Shadow Warriors

Chapter Ten

2013-08-04T17:29:00.002-07:00

The terrain had become a series of choppy, steep hills and the walk more laborious, yet Mason was spurred on by the prospect of a sword, her sword. She reached the top of the current hill. Leo and Tom, not quite as eager as she, caught up to her. Below, waiting, was the magic orb of fire Tom had summoned. She smiled at her companions and trotted down the hill.

Tom following, said, “ So, where do you think it is taking us?”

Mason, without slowing her step, glanced at Tom. “To my sword.”

“Yeah,” said Tom, “but where?”

Leo, a step behind them, said, “It sure is not going to be at the bottom of any lake.”

Tom laughed. “No kidding.”

At the bottom of the hill, Mason again brushed off dry dust. “I don’t know. Magic swords usually don’t just lay around.” Her eyes slanted. “Usually they are guarded by some kind of monster.” She headed up the next hill toward the waiting globe of fire. “At least the one’s hidden by the foe.”

Tom called from behind her. “The foe?”

“Yeah,” said Mason. “You got’ta better name for our enemy or whatever is against us?”

“No,” said Tom.

“All the good ones are taken,” said Leo.

“What?” said Mason without turning around and missing the glances the two boys traded.

Leo spoke cautiously. “All the good bad guy names are taken. You know, like Darth Vader, Hades, Lord Foul, Morgana…”

Mason reached the top of the hill. The flame was already a good distance ahead at the bottom. She frowned. Tom stepped to her right. Leo came up to her left still listing names.

“… and Doctor No, oh, and the evil stepmother stuff,” he said, “but really no names, just a bad reputation.” Leo paused. “It is kind of unfair.”

“What are you talking about?” said Tom.

Mason shook her head.

Leo, grateful for the chance to catch his breath, surveyed the landscape.

“Just more hills,” he said. “But…” He stood on his tiptoes. “I see a …uh…tower thing.”

“Where?” said Mason.

“Over there,” he said, pointing. “On a far hill.”

“I don’t see anything,” said Tom. “You sure?”

“I just see so many shadows of gray and … uh…dullness,” said Mason.

Leo huffed. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He looked at his companions. “It’s at the edge of a dead forest.” He looked toward Mason and Tom. “You have to, at least, see the trees. They are very dark and stand out.”

Mason squinted.

“Hey, do you have super sight as a Rogue?”

“I would say we have only another couple hours to walk,” said Leo.

Mason was still scanning the blurred horizon in search of anything that stood out.

“What do you mean tower thing?” she said, frustrated.

Tom patted Leo on the shoulder. “That would be cool, right?”

“You know,” said Leo. “A place for a bell. Like, above a building. I see the tower.”

“A bell tower?”

Leo nodded. “That’s what I said.”

“To a church?”

Leo shrugged. “I guess.”

Mason studied Leo for a moment, then looked at Tom. The two boys stood looking at her. The conversation was over, yet, it seemed that more was to be said.

Or asked.

The awkward moment continued. Leo scratched his head and looked toward where the others could not see as if checking if the bell tower moved. Tom kicked at the dirt, waiting.

We should do something, thought Mason.

And that’s when the ground rumbled.

It started low, like an oncoming roll of thunder. Vibrations came up through her legs and into her stomach. The vibrations led to shaking. She spread her legs to keep her balance and ride out the shock wave. Tom and Leo held out there arms to each other and to her. Stumbling, the three braced themselves as the ground heaved around them.

Moments later, all was silent except for their breathing. The earth had settled.

Still clasping each other’s shoulders, Mason asked. “So, what way did that come from?

Tom motioned with his head as Leo vocalized what they all knew and dreaded to hear. “From the tower thing.”

Chapter Nine

2012-09-01T06:10:00.002-07:00

“We are nearing the edge of the Shade,” said Kendahl, her green eyes blazing against the gloom of the gray forest.

The elf, as per her title of Pathfinder, had taken the lead. Durehn, Louise noted, stayed near her left elbow. He grumbled and grunted as he traversed the rough terrain of the woods of near dead trees.

“The Shade?” asked Louise.

“These woods are The Shade,” said Durehn. “They stretch in all directions from The Fist.”

Louise nodded and surveyed the gnarled oaks and drooping pines. It made her sad to think miles and miles of trees all gray and broken and lifeless.

Durehn stumbled. He spoke harsh dwarven words, saw Louise’s startled expression and apologized.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he said. “My tongue voices what my legs cannot say about our travels.”

Louise smiled. “Master dwarf, I do not know your language.” Durehn sighed. “But I do know what you are saying.” Too which, the dwarf blushed.

Up ahead, Kendahl crouched low with a hiss.

In a blurr, Durehn grabbed the handle of his axe. The blade jumped forward, ready to fight.

Louise sank low.

Kendahl was motionless. Her hands spread out on the ground.

“The elf can not only see and hear others far off, but she can feel them through the ground.”

Kendahl, without turning toward them to, spoke. Louise heard Kendahl’s whisper.

“That is true my short friend, only if all is quiet.”

Durehn huffed.

Several minutes went by before Kendahl stood slowly and brushed off her hands. Durehn nudged Louise’s elbow and motioned her forward.

“What is it?” asked Louise.

Kendahl’s eyes were wide surveying the woods. “I am not sure,” she said. “Beyond the Shade I sense…something.”

“Something?” said Durehn. “Like what?”

“Thomas?” said Louise. “Is it Thomas?
Kendahl looked at Louise. “I know not. I detect…” she looked forward “…forces.”

Durehn growled. “Forces?”

“Yes,” said Kendahl. “Something new to me…something of…”

From behind them, suddenly was a loud, but distant booming of thunder. Within seconds, the ground beneath their feet shuddered.

“Quake,” yelled Durehn. He grabbed Louise and pulled her to the base of a tree. “Stay down.”

Louise could not see much because Kendahl and Durehn stood over her, guarding her from falling branches. Close by, she heard a tree crack and fall.

“To your left,” yelled Kendahl.

Durehn swung his ax at a falling limb, knocking it away. Behind them another tree cracked. Louise heard its branches tear down near them. Durehn and Kendahl covered her with their bodies, blinding her, smothering her. The falling tree crashed to the ground, sending its own tremors through the ground. Then, all was silent.

For a many moments, Louise listened and concentrated on breathing. Something rough and scraggly scratched her neck and cheeks. Pine needles? Opening her eyes, she could make out the red-brown of Durehn’s beard.

Her right hand was free, so she patted his chest.

“I’m okay.”

Durehn and Kendal carefully stood. Kendahl offered a hand to Louise.

“My Lady.”

Louise took the elf’s slender hand and stood. Except for the debris and the newly fallen trees, one of which fell feet away and its branches brushing against Durehn’s back, the forest looked the same.

“He must know of your absence from the Clutch,” said Kendahl. “He is most unhappy.”

“Aye,” said Durehn. “The Dark Hand will not be forgiving.”

“Yes,” said Kendahl. “He will be sending out raiding parties in all directions from the Fist” She looked out in the direction they had been going. “We must make for the walls of the Stand.” She paused. “No matter what is out there.”

Durehn looked about with his axe ready.

Kendahl motioned them to follow. “We must hurry,” she said and took the lead.

Louise followed. Durehn holstered his axe onto his back and took his place to Louise left.

“What’s the Fist?” asked Louise.

“The Dark Hand’s fortress,” said Durehn. “It is the sister mountain to the Clutch, the prison you were held in.” He stumbled on a tree root. “There are all sorts of creatures in the Fist. Horrible, nasty things they are. And…”

Louise paused and looked at him. “And?”

“...and his army.”

“Oh,” said Louise. Fear pulled at her mind. Helplessly, her eyes watered, but she told herself she was not going to cry. She raised her chin. Louise thought of Crandall, a bully in fourth grade and how she stood up to him. “The Dark Hand is a poop-head,” she said. No, she thought, what worked in fourth grade didn’t work here.

Embarrassed, Louise turned and resumed following Kendahl.

Durehn began to chuckle. “I do not know your language,” he said beside her, “But I do know what you are saying.” He laughed louder. “Ah, ha, ha… a poop-head.”

Chapter Eight

2012-06-26T12:24:00.001-07:00

“Hey,” said Mason as they walked in the direction she had decided to go in after her proclamation of being the Paladin. “What else can you do with fire?”

Thomas stopped walking. “What?”

Mason and Leo turned and faced him.

“What else can you do with fire?”

Leo looked eagerly at Thomas.

“Don’t know,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You have discovered that you can call fire up at will, and you don’t know what you can do with it?”

Thomas was speechless. He nodded slowly.

Leo jumped in. “He can touch things and set them on fire. He can throw fireballs.” Leo gave Thomas a pat on the shoulder. “Those are cool.”

“Yes,” said Mason. “What else?” She eyed Thomas coolly. “You have to admit that you are curious.”

Thomas nodded again. “Yeah.”

“So?” She stepped back a bit. “Try something.”

“What?”

Leo stepped back to and looked around. “Yeah. Hit the rock over there with a fireball.”

“Why?”

“Just to see you do it,” said Leo.

“Practice,” said Mason.

Thomas shrugged. He set himself like a pitcher by turning sideways.

“Do you have to stand that way?” asked Mason.

Thomas shrugged. “Don’t know really.” He raised his right hand behind him.

“Right handed only?”

He gave her an exasperated look.

“Sorry.”

Thomas set himself. He concentrated on the rock. He pictured fire in his hand. He felt the fireball blaze, and he threw it. It rocketed from his hand and flared past the rock. Hitting the ground many feet beyond, it rolled until it fizzled out.

“You missed,” said Mason.

“But he can do it,” said Leo.

Mason nodded. “I guess.” She seemed to be in thought. “Anything else?”

“Uh, no,” said Thomas. “Just that so far.”

Mason stepped up to him. “Put your palm out in front.”

Thomas looked at Leo. Leo made a face that said ‘just do it’ and moved to the other side of Thomas.

“Okay,” said Mason; she wiggled her fingers over his palm. “Make some fire.”

Thomas looked at his palm and crinkled his forehead. Fire popped up. His hand felt warm and tingly, but not hot or in pain.

“Tell it to do something.”

“Like what?”

Mason thought a moment then her eyes sparkled. “Tell it to find my sword.”

“Huh?”

“Your sword?” said Leo. “What makes you think you have a sword?”

“I am the Paladin,” said Mason. “I should have a weapon, a holy weapon, that is suppose to be a part of my role.”

“Who says?”

“All the stories involving paladins and magic,” she said. “Just like there is a magic user…” She indicated Thomas. “…there should be a sword for me.”

Leo thought a moment. “What about me?”

Mason waved him off. “One thing at a time.” She nudged Thomas still holding out his palm with its magical fire. “Find my sword, Thomas.”

Thomas looked at Mason, then Leo, then his palm and said, “Find her sword.”

The fire flashed brighter causing the three to flinch, but then it dimmed, motionless.

“Now what?” said Thomas. He looked at Mason.

“Why ask me?” said Mason.

“Uh, well,” he said. “You seem to be the expert here.”

Mason smiled quickly. “Thank you.” Her face went back to concentration. “So, let’s be more specific.” She put a finger to her lips and tapped. “Hmmm.” She flipped her wrist holding up her pointer finger. “You know,” she said. “In most stories, they refer to a prophecy, and the prophecy refers to people by their roles, not their names: the Rogue, the Wizard…” she indicated Leo and Thomas. “So, refer to me as the Paladin. Tell it to find the Paladin’s sword.”

Thomas studied her face. Even in the gray light, her blue eyes still shined bright. Her face was smooth and glowing.

“Well?” she said.

Thomas looked over at Leo.

“What the heck?” he said. “Give it a whirl.”

Thomas looked at the flame. “Find the Paladin’s sword.”

Again, the fire flared, then dashed off on a forward angle of their current path of travel. All three of them stood opened mouth as it zoomed over a low rise.

“Uh…uh,” said Thomas. “Come back,” he yelled.

Within seconds, the minute ball of flame zipped back to Thomas’ hand. It came so quick that Thomas yelled and his companions jumped back from him. For a moment, no one spoke as the flame innocently flickered in his outstretched palm. Thomas quivered.

Mason stepped up. “Did you see that?” Her eyes were huge.

“Yeah,” said Thomas, a bit angrily. “I made it do that.”

Leo moved back to his other elbow. “Maybe you should tell it to go slower.”

“Huh? You think?” said Thomas. He did not know about them, but when the ball of flame came racing straight toward him, it scared him half to death. The other half of death was an image of him exploding in fire. Thomas was sweating all over.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“Now, be exact,” said Mason. “Magic requires precision.”

Thomas scowled at her. “Anything else?”

“Well, it is just…” She saw his look, smiled sweetly and patted his arm. “Nope,” she peeped. “You are doing fine.”

Thomas waited to see if she would say anything else, but all she did was give a motion with her head and eyes to look at his palm.

Thomas sighed. Again she smiled.

He looked at his palm and the waiting fire.

“Lead us to the Paladin’s sword,” he said.

The fire flickered and flashed to the top of the ridge, but instead of disappearing, it stopped as if waiting.

“Cool,” said Leo.

Mason about squealed. “You know what this means?”

Both boys looked at her.

She danced and clapped her hands with excitement. “I have a sword!"

Chapter Seven

2012-04-29T11:23:00.001-07:00

The Shadowlands. The Rogue. Gargoyle things. Elven women appearing in dreams speaking of the Paladin.

Mason, sitting under a dusty, scrubby tree away from the boys, chuckled.

I bet he has women appearing in his dreams.

“Did you say something?” said Leo. He and Thomas were sitting side by side away from Mason, which was not far at all since the desperate tree was small, haggard and leafless.

“No,” said Mason.

She heard Leo mumble something to Thomas, he responded, and then they were silent.

Mason set her jaw.

She had always loved the mystical fantasy tales her older brother, Benjamin, had shared with her. He had read tons of books, and he talked continuously about swords, mystical creatures and adventure. He wanted to be a knight and protect the realm. He would sit there and tell her what he read about, and she would draw pictures.

When he was older, he went off in the army. He said to keep his books safe. But she did more than that; she read them. The summer he left, she sat for hours reading his books.

A smile etched onto Mason’s face as she remembered that summer. Since she swore to keep them safe, she only read the books in his room. Mason longed to be in her brother’s ratty reading chair and reading of magic and…

Monsters. She was in a realm of magic, and monsters …and dust. Mason made a face. The irony felt like sand in her teeth.

She casually looked over at the boys, the wizard and the rogue, huddling like schoolgirls. Ha.

But, wasn’t the joke on her? Was she not huddling like a schoolgirl? Afraid? Timid? What a load of crud!

Mason sat up straight. I not going to be some damsel in distress. I am…

She faltered a moment.

… Dejah Thoris, Warrior Princess of Mars!

Mason paused. That was someone Mr. Williams mentioned in class. Or was it from one of her brother’s books? It did not matter. Mason knew that she was not going to be some princess that needed to be rescued.

She was going to be…the Paladin. Wait! She is the Paladin!

Mason stood. Her shoulders squared.

The boys jumped to their feet, looking around.

“Did you see something?” said Leo.

Thomas had his hand cocked as if he was going to throw a baseball.

Mason surveyed her companions.

“I,” she said, “am the Paladin.”

The boys stepped out of their defensive stances.

“What?” they said.

“I am the Paladin,” Mason said.

“You?” said Thomas.

“Yes,” said Mason. “Those gargoyles looked at me. They said ‘the Paladin.’” She stepped toward them with conviction. She felt it a power surging through her. “Yes. I am the Paladin.”

Leo spoke. “But, you’re a…”

Mason stepped up to him. “Go ahead, say it.”

Leo swallowed. Her eyes held him silent.

Mason stepped back. She had a quirky smile of confidence on her face. She knew deep inside who she was. Mason Walker, Paladin.

Chapter Six

2012-04-08T15:54:00.001-07:00

From what she could tell, it was raining. Louise could hear the steady patter above her. The sound was soothing. She snuggled into her blanket and reveled in its warmth. It had been a long time since she felt any warmth. The dark shadow lands had seen to that.

Shadowlands. Louise clenched her eyes tighter, trying not to wake up. Sleep had taken her away from the gray world and her prison, but now, as consciousness pulled at her, she returned to her reality.

Not far, she could hear voices talking quietly. She listened. The voices, one low and rumbling, the other light and rhythmic, were not familiar to her. Yet, she knew them.

An elf and a dwarf.

Louise puzzled through her thoughts. She had been taken by a large hand, she had been kept captive for months, and her only contact with anyone or anything was Long Fingers. So, it is plausible for an elf and a dwarf to than rescue her.

“She is awake,” said the elf.

“She has not stirred,” said the dwarf.

“Her breathing has changed. She is no longer asleep.”

Louise warily sat up. “I’m awake.” They were under a large pine tree, near the trunk. The rain’s steady sound dripped about, but not under the heavy branches.

The elf woman stood, slightly stooped. “My lady. It is good to see you are healthy.”

“Thank you,” said Louise.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

Louise nodded. “A bit.” She stood under the branches with just a bit of headroom.

“Master dwarf, please provide the lady with something to eat.”

He jumped to his feet “I am not some cook or kitchen staff,” he said. “I am a warrior of the Clan of Tianis-Kreg. Many a time…”

“Please, sir… uh… dwarf,” said Louise. She was uncertain how she should speak to a dwarf, so she matched the elf woman’s manners. “If I may have your name and a bite of food.”

His grumbling stopped, and he stood his full height, which still left a foot between him and the branches above.

“I am Durehn, Captain of the Mountain Guard of Tianis-Kreg.” He gave a curt nod of his large head. “I have dried meat, cheese and bread.” He knelt and pulled a pack near him.

“Thank you, good sir,” said Louise, pleased.

He stopped his rummaging in the bag. “My lady. I am not a knight or anyone’s sir. I am Durehn.”

The elf woman stepped forward. “Forgive him, my lady. Dwarven manners are not similar to that of man or elf.” She bowed. “I am Kendahlaehederon of the Woods of Shanmarra. I am, per the visions of Polhnedren, your pathfinder.”

“My pathfinder?” Louise frowned.

Durehn stomped forward and handed Louise a wedge of yellow cheese and a dark brown hunk of what appeared to resemble jerky.

“I am your warrior,” he said.
“My warrior?”

“Aye,” he said. “The vision actually says, ‘an axe of Tianis-Kreg shall stand to the left of the Queen’.” He reached his hand over his left shoulder. Almost instantly, he brought forth his axe. Its long curved head gleamed in the shadows of the tree.

“Oh my.” Louise’s eyes were huge.

“Sit,” said Kendahlaehederon.

Louise, bewildered and hungry, slowly sat down to contemplate the words she was hearing.

“Eat,” she said. “You are hungry. What we have to say will be heavy to bare.”

Louise took a bite of the cheese. It was creamy with a hint of smoke. Her eyes rolled backwards as she chewed. The cheese provided by Long Fingers was sour and paste-like.

“You mentioned Queen?”

“Yes.” Her angled features smiled politely. “May I sit, my lady?”

Louise nodded, her mouth full of another bite of the cheese.

“The visions spoke of your coming. You are the Queen of Sol-el-lyn. You bring the Hand of Light.”

Louise eyed the leathery jerky a moment, then took a small bite. It was sweet and salty, like a honey bar-b-que sauce her dad used when grilling at home. She took another bite eagerly.

“I am a Queen?” Louise said with her mouth full. She then averted her eyes and blushed.

Kendahlaehederon laughed. “It is alright, my lady,” she said. “You have been held captive in the Clutch, the mountain prison.

Louise swallowed and smiled. “You are gracious, Kendahl…Ken…dahl.. head-ron…en?”

Again the elf woman laughed. Durehn grunted.

“Elvin names are too many syllables and too many ah’s and eh’s,” he said.

“And dwarfs are too simple to speak civilly,” she said sharply. Her eyes flickered, then smiled at Louise. “You may call me Kendahl if it pleases you, my lady.”

“Sure,” grumbled Durehn. “She can get a short version.”

“She is but a child,” said Kendahl.

Louise laughed. Her bickering companions, the tasty food and the shelter of the tree was all representative of being safe. Louise could not contain her happiness. Her laughter stopped the elf and dwarf from the verbal quips.

“You two are hilarious,” she said. “You are just like the elves and dwarves my brother Tom speaks…” Louise faltered. “Tommy. Do you know how Tommy is? My family?”

“Your mother and father are safe in your realm,” said Kendahl. Her voice almost became a whisper. “Your brother, Thomas, is here in the Shadowland.”

Chapter Five

2011-12-25T07:33:00.000-08:00

Thomas stood in a gray wasteland. It looked like a desert scene from an old black and white movie. There were dusty hills and dunes, scrub trees with dark barren branches and dull crumpled mountains in the distance all under a tumultuous blanket of colorless clouds. Light battled the chilling gloom.

He slowly pivoted.

Leo, with his black leather jacket, seemed to be one of the features of the surrounding landscape. His fists were ready to fight. He was standing a step in front of Mason.

She was on her feet. Her fair skin seemed to radiate defiance in the gloom. Her eyes burned as the breeze pushed her blonde hair from her face. He could tell that her anger had surpassed her fear.

Off behind the two, in the horizon, there was a distant glow, or was it more of a suggestion of a glow. In the opposite direction, there was no hint of any friendly light, just more gray and darkness.

Mason stepped past Leo toward Thomas. Her squared shoulders were determined. When she was within arm’s reach, she spoke.

“Explain,” she said. Her voice was chilled.

Thomas stammered. His mind raced back through a playback. Mr. Williams had told Thomas that he had to find the door. He had to use “his fire” and go into the Shadow World to rescue his sister. Mr. Williams was going to help.

“Williams,” said Thomas.

“Williams?” said Leo. He appeared to Mason’s left. “He’s behind all this?”

“No,” said Tom. Leo had it wrong. “Williams is helping me.”

“Helping you get us killed,” said Leo. “He can’t be…”

Mason cut him off. “Behind all what?” she yelled. “What is the ‘this’? Where is this ‘this’?”

Thomas and Leo studied each other a moment. Williams had told Thomas much since he turned a piece of paper into ash in the classroom including that the Hand was deceitful and to trust only the paladin. Whoever, he was.

Thomas decided to be careful. “We are in the Shadow Realm. It is another place, a dimension.”

Mason nodded. “Go on,” she said.

Thomas blinked. Go on? He was not sure what else to say. It was about all he knew. “Uh, well,” he stammered. “Here is where we are? And, uh….”

Mason rolled her eyes. “Great.”

“I don’t know really,” said Thomas.

Mason cuffed Leo in the arm. “You seem all calm,” she said. “What do you know?”

Leo, a bit surprised by Mason’s attitude, stumbled for words. “Uh, well. It’s another place, like another planet.”

Mason turned away and yelled. “Aaah. I get that part.” She turned back to the confused boys. “I am not some idiot. I read. I know about planets, realms and magic and all that.” She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “You think I don’t know we are somewhere else?” She gestured at the landscape. “Du-uh?”

Thomas looked at the gritty ground and kicked at a dull clump of grass.

“Tell me more.” She stepped up to him. “Now.”

Thomas blinked. “My sister was taken by someone, or something. I came to get her. Williams said that I must find the Paladin.” Thomas cleared his throat. “Then, with the Paladin, and…” He stopped. He felt like he was saying too much.

“And?”

“And then I can rescue her,” said Thomas.

Mason’s eyes penetrated into his. Then she nodded. With a pivot, she turned on Leo. “Spill.”

Thomas watched Leo under her scrutiny. He, now, was under her scrutiny.

“I really can’t say…” Mason held up a hand.

“Think carefully,” she said, “then speak.”

Leo adjusted his jacket. “I am the Rogue,” he said.

“The what?”

“The Rogue,” he said. Leo lifted his chin. “I can open and close the doors.” He made a half attempt to point where the door was that they had just come through. I, too, am in the search of the Paladin.”

Mason cast a glance at Thomas. “The Paladin? Your sister?”

Thomas shrugged.

She turned back to Leo. “Who’s the Paladin?”

Leo shook his head. “I don’t know who he is either?”

Mason stepped back and looked at the sky. She rubbed her head. “Williams told Tom, here, to come to the Bowling Alley.” Her eyes settled on Leo. “Who told you?”

Leo half grinned. “Would you believe an elf?” His eyebrows rose, waiting for her to speak. When she did not speak, he said, “She said to bring you.”

Mason sighed and studied the clouds again. “At this point, I would believe just about anything.” Thomas watched as Leo relaxed. “But, wait” Her eyes settled back on Leo. He twitched. “She said to bring me?”

Thomas resisted the urge to back away. He did note that Leo took a half a step back. “Uh, yeah,” he said.

“So, our… date…” Her chin was firm, but her eyes faltered. “..was, just an excuse?”

Leo looked at Thomas.

Thomas half shrugged. As with the Shadow, this was new territory and did not have any help to offer Leo. Nor did he want to help him.

Mason turned away from them. Thomas watched her hand go to her face as if she were wiping away a tear. She crossed her arms and started to walk away.

“Uh, Mason,” he said.

“I need a moment alone, please.” Her words were heavy in the air.

Thomas, with a look at Leo, started to follow. Leo fell into step. They had to run to catch her. Thomas grabbed her shoulder.

“We should stick together,” he saud,

Mason turned. Her cheeks glistened with tears, but before she spoke, three swirls of gray dust rose from the ground around them. Each swirl condensed into a winged stony figure that reminded Thomas of a gargoyle.

“The Paladin,” the gargoyles said in unison. They’re voices sounded like tumbling dirt.

Mason let out a startled cry.

Leo swore.

Thomas, not knowing why, raised his right hand high in the air. It burst into flame.

“Be gone,” he said. His voice seemed thunderous in his ears.

The gargoyles hissed, “The light.” With another swirl, they disappeared into the gloom, leaving the three huddled close.

Chapter Four

2011-06-21T19:08:00.000-07:00

Ever since the “fire incident” last Friday, Mason’s name was pulled into the swirl of gossip and rumors. Kids she did not know would come up to her and ask, “So, what happened?” and “Were you scared?”

“I was startled,” she would say, but she was not afraid. It happened too fast to be afraid. As far as sitting next to Tom, he was okay. He never really bothered her, so she did not understand how the fire had damaged her.

“Oh Mason,” said Cindy. “What a tragedy? You will be associated with ‘DT’s burning down the school’.”

“He did not burn down the school.”

“Just about. The whole room was on fire.”

Mason frowned. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Brittany said it was.” Cindy’s eyes were big. “It is amazing that you were not all burned to a crisp.”

“It was just a piece of paper,” said Mason. “There were hardly any flames.”

“How would you know? There was too much smoke.”

Mason’s jaw dropped. “I was there!” Her blue eyes flared angrily. “And Brittany wasn’t”

“Her boyfriend was,” said Cindy. “He wouldn’t lie.”

Mason thought about all the times Brittany’s boyfriend had been caught in lies about who he flirted with and what happened at the Kiffmiller’s boat house with Sherri Stoltz.

“No,” she said, exasperated. “I guess he wouldn’t.” She slammed her locker shut. “I gotta go.”

As she walked away, she heard Cindy say, “What’s her problem?”

People can’t get their facts straight, thought Mason, that’s my problem.

And for the next three days, that was her problem; no one had their facts straight. She had been sitting next to Tom, he had a paper in his hand, the paper spontaneously erupted into flame, and there were ashes. That’s it. Nothing else. Nada.

So, Thursday lunch found her at a table alone, reading through an essay for Williams’ class. It was a passionate essay on the cruelty of misinformation, gossip and ignorance.

“Hey.”

Now what? Mason rolled her eyes. “Yeah?” Her eyes rolled up to the smiling face of Leo. She felt the red jump to her cheeks. “Uh, Hi.”

His eyes stayed friendly. “Hi,” he said. “Alone with your thoughts?”

“Yes.” Mason said quickly. “But, no. I guess, sort off.” Someone stop me. “I mean, I am just looking over an essay.”

“May I sit?”

“Yes, you may,” she said moving her tray away, hoping there was not anything gross left on her tray.

Leo sat. His brown eyes glinted before her.

“What are you writing?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing.” She giggled. Mason put the essay in her folder and placed the folder on the seat behind her. In doing so, she turned away from Leo. She scolded herself. Calm down, girl. And what’s with the giggle? She turned back to Leo.

“What about your classes?”

Leo huffed. “My classes? No one usually asks about my classes.”

Mason felt a tightening in her chest. Oops. She remained calm. Go for a joke. “No one asks because your classes are top secret.” She forced a laugh. Too high pitched.

He grinned. “Yeah,” he said. His eyes looked muddled. “Top secret.”

Then in stepped silence, bumbling and awkward.

“Well,” said Leo after a moment. His movements were jerky. “I was wondering…if you would like to maybe meet up at Avalon Lanes tomorrow. Bowl a game, have a cola, or…”

Mason laughed.

“What?” he said.

“You said ‘cola’.”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“No one says ‘cola’,” said Mason. “So, it caught me off guard.”

“Oh.”

“I would really love to have a cola.”

“Great.” He rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I should go.” He stood. Then he somehow went cool again. A lock of hair hung in his eyes. “See ya.”

And somehow, she went goofy in her head. “Yeah, yes, see you.”

She watched him go. As he past a table by the door, her eyes settled on Tom. He was alone and dark, hunched over his notepad. She studied him. She recalled his drawing of a dark hand drawing. He must have cared for his sister, and for her to disappear had to be devastating.

Then, out of the blue, Mr. Williams sat down with Tom who flinched. Mr. Williams’ face, which was usually smiling, was stern. His lips seemed tight and angry. He leaned into Tom who sank back. Mr. Williams tapped at the notepad. Tom nodded briefly. Mr. Williams looked about. Mason diverted her eyes but still watched as the man who she thought was very friendly, quickly leave a frightened Tom.

“So?” said Leo. “How was the cola?”

Mason had convinced her folks that she was meeting up with her friends, and they had dropped her off. She felt bad for bending the truth. Leo was a friend. A new friend who happened to be a boy and the only person who she was actually meeting that night, but a friend none-the-less. They had bowled. Then, they had sat at a table and had a cola. It was perfect.

“Very good,” she said. She felt bold, so she put on a French accent. “The bouquet was delicate, yet the flavor robust.”

Leo laughed. “Very well, mademoiselle,” he said, attempting the accent. “I am glad you liked it.”

Mason laughed with him as she checked the time on her cell phone.

“When do they pick you up?” He said still smiling.

“In twenty minutes.”

The dark lock of hair that had been dropping into his eyes, dropped again. “Let’s go outside and wait.”

“They won’t be here for…”

“We can be alone for fifteen,” he said. His eyes looked about the bowling alley. Mason looked about. Many kids were around, but not many were kids she really knew. Then it hit her. They would be alone. Heat rushed to her cheeks. For a moment, everything was blurred, but the cool air outside brought her around. She and Leo were outside the bowling alley. Not just outside the door, but off to the side, away from the doors.

Mason’s palms were slick. Not the most romantic setting.

Leo reached out his hand. “C’mon,” he said. “This way.”

She took his hand. Something in her head said not to go, but another voice yelled go.

He led her around to the back. There was one light at the farther corner. Mason felt an urge to move toward the light.

“Okay,” said Leo. “I brought her.”

Mason jumped. With her a shadow stepped out from the wall. It was Tom. The three froze in surprise. Mason could not process the moment, the presence of Tom and Leo’s words.

Tom spoke; his voice sounded alien.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re not suppose to be here,” said Leo.

Mason, realizing she was holding Leo’s hand, pulled hers away. “What is going on?”

“Nothing, really,” said Leo. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Like hell,” said Tom. “Mason, go.”

Leo grabbed her sleeve. “Wait.” His eyes were shadowed in the poor light. “I can explain.”

Mason wanted to run, but she was held to her spot. The wind started to swirl. Tom squatted into a fighting posture with his back to the wall.

“It’s back,” he yelled. “Both of you should leave.”

“What’s back?” Mason looked about.

Not far from the three of them, what looked like a door opened in the middle of the darkness. Beyond was a smear of shadows of another earth and sky. The air around them gained momentum.

“Leave,” yelled Tom. “I have to do this. I have to go get my sister.” He moved toward the door.

Mason, without really thinking, broke away from Leo.

“You can’t do this!” Again her inner voice was yelling to run. She grabbed Tom’s arm.

He flung her away. “I have to.”

Mason fell to the ground. The turbulent air moved away from her creating a circular wall around her, Tom, Leo and the door…. and Mr. Williams.

He had stepped out of the mass of moving, spinning debris and dust. He held his hands out to the side as if pushing against the wind. His teeth were gritted. Blood dripped from his forehead.

“You…must…go,” he said.

Leo picked up Mason and retreated from Mr. Williams. He stopped by Tom.

“The Hand…leave, now.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Safe.”

Tom grabbed Leo and shoved him toward the shadow door. Leo pulled Mason with him and stepped through the door. Mason tumbled to the ground in the sudden quiet of the next plane. She looked the way they had come. Tom was facing in Williams’ direction. His hand was a flame. He raised it. The fire looked like a ball. Tom, framed in the doorway of the two planes, threw the fireball out of her vision and jumped through the door. There was a whoosh of air. Then silence.

Chapter Three

2011-04-03T14:22:00.000-07:00

Chapter Three

Louise shrugged into her shawl against the cold.

She gritted her teeth to fight off the shiver building in her spine, but it tingled up her back and into her neck and jaw. Her teeth chattered. An icy tear ran down her cheek.

The dim light in her cell did not bother her. Nor did the strange noises from the hall. She even accepted “Long Fingers,” her jailor, who’s gnarled long fingers slid her coarse bread and sour cheese under the door. But, the cold was beating her. It gnawed into her skin and wormed through her muscles to her bones causing everything to ache.

After the tremor shook through her body, Louise tried to occupy her mind.

First, she squinted at the base of the door. The shallow iron plate that held her daily meal had not yet been retrieved, so the cycle had not been complete. The day, as she defined it, was not over yet. She only guessed that the food was provided in the morning, and the bowl was taken in the evening, but it was the only routine or occurrence she could use to judge the passage of time. Even if she was wrong, she was able to measure her perceived day.

Louise studied the light from under the door next. It was always faint, and it seemed to flicker as if the source, a fire she guessed, was far away and nothing more then a reflection. It was never more than enough to make out the bottom of the door, the floor and a dark shadow of her plate. It never came close, even when the Long Fingers did his prescribed duties.

However, now, it actually glimmered a moment, and then darkened as something passed before it. After the shadow passed, the light was definitely moving closer. It was brighter.

Was there a whisper?

Louise held her breath. It had to be Tom. She knew her brother would come for her. Light sputtered under the door like flames. Louise squinted. Her eyes watered.

A new sound greeted her ears. It was metal on metal, like a key into a lock, moving slowly. Because of the hushed, delicate sounds, Louise could only suppose rescue.

The door clicked and slowly opened. In the blaze of light, Louise gasped.

“Tommy?”

She made out two silhouettes in the doorway as her eyes desperately tried to focus. One was thin and taller than the short, stout shape.

“My lady,” said a woman in a hushed voice.

Louise stammered, not sure if she was being addressed. “W-who?”

“Are you the Lady Louise?” The voice, faint, melodious in tone, asked.

Lady Louise? She warily rose to her feet. “I am Louise,” she said carefully.

Her eyes started to make out the woman that spoke. She was not much taller than Louise. The woman smiled.

“Come my Lady,” she said. “We are here to take you away.”

Louise did not move. Too much was coming at her. The round figure next to the woman was a face full of hair and was holding an axe. He spoke.

“She exercises good judgment by not trusting an elf such as you,” he said gruffly.

The woman turned toward her shorter counterpart; pointed ears poked out from her dark hair. “Master Dwarf, it may be the brandishing of your axe that makes her reluctant to come forward.”

Louise’s mind swirled. Too much light. Her knees buckled; her eyes blurred and went dark.

Chapter Two

2011-03-24T13:26:00.000-07:00

Thomas was alone.

At the foster home, he was just another kid. With Louise missing, everything was missing. Laughter and conversation had been taken by the dark hand. Even arguing and slamming doors were missed. The house was one long dreary day.

He missed his Mom and Dad; it was more the memory of them, a life distant and vague. The hand took more than Louise.

School was worse. From day one, the other kids avoided him. He was known as “Delusional Tom.” Some called him “Crazy Tom.” It was almost amusing how the different groups could not decide on what to call him: DT, CT or that kid. Almost amusing.

The girl, Mason, who sat next to him in English, was the only one that bothers to give him a smile, every day for the first five days of school. It’s a polite smile, courteous, hiding her fear, but a smile nonetheless.

All week, teachers and counselors were all “Hey, Tom,” and “How’s it going?” and “We should try to take some steps.” They were concerned, but distant. “It’s a tragedy what happened.” Yet, he knew, that like the kids, they had heard his story of the door, the shadow world and the hand. They had that look in their eye of concern and of suspicion. He’s heard them whisper too, and he caught words like “therapy,” “mental trauma,” “blocking out reality,” and “Could it be drugs?”

Williams, however, was just clueless. He talked to Tom as if nothing had ever happened. “Hey, Tom,” he would say. “Your journal mentioned a hand grabbing and hitting. I like the metaphor. You should work with that more.” What the hell is that all about?

It came down to one thing. No one believed him.

He was alone.

And that’s what he was writing in his journal, “I am alone.” He had written it over and over, and without realizing it, the words became a hand, dark and mighty, grabbing Louise. He had drawn he picture again.

Tom looked out from the corner of his eye. Her face was afraid. Yet, he also recalled how she had been defiant too. She had not gone “quietly into that good night” as Williams said the other day. But, that was about someone dying. She was fighting. She had not given up.

Nor would he. But, what could he do? He felt hopeless.

Tom looked at his drawing of the hand below the words, “I am alone.”

Where did it come from? Where did it go?

He felt anger rising up into him. Heat flushed into his head. He felt it prickle down into his neck and shoulders. It was burning. He felt it, but he knew it was not real. The sensation of heat moved down his arms. They throbbed. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The surge of heat moved into his hands, then to his fingers. His fingertips itched with pinpricks of heat.

Fire flashed where his fingers held his paper. He heard a shriek, but his eyes remained on the flame incinerating the drawing.

“Tom,” said a voice.

He did not move. All he could see was some wisps of smoke and ash.

Chapter One

2011-03-05T19:23:00.000-08:00

Although most of her first day of high school had been a blur of new teachers, books and which friends would be in which classes, Mason Walker had dreaded the arrival of seventh period English, a place where freshman die waiting for the last bell of the day to ring.

Her brother of five years older had tormented her with the legendary torture of “Worksheet Williams,” the one teacher she should avoid at all costs. In the morning, her schedule had brought a smile to her face because she had been assigned Wilcox during fifth period. Mason had heard good things about her and was relieved that she had avoided Williams.

However, at the end of fifth period Civics, she was called to the office. There, her life had been rearranged. It was attempt “to balance” some class-loads of teachers. The kind-hearted counselor’s big brown eyes had looked apologetic.

“Here you go sweetie,” she had said and handed Mason a schedule.

Williams was printed boldly in the seventh period slot. Mason was distraught. The counselor buzzed some words about teachers and the changes and hustled Mason out the door.

“The first day here is always hectic,” she had said. “And the new scheduling program is goofy. Good luck, sweetie.”

Good luck, had thought Mason. I get Worksheet Williams and you say ‘good luck’? She looked at her schedule. For sixth period, she had to go to Algebra again. And you call me Sweetie?

Therefore in her dreaded approach to room 161, the classic curse of collision her notebook and pen occurred. This, however, was rectified, in Mason’s eyes, with the classic romantic of her notebook being handed to her by a dark curly-headed boy that she had not seen before.

He had wore a faded denim jacket, and there was a shadow of a bruise around his left eye.

“Here you go.” He smiled warmly. “The hallways can be crazy.”

“Uh, yeah,” she stammered. Her cheeks felt hot. “Crazy.” She took her notebook. “Uh, thanks…”

“Leo,” he said.

“…Leo,” she repeated. The bell rang. “Oh crud.”

His eyes crinkled. “Don’t sweat it,” he said as he moved past her. “Most teachers are cool the first day.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Two steps further she heard him say, “Unless…” Mason looked over her shoulder. “…you got Williams.”

Mason’s smile turned to a grimace as she turned back to 161.

Carefully, she approached the door. The class was seated and students were talking quietly. The room was full of tables, chairs and students. Books and boxes were scattered about along the walls. It seemed that the room was in some kind of reconstruction. Two bulletin boards were sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. The was an extra large trash barrel just inside the door.

“Please move on in,” said a voice from behind.

Mason stepped to the side. “Sorry,” she said quickly.

In walked a man carrying a box with books. He handed it to Mason. “Set that by the wall, would you?”

Mason juggled the box in her arms along with her notebook and set it by the wall. The man went to the white dry erase board.

He pointed to the board where it read Williams.

“I am Mr. Williams,” he said. “I will be your freshman English teacher.”

The class was silent. Stunned, actually, a bewildered, good kind of stunned.

He stood proudly in front of all of them. He wore a gray tweed jacket, a black crew neck shirt and blue jeans. His hair was light from a mix of blond going gray. He had a goatee and odd colored hazel eyes.

He looked at Mason. “Thanks,” he said. “I think there is a seat over at that table.”

Mason nodded. She quickly went to the table and sat down. Then it hit her. She was sitting with D.T. He wore a dark shirt, grungy jeans and sat in a slumped position with one arm in the middle of the table. He did not move his arm when Mason sat, so she felt crowded.

Mr. Williams, once she was seated, went into motion.

“As you can tell,” he said, “I am not the Williams you were expected. She had a stroke of good luck with the Lotto two days ago and changed her life plans rather suddenly. I am happy for her and for me, since now I can be your teacher.”

He went to the board.

“Let’s get started.”

He turned and wrote, “What’s on your mind?”

With a whirl, he moved among the tables. “Get out some paper and a pen. You will now write for fifteen minutes ‘What’s on your mind?’” He stopped, noting that no one moved. “Let’s go. Paper over there. I have extra pens on my desk.” The room broke into motion. Kids got up and grab paper, some grabbed pens, and most, like Mason, opened their notebooks.

“What do we write about?” said someone.

He was moving again. “What ever is on your mind as long as the pen doesn’t stop.” He swung by D.T. and Mason. “Just keep writing, even if the same line repeats over and over, keep writing it.” He got to his desk. He sat down and started writing too. Mason noticed that some kids watched him for a minute. Two girls started to whisper.

He growled. “No talking. I am trying to write.”

Some kids laughed. He growled again. It quieted, and all were writing.

Mason took her pen to her pad. She wrote about the day, but mostly the curly-headed boy that had picked up her notebook. She wrote how she thought he was definitely older, and he how he had a bad boy prince personality. She laughed quietly. She knew it was a little silly, but that what was on her mind. Her writing took on a creative angle as she found herself writing about the boy’s troubled past in another country.

She flinched when Mr. Williams yelled, “Times Up.”

Kids all over the room were grinning, nodding or flexing their hands. There was a buzz of voices.

“Let’s share.” The buzz died instantly.

Mason casually covered her notebook with her arms.

“I will go first,” said Williams.

And off he went. He wrote from the perspective of a student sitting in class wondering who the new teacher was that told everyone to write. He even wrote, “Who the hell is this Williams guy, and why the is he making us write so much?”

Kids laughed at what he wrote. It was clever. It sounded like a ninth grade kid wrote it, bad grammar and slang included.

When he finished, he looked about the room. Everyone was quiet. He said, “Thank you for letting me share.” He nodded. “When we do a free writing like we just did, we will share. No comments will be made, just a ‘Thank you for sharing’ will be given, and then we move on.” He paused, eyeing the class some more. “Who wants to share?”

Four hands went up.

Mason inadvertently glanced at D.T. and his paper; he only had written a sentence or two. The rest of the page was a drawing that sent a chill over Mason. It was of a dark hand reaching out of a door in the middle of a neighborhood and grabbing a girl.

Prologue

2011-03-05T19:12:00.000-08:00

It was not dark yet, but Louise was afraid.
She was at house number three, at the corner, then four houses down. Her and Autymn were seven houses a part. Seven was Louise’s lucky number, so when she had moved in with her foster parents, it made sense that she would make friends with Autymn.

Yet, as she rounded the corner, a chill ran up her spine. She had insisted that she could walk home by herself. She was ten, and she had done it before, so why was this evening different. Not to worry, she could always run. Her house was just three away. Louise could see her brother playing basketball in the driveway.

There was a shudder of air, maybe a ‘whoosh’ sound from behind. A blast of cold hit her back and swirled about in front of her. She stopped. The cold air seemed to take the shape of a hand. It moved toward her and pushed against her. Something whispered to her.

“Turn around.”

Slowly, with her body against the translucent hand, Louise pivoted to look behind her.

In the center of the sidewalk was a dark rectangle, like a door. It was as if a picture of another place appeared where there should have been a sidewalk, grass, the neighborhood and sky should be. The setting in the door was dreary with fog and shadowed ground of a heavy forest. It stood in sharp contrast to the pleasant neighborhood Louise was familiar with.

Something within moved.

“Louise,” said the whisper. “Come to me, Louise.”

And Louise, a smart girl, summoned her courage and said, “No.” She twisted against the invisible hand and put her shoulder into the palm and pushed. She made three steps. Through the hand, as if looking through a plastic bottle, Louise could see her brother running out of the yard toward her. He was too far.

“Hold on Louise,” he was yelling. It sounded like it was in her head.

Her eyes blurred from the tears of exertion against the hand.

Again she heard his voice. “Fight, Louise. Fight.”

Anger welled and she punched against the hand. It wavered back, and she took another step. Her brothers distorted form was closer. He looked as if he to were pushing against something. She punched again. This time the hand did not move. A thought flashed into her mind.

Louise put her back against the hand, counted to three, then dove forward onto the rough cement of the sidewalk. The cold hand rushed over her and into the dark door. Thunder rumbled from inside. In a flash, Louise jumped back to feet as a ‘Ha-ha’ broke from her grinning mouth.

She ran to toward her brother. He was struggling against the other hand when it seemed to darken as it solidified into dirty water. It became stronger. It knocked him to the ground. Then, as if he were a bug, it raised up high and came smashing down upon him with a hard slap of water on cement.

Louise screamed. Her brother laid motionless in the receding puddle.

From behind, out of the door, came another dark hard that seized her and pulled her away. In another swirl of wind, the door shut.

The only sound left was a skittering of a few innocent leaves in a dying breeze.