Fablehaven2-Rise of the Evening Star Read online

  Incredible strength, Coulter commented. He should

  be cooling down by now.

  Sure enough, after a few moments, the giant trudged

  over and retrieved his club. Then he came and stood towering

  over the dome. Much of the mud had fallen from his

  face. After the food and the exertion, his complexion was

  ruddier. More, he demanded, pointing at his mouth.

  We agreed on a single buffalo, Coulter called to him.

  Burlox grimaced, revealing weeds and bark and fur in his

  teeth. He stamped a massive foot. More! It came across as

  a roar rather than a word.

  You said you knew a place Warren had been exploring

  before he turned white, Coulter said. We had a deal.

  More after, Burlox grunted threateningly.

  If we give you anything else, it will be out of kindness,

  not obligation. A deal is a deal. Was the buffalo not delicious?

  Four hills, the giant spat, before pivoting and stalking

  away.

  The four hills, Coulter repeated softly, watching the

  enormous figure vanish into the mist. He clapped Seth on

  the back. We just got what we came here for, my boy. A

  bona fide lead.

  Kendra reached into the sack and then sprinkled raisins

  into the glass cylinder. The orange mass at the bottom oozed

  toward the raisins like living pudding, covering them and

  slowly darkening to a deep red. You have gross pets,

  Kendra said.

  Vanessa lifted her gaze from the journal she was studying.

  Wizard slime looks unappetizing, but no other substance

  can equal its ability to draw out the poison from

  infected tissue. All of my darlings have their uses.

  Unusual animals occupied most of Vanessa's room.

  Cages, buckets, aquariums, and terrariums contained a

  stunning variety of inhabitants. Whether they looked like

  reptiles, mammals, arachnids, amphibians, insects, sponges,

  fungi, or something in between, all were magical. There was

  a colorful lizard with three eyes that was nearly impossible

  to pick up because it could see slightly into the future and

  avoid your every move. A hairless mouse that transformed

  into a fish if you dropped it in water. And a bat who shed her

  wings biweekly-if the discarded wings were quickly pressed

  against another creature, they would take hold and grow.

  Vanessa had used them to create a flying rabbit.

  Aside from the dozens of life forms in their respective

  containers, stacks of books dominated the room. The majority

  were bulky reference books and leather-bound journals of

  previous Fablehaven caretakers. Bookmarks protruded from

  the journals, marking pages of interest Vanessa had discovered

  during her research.

  I'm not sure I could sleep surrounded by so many freaky

  animals, Kendra said.

  Vanessa closed the journal she was reading, marking the

  page with a silk ribbon. I've rendered the truly dangerous

  whirligigs harmless, like the drumants. None of the creatures

  I brought into Fablehaven could cause anyone serious

  harm.

  I got nipped last night, Kendra said, holding out her

  arm to show the bite marks in the crook of her elbow. Slept

  right through it.

  I'm sorry, Vanessa said. I have fifteen in the cage

  now.

  Which means four are running loose, Kendra said

  gruffly, imitating Coulter.

  Vanessa smiled. He means well.

  He's not winning any points by taking off with Seth

  and leaving me behind. If he gave me the choice, I would

  probably volunteer to skip some excursions. I mean, I could

  probably go my whole life without seeing a buffalo eaten

  alive and be just fine. But being told to stay behind feels different.

  Vanessa stood up and crossed to a chest of drawers. I

  suspect I would feel the same way. She opened a drawer and

  started rummaging. It seems only fair that I should share a

  secret with you. She removed a candle and what looked

  like a long, translucent crayon.

  What are those? Kendra asked.

  In rain forests around the world, you can find tiny

  sprites called umites that make honey and wax like bees. In

  fact, they dwell in almost hivelike communities. This marker

  and candle are both composed of umite wax. Vanessa wrote

  on the front of the drawer with the clear waxen marker. See

  anything?

  No.

  Watch. Vanessa struck a match and lit the candle.

  Once a flame burned on the wick, the entire candle glowed

  yellow, as did the marker, as did a vivid message on the front

  of the drawer:

  Hi Kendra!

  Cool, Kendra said.

  Try to wipe it off, Vanessa said.

  Kendra tried to wipe away the words to no avail. As

  soon as Vanessa blew out the candle, the message vanished.

  Vanessa handed the crayon and the candle to Kendra. For

  me? Kendra asked.

  I have spares. Now we can send each other secret messages,

  and none of the boys will know. I always carry one of

  those markers on me. They write surprisingly well on nearly

  any surface, the messages are difficult to erase, and only

  those with a properly enchanted umite candle can read

  them. I've used umite wax to mark myself a trail, to send a

  sensitive communique to a friend, and to remind myself of

  important secrets.

  Thanks, what a great gift!

  Vanessa winked. We're pen pals.

  Seth watched Coulter mount the steps to the back porch

  and enter the house. He knew his window of opportunity

  might be brief, so he hurried past the barn to a tree beside a

  path into the woods. It was the same path that led to the

  greenhouse where he and Kendra had harvested pumpkins

  the previous year. That morning, before anyone was awake,

  Seth had left a note at the base of that tree under a rock.

  The year before, after Kendra had saved Fablehaven and

  while she slept for two days straight, Seth had held a private

  meeting with the satyrs, Newel and Doren. Most of the

  inhabitants of Fablehaven were not permitted in the yard

  uninvited, so the satyrs had stood at the edge of the yard and

  beckoned Seth over. They had agreed that when Seth

  returned to Fablehaven, he would bring size C batteries and

  leave a note under the rock. Newel and Doren would

  recover the note and leave instructions for a meeting, where

  they would exchange gold for the treasured batteries that

  would bring new life to their portable television.

  Seth squatted at the base of the tree. Even though

  he had left the note in the morning and it was now late

  afternoon, it was almost too much to hope that the satyrs

  would have already responded. Who knew how often they

  would check? Knowing them, maybe never. Seth picked up

  the rock. On the back of his note the satyrs had scrawled a

  message:

  If you get this today, follow this path, take your

  second left, first right, keep on until you hear us.

  You'll hear us. If you get this tomorrow, it will say

  something else!

/>   Excited, Seth stuffed the note in his pocket and set off

  down the path. He had eight size C batteries in the bottom

  of his emergency kit. After he sold those, and the satyrs were

  hooked, he figured he could sell the rest for even more. If

  everything panned out, he would be retired before reaching

  high school!

  Walking briskly, Seth took about six minutes to reach

  the second left, and about four more to reach the next right.

  At least, he hoped it was the next right. It was a scant trail,

  less inviting than the fake one Coulter had shown him in

  the swamp. But the satyrs had said first right, so they must

  have meant this little trail. He wasn't too far from the yard,

  so Seth felt confident it would be safe.

  The farther he went, the thicker the woods and undergrowth

  around the little trail became. He was beginning to

  consider doubling back and waiting for a second message

  from the satyrs when he heard shouting up ahead. It was definitely

  the goatmen. He jogged forward. The closer he got,

  the more clearly he could hear them.

  Are you out of your skull? one voice griped. That was

  right on the line!

  I'm telling you, I saw daylight between the line and the

  ball, and it's my call, a strident voice answered.

  Is that fun for you? To win by cheating? Why even

  play?

  You aren't going to guilt me out of my point, Newel!

  We better arm wrestle for it.

  What would an arm wrestle prove? It's my call, and I

  say it was out.

  Seth had drawn even with the argument. He could not

  see the satyrs, but he could hear that they were not far off

  the path. He started shoving through the undergrowth.

  Your call? Last time I checked, it takes two to play. I'm

  ahead; maybe I'll quit right now and declare myself champion.

  Then I'll declare myself champion too, because that

  would be an indisputable forfeit.

  I'll show you an indisputable forfeit!

  Seth pushed between some bushes and stepped onto a

  level, well-trimmed grass tennis court. The court had neatly

  chalked lines and a regulation-style net. Newel and Doren

  stood at the far side of the court, faces red, each clutching a

  tennis racket. They looked like they were about to come to

  blows. As Seth emerged onto the court, they turned to face

  him.

  Both of the satyrs were shirtless, with hairy chests and

  freckled shoulders. From the waist down they had the furry

  legs and hooves of a goat. Newel had redder hair, more

  freckles, and slightly longer horns than Doren.

  Glad you found us, Newel said, trying to smile. Sorry

  you happened by when Doren was being a knucklehead.

  Maybe Seth can solve this one, Doren said.

  Newel closed his eyes in exasperation. He wasn't here

  to see the point.

  If you both think you're right, do it over, Seth said.

  Newel opened his eyes. I could live with that.

  Me too, Doren agreed. Seth, your new nickname is

  Solomon.

  You mind letting us finish this game? Newel asked.

  Just so we can keep momentum? No fun to start again

  cold.

  Go ahead, Seth said.

  You be line judge, Doren said.

  Sure.

  The goatmen trotted into position. Newel was serving.

  Forty-fifteen, he called, tossing a ball into the air and hitting

  it briskly into play. Doren hit a hard crosscourt forehand,

  but Newel was in position and hit it back with a

  gentle slice that took a soft bounce with a lot of spin. It

  looked unreachable, but Doren dove and managed to get his

  racket under the ball before the second bounce, popping it

  over the net. Newel had read the situation well and was

  already charging forward. As Doren scrambled up, Newel

  slammed the ball into the far corner of the court, bouncing

  it deep into the bushes.

  Go fetch it, nitwit! Doren said. You didn't have to

  wail it into the woods. You had an open lane.

  He's sore because I just went up five games to three,

  Newel explained, twirling his racket.

  I'm sore because you're trying to show off for Seth!

  Doren said.

  You're saying you wouldn't have slammed it if I'd hit

  you apathetic lob?

  You were at the net! I would have just tapped it at a

  brutal angle. Better to win with finesse than to hunt for balls

  in the shrubbery.

  You're both really good, Seth said.

  The two goatmen looked pleased by the compliment.

  You know, satyrs invented tennis, Newel said, balancing

  his racket on the tip of his finger.

  They did not, Doren said. We learned about it on

  TV.

  I like your rackets, Seth said.

  Graphite, light and strong, Newel said. Warren got us

  our equipment. Back before he went all Boo Radley on us.

  The net, the rackets, a few cases of balls.

  We built the court, Doren said proudly.

  And we maintain it, Newel said.

  The brownies maintain it, Doren corrected.

  Under our supervision, Newel amended.

  Speaking of tennis balls, Doren said, most of ours are

  flat, but with the supply dwindling, it always kills us to open

  a new can. If our battery arrangement works out, think you

  night be able to score us some new balls?

  If this works out, I'll get you whatever you want, Seth

  promised.

  Then let's get down to business, Newel said, setting

  down his racket and rubbing his palms together. You have

  the merchandise?

  Seth scrabbled through his emergency kit and pulled out

  eight batteries, lining them up on the ground.

  Would you look at that, Doren marveled. Have you

  ever seen such a gorgeous sight?

  It's a start, Newel said. But let's face it, they'll run out

  before long. I assume there are more where those came

  from?

  Lots more, Seth assured him. This is just a test run. If

  I remember right, you said something about batteries being

  worth their weight in gold.

  Newel and Doren shared a glance. We think we may

  have figured out something you'd like more, Newel said.

  Follow us, Doren said.

  Seth walked with the satyrs over to a little white shed

  not far from the net. Newel opened the door and ducked

  inside. He came out holding a bottle. What do you say?

  Newel asked. A bottle of fine wine for those eight batteries.

  Potent stuff, Doren confided. It'll put hair on your

  chest in no time. Good luck getting something like that

  from your grandparents.

  Seth looked back and forth at the two satyrs. Are you

  serious? I'm twelve years old! Do you think I'm an alcoholic

  or something?

  We figured something like this might be tough for you

  to get, Newel said with a wink.

  Good wine, Doren said. Primo.

  That might be true, but I'm just a kid. What am I going

  to do with a bottle of wine?

  Newel and Doren shared a nervous glance. Well done,

  Seth, Newel said awkwardly, ruffling his hair. You…r />
  passed our test. Your parents would be very proud.

  Newel elbowed Doren. Yeah, um, sometimes we test

  people, Doren said. And play jokes.

  Newel went back into the shed. He returned holding a

  blue frog with yellow markings. Seriously, here is what we

  really had in mind, Seth.

  A frog? Seth asked.

  Not just any frog, Doren said. Show him.

  Newel tickled the frog's belly. Its air sac swelled up to the

  size of a cantaloupe, and the frog let out a tremendous belching

  sound. Seth laughed in surprised delight. The satyrs

  laughed with him. Newel tickled the frog again and the

  thunderous belching sound repeated. Doren was wiping

  away mirthful tears.

  So what do you say? Newel asked.

  Eight lousy batteries for one incredible frog, Doren

  said. I'd take it.

  Seth folded his arms. The frog is pretty cool, but I'm

  not five years old. If it's between gold and a burping frog, I'll

  take the gold.

  The satyrs frowned, clearly disappointed. Newel nodded

  at Doren, who slipped into the shed and returned holding a

  bar of gold. He handed it to Seth.

  Seth turned the bar over and over in his hands. It was

  about the size of a bar of hotel soap. An N was embossed

  on one side. Otherwise it was a plain, golden rectangle, a

  little heavier than it looked. Probably enough gold to be

  worth a lot of money.

  This is more like it, Seth said happily, placing the gold

  inside his emergency kit. What does the 'N' stand for?

  Newel scratched his head. Nothing.

  Right, Doren said hastily. Stands for 'nothing.'

  Nothing? Seth said dubiously. Why would somebody

  write an 'N' for 'nothing'? Why not just leave it blank?

  Newel, Doren tried. It stands for Newel.

  Used to be my favorite belt buckle, Newel added

  wistfully.

  You wore pants? Seth asked.

  Long story, Newel explained. Let's not dwell on the

  past. Fact is, there are more-um-belt buckles where that

  came from, all pure gold. You bring us more batteries, we'll

  keep trading with you.

  Works for me, Seth said.

  This could be the beginning of a spectacular partnership,

  Newel said.

  Doren raised a cautionary hand, halting the conversation.

  You hear that?

  The three of them paused, listening. Something's corning,

  Newel said, eyebrows knitting together. No matter how

  the satyrs behaved, they usually had an air about them that

  everything they said was tongue-in-cheek. That air was