The Heroes

Impostor

They were standing among short, broad-leaved grasses dotted with small blue flowers. Almost like a lawn, the green stretched away in rolling waves on either side of the road. Mr. Magnus had spoken of. It was really no more than a track , bare and dusty , running up out of a valley and going toward an immense wood that hung across the horizontal like a dark green cloud . Beyond the wood , the jagged shapes of mountain lifted , pale blue and mist-hung , with one great peak rising above the others to a sharp point .  The boys took to the road ,spears in hand, packs on their backs . An hour’s walk brought them under the branches of the first trees. By then, they were sweating and dusty , and grateful for the shade. They pulled out their bottles and wished for cold water . After drinking , Jesse poured some over his wrist . “It cool you off,” he explained. “My grandfather , who used to do a lot of hiking and hunting, told me about it.”

Before them, the road forked. At the fork a triangular stone, scaly with lichen , was set upright. On each of its faces marks were cut, perhaps the distances to various places , but the boy’s couldn’t read them.

“Let’s see the map,” Rich said, impatiently. Rich grabbed it and tried to pull it out of Jesse’s hands. Jesse clung to it. And all at once, with a sharp sound like a sneeze, it ripped. They stood gaping at the pieces. The paper was torn, a piece of its surface had lifted off so that nothing that had been there could be made out . All that part which showed the track through the forest ,and the spot where it emerged near the mountains, was destroyed.  They folded the map ,putting the smaller piece inside the larger.  It’s getting late. They opened their packs and took out the blanket , spreading them on the moss that covered the ground near the stone . They ask something to eat from what was given by Mr. Magnus.

It’s getting late. They opened their packs and took out the blanket, spreading  them on the moss that covered the ground near the stone. They ask something to eat from what was given by Mr. Magnus .

“Look ,” Jesse said, holding out his bowl. “These things can clean themselves. Wouldn’t it be neat to take them back with us?”

“I’ll bet they wouldn’t work at home.”

“Why not?”

“Stands to reason. Things here work by different rules from home. Rules—that’s science, the laws of matter. Like the Second Law of Thermodynamics.” He laughed. “I guess you wouldn’t know about that, huh? Anyway, the laws here are different because what we call magic they call science. If we brought a TV set here, it probably wouldn’t work.”

“Oh,” said Jesse. All at once, he found himself envying Rich for knowing  the things he had never paid much attention to .

And in the morning when Jesse had just thrown aside his blanket when he saw the face peering at him from around a tree. They were attack by the Dhones. They get scared because of the faces of the Dhones. Fortunately, a man in scaly armor was slashing at the Dhones with a long curved sword. They thank the man who named Bazan the Swordsman, They let him join their evening . Bazan told them the right way to Mount Teshombara so they followed him but  it takes days to finally saw a canyon . As the shadows lengthened, they entered a canyon. They followed it, their footsteps echoing between its walls. At its end , the ground fell away steeply . A path zig zagged down to a wide ledge which jutted out over the valley far below. On the ledge a few stunted trees clung, and a thread of water came from the rocks and flowed first into a pool and then over the edge. A hut was perched among the trees.

Jesse knocked at the door.

“Come in,” someone said.

He pushed the door open and went in, with the others close behind. There was only one room. A pile of dried ferns in a corner with a blanket neatly folded on it did duty for a bed. There was a wooden table with two rude benches near one wall, and a heavy chest near another, and that was all the furniture. Over the fire on a projecting iron arm hung a bubbling pot and kettle.