“I need advice,” Mousey said to Sopher.

“Ask away,” said Sopher.

“I need to find my Mom before the Nocturnal Patrol does.”

Sopher nodded. “I can help with that. First of all, you’ll need something to hold in your paw. Something to focus your magic.”

Sir Ranae still stood nearby with his mouth hanging open. Whenever Mousey had gaped like that, his Mom always told him he had to be careful not to catch flies that way. Mousey considered making the joke here, but realized that it would not be as funny for his frog friend.

He returned his attention to Sopher. “Will this do?” he held up the stick that Sir Ranae had given him.

“You have a stave already?” Sopher asked. “It seems you are a few lessons ahead of me.”

“Not really a stave, it’s a crutch,” Mousey giggled. Then he stopped and looked at the stick. Its top reached up to the tips of his ears, and his paw naturally rested on the middle. Now that he really thought about it, in his fingers the crutch did resemble a typical wizard’s stave. Mousey laughed again and turned to Sir Ranae, “Well, it seems you’ve given me a wonderful gift after all. My very first wizard’s stave!”

Sir Ranae tilted his head to one side, then chuckled. “Oh? Well, much obliged to be of assistance.”

Mousey turned back to Sopher. “So, I have my magic stave. How will this help me find my Mom?”

“Close your eyes,” Sopher said.

Mousey did as he was instructed.

“Now, hold the stave in both paws, and try to picture your mother in your head,” said Sopher. “You’ll feel the stave start to pull in her direction. Tell me when you feel it.”

Mousey focused for a moment, recalling his mother’s face and voice. After a short while, he felt as if someone had grasped the other end of the stave, and pulled it in a new direction. “There!” he said, holding the stave pointed at the pull. He kept his eyes closed for the moment. “I feel it!”

“Good!” said Sopher, an almost giddy tone in her voice. “You’re doing beautifully, Mousey! You catch on quickly.”

Sir Ranae chuckled, “He’s a special young mouse, isn’t he?”

“Please, don’t interrupt,” said Sopher.

“Sorry.”

There was a moment of silence, then Sopher said, “All right, now, Mousey, I’m going to hold a map under your palm. Without looking, I want you to put your paw down where you think your mother is.”

Mousey heard the fluttering of paper, followed by Sir Ranae’s gasp. Soon, he felt a piece of parchment under his paw. He slid his pads along the parchment, until he felt a fluttering in his chest.

He tapped that part of the map. “Right there.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw the map floating in the air in front of Sopher, and a quill moved of its own accord to mark the spot he’d touched. The map fluttered as the wind blew under the door, and golden sparkles fell from underneath it.

Sopher held the map out to Sir Ranae. “I know you’ve seen more of the world than he has. Do you think you can find that spot?”

“Find it?” Sir Ranae repeated, his chin bulging out. “I know it well! ‘Tis the Trembling Bog, where the Toad King lives!”

“The Toad King?” Mousey gasped. “Aren’t his minions looking for you?”

“I’m not certain,” said Sir Ranae, licking one of his own eyeballs. “If he let Queen Felicia keep me as long as she did, he probably assumes I’m dead. More to the point, if your mother has wandered into his territory she may be in danger from more than just the Nocturnal Patrol.”

“Then, let’s hurry!” Mousey said. He picked up the book from the table, and Sopher’s spirit disappeared back into its pages, just before he returned her to his pocket.

Outside the farmhouse, Mousey asked Sir Ranae, “Can we sail to the Toad King’s lands?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Terribly sorry, but no,” said Sir Ranae. “Not from here, in any case. We’re going to have to walk most of the way.”

Mousey groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

They walked all day, and Mousey soon found himself further from home than he’d ever been by his own choice. So often his mother had told him, “Don’t wander too far,” when he’d gone out to play. Now that Okber, and any of the surrounding, recognizable features were out of sight, he couldn’t help but feel a mixed sense of adventure and unshakeable guilt.

“Your life is different now,” Sopher whispered in his mind. “All of the boundaries that

once held you in are gone. Now you just need time to realize what that means.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little confused at Sopher’s words. What boundaries held him before? He knew that in the tower he was trapped, and Sopher helped him escape that prison, but he’d never felt like a prisoner before that.

“In time you will understand,” she reassured him.

When night fell, Sir Ranae immediately took to picking up sticks from the ground, holding them in a bundle in his arms. “Mousey, I’m going to build us a shelter,” he said. “Find some smaller twigs for a campfire.”

“Yes, sir!” said Mousey, and he immediately set out to gather as many twigs as he could.

“We’ve been fortunate, so far, to be surrounded by so many berry bushes and apple trees,” said Sir Ranae, as he built their shelter. “But, as we get closer to the Trembling Bog, we’ll have a little more trouble finding food for you.”

“I’ll think of something.” Mousey shrugged. “Right now, all that matters is that we get to my Mom before the toads do. Frankly… I’d really prefer we didn’t even stop to camp.”

“You need sleep,” grunted Sir Ranae. “It will not do for you to find her while weakened by fatigue. What help would you be to her then?”

“What help am I to her if the toads get her first?” Mousey retorted.

Sir Ranae frowned and shook his head. “I understand you are worried, but remember, the toads aren’t looking for her. We have at least that advantage.”

“I suppose,” Mousey sighed and dropped the twigs he’d been gathering into a pile on the ground.

“Gather some rocks around that, if you could,” said Sir Ranae, putting the finishing touches on the hut. “I’ll light the fire in a moment.”

“I can light it,” said Mousey. He gathered a few stones around the pile of twigs, then held out his paw. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back to the candles his mother would sometimes light at night, then opened his eyes again to see a small flame floating over his paw.

“Be wary,” Sopher said. “Fire is unpredictable and hard to control. The tall apes ruled the world using its warmth, but even they sometimes had to fight it when it grew out of control.”

“I’ll be careful,” Mousey told her.

When he held the flame against the twigs, though, they smoked but did not burn. Mousey grumbled indignantly and held the flame against some of the larger twigs. Still nothing.

Sir Ranae walked over and sat beside him. “Here, let me help.” Sir Ranae rearranged the twigs into a shape where they all built to a point in the center, then scooped up bits of dry grass in his hand and held them out to Mousey. “Light this.”

Mousey held the flame to the kindling Sir Ranae had gathered, and Sir Ranae placed the kindling under the pile of twigs.

A short wait later, the campfire was started, and Sir Ranae beamed at Mousey. “This is your first campfire, I take it?”

“Very first one,” said Mousey with a nod. “I’ve never traveled before.”

Sopher spoke from within Mousey’s pocket. “Watch the fire tonight, before you go to sleep.” Sir Ranae jumped a little at the sound of Sopher’s voice. It seemed he often forgot she was there. “Get used to the way it moves and dances. Remember the smell of the smoke, and the feel of the fire’s warmth. Then, next time you need to make a campfire,

you can use magic.”

“Umm… Sopher…” said Sir Ranae, “Might I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course,” came Sopher’s voice from within Mousey’s pocket.

“No, I mean… in person…” Sir Ranae rubbed the back of his head. “Could you… appear… before me?”

Mousey’s pocket glowed for a moment, and Sopher’s spirit emerged between the two of them, as before. She turned her golden face to Sir Ranae and said, “Does this make it easier?”

“Far easier,” said Sir Ranae. “I was just thinking, you’ve taught Mousey some practical magic, but maybe it’s time to teach him some spells to use in battle?”

“I do not teach spells,” said Sopher, an indignant tone in her voice. “What I teach is—”

“That’s not the point,” Sir Ranae interrupted. “If we’re going into the Trembling Bog, Mousey will need to know how to use his magic to fight.”

Sopher grunted even greater indignation at this and folded her arms. “You want me to make him into a destroyer?”

Sir Ranae frowned. “Well, yes. He will traverse harm’s way. Knowledge of some destructive magic might be in order.”

“I didn’t choose to teach him magic so that he could cause hurt,” said Sopher.

“Then what is it for?” asked Sir Ranae, his tone growing increasingly agitated.

“To help,” Sopher responded, as if Sir Ranae’s question had been the most foolish thing she’d ever heard.

“Knights help folk too,” Sir Ranae croaked in disgust. “And sometimes we do so by fighting.”

Mousey could sense that this argument was bound to get uglier if he didn’t step in, and he hated the idea of his two friends fighting. “Sopher!” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Sopher, I understand why you don’t want to teach me to hurt others. I remember how much destruction the Queen’s thunderstorm caused. I don’t want to be like her. But, maybe you could teach me ways to… well, protect myself? A knight like Sir Ranae usually uses a sword and a shield. Maybe you can teach me how to use magic like a shield?”

There was a brief pause, and finally Sopher said, “I can teach you that. And, maybe someday I’ll teach you destructive magic too, but not yet. I want you to be ready to learn that kind of power before I teach it.”

“Thank you, Sopher,” said Mousey, patting his pocket, where the book still rested.

To his surprise, some of the gold on Sopher’s face, just under her eyes, turned red. “No, thank you,” she said. “Tonight, in your dreams, I shall teach you how to defend yourself. Sleep well.”