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  “You can leave,” she called back. “It’s going to be fine. Come on.”

  The little black mass of robes and white hair came forward grudgingly as if not by his own accord.

  As he passed Amdusius, the lizard said softly, “Do not think her identity is hidden from me.”

  To Clare’s great relief, they were all soon on the next plane away from the wretched lizard and the awful music he played.

  The farmland surrounding Calimorden was lush and beautiful. Before they went down the other side of the mountain, the pack of centaurs, all but their leader, bid them farewell and returned to the pilgrimage.

  As they neared the bottom of the mountains and got below the timberline, Clare spotted several creatures she thought she recognized. A large bird with feathers like fire soared over them and piped a tune to its hidden fellows. In a clearing to the left, a dazzling unicorn solemnly watched them pass. She wondered if all these were special creatures like she’d read them to be and suddenly wanted more than ever to save this world.

  Outside in the fields, a few workers could be seen. Fences lined every homestead and each worker was armed and grave-looking.

  Clare asked Prince Gwen. “Why does everyone look so tense?”

  “These are defenses against norcan, barbarians, and other unpleasant raiders,” Gwen said with no effort to hide the malice in his voice.

  The city around the castle was thriving and exactly how Clare had imagined a fantasy city she’d be queen of. Cobbled roads led to all the shops, inns, and taverns where musicians were playing lively melodies for coins and food. In the streets, the rural vendors were selling their wares to the rich city-dwellers. Deeper into the center was a massive sparkling blue moat that surrounded a white palace.

  Only the prince, the under elf, and the head centaur entered the palace walls. The guards had to have special orders from the prince to allow the little elf through the gate. The prince led them through marble halls and golden rooms to a set of great doors. Soon they were outside the throne room about to be announced.

  “What am I supposed to say to your mother?” Clare asked the prince. “I mean, I have no idea why I’m here or what I’m supposed to do.”

  “In time,” the prince reassured her. “You will know in a moment. She will not be pleased to see me at this time.”

  Clare looked down at her elf. He looked even whiter in the sunlight of the day and more solemn than usual.

  “He has never known any plane but the Nether,” the centaur explained. “Unlike us, under elves cannot travel between the planes often.”

  “I am sure he will not be ridiculed or shown prejudice to,” Clare said pointedly to the centaur woman.

  The doors opened and the small band was led into a large circular throne room by two guards clad in white armor. The room matched the rest of the white and gold finery of the palace. Lining the walls were open windows that were nearly floor to ceiling and looked out over the thriving kingdom of Calimorden. At the head of the room was a great golden throne with an old, but beautiful woman seated in its great depths. She tried to hold herself tall, but age and worry had made her weak.

  “What darkness is this?” she called out through the room. “An under elf in my court and my dead son back to haunt me!”

  The prince bowed. “I know our parting was not what it should have been, mother, but I have come back and brought Clare. An earthling.”

  With the last word, the old queen gasped and rose from her seat, clutching her heart. “An earthling? Is it true? It cannot be. Earthlings are a thing of stories and dreams.” She sat back down in despair. “It has been ages in this world since an earthling has successfully aided us. Hardly any are left alive who have faith in them.”

  Clare made an awkward curtsy in her tunic. “I suppose I’m here to help. But there is so much I don’t understand.”

  “And there is little to understand,” the queen said. Her eyes were fixed on the prince still. “Earthlings come to save us from another world and fail like our own champions. Now we are driven to our own devices. Are you real?”

  “I am.” Clare laughed a little. “I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming. I think I hit my head. So, I’m some special earthling warrior come to save you?”

  “It rarely works that way. Only one earthling has been to our kingdom in my lifetime and nothing changed then.” The queen held her head high. “How did you come here?”

  Clare shuffled her feet awkwardly and self-consciously crossed her arms. “Well, I was in the woods when I fell and met your son… Wait.” Her face scrunched up in confusion. “Back from the dead?” she asked.

  “The great Umbra demands sacrifice,” the queen said. “Do not judge me, earthling. All the seven planes offer sacrifice to the great Umbra. I do what I must for my people.”

  Clare’s jaw dropped open in horror. “You sent your only son to the Nether Plane? Do you have any idea what might have happened to him there?”

  “And he comes back with a villainous under elf! The Nether Plane is its home. Send it back!” The queen was falling into hysterics. Her voice was quivering and she collapsed back into her throne. “Guards, seize the vile creature and take it away!”

  “No!” Clare firmly took hold of the elf’s upper arm and held him close to her. “He’s in my debt and I need his help.”

  The guards halted.

  “You all need my help.” She relaxed a little and looked down to meet the elf’s upturned gaze. He was not harboring so much malice in his eyes any more. She smiled and something of a twinkle went off behind his mysterious eyes. “I think I know what I need to do now.” She stood up tall. “Queen Zephyr,” she named the queen and felt that flush of courage again, “your people cannot live in fear of Umbra. You need your son and should never have sacrificed him. Prince Gwen is necessary to this land, its people, and the survival of this world.”

  All eyes were on her as she spoke. No one dared interrupt an earthling who had found her purpose, except the faithless queen.

  “I want to know if you are an earthling.” She began to tap her long nails annoyingly on her alabaster throne. “You knew my name, but I never told you. Sorcery or earthling magic. I’ve seen what it does to people from your world. It destroys them slowly, changes them so they cannot go back.”

  “Okay,” Clare shrugged. “Then help me so I don’t have to use magic. I need to know what exactly is happening in this world,” she said. Her strength was growing with every word. “Prince Gwen, what are the seven planes?”

  Gwen nodded his head to his mother as she gave him her consent to speak. He was not as proud in her presence as he had been in the Nether.

  “If it pleases the earthling,” the prince started. “This is Calimorden, the last remaining civilized human kingdom on this plane. Over the years, creatures from the Nether,” his eyes flitted only a moment to the black-clad elf, “have risen up on the great Umbra’s command and struck our cities, killing our people and taking our resources. Not just the spider-lizards and the wyverns, but the under elves and the undead have raided our golden halls by Umbra’s magic.”

  “The centaurs as well,” the female centaur added. “We are a roaming people and do not put the same value on home as the humans, but it has not stopped our numbers from diminishing. New and fouler things leap up from the Nether Plane daily.”

  Clare nodded. “Calimorden would know of every attack then?”

  “Yes,” Gwen said. “They have to come through this plane to reach the next.”

  Calimorden was important then. If the fiends from the Nether Plane could overtake it, they would have a base camp closer to the next plane. Perhaps the great Umbra wanted Calimorden for itself?

  “What could the great Umbra hope to gain from destroying Calimorden?” Clare asked.

  Before queen Zephyr or the prince could answer, the under elf let out a war cry and pulled two hidden blades from his black robes. Following his cry was a great roar Clare had never heard before. Turning her eyes to the ope
n walls of the throne room, she saw the huge winged form of the only thing that could have made such a sound.

  “Dragon!” the centaur shrieked. She took her bow from her back and quickly aimed at the beast’s fiery eyes.

  The dragon was massive. Its forelegs were knotted with muscles and black claws. Its grey skin was rough and firmly calloused. Horns and spikes decorated its back and head. Its nostrils flared and huffed and Clare smelled something she could only describe as burning or molten rock; it was a putrid smell.

  White guards flooded the throne room and the queen was quickly whisked away to safety. Gwen valiantly drew his sword and stood before Clare. The other centaurs appeared and began to shoot at the dragon’s sensitive eyes.

  “We must get you to safety,” Gwen called to Clare over the dragon’s roars.

  “Wait!” Clare pulled away from him. Earthling magic, she thought to herself. Maybe it would work on the grey dragon.

  The huge yellow eyes fixed on her and it spoke, “Your magic will not work on me!”

  Frightened, Clare ducked away with Gwen. The door was a good sprint away, but they had to chance it. The elf ran first, war-crying to the dragon to distract it. Clare had not asked him to do this, he just did. The act rang in her heart. Then she made a dash for the exit, but not fast enough. The huge claw of the dragon burst into the room, slamming onto the floor causing it to rift, crack, and finally crumble under Clare, Gwen, and the elf. The centaur had moved closer to the dragon and was attempting stabs with her sword.

  Clare tumbled and flipped on the broken marble floor, her heels wheeling over her head as she did. With a sudden desperate grab, she managed to hold onto the floor as her legs and boots swung in the air above a pit she could not see the bottom of.

  “Clare!” Gwen called. “Hold on!” He was bleeding badly from where the dragon’s claw had raked across his chest.

  Seeing her hanging there, the dragon reached in again, aiming at Clare. In a black blur, the elf took up Gwen’s broadsword, far too large for him, and held it out to ward off the dragon. He stood firmly between Clare and the beast.

  Her fingers seared with the pain of holding on and the dragon’s breath was burning her lungs as she panted. With one more rumble of the tower room, her grasp slipped and she screamed as she held on with only one hand over the vast pit.

  The elf heard her cry and threw aside the sword. He ran and fell to his knees, grasping her hand in his little ones.

  “Clare, hold on!” he yelled over the commotion. “Climb, I can’t hold you!”

  She grunted and tried to heave herself up, but failed, sliding a little further down and pulling the elf with her. She looked up to meet his eyes for what she thought may be the last time. His eyes were lined with black coal and his lashes were long and elegant. His slender hands had black paint on his long nails. His white hair reminded her of someone as she at last slipped from between his little fingers. She watched his horrified black eyes widen as she fell.

  Somewhere above, Gwen called her name in desperation over the last roar of the grey dragon. He had found his hope in this earthling and now Calimorden was in danger.

  Chapter 6

  Real Life

  Clare shot upright instantly as the creek water trickled in and out of her ears for probably the hundredth time. Her eyes took a moment to adjust in the dark. The moon was high overhead and the evening creatures were singing their lullabies. In the distance, the city hummed and roared with night light. The clouds above were tinged orange from the city lights. A siren was going off not too far away.

  Clare stood up and brushed her soft cotton leggings, feeling the cold air seeping through. They were no longer tanned leather. She looked around and recognized the familiar woods of her game.

  “The sun has gone down!” she gasped. “I must have been gone for hours.”

  She stopped to think. It was morning when they had arrived. When she fell, it couldn’t have been much later, but in that weird dream, or whatever it was, it had been night. It was as if time was backwards in the dream world. It only made sense that now it was night when it was day in Calimorden.

  “No,” Clare sighed lightly banging her head with her fist. “Don’t think about that. At least not like that. Didn’t happen. A dream.”

  She took a step and turned her ankle on something slick and made of glass. After falling onto her backside on some sharp rocks, she reached out and took up the bottle. Inside was a black scroll. It was the parchment of sins the spider-lizard Amdusius had given her. It was still there! It must have been real. Or at least on some plane of reality.

  Close by, the sound of panicking, screaming people crashing through the underbrush alerted her to her friends’ presence. About a dozen beams of light swung back and forth in the trees and all different voices called her name.

  “I’m over here!” she called. “I hurt my ankle and I can’t get up.”

  The whole of Sun Age seemed to be out looking for her, led by Al. He dashed to her and fell to her side, throwing his woolen jacket over her. She was very quickly surrounded by lights and panicked voices. Jeff arrived next with his mother and a first-aid kit.

  “Clare!” Jeff’s mom breathed in relief. “Do you have any idea how scared everyone was for you? Are you hurt, child?” She was the perfect woman to have worry for you. She never overdid it, was always comforting, and believed in hot coco afterwards with a passion. “Let’s get to the camp. Do you need the police? We very nearly called the park rangers after you.”

  “I’m so sorry, everyone,” she said. Tears rimmed her eyes as she saw the horrified looks on every one’s faces. Al helped her up, putting his arm around her to help her stand.

  “Clare!” Alice and Stella burst to the front and threw their arms around her.

  “We were so worried! I was crying my eyes out for you,” Alice said. She did indeed look as though she’d been crying. She was wearing a heavy coat over her Barbarian costume.

  “What on earth were you doing?” Stella demanded. “We thought you were dead.”

  Clare laughed at her overdramatic friend and hugged them both again. If they had been worried, wait until they heard about the dragon.

  In the crowd, she quickly found Lance’s relieved face and near the back, a whitehaired boy in black robes. She looked twice as her heart skipped to find Max there. She pulled away from Al enough to put one arm around her goth friend and hugged him tightly.

  “Clare,” Max tried to speak. He had dark tracks leading from his black-rimmed eyes to his chin.

  “Shh,” Clare whispered, squeezing him again. “You may want to go wash up before someone sees.”

  Max blushed furiously that Clare had noticed. He consciously put his hands up to his face and tried to drift back into the crowd, but Lance threw his strong arm around Max’s narrow shoulders and smiled, knuckling his white wig with manly affection.

  “We’re all glad you’re safe, Clare,” he said. He smiled at her and discreetly passed Max a handkerchief from his coat pocket to wipe his face with.

  Clare watched as Lance faded back into the crowd with his arm protectively around Max. Despite the cold, she felt a warm glow in her heart.

  “Hey,” Al said, waving his hand in front of her face. “Let’s get you dried off and warm, shall we?”

  “To the camp!” Jeff’s mom called out. “And let’s get you taken care of,” she said to Clare.

  Around the campfire, the kids drank sweet hot chocolate after they all got a thorough scolding from Jeff’s mom about traveling in groups and not wandering off. She threatened to end her reign as guard mother and prevent the next camping expedition, but everyone knew she was simply raging for effect.

  Clare sat between Stella and Alice, who had lent her fur cloak to Clare. Stella had her head resting on Clare’s shoulder as they all meditated on the fire while Jeff played his penny whistle just outside the ring of firelight. Alice hummed quietly to herself in harmony with the pretty melody.

  The stars above were
brighter here than in the city. Looking up, Clare wondered if beyond those stars was another plane. Or if her world was a plane among many others. What if someone from another plane crossed over in to her world and helped her on some quest? Like midterms, she thought to herself. She thought about writing of her adventure in her journal. Then someday, someone could read what had happened to her. Maybe someone outside her plane of reality.

  “You awake?” Stella said softly.

  Clare realized her head was tilted all the way back and she had been close to dreaming.

  “Oh, sorry,” she laughed, sitting upright. “Just thinking.”

  “About what?” Alice asked at the same Stella said, “About who?”

  Clare laughed quietly. “School. And no one,” she mumbled through gritted teeth to Stella.

  All three girls stole a glance across the fire to where Al was discreetly watching them over the top of his glasses.

  “He’s never going to give up,” Stella smiled. “Why won’t you just date until school’s over? That’s not so bad.”

  What was Clare supposed to say? She’d made her point very clear at the beginning of the year; there was no dating her friends who participated in the game. That was just her rule. And it was the only excuse she could think of. Really, she just didn’t like Al like that. At all. Why was that so hard to people to understand? She always had to have excuses.

  “School first,” Clare bluffed. “And I have a job, unlike Al.”

  “And unlike you, Stella,” Alice reminded her. “And speaking of boys.”

  Stella groaned and leaned forward in a weak attempt to leave Alice behind her.

  “Why do you keep flirting with Max?” Alice sounded like a judge about to sentence a prisoner to life in jail.

  “I can’t help that the little freak is so cute.” She shrugged far too casually for such a serious accusation. “It’s fun. Everyone wants a little dangerous crush now and then.”

  “Dangerous?” Clare laughed. “Have you met Max?”