As soon as Blue bolted for the barn, dragging Colton along with him (https://margecutter.wordpress.com/2019/10/06/heading-for-the-trail-ride/), Anna dropped Rosie’s reins and raced after her son. My characters started to follow.
“Hold it!” I quickly dismounted, turned to my characters, and put up my hands to stop the stampede. “Clara, Rocky, come with me. Everyone else stay here with the horses. And one of you grab Rosie so she doesn’t step on her reins and hurt herself.”
Anna had already reached Colton and Blue by the time my two characters and I entered the barn. I heard the panic in her voice when she spoke to her son. “Are you all right, Colton? What happened?”
Colton turned toward his mom’s voice. “I’m okay, mom, really. I just don’t know what happened out there. Blue had been doing so well with his training. He’s never run off like this before! Is he okay? He’s not hurt, is he?”
“Do not worry, Colton. Clara will examine him. She is very good with horses.” Rocky joined Colton and his mom and put a hand on Colton’s shoulder. The boy nodded and smiled at Rocky.
Clara walked over to the wide-eyed pony, who snorted and pinned his ears back. Slowly, as Clara murmured soothingly to him, Blue relaxed. He rubbed his head against Clara’s shoulder and nickered. “He appears to be uninjured, Colton. He just seems to be fearful of something.”
“Maybe you were right, Marge.” Anna looked up from where she was still fussing over her son, checking him for cuts and bruises. “Maybe Blue just got spooked by so many new horses all at once.”
Clara stroked the pony’s neck. She leaned against the sturdy animal, placing her forehead to his. After a few moments, she turned to face me. She gave me an almost imperceptible shake of her head and whispered so Anna and Colton could not hear. “I do not believe it was the horses that alarmed Blue.”
I furrowed my brow. I wanted to question my Cleric but knew I could not speak with her in front of Anna and Colton, who only knew her as my friend, Clara. It would be far too difficult to try to explain her real identity and origin. It could also be dangerous for all my characters should the wrong people ever learned of their existence.
I removed my hat, raked my hand through my hair, then plopped the hat back on my head. “Anna, why don’t you and Rocky take Colton back outside? It will be easier to check for injuries in the sunlight. Clara and I will stay here with Blue until he is completely calm.”
Anna nodded, and helped her son navigate the pathway to the door. “There’s a bale of hay there, Colton. We have to walk around it.”
“I know, mom.” Colton grinned, and turned back to where he had last heard our voices. “Gee, the way she treats me, you’d think I was blind or something.”
“Oh, Colton!” Anna did not sound amused.
Rocky laughed, though, and leaned over to whisper to the other boy. “You and I share the same sense of humor, Colton!”
Colton let his mom and Rocky lead him the rest of the way to the barn door. I waited until they were outside before turning to Clara. “Okay, what did Blue tell you?”
Clara, my Cleric with the innate ability to communicate with animals, continued to stroke Blue’s neck. “He planted a picture in my mind. From the image, I believe there is someone lurking around the farm, someone not very nice.”
I frowned. “Can Blue determine the person’s motives for lurking?”
Clara sighed. “If he can, he is unable to communicate them to me. That is too complex a concept to express in an image.”
I rubbed my jaw. “Can you describe for me this lurker Blue revealed to you?”
Clara nodded. “It is an older human male, with a bald head, but neatly trimmed facial hair . . . what I believe you term a mustache and a goatee. He wears small, rectangular spectacles with dark frames, a threadbare suit of indistinct color, and a funny little bow around the collar of his shirt.”
My jaw dropped. “What? That sounds like Arthur from the writers’ group Lost in the Words!” https://margecutter.wordpress.com/2019/09/01/still-searching-for-answers/
I shook my head and scoffed. “But what would Arthur be doing here, lurking? If he has legitimate business here, why not just announce himself?”
Clara shrugged. “We should take Blue outside. Maybe he can show us where this Arthur person is and you can ask him that question.”
I nodded.
Clara placed her forehead on Blue’s again and communicated to him our intention. Once he understood, Blue seemed perfectly content following us out of the barn. Once outside, he tugged on his lead and led Clara over to where my other characters had gathered around Colton and his mom. The pony ignored my characters and the illusory horses. He nickered and rubbed his head against Colton’s shoulder.
“Aw, that’s okay, boy. I know you didn’t mean to do anything that could have gotten me hurt. You were just frightened of something.” Colton put his arms around Blue’s neck and gave the pony a hug.
“Whatever frightened him before does not seem to be bothering him now, so it could not have been our horses.” Rocky gestured toward the illusory horses milling around behind my other characters and looked at Clara. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, but she shook her head.
Anna sighed. “Well, I hate to be a wet blanket, but I think we should call off the trail ride.”
“Aw, mom!” Colton’s face crumpled. “I’ve been looking forward to this so much, and our friends came all the way over here . . .” The boy swiped at a tear that threatened to roll down his cheek.
Anna pursed her lips at her son’s inevitable protest. “I know, honey, but I just think it’s too dangerous for you to be riding Blue on the trail if there’s any chance he might bolt again.”
“Anna, I’d like to try something, if it’s okay with you and Colton.”
“What do you want to try, Marge?” It was Colton who answered.
“Well, Colton, I’d like to have Clara lead Blue around out here and see if we can discover what he’s afraid of.” I answered the question for Colton but looked at Anna for approval.
“I’m okay with that, if Colton is.”
Colton nodded. “It would be good to find out, so we can help him overcome his fear.”
I gestured to my other characters to take their horses and move back, giving Clara and Blue some room. Then Clara started to lead Blue over to where he and Colton had been standing when the pony had bolted. “We’ll start there and see what happens.”
The pair had not taken two steps when Blue planted his feet, pinned his ears back, and whinnied loudly.
I followed the pony’s gaze. “Well, let’s see what’s upsetting Blue.” I walked over to a nearby thicket and parted the thick vegetation. “Well, would you look at this! Care to explain what you’re doing hiding in a clump of bushes, Arthur?”
What is Arthur doing lurking around Anna’s farm? Be sure to come back next week and see how he explains his actions. We’ll leave the porch light on for you.
As I swung up onto the compact blanket Appaloosa Dragon had created for me, I called to my characters, “Everyone needs to remember the names we used last time. Do not slip and call me Mistress. You may call me Missy, as is your custom in public, even though Anna and Colton will be calling me Marge. This black and white appy I’m riding is Scribe.”
I almost fell off my horse in a dead faint when I saw the little girl’s eyes widen, and I watched her tug on her mother’s skirt. When she pointed in our direction, Dray and I exchanged looks bordering on shear panic. Our wide-eyed dread turned to relief, as Marisol continued to point, her gesture following the path of a fat, sassy squirrel that had been running alongside our horses. The child and her mother laughed at the animal as it scrambled up a tree, and sat there, clutching an acorn and scolding loudly. We continued trotting along the street and headed, still unseen, toward our destination.
It took us less than an hour to make the trip to Anna’s farm. Half-way there, after traveling for fifteen minutes along a wide dirt road remarkably devoid of traffic, Dray released the spell of concealment that had kept horses and riders hidden from passersby. Moments later, we left the road and walked our mounts carefully along an overgrown two-track that would take us to our destination.
Moments later, the young boy came out of the barn, shoving one arm into the sleeve of his jacket as he held his pony’s lead with the other hand. “Did I hear voices?”
I was just heading for my office when Dragon, in her preferred guise of an elf maiden, emerged from the conference room. She had been in there working with the scrolls she had obtained at the Chris-Tal Clear Metaphysical Store.
Dragon looked tired but wore a satisfied smile. “I have cast the first spell, the one provided by Talia. I should now be well protected from our young neighbor, Marisol – or anyone else. No one should be able to see my true nature when I have used my shapeshifting ability to assume another form. And, unlike the previous ward I used when Marisol was around, maintaining this spell should not drain all my energy or use all my power.”
Dragon shrugged and chewed on her lower lip. “I have prepared the spell components and I have committed to memory the words of the incantation. Now, I just need to be in the presence of the child so I can cast the spell.”
Dragon shook her head. “I will do that now. I will cast the spell of concealment on the property first, so any illusions I create will be hidden from all but those of us who live here. Everything that is real will remain visible to all and sundry, but the horses and barn, as well as anyone riding them or working with them in any way, will go unnoticed by your neighbors and guests.”
“Oh, my favorite! Creamy peanut butter and orange marmalade on Anadama bread!” Marisol danced around with a huge smile on her face. “How ever did you know?”
Dragon was pouring beverages. “Milk, Marisol? Or lemonade?”
Dragon smiled and poured the child a large tumbler of milk. “And you, Bastina?”
The six of us were enjoying our lunch, when I almost choked on a mouthful of food. I watched, wide-eyed with trepidation, as my Gypsy galloped his mount straight toward us. He was less than a foot from the gazebo before performing a rollback and racing off in the opposite direction. I quickly glanced at Marisol and saw her mesmerized by something in the same spot by the gazebo where my character had just ridden his horse. I started sweating.
“Look!” Marisol pointed. “Can you see the hummingbird?”
“Hummingbirds are attracted to the color red.” Marisol looked accusingly at Dragon. “If you were still a dragon, I would say you were the cause of the bird’s interest, but you refuse to be a dragon anymore. Perhaps he is attracted to my red hair-ribbon.” Marisol pulled the ribbon from her hair and held it out for the bird to see. After a quick inspection of the item revealed it not to be a food source, the tiny bird flew off.
The rest of the afternoon went splendidly. Cleric and Sorceress discussed various herbs and their curative properties with Bastina while Dragon, Marisol, and I engaged in birdwatching. I was sorry to see the visit end as the mother and child thanked us for a lovely day and took their leave.
My Gypsy edged his black-and-white piebald closer to the gazebo and snatched a piece of cake. “You know, a trail ride would be wonderful. Maybe we could drop in on Anna and Colton. They should be home from the training facility by now.”
I grinned and continued. “As for the training, Blue took to it like a duck to water. Anna, Colton, and Blue have been at the training facility all this time, just arriving home a few days ago. Blue was evaluated and found to have the proper temperament to work with a blind rider, so the instructors began building on the training he had received when he was at the facility previously.”
I smiled again. “He’s everything a blind rider could ask for. Blue seems to have a sense about the dangers he needs to watch for. He is exceptionally calm and gentle under all sorts of trying and potentially dangerous circumstances. He watches for all the things Colton is unable to see – overhanging branches, traffic, loose dogs, unfriendly horses being ridden too close, obstacles in their path. The trainers were so impressed with Blue! They said the only animal they have ever had at their facility who showed the same innate ability to work with a blind rider was Peaches.”
Dragon was in the conference room for what seemed like an eternity. She had closeted herself in the room with the scroll Talia had given her at the culmination of our visit to Chris-Tal Clear Metaphysical Store. When she opened the door and beckoned, she appeared to be vacillating between extreme agitation and looking like the cat that ate the canary.
“Not entirely.” Dragon furrowed her brow as she resumed pacing. “It does contain a spell to shield me from Marisol’s power, so she will no longer be able to see my true nature, nor cause me to shapeshift to my beastly form if she says something in the presence of others. Of course, that enchantment works directly on me, not on Marisol.”
Dragon stopped pacing and rolled her eyes. “After all this time, you still do not understand wards?” She scoffed. “The spell works on me, not on Marisol, because the spell is constructed to protect me. It is like placing a ward on your door. The ward keeps thieves out, not by affecting the thief, but by preventing their lock-picking skill or magic from affecting the door.”
“I smiled. “That’s good. Now what about her ability to see through your spell of concealment?”
“Indeed, there is.” The smoke disappeared and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Dragon’s mouth. “When I reached the end of the scroll Talia had given me, I noticed that the parchment felt strange. It felt as if it were too thick. I examined it, and found a second scroll adhered to the first, like two pages of a book stuck together. It took me considerable time and effort to separate them without damaging either one.”
Dragon smiled widely, the canary-eating cat look returning to her face. “It contained the spell Talia did not share.”
An hour later, I turned my vehicle into the driveway at the organic farm where Marisol’s mother and aunt ran a shop specializing in herbs and other botanicals. Dragon, in her guise of an elf maiden, was sitting next to me, and Cleric and Sorceress were in the back seat. All three had long lists of supplies they needed to purchase.
Cleric nodded. “We found some items here, but we have many items to procure this day.”
Dragon furrowed her brow. “Perhaps if we show you our lists, you could save us some time by pointing us in the right direction for the rest of these items.”
“Of course.” Bastina smiled as she took the lists. She started to skim the contents, and her smile slowly disappeared. “These do not look like the ingredients for a curative broth.” She gave Dragon a sharp look. “What on earth will you be doing with these?”
I noticed Sorceress nudge Cleric and nod toward some nearby hay bales. Cleric smiled and cleared her throat to get Dragon’s attention. She used her chin to point at the heap of hay, and Dragon gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Bastina picked up her daughter, swung her high up over her head, and then gave her a hug. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, little one.” She smiled and exchanged a conspiratorial look with Dragon. “So, Dray, tell me how this spell works. Will Marisol have to drink some awful-tasting potion? Or will she have to spend the night alone in the forest during a full moon?”
Bastina was wringing her hands. “Dray, you were just . . . well, you saw my daughter hiding behind the hay bales and you were just making sport, right? Just going along with her and her imagination?”
I stood in the middle of Chris-Tal Clear Metaphysical Store, gaping at the two proprietresses. I looked again from the woman identified as Christine, with her medieval gown and ethereal appearance, to the woman claiming to be Talia, in her modern-day, business casual attire and down-to-earth looks.
The diaphanous figure gliding about the store was clueless about magic? The businesswoman curiously watching me gaping at her was the expert on things magical and mystical? I was having a hard time wrapping my head around that thought.
“Hmmmm…nothing unusual or mysterious about that name. So, Marge and Dray, Crawford sent you to see me?” Talia leaned back against a display of geodes and crystals and looked at us expectantly.
The young girl answered in her small, reedy voice that raised the hair on the back of my neck. “No prob.” She took a few more swipes at the display with her feather duster before gliding across the showroom floor and positioning herself near the cash register. “I can handle any retail transactions that might occur in your absence.”
Upon entering Talia’s office, the co-proprietress of Chris-Tal Clear Metaphysical Store motioned for Dragon and me to sit on the small sofa, a piece of furniture that looked out of place with the antique wooden desk, wingback chair, and glass-fronted display cabinet. Talia eschewed a seat, and remained standing just inside the door, which she closed as soon as we were seated. I was startled to see this side of the door. It appeared to be a Gothic-arched wooden structure, with ornate, medieval-looking hinges, and door-pull handle. It looked nothing like the other side of the door, leading from the store to the office. That was a drab, gray, rectangular, metal door with a standard round doorknob.
Talia’s expression remained the same. She appeared disinterested, but I pressed on. “In a nutshell, there is a five-year-old girl in our neighborhood who has magic but is not a magician. She sees through spells of concealment, and she sees the true nature of any person or creature who has shapeshifted to another form. She can also cause others to see what she sees just by telling them what she sees. The child suspects there is something different, something special, about herself. She has even speculated she might be a witch, but she’s neither witch nor sorceress, at least not as we understand those terms. She cannot create illusions, she cannot conjure, she cannot enchant, she cannot cast any sort of spell.”
“You are outside your domain, Dray.” Talia gave Dragon a withering look. “Now, I believe it is time for you to leave.” She opened the door, and I gaped at the scene beyond the threshold. The door through which we had passed coming from the store into the office now opened onto the small alleyway behind the shop. I started to say something but found Dragon and I were suddenly out in the alley with the door closed behind us, without either of us having taken a step.
In a second, Dragon was in her beastly form. She swung her tail around with enough force to splinter a normal door, but all she achieved for her effort was a badly bruised tail. When she opened her maw and breathed fire at the door, it bounced back with such force, it almost fried us both.
We trudged along the narrow alleyways back to the street. We were surprised, and a bit apprehensive, when we saw Christine standing in front of the store. She approached us and addressed us in her small, reedy voice. “Umm . . . don’t mind Talia. She gets a bit testy when she thinks any in her circle are being threatened.”
“You’re back?” Talia glared at us from half-way across the store.
“Oh, Tal, you’re being silly!” Christine laughed again, a melodious sound, like the tinkling of wind chimes. “They simply seek to protect themselves and theirs. Like you.” Christine’s eyes narrowed and she stared at her partner. “Now, be nice and tell them what they need to know.” Her voice was much more robust now, with an authority that was hard to ignore.
“This will explain. There is a spell you can cast which will protect you from her energy. You should have all the necessary components; they are all rather common.” She sighed and lowered her eyes. “This is all I can do for now. When the child is older, she should come to see me. I can teach her, train her to use her power rather than be used by it.”
I scowled. “But what if Talia deceived us? What if you open the scroll and it’s blank, or all it contains is . . . oh, I don’t know . . . a recipe for chocolate cake? Wouldn’t it be better to know that now, so we can turn around and go right back and confront her?”
As the last member of the writers’ group Lost in the Words exited The Local Coffee Shoppe after their meeting, Crawford frowned at me. “You know, you’ve made a powerful enemy in Arthur. He doesn’t like anyone standing up to him or making him look small, especially in front of his peers.”
I understood this to mean Griff had probably arrived in this world much the same as Dragon and my other characters. Perhaps he had fallen out of the pages of one of Crawford’s manuscripts. I also understood Dragon and Griff could communicate telepathically, as was the custom of dragons . . . and griffins, too, evidently – at least this particular griffin. I smiled at them, but they were already deep in silent communication, staring intently into each other’s eyes like a couple of besotted teenagers.
With no further preamble, Crawford drew me back to the problem at hand. “So, you have . . . a character . . . you can’t quite figure out?”
I nodded. “And Drag . . . er, Dray and I thought someone with a unique friend like Griff may have encountered someone like . . . my character . . . and might be able to share some information about her powers.”
It was two days before I had time to go to the New Age store, Chris-Tal Clear. Dragon went with me, trying to avoid another encounter with Marisol. The child had visited again the day before, and Dragon was near exhaustion by the time the little girl left. “We must determine with what we are dealing! I can not continue expending such stores of energy trying to keep my true self hidden from her!” Dragon was in her guise of an elf maiden, but I could almost see smoke drifting from her flared nostrils.
I drove down the main street of the quaint little town where Crawford’s friend operated a New Age store. I had never been there before and was having trouble finding the shop. Finally, I pulled into a parking lot cattycorner from a strip of sturdy brick buildings that looked like they dated back to the early days of the Old West, when this community had been a boomtown. “Let’s look over there.”
No one there had ever heard of Chris-Tal Clear, nor were they familiar with the street where it was located. Neither was anyone in the next three stores we checked. Finally, the desk clerk at a restored nineteenth century hotel directed us to a place about five blocks away, on the other side of the railroad tracks.
Once we crossed the tracks, the condition of the buildings changed considerably. The historic district we left, now years past its sesquicentennial, had meticulously restored buildings, clean and inviting. On this side of the tracks, the buildings were newer, but none looked as if they had ever been cared for. I doubted many had seen as much as a broom or a paintbrush in many years.
Checking the street signs at each intersection, we wandered around some back alleys before stumbling onto a street whose name matched the one on the business card. As we approached the middle of the block of derelict businesses, we finally saw what we were looking for – Chris-Tal Clear Metaphysical Store.
“Well, the only way to find out is to go in and talk to Talia.” I reached for the doorknob, which promptly fell off in my hand.
A diminutive woman, who appeared barely out of her teens, stood near the doorway. Her white hair matched the gown she wore, an outfit that looked more appropriate for a special ritual, an important ceremony, or a fancy costume party than for working in a store. She reached out and took the doorknob from my hand. “Sorry. Happens all the time.” Her voice was as small as she was, with a reedy, ethereal quality that raised the hair on the back of my neck.
I started to walk toward Talia, then took another look at Christine, in her long, Medieval gown. Looking back at the older woman in her super-short skirt, white silk blouse and dark blazer, I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “You’re Talia?”
Finding the writers’ group was not as easy as I had expected. I was not anticipating enough writers in a town of less than 13,000 people to support multiple writers’ groups.
“You’re looking a lot better!” I smiled at the beautiful elf maiden, Dragon’s preferred guise. I pointed at the kettle boiling on the stove, and the cake server on the counter. “Tea and cake? It’s orange chiffon.”
Before Dragon could reply, the problem became evident. Our young neighbor, Marisol, skipped into view, rounding the corner of the house. She stopped and looked toward the back of the yard. Her shoulders slumped and her smile turned into a pout. Then she saw us on the deck, and she brightened again. “Hello!”
The little girl hung her head and scuffed her shoe back and forth in the grass. “No. I came to see if the horses were back, but I see they’re still gone. Why did you send them away?” She gave Dragon an accusing look. “And why aren’t you a dragon anymore?”
The child smiled. “Oh, yes, you were such a majestic dragon – all shiny scales, and sharp teeth and claws, and powerful wings! But you were so much prettier with red scales. When you had blue scales, you weren’t as shiny, and you had all those yucky smoke bubbles dripping from your nose.”
“If you say so.” Dragon kept her tone light. “Would you like a piece of cake and a glass of milk?”
Miles walked up behind us and joined the conversation as he snatched a piece of cake. “You’re talking about that guy who fixed the heat element in our rain gutters? The one who claims to have a griffin, and who told you about the writers’ group?” 
“When Crawford said the local coffee shop, I didn’t realize he meant it literally.” I pulled into the last open parking spot in front of a storefront sporting the name The Local Coffee Shoppe in huge red letters. After Miles suggested calling around to local coffee shops, I easily tracked down the location, day, and time for the writers’ group Lost in the Words.
Crawford looked up, and a big smile lit up his face. “Mrs. Tesch!” He came forward and gave me a warm handshake. “How nice to see you! And Dra . . .”
Dragon quickly extended her hand. “I’m Dray. Nice to meet you.” She and Crawford seemed to exchange sly smiles as they shook hands, but the moment passed so quickly, I couldn’t be sure.
“You should have called and informed us you would be in attendance.” The bow-tied gentleman glowered. “The agenda for today’s meeting is already set.”
The young man with whom Crawford had been speaking earlier smiled at Dragon. “Indeed, and if there isn’t any time left, some of us would be glad to stay after the meeting and discuss things.”
Didi glared at Arthur but passed out some papers to everyone. “This is an excerpt from chapter three of my manuscript. I’m sorry, I didn’t know there would be guests. There’s not enough for everyone.”
I was appalled at the work Didi had chosen to share, full of misspellings, grammatical errors, dull characters, and stilted dialog. Still, I was shocked at Arthur, who tossed the pages back at her and said, “You’re really wasting our time here. There are so many problems with this, it would take us the next ten meetings to discuss them.” He pointed at the matronly lady, and asked, “Are you prepared, Lavinia?”
As I read through the pages she shared, I was amazed at her talent. Everyone gave her good feedback on the excerpt, complimenting her choice of words and her pacing. Then Arthur tore it apart, nit-picking every detail. To hear him dissect Lavinia’s words, one would think her writing was little better than Didi’s.
The matronly Lavinia wrinkled her brow. “This is fascinating, but out of my wheelhouse. Robaire, SueZ, Crawford, Griff, you all write fantasy. Maybe you could help our guest.”
Robaire waved his hand dismissively. “It’s your story. You can call your character and her ability anything you want.”
SueZ laughed. “You make it sound as if it were real. How could we have encountered something you are creating for your story?”
“This is so ridiculous!” Arthur scowled. “As Robaire stated, it is your book. You need to formulate the rules of the magic system and name it and its practitioners. If you can’t do that without an advisory board, maybe you shouldn’t be a writer.” He gave me a disgusted look, the type of look one might give something on the bottom of their shoe. “You are a writer, aren’t you? You have been published? Or are you just another pathetic wannabe, like Didi there?” He jutted his chin toward the humiliated Didi, who glared back at him.
