The next morning broke dark and gloomy. Thick, black clouds hung over them, and for Fred so did the constant realization that he would soon be completely on his own in this large, unknown world. The companions went on their way along the deserted road. No one else dared venture from their homes except to tend to necessary chores. There were also very few houses along the way, and none on the stretch of road they now found themselves.
Pat glanced up at the sky and frowned. "Do you think we'll make it to Tramadore before this storm hits?"
Ned, too, looked up and his furrowed his face. "The speed of the clouds is too great. It will strike us tonight."
The girl turned her head from side to side along the road. "Then we'll have to find a shelter or something to sleep in. Keep your eyes out for anything that can hold at least two of us."
Fred winced at the number; as the least important to the group he'd be the odd man out. The companions only stopped for a brief lunch and continued down the road. The trees grew closer to the dirt road and obscured their view of the mountains that crept ever closer. Fred stayed close to the others, fearful another of those tree monsters would snatch him away. He unconsciously reached up and grasped the broken stick at his waist. The feel of the wood beneath his fingers gave him comfort.
The weather worsened with the lengthening afternoon. The companions pushed onward while the wind picked up and tried to push them back. The clouds blocked the sun completely and the smell of rain permeated the air. Shadows crept from the trees over to the three, and in the darkness they grew cold.
Pat sidled up to Ned and nodded toward the trees. "We need to seek shelter in there," she yelled above the wind.
Ned shook his head. "I know of a small stone shelter beyond here. We can rest comfortably there."
"If that shelter still exists. You said you haven't been along here in ages," she reminded him.
"If I'm wrong then we will go into the trees," he acquiesced.
Fred wandered behind them, bundled in the borrowed cloak and miserable. The exhilaration of adventure languished beneath the harsh realities of road travel, and all he wanted was to be home. Hope revived in him when the pair ahead stopped; the shelter had been found. He hurried forward, expecting them to turn off, but they stood in the middle of the road. Fred saw they stared at something ahead on the road and followed their gaze. His eyes widened when he saw the road was covered in trees. The flora were tall, ancient oaks, and there were a half dozen with their roots firmly planted in the ground.
Pat glanced over to Ned. "Were these here the last time you went through?" Ned shook his head, and her lips pursed together. "Didn't think so."
"So what do we do now?" Fred asked them. Rain droplets bounced off of them; they would soon be caught in the full force of the storm.
The ones to answer his question were the trees. Their limbs groaned when they stretched out toward the companions, and their roots cracked as they broke from the hard soil. Fred's heart stopped beating when he realized these trees were the same as the one from last night, but there were a lot more.
Ned flung back his arms and herded the other two back. "Get back!" he commanded them. "These creatures must have heard the cry of their brethren and wish to avenge it!" He stepped forward and raised his staff above his head in a challenge to the angry trees.
Then Ned tripped over a rock and fell face-first into the hard dirt. For a few seconds Fred and Pat stared at him in disbelief. They snapped out of their daze when the trees roared with anger and stomped toward them. The pair rushed forward and each took a shoulder; they shook Ned hard, but he didn't awaken.
"Come on, Ned!" Pat cried out. She turned him over and held his head in her lap. Blood dripped from a small wound on his forehead. "You have to wake up!"
A smile slipped onto Ned's face, but his eyes didn't open. "Oh mommy, I saw a pretty tree today," he murmured.
Pat growled and whipped her head around to their oncoming enemies. She pushed Ned's head back into the dirt, stood and grabbed an arm. "Help me!" she hissed at Fred. Fred grabbed Ned's other arm, and together they tried to pull their unconscious companion away from the monsters. Ned's body didn't move an inch. "What's he got in that stupid cloak of his, a house full of pay-dirt?" Pat cried out. They tried again, but with the same result. She tossed Ned's arm aside and unsheathed her weapon. "Stay with him," she ordered Fred.
She didn't wait for Fred to nod before she stepped forward to face the creatures. They roared and let loose their limbs at her. She hacked what she could, leaving a pile of flopping, twitching branches at her feet. The creatures were hardly slowed by her efforts and formed a semi-circle around her. They sacrificed smaller limbs and followed them with the larger ones. Pat's sword sliced through the air as fast as she could manage, but a large branch blind-sided her. She was tossed to the ground and her sword slid off beneath the creatures. Their roots grabbed the weapon and dragged it beneath their bodies, and the companions heard a terrible snap as the blade broke in half.
Fred watched the horrific scene unfold as he knelt beside Ned. Pat flipped over onto her stomach and scrambled to her feet, but one of the trees caught her foot. She fell hard back to the ground and clawed at the dirt when it dragged her back. Fred shook Ned hard, but the old man didn't stir; maybe he was dead, or badly wounded. Either way he couldn't help Pat; the only one who could do that was Fred.
The boy looked around for something to help him, and remembered the broken stick at his waist. He pulled it out and the end held by the thin thread of leather knocked him in the face. Fred rubbed the bruised spot and dashed over to Pat. Other monster limbs had attached themselves to her arms, and they pulled back in different directions; they meant to tear her limbs off. Fred gave a great cry and whacked at the branches with his broken stick. Like a ruler on fingers, the creatures screamed and flinched back. That allowed Fred enough time to grab Pat and tear her from their grasp.
The trees weren't affected for long, and they came back with double the anger. Fred furiously swung his stick in every direction, deflecting and bruising the branches that came close. Pat climbed to her feet and he pulled her behind him. She didn't argue; he was the only one with a weapon. Fred and Pat stumbled backwards, and the creatures followed. The trees encircled the pair, blocking off their route to Ned and sealing them in a wall of whipping branches.
Pat pressed her back against Fred's and she clasped her hand in his; he felt her tremble with the fear of the horrible death that awaited them. "I-I'm sorry about all the bad things I said," she told him.
Fred squeezed her hand; he knew she hadn't meant any of it. "Don't give up just yet," he encouraged her.
She let out a barking laugh. "I'm pretty sure now's a pretty good time to give up." The trees edged closer and their mouths gnashed at the pair. Their branches shut off the light above them and slunk along the ground toward them. They were trapped; doomed.
Fred scowled and glanced at the thrashing creatures around them. He never imagined himself dying in such a gruesome, unheroic way; what would their deaths accomplish here? Nothing, and that made him mad. His hand gripped tightly the broken stick, and he was surprised when a sudden light pulsed at his side. Pat and he glanced down, and saw that the stick glowed. Fred raised the stick in front of him and watched in shock as the leather around the weapon untied itself. The feeble appearance of a broken stick fell away to reveal a long, smooth staff with a crook at the very top. Atop the crook lay a small, blue gemstone that gave off a new, brighter light. The creatures cried out against the burning brilliance and retreated a dozen yards.
Pat glanced over Fred's shoulder and her eyes widened. "Is that a castor staff?" she asked him.
Fred furiously shook his head. "I don't know, it just changed to this!"
The creatures covered their faces with their limbs and rekindled their attacks. The branches swept back toward them, but this time they had a different focus; the staff.
Pat ducked behind Fred and nodded at the oncoming enemies. "Well, whatever you did you'd better do something like it again!"
The smaller branches shot out ahead of the larger ones, and pointed their sharp ends at the pair like wooden daggers. Other limbs went for the staff to wrap themselves around the stick and break it apart. Fred thought about what he did to make it change; he'd gripped it tight. The boy did likewise, and this time with both hands. The light didn't grow brighter, and the creatures kept coming. The monstrous branch at the head of the onslaught propelled itself at his head, ready to stab right through him. Fred instinctively held up the staff in front of him to block the blow, and he slammed shut his eyes.
He heard a terrible scream and opened his eyes in time to see the end of the limb disintegrate. The creature's limb had collided with his staff, or rather with the pulsing shield of light that surrounded it. The branch shuddered and pulled back, but that didn't stop the rest of it from crumbling. The destruction swept up the length of the limb and into the main body of the tree. The creature cried out in agony when its body fell away into a pile of dust, and that was quickly taken by the wind. The other creatures scuttled back, but the shield of light expanded toward them like a giant wall of shimmering brilliance. The light swept over their branches and their bodies, sweeping them all away into oblivion. In a moment the danger was gone, destroyed by the staff that had been a broken stick a few minutes before.
Fred and Pat stood dumbfounded as the storm above them finally loosened the rain. The droplets fell on the remains of the creatures and sizzled atop their smoldering ashes. The boy glanced down at the staff in his hands. The light softened and faded, and with it went the magic. The staff transformed into its original shape of a broken stick wrapped in leather. Then the pair heard a slow clap. They whirled around ready for another fight, and saw Ned standing there with a smile on his face and no longer a wound on his forehead. "Bravo, my lad. I couldn't have done it in a flashier way if I'd tried."
After their initial shock at seeing him unharmed, Pat's eye twitched and her voice held a promise of violence. "You were never hurt, were you?"
The old man straightened himself and puffed out his chest. "Quite a good actor. I should have taken up theater."
Pat's fists clenched at her sides and Fred stepped away from her. "And you knew it would do that? That the stick would save us?" she asked him.
Ned sheepishly grinned. "Well, I knew Fred here had the talent, and the stick had the ability. Whether or not they could come together was a bit of a question."
The girl growled and launched herself at the old man. She grabbed his cloak and pulled their faces together. "You crazy old man! You could have gotten us all killed!" With each point she gave him a good shake.
"B-but I didn't!" he protested. "Besides, if things would have gotten worse I would have stepped in."
"How?" she challenged him.
Ned smirked and held out his hand that grasped the staff. "Like this." His staff was illuminated by a brilliant light like the one from Fred's stick, but much more intense. The heat itself forced Pat to release Ned and stumble back with her hand shielding her eyes. Fred did the same with his arms, and the pair blinked like hoot owls until Ned lowered his staff. The light faded and they were able to see Ned had a big grin on his face. "See? There was never anything to worry about."
Pat's anger wasn't quelled. "If you could do that than why didn't you do it from the start?"
Ned raised an eyebrow as though her question was foolish. "How were you both going to believe Fred was useful unless you witnessed it for yourselves?"
"Useful? You call dumb luck useful?" Pat snapped back. She waved her arm at the boy with his broken stick. "He was just lucky that that stick changed and saved us."
"Really? You think it was an accident?" Ned asked her.
Pat frowned. "No, I think anybody can save the day with the right weapon. He had the right weapon because you gave it to him. You wanted him to succeed so you could keep him around for some purpose I can't imagine."
Ned looked into her face, saw the seriousness of her accusation, and glanced over to Fred. "Fred, come here." Fred hesitated; he would rather hide away from this argument. Ned sternly looked the boy in the eyes. "Come here. I need to show you both something." Fred shuffled his way over to them, and Ned held out his hand. "Give me the stick." The boy did as he was bidden, and Ned turned to Pat; he held out the stick to her. "Show me how you are able to perform the same trick."
Pat scowled and swiped the stick from his hand. She looked it over for some secret button or magic touch spot, but saw nothing. Her hands felt all over the broken stick, going over every inch, but still nothing. She held it out as Fred had done; that added another failure to her list. Pat looked to Fred. "How do you get it to work?"
Fred held up his hands and shook his head. "No idea," he replied.
She glanced over to Ned. "What sort of trick is needed to open this up?"
Ned leaned on his staff and grinned. "No tricks, no lies. That is a castor staff in disguise."
"Very funny, but how do you get it to open?" she demanded to know.
The old man nodded his head toward Fred. "Ask him, he's the only one of us here who's ever been able to open it."
Pat blinked and glanced between the men. She pointed a finger at Fred. "Wait, so he's the only one who can do that. You can't?" Ned smiled and gave a nod. Pat looked back to Fred, and he cringed when her eyes narrowed. She marched up to him and shoved the stick into his hands. "Show us how you did it."
Fred was at a loss. "B-but I don't know how I did it. It just sort of happened."
"A castor staff appearing out of this old stick doesn't just sort of happen. You have to make it happen, now make it happen again," she ordered him.
Fred glanced over to Ned, who leaned over his own staff and shrugged. "Why does this matter, anyway?" Fred asked Pat. "We're alive, why should we care about an old stick that does that? His does that." He pointed at Ned.
"Don't you know anything about magic?" Pat scolded him. "These things just don't grow on trees."
Ned held up a finger. "Actually, castor staffs do grow on trees. The trees just have to be special."
Pat rolled her eyes. "Well, wherever they come from they're rare, and not everybody can use them. I want to know how you can use one."
"Isn't it obvious?" Ned asked her playfully.
Fred looked to Pat, Pat looked to Fred, and they both glanced at Ned. Pat gestured to the boy. "You're serious? This boy can't be one."
Ned chuckled. "And why can't he? You've seen the proof yourself. He has talent."
Fred's head swiveled between the pair. He had an inkling of what they were talking about, but couldn't grasp the enormity of it. "Wait, what? I've got talent for what?"
Pat sullenly scowled and didn't turn to Fred when she spoke. "This old man here says you have talent to become a castor."
The boy blinked. Then he glanced between them and their expressions, one amused and the other in angered disbelief. "So is this supposed to be a big deal? You two act like the color of the sky has changed."
Ned stepped forward and patted the boy on the back. "Maybe one day you'll see it do just that, but until then you have a very important decision to make."
"What's that?" Fred squeaked.
"You have to decide whether to go on with your normal, boring life, or becoming a castor."