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An epic story of good versus evil, as Maggie Sheffield faces the truth about the world she thought she knew. Book One in the Seventh World Trilogy.

Calai was bewildering. The port was full of fishing boats, and the smell of salt and fish mingled in the air, making Maggie’s stomach queasy. Fishermen, housemaids, vendors hawking their wares, and children playing tag formed a crushing mass of people. Maggie held tightly to her trunk as she descended the plank.

Suddenly very aware that she wasn’t sure what to do next, Maggie allowed herself to be carried by the flow of the crowd. She soon found herself on the outskirts of the harbour, looking into the town. Darkness was settling fast, and street lanterns came on like fireflies as the lamplighters went about their business.

Laughter spilled out from a nearby pub where men from the docks were gathered after a hard day’s work. Maggie stopped a big man on his way to the rough-looking place.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, trying not to notice what a grim face he had, “but I””I need to find an inn, and I’m not sure…”

She looked up at him for a moment, and the gentleness in his eyes caught her by surprise.

“There’s a good one not far from here,” the man said. He pointed her down the street and gave her directions which twisted through the town in labyrinthine fashion. Maggie tried hard not to let the string of lefts, rights, and “on the corner of’s” blur together.

The man tipped his hat. “Good evening to you,” he said, and Maggie set off in the direction he had indicated.

It didn’t take long for Maggie to realize that something was wrong, either with the directions or with her recollection of them. She kept going, uneasily, as the town grew darker and less friendly.

She stopped abruptly, and whirled around at the sound of footsteps behind her. She could see nothing in the shadows, but her fingers tightened their grip on her trunk all the same. She knew better than to trust the darkness.

When the street remained still and no more menacing noises found their way to her ears, Maggie turned slowly and began to search out her way once more. A moment later they were there again””footsteps. She picked up her pace.

She had not walked more than a block when she came to a dead end: a high brick wall crumbling with age. She reached out her hand to touch it, willing it to disappear and become the well-lit window of an inn.

Behind her, she heard the sound of a match flaring to life.

“Out a little late, ain’t you?” a voice asked. Maggie turned to see two men, the burning light of a small oil lamp illuminating unshaven faces. One of them played with a knife, twirling it in his fingers.

The other man grinned at his fellow, then looked at Maggie again.

“Didn’t nobody tell you this ain’t a good neighbourhood?” he asked. “It’s crawling with rabble.”

The man with the knife laughed.

“So, what you got in there?” the speaker asked. He gestured toward the trunk.

“Nothing,” Maggie said, finding her voice. “Only some clothes.” She thought of what would happen if they got to the money hidden in the bottom of the trunk. She would be stranded here in Galce without a way to get back home, much less reach Pravik.

“Oh, come now,” the speaker said again. He moved forward menacingly. “It don’t take much to make us happy.”

Maggie started to move in front of the trunk, when she gasped in fear. A huge black shadow was moving up behind the men. Glowing eyes announced that the shadow was alive.

A lilting voice, from somewhere behind the shadow, drew the men’s attention to the threat behind them.
“Picking fights with women, boys? What would your mothers say?”

The men whirled around, falling back before the black shadow. The first man dropped the lamp as his partner looked for an opening to run. The glass of the lamp cracked in pieces, but a faint light kept burning.

“Don’t tell me you give up already?” the voice said. The wiry figure of a young man stepped out from behind the big shadow. “We haven’t even come to blows yet.”

“We didn’t mean nothing,” the man with the knife said. “We was just having some fun.”

“So am I,” the young man said. “Isn’t this fun?”

The shadow growled and opened a mouth full of gleaming teeth. The man with the knife dropped to his knees on the pavement. “Let us go,” he begged.

The young man sighed, then stepped aside and slapped the shadow on the rump. “All right, Bear,” he said. “Move aside.”

The shadow moved obligingly, opening the way down the street. The men scrambled to their feet and raced for the safety of the alleys.

Maggie had sunk down to the ground, her back against the crumbling brick wall. The young man watched the ruffians go with his arms crossed over his chest, then turned back to Maggie with a grin. The grin faded fast at the look on her face. He stepped closer to her and offered his hand, pulling her to her feet.

Copyright 2008 Rachel Starr Thomson. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.