A jersey cow was staring at Gord with big-eyed disinterest while it chewed its cud.

  Lita had led him and Jam through the strangely hazy door in the summoning room, and a moment later he was outside a vine-covered cottage. With cows on either side of him, and chickens several feet away. Britny the cat sunned herself on an open windowsill.

  "This is home sweet home," Lita said, pointing her staff at the cottage. "Uh, but don't take a bite. It's not made of gingerbread and candy."

  "My apologies for her sense of humour." Britny yawned. "She is untrainable. Clearly these people know you're not a child-eating witch with an edible house."

  "I will never reach your heights of humour, dear friend," Lita said. "Though the perturbedness in her voice that you may sense is because she knows she will be in charge of this domicile while the three of us travel."

  "I am always in charge," the cat said. "Good luck in your travels."

  "Uh, thanks, talking cat girl," Jam said. The cat frowned, or at least that is what it looked like to Gord. It was hard to tell with cats.

  They followed Lita toward a gate. The fences surrounding the farmyard looked as if they had grown there, with vines stretching from thin pole-like trees to create an enclosure. Gord breathed in, filling his lungs.

  "Uh, don't we need any accessories?" he asked. "I mean a sleeping bag, a shovel, rations?"

  "This type of journey does not require supplies," Lita said.

  The gate opened as they approached. A sheep stood in Gord's way, and he said, "Beep beep sheep." Just saying those words made him think of a song he'd heard on YouTube that was from that moment on, was lodged in his head every time he saw a sheep stuck in his head. The sheep moved before he had to repeat himself.

  As the gate closed behind them, they followed Lita onto a soft green path that led away from the farm and into some very thick bush. It wasn't long before the farmyard was no longer visible through the green leaves and branches. "How far do we have to walk for this beer?" Gord said.

  "The Great Green Witch of the Vale of Silent Lucidity does not walk far."

  "Is that your official title?" Gord asked.

  "King Fidds chose it," she said. "The pompousness of it made him laugh."

  They crossed over a moss-covered road. "Why aren't we following the road?" he said.

  "It would take us to November Rain Village. If we were walking, we'd then go up to the Highway to Hades and cart it to our destination. But a Druidic witch doesn't walk, as I mentioned earlier." She led them further into the bush. The path grew narrower, and the branches and bushes grew thicker. Since she was smaller than him and Jam was thinner, neither of them was getting poked by thorns. Every second thorn introduced itself to Gord. It grew so narrow he had to sidestep, like a crab. Even sucking in his stomach didn't save him from the thorns.

  "Uh, how much further?" he asked.

  "The path can't be easy, since I don't want outsiders to find it, so it is caught in the middle of a mystery," she said, which sounded like a quote from one of the few fantasy novels he'd read. He now wasn't certain he could identify a path. In fact, if he slowed down, both Jam and Lita vanished into the brush, forcing him to sidestep faster, crashing and pushing his way ahead until he saw them again.

  His thin armor kept catching on branches, and he was thinking maybe she was playing a joke on them. Then the tiny path opened up into a green area with tall oak trees, the branches overhanging them. There was something shadowy on those branches. "Don't look them in the eyes," Lita warned.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Don't look who in the eyes?" Gord asked. Then he realized the shadows were large ravens populating the branches, staring with malevolence and intelligence. They were pitch black except for a white snake shape on their chests.

  Jam immediately looked at his feet. "Ravens. I hate them. Too smart. Too smart. Don't look at them, Gord dude."

  They kept walking as the line of ravens stared down. There were at least a hundred of them, each projecting their confidence.

  "Gordo," one raven said. "Gord Dude."

  Gord nearly looked up at it.

  "Oh, and don't say your names," Lita said. "I should have told you that. They eat names."

  "Gordo, Gordo," another said. "Dude, Gord, over here. Look at me. I'm your buddy. Your friend."

  Gord kept his head down. "Thanks for saying my name, J–" He stopped himself from finishing that sentence.

  "Jay. Jay. Jay," another crow said. "Look, great wisdom for you. Great glory. Look. We'll give it to you. Free."

  "Glory?" Jam said.

  "Keep looking down," Lita said. Gord noted she wasn't looking down. Perhaps the ravens had no ill will towards her.

  "What are they?" Gord asked.

  "Don't Know What You've Got Until It's Gone Ravens."

  "That's a long name," Gord said.

  "We do love our long names in Metaloria," Lita explained. "The ravens guard this place. And they aren't normal birds. If you were not here with me, they would tear you apart—in other words they take away the things you've got, including your life. It's rather grisly. I've only found bits and pieces of ill-will seekers searching for my secret place. The ravens clean up after themselves. Never any bright trinkets remain. Or bones."

  "Gordo. You dropped something," one of them said.

  "Just keep walking," Lita added. "I made them a little meaner than I intended. But spells can take on their own forms."

  In time they passed the end of the trees lined by ravens.

  "Gordo, look back," one raven said.

  Then one of them made a very familiar sound Na na na na na-na. It took him a moment to realize it was the tune to 'Turbo Lover' by Judas Priest. A song he'd never much liked because it had too many synthesizers and not enough rock. Gord turned his head to yell at the birds to shut up.

  "No, don't." Lita grabbed him by the chin and twisted his head enough that he was looking forward.

  "But how did they know that song?" he asked.

  "They know all the songs," she explained.

  "But how?"

  "The very best songs appear in every world. And some terrible songs, too."

  "Dad Two played 'Turbo Lover' at his second wedding to my mom," Jam said. "It got a laugh from the crowd."

  They had come upon an arch in the middle of this green space. It was brightly coloured, white and yellow and red. Flowers had sprouted on small branches that formed the arch. The fused trumpet-shaped flowers were white, cream, yellow, orange, red, pink, and greenish. And they glowed as if being backlit for a movie.

  "Gord, do you know your flowers?" Jam asked.

  "No, why?" Gord asked.

  "These are Angel's Trumpets," Jam said, pointing at the flowers. "The golden ones are Brugmansia arborea and the red ones Brugmansia sanguinea, and… well, there are lots of other names."

  "You know flowers?" Gord asked.

  "Dad Three was a florist," Jam replied.

  "Dad Three?" Gord said. "How many…" he stopped himself. It wasn't his business. And this was perhaps the most useful thing Jam had said. He deserved his moment. Plus, it was good to know the youth could keep important information in his brain.

  "We call them Thunderstruck Blossums," Lita explained. "But your name works."

  "Why are we here?" Gord asked. "I mean, it is a beautiful arch and all…" He pulled a thorn out of his shoulder.

  "Well," Lita said. "This is more than a beautiful arch. I don't mean to be braggadocios, but I am somewhat important, and I live in the vale to be away from the wars and boring court battles. So this, my friend, is a shortcut to the palace."

  "What kind of shortcut?" Gord asked. It clearly didn't go anywhere. He could see the branches on the other side. "What palace?"

  "The Dream On Palace, of course," she said as if she expected him to know about it. She reached out to touch the flowers, and they responded by turning towards her, as if towards the sun.

  Jam stepped up, bumping her. "It's pretty clear this is a transmogrifier. I'm going to become a gold dragon. I know it!"

  He stepped through the arch, was immediately bathed in golden light and then he vanished.

  "Oh great," Gord said. "Is he gone forever?"

  Lita laughed and waved an admonishing finger at Gord. "Don't sound so hopeful. Though I will admit that young man doesn't have a big brainpan. We had better follow; he might encounter trouble on the other side." She stepped through, turned bright gold, then vanished.

  Gord stared for a moment. The thunderstruck blossoms seemed to dare him to move. He reached out tentatively and broke the plane of the arch.

  Nothing happened.

  Then, Lita's hand came out of thin air, grabbed him and pulled him into the center of the arch.

  Gord turned gold and vanished.