The Magnificent 12 by Michael Grant

stared.
    â€œI weel not marry Sean Patrick MacAvoy,” Boguslawa said breathlessly. “He is run away. I weel marry you. My hero!”
    â€œHuh,” Stefan said, meaning, “Uh-oh.”
    â€œWhat. Wait. What?” Mack squeaked. “No. Wait.”
    â€œI am wanting man who is strong and brave,” Boguslawa insisted. “Not frighten lady-boy Sean Patrick, run away poof!”
    They could have discussed it in more detail but they heard pounding hooves and deep, manly shouts, and there was no way to know if they were good guys or bad guys. For that matter, how did they even know which side were the good guys?
    So they ran. Twigs and thorns tore at Mack’s unprotected feet, but that was better than waiting around to get a sword stuck in him.
    To Xiao, Mack said, “Can you carry the three of us?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” she said. “But I can probably scare off our pursuers.”
    Sure enough, she transformed into her real self and slithered neatly through the trees. Within a few minutes Mack heard confused shouts of terror and the loud whinnying of scared horses. Xiao, in human form again, came back more slowly, leading two horses.
    To keep the weight balanced equally on the horses, they put their largest person (Stefan) and their smallest person (Xiao) together on one horse while Mack and Boguslawa shared the other.
    Which meant Boguslawa riding with her arms around Mack’s waist and her head resting on his shoulder while he desperately considered how he was going to get out of this mess.
    At least Valin wasn’t with them, and with any luck at all, he would never see them.
    They kept on through the woods with no real idea where they were going, and Mack was beginning to despair. “We have to get back to our own time. The Pale Queen is coming and we’re, like, four hundred years away from it. Besides, I don’t want to live in the seventeenth century. We have a job to do. We’re supposed to save the world—four hundred years from now!”
    â€œI never even got any lentils,” Stefan said.
    â€œThere may be food in the saddlebags,” Xiao suggested.
    So they looked. Some sort of jerky and . . . yes, lentils!
    â€œThat’s lentils?” Stefan asked, disappointed. “Huh.”
    â€œListen, Boguslawa, you have to marry Sean Patrick.” Mack really wished he had shoes while giving an impassioned speech from horseback. He half turned in the saddle so she could see his face. “The fate of the world depends on it. If you don’t marry Sean Patrick, all that is good and decent will die.”
    â€œI am marry you, Meck. Sean Patrick he is baby crying and run away. Meck is brave like lion.”
    â€œWait. What if . . . What if it was Sean Patrick who was brave and I was a coward?”
    Boguslawa shrugged. “I am daughter of Taras Bulba. I must marry brave man, not coward.”
    Mack sighed. “We have to find Valin and Sean Patrick.”
    Xiao shook her head. “If we find Sean Patrick, we will find Valin, too, I believe.”
    And so they rode off toward the east, not realizing that was the wrong way. They really had no idea where they were going. But there was no one to ask directions of, and horses just do not come with a built-in navigation system.
    Mack even tried the maps app on his phone. He knew it wouldn’t work, but it comforted him somehow to have this shiny object from the future as a reminder.
    Then he saw that he’d had a call. And a voice mail. Both from the golem. Sadly the message could not be played because, well, pretty much every single thing that would make voice mail possible didn’t exist yet.
    It worried him. But then, he had plenty of other things to worry about. The golem would have to manage on his own.

Eleven
    MEANWHILE, 7,831 MILES (AND 400 YEARS) AWAY, IN SEDONA, ARIZONA
    C amaro lay dying.
    But she didn’t die.
    Oh, she should have. The