Lucy and the Magic Loom Page 4

  Lucy couldn’t afford to feel tired, defeated, and distracted by homesickness. Her eyes remained closed, and the magic loom serenaded her with a soft, confident hum of support in an effort to replenish Lucy’s resources. The hum trickled into Lucy’s heart and cheered her. She wasn’t really all alone after all—she was only momentarily tired and overwhelmed. Lucy knew she would get through with the help of her new friends and the magic loom. Confidence restored, Lucy slowly opened her eyes.

  The trampoline was a masterpiece. Lucy stepped tentatively onto the multicolor steps she had created and walked forward. The trampoline’s weave was tight and even. Lucy tested its elasticity with her foot and the give was remarkable—strong but generous. It was twice the size of the trampoline in Lucy’s backyard at home and was positioned at the edge of the moat, exactly where it needed to be for Lucy’s plan to work.

  “All I have to do is bounce gently,” Lucy said to herself in a confident coach voice she didn’t know she possessed until just this moment. “And my landing can’t be too hard. I need to bounce high enough to land exactly at the top of the castle wall. Just imagine yourself doing it. Swing your arms hard and bend your knees deeply. You’ve got this.”

  The water in the moat was deep and dangerous-looking. Lucy looked up at the castle wall instead of down. She counted backward from twenty-five and began. She bounced gently as planned, building up height and power ever so slowly. It took three big bounces to reach as high as the castle door, and then five more to reach past the row of window boxes. Lucy’s bird friends perched at the edge of the castle wall, chirping and cheering her on. She bounced higher and higher still, until she was hovering near the top of the wall before gravity pulled her down again. The next bounce would be the winner.

  As she touched down on the trampoline, Lucy sank into its strength, then shot straight up and into the sky. With her legs loose and her arms tucked at her sides, she floated above the wall, exactly where she needed to be. Lucy tucked into a somersault, reaching down to cushion herself, and then landed suddenly, with a rough jolt, on the passageway near the top of the wall. The landing wasn’t the gentle perfect ten she hoped for, but she made it!

  Lucy stood and looked around. She was so pleased with herself, it took a minute or two before she noticed: far below in the castle’s center courtyard a figure was kneeling—and pointing a bow directly at her head. That was also the moment Lucy realized the magic loom was resting beside the trampoline far below, completely forgotten.

  Chapter Seven

  Lucy ducked just as an arrow flew over the edge of the wall. These castle folk clearly weren’t as friendly as she had hoped.

  Lucy was nestled against a cold wall on one side of a narrow passageway open to the sky. It was intended, Lucy supposed, as fortification. To her right and left, steps led to small stone platforms where one could imagine watchmen standing guard—luckily they were abandoned at present. Lucy suddenly realized that castle walls and windows she had seen from far below weren’t the real castle. Rather, their intended purpose was to hide and protect a large, wide courtyard and the jewel-box castle nestled within.

  Whoosh.

  Another arrow flew over Lucy’s head. This was ridiculous! If she hadn’t been so upset, Lucy would have laughed. She hadn’t come all this way to be pierced in the head by an arrow. All she wanted was to find a way home. And now—just because she was distracted for one measly minute—she didn’t have her magic loom! If she had it in hand where it was supposed to be, she would whip up a magic loom lasso, hog-tie the archer below, and talk some sense into the person who was shooting arrows at her. Oh, dear.

  Just then Lucy’s bird chums began chirping intently. In her agitation Lucy had forgotten about them, but they hadn’t forgotten about her. Her two favorites were trying to catch Lucy’s eye without attracting the figure in the courtyard.

  Initially Lucy couldn’t understand what the birds were trying to tell her. They flapped their wings and levitated just above the stone path. They were pecking at each other in an odd little pantomime, trying to hold Lucy’s attention. And then she understood!

  “Yes, yes, yes! That’s a brilliant idea. You two should fly down to the other side of the moat. If you’re able to carry and return the ebony box to me without being noticed, you’ll save the day. I know you can do it.”

  The birds didn’t waste any time. They dashed over the wall and glided down to the moat’s edge where the magic loom was alone beside the trampoline. Lucy crawled on her stomach to the other side of the passageway where there was a small slit in the stone just big enough for her to peer through.

  Lucy held her breath as she watched their maneuvers. At first the two birds attempted to share the weight of the box between them. They tried to position themselves at opposite ends of the box while nestling themselves underneath it in the hope they could flap their wings and rise. Unfortunately, the loom was behaving erratically after being left alone by the side of the moat, and kept twisting and turning. Each time it did, one of the birds would startle and drop their end, and they would be forced to start all over again. This happened three times before the smallest bird called in additional support.

  Down swooped six of their friends. The others flew around close to the ground, zipping back and forth over the grass, hunting for something. Lucy wondered what they were looking for until she saw two birds return to the edge of the moat with large, sturdy twigs in their beaks, much like they would use to build a nest. Working as a team, the little flock of birds nudged twigs under the ebony box until it was perfectly balanced. Then they divided into teams of four and positioned themselves on either side of the box, each one holding on to a twig. They chirped loudly in unison as if in a countdown and slowly began to flutter their wings and rise. Lucy held her breath as they lifted off the ground, quickly and soundlessly. They rose past the doorway and then the windows, before dropping their precious cargo gently at Lucy’s feet, all without being noticed by the archer below. Before she opened the box to make sure the magic loom was OK, Lucy blew each one of the birds a kiss. Happily, the magic loom was safe: it glowed thankfully, eager to get to work.

  Lucy pondered her options. She could create a lasso and tie the archer up, pretending she was an American cowgirl subduing a bull. Or she could make a ladder and shimmy down to the courtyard. Would she be too easy to see if she chose that option? Maybe an invisible cloak could keep her safe long enough to climb down the ladder. That might work. But Lucy wondered if she should save the invisibility trick for an emergency—she had a long way to go before she got home. Maybe the first idea was the best after all? While Lucy focused on coming up with the perfect plan, arrows flew over her head. She had to do something fast.

  Lucy edged herself into a corner. Snuggled between the passageway wall and one of the platforms, she was protected by a slight overhang. She reached into the box and shuffled through the remaining envelopes looking for the Magic Lasso label. There it was! The lasso elastics were sturdy and deep royal blue. Lucy closed her eyes and imagined the magnificent object she wanted to create—it would be elaborate, large, and able to execute a breathtaking series of cowboy rustler tricks, the likes of which had never been seen before this side of Kansas City. The magic loom hissed with delight. Lucy smiled and fell into one of her trances. Her fingers flew back and forth while the hook weaved its Western miracle. A flash of rainbow colored sparks signaled it was over and Lucy’s eyes opened.

  For the plan to work, Lucy knew she had to be precise about the next step. Lucy popped her head over the wall, quickly trying to get a better sense of where the archer was positioned. She moved onto her feet but stayed bent at the knees, keeping her head low. Next, she carefully gathered the lasso between her elbow and arm in a series of overlapping circles. She and Alyssa had watched cowboys do this in a rodeo documentary about the Calgary Stampede. Lucy didn’t have time to practice and she was worried about her aim, but the magic loom hadn’t failed her yet. She would toss the lasso with gusto and choos
e to have faith.

  Lucy was almost ready. She patted the magic loom with her spare hand for good luck and counted backward from ten. Hoping she could throw the archer off guard, she yelled loudly and jumped up. Then, she threw the lasso with all the strength she could muster and let go.

  Lucy bopped her head up and watched as the lasso nosedived directly into the castle courtyard with unwavering zeal. It headed straight for the archer, who appeared to stumble backward. The archer dropped the bow, and the lasso wrapped itself around the archer’s hands and feet.

  Lucy cheered, grabbed the ebony case, and headed straight for a stairway. Home was getting closer every minute, she could feel it!

  Chapter Eight

  Lucy bounded down the stairs, almost running. The staircase curved around one corner and then another. The air was old and musty, as if the stairwell had been blocked off for eons and just recently opened up. When Lucy finally reached the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in a wide open doorway, staring out into the old castle courtyard.

  The courtyard was beautiful. Intricate stone paths led the way through a series of wide gardens that edged the thick castle walls. The spicy scent of the yellow flowers was still here, but now it was mixed with the fragrance of rosemary, oregano, thyme, and lavender. The area was the size of four, maybe five, soccer fields. Lucy could now see clearly that the center of the courtyard—where the archer had been kneeling—was actually a maze made of huge holly hedges. Behind the maze Lucy could just make out the outline of the smaller castle.

  Lucy headed straight for the maze, confident she would find the lassoed troublemaker at its center. Before entering, Lucy opened the ebony box. She dug around, hunting for an envelope containing simple, straightforward elastics. She planned to drop them in a trail behind her, to make sure she could find her way back.

  Lucy stepped into the maze and stopped. She listened. Above her, the flock of red and blue birds twittered, offering, it seemed to Lucy, to guide their friend to the center of the maze. Lucy could hear a faint whimpering, almost like the sound of a kitten crying. She headed in.

  Inside the maze, it was dark. The sweet scent of lavender was quickly overtaken by a dank mossy smell. The hedges seemed taller on the inside of the maze than they had from the outside. Lucy was overtaken with a feeling of claustrophobia, as if the hedge walls could collapse in on her at any moment. It took everything she had to keep moving forward. What she really wanted to do was turn on her heel and run back toward the warm afternoon sunlight. To keep her wits about her, Lucy gazed at the sky and the birds. When she came to a fork in the path, she asked the birds for guidance and they led her fearlessly forward. With every turn, the whimpering sound grew louder.

  And then, suddenly, Lucy was in a wide clearing. Directly in front of her, wrapped in a bundle on the ground, was the archer she had seen from the wall. The person who had seemed menacing and mean from a great distance was now helpless, tangled up, and crying like a little kitten. Lucy almost laughed out loud, but stopped herself just in time. She didn’t want to be nasty after all, she just wanted to get home!

  “Are you all right?” Lucy asked rather stiffly. “I’m sorry about the fuss and bother, but you started it.”

  The archer didn’t move or make a sound.

  “It wasn’t nice of you to point your bow at my head. Shooting arrows at me was downright rude. You didn’t even attempt to be welcoming.”

  Lucy waited for the archer to indicate polite regret with a heartfelt groan or an embarrassed twitch, but nothing happened.

  “Oh, dear. Don’t be like that. The truth is I need help desperately. I promise I’m not an enemy, even if all this commotion feels rather aggressive. I am deeply sorry if that happens to be the case, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. My name is Lucy Stillwater-Smith. I promise I don’t want to take anything that is yours. I simply want help finding my way back to 163 Terrier Square, London.”

  The word “London” was the ticket, or maybe it was “Terrier Square”—anyway, all at once the archer began to rock back and forth as if it was attempting to kick loose what Lucy now realized was a dirty old emerald cape. The magic lasso had managed to tie the cape firmly in place, keeping the archer’s face completely hidden from Lucy’s view.

  “If I untie you, will you consider being helpful? Or are you committed to ending my life?”

  The figure seemed to nod.

  “Well, which one is it?” Lucy asked. “Nasty or nice? Nod twice if nice is the plan.”

  The hooded figure presented Lucy with two concise but vigorous nods of the head.

  “Well, that’s that then. Let’s have bygones be bygones—as Abigail would say if she were with us—and get this lasso off you.”

  Lucy was about to kneel down on all fours and carefully untie the lasso with her hands when the magic loom began to hum happily and loudly. Lucy suspected the untying process wasn’t going to be very hard. She reached down with one hand and gave the end of lasso a firm tug. That’s all it took. The woven rope disintegrated with a quick poof and a blast of cold air. The sudden gust was all it took to knock the emerald hood off the head of the figure on the ground.

  Lucy wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t what appeared in front of her. Instead of an angry watchman, Lucy saw a small redheaded girl with two pretty braids. The girl looked terrified.

  “Please, please don’t be angry!” she cried. “I am sorry if I frightened you, but you frightened me first!”

  Lucy grimaced at her.

  “No, really, it’s true,” the girl said defensively. “No one has visited me here before, except the zebras, and then only once. I thought if I didn’t allow the bridge to drop over the moat, I would have time to figure out what to do and how to behave. But when you leaped to the castle wall, I was flabbergasted. I was scared.” The girl paused. “Perhaps I may have overreacted.”

  “Aiming arrows at my skull does seem like an overreaction,” Lucy snapped. “Now that I can see you better, you should also know that the cloak and dagger costume is a bit much. Up this close, you look silly.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a terrifying shade of emerald?” the girl asked with sudden curiosity and seriousness. “The wizard who lived here before me—a nasty fellow, I’m told—left it behind. I put it on whenever I need an extra bit of confidence.” And then she laughed. “I am truly sorry. I think I spend too much time by myself. My name is Sallee Ratchford-Jones the Third. How do you do?”

  With that the girl stood up, pulled the cloak to the ground and made quick little curtsey in Lucy’s general direction. Beneath the cloak, Sallee was dressed in an old-fashioned dark brown muslin dress with two pretty rows of pearl buttons that traveled up the front of the bodice to the tip of her smudged chin. She wore a pair of black lace-up boots. Bright green silk bows were tied neatly at the tips of her two long braids. Her hair was a vibrant, happy shade of red. Lucy loved the color immediately. In comparison, Lucy’s comfy pink sweater with pockets, her purple skirt, and black flats looked like a costume from another century.

  Lucy curtsied as best she could, feeling slightly silly. “I am pleased to meet you, Sallee.”

  The girls stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments, unsure of where to go next with the conversation. Lucy didn’t feel like she had time to waste, whereas Sallee wasn’t convinced she wanted to be friends with the strange-looking creature standing in front of her.

  “What happened to your dress?” Sallee asked, in what she hoped was a polite voice.

  “Excuse me?” Lucy replied. It wasn’t clear to her what the girl was talking about.

  “Why is your skirt so short? And what is on your legs?”

  “I’m wearing extremely comfortable pants underneath. You could also call them leggings. I don’t like blue jeans. Why does it matter?” Lucy wanted to get on with things and was running out of patience with the direction the conversation was taking.

  “Girls don’t wear pants.”

&n
bsp; “Excuse me?”

  “Girls don’t wear pants,” Sallee repeated loudly, as if she was talking to someone wearing earplugs.

  “What are you talking about? Of course girls wear pants,” Lucy almost shouted.

  The girls said nothing more—they simply stared. They were standing an arm’s length away from each other in the center of the maze. The birds were fluttering happily above their heads. The magic loom in its ebony case was tucked firmly under Lucy’s arm, glowing more and more with every passing second. Lucy was wearing her favorite Saturday outfit with her long brown hair pulled off her face in a ponytail. Sallee, the new girl, appeared to be dressed in an old-fashioned doll costume. Sallee. Where had Lucy heard that name before?

  What in the world was going on?

  Chapter Nine

  “Are you expecting a package?” Lucy asked.

  Sallee tilted her head, looked Lucy up and down, appeared flustered, and then began to cry. In no time at all, she was wailing. And Sallee wasn’t a delicate, pretty weeper like Alyssa. Instead, her lovely face became instantly red and blotchy before puffing up like a soggy marshmallow. She made loud gasping noises between wails, as if she couldn’t catch her breath, and then sat down in a puddle of frustration and sadness.

  “Oh, dear. Are you OK?” Lucy looked around to find something Sallee could blow her nose on. She spotted the wizard’s emerald cloak in a lump on the ground and tugged it over to where Sallee was sitting. “Blow on this,” she suggested. “I am sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  Lucy sat down beside Sallee in the dirt and placed her arm around the other girl’s shoulder. This made Sallee wail louder still. Then, with one final damp snort, the girl’s tears ran out.

  “I can’t stand it here anymore,” Sallee said, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her brown muslin dress. “I’m lonely and time passes so slowly here, if it passes at all. I can’t tell you if it’s the nature of things in this place, or if it’s because I have been so alone for so long.”