forge.
Today, Tom was taking a sack of newly mended tools to Farmer Gretlin. Along the way, he had stopped in the forest to practice his sword-fighting moves on the dummy he had made a few weeks ago. He trained whenever he could. If he ever had the chance to have a real sword fight, he’d be ready!
Tom gave the target a firm blow with the poker. “One day I’ll be the finest swordsman in all of the kingdom of Avantia,” he announced. “Even better than my father, Taladon the Swift!”
Tom had heard many people in the village praise Taladon’s swordsmanship. But he had never seen it for himself. Tom’s mother had died of a fever when he was just a baby. That same day, his father had left on a mysterious quest and never returned. As Head of Errinel village and Tom’s closest relative, Uncle Henry had announced that he and his wife, Maria, would raise him as their own son.
Tom was grateful to his uncle and trained hard as a blacksmith’s apprentice. But he often dreamed of leaving Errinel, just as his father had. He wanted to taste adventure for real — dreams just weren’t enough anymore. But most of all, he wanted to find his father and ask him why he had left.
Tom shoved the poker back into the sack of tools. “One day I’ll know the truth,” he swore.
Summer was giving way to autumn, and Tom shivered as he walked beneath the shadows cast by the trees’ heavy branches. It was hard-going along the overgrown forest path. Branches tore at Tom’s clothes and scratched his face. Stumbling over tree roots, Tom struggled on. As he neared the edge of the woods, he smelled something strange.
Smoke!
he thought as the sharp smell caught at the back of his throat.
He stopped and looked around. Through the trees to his left he could hear a faint crackling as a wave of warm air hit him.
Fire!
Tom began to push his way through the trees. Heart pounding, he forced his way through a thicket and burst into the field. The golden wheat had been burned to black stubble. A thin veil of smoke hung in the air, small flames still licked atthe edges of the field. Tom stared in horror. What had happened?
A shadow fell over him. Tom looked up and blinked. For a second he thought he saw a dark, fleeting shape disappear behind a hill in the distance. Had his eyes been playing tricks on him?
“Who’s there?”
Through the smoke, Tom saw a man stamping across the field. Forgetting the shadow, he hurried forward to meet him.
“Did you come through the woods?” Gretlin demanded. “Did you see anyone who could have done this?”
Tom shook his head. “No one! I didn’t see a soul in the woods.”
“There’s evil at work here,” said Gretlin, his eyes flashing angrily. “Only ten minutes ago, this wheat was as tall as your shoulders. I was working in the barn when I heard a strange noise, like a fierce wind. I rushed outside to find …
this.”
Gretlinstared at the blackened field. “Mark my words — no ordinary fire did this. Just like no ordinary fire took John Blake’s horses.”
A shiver of fear went through Tom. John Blake lived at the edge of Errinel, and two weeks ago he had lost three of his horses during the night. Their bones were found the next day, in a smoking pit at the foot of the valley — roasted and picked clean. “The old ones are talking in the village,” said Gretlin, shaking his head. “They say dark forces are gathering… .”
Tom looked around at the burned field and felt a wave of anger. Someone needed to stop this. If only he was older!
I’d do it,
he thought.
I’d stop things like this happening in our kingdom.
“Go back to the forge, Tom,” Gretlin said. “Tell your uncle what’s happened here! I’m worried that Errinel is cursed — and maybe all of us along with it!”
C HAPTER T WO
A R EAL Q UEST
T HE SUN HOVERED LOW AND PINK ABOVE THE distant hills. Villagers crowded into the market square, jostling for space. Tom had never seen the square so full of people, and