A Yurble stole my cinnamon roll! Circulation: 174,678,845 Issue: 383 | 13th day of Running, Y11
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An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part Six


by _lapaix

--------

Deep in the Haunted Woods, past the Esophagor and the Brain Tree, past the Stone Dome and the Deserted Fairground, past the haunted castle of Eliv Thade, lies the Gypsy Camp. The Gypsy Camp, you say, I thought that was just a myth! Well, it's true. The Gypsy Camp lies on the farthest edge of the Haunted Woods, masked by a ring of shabby, sick trees, green trees with faces scarier than the rest.

     In the middle of the Gypsy Camp is the Kau Fortune Teller, of Lost Desert Plot fame. I see you have heard of her. Indeed, her reputation precedes her. She is a mysterious Kau, who speaks not in words but in riddles, puzzles, clues, and hints. You must approach her, listen to her words of wisdom. Listen carefully; she doesn't much like to repeat herself.

     She will tell you how to retrieve the Sacred Stone. They say that it's hidden in a lonesome castle in Neovia, a building haunted by ghosts and visited by none. They say the ghosts haunt the place, guard the stone and keep away those unworthy of it. But she, the Fortune Teller, will tell you how to get past these ghosts.

     I pray, fair Neopets, beware and may Fyora be with you.

     * * * * *

     "Well, obviously Fyora can't be with us," an exasperated Jared fumed. "She's stuck in that cell along with the rest of the faeries! I can't see why you like Illusen so much, Shirley. All she did was tell us some horror story about ghosts and haunted castles."

     "She wasn't telling us a horror story! She was giving us instructions!" I snapped back.

     We had sneaked back to Rhonda's house, where we once again borrowed her cloud racers. We were quite glad Rhonda didn't seem to be home yet, since we didn't have an alternate method of transportation and neither Callista nor I felt like explaining our current situation to her (Jared outright refused to explain our dilemma since he neither knew Rhonda nor was driving a cloud racer).

     The Haunted Woods were a spooky place to be in the daytime, but at night, there was no creepier place. The full moon shone brightly overhead, emanating a faint luminescent light. A Werelupe's howl could be heard, somewhere in the heart of the forest, hopefully far away from where we hid the cloud racers beneath a blanket of fallen leaves behind Edna's Tower.

     Edna's Tower was a frightful sight at night, not unlike a green-horned monster prepared to devour whatever unsuspecting pets entered its chambers. A bright green light poured out from its two oblong eyes, and its fanged mouth gaped open, beckoning visitors to come in. One dauntless Halloween Uni galloped in, a Chokato Snapdragon Lollypop clutched firmly between his teeth, no doubt an item Edna had implored the pet to purchase for her.

     We left the menacing glare of Edna's Tower and proceeded down the muddy road past the Haunted House, the Game Graveyard, the Esophagor, and the Castle of Eliv Thade. We passed the Brain Tree and a particularly rotten-looking trunk, where a large pair of protuberant white eyes stared at us (perhaps they belonged to a fearsome Meepit; I shivered at the thought). Finally we saw the looming silhouette of the Carnival of Terror, and beyond that, a vague orange light shining from the Gypsy Camp.

     A cheerful song was being sung, a tambourine keeping perfect rhythm, and the smell of roasted marshmallows wafted to our noses. A graceful Aisha danced around a bright fire, her shadow contorting to mirror her every movement. I watched, mesmerized as another gypsy, a slightly less graceful Aisha, joined the first in the dance.

     "Come on," hissed Callista, dragging Jared and me to a pink wagon.

     We entered through a silky blue curtain, patterned with pale blue stars and moons. In the center of the wagon, sat a plain wooden table. Perched atop the table was a single purple cushion, fringed with gold strings, and atop the cushion rested a crystal orb. The orb was carefully balanced on a golden stand, and behind it sat a red Kau. Her mane was thick, long, and a dark magenta color, matching her bright eyes, which sparkled with interest, curiosity, and above all, knowing.

     She waved us forward and pointed her hooves towards three empty stools. Above her snout was a flower-like design, veiled slightly by a sheer purple fabric. She wore gold earrings and a rich purple tunic embroidered with gold. She smiled kindly at us and waited patiently for us to sit down opposite her.

     "You have come to see me, to ask for help." She spoke with a thick accent, which I couldn't quite place.

     "Yes," I began. "We—"

     "I know why you've come." Still, she looked at us expectantly, first at Callista, then at me, and finally at Jared. "You come to seek a certain stone, no? The Cursed Stone?"

     "No, the Sacred Stone," I corrected. "Illusen said the Sacred Stone."

     The Fortune Teller smiled at us. "There is nothing sacred about that stone. No, no, it shall be called the Cursed Stone."

     She paused, stared at each of us in turn, and then closed her eyes. She breathed in, then out, once. Twice. Three times. Then she opened her eyes and gazed at her crystal ball. It glowed bright blue, and she began:

     "There lies a path that twists and turns, snakelike, past the camp.

     It weaves its way, not to and fro, but outwards past the hills.

     Follow the trail, the cobblestone map, and go to the village yonder.

     There, in the mist and shadows of night, beneath the moon's watchful eye,

     lies a small and tattered brick castle whose eye burns gold as the sun.

     Enter and meet the Crumpetmonger, in whose hands your fate doth lie."

     She presently closed her eyes again as the orb began to dull down as well. We rose, thanked her for her hospitality, and exited the wagon. The music had stopped, the fire had simmered down to a few glowing embers, nothing like the magnificent beast it had been before. The dancing gypsies all turned to look at us curiously. A Skeith flutist jabbed his fellow musician with a marshmallow stick, whispered something in a hushed tone, and then nodded knowingly. We smiled bashfully and inched our way around the wagon. The gypsies' eyes followed us, despite our attempts to avoid them.

     "We were just going," I mumbled, embarrassed. Clearly we had disturbed their night of fun and celebration.

     "Wait!" The pretty Aisha dancer approached us. Her hair was vivid red and fell down to her waist. It complimented her brown dress and the gold embellishments on her belt nicely. She had the same accent as the Fortune Teller. "You guys are looking for the Cursed Stone?"

     I nodded my head and pointed a finger at a cobblestone path that lay hidden in the shadows. "Sh-sh-she told us to follow this trail to N-n-neovia, and find th-th-the Crumpetmonger," I stammered. Callista nodded in agreement.

     The Aisha shook her head forcefully. "What is she thinking, sending three little pets after the stone? You can't possibly find it. It's too dangerous. We'll call in the experts. They'll be here shortly."

     "We don't have time," I protested. "If we don't get the stone back to the Darigan Citadel by dawn—"

     "No, no," the Aisha insisted. "They'll be here in a minute or two. Just relax, and try to help your friend. He seems to be frozen from shock or something."

     I glanced at Jared, whose mouth was agape. His eyes were still frozen on the Aisha gypsy. No, I thought to myself, probably from overexposure to beauty.

     * * * * *

     The experts turned out to be a bespectacled Brown Shoyru and a chipper Split Lenny who reminded me only too much of our recent acquaintance, Norbert.

     "You two are looking for the Stone, are you?" wheezed the Shoyru.

     "There are three of us," Callista reminded him softly.

     "Right, right, of course. Three." The Shoyru glanced down at Jared, who was still staring, entranced, at the gypsy Aisha. "You were planning to go alone, were you?"

     "Well, y-y-yes," I stuttered. "You see—"

     "No, no, no need for any explanations," smiled the Lenny. "We'd best get going. Just grab your friend. It's a long walk to Neovia."

     * * * * *

     "I'm Henry. This here is Dylan. He's a fine chap, has a big heart and an even bigger brain. He's probably read every book in Neopia," the Lenny informed us. He flashed a glance at the Shoyru, then leaned in close and whispered, "I don't think he gets out very much."

     "I heard that," rasped the Shoyru. "I may be old, but I'm certainly not deaf. Say, Henry, how's that brother of yours doing? What was his name, Norman?"

     "Norbert, actually. I don't know, I haven't heard from him in a while. Why?"

     "Oh, it's nothing. It's just that my friend Sherman from the Magical Bookshop was looking for an assistant, and I thought he might be interested, is all."

     "Norbert? Is he a Rainbow Lenny, perchance?" Jared was walking at the back of the troupe, his Jeran Action Figure in his paws. He had taken it out of his backpack once more, but, I noticed, not until after the gypsy camp was well out of sight

     "Yes. We do like our colors." Henry grinned, indicating his own purple and orange plumage. "Why do you ask?"

     "Well, we met this Lenny today in Faerieland. His name was Norbert, and he was taking a vacation, he said, from Mystery Island...." Jared stopped talking, directing his attention instead to his action figure. He began mumbling to himself, no doubt enacting some sort of valiant battle which Jeran had commanded. "Pow," I heard him mutter, "take that, Kass!"

     I rolled my eyes and skipped next to Callista. She had taken the map out from Jared’s backpack a few minutes ago and was busy studying it.

     "Whatcha doing?" I asked in a sing-song voice.

     When she didn't answer, I peered over her shoulder. It looked like utter nonsense. Why, it wasn't a map at all! There were no dotted trails, no red x's marking buried treasure locations, no houses or buildings or labels. It was a bunch of random drawings done sloppily with a runny pen. I frowned.

     "Callista, why on Neopia did you steal such an unflattering picture? Why would anybody want to keep such a thing?"

     "It's not an ordinary picture, Shirley. I think it's like an instruction manual. See, look here." Callista pointed to the first picture in the upper-left corner. "It's a picture of a wooden staff with a bright orb on top. Recognize it? It's the one that shifty Kyrii we saw at the Rainbow Fountain was holding! Now look at the next picture. It's of a Neopet saying something. I can't quite make it out, but it looks kind of like 'luminescence' or something of the sort. Then it's a picture of a winged person, a faerie. She's being sucked into the orb. After, the Neopet says something else, and the orb grows bigger and detaches from the staff."

     Callista smiled at me triumphantly, waving the piece of parchment at me energetically. "Don't you see? This is their guide! If they don't have it, they can't do anything."

     "But they could have another copy! And what good is it if we have it? It's not like we're going to be needing this," I challenged. “Besides, maybe they’re already done with it.”

     "Whatever, Shirley, just let me finish. Now, where were we? Ah, yes," Callista continued. "There's the diagram of twelve faeries with their names, I think it is, underneath. Yes, I can vaguely make out the words 'Illusen' and 'Jhudora.’ Or maybe it's 'Jhuidah.' I don't really know. They're quite similar, really."

     Callista paused, hummed to herself a bit as her eyes flitted across the page, and then proceeded once more. "So, apparently at dawn the powers of the faeries will be absorbed by the orbs, which will form one mega-orb, and the power can then be transferred to any single individual. Sounds like a load of pish-posh to me, but I suppose it sounds funny until it actually happens. Now, to reverse the process... hmm. This is mighty difficult."

     "What? What is it?" I urged. We had stopped walking, now, and Jared, Henry, and Dylan were eying us curiously. They were too busy listening to interrupt us, though. "What do we do, Callista?" I pressed.

     "Well, you need to find this black thing—I guess that's the Stone—and place it somewhere, but I can't make out where exactly. Oh, well. We can figure that out when we get there." Callista looked up. "Why have we stopped?"

     "Oh, I think we were being too loud, Callista. We'd best hurry and get to Neovia, then." I gave her a little shove and we began to march when, through the fog dark shadows began to appear.

     Henry approached us and placed a wing around each of our shoulders. "Girls, we're already arrived."

     * * * * *

     The street lamps of Neovia flickered weakly like fireflies at night. We cautiously made our way down the cobblestone paths, passing a tall building with a large golden orb on top and a cemetery consisting of row after row of cracked gravestones. To our left was a thin canal, which rushed by with a forbidding series of hisses and sputters. The green water looked far from sanitary and smelled a little like rotten negg. I wrinkled my nose and moved away from the canal towards the right side of the walkway.

     Ahead of us was the Neovian Printing Press, which got Dylan quite excited. "Look," he exclaimed, his face pressed up against a glass window, "they have the Maraquan Messenger! I've always wanted to see one!"

     He impatiently rang the bell outside the shop and was forthwith greeted by a rather annoyed Pteri who seemed to have somewhat hastily changed into her teal dress. Her hair was disheveled, as if she had just been woken from a deep sleep, which she probably was. Dylan shuffled past her, grabbed the Maraquan Messenger along with a few other items (among them I only recognized the Shenkuu Bulletin and an autographed copy of Tale of Woe: The Untold Story - by Reginald).

     "Hmph," he sniffed as he paid for his items. "This is preposterous! The Jelly World Travel Brochure? As if such a place existed!"

     The Pteri nearly threw us out of her shop then, slamming the door forcefully after us.

     Callista met us outside the shop, having evidently escaped off to Prigpants & Swolthy, a garment store nearby. "Don't you simply adore this fancy pink gown?" she beamed. "I would've bought the pink sun hat, too, but I didn't have enough Neopoints."

     "I didn't know you even had enough Neopoints for that dress." I raised an eyebrow at her, accusingly.

     "W-w-well," she stammered as a blush rose on her cheeks, "I may have borrowed a couple thousand from you... but don't worry! I'll pay you back, I promise."

     I stayed away from Callista, letting her walk dejectedly by Jared. That'll teach her to borrow my money without permission, I thought spitefully.

     We crossed the canal by way of bridge into a small plaza. To the right was Chesterdrawers' Antiques. Through the window we could see the owner, a tall, spindly Nimmo with a few too many freckles and bushy eyebrows that made up for a bald spot on the crown of his head. He was busy trying to sell a coffee table and decorative lamp to a squat Bruce, who seemed to be on the fence about the purchase.

     We ignored the shop, veering to the left instead, to a medium-sized wooden building. A brick oven protruded from the back of it. On the front was a wooden sign, messily carved with the word "Crumpetmonger."

     Despite the late hour, the shop was bustling with activity. There was barely any room inside, it was so cramped with pets screaming their orders at a panicky trio of Kikos. Another three pets were busy baking, scrambling about the kitchen in an endless quest for ingredients. The hostess, a chipper Yellow Meerca, whose hairdo was almost as tall as she was, was busy tending to the cash register.

     "That'll be 1,136 Neopoints," she told a Grarrl. The Grarrl quickly gave her the Neopoints, grabbed his carton of lemon tarts, and shuffled out the door.

     We waited patiently for the last of the pets to pay for their order and exit before approaching the Meerca.

     "Well, howdy there. What can I get for you folks today? Might I suggest the honey crumpet? It's mighty good. Ye better get 'em while they're hot, or else I might eat 'em myself!" she chuckled. We all laughed politely, afraid to get on her bad side.

     "Actually, we're here because someone told us to come," I explained.

     "Ah, well then I'll have ter thank 'em for the the customers," the shopkeeper grinned. "Did they give you any suggestions on what ter buy? Like I said, the crumpet's mighty yummy."

     I shook my head. "No, actually, it wasn't about the pastries. See, we went ter—I mean, to—to see the Fortune Teller, the one at the Gypsy Camp."

     The Meerca's face changed drastically. Her smile disappeared, her brow furrowed, and her expression became one of deep concentration. "I see."

     "Yes. See, we're looking for this stone. The... the... the Cursed Stone." My voice was so quiet, I was surprised the shopkeeper could hear me, but she did; there was no doubt about that.

     She peered at me curiously, smoothing her apron, which was stained with green and red. "The Cursed Stone, ye say?"

     She hopped down from her chair and bounced her way to the back of the store. "You guys," she called to her assistants, "start closing up. I'm going ter take a quick walk."

     * * * * *

     Our walk didn't take us very far. In fact, the shopkeeper seemed loath to venture too far from her store. We simply strolled to the stone wall that encircled the plaza. Below us flowed the green canal. I blanched slightly from the smell of the water. The Meerca didn't seem to mind, though. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the stench.

     The shopkeeper pulled her linen cloak tighter around her. "It's mighty cold ternight," she commented, gazing upward at the moon.

     We stood in silence, none of us apparently brave enough to pressure the Meerca into speaking. Evidently, she was more intimidating than any of us cared to admit.

     Somewhere in the distance, amidst the thick mist that enshrouded us, a bell rang once, twice, and nine times more after that. The Meerca grinned. "'Tis time," she whispered, "'tis time."

     * * * * *

     "Yer see that tall building through the fog? The one with the pointed roof? Yes, the one with the clock on it. That's where yer lot'll be headin' shortly."

     I squinted my eyes and saw the vague outline of a tall steeple rising through the mist. "What'll we do there?" I asked, my voice catching in my throat. It seemed I wasn't made for adventure. I grimaced to myself, recalling my wish earlier that morning for a little spice in my life.

     "You'll enter through the front doors. Be careful. They might squeak, and yer'll not be wantin' to wake up Argus. He'll chase yer outta there with his big shovel faster than you can say, 'Crumpets,' he will. But that dasn't matter. Just keep quiet, yer hear?"

     We bobbed our heads. Dylan and Henry rolled their eyes and strolled away so they were bathed by the light of a street lamp. They bent their heads closer together and were soon deep in conversation. The Meerca didn't seem to notice, however, as she continued to speak.

     "The lights'll probably be on by now. They always are late at night, but nobody knows why. The house's abandoned. Nobody's seen the owners in who knows how long. But Argus stays there anyway. He's the caretaker, tends ter the gardens and dusts the bookshelves, things of that ilk. He don't go in there too much. Reckon the ghosts have him scared off."

     "Ghosts?" Jared squeaked. "So there really are ghosts?"

     The shopkeeper turned to look at us. "Well, of course. Don't tell me yer three didn't know that much! Yes, the ghosts are there. Yer won't meet them when you first go in, no. You'll see them in the basement. That's where yer'll be heading, ter get the stone.

     "They'll try to stop yer progress," she continued, "but ye can't let them. Just keep on going down the stairs. Yer'll see a thick metal door with a puzzle on it of sorts. A riddle, I reckon. Or maybe there's not even a door. Maybe it's just an empty room, a dark room, with a stone in the middle. I've never been there myself; I only know from what my granpappy said. Grab the stone and run, run ter wherever yer need ter be."

     We nodded and thanked her for her hospitality and for her help (Callista thanked her most earnestly, a warm chocolate scone in her paws).

     "Don't mention it," the Meerca replied wistfully.

     Dylan and Henry seemed to be engrossed in the Shoyru's recently purchased copy of Tale of Woe, so we didn't bother them and left them to their readings. We three sped off in the direction of the mansion, our legs shaking and our knees wobbling beneath us. As we ran, a soft, raspy Meerca voice from behind us said, "I guess them prophecies are finally coming true."

     * * * * *

     The building the shopkeeper had pointed us to was taller than I'd expected. It looked old, abandoned, and dusty. Cobwebs embellished the cracked windows, and the front gate creaked from neglect. Clearly there hadn't been any visitors in ages. Across from the building was a small shack, rundown and shabby-looking. The lights were still on, and a vague Gelert silhouette shone through the window. That must've been Argus the caretake’s house, I thought to myself.

     We didn't want to risk catching the attention of the caretaker by creaking the gate, so we climbed over the stone wall surrounding the property. It wasn't particularly tall, maybe four or five feet in height. The house itself was surrounded by a large circle of green. What once must have been a luscious garden of green plants, flowers, and fountains was now overrun with weeds and ivy. Despite his devotion to his position as caretaker, he wasn't doing a very thorough job. I eyed the cracked clay pot of a dying plant.

     "The doors are locked," Jared speculated, giving them a hard shove.

     "Maybe you're just not pushing hard enough," I whispered back. After giving them a good push myself, I grimaced. "Fine, maybe they are locked."

     "Or maybe you should try pulling," Callista proposed, tugging at a large knocker. Callista smirked triumphantly as the doors slid open effortlessly.

     The inside of the mansion was covered with a blanket of dust that sent me into a fit of sneezes, Jared shushing me after each "ah-choo."

     There seemed to be hundreds upon hundreds of rooms to search through, and dozens of staircases, each of them leading to the second, third, and maybe even fourth floors. Each new room was decorated with large oil paintings of a prestigious looking family: a mustached Bruce with a thick gold monocle and a shiny mahogany cane, a russet-tressed Aisha wearing a high-collared dress of a deep blue, an indifferent Blumaroo dressed in a carefully ironed tuxedo, 00 Hog-style.

     The furniture was carved with ornate designs and vaguely reminiscent of another era in Neopia. Crystalline vases held dried flowers and large chandeliers hung, coated with cobwebs, high above the foyer’s marble floor The dining room remained untouched, it seemed, since the last dinner held there, set with eight white china plates, eight golden goblets, and eight sets of ivory spoons, forks, and knives.

     Around every corner a glistening statue stood: first, one of a Flotsam riding a stone wave; then a winged Shoyru with a garland of flowers on his head and a cloth toga wrapped around his body; then a stone likeness of Jhudora, grinning mercilessly down at some invisible Neopet.

     Not once, in our extensive search through room after room, bookshelf after bookshelf, stairwell after stairwell, closet after closet, did we come across a secret passageway or staircase of some sort which led to the basement or cellar below. Jared continually insisted that we pull all of the books off from their shelves, lest we miss the entrance to a hidden tunnel.

     "I'm telling you," he repeated, "one of those boring old books will cause some sort of trap door to open up!"

     "Even if we did pull every single dusty encyclopedia off of the shelves, it'd take years! Look at all the books in this place," Callista reasoned, indicating a whole wall of books.

     We wandered for a little while longer, peering into rooms which we'd already examined. Somewhere from up above, the clock rang midnight. We didn't have much time left, I frowned, and we'd already wasted one hour marveling over old paintings and paisley-printed sofas.

     "It's hopeless," I sighed. "We've searched this place completely, and there's no basement. Maybe the shopkeeper was lying to us."

     "Or maybe, we just weren't looking thoroughly enough." Callista was standing in front of a large tapestry, woven from red and blue, which hung from the ceiling and reached all the way to the floor. Around the edges were golden tassels.

     "But there are never any secret passageways behind tapestries," Jared protested.

     "Well, maybe you just haven't read enough books," Callista retorted, vanishing behind the cloth.

     * * * * *

     "It's cold down here," I whined, shivering.

     The cellar turned out to be farther down than any of us had expected. We must have descended hundreds of stairs, and still we plunged deeper and deeper below. Eventually, we came to the end of the staircase. Ahead of us was a dark forbidding tunnel. Jared and Callista both grabbed a torch off the walls while I trembled along between them. The tunnel went on for even longer than the stairs, ending in a circular chamber. In the center of the chamber was a single wooden chest. Tentatively, we approached it.

     "It's locked," I said, stroking a thick brass keyhole.

     "Of course it is. You don't think we'd make it that easy, did you?" A red-eyed Draik hovered before me, glowing with a faint halo of greyish-blue.

     "GHOST!" I screamed, running for safety behind Callista and Jared.

     "Ghost? Where?" chuckled a floating Kacheek. He drifted over beside the Draik and was soon joined by a throng of other ghosts.

     "D-d-don't hurt us!" I pleaded, down on my knees and close to tears. "We mean no harm!"

     "Geez, Shirley, you don't have to cry about everything," Jared hissed under his breath.

     A bemused Usul glided until she was hovering in front of me. "Hurt you? Why would we hurt you?"

     "Because you're a ghost!" I sobbed, cowering in fear, my arms forming a protective shield above my head. "You eat pets like us!"

     "Ha!" chortled a Hissi, slithering his way around the room, floating a few feet above ground. "You think we'd eat you? You're not even cooked."

     I squealed, and the Hissi rolled his eyes. "Just a joke," he muttered. "Really, you pets have no sense of humor nowadays...."

     "We just want the Stone," I whimpered, "we just want the stone."

     "You mean stones," the Draik corrected, now levitating above the chest.

     "Stones?" Jared peered at the box curiously. "I thought there was only one."

     "No, no, no. There are two." A short Quiggle ghost waved two stubby fingers in the air. "The Cursed Stone and the Sacred Stone. They look pretty similar. You've probably confused them for one stone. But they're two." He shook his fingers in our faces again.

     "Well, which one do you think we need?" Callista asked Jared. "Illusen said the Sacred Stone, but the Fortune Teller said the Cursed Stone."

     Jared shrugged his shoulders and eyed the chest again. "Let's just take both, to be safe."

     "How are we supposed to get them? They're locked up," I peeped, uncovering one eye apprehensively. "And besides, those ghosts will attack us if we take them."

     "We're not going to attack you!" the Hissi shouted. "You know, you pets all think that just because we're ghosts, we're evil. Well, we're not," he snapped, "and it infuriates me when you stereotype us like that!"

     "Calm down, Diego, calm down." A Yurble smiled and patted the Hissi reassuringly on the back. Then he turned to us. "We're not going to hurt you. In fact, we'd like to help you."

     "Help us?" Callista gazed around the room, taking in each grey figure after the other. "You'll help us open the chest?"

     "Of course we will," chirruped the ghost Usul, straightening the bow on her tail. "You just have to solve the riddle and figure out which key is the right key." She gestured to a multitude of brass objects hanging on the walls around us.

     Jared rushed up and grabbed the first one. "Well, let's try them all. We'll have to get them eventually."

     "No, no," the Usul cautioned, "you only have one chance."

     "Oh." Jared's face fell. "Well, what's the riddle?"

     "You see us, now, for what we are,

     Floating, flying, fearsome to most,

     But drop just this, and you'll see by far

     That we are really quite the hosts!"

     The Usul smiled encouragingly and then, with all the other ghosts, vanished into thin air.

To be continued...

 
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Other Episodes


» An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part One
» An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part Two
» An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part Three
» An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part Four
» An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part Five
» An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part Seven
» An Unlikely Group of Heroes: Part Eight



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