Fantasy & Magic
Moonbeam by moonbeam the Tor drank in the magic, until its crystal heart beat strong and the forgotten edges of the ancient Labyrinth that climbed its slopes glowed.
Still the moonlight poured down. The Tor drank till it could drink no more. Three large, white, oval stones on its flanks shone with an inner radiance. Two stones marked the entrance to the forgotten spiral path. The third gleamed like an eye, high on the Tor's flank at the path's goal.
Something silver flashed in the corner of the room.
Jeremy stepped closer.
A jagged lightning bolt glowed and shimmered.
"Neat!" said Jeremy. He picked it up.
It felt warm.
His fingers tingled.
"Put that down!" screeched Mr. Magnus. "Can't you read? DON'T TOUCH!"
Everything swirled around Jeremy.
Mr. Magnus cried, "He's not ready! He didn't read the rule book!"
When Jeremy burst through the door, Mr. Magnus jumped up. "Now we can get started!" he cried.
"Meow," said Aristotle from the top of the blue and gold trunk.
Mr. Magnus unrolled the scroll.
"The last riddle," said Jeremy.
"And a real doozer!" said Mr. Magnus. His voice shook. "I'm round like a ball, but I'm not a toy. Beware, Inventor, and your little boy!"
"An inventor!" said Jeremy.
"I've read all the books," sighed Mr. Magnus. "I found only one inventor. His name was Daedalus. He lived on a Greek island called Crete."
"The second riddle!" said Jeremy. Jeremy was good at riddles. But Mr. Magnus looked worried. "This is a tough one," he moaned. He opened the scroll and read out loud: "I have twenty legs but just one wing. The sea is my kingdom and Jason my king. Who am I?" Jeremy frowned. "Twenty legs...one wing...," he mumbled. He screwed up his face. He thought as hard as he could. "It's no use," sighed Mr. Magnus.
Jeremy blinked. He was sitting beside a swamp. Green slime covered the murky water. Cold clammy fog tickled his face.
Jeremy had just traveled back in time three thousand years. He didn't look any different. He was still wearing his jeans and runners. He didn't feel any different. Except that he was stiff and cold.
He looked around for Aristotle. The cat was sitting on a mossy log, washing his fur.
"The Underworld sure is foggy," said Jeremy.
Aristotle stopped licking. "We aren't in the Underworld yet." He flicked his tail. "You better check the map."
