was chanting something aloud to herself. As long as the Shifting Fortress remained hidden, Paksahara would be undefeatable. Aldwyn knew they couldn’t let that happen: they had to bring the seven descendants of the First Phylum together in a circle around one of the glyphstones to summon the Fortress. Only then could they attack the evil hare and strip her of her powers.
Aldwyn turned back to his companions and saw that some of the sand kicked up by the spyballs had gotten into Gilbert’s eyes and nose. The tree frog’s eyes bulged as he struggled not to sneeze. Aldwyn put a paw up to his friend’s mouth, and Skylar threw a wing over his nose. Gilbert’s chest puffed up and his eyes watered as they continued to muffle him. Luckily, before Gilbert lost all control, the eyeballs took to the air. Aldwyn and Skylar waited until the winged spies had disappeared over the horizon. As soon as they removed paw and wing, Gilbert let out a thunderous sneeze.
“You know, they say holding back a sneeze can be very dangerous,” said Gilbert. “It can make the veins in your head pop.”
“You know what else can be very dangerous?” asked Skylar. “Having Paksahara hunt you down and kill you.”
“True,” said Gilbert. “I’m just saying that spontaneous brain explosion would not be a fun way to go.”
“I saw Paksahara,” interrupted Aldwyn.
“What?” asked a panicked Gilbert. “Where?” He spun around on high alert, as if the grey hare might sneak up on him at any moment.
“Through the spyball,” said Aldwyn. “She was in the Shifting Fortress, pouring a black powder into a summoning horn.”
“She must have been raising more animals from their graves to fight in her army of the dead,” said Skylar.
The blue jay dispelled her illusion before turning to the loyals.
“We need to get you to that cellar,” she said. “Paksahara’s army is growing stronger.”
Passing through a field of sweet-smelling berries, Aldwyn knew they were getting close to Stone Runlet. The tiny stream that gave the place its name came into view, and soon afterwards, they spotted what had once been Kalstaff’s cottage. Aldwyn looked on it with a heavy heart. He’d lived in the old wizard’s peaceful home for magical learning and study before it was reduced to rubble during a battle between Kalstaff and Paksahara. On that fateful night, Paksahara had arrived in the guise of Queen Loranella to kidnap the three loyals. Kalstaff tried to stop her, but Paksahara was too powerful, sending him to the Tomorrowlife with a deadly blow.
“When my magic returns, I’m going to rebuild this cottage,” said Marianne, choking up.
Dalton took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“We’ve got to get you down to the cellar,” said Skylar. “We’ve been lucky so far, but who knows when another flock of spyballs will pass overhead.”
They hurried through the tall grass towards the pair of iron doors that marked the entrance to the underground hideaway. The metal cellar bolt was sealed shut from the rusting bond Paksahara had cast during her battle with Kalstaff. Skylar dipped her wing into her satchel and removed some ground glow worm. She sprinkled it on the latch and waited as it ate through the rust.
“We’ll make sure the warding spells are still active,” said Skylar. “Then the three of us will be on our way.”
Jack pulled open the doors and everyone went inside. Nearing the bottom of the stairs, there was a noticeable drop in temperature, and the creamy orange-and-white-speckled walls became cool to the touch. Jugs of persimmon wine and barrels of dilled apples were stored in neat rows along with pickled corn and radish cider.
“At least we won’t go hungry,” said Marianne.
“But we might suffocate if Jack can’t take a bath,” said Dalton, teasing the younger wizard.
Jack smiled good-naturedly, taking the ribbing in stride. Aldwyn thought that Jack might be the youngest now, but in a few years his magic would outshine both Dalton’s and Marianne’s – assuming human magic returned, of course. Then he’d be the one making the jokes.
Skylar dipped a wing back into her satchel and blew a plume of silver dust into the air, incanting, “Dust of Eckles, knowledge calls, use your gift and search the walls!”
The tiny cloud of particles spread far and wide, covering every inch of the four alabaster walls and the ceiling.
“If there are any cracks in the magic seal that protects this chamber, this will expose them,” explained Skylar.
All the walls glowed brightly when the enchanted dust came into contact with them. Even the two iron doors sparkled with the distinct golden hue of wizardly protection. Aldwyn was satisfied that Jack and the other loyals would be safe here, until Gilbert piped up from over by the pickled corn.
“Um, guys,” he croaked. “Why is this part of the wall charred black?”
Everyone turned to look, and sure enough, there on one of the four alabaster walls, behind all the glow, they could see the grey outline of an archway.
“It looks like a hidden chamber,” said Dalton.
He leaned his shoulder against the wall and pushed open a secret doorway, revealing a second room of equal size built just behind the first. Although the dimensions were identical, the items housed within were anything but. In place of food rations, there were relics from Kalstaff’s younger years: not only dusty tomes but chain mail robes scuffed from battle and the twin swords wielded by Kalstaff when the first Dead Army had tried to conquer the land many, many years ago.
A particularly ominous-looking suit of armour was mounted on the wall. Just glancing at it made Aldwyn’s fur stand on end. It was the colour of bone, and a cool steam emanated from its faceplate, as if something within was still breathing. A smoky diamond was embedded in the forehead of the mask and there were three other indentations: one in each glove and a third in the chest piece, where matching diamonds must have once been placed. Aldwyn was surprised to recognise the helmet. He had seen it before in a whistlegrass vision, while following his father’s glowing paw prints in search of the Crown of the Snow Leopard. The vision formed by the enchanted blades of grass was of the original Dead Army Uprising. And the helmet had been worn by one of the dark mages leading the undead, Wyvern or Skull; Aldwyn wasn’t sure which, but either way, he could feel the pull of evil from the accursed armour.
Aldwyn wasn’t the only one awed by the hidden treasures of their former teacher. Skylar was slowly flying along the bookshelf, reading each of the titles. Gilbert eyed vials of unlabelled potions, then asked the question Aldwyn had been thinking.
“Why would Kalstaff keep all this stuff a secret?” Gilbert looked around curiously.
“Maybe he was protecting us,” said Marianne.
“From what?” asked Gilbert.
That creepy helmet, for starters, Aldwyn thought.
At the far end of the chamber was a writing desk where Aldwyn’s eyes were drawn to something dangling over the edge of a jewellery box: a silver anklet embedded with squares of emerald. Only the Noctonati, a secret sect of knowledge seekers to which Skylar also belonged, wore them. These humans and animals believed learning magic and searching for answers to all of life’s mysteries
