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P. W. Stone and the Missing Kingdoms / A High Fantasy Adventure Novel

By S. C. Easley

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Chapter One - The Gate

<span style="font-size: 16px;">Sometimes the stars and planets do align.</span>

Before the sun set in mid-January 2017, our stone white 2012 Jeep Cherokee left the busy Oregon interstate, cruised through Salem’s quiet suburbs of Willamette Valley and into wine country. Ever since we had crossed the California-Oregon state line, I gazed tirelessly at the rolling hills and clusters of trees, craving the first sight of Peaceful Falls Manor. A fresh start awaited me in the garden paradise of our ancestors.

As Mom and I neared Uncle William’s estate, the vehicle screeched to a stop.

She stared out the window.

“You alright?” I asked. “Mom. Are you okay?”

“How could somebody do something like this?” She sighed. “Defile Chimikiti.”

A lump rose in my throat at what had become of the dense perimeter outlining my uncle’s land. When the mist-covered window lowered, a chilling earthy carnage filled my nostrils.

Layers of opaque clouds snaked across the mangled battlefield carrying an odor of overturned dirt, severed roots, and snapped limbs oozing sap.

“It makes you wonder what we’ve missed,” she said.

Massive chunks of the forest had vanished—hundreds of bulldozed trees, ripped from the earth, lay broken in piles.

My heart ached for the pulverized woods once so full of life. The sacred meeting place of our ancestors sat in ruins.

Mom craned her neck and peered through my window. “Oh, Penelope, someone is after your inheritance. Whatever are we going to do to stop this?”

After a moment, the blood drained from Mom’s face. She leaned back against the seat, her eyes glazed. “I want to throw up.”

A bright-colored billboard down the road gleamed through the fog and advertised what my mom and Uncle William dreaded for years. “Chimikiti Casino coming soon near you. The paradise where families come to play.”

She placed her hand over her chest and muttered words I didn’t understand. “No wonder my brother is fighting for his life.”

We stayed on the narrow road leading to the manor. The relentless silver-gray mist that stuck with us all day from San Francisco clung to the trees insulating the grounds of my uncle’s estate.

Once we approached the entrance, Mom lowered her window and pushed the entry call button. We waited. No answer.

After driving more than twelve hours, we’d made it to our new home, but we were on the wrong side of the fence.

She punched the button again and again. “Please, please pick up.” Nothing.

I squirmed in my seat. “They’re expecting us, right?”

Mom stared ahead. “Well…not exactly.”

A wave of heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks. “What do you mean, Mother?”

“I have to talk to my brother, face to face.”

“But Mom, we packed everything we own and moved out of our house.”

“You and I have every right to be here. And just as much as my brother and his family. It was in Grandpap’s will.”

The sky dimmed, and the forest shadows grew. My heart raced as my eyes darted toward the woods on both sides. A solid vapor eerily seeped through the trees. I usually wouldn’t have been so freaked, but nightfall was closing in.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and lowered the window. “Are there any light poles out here?” I tried to survey the area, but the mist was too thick.

Mom tapped her smartwatch. “I don’t remember any, just trees.”

“Fantastic.” I rolled my eyes.

A whipping wind slammed into the car, sending a shiver through my body. I quickly raised the window. “Hopefully, we can figure out what we’re doing before dark.”

Mom’s palm pressed her forehead. “Oh, I’ll just call them from my cell. We don’t need that entry box.” She tapped her watch to make the call, but her hopeful expression disappeared. “Oh, shoot. I don’t have a signal.”

“Must be the trees in the way,” I said. “Would they hear the horn?”

“I doubt it. The house is quite a way once we pull into the drive, and the forest is between us.” Mom honked a few times. Nothing happened.

“Isn’t that button supposed to light up on the call box?” I said.

She studied the panel and shrugged.

“I bet their power’s out. Wonder when they used this gate last. What a piece of junk. Is there another entrance?” I asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“And this is the right house?”

Mom tugged on her braid. “Yes, I’m sure of it.”

I yawned. “Can’t we go to a hotel? We’ll come back tomorrow in the daytime.”

Mom stretched her neck, peering over the Jeep’s hood. “If the power’s out, then let’s try to push the gate open ourselves.”

My shoulders tensed. “What? I’m not getting out here.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mom said. “We’re at Uncle William’s place.”

My tongue pushed against my lower teeth as I thought of an argument. “We haven’t been here since I was little. What if we’re at the wrong house? A crazed dog could come after us. Or, worse, a wild animal.”

I pointed. “And what’s with that rusty gate anyway, crawling with vines? It looks like it hasn’t opened in years. I can’t even see three feet in front of my face. I’m not leaving this car.”

“We must make it to their house.”

“Mom.” I shivered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

As drizzle veiled the windshield, Mom wiped her palms on her pants. Her face stiffened before she grabbed my forearm. “Penelope Stone, I don’t have money for a room. The last of our finances went toward food, and my paycheck won’t be in the bank until tomorrow.

“The fuel warning light went on an hour back, and there’s no money for gas. So I suspect we’re idling on fumes. No gas means no heat.”

“Let’s just stay here then.” I folded my arms. “At least we’ll be out of the rain.”

“No. A storm is coming, and the temperature will drop tonight. We can’t sleep in this car.”

“But we don’t even have our coats. We could extend the seats back and sleep right here.”

My mom squeezed her arms. “I didn’t think we’d need our coats for this trip, so I had the movers pack them. I’m sorry about that, but we need to get going, now.”

“I’m staying in the car.” I dropped my backpack on the floorboard.

“Listen to me. We’ll freeze. We must make it to Uncle William’s. Earlier, when our car swerved out of that truck’s path heading straight toward us, we witnessed a miracle. It was incredible, but now we must take action for ourselves.”

The engine sputtered and died. The sun set, and the sky darkened. Mom was right. We had to get that entry open. Thunder rolled, and a sudden torrential downpour pounded the SUV.

We jumped as a lightning bolt struck the ground near us. My muscles stiffened—I wanted to stay put.

I stared into the woods. Thoughts of our ancestors following the setting sun from Oklahoma, enduring the open elements with limited supplies, to find this place inspired me. If they could withstand a storm, then so could I.

“Okay, Mom. Let’s do it.”

Bundled in sweaters and duck boots, we stepped into the icy darts and headed for the gate. A frigid gust rushed between us. Grabbing hold of the frozen bars with gloveless hands, grappling with wet honeysuckle, Mom and I yanked as hard as we could, but nothing.

Raindrops pelted my scalp and pricked my face before flowing in frosty trickles down my neck. Chilled to the bone, I jerked again, leaning back with my weight. There was a subtle shift, but the vines had a secure grip. I tried again, but it was no use. “It’s stuck,” I yelled.

We sloshed back to the car as the headlamps faded.

I couldn’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes. “What are we going to do?”

For several minutes, Mom shivered without a word. “We must climb over the barrier that blocks our way.”

As she wiped my cheeks with her cold hands, her strength comforted me, but the moment didn’t last. She rubbed the cold, soggy sweater stuck to my arms. “We battle not against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual forces of darkness.”

“Mom. That stuff’s not helping.”

“P. W. Stone, don’t be afraid. You know what to do.”

Drenched, I stared at her.

“Come on,” she said.

My body shook. “Mom.”

“Go ahead, Penelope.”

My gaze fixed on her face, I nodded, teeth chattering. I closed my eyes, and in my head, I said what I knew to say. Then I took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll go.” After I checked my bootlaces, Mom hugged me.

We jumped into the freezing sheets and ran toward the gate. I gripped the steel and pulled myself up, bracing my foot between the bars. Then pushing up with my legs, I hoisted my chest upon the top railing, threw one leg over and then the other.

Mom climbed right behind me.

Once on the other side, we took off, but something twisted my shoulder and flung me backward into the hard metal. When I pulled on my snagged sweater to get away, mangled iron ripped my sleeve and sliced the heel of my hand. Stinging pain radiated through my palm. Blood and water rolled off my wrist and splattered the ground.

Mom made it over, and we bolted toward the house.

Lightning cracked, and a blazing ring flashed through the surrounding forest, illuminating a young warrior amid a bluish-gray haze.

My jaw dropped. “What the—” I tapped my mom’s arm.

Brilliant thunderbolts fractured the sky. A rushing wind encircled us, whirling up leaves and pine needles.

Shaking, I shielded my face from my whipping hair and flying debris.

The warrior wasn’t alone.

“Mom.” I tried to wipe the rain and then the blood out of my eyes to see.

Shadowy, translucent figures formed a perimeter. Tall, broad-shouldered men with long dark hair in buckskin tunics carried bows and spears.

Could they be a tribe of native warriors who lived in the woodlands? What was I thinking? That couldn’t be right.

At that moment, the strength in my legs drained. A sense of peace overcame me. Were they divine warriors, the angelic who appeared as natives?

My daddy had met the Lord’s Guardian Warriors once. A weird thought entered my mind. Had they been with us all day? In the fog?

Out of breath, I slowed to a brisk walk. My eyes trained on the shining light through the pouring rainfall.

“Mom. Do you see them?” The storm blurred my vision.

“See what?” She scowled, shook her head, and kept moving.

When my boots caught on a gnarled tree root, I tripped and landed on my hands and knees. Searing pain surged through my injured hand up my wrist.

Mom reached under my arms and helped me stand. “Get up, Penelope. Keep going.”

My hand throbbed when I wiped blood and mud on my pants. I scanned the woods. Had my eyes played a trick on me? No. Were they the same beings my daddy encountered? A new desire crowded out my concern with our troubles. Who were those men, and why were they there?

After we made it through a dense, long stretch, we entered a familiar clearing. We had to be close, but a thick haze blocked our view of the manor.

Soon an outline of the first fountain and infinity pond came into view. From where gushing water once overflowed, rainwater trickled off a ledge into the pool below. A slow ripple formed on the sludge as rising waters lapped beneath.

Unusual silhouettes from the east garden captured my attention. The tall, slender cypress trees that once decorated the lawn had browned and withered. Wiry hedges along the walk clawed at the smoky air. Deformed topiaries and bushes replaced the sculpted foliage I’d remembered.

My eyes eventually found the vague three-story structure. Was it Peaceful Falls Manor? It was hard to tell at night. Rolling thunder pushed us to keep moving.

Lightning branched across the purple sky, and a ghostly wooden ship appeared in place of Peaceful Falls Manor. I shuddered and gasped. “What is going on?”

I looked over at Mom, checking if she saw the ark, too. But when I looked back, the vessel wasn’t there. Peaceful Falls Manor stood in its place.

I blinked. Had my eyes deceived me, or would this be my second chance, an escape from a life going under?

The sleeting continued, but I no longer felt its icy pricks. A numbing sensation had dulled the pain. I grabbed my mom’s hand as we walked together through obscurity.

As we reached the circular drive, wisps of smoke slowly curled from chimneys. “Someone’s home,” I said. Fighting the darkness in the blustering rain, my thoughts turned to a long hot shower, layers of warm blankets, and a crackling fire in Uncle William’s cozy chateau.

The gravity of the manor’s neglect hit. Black slime crawled from the steep roof down the gray stone exterior in several places and collected near the windows. As we ambled up the garden walk, my stomach soured at the sight of the three-tier fountain full of murky glop.

The gardens I had once cherished were no longer a geometric design. Flowering plants and bushes were dead. Overgrown leafy hedges and trees overpowered their surroundings.

I locked eyes with Mom. Her forehead creased.

“What happened to Peaceful Falls?” I asked. “The mansion is spooky. It’s not peaceful at all.”

The downpour suddenly let up.

Mom faltered, pulling on my arm for support. “I knew things were bad but had no idea it was this dire. Your uncle’s money troubles worsened, and they had to release all the housekeepers and gardeners.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. “Is that why we’re here, to be their maids?”

Mom whispered as we stepped on the front stoop. “We’re here to help, to be of service.”

Skeptical, I muttered under my breath through clenched teeth. “To be servants.”

From what I had gathered, Uncle William’s health had been rapidly declining. Aunt Hannah and the children hadn’t taken his illness very well. My aunt suffered from headaches, and the kids hadn’t helped matters either. They’d been lashing out and acting ugly.

I was sorry my uncle was sick and that my cousins could lose their father. Losing a father was a horrible feeling. I could relate since my daddy was missing, but I didn’t want to be a live-in servant.

The front door creaked open.

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