The Tower of the Elf King Read online

  Without another word, Khan shot straight out of his house. The kids followed him.

  A pale half moon had risen over the village. It cast a silvery light over the desert sand.

  “How are we going to track the monster?” said Eric. “This desert is huge.”

  “You forget what made the Lumpies famous!” Khan said. With a wink he sniffed the small green scale, then pushed his nose into the air. Sniff! Sniff!

  “The scent is faint, but still there,” Khan said, squinting out over the dunes. Then he pointed. “That way. We must follow!”

  Ten minutes later, the small troop set out.

  Khan took the lead. He stopped every now and then to sniff the scale, then picked up the trail again.

  After nearly an hour of trudging across the moonlit sands, they stopped to rest behind a huge sand dune.

  While Khan passed a canteen to Julie and Neal, Keeah practiced softly on her harp.

  “I think I’ll try to see what’s out there,” Eric said. He stepped away from the camp.

  “We’ll start soon,” said Keeah. “Don’t go far.”

  “Okay,” he said. Then he stopped. “Keeah?”

  She looked up from her harp. “Yes?”

  “Well … you said you were in the Upper World before. Was that true? I mean, how?”

  The princess shrugged her shoulders slightly. “It’s a mystery,” she said. “When I saw the trees outside your basement, I just knew I had been there before. I don’t know how. I don’t know when. But my father says it’s impossible.”

  Eric took a deep breath. “Maybe your mother knows. I mean, you found her magic harp. Maybe it means you’ll find her soon, too.”

  Keeah smiled. “I hope I will.”

  Keeah’s mother, Queen Relna, was under a spell. First she had been a falcon, then a dragon. But where she was now and what form she was in, no one knew.

  Eric left Keeah and climbed alone to the top of the dune. Looking up, he saw billions of bright stars twinkling in every direction.

  Then something twinkled down below, too.

  Eric lowered his gaze. “Holy crow!” he gasped.

  At the bottom of the dune was a fire.

  No … many fires. And tents. Hundreds of tents, spreading far into the distance.

  An army of tents. Red ones.

  “Ninns!” he hissed. “I’ve got to warn the others!” But as he turned to rush back, the ridge at the top of the dune gave way. He hit the sand and began to roll.

  The more he tried to stop himself, the faster he rolled. Over and over he went, faster and faster, until — whoosh!

  He crashed right through the back of one of the tents and stopped with a thud.

  Yellow light flooded over him.

  Eric squinted. Then he stared.

  Right into the face of a fierce red Ninn!

  Eric gaped at the face before him.

  It was a Ninn, all right.

  The chubby red cheeks. The sharp chin. The pointed ears that stuck out to the side. The deep-set black eyes the size of marbles.

  But this one was different from any other Ninn Eric had ever seen.

  This one was wearing a dress!

  “What you?” grunted the Ninn, leaning over, nose to nose with Eric.

  “Uh … I’m Eric?” he answered.

  “Humph!” the Ninn grunted. She pulled away and sat down on a rug that lay like a floor over the sand. Before her, a small pot sizzled over a fire. Smoke from the fire wafted up through a hole in the ceiling of the tent.

  Eric wondered if he should bolt out of there as soon as possible. But what if she screamed? What if Sparr was right outside? He looked around.

  The inside of the tent was lined with sacks and bundles. So it was true, Eric thought. The Ninns had been traveling.

  Maybe he could find out where.

  “Wahh!” came a squeaky sound from behind the Ninn. Eric nearly jumped out of his skin.

  A small Ninn, a child of maybe two or three, sat playing quietly behind the woman.

  The child already wore the fierce expression of all Ninn warriors.

  The Ninn woman scooped a small brown ball from the pot she was stirring. She held it out to the child, who grunted softly, then ate it.

  Eric turned to the Ninn. “Is Sparr near here?”

  She cast her eyes at the fire under the pot. “Sparr,” she grunted. “Sparr … gone.”

  The words sent a shock through him.

  “Gone? Sparr gone?” he repeated. “Where?”

  The Ninn grumbled under her breath as she spooned more food onto a plate.

  “Secret place,” she said. “No one knows.”

  “Is he … dead?” Eric asked.

  “Not dead. Not alive. Now we follow Gryndal.”

  “Gryndal?” Eric repeated. “Who is he?”

  “He worse,” the Ninn said. “Lizard. Monster. Gryndal use Ninns to help him build tower.”

  Eric guessed that the monster was the same one they’d been tracking.

  “Gryndal is building a tower?” asked Eric. “Where is it? And what is it for?”

  The Ninn grumbled and shrugged her massive shoulders. “Sparr gone. Gryndal worse. Ninns not happy.”

  For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Then there was a grunt from outside. A loud grunt. The tent flap jostled.

  “Oh, no!” Eric gasped. “I better go —”

  “Be still!” the Ninn woman said. In a flash, she flung a thick blanket over him.

  Eric didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

  Through a small hole in the blanket Eric saw a giant Ninn warrior barrel into the tent as if he lived there.

  Then Eric realized … he probably did.

  The small Ninn yipped once and the warrior patted its fuzzy head. Then the Ninn turned to the woman and growled and grunted strange words. She answered him back the same way.

  It was probably the Ninn language, Eric thought. It sounded very strange. Like gargling.

  Whatever she said, the warrior didn’t seem to like it. He began stomping around the tent, banging things and slapping his hands together.

  “Me hungry! Me food … now!”

  He stared at her, angry and mean-­looking.

  Suddenly, the woman yelled, “Thalak!”

  The warrior bolted upright. He staggered back, his beady eyes squinting at the woman. He grumbled loudly, then — swoosh! — the tent flap went up and he was gone.

  “Whoa!” whispered Eric. “Saved!”

  The woman whipped off the blanket. “Go,” she said. “Yak-yak! Far from here. And take.”

  She held out a small leather sack. Into it she plopped a large helping of the food she’d been cooking on the fire. “Go. Now!”

  Wide-eyed, Eric took the sack from the woman. “Thank you. You’re very nice.”

  The woman nodded, then swished her hands at him. Eric scurried back through the tent the way he had come. He climbed back up the dune.

  He looked once more at the vast sea of tents below. Then he slid down the sand to his own little camp. Everyone rushed to him.

  “Eric!” cried Keeah. “You gave us such a scare! What happened to you?”

  He told them every­thing.

  “The monster’s name is Gryndal. The Ninns are building some kind of tower for him. I didn’t really understand that part. But the biggest news is that Sparr is gone. At least for now.”

  Keeah’s eyes glimmered. “So it is true….”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Khan with a snarl. “I will never believe it. I can almost smell him.”

  Neal chuckled. “Unless it’s the smell of whatever Eric has in that bag. What is it?”

  Eric burst into laughter. “Looks like a Ninn specialty — meatballs!”

  Even Khan managed a grin. “But come,” he said. “We’re wasting time. It’s not safe to stay here. Already the scent is growing faint. The monster — and my treasure — are this way!”

  The small band trekked through the
night.

  When morning came they found themselves before a high wall of sand-colored stone.

  “Do we stop here?” asked Julie.

  Khan shook his head. “No. Gryndal came this way. I’m certain of it.”

  Keeah scanned the rock. “There is a pass over there,” she said, pointing to a break in the rocks. “We can follow it through to the other side.”

  The kids headed into the narrow pass. Steep jagged walls rose up on either side. They moved through quietly and in single file.

  “This is the perfect place for a sneak attack,” Eric said. “Everyone be on guard.”

  The sounds of their footsteps echoed off the rocks. Every whisper seemed like a shout.

  Suddenly, a voice boomed down from above. “Stop where you are!”

  Everyone froze.

  Thwomp! A dark, slithering shape leaped down from the rocks and planted itself in the path before them.

  The creature was seven feet tall. It had scaly green skin, thick arms and legs, and a long thorny tail. Horns grew on its head. Its gnarled face had three angry eyes glowing red.

  And its mouth sparked and sizzled with fire.

  “It’s him!” Eric cried. “The dream monster!”

  “And the treasure monster!” Khan added.

  “But where is his pig nose?” Neal whispered.

  “I am Gryndal,” the creature shouted. “King of the elves!” His voice boomed as loud and as deep as thunder.

  “Elves?” said Neal. “But where are the rosy cheeks? The twinkling eyes? The cute little hat? That’s what elves are supposed to look like.”

  “Give up your treasure or we shall fight you!” Gryndal roared. “Come, my elves!”

  A bunch of other creatures jumped from the rocks. But they weren’t like Gryndal at all.

  There were six of them. They were three feet tall and wore long orange cloaks. Their faces were hidden by huge hoods. Each had a sack over its shoulder and a fistful of long shiny palm leaves. They waved them menacingly.

  But they didn’t seem very scary.

  “Behold my elves! Ruthless and terrible they are!” Gryndal thundered. “Kindly give them all your valuables and no one will be hurt!”

  Keeah snorted at that. “We will not! In fact, we have come to take our treasure back!”

  “Oh, want to play tough, do you?” Gryndal boomed. “Then take this!”

  Blampf! He shot a blast of fire at the kids. Luckily, Keeah sent a bolt of blue lightning in front of the fire. Ka-whoom! The fire vanished.

  “That won’t stop us!” Keeah said. “Attack!”

  In a flash, Khan’s tough little arms swung into action, but two hooded elves jumped him and began swatting him with their palm leaves.

  They grabbed for his canteen, but Khan tossed it high. Eric caught it and tucked it into his belt.

  Neal dashed to help Khan, pulling one elf back by his long cloak. “Eat sand, dune boy!” he said.

  Then he grabbed at the second elf and managed to pull off his sack before the elf wriggled away. Neal slung the sack over his own shoulder and helped Khan to his feet.

  “I got some treasure back!” said Neal.

  “Now let’s get the thieves, too!” Khan said.

  Another elf swatted at Julie, then lunged at Eric, snatching Khan’s canteen from his belt.

  “Shiny treasure!” the elf squeaked.

  “It’s a water bottle!” Eric shouted.

  “It’s shiny!” the elf cried. “Gryndal wants it!”

  He pinched Eric’s ears and jumped away, dragging his long orange cloak behind him.

  “Looks like they bought the wrong size uniform at the bad-guy shop!” Julie said, jumping to her feet. “I’d say they take … an extra small!”

  Blampf! Gryndal’s next fire blast forced Keeah back against the stones. “Give me that harp,” he boomed. “Or be a toasted wizard!”

  “Oh, you couldn’t play it!” Keeah said. “It’s not for creepy lizards like you!”

  Gryndal stepped back and took a deep breath. Flames sparked from his toothy mouth.

  “Back off, chili-breath!” Julie cried. She leaped at Gryndal. Then something heavy hit the ground.

  Clank! Julie looked back. The monster was staring at the ground next to her.

  There, lying in the dust, was his tail.

  It was thrashing this way and that in the sand.

  “Whoa!” cried Julie. “I am tougher than I thought! Score one for the kids!”

  Suddenly — poomf! Poomf!

  Loud blasting noises echoed into the pass. The ground thundered. The air grew smoky.

  “Someone is coming,” cried Gryndal. He quickly grabbed his tail and leaped clumsily back onto the rocks. “Follow me, elves. Back to the tower.”

  Instantly, his troops scurried back into the rocks, yipping and yapping.

  Poomf! Another puff of gray smoke shot up from the end of the pass.

  “What is that?” Neal asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Keeah. “But it saved us!”

  Clippity-bang! Rrrrr-ping! Poof-poof!

  A strange vehicle rolled between the high rocks and down the path to them.

  It looked a little like an old-fashioned car.

  And a parade float.

  And a steamboat on wagon wheels.

  Choof! With a final blast of smoke, the thing jerked to a stop in front of them. A small hatch opened and out popped a strange little man.

  He had fuzzy green hair sticking up in little wisps over his long ears. His fingers were delicate. His eyes were thoughtful. He wore a neat brown suit and silver spectacles on his nose.

  “Come on up!” he called down in a cheery voice. “My name is Friddle! Sorry to scare you, but I sensed you were in trouble!”

  The friends looked at one another. Then they climbed up to the hatch.

  “Thanks!” said Eric. “You came just in time.”

  “Indeed!” said Friddle. “But we must hurry to get there before nightfall.”

  “Get there?” said Julie as they all took seats inside the strange car’s cabin. “Get where?”

  “Why, to the tower, of course!” said the little man. “The tower of the elf king!”

  The kids stared at one another.

  “But won’t Gryndal be there?” asked Neal.

  “Yes,” the man replied. “And all of your treasure, too!”

  Choof! Choof! Friddle pulled back on the control lever and a great puff of smoke burst from the stack behind them. The whole wagon shook.

  “Forward we go!” cried Friddle gleefully. In no time the vehicle was bouncing over the dunes, spraying sand behind it.

  “I’m Keeah,” said the princess. She introduced everyone. “Why were you in the pass, Friddle?”

  The little man grinned. “I’ve been following Gryndal. Ever since he appeared out of nowhere nearly a moon ago.”

  Eric glanced at Keeah. “The same time Sparr disappeared.”

  “Gryndal and his elves robbed my workshop,” Friddle added. “I invent things, you know.”

  Neal laughed. “I love your motorized cart.”

  “Thank you!” the man said. He opened a slit in front of the cabin. Warm air rushed in.

  “I’ve made quite a study of elves,” he went on. “They like to live in the ground. There are twenty-seven varieties, and most of them are quite harmless. But whoever heard of a seven-foot-tall elf with scaly skin and a tail like a swamp lizard?”

  Neal raised his hand. “I never did!”

  “Ah, so perhaps he is not really a swamp lizard,” said Friddle. “One wonders….”

  “Well, whatever he is,” said Eric, “he’s not just stealing jewels, but water bottles, too.”

  Julie laughed. “Which reminds me, Neal. What’s in the sack you managed to steal back?”

  “Yes!” said Khan. “Is my crown in there?”

  Neal pulled open the sack he had taken from one of the elves. He looked into it.

  He slumped his shoulders. �
��Oh, man!”

  “What is it?” Eric stuck his hand into the sack and pulled out a shiny metal object.

  Khan sighed. “A spoon?”

  “Not just a spoon,” said Eric. “Lots of them!”

  Neal tried to grin. “To eat our meatballs with?”

  Puff! Chug! Hisss! The cart bounced along, slipping into the dips between the dunes and roaring up out of them again.

  Suddenly, there was another sound.

  Pling! Thrum! Blong!

  “Yes?” said Friddle.

  “Sorry,” said Keeah. “It’s this harp. Sometimes it plays all by itself. I think it’s broken.”

  “Oh, really?” said Friddle. He pushed his spectacles up on his nose and squinted first at the harp, then at the princess. “May I take a look?”

  Keeah nodded.

  Friddle’s long, slender fingers took the harp. A strange smile crept across his face as he studied it. Finally, he set it on his lap and sighed.

  “I remember when I made this —”

  Keeah nearly fell off her little seat. “You? You made the harp? Then you must be —”

  “The Maker?” Friddle quaked with sudden laughter. “Oh, that silly name! Yes, I suppose I deserve it. I make all sorts of things. But then … you must be Kee-Kee?”

  Keeah beamed. “My mother called me that! She’s Queen Relna!”

  Friddle laughed brightly. “I’m sorry I - didn’t recognize you. It was years ago. You’ve grown into a fine princess!”

  “Thank you,” said Keeah.

  “But the harp, poor thing, has seen better days,” said the Maker. “The story stones are all painted over.”

  “Story stones?” Julie said. “What are they?”

  Friddle pulled back one of the levers. The wagon chugged along by itself.

  “Magical gems,” he said, turning to the children. “They show the story of a person’s life. I set twelve blank ones in the queen’s harp. We must restore them to their original beauty. And see what story they tell us!”

  Friddle took a bottle off a shelf in the cart, opened it, and daubed a cloth with its liquid. It smelled like raspberries, Eric thought.

  “What are the harp’s powers?” asked Keeah.

  Friddle made a low whistling sound as he wiped the harp with the cloth. “That depends on who uses it and how. It can fly, of course, and talk….”