The Thirteenth Fairy Page 17

  The wolves stop circling, and one by one they bow to her, stretching down, showing the scruffs of their necks, and all at once they transform into a group of raggedy-looking kids.

  The tallest one, their leader—a handsome dark-haired lad who looks to be about thirteen—nods to her just as Gretel and Jack arrive at last.

  “You’re all right!” says Gretel, enveloping Filomena in a hug. “That armor’s something else, huh?”

  “Stabbed him hard!” says Jack. “Just like I told you—good girl!”

  Filomena is so relieved that she can’t even laugh. But it’s hard to ignore the wolf pack of boys and girls.

  “You called for aid,” says the leader. “We answered. We are the Wolves of the Wood. I’m Rolf. This is Rox. That’s Sid, Eddie, Gina, and Max.”

  Introductions are made all around.

  “You’re Jill’s brother, right?” asks Rolf.

  “Cousin,” Jack corrects with a smile. “Our moms were sisters. How do you know Jill?”

  Rolf nods. “She rolled our way a while back. Said she was headed to the beach, wanted to be near the water. And who might you be?” he asks Gretel.

  “Gretel,” says Gretel. “Nice to meet you.”

  Jack leans in and whispers, “She’s the Cobbler’s daughter.”

  “The Cobbler?” Rolf asks, head still slightly turned to Jack.

  Gretel looks pleased. “Yup.”

  “Your dad makes the best leather jackets,” says Rolf.

  “I’ll be sure to tell him that,” says Gretel. “He’s retired now. He lives in Boca mostly.”

  “Grandma is always talking about moving to Boca!” says Rox.

  “Ahem,” says Filomena. “I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got something important to ask you guys.”

  “Spill it, Red,” says Rolf, as the other wolves gather around to listen.

  “We need your help to find our friend. A bunch of evil trolls snatched him, and they’re holding him hostage somewhere,” she tells them.

  “Trolls, huh?” says Rolf. “I think some of them just passed this way. Nasty little critters.”

  “Definitely smelled them earlier,” agrees Sid, scrunching his nose.

  “That would be them,” says Jack with a grim smile.

  Rolf appears to think over their request.

  “Dude, if we’re going to do this, we should bounce,” says Max. “We chased that ogre away, but no doubt he’ll be back soon. And most likely with a bunch of his ugly friends. We should get out of here pronto.”

  “So, um, you’ll help us?” Filomena asks. “Please?”

  The wolves look at one another, and Rolf finally responds on behalf of the entire pack. “Of course we will. We always answer to the one who wears the Red Cloak.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  THE KINGDOM OF THE LAMP

  Rolf and the other wolves discuss strategies for finding the trolls. “Our scouts say the trolls you’re looking for went east after leaving the forest.”

  “East? That means they definitely headed to Parsa,” says Jack.

  “Is that bad?” asks Filomena, sensing something in Jack’s tone.

  “It’s just … there’s no reason to go to Parsa unless…”

  “Unless?” she prods.

  “Unless they’ve discovered the hidden cavern where the lamp is hidden,” says Jack.

  “That would not be good,” says Filomena.

  “No,” Jack agrees.

  “Maybe Alistair can stall them,” says Gretel.

  “Let’s hope,” says Filomena. “How far away is Parsa from here?”

  Rolf calculates in his head. “At least a day.”

  “On foot?” asks Gretel, looking worriedly at her shoes.

  “Oh, no,” says Rox, soothing Gretel. “Wolves ride.”

  Rolf grins. He puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles sharply.

  On cue, several other wolves join them in the clearing, this time driving motorcycles. They hand out helmets, goggles, and leather jackets.

  “You know how to drive one of these things?” Rolf asks Jack while shrugging on his jacket. It has BIG BAD WOLF embroidered on the back.

  “Er…,” says Jack. “We mostly have donkeys in Vineland.”

  “I know how!” says Filomena. “Dad takes me off-roading all the time.”

  Filomena puts on a helmet and goggles that are a little too big for her face. “Hang on,” she tells Jack, who gingerly sits behind her on the nearest bike.

  Gretel gets a ride with Gina, who asks, “You good back there?”

  Gretel is making sure the helmet doesn’t mess up her hair too much. She gives Gina a thumbs-up. “Go fast!” she urges.

  The wolves, with their three new riders, zoom out of the forest and into the desert.

  * * *

  They reach the fringes of Parsa and stop at an outlying village to ask if anyone has seen a band of trolls and one hostage. Filomena marvels at the market in the square, which, Jack explains, is a thousand-year-old souk. As soon as they get off their motorbikes, they are accosted by merchants cheerfully and aggressively hawking rugs, candy, caftans.

  “I’ll give you a very good price,” offers one, holding up a patterned rug.

  “Have you seen a group of trolls with a kid?” asks Jack. “About this high, and sort of a loudmouth?”

  The merchant gives him a sly look. “It’ll cost you.”

  Jack grumbles but pays up.

  “Over there, by the lamps,” the seller says, hooking a thumb to the other side of the market.

  But there are a dozen stalls selling lamps of all kinds, which glitter and shine in the dimness of each tent. Lamps shaped like globes, lamps as tall as trees, lamps hanging from trees. They hear Alistair before they see him.

  They creep to the tent where he’s being held and peek in.

  “I told you, I don’t know where it is!” he says crossly to the group of trolls in school uniforms. “I have no idea.”

  Jack, Filomena, and Gretel exchange excited glances, relief evident on their faces. Rolf points to Alistair questioningly. The three of them nod. That’s him.

  “Honestly, he’s as useless as the other one,” one of the trolls grumbles.

  Gretel huffs. Filomena pinches her to be quiet.

  “Get rid of him,” says another troll.

  “No! He’s supposed to know where it is! Maybe we can pull out his eyes, and then he’ll talk.”

  “He’s no use to us blind!”

  Gretel squeals in fear.

  “Shhh,” says Filomena. Before she can turn to Rolf and the wolves to ask them about the rescue plan, Alistair falls backward from his chair and disappears from sight.

  The trolls look around, agitated.

  “Where’d he go?”

  “Barnacles!”

  “Now what!”

  But the wolves, suddenly holding an Alistair-sized sack, signal their new friends while running to their bikes. They all zoom off away from the village and back to the desert. When they’re at a safe distance, Rolf gives the signal to stop.

  The wolf who carried the sack on his bike dumps out Alistair upside down. “Ow! Watch it!”

  “This is the boy you were looking for, right?” Rolf asks, raising a thick dark eyebrow.

  Filomena laughs, understanding the implication behind the question. “Yes!”

  “Loud little bugger,” says the wolf who brought him in. “Kept screaming all the way here.”

  “Be nice, Sid.”

  Alistair stands up, dusting off his trousers. “Was that truly necessary, sir?” he asks Sid. Then he sees Rolf. “Oh! You’re the Big Bad!” he says. “Cor blimey, I thought you lot never left the forest!”

  “Only to answer the call,” says Rolf with a smile. “Otherwise we stay in the forest. Someone’s got to keep the ogres out, after all, and take care of Grandma.”

  “Alistair! You’re all right!” says Filomena, giving him a fierce hug.

  “No worse for the wear,” says Alis
tair with a smile. “Hi, Gretel. Jack.”

  “Hey, bud,” Jack says.

  “You’re still wearing your armor,” says Gretel.

  “Yes, very useful. The trolls couldn’t do anything to me.” He turns to Jack. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell them where it is.”

  “Good. But since we’re here, we should secure it and bring it back to Zera,” says Jack. “That’s what we were trying to do when we were here last, but then the ogres came and we had to run.”

  “They chased us off that cliff over there,” Alistair tells the others. “Good thing Jack had the Pied Pipe.”

  “I knew there was a Heart Tree in the ravine, so we just had to jump to it,” says Jack.

  “And you ended up in my world,” says Filomena.

  “Oh? What world would that be? Where are you from, Red?” asks Rolf.

  “The mortal one,” says Gretel. “I’m from there, too. Although my dad was born here.”

  Rox asks her, “What’s it like?”

  “Shiny,” says Gretel. “It’s like here, but with freeways instead of forests.”

  “Open road,” says Rolf. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Maybe when all this is over, you guys can come see for yourselves,” says Gretel.

  The wolves nod happily.

  Filomena clears her throat again. She needs them to focus. “Okay, now we have Alistair back, so thank you. But that’s not all we need to do.”

  “We’ve got to finish what we started,” adds Jack. “We have to get the lamp, to make sure Queen Olga doesn’t get her hands on it.”

  “Oh, is that all?” quips Sid.

  “And you guys know where this lamp is?” asks Rox.

  “Wasn’t it hidden away after Aladdin’s wedding?” says Gina.

  Alistair nods. “It was. My family hid it. I’m the only person who knows where it is.”

  The wolves look impressed.

  “All right, we’re in,” says Rolf. “Those ogres are a nuisance. We’ll do anything to get rid of them once and for all. Lead the way.”

  “Righto,” says Alistair. He purses his lips and whistles a peculiar melody. At first, nothing happens. Then from afar comes the sound of the wind rushing toward them, faster and faster. When Filomena turns her head, she has to duck whatever is making that sound as it flies past her.

  When it stops, it hovers in the air beside Alistair.

  Wait a minute. Is that a—?

  “Ah, here we go!” Alistair says, pleased with himself. “Yes, it’s my magic carpet. Much faster than those motorbikes, eh?”

  Sid rolls his eyes. Rolf looks impressed. Jack grins at his friend. Filomena stares in disbelief at the Arabian rug floating in the sky.

  “Well, don’t be shy,” Alistair says, petting the carpet like a good boy. “Everyone on.”

  “Can we all fit?” asks Gretel.

  “Hmm,” Alistair replies. “It only seats two comfortably, three if you must. Hang on a tick.” He points to the wolves, counting them, plus his three friends. Then he mutters a spell under his breath, and the rug multiplies into four carpets, all the same length and width as the original. “All right, that should do it.”

  Jack doesn’t hesitate to walk forward, but he pauses before he climbs onto the carpet that has lowered itself near his feet. He turns to Filomena and holds out his hand.

  He really does have the nicest manners.

  She steps forward and takes his hand, letting him help her onto the carpet. He joins her, followed by Alistair. She cozies herself into a cross-legged position and touches the soft fabric.

  Once the entire group is situated, Alistair pats his carpet again and says, “To the Kingdom of the Lamp, please.” And then, over his shoulder he tosses, “Hold tight, everyone!”

  The carpets take off with impressive speed and precision, and they glide through the sky effortlessly. Filomena clings to the fringed ends of the rug, her hair flapping in the wind.

  After a time, they start to drift down, lower and lower, until they can see the skyline of a large city.

  Alistair stretches his arms wide, motioning to the scene below. “We’re here. Welcome to the Kingdom of the Lamp.”

  Filomena takes in the gorgeous landscape with awe. The city before her is sprawling and pink, with turrets and minarets and low-slung buildings around a central square where a large and boisterous souk is set up. “I thought Parsa was destroyed.”

  “Invaded and under ogre rule, but not destroyed, no,” says Jack. “Alistair, we should set down somewhere inconspicuous, huh?”

  “Oh, right,” says Alistair, and he directs the rugs to fly low toward a nearby alley.

  The carpets land them safely and gently in an empty alley, just past the busy marketplace, which buzzes with voices and laughter.

  “All right, where’s the lamp?” Filomena asks.

  “Lamp?” says Alistair. “Oh, the lamp’s not here. It’s out in the far desert. Miles and miles away. But I thought we’d get something to eat first. I’m starving. The only thing the trolls fed me was soggy noodles.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  DESERT TREK

  “We’ve stopped for a snack?” Jack is beside himself.

  “Well, technically it’s lunchtime. So we’ll need more than a snack,” says Alistair, unperturbed.

  “What part of this-is-an-urgent-mission don’t you understand?” snaps Jack. “Those wolves are right. That ogre is going to come back and bring his friends with him. They’re probably following us right now.”

  “Relax, you’re paranoid,” says Alistair. “Ever since you killed that giant, you see ogres everywhere.”

  “They are everywhere,” Jack argues. “If you haven’t noticed, they’ve practically taken over all of Never After.”

  But Alistair won’t be dissuaded. “Ogres can’t run that fast. What part of I-haven’t-eaten-in-two-days don’t you understand?” he asks as he heads to the nearest food stall. He turns back to them with his hands on his hips. “You all probably stopped at an inn, didn’t you?”

  “Well…,” says Filomena, hedging on how much to admit.

  “And had Something Stew and Riotous Root Beers?” accused Alistair. “I smelled it as the trolls carried me past the river.”

  “It was dark!” says Jack. “We had to stop somewhere.”

  “Just like we’re stopping now,” says Alistair.

  “What’s going on?” asks Rolf. “Where’s the cave?”

  “Alistair is … having lunch,” says Jack through gritted teeth.

  “Oh! Lunch! And shopping!” Gretel claps her hands as she looks around the souk.

  “Gretel hasn’t eaten, either,” says Filomena, surrendering. “We probably should stop to have a bite.” After all, the sizzling smells of the market are tempting and hard to ignore.

  The wolves fan out into the souk, following their bellies. Rolf shrugs. “Sorry. We don’t get much in the forest. Even Grandma’s food gets tired after a while. But if the ogres did follow us here, we’ll be sure to sniff them out.”

  Jack knows he’s outnumbered. “Fine. Fine. We’re stopping for lunch. Fine.”

  Rolf catches up with his pack.

  Gretel loops her arm through Filomena’s. “Let’s go get lunch and then look around. I look a wreck after my kidnapping.”

  “This way!” says Alistair.

  Jack shakes his head and follows his friends into the market. Just as at the village souk, merchants of all kinds try to tempt shoppers with their wares, and even the food stalls are filled with salesmen seeking to lure diners. Before they can object, the four of them are seated at benches around a nearby table, plates piled high with bread and cheese in front of them.

  “Oooh, they have lamb kebabs,” says Alistair, who’s practically drooling as he reads the menu. He orders for the table, and soon there’s a proper feast of chicken, lamb, and steak kebabs, along with saffron-scented biryani, onion and tomato salads, and five kinds of hummus.

  After lunch, Gretel and Filomena
wander through the stalls. Gretel looks for just the perfect caftan—“I need something light and breathable, but also exquisite,” she decides.

  Jack reminds them to hurry and to watch out for ogres. Alistair goes his own way, muttering something about camels.

  The girls meander through the busy street market, stopping to glance at women’s clothing hung loosely on racks outside various shops and tents. They’re stopped several times by vendors trying to sell them overpriced goods, and Gretel firmly shakes her head once, eyeing what they’re offering.

  Finally, they stop at a small tent whose opening is hung with beads. They rattle and chime as Gretel goes in, but Filomena stops. She notices that Alistair has gone to see a man about a camel. The gentleman must offer camel-back rides through the desert, and Alistair has taken him aside and they are speaking quietly.

  “Filomena! Come see this! I think I found the one!” Gretel exclaims from inside.

  “Coming,” Filomena calls, taking her eyes from Alistair and walking through the beaded entrance of the tent.

  Gretel holds up a cream-and-aqua caftan with an intricate bead pattern on the front, wiggling it for Filomena to examine. “What do you think?”

  “It’s really pretty,” Filomena says, and she means it. The dress looks like it belongs on a princess, and for Gretel it’s perfect.

  Filomena waits while Gretel barters with the vendor, trading some of her sewing items and fabric for the dress. Once the exchange is made, Gretel skips to the back section of the tent to change. There’s a folding wall, giving customers an area where they can try the garments on in privacy.

  Gretel keeps her armor on underneath, but now instead of a torn and dirty jumpsuit, she’s wearing a floaty caftan. “How do I look?” she asks with a twirl.

  “You look great,” Filomena states, linking their arms once again and heading out of the tent. “I’m sure you’ll find a handsome prince who’ll love it. And you.”

  Gretel laughs. “I was just kidding about looking for a prince earlier. I don’t need a prince. I’ve taken over my dad’s business, and it’s doing so much better than it ever has. I’m my own princess already.”

  “You really are,” says Filomena, feeling a rush of warmth for her friend.