a thespian.”
Gage grinned. “I’m going to enjoy the thought of Strongbear’s slumber.” He mocked, “So, are you with me ... or are you against me?”
Gallrum winked. “Oh, I’m with you.”
Both goswigs laughed.
Mogg’s Village in the Trees
Brayson made his way back from the blushel berry bushes that were a fair hike from Mogg’s village. The Sprite Queen had chosen a tree just behind her personal residence for Brayson to fill. The Head Master now had two baskets that were filled with more than 2,000 berries in each, and judging by the size of the trunk, a single trip would be more than sufficient to fill the tree.
Many of Mogg’s kind were flying all around Brayson as he sauntered into the village carrying the baskets. Their excitement could be heard as their voices cried out in song. Glorious showers filled with sparkling colors fell from their wings like glitter and dissipated just before they hit the ground.
Brayson stopped in front of the tree and waved his hand across its surface. The hole opened and allowed the Head Master to pour the berries inside. Once the task was complete and the spell had been cast to protect the fruit, the hole reduced to its normal size.
Brayson returned to Mogg’s tree. The sprite emerged and hovered in front of him. “You have kept your word, Wizard. Now, I shall keep mine. Follow me.”
“Where?”
“Not where, Wizard. When. Follow me to your when.”
“How do I follow you to the past?” the Head Master queried.
Mogg shook her small head. “You ask many questions. How is it that you talk so much and still manage to learn? Just follow. You’ll see. Your when is about to become your now.”
“But how do you know what when I seek?”
“I always know, Wizard. Stop talking and follow.”
The other fairies quickly disappeared into their hollowed homes as the Head Master did as he was told. The sprite’s magic began to shape their moments, and Brayson watched the scenery change before his eyes. When the images came to a stop, the sunlight had faded and a large shed was sitting in front of them. The outside of the structure was dimly lit by a single street-torch that sat on the far side of a dirt road.
“This is your when, Head Master.”
“How can you be so sure?” Brayson queried. “Where are we? When are we?”
“Your when is the night of your friend’s passing. Your where is on Southern Grayham. This place is a smith’s barn outside a city filled with champions. The answer you seek is walking this way.”
Brayson turned and looked down the gravel road. The city gates of Champions were well lit in the distance, and many other street-torches lined the road. It was too dark to make out much at first, but as they drew near, the torchlight revealed their silhouettes. “Mogg, they’ll see us.”
“No, Wizard, they won’t. We aren’t a part of this when. We can only observe.”
As the silhouettes came into focus, Brayson smiled as he saw Amar’s face. Yet someone unexpected was with him—someone he would have never imagined to see at this particular moment. It was George. “Mogg, are you sure this is the when I’m seeking? The other man shouldn’t be here.”
“Yes, Wizard, I’m sure. Just watch. See, instead of talk. My magic to seek out moments is strong. I have brought you to the right when.”
“Are you sure they can’t see us?”
Mogg giggled. An increase of sparkling color cascaded from her wings and fell toward the ground. “You have already asked me that. You appear to lack much intelligence for such a powerful elf.”
Brayson ignored the sprite’s tone and moved in to listen to George and Amar’s conversation. He followed them to the door of the smith’s barn.
George tugged on the lock. “I want to go inside. Amar, use some of your hocus pocus on this lock.”
“Why, George?” Amar responded.
“Because it’s chilly out here, and there’s a forge inside.”
After George and Amar argued about the consequences, Brayson watched Amar lift his staff to speak the simple command. The lock released, and both men entered. Brayson followed.
George took a seat on a wooden bench near the forge. “Amar, there are moments when I feel like I’m going crazy. I miss my daughter something fierce.”
Amar crossed his arms. “George, are we really out here to talk about your kin? We could’ve done that in the morning. What could be so important that you had to wake me up?”
Brayson took note of George’s demeanor as his Mystic Learner