nothing but foolishness such as yours. It was foolishness that brought the curse upon our Kingdom, and only wisdom can reverse the curse we’ve been under.”

  Miranda scoffed. “I told Jules before—we need to get to my mother’s home. She has a chest and the gift lies in it.”

  “And who told you this?”

  “My sources. My mother stole it from my grandpa.”

  “Impossible. The gift has been lost for centuries.”

  “Lies are everywhere.”

  Jules interrupted. “Of course, your specialty. You should know.”

  Miranda glared at Jules, closed her eyes, and sat as still as a rock.

  Jules said, “Please, Mosche, ignore her. The gift could be related to the problems my family faced these past weeks.”

  “It is the reason Reign has been cursed these past centuries,” Mosche said. “If we don’t reclaim or find the gift, we will forever remain small. And perhaps for some it is a worthy stature, but the Book tells me I was created for bigger things. Pardon the pun.” He chuckled to himself, as if he’d said something that had amused him times before.

  Jules leaned forward. “So, if we find this gift we’ll all turn back to our size as before the curse?”

  “If we get it to the Point. But the problem lies even after we get it to the Point. How do we transport all the Elfies there? The Book says only those who look upon the gift will be transformed back to our ancestor’s former glory. That is a promise, and a warning.”

  Jules said, “A warning?”

  Mosche shrugged. “I don’t claim to have all the answers, but that’s what my Book says.”

  Holden said, “But why did Falstaff run away to Handover?”

  “Ironies of ironies, to keep the gift safe! My Book says, he ran away in the middle of the night, with the gift wrapped in his cloak. But that was not the worst of it. In his cunning he found his home behind the veil of the waterfall, and thought here he could settle as Keeper of the gift, at least until the King’s return, and since he, son of Eleazer, was a lantern crafter, and was the most skilled of the children, he figured he could escape

  Scorpents well enough with the dragonfly lanterns.

  “But his brother, Flamethrower, had secretly followed Falstaff and in a heated struggle Flamethrower fell to his doom here at the falls. But not before he’d grabbed the gift.

  “Falstaff, too, didn’t escape unscathed. In the fight, he’d hit his head and fallen onto a ledge. When he came to he remembered neither Flamethrower, the gift, nor knew what had happened except that he was soaked and lying by a waterfall ledge.

  “And he never even realized he’d shrunk to inches of what he was before: for in losing the gift, he triggered the curse. Only later did the truth come to him from others who’d suffered the fate and told him—for even Scorpents and Handoverans reduced in size. Of course, none knew Falstaff was the cause of the curse. And neither did he himself realize this for he never regained his lost memory.”

  Holden leaned toward Mosche, “So, how did you find this out?”

  Mosche said, “When my wife died I had way too much time and regret, so I buried myself in studying my Book. Flamethrower’s Book, which had shrunk and later was found. Night and day I meditated on the words.”

  “Your Book prophesied all this?” Jules asked.

  “Each Book has different prophesies. It’s the Keeper’s job to seek these out.” Mosche said.

  Holden scratched his brow. “So to reverse the curse we find the gift?”

  “And take it to the Point,” Mosche said. “The gift was the main reason why Gehzurolle has hated Elfies all these centuries.”

  Jules said, “It could still be in the waterfall. Does your Book say where in the waterfall?” Jules thought of the underground tunnel. Who’d laid those onion shaped candle lanterns? Arnett? Why?

  80 - SHATTERED HOPE

  MOSCHE SHOOK HIS head. “The gift shattered when it fell and its pieces scattered. That’s the only explanation I can come up with.”

  “What was the gift?” Jules cast a glance at Miranda to see her reaction, but her face remained impassive and her eyes flickered away from him when he looked.

  “Until recently none knew, but—” Mosche pulled his Book from a shelf behind him, dropped it on the table with a loud thunk and turned the crinkled pages. He pointed to a verse in it, and read, “‘When shattered the crystal will shatter the lives of all whom the King created.’ The King created us—Elfies, and also Handoverans, and even Scorpents.”

  “What does that mean?’ Jules asked.

  “By itself, anything. But then I paired it with another verse,” Mosche said, and he flipped the leaves of the Ancient Book. “With his crown shattered the King could not return.”

  “A crown? A crystal crown? Why didn’t other Keepers put the puzzle together before?”

  “Keepers like yourselves who never studied your Books?”

  “Well, you did it easily enough.”

  When Mosche slammed the Book shut even Miranda drew in her breath sharply.

  “You have no idea the hours I’ve poured into finding this gem of information. ou forget no one knew what to look for—Eleazer died instantly of a broken heart when he discovered his two sons missing, and the gift beside. All was considered lost. When Eleazer died, even before everyone shrank, the mystery of the gift died with him. No one but he and his two sons knew of the gift’s existence. He hadn’t even trusted his daughters, nor his wife, enough to tell them.

  “No, young Jules, my ancestors and yours never thought to put two unrelated verses together as part of the same context. And I wouldn’t have, too. Except I overheard of Gehzurolle seeking a red crystal and recalled a red crystal mentioned before in another section. Here.” He flipped the pages again and the rustle of the paper-thin sheets seemed louder even than the waterfall’s roaring. Mosche’s guests waited.

  He read, “‘For the Lord of Shadows collects crystals: red, blue, green and purple, to spite the King.’ So I asked myself, why would crystals matter so much?”

  Jules said, “Tippy’s red crystal!”

  “Excuse me,” Miranda cleared her throat. “Could this prisoner use the restroom?”

  Everyone turned to her, and Mosche nodded to the door by the room with the lanterns. “In there.” She stretched her legs and walked to the door.

  “Not that one, the other.” Mosche pointed to the opening next to the lantern room.

  Mosche said, “I’d remembered reading about the King Star giving off crystals of different colors when a Keeper passed away. The crown was crystal. Is that a coincidence, or does it mean something more significant?”

  Holden said, “Is Gehzurolle collecting the crystals to make his own crown?”

  “That I cannot confirm. But if we can get all the Keepers together with our Books, we would be able to fit more pieces together and maybe even locate the crown. For I believe each
book holds a portion of the answer.”

  Jules said, “That may be the reason Gehzurolle is doing the same. He already has my mother, and Mrs. L. Maybe he has Saul, too. Miranda said Saul doesn’t have his Book, although I could’ve sworn he was reading it in his home.”

  Holden nodded.

  “It could very well be that Miranda’s mother stole the Book, and that’s what kept her alive in Handover. And it could explain Saul’s refusal to accompany you here. Without his Book, a sworn Keeper is an easy target for Gehzurolle’s forces in Handover.”

  Was that why his grandpa died? Because he left Reign without the protection of his Book? And who wrote that note urging Grandpa to leave?

  Jules felt his pockets and brought the soggy papers out. He straightened the crumpled map Saul had drawn and gave it to Mosche.

  “Saul seemed to know where you might be hiding. Look. It’s not precise but accurate enough.”

  Mosche stood and walked to the lantern room where the light was brighter. Standing by the door, Mosche stared at the rough map. “It was no secret that Falstaff lived at the waterfalls. But this is curious that Saul knew which one—he must have his ears tuned to the whispers of Handover. But something more disturbing has occurred.”

  “What?” Holden and Jules both said.

  Mosche pointed to Saul’s scribbling. “Notice the lettering? Looks like the writing of that note you said I wrote.”

  Jules had thought the writing on his grandpa’s letter looked familiar, but realized now the capital letters “Ds” and “Ps” on both documents were identical. “Saul wanted my grandpa to find you! But I can’t believe he’d want Grandpa harmed by sending him to Handover—they were buddies.”

  “It was strange that Leroy left during a bad storm. Seemed almost unwise. Unless he was urged. Tricked by someone he trusted. A friend?”

  Jules sighed. “What should we do?”

  “With my dragonfly lanterns we can sneak among the Scorpents to seek further news.” He walked into the lantern room but halted. He turned back to face the boys, his expression grave. “It appears two of my lanterns are missing.”

  81 - INHERITANCE

  “MIRANDA!” JULES SHOT to his feet and rushed to the door that led to the restroom area. “I wondered why she took so long.” But searched as they did, Miranda remained missing.

  “She was in a hurry,” Mosche said.

  Holden kept pushing his thumb into the bridge of his nose. “I hope it’s not to help the Scorpents find us.”

  “She wouldn’t have taken the lanterns if that be the case,” Mosche said.

  Jules slammed his fist on the doorpost. “She’s gone to the cottage she mentioned before—where she thinks her mother lived—in Glennora or something.”

  Holden said, “Should we run after her?”

  Mosche said, “She might not have gone far.”

  Holden jerked his chin at the opening at the end of the lantern room, with only the waterfall acting as a curtain to the outside world. “She left by the entrance we came in. The one by the waterfall. If she loses her footing on that slippery ledge she’d—shouldn’t we stop her?” He rushed to the open doorway and peered out, sprays from the waterfall striking his face and clothes.

  Jules shook his head. “But what about our mothers? And Ralston and the girls? And we need Mosche to hide.”

  “I’ve hidden all my life, and I intend to change that.”

  Jules said, “But there’s one more thing you promised to explain.”

  Mosche strode back to his dining table and patted the surface for Jules, gesturing for him to come over. “Yes, your family. Perhaps you’d better sit for this one.”

  What could shock Jules further? “So, why are there five children in the Blaze household?”

  “Historical fact shows Keepers to possess only one heir. And this has been true except on one condition—when two Keepers marry. When that occurs the Book says that the couple will be blessed with five—the number of the King’s grace.”

  “That may be so, but only my mother is heir to a Book. My father comes from a line of soldiers.”

  “Remember Flamethrower? His son, Cedric, took over as his heir, but even so Flamethrower never swore Cedric in before he fell to his death. In fact, before Flamethrower secretly followed Falstaff, he hid his Book, so Cedric never found it. To save his family from being a ‘Bookless’ target of Gehzurolle, Cedric changed his last name.”

  Holden said, “So no one knows where that fifth Book is?”

  “Or who that fifth Keeper was. Only that the fifth Book was hidden among the King’s other books in the King’s library. But today, even the library is lost.”

  Jules leaned forward, eyes wide. “So what did Cedric change his name to?”

  “To still honor his father, he changed the family name from Flamethrower to Blaze.”

  “Blaze?” Holden and Jules said together.

  Jules said, “So the library was an inheritance.”

  “The family passed the entire library to Cedric to make up for the loss that was not really his fault. But still, without his Book, Cedric was technically not a Keeper, so he removed himself from the circle of Keepers and, as you know these days, Keepers tend to live by themselves. Pity.”

  Jules slumped into his chair. “That explains the secret library in our cellar.”

  Holden gaped at Jules.

  Mosche said, “In your cellar? That must be the inheritance Cedric received as Keeper since he never found his Book.”

  “So, is my father safe without his Book?”

  “As long as he remains in Reign.”

  As General of the Elfie army his father, Jon Blaze, tended to protect the borders that were most attacked by Handoverans hoping to gain foothold into Reign. But still, didn’t the three Hanfies who stole his lanterns say an Elfie regiment had broken into Handover? That the Elfie camp was destroyed by fire? Had another crystal fallen from the King Star he hadn’t known about? A shiver ran up his spine. How could he even hope to find his father to warn him of this fate? He wrapped his fingers about his temples and dropped his head farther into his palms.

  Then an idea hit him.

  “Mosche, if we look into your Book it might say where my dad might be, or even what we should do. I can’t imagine where we could start to solve our troubles. My troubles.” How could he find anybody at this rate?

  How could he return to his siblings without his mother, or his grandparents?

  Mosche opened the Book again and peered at the words, eyes squinting.

  “The Book has never lacked wisdom, that’s for sure.”

  After some moments of argument, Mosche read a verse they all finally agreed upon. “Be a light to the darkness and a help to the helpless.”

  Jules agreed. “What about that prisoner in the sack? We can sneak up on the Scorpents and even if he’s of no particular help at least we’d have done some good.”

  Holden said, “But what if he’s a spy, or a Handoveran who doesn’t like Elfies? He might spiel on us. Just because the Scorpents have him doesn’t mean he’s pro-Elfies.”

  Jules shook his head. “You forget our lanterns? If he’s Handoveran and against us the lantern will keep us invisible.”

  “But what if he’s an Elfie traitor?” Holden sounded defeated.

  Jules shot him a glare.

  Holden said, “I’m in—let’s get him out.”

  They agreed to rest till daylight, for Scorpents are known to be most active in the night, but lethargic in the sunlight. This would avoid a Scorpent confrontation in case the lantern didn’t shield the escaping prisoner, for he could very well be a Handoveran.

  Once early light dawned, they returned to the Scorpent camp via the slippery ledge of the waterfall and Jules wondered if Miranda was already making her way undetected to her mother’s cottage. He wished her well even though thoughts of her left a bitter taste in his mouth. A traitor to the end!

  82 - GLASS TWINE

  ALL WAS STILL at the Scorp
ent camp and the early light of dawn ained down upon the lumps of Scorpents interspersed here and there.

  Shrill breathing that ebbed and flowed like the rhythm of the waves pierced the constant roar of the waterfalls.

  At least I don’t have to worry if I sneezed.

  “Where was the sack with the prisoner?” Holden whispered into Jules’s ear.

  They crawled on cut elbows and scraped knees to get closer. Some Scorpents slept around a bonfire they’d created in a clearing, where swaying grasses in the background bended back and forth with the gentle breeze.

  “My bet is,” Mosche said, not bothering to whisper now, “they’ve buried him.”

  “Alive?” Jules said.

  “Hopefully—if they still have use for him. And seeing that they haven’t found my place that’s what’s going for him. Unless they’ve given up on him being of any use.”

  Jules pointed. “Look at that pile of leaves there—could be a possible site they’d hid him under.”

  They crawled to the leaf mound behind a group of three snoring Scorpents. When Jules shoved his arm into the leaves his hand hit a burlap sack, rough in texture and hard as if housing something. He groped it and it shifted.

  “Someone’s definitely in there,” Jules whispered.

  The sack lay in a ditch scooped out and carelessly covered back again with leaves. He parted the leaves to make a tunnel for Mosche to poke his head into. Mosche reached in and loosed the tie at the top of the sack.

  “Be still,” Mosche said to the sack’s opening as the sack wobbled.

  “Help!” The voice from the sack was rough and weak. “Water….”

  The Scorpents must have tried their dehydration tactics on the prisoner.

  “We will free you—but promise to be quiet.”

  “Yes!”

  One of the Scorpent guards stirred in his sleep and stopped snoring.

  He shifted about as if seeking for a comfortable position and grunted. The knot was a work of intricacy. Mosche ceased the untying. He motioned to Jules to give it a try.

  For having bulbous looking fingers Jules was impressed, and annoyed, by the Scorpent skills of such delicate magnitude. It was almost impossible to untie.

  “Use my blade.” Holden offered his dagger to Jules who now tugged at the loosened tie and sawed at it. Holden had won the dagger at the local wood-cutting competition months ago.

  “Hurry!” Holden whispered.

  Somewhere in the forest behind them feet scampered about and Jules drew in a sharp breath. “This thing won’t cut!”

  “I didn’t think it would, but I was hoping,” Mosche said. “Glass twines. Only a diamond edge can cut through these.”

  “How do they undo this?” Jules gestured with his chin at the sleeping Scorpents.

  “They use their hooked claws. Something we sorely need now.”

  Mosche continued tugging at the twine, careful not to cut his fingers on the glass coating.

  83 - DIAMOND-TIPPED CLAWS

  JULES WONDERED ABOUT his friend, Hooks, and how he’d broken his neck. If only he’d listened to Miranda that one time. They would have been on the dragonflies when the bridge fell. Mosche didn’t think it was an accident. Some force had worked to break that tree limb so that web bridge would fall.

  “Holden,” Jules said, “hand me your dagger. I have an idea.”

  Jules took the blade handle and gestured with it to Holden. “Cover me with the light.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Just make sure you shine it bright.” Jules crept up to the Scorpent guard lying on his side, arms flailed above his head. With the blade he sawed at a hooked nail on the guard’s forefinger. It twitched as he sawed it.

  “You’re going to wake him,” Holden said.

  Jules turned, glared at his friend and placed his finger on his lips.

  The Scorpent’s hand quivered and his fingers opened and closed as if his palm itched. Jules and Holden locked eyes and they stared at the other two guards to the left of their victim. One of them sat up on his haunches and rubbed his eyes. The beady eyes behind hooded scales turned toward Jules and Holden and blinked three lids, one closing after another, then opening again each successive lid wider than the one closest to the eyeball.

  Jules had never seen such dead eyes, bereft of feelings, of hope, of love; filled only with hate and suspicion.

  Could he feel pity for these creatures of the night, servants of evil who pledged their allegiance to their master, Gehzurolle? Jules held himself still and dared not even breathe. Would the Scorpent smell him? Already it lifted up its nose as if sniffing the day. It swiveled its head, its thick neck the same width as its head, toward the pile of leaves. Mosche must have hidden himself in the leaves for a glow appeared under one side of the mound.

  The awoken Scorpent shifted his weight toward its chum having the manicure. It leaned toward its chum’s face and peered at its chum’s mouth, a gaping hole, four fang-like teeth on its upper jaw. Did it notice the dangling claw on that twitching forefinger? Seconds stretched to minutes, and it seemed like hours for Jules.

  After blinking some more, the Scorpent turned to face its sleeping companion on the other side and slumped down on its back and closed its triple lidded eyes.

  Sunlight bearing down through the sparse canopy above made the cutting job more tedious than it should have been. They must have been at this for awhile. Sweat streamed down Jules’s temples, particularly since the dragonfly lanterns also produced significant heat. He worked fast and furious until two claws were sawed off. Hard as iron rods, and curled at one end, Jules thought the curved claws would make great fishing hooks. They bore some similarities to the fishhooks his friend Hooks had borne with him. Could Hooks have killed Scorpents, or at least collected their claws, somehow?

  Mosche grinned at the boys when Jules handed one claw to him. “I almost suffocated under these leaves.”

  “How’s the prisoner?”

  “Not a squeak. We better hurry though—he was already dehydrated, and we didn’t bring water.”

  With amazing nimbleness, Mosche hooked and unhooked the glass twine knot, maneuvering it so the knot slowly unraveled. Jules carefully wound the portion of twine already loosened so the glass would not slice Mosche’s fingers. When the knot came undone, and the sack opened, they slowly let the huddled figure out, which was when Jules stepped back and gasped.

  “You’re one of the thieves,” Jules cried.

  Holden prodded the Hanfie’s shoulder. “Why are you here?”

  “Having a party,” the Hanfie thief Aloof said, as his knees buckled and he slumped to the ground next to Jules’s feet.

  Mosche hushed them. “Regardless of what he did we must help him.”

  Jules said, “We did that before and he ran off with our lanterns.”

  “It’s not how you think,” Aloof said, softly.

  Mosche instructed Jules and Holden to gather twigs and stuff these into the sack. Deftly, Mosche re-tied the twine, of course not with the same tightness as the Scorpents did. But still they thought this sufficient to buy time for when the Scorpents awoke, closer to evening. “Save the greetings for later,” he warned when the boys tried to get Aloof to explain himself.

  Before they left the Scorpent camp, Jules tugged at Mosche’s cloak. “I noticed they have more of that glass twine next to the guards.”

  “So?”

  “We should take it.”

  “It’ll shred you.”

  “Not if I wrap it up.”

  “They could awaken any moment. We need to hustle out of here.”

  But Jules said, “It’ll just take a moment.” And quickly he left and managed to slide the coil of glass twine out of the burlap sack next to the guard.

  But something else slid out with it. Jules held the pouch in his palm and gazed at it long. His pouch!

  84 - CONFESSION

  HOW DID THE Scorpents come upon his pouch of stones? They must have met up with Starkies,
which meant his younger siblings could be in danger. Jules felt like kicking himself for leaving them. But the alternative had seemed worse, and when he thought of Hooks he felt he must have done right leaving them. He pocketed the pouch and resolved to look at its contents when they reached Mosche’s home.

  Lumbering, Holden and Jules, on both sides of Aloof, transported the Hanfie toward Mosche’s. But leading him across the slick ledge of the entrance was a near impossibility. Aloof was barely conscious during some of the way. Jules had a good mind to shove him to a watery grave.

  “We can’t take him the other way, either.” Mosche scratched his temple.

  The thundering waterfalls roared in their ears. Strange how even the roar of the falls didn’t seem so thunderous now that Jules was used to it They slumped Aloof to the ground. What to do next?

  “Leave me,” Aloof said.

  “He’s delirious,” Jules said.

  Aloof stretched his arm. “I’m not. They have your brother.”

  “Who?”

  “Those Scorpents.”

  “Ralston?”

  “You have another one?” Aloof reached for Jules’s cloak and drew him close. “They were taking us to the Keepers. They think your brother knows where the Book is.”

  “An Ancient Book?”

  He coughed. “I don’t know. They want me to kill your brother once we find the Book. Scorpents can’t kill Elfies in Reign, remember?”

  Scorpents were not supposed to kill Elfies directly, especially Keeper descendants, and especially not in Reign. Only agents of Gehzurolle who could summon the elements of the air or nature or other creatures could directly murder a Fairy Elf. At least that was what the Book said.

  Jules bent over Aloof’s face. “Where’s my mother?”

  “I swear I don’t know. And I couldn’t stop Alvin from stealing the lanterns. I was shot, too weak, remember?”

  “Did you see Ralston?”

  “Just a glimpse—I heard yelling.”

  “How about the girls?”

  “The Scorpents burned the house, burned Starkies.”

  “Burned Starkies? What about my sisters? Did they escape?”

  Mosche stayed Jules from shaking Aloof. “We need to stay quiet, boy.”

  Jules got up and beckoned to Holden. “I’m going to find Ralston.”

  “Wait,” Mosche said. “Aloof’s too weak. We’ll hide him under leaves and come help you.”

  They crept back to the Scorpent camp even as the day waned. Things were taking longer than expected. What happened to Bitha, Tst Tst and Tippy? Jules’s stomach churned and knotted. Under which pile of leaves had the Scorpents hid Ralston? He realized that the first sack he’d seen wiggled vigorously. There was no way Aloof could have had the energy to move so.

  “I saw that wiggly sack back there.” He pointed for Saul.

  “If we hurry we can do it.”

  “I have a confession,” Jules said.

  Both Mosche and Holden stared at him.

  “What?”

  “I tied up the three guards by Aloof. So when they awake they’d know, at least that someone pulled that on them.”

  Mosche smacked his forehead. “They’d think it was me, and look even harder to find my home.”

  “I’m sorry. It just took me a minute, and they deserved worse.”

  Mosche glared at him. “Water under the bridge, I suppose.” But he still shook his head at Jules. “Scorpents hate each others’ company, so they’d only sleep close together for a reason.”

  “Like guarding someone?”

  Mosche nodded.

  Jules jerked with his chin. “How about those three huddled under that oak.”

  “Good eyes,” Mosche said. “But there’s another threesome to my left, too.”

  “Let’s try mine, first. Holden, where’s that hook you used?”

  After making their way to the huddled three, they found a mound covered with leaves with a burlap sack within. They proceeded to undo the twine as they’d done for Aloof.

  “Piece of cupcake,” Holden whispered, when he’d sawed through the last knot with the hook. Mosche had explained that the tips of Scorpent nails were dipped in liquid diamond and can tear open practically any material.

  “Works better than my dagger.”

  “Hey!” A voice behind Jules startled him. He swiveled and came face to face with a woman with a strangely familiar face. “Shh!” she said and nodded to Holden and Mosche as well.

  Clearly she was an Elfie, petite with a strong profile, and the bluest eyes. But who was she?

  85 - THE SWITCH

  WHERE HAVE I seen her before? Jules wondered. But she answered before he posed the question.

  “I’m Chrystle—Saul’s daughter. Shh! I’m here to help.”

  “How do we know you speak the truth?”

  She rummaged and shoved a stone in Jules’s hand. “From Tippy. She said to be sure you bring it back to her. Personally. Oh, and Tst Tst said, ‘XYZ’. Got it?”

  Jules opened his mouth, but someone tapped him on his shoulder and he turned to face Tennesson. They hugged quickly.

  “Tell me how my sisters are.”

  “Your sisters are safe. But they have Ralston.” He jerked his chin at the Scorpents.

  Jules stared at the red gem in his palm and felt its smooth coolness within his fingers. This could be the token to confirm Grandpa’s death. He put the sardius to his lips and then pocketed it. But before he could ask more someone spoke from the now wobbling sack.

  “Who’s there?” The person’s muffled voice came through the thick burlap weave.

  “Ralston!” Jules said as he opened the mouth of the sack.

  “Jules!” Ralston cried a little too loudly.

  One of the slumbering guards yawned loudly and sat up.

  Jules clapped his hand over Ralston’s mouth. Into his brother’s ear he said, “Quiet.”

  Ralston, eyes wide, shook his head. “I’m sorry about the girls.” He mumbled as his eyes strayed toward the sleeping guards.

  Jules said, “We’ll explain later.” He turned to Chrystle, but she brought her finger to her lips. “Ralston, leave your cloak in the sack so they think you’re in there.”

  Jules shrugged his cloak off his shoulders and offered it to Ralston.

  “Here, give me yours. I’m taking your place.” With Ralston’s cloak on, for they were the same size, Jules made to get into the sack.

  Ralston said, “No! What are you doing?”

  “They’re going to take you to Mom. I intend to get there—it’s the only way I can save them.”

  Ralston held onto Jules’s arm. “No!”

  “Mosche, take him away, quick. Ralston, the girls are safe.”

  Mosche said, “Are you sure you want to do this?” He handed Jules two lanterns.

  Jules nodded. And to Holden he said, “Keep my sisters safe, or I’ll come after you.”

  Chrystle helped Jules into the sack. “Your sisters came back to Tene’s place and we’ve hidden them. But before I go, tell me, where’s Miranda? I felt sure these Scorpents had her.”

  Jules stared into her blue eyes so much like Miranda’s and swallowed a lump. “Ask Mosche. He’ll tell you. Get away before they awake.” He jerked his chin at the Scorpents. Dusk was already there.

  Chrystle’s gaze flitted to the sleeping Scorpents, as if she hoped to see Miranda nearby, then she started to secure the top of the sack. “Be careful— especially if you see my father. Don’t trust him.”

  Jules said, “I know. And tell Tippy I’ll keep her gem safe.”

  And they said good-bye after they cinched the top tightly with the glass twine.

  Alone, quietly, Jules said, “Goodbye,” to no one in particular.

  86 - FLAMETHROWER’S BOOK

  HOW LONG THEY must have traveled Jules couldn’t tell. The Scorpents opened the top twice and dropped bread rolls hard as stones both times, and a satchel of water once. They must have not suspected anything alth
ough Jules had heard the ruckus caused due to the Scorpents he had tied together with the glass twine.

  Afterward, when they found the sack with Aloof filled with brush, they had even punched Jules’s sack and he balled up in pain in the crammed quarters even though he was already bunched up. He was just glad they didn’t hit his lanterns; they were his only hope for escape. He did his best to protect the lanterns from damage.

  The Scorpents carried him on swift feet and he imagined he must be on a shoulder, although sometimes they dragged him and jagged stones bruised him here and there. For the most part it seemed like they wanted him alive. No doubt to find the Book for them. He guessed it must be his father’s Book. Flamethrower’s long-lost Book. How they were going to cross Brooke Beginning he had no idea, although soon enough he felt his sack heaved onto the back of some insect, its bristles poking into the sack in some parts, and cutting his legs.

  Once airborne, the wind currents pierced through even the thick waft of the burlap sack and sent a chill through his bones for it must already be the end of fall, and soon winter would come upon them. With the diamond tipped claw he’d stolen he made a hole in the sack. A river wound below them, dark like a stream of black ink amidst the verdant tops of trees. It was late in the day, or maybe it was early in the morning. Jules couldn’t tell. He dozed on and off and didn’t know day from night in the sack or how much time passed. They were going to Reign, he was sure. But where or when would they descend?

  He planned for his next steps, and wondered about his father’s Ancient Book. Where was it? When Flamethrower left he had not known he was never to return. He must have hidden it in the library amidst the King’s other books. But which ones? It would be too numerous to go through each title and surely his Blaze ancestors must have already scoured through everything ages ago. Who knows, maybe they’d even taken all the books down although it would take some feat given the largeness of some of the tomes compared to the Elfies’ shrunk size.

  The books were filed alphabetically, so neatly, as though the original librarian had kept the order and no one had disturbed this. But what if Grandpa had stumbled upon it? Surely he must want Jules or his mother to know, or at least have an inkling to its whereabouts.

  The next time Jules peeped out the hole in the sack the entire world had darkened. Black cone shapes took form in the distance. Conifers?

  Redwoods? He must have shifted about too much as he peeked for next thing he knew the Scorpent rider grunted something foul and thumped him on his head, hard. So hard, Jules lost consciousness.

  87 - WHERE WAS MIRANDA?

  RALSTON WAS SURE he’d lost half his weight, so when Mosche offered him a dinner of poached quail eggs and a buttery cream sauce served on a large dinner plate with tiny blue flowers, Ralston ate as though he was preparing for a yearlong fast.

  Chrystle told him of how his sisters had stumbled upon a squirrel and having little option had ridden on it. It brought them to Abel’s drey for it appeared that Abel was a King to them. He’d fed them and bundled them off to Tennesson, and they’d arrived not too soon, for Tennesson was about to leave with Chrystle to search for Miranda.

  Once Mosche updated Chrystle on Miranda, she felt sure she could find her daughter in Glennora. The plan was to convince Miranda to return with Chrystle to Reign, and Tennesson would take Ralston and Holden to the girls. If things went as planned, they would meet at Tennesson’s and Chrystle would take them back to Reign.

  Ralston couldn’t understand the fuss about a Hanfie they’d hidden in the leaves and had disappeared.

  “He’s Aloof—the same Hanfie,” Holden explained, “who stole from Jules. Question is, where is he? He’s gone! And where are his two cronies?

  What if he leads them to Mosche?”

  Ralston said, “The three Hanfies brought the Scorpents to Starkies.

  When we saw the lanterns they brought, the girls and I suspected Jules must be in trouble and we planned our escape.”

  In any case, Tennesson would take Ralston and Holden back to his home to meet the girls, and then he’d show them the way back to Reign. Of course they would get there days after Jules, provided the Scorpents took him straight to Reign.

  “I know where the kids can cross the Brooke.” Tennesson turned to his wife and smiled. “Chrystle used to commute back and forth to Reign by a secret course to conduct her trade. It’s a safe route up in the trees. I call it the treetop highway, so there’re no mines or traps to be concerned with.

  The route leads to the Big Rock where the Brooke runs the smoothest, and we will use the hidden pulley to get down. I’ll accompany them to the edge of the River, where the boulders span across.”

  Chrystle insisted she’d get to Glennora safely on her own to find Miranda. She told Ralston and Holden, “Once you’re in Reign, follow the river south until you get to the area near my dad’s place. You’ll see the weeping willow half submerged in water there.”

  Holden said, “That should be easy. And I can find my way to the tunnel we fell into near my place. It’ll be a safe hiding spot.”

  “Just,” Chrystle said, “be careful my dad doesn’t spot you. The lanterns will hide you from the Scorpents, but not from Saul.”

  Both Holden and Ralston nodded vigorously.

  Tennesson hugged Chrystle before they left, and said, “Mosche, you take care that Hanfie doesn’t follow you back here.” His eyes roamed to the room with the lanterns. “Pity we can’t carry more of the lanterns to Reign.”

  Mosche said, “Everything in its time.” He turned to Chrystle. “Come by with Miranda on your way back and we can proceed.”

  88 - SCREAMING

  WHEN JULES REGAINED consciousness, he found his hands bound behind his back, but he was still in the same sack since he could feel with his feet that the lanterns still lay under his calves. The Scorpents must not have seen them and, better still, they hadn’t realized that he had switched places with Ralston. That’s what happened to those who relied only on their sense of smell.

  But even as he thought about scents he detected a strange odor.

  Something was burning. In fact, the crackling of twigs or leaves being burnt became apparent. Were they trying to burn him?

  Jules sat up and struggled in the sack until his hand reached his pocket with the mirror shard. Careful not to slice his fingers, he retrieved it from its velvet wrap and sawed at the twine that bound him, for these were the ordinary hemp sort and not the glass twine used to secure the sacks.

  Once loosed of the bindings, Jules cut at the hole he’d begun at the bottom of the sack. The crackling of the twigs sounded louder, and worse, someone was screaming.

  Who were they trying to burn alive? Could it be his mom, or Mrs. L?

  Jules worked with more vigor, attacking the hole with the diamond tipped Scorpent nail since it was sharper than the shard, which he’d pocketed.

  “No—oo!” It was definitely a female voice. And it was definitely familiar. But the pitch was too high to determine who it was. Was it his mother?

  Jules’s eyes scoured the dark forest when he’d freed himself from the sack. Night again! Between the underbrush ahead, the flames from the fire burning orange brightened the area. He threw one lantern down, and turned the other on. Lantern swinging from his left hand, he half-stumbled, half-ran toward the flames.

  Would Saul see him with the lantern if he went close to the victim to save her?

  Saul must not be around, or at least Jules couldn’t imagine that Saul would watch this horror, for who’d bear to sit and witness a fellow Elfie being burned at the stake?

  “No—oo!” The voice again.

  Jules took another step, but something crunched beneath his booted foot. He picked up the object: it was about the size of his pinky, made of metal, with intricate floral design etched on it. Miranda’s ear clip!

  The wail continued, more frenzied than before. “Ahhh!” Definitely Miranda.

  Through the gaps in the brush, Jules saw her. Miranda,
the traitor. The one who sold his mother to the Scorpents. He watched, transfixed.

  The flames crackled, flickered, like tongues. They licked more and more of the twigs and brush surrounding her. Miranda wriggled and thrust her head back and forth, obviously trying to free herself from the rope that bound her to the stake. A few Scorpents mingled about, not even bothering to look at her, as if burning Elfies was a normal practice. And maybe it was to them.

  The flames devoured with ardor from the outside in, like a circle closing in on Miranda, and she screamed and sobbed on and off.

  How had she gotten caught? Why wasn’t she in Glennora? And why hadn’t the lanterns she’d taken from Mosche hidden her from the Scorpents?

  With Miranda, Jules just never knew where she stood. One minute she would be off to find a crown in a chest but supposedly smashed to smithereens and lost for centuries; next, she would be patronizing with Scorpents, although she obviously wasn’t on friendly terms with them now.

  To run into the flames would be tantamount to suicide, for surely the fire would kill him before he got to her. An open burlap sack, similar to the one they’d transported him in, lay crumpled nearby. Was she caught and then taken prisoner in that? A lantern in one hand, he draped the burlap sack upon his shoulders and darted into the flames. If the Scorpents had seen a walking burlap sack it must have not registered, for they went on their business with loud grunts and mocking.

  The smoke rose thick around Miranda, and she must have passed out, for her body remained still and slumped to one side. Jules was surprised the flames were still some feet away. In typical Scorpent style the best way to kill was to take the utmost advantage of torture first. With one upward jerk of the hook on the hemp twine securing Miranda to the stake, Jules freed her.

  Her limp body almost slid to the ground, but he caught her and slung her over his shoulder. The smoke rose thick and black about him, and he coughed uncontrollably, and so loudly he was sure the Scorpents heard him.

  But then again the crackling of the fire rose almost deafeningly about him, and the Scorpents’ garrulous laughter was enough to mask any coughs.

  Sweat poured down his temple, and he wiped at his stinging eyes. With the sack draped over her body across his shoulders and his head, and one hand

  still clinging onto his lantern, he dashed into a section with the tamest flames. As he broke through the fire and leaped across the last of the ashen ground, Jules stumbled and Miranda fell with a heavy thud next to him.

  When Jules pulled her arm toward him, her limb felt strangely cold after the heat of the flames. Even in the dim lighting of the lantern he saw that her lips, cracked, held a bluish tinge.

  “Miranda, wake up!” he whispered. He shook her shoulder. Was he too late? He slapped her cheeks.

  89 - SHIELD

  WHEN HE GLANCED up he noticed that four or five Scorpents surrounded him and Miranda. Their broad faces bore down at Jules even as he clutched Miranda’s arm, but their eyes seemed vacant, as if they were looking right through him.

  The lantern!

  Jules brought the lantern closer and waited. Could they hear him breathe?

  One of the Scorpents bent his head toward Jules and stretched out his arm as if to touch him. Jules flinched. The large hands with the spoon-like fingertips and diamond-tipped nails reached past Jules and snagged the burlap sack by his side.

  The Scorpent tossed the sack to his mate standing beside him, and they dispersed with a garish laughter.

  Though the fire hadn’t burnt them, Jules noticed blisters on his arm, and he smelled of singed hair. That and fumes from the burning pyre itself must have confused the Scorpent sense of smell. Regardless, it wasn’t the time to speculate. If Whisperer or Rage showed up, would they see Jules and Miranda? Or smell them? And what about Saul? Was he around? Did he allow Miranda to be burnt?

  Once Jules managed to hide Miranda behind a rock, he patted her cheek, this time gently, to revive her. Her eyelids fluttered. She coughed a few times.

  Jules stared into her sky-blue eyes as they opened. “I’m sorry I don’t have water to offer you,” he said, holding her hand. Her wrists were bruised and cut.

  She shook her head vigorously a few times, pulled her hand away from Jules and covered her face with both of them. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault you got caught.”

  Her voice was muffled, but Jules still made out her words. “I didn’t get caught.”

  Jules crinkled his eyebrows involuntarily.

  She said, “I gave myself up.”

  “But why?”

  Miranda sighed and stared into space. “Because I wanted them to take me to your mom. I overheard they were going to get her, and I thought I’d prove myself to you by saving her. Then you’d know for sure I’d changed and I was telling the truth about the chest.”

  Jules locked eyes with her.

  “I told them I could take them to your dad’s Book. I thought they’d just let me ride like one of them, but they must already know where your dad’s Book is, or maybe they already have their hands on it, since they didn’t think I was worth anything. And I almost died for nothing.”

  “Not for nothing.” He reached for her hand and pulled her up. “Great minds think alike.”

  Jules told her his reasons for switching places with Ralston. “C’mon, we still have work. My mom always said, ‘A Keeper’s work is never done.’ I wondered how the Scorpents were able to stake you like that. That was brave of you to offer yourself for my mom.”

  “I forgot about them having the right to kill me if I offered myself.”

  Before long a raucous fight broke out among the Scorpents and the branches swayed as if a hurricane played havoc with the trees. Jules held Miranda by her shoulders, and they slid farther into the crevice between the rock and the hard earth.

  “What’s happening?” Miranda said.

  “I heard Gehzurolle’s paying a visit to Reign.” He shrugged. “We’d better hide. Do you know where we’re at?”

  90 - SINISTER MEETING

  MIRANDA EXPLAINED THAT before they’d tied her to the stakes she’d recognized some of the odd growths of willows by the Brooke.

  Jules didn’t even know they were near the Brooke.

  “Didn’t you try to peek out when they brought you here?”

  “I was unconscious.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ll tell you later. So, is Saul’s place close by?”

  Miranda’s eyes flitted to the branches. “They weren’t taking us there. Your mom’s somewhere under the Brooke. That’s what I heard.”

  “Under? How’s that possible?” Jules didn’t want to think of the implications of being under the river. It hit too close to his grandparents’ drowning.

  “Those tunnels you mentioned before near Holden’s place? They run all over. Most were created by Handoverans who wanted to escape to live here in Reign centuries ago. Supposedly they’d dug one that runs from Handover to here.”

  Jules remembered the rusty rungs that went up the walls in some of the tunnels.

  Miranda jerked her chin at the Scorpent ruckus. “Looks like they just discovered that the Hanfie they caught is gone.”

  “He’s the very one who stole my lantern.”

  “Really?”

  “I hope he was telling the truth when he said he’d changed and doesn’t mean Elfies harm. I left him with Mosche and your mother.”

  “My mother?” She shook his shoulders.

  Jules clued her in about Chrystle and Tennesson and how he’d convinced them Miranda had left for Glennora. “I had no clue you were in the camp. Look!”

  Before them leaves and debris swirled and a gray mist snaked across the forest floor like a serpent slithering and searching for someone to devour.

  When the mist stopped, it formed a figure with a hooked beak and dark eyes. It stood not a stone’s throw from Jules and Miranda, but the rock seemed to protect them for now.

  Jules thought th
e apparition was speaking to him but saw that an Elfie stood to his right, partially hidden by the rock. But he recognized the voice.

  “I just need to verify one last issue in the Book, and then I can take you to that library.”

  “You’d betterrr be right thisss time.”

  Jules cupped his hand over Miranda’s mouth, for she’d looked like she was about to shriek. They must stay hidden or they would lose their chance to spy on Saul’s activities.

  91 - THE REAL TRAITOR

  WHISPERER SAID, “GEHZUROLLE left specific instructions

  about the Books. So you read speedily.”

  Jules edged his way out of his hidden position and peered to spy on the scene.

  Saul said, “What did you burn over yonder?”

  Whisperer said, “A traitor you needn’t worry yourself over. Although it must have been a weakling, after all.”

  “What?”

  “The traitor,” Whisperer went on, “doesn’t smell as intense as I predicted.”

  “It’s not the Hanfie who tried to escape? Or did I hear you also got that boy, Ralston?”

  “My Scorpents say we no longer have need for the boy, although it would have been nice to have him as a bargaining chip—just in case the mothers try to trick us.”

  By now Jules couldn’t hear Saul’s reply. He motioned to Miranda and whispered in her ear. “Do you know the entrance to that tunnel?”

  “It’s near Holden’s house,” she said.

  That tunnel near Holden’s home was the meeting point for his siblings.

  What it they met up with Scorpents? Or enemy Handoverans? Jules could only hope the lanterns stayed true.

  “I need to find Flamethrower’s Book before Saul does. Can you find my mom on your own?”

  “I can do better—I know where to hide them.”

  “Here—take the lantern.”

  She took it from him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “For luck.”

  Jules stepped backward and almost fell.

  She said, “What about you?”

  “What?” Jules thought she sounded worried.

  “Do you have a lantern?”

  “I brought two and have another hidden over there.” He pointed to a bush some steps away.

  “When they’re safe, I’ll come find you.”

  “No. Stay there. I’ll find—” But it was too late. Miranda had already slid away from the rock hideout and, quick as flash, she was gone. Jules didn’t have time to worry; he cast one glance at Saul and crept away in the opposite direction toward the hidden lantern.

  92 - SECRET LIBRARY

  JULES COULDN’T BELIEVE all he’d gone through as he stepped into the dark spiral steps that wound deep under his home to the cellar library. When he reached the door into the cellar he found it bolted.

  Saul or one of his agents must have locked it the last time he was here, for Jules recalled he had not closed the door then.

  With difficulty Jules slid the latch open inch by inch, careful not to make the rusty slider creak. Still, it squeaked. He took a deep breath and waited. Surely no one was in the library unless they were trapped within.

  Once the bolt was closed, the solid door was impenetrable. Jules took the diamond-tipped Scorpent nail from his pocket, slipped the hook-like portion between the latch and door, and shaved off a small portion from the bolt itself. With the rust shaven off, the latch slid back silently. Better than oiling it, he thought.

  An idea hit him.

  Once inside the cellar he placed his lantern on the floor, rummaged for the thin glass twine from his pocket, careful not to cut himself, made a loop with the twine, and hooked the loop over the handle of the latch.

  Holding onto the twine carefully, he closed the door and pulled the twine so it re-bolted the door from the inside.

  With the diamond-tipped hook he sawed off the twine. If Saul and the Scorpents got there before Jules had a chance to escape then at least they wouldn’t think he was hidden in the cellar and hopefully they wouldn’t think to bolt the door again if they left before him. It would be impossible to open the door from the inside.

  Having accomplished this task Jules held his lantern high and scanned the cellar with its high ceiling. He gazed at the books with different eyes from when he had last been there.

  Was this the very library the King had once sat in while penning the Books? It was possible the whole library had sunk and a tree had grown over it, since that had been centuries ago. And the ceiling was incredibly high. Every other item of furniture must have been taken away. Only the bookcases and books were left.

  The books in the shelves looked just as big and formidable as when Jules had last seen them. They lined the four walls of the cellar with the dozen or so middle bookcases spaced back to back reaching to the ceiling.

  Old books sat there by the thousands, some stacked on the shelves, most arranged by height next to one another, spine to dusty spine, on the bookshelves. Some of the books had interesting spines made of shells or bound with lace, now almost tattered. Most of the tomes loomed tall— several times taller than Jules, and many considered him tall for an Elfie.

  Much had happened since he and his siblings had hidden in there.

  If I tried to think like Flamethrower I might find his Ancient Book.

  Lantern in hand, Jules walked past the first row of books, soldiers at

  attention, standing guard, still and stately. Coated with a thick layer of powdery dust, the volumes looked like they’d been untouched, let alone read.

  Which was a good sign.

  If the Ancient Book had been slipped between one of these it would have left a gap because these books had stayed the same size but the 302 Emma Right Ancient Book had shrunk. Furthermore, the spines of the Ancient Books were different from these bound tomes. The double X’s made of coppery wire on the spine would have surely stood out, which meant that sticking them between any two books wouldn’t have been enough to conceal them.

  Grandpa Leroy must not have found the Book, for surely he’d have brought it to his mother. Yet he’d written that cryptic message ‘—ook within.’ Look within? Book within? Hook within? Crook within? Grandpa must have found clues about its whereabouts from his own Book. But that by itself had not been enough to get him the exact location.

  Saul, at least according to Miranda, did not possess his own Book, and Grandpa didn’t know of Jessie Lacework being a Keeper, or he might have asked to research hers. Which meant only one option remained—to visit Mosche.

  Grandpa must have shared his suspicions of the Book in the library with Saul, who connived to take advantage of Grandpa’s desire to locate Mosche and sent him that fake letter.

  Perhaps Saul did want Grandpa to find Mosche and bring him back so Saul could also get his hands on the fifth Book and sell that to Gehzurolle to get his prize—the crown or Chrystle, or both. Or maybe Saul just wanted Grandpa out of the way so he could capture his mother and Mrs. L. and get their Books.

  Regardless, how could Jules locate Flamethrower’s lost Book with only a scrap of a clue, and even that a dubious one? Grandpa must not have told Saul, or surely with ‘—ook within’ and with the kidnapped Books, Saul would have deciphered things, and he’d have his hands on the Book by then.

  Jules wiped off some of the dust on the spine next to him. AOG Sigrid, or Art of Games by Sigrid. He took another step and cleaned the next spine, AOW Thoryn, Art of War by Thoryn. Systematically, Jules wiped with his cloak and read the spine. And then it hit him.

  Since Flamethrower was still tall before he left Reign and the curse hit the Kingdom, the books at Flamethrower’s eye level would have been several shelves up. Unreachable for Jules presently unless he had hours to climb.

  But if the Book was up there and it left a gap, no one Jules’s size (which included everyone in Reign and beyond,) would even know. But, if Flamethrower wanted to hide it somewhere inconspicuous he must not have used a shelf that was eye level and obvious at the time of the
hiding.

  He’d have hidden it either behind something or placed it on a lower shelf.

  But not spine outward, not even with the Book’s leaves facing out, as again it would have stuck out from the others. But where was it?

  93 - OOK WITHIN

  “—OOK WITHIN,” TRULY meant “Look within,” and also, “Book within.” Because the Book was hidden within another Book and Jules thought he knew where now. He kept on reading the titles, but not each one as before. He skipped every five or ten books.

  The books were arranged in alphabetical order, and he quickly realized this was not the correct row.

  How long had he been reading and searching? Mustn’t lose track of time, he reminded himself.

  The dust proved to slow things as he constantly had to rub his nose so as not to consistently sneeze. When he was on to the fifth bookcase, his heart thumped so loudly he was sure anyone lurking above in the main house would hear it. The book was titled, Only One King by Eleazer, and before it, the letters “OOK Eleazer.” This must have been the Eleazer of old that stories associated with the King who left and could not return due to the lost crown. If he could pry the book loose from its tight fit between the two that stood guard on its left and right, Jules felt sure the Ancient Book lay inside.

  But try as he might the “OOK” book wouldn’t budge.

  And worse, footsteps thudded near the doorway into the cellar. They must have slid the latch open without Jules hearing it. What if Saul was there? He’d see the lantern. Jules turned it off.

  Gruff voices with a shrill wheeze at the end of each breathy sentence floated into the room, followed by an altogether familiar voice. Saul’s. The gall of him to bring Scorpents into this cellar. Would they stumble upon the broken glass twine he’d looped over the latch or had that fallen and perhaps in the darkness been overlooked?

  Jules hoisted himself up the OOK book. Thank goodness for all that practice scaling up the barks of redwoods and whatnot. The gap between the top of the book and the bottom of the shelf above him was not much—about the width of his shoulders—but it was enough for him and his lantern to squeeze into. The bookcase was one of ten that backed onto another. Once perched on top Jules wiggled his legs toward the back of the bookcase and he lay prone, head overhanging the top of the book’s spine.

  Hurry! Jules told himself. He rummaged inside his cloak pocket and cut his finger on the diamond tipped hook but bit his lip to stop the pain.

  What it Scorpents smelled him? Better squeeze farther back. He wiggled like an earthworm toward the back of the bookcase even more.

  The voices were clearer now and the shadows of the visitors made huge shapes here and there as the torches they carried brightened the library.

  “The Book,” Saul’s voice boomed in the high ceiling of the cellar, “should be in one of the middle cases. Look for the title, Only One King.

  Let’s divide. I hope you lot are literate.”

  So, Saul had figured out the location using the two Books in his hold.

  “What,” a Scorpent voice said, “do we do with them?”

  Who were they referring to? Surely Miranda had reached his mother and Mrs. L and taken them to safety?

  “Take the women back to the hideout and watch them. Once we get the Book we can transport the whole lot to the Master,” Saul said. Feet trudged across the stone floor.

  How could Saul, a Keeper, call Gehzurolle his Master? Jules felt contempt and pity for Saul for having sold himself.

  Then Saul said something that startled Jules, and he drew in his breath sharply. “And if the Master queries about Jon Blaze’s death you must support my claim that I was not to blame. Besides, his son, that Ralston boy, can take over as Keeper and translate, so all’s not lost.”

  “So let’s hope the Scorpents find the boy,” a voice hissed, almost inaudibly.

  94 - FOUND AGAIN

  JULES HELD HIS breath for so long he almost passed out. He never thought he would lose his dad. When did this tragedy happen? How? Saul, it seemed, was to blame.

  His stomach churned and his throat constricted. How could Saul betray them so? Jules lay there paralyzed. If he jumped onto Saul he could strangle him. Cut his throat with the diamond tipped hook. After all, the lantern would hide him from the Scorpents.

  But what could that accomplish? And what about his mother? And Mrs. L? Who’d save them if he was caught? And his dad’s Book? Strange, he never considered Flamethrower’s Book as his dad’s. Without the Book the Keeper could be so easily defeated.

  A familiar voice broke through Jules’s grief.

  “Rage will release the locusts once we find the boy. They should be arriving any minute.”

  Locusts? In Reign? Jules had heard they were trained to devour Elfies whole. Were these the same ones he’d run into in Handover? So, why were they brought here?

  “Of course,” Saul muttered. “What do we have here? No Turning Back by Llewellyn. NTB. We are already at the ‘N’ series. Let’s hope the ‘OOK’ book isn’t on the upper shelves.”

  So Saul hadn’t figured Eleazer’s book sat on a bottom shelf. Jules squeezed himself farther in, toward the back of the bookcase. His feet found a gap behind the Only One King book. He slid down with a soft thud and pressed his back against the back board of the bookcase.

  Dust flew up and tickled his nostrils when he landed. He cupped his nose with one hand.

  “Did you hear that?” Saul sounded very close.

  “Maybe the boy sneaked in here.” The same familiar whisper sounded.

  Whisperer!

  Saul, again. “Can’t be. The cellar door was locked from the outside.

  You float to the upper shelves and see if the title’s up there.”

  A whoosh sounded and the bookcase shivered as though Whisperer’s presence between the shelves sent shivers up the spines of the books as they stood guarding the Ancient Book.

  “Try,” Saul shouted, “not to bring the entire bookcase down, Whisperer.”

  Jules thought it excellent that the bookcase had shifted as another idea struck him and he brought the diamond-tipped hook out again. Who’d have thought he’d have so many uses for a Scorpent claw.

  Several minutes passed and, between the wheezing of the Scorpents and Saul’s muttering as he read the titles, the cellar library teemed with activity and noise until Saul said, “Ahh! I got it. I found it. Only One King.

  Help me take this volume out, you useless lot. It’s stuck tight.”

  Scorpent feet trudged toward the book, and Eleazer’s book shook as they tried some method to loosen the hold. They managed to slide another book next to it out first and this fell with a thump, barely missing Saul, who cursed.

  “You almost crushed me, you oaf!” Saul said, “Hurry. It should be within this one.”

  Four Scorpents held onto the spine of the “OOK” book.

  Saul went on: “Flamethrower cut out the pages inside and hid the Book within this one. I’d never have guessed that ‘OOK’ referred to both ‘book’ and ‘look’ within and also the call number of the book, of the only book Eleazer ever wrote, too. ”

  Another thump resounded as Only One King dropped to the floor, having been successfully maneuvered out of its slot.

  “Once we open the cover, the Book will be within—of course it wouldn’t occupy the entire cut-out as it had shrunk—” Saul stopped short when the cover was thrown open by four Scorpents. “How can that be?”

  Saul said.

  “Where isss i-it?” Whisperer hissed out.

  But even as Saul, with the help of two Scorpents, flipped the cut-out pages, the Blaze Ancient Book remained amiss.

  Whisperer said, “The Master will be upset, most upset. Essspecially since I urged him to visit Reign for thisss most auspiciousss time. I will blame you, Saul. I will tell the Master you tricked me, tricked usss all into wasting the Master’s time. Where isss the Book? Do you not wish to see your daughter and granddaughter again?”

  “Mayb
e it was the boy! He must have stolen it. Got here before we did. If we hurry we’ll find him before the Master gets here. He couldn’t have gone far.”

  Whisperer swirled and turned back into his dark density of smoke self and floated toward the cellar entry. “Who shut thisss door?”

  Jules on the other side of the bolted door, lantern in hand, crept back up the steps thankful he was able to see with the light, especially since he had to grope with one hand when finding his way to the door of the library, and then slide the bolt shut in the dark. His other hand clutched at his chest, the Blaze Ancient Book within his grasp.

  The diamond-tipped hook had served its purpose in more ways than he could’ve imagined, for he had cut a hole through the pages of Eleazer’s book with it, easy enough due to the age of the papers, crawled in through the opening, and taken the Book even whilst Whisperer was busy rattling the shelves and Saul was muttering his grumbles.

  But how long could the bolt hold the Scorpents in? And could Whisperer slide through the gaps between the door and the jamb?

  95 - BUZZING

  IN THE CLOSET Jules placed his ear to the door, afraid more Scorpents lurked outside. But no sound came through.

  He stepped into the living room and gazed around. Was Gehzurolle truly on his way to Reign? Was it another of Whisperer’s bluffs, for Gehzurolle’s agents had no qualms about using any means to get their way?

  The house felt cold and lonely without the usual chatter and quarrels of his siblings and his mother’s usual banter. But maybe it felt especially lonesome because his father would never walk in again. Nor his grandpa and grandma.

  Behind him, deep under the closet, a faint rumble came through. It was a matter of time before Whisperer figured a way out of the cellar.

  Jules knew he must get to the hideout Miranda mentioned and make sure his mother and Mrs. L were safe, but he felt paralyzed by the news of his dad. He clutched the Book to his chest and rocked back and forth, trying to stop himself from sobbing. He pushed thoughts of his father away from his mind, happy times, scolding times, misunderstandings. It was such a long time ago his father had left them to go ward off the Handoveran soldiers.

  Did Dad realize he was a Keeper? Was that why his parents, too, had died prematurely when his father was a teenager? At least the Blaze Book would tell. But now was not the time to speculate, Jules chided himself. Not the time to reminisce. And regret. And what of the locusts? That was when Jules noticed a buzzing, droning, and grating on his nerves. What was that annoyance?

  When Jules peeped through the shutters he found his answers. Right before his home, several steps away in the clearing between the oak trees, was a gathering of thousands, perhaps millions of locusts, brown with feelers that sang a song of war. They stood at attention, hard-shelled body lined next to hard-shelled body, with only their gangly feelers rubbing against each other as if in impatience, as if awaiting instructions.

  Then the front door burst open and unlikely visitors stumbled through it.

  “Jules!” It was Miranda.

  “What are you doing here? I told you to stay with Mom.”

  “They’re fine. Mrs. L was ill but your mom’s taking care of her. We heard a loud buzzing and your mother told me to check on you.”

  Behind her, Holden, Ralston, and his sisters followed her in, stumbling.

  “What,” Jules continued, “are you all doing here?” He turned again to Miranda. “Did you bring them here?”

  Miranda said, “We only met seconds ago around the bend.”

  Holden said, “Abel helped us. And Tennesson showed us the way.”

  Ralston said, “We came to warn you. The locusts are here to eat any Elfies left behind in Reign. Some force is keeping them calm, but we heard they’ll begin their feasting once Whisperer passes instructions.”

  Jules pressed his knuckles against his temple. “Did Fiesty bring you here?”

  “With his friends,” Holden cut in. “They met us by the river. But they left in a frenzy when they saw the locusts out there.”

  Ralston added, “They’re too many. Millions. Gazillions. And not just here, too. We saw them on the way.”

  96 - BLOWN AWAY

  A DEEPER RUMBLE escaped from the closet.

  “What,” Bitha said, “is that?”

  “Whisperer. Too much to explain. We must leave now.”

  “But what about the locusts?”

  Jules slipped the Book into one of his deeper pockets and patted about looking for something. He brought out Abel’s whistle and turned to Ralston and his sisters. “Do you have one?”

  They nodded. “Abel gave us one each,” Ralston said.

  “We’re going to blow them away.”

  Ralston said, “What?” His eyes widened.

  Jules stepped through the front door and the rest followed suit. When he started blowing into the whistle, no sound issued forth, but he remembered that was what had happened before and how help had come in the form of Fiesty. And then another time, the butterflies.

  After a few minutes, Holden jabbed Jules on his side. “How long do we keep blowing?”

  “Until something happens.”

  But the locusts remained, still focused on rubbing their gangly feelers, still unmovable. Will they up and leave? Or will they only obey Whisperer’s call? Or maybe Gehzurolle’s? Was Gehzurolle already on his way?

  Stop worrying, Jules.

  A breeze shook the boughs directly above him, and the afternoon sky must have darkened, for suddenly the light faded. When Jules took a step off the porch, an acorn dropped in front of him.

  Whoa!

  Then another and another came down. Was it raining acorns? He glanced up. Eyes were watching him. And beaks poked out of the leaves on the branches here and there. He thought to stop blowing but didn’t. When a bird swooped toward him, Jules jerked back. He recalled the black birds that had attacked them on that evening so many weeks ago. Ravens had tried to eat them. But the birds that swooped toward him, toward them at the porch, weren’t black.

  They were white. Doves!

  Jules had read of them, but had never seen them before in Reign. And here they were.

  A handful of doves dove toward Jules and his companions, but the rest, in the hundreds, maybe thousands, flapped toward the waiting locusts and began to peck at them as feed.

  “Quick, we must leave before Whisperer escapes.” Jules shoved the whistle back into his pocket, grabbed Tippy’s arm and pushed her toward a dove that had alighted directly before them. But she twisted herself free and held her hand out.

  “My sardius, Jules.”

  Jules ruffled her hair and, having found the red stone, dropped it into her open palm. “I told you I’d take care of it. Now, c’mon.”

  She hugged him as he placed her on the dove.

  Holden said, “I can ride with Tst Tst.”

  And Ralston rode with Bitha.

  As Miranda swung her leg to get onto her dove, Jules reached for her arm. “Take my place and ride with Tippy. I need to return to the cellar.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Your grandpa’s in there—they’ll kill him for sure for losing the Book.

  Here, take this, and hand me the lantern.” He handed her Flamethrower’s Book, which he knew was really a Blaze Book.

  “Let me talk to him,” Miranda said, her eyes tearing.

  “Later. I need to ask him some things. Just take them to my mom, and this time, please, wait for me there.”

  “But—”

  But Jules already took off, lantern high above his head. Would Saul listen to reason?

  97 - CRUSHED

  HE’D EXPECTED WHISPERER to have broken through the cellar door and to be waiting in the house with his Scorpents. But when he entered stealthily all remained quiet. Ominously quiet. He was about to step into the closet when a moaning stopped him.

  Behind an overturned dining table a pair of boots stuck out. Jules tiptoed and peeked behind the furniture. Saul lay on
his back, eyes closed, as if asleep, except for the moaning. The Scorpents must have hurt him. When Jules went on his knees to check his hands, he landed on a sticky mass on the floor.

  Blood! That was when he saw the blade sticking out of Saul’s chest.

  “Oh, no! Saul!” He touched the old Keeper’s forehead and cheek to revive him, but Saul’s eyes remained closed. “Mr. Saul. It’s me, Jules.” And felt stupid for saying it. Why would Saul even care about him at the moment?

  “What can I do?” he whispered to Saul.

  “It’s too late.”

  “I don’t get it. They’re not supposed to be able to kill Elfies here. In Reign.”

  “That’s right. But I gave myself to them, remember?” Saul sounded resigned.

  He held out his hand as if in surrender, and smiled weakly. “Where’s Miranda?”

  “She’s safe, with my mom.”

  “They told me they burned her. You saw her? Sure she’s safe?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Miranda must leave Reign. Gehzurolle’s locusts will eat every Elfie on sight, and there is no hiding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He has found the crown and will place it on the Point. I know it. You realize what that means, boy?”

  “What our people have been waiting for centuries to see. We’ll regain our height. Just like before the curse.”

  “You don’t get it? You think it such a great thing to reverse the curse?

  To grow back to the size we were? Don’t you see—where one curse ends, another begins.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When the crown is placed on the Point, everyone will grow. Even those hiding under the earth and the trees. They’ll all be crushed.”

  Jules remembered what Mosche had warned. So that’s why the Book said Elfies had to gather to watch the crown at the Point. It was for their safety. “We can rally everyone to come out.”

  Saul smirked. “Everyone? Gehzurolle has the Elfie-eating insects everywhere: locusts, mantises, ghost insects. And Rage has ordered them to consume every Elfie on sight. This will force Elfies to hide underground or in trees. And what happens when they regain their size then? Leave me, boy. It’s time for me to wither.”

  Jules moved to drag Saul by the arms, but the old Keeper slapped his helping hands away as if he was swatting at mites.

  “Stop! Go save yourself and my Miranda. And my Chrystle, too—if you can find her. And tell her I did it all for her. To save her before Gehzurolle gets to her. It’s too late for me.”

  “We don’t know if Gehzurolle got the crown.”

  “Will you be a fool till the end? Messengers just spoke of Gehzurolle’s victory. Gehzurolle would win in the end—always knew that, always felt in these bones of mine.”

  “You shouldn’t have—felt that. Whisperer’s a liar. And so’s Gehzurolle. I refuse to believe it. I won’t believe it.”

  Saul closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Your faith never failed to amuse me. That was the one thing that prevented me from killing you when I had the chance, boy. The whole lot of you.”

  “Killing me? When?”

  “When you came asking about your mother. Thought I’d gotten rid of you for sure sending you off to Handover.”

  Jules swallowed hard a few times. “Saul, tell me about my father. What happened? Where is he?”

  But Saul didn’t open his eyes, and his breathing lessened until it ceased.

  98 - LIGHTNING SPEED

  JULES SHOOK THE old man’s shoulder violently and sobbed. He hadn’t told his siblings about his dad, for he’d hoped that what he’d heard wasn’t true. His father couldn’t have died. Shouldn’t have died.

  But it was too late for Saul to answer now. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Jules stood and glanced about the room.

  He stalked over to a partially destroyed armoire, one door tottering on its hinge, and he groped within the scattered papers in its drawers till his fingers found something soft and silky. He took it out and unfolded the square of silk. It was his grandmother’s scarf Saul had brought back that early hour when he’d brought the news of the capsize. In it lay his Grandpa’s pocket watch and the old man’s felt hat. He’d give them to his mother. Maybe they’d give her some comfort.

  Jules groped again within the drawers and found a broken mirror: the one his dad always used when he shaved. That was when he saw that the glass shard with the “OOK within” message came from a part of this mirror.

  He still had the shard, carefully wrapped, and hidden in his cloak. He’d fix it to the looking glass and give it to his mother as a memento.

  When a thud-thud came from the closed shutters, Jules froze. He ducked behind the overturned dining table, slipped the items into his pockets and crawled to the window. He peeked between the slats and breathed a long sigh. It was Fiesty pecking at the window in a frenzy. Far in the distance between the bulky trunks of oaks, the doves were still pecking at their feed. It wouldn’t do for a dove to take Fiesty as food.

  Swiftly, Jules got out to check on his pet. But when he strode to the door again a roar above stopped him from knocking. Thunder? He hadn’t noticed any lightning through the window slots due to the canopy. Was thisxlike the solitary flash last night, a single warning of a pending storm?

  The hair on Jules’s arms stood on ends. Static electricity. Just like when the lightning destroyed Holden’s place.

  Jules rushed out the front door and hoisted himself onto Fiesty, and with one hand on its neck and another hanging on to the lantern he said, “Quick—”

  Just as they airlifted a gush of hot air shot past him like a fiery arrow and the oak tree that held his home burst into flames. How they escaped the fire Jules couldn’t say, for the instant they took off his tree home exploded like firecrackers. He forced himself not to think of Saul, who was lying in there, nor the things he’d grown up with and were tied to his grandparents and his family. A lifetime of childhood memories evaporated in seconds.

  Would the fire consume the books deep in the cellar?

  Fiesty must have sensed the danger, too, for he darted in and out of the tall grasses, higher and higher, and away from the burning tree. Amidst the black smoke and wailing of doves flapping to get away, Jules saw a trail of gray puff swirling upward. Whisperer?

  “Faster, Fiesty.” Jules knew he was no match for the powers Whisperer could harness against him. The heat from the fire turned his face red and the smell of singed leaves and smoke made his eyes tear.

  From the gray swirl something like silver arrows shot out and pierced the clouds that hung low, and the sky growled as if in pain. More and more thunderous crashes sounded as lightning struck tree after tree. The ground vibrated and rattled as though giants were stomping everywhere. Several of the conifers blasted into flames as the bolts shot down upon the forest with greater speed. Each affected tree instantly burst into flames and burned black before toppling with deafening booms. The lightning consumed some trees whole.

  Whisperer was destroying everything Jules loved.

  Before long Jules’s backyard resembled a graveyard for dead trees.

  Some of the conifers rested on top of toppled trunks; a few tottered between unscathed neighbors like unpredictable see-saws.

  Jules let go of Fiesty’s neck and groped deep into his cloak until he found it. It felt heavy and the soft leather supple in his hand. He hefted the weight in his palm and with his teeth cinched the leather strap of his

  Grandpa’s leather pouch even tighter. He’d be sad to lose it, too, but his Grandpa must surely approve of his plan if he succeeded.

  One hand still grasping the lantern and Fiesty’s neck the best he could, he jerked Fiesty around and headed toward the mass of gray swirling by an unharmed tree. Jules, holding onto the leather thong, slung the pouch filled with the gem stones upward over his head and twirled it round and round, lassoing it faster and faster till the pouch became a whirring blur over him.

  When he flew as
close to Whisperer as he dared, he let go the leather thong and the pouch of stones rocketed toward the dark mass. Jules didn’t hang around to see its effect until he was a few trees away. The pouch must have come loose when it hit Whisperer, for its contents tumbled in the air, a hundred different hues that caught the dazzle of the fire and lightning. But that was not what amazed him.

  Instead of falling to the ground, the gems spun about their own axis, practically at lightning speed and, having gained such speed, each stone flashed across the empty space and raced toward the sky leaving a trail of silver in its wake, not unlike the flash he’d seen whizzing across the sky that night.

  What had he and Grandpa collected all those years? When another tree crashed close to where he and Fiesty were hovering Jules knew it was time to escape.

  99 - TRUTH

  JULES JERKED FIESTY here and there to avoid the lightning bolts and the crashing trees. Perhaps Whisperer was still at it. Was his family safe in that tunnel near Holden’s already-destroyed home?

  When they got there Jules alighted and raced to the hole near the rock.

  Someone had piled stones on top of each other around the hole so it was even better hidden than before.

  The moment he slid in and landed at the bottom a hand reached out and grabbed him.

  “Jules!” the voice was familiar, but it was dark, too dark to decipher features and faces, and it had been a terribly long time since the speaker greeted him. But when someone brought a lantern up close, Jules leaned over, and hugged his greeter with all the strength left in him.

  “Dad! Saul said you were dead.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jon Blaze ruffled his hair, even though Jules stood taller than his dad by at least a hand’s width. “You went through something awful.

  I came back as soon as I’d heard about the locusts. We saw them fly here. Holden and Ralston saw my troop when we were on our way to the house and they told me everything. I’m sorry we came too late to help you, but I’m more than glad you’re safe.”

  “But we can’t stay here. Saul said Gehzurolle’s found the crown and means to use it to destroy Elfies.”

  As they hiked deeper into the tunnel to get to Erin, Jessie, and the rest of the children, Jules informed his father of all he’d learned. As it turned out Gehzurolle had not found the crown and that it was just another lie.

  “Still,” Jules said, “we should help Chrystle get it, or hide it, until we’re all ready.”

  Jon Blaze agreed. He had his regiment ready for redeployment.

  “Mom!” Jules rushed forward and gave his mother a long hug. Even Holden was seated by his own mother, as she lay on some blankets with her head resting on a bundle as a pillow.

  “I’m glad we’re all safe.” Jules reached into his different pockets and brought out the gifts he’d brought for his mother. “I’m sorry about Grandpa and Grandma. And I even brought you Dad’s looking glass.” He told them about how he figured out the location of Flamethrower’s Book and all agreed they should pool their thoughts to figure out what to do next.

  Later when alone with Miranda, Jules said, “I’m sorry about Saul.”

  “Me, too. More than I care to admit. I know it’s going to hit me hard later—that he’s gone. He was a father and a mother to me all my life. But I could always tell he lied to me, here and there. He was so bitter about my grandmother’s death, and then, my own mother ran away. I still can’t believe it—what he tried to do.”

  “I guess your mother had reasons to leave him.”

  “And to take his Book away.” The rim of Miranda’s eyes were red.

  “Once we get all the Books together we’d know for sure how to proceed.

  I miss Mosche and even Abel. He and his crazy whistles.”

  “I wondered about those. He must have some diagrams to follow.”

  “He has his secrets, but he’s a good guy.”

  “Like you.” Miranda wrapped her golden hair into a low knot and slid it under her cloak.

  “Like you, too. A good girl, I mean.”

  “You finally believe me—about the crown.”

  “I always wanted to believe you. I hope your mother found the chest before anyone else. I’m glad what Saul said about Gehzurolle finding the crown and how those living in the trees and underground would be crushed if we were to change back suddenly wasn’t real.” Jules’s eyes searched for Holden. He was talking to Mrs. L. How were they going to find Mr. L?

  Even Jon Blaze didn’t have a clue where their infantry went.

  Miranda said, “Still, I intend to leave for Handover to find my mother when dawn breaks. Just to be sure Gehzurolle’s forces aren’t really going to the Point with the crown. Care to join me?”

  Jules looked over to where his siblings lay huddled in the corner, and his parents sitting on the floor cross-legged beside them, quietly talking.

  “Let me enjoy my family a bit. But I understand your need to find Chrystle.

  And, you know I met your dad.”

  She laughed. “I can hardly believe it, myself. He’s supposed to be dead!”

  “Rals didn’t tell you?” Jules told about Tennesson and how he’d helped them willingly, even though a Handoveran. “I can show you how to get to his place. He’s waiting for your mother. There must have been a change of plans. I thought they were to take Ralston and the girls here.”

  “I better talk to Ralston, then.” She made as if she was going toward Ralston who sat next to Jon Blaze but turned to face Jules again. A wisp of hair fell across her high forehead. “Sure you don’t want to follow me tomorrow morning?”

  “I’m not sure about anything. The Books might very well point me to follow you.” He smiled, brushed the golden wisps from her eyes and pushed the strands away from her face. He brought his other hand up and fastened the metal clip he’d stepped on earlier, to the tip of her ear.

  But that night Jules tossed and turned. When he woke up with a start he heard a whisper and in the doorway of the underground chamber he saw Saul beckoning to him.

  The epic adventure continues with Book 2 (Prisoner of Reign) and concludes with Book 3 (Giants of Reign)

  Prisoner of Reign (Book 2, Reign Trilogy)

  Giants of reign (Book 3 Reign Trilogy) soon available

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  Other Books by Emma Right

  Dead Dreams, Book 1

  © 2013 Emma Right

  A young adult/ teen psychological thriller and suspense mystery for readers 12 and up.

  Eighteen-year-old Brie O’Mara has so much going for her: a loving family on the sidelines, an heiress for a roommate, and dreams that might just come true. Big dreams—of going to acting school, finishing college and making a name for herself. What more could she hope for? Except her dreams are about to lead her down the road to nightmares. Nightmares that could turn into a deadly reality.

  Gone Missing (Dead Dreams, Book 2)

  Books 1-8 in the Princesses of Chadwick Castle Adventure Series

  1. While Princesses Sleep

  2. Beaded Dresses Mystery

  3. Lady With The Circlet

  4. Secret Mission Princess

  5. Pretty Scary Lady

  6. Down With The Crown

  7. Peasant Princesses

  8. Princess Rewards

  Also available in Box Sets 1 and 2

  All Titles in the Princess Ballerina Series.

  Runaway Princess, Book 1

  Cliffside Mystery, Book 2

  Castle Academy, Book 3

  Court Secrets, Book 4

  Forgotten Mystery, Book 5


  Ballerina Picnic, Book 6

  Princess Troubles, Book 7

  Ballet Academy, Book 8

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  Dead Dreams, Book 1 a young adult/ teen psychological thriller and suspense mystery for readers 12 and up.

  Eighteen-year-old Brie O’Mara has so much going for her: a loving family on the sidelines, an heiress for a roommate, and dreams that might just come true. Big dreams—of going to acting school, finishing college and making a name for herself. What more could she hope for? Except her dreams are about to lead her down the road to nightmares. Nightmares that could turn into a deadly reality.

  About Emma Right:

  Award-winning author and copywriter, Emma Right, is a happy wife and homeschool mother of five living in the Pacific West Coast. Besides running a busy home, and looking after too many pets, she also writes stories—when she is not behind the wheel driving her children for various activities. Her books have won literary awards. She hopes her books will help empower young adults and children, and instil the love of learning and reading. Ms. Right worked as a copywriter for several major advertising agencies and has won national and international advertising awards, including the prestigious Clio, in her copywriting career. Learn more about Emma Right and her books at emmaright.com