The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure) by N.M. Singel Page A

incinerated them.
    “Whoa, I’ll take that as a no.” Blake stepped back. He had no more ideas . . . except one. Take the creature head-on. He’d probably end up like a marshmallow stuck in the fire too long, but what else could he do? He did know how to strip a football. The coach drilled that maneuver just last week. Pop it out from behind and then grab it and run. Simple enough, but this was an eight-foot, giant blowtorch ready to kill him--not some wimpy thirteen-year-old kid on the school’s football team. That didn’t matter. It was all he could do.
    Leaping forward, Blake slammed the edge of the book with his fist, launching the chronicle. The colorful lights returned to the sacred text as it spun upward, turning the room into an enormous kaleidoscope. He grabbed the book before the creature snagged it. “Take that, barbecue man!” Blake yelled. “I own you, dude!”
    Protecting the glowing text in his arms, Blake darted around the furious giant and dodged skyrockets whizzing past his face. He grabbed the sizzling metal door handle and immediately let it go. “Aaaahhh!” he screamed, his skin seared. He had to get out of there. Ignoring the burning pain in his hand, he forced the handle down and pushed his way into the hallway.
    “Whoa!” Blake's feet began to sink into something squishy. It definitely wasn’t the hallway.

CHAPTER 5
    PASSAGES

     

     
    Where the heck am I? Blake turned around. The door to the classroom was gone--everything was gone except for miles and miles of waist-high, waving bluish-purple grass surrounding him.
    “Second lesson, Mr. Wyatt,” the chronicle said, still tucked under his arm. “Courage is simply fear without a place to go. Real powers lie within.”
    “Holy cripe, what is this?”
    “More like where is this . You’re in Saphir Pré, the sapphire fields of the Parabulls.”
    “What happened to Hothead?” he asked, not really caring about the answer. He ran his hand over the soft, blue grass. It changed color under his fingers.
    “Release my pages.”
    Blake positioned the book in front of him and stepped back. The cover slowly opened as the chronicle drifted closer to him. The word Determination glimmered crimson at the top of the page.
    Blake read the strange lyric. Something familiar and at the same time foreign resonated through his brain. A mysterious new world hidden inside him was revealing itself.

     
    Determination
    Much will be said of the man from Genoa
    Sailing west with three little ships from Spain.
    The words will be loud, and the results will be clear,
    The words Prosperity, Progress, and Pain.

     
    But another stands aboard this ship.
    One who opens all eyes.
    Someone who sees, and knows, and understands,
    And hears the other sailors’ cries.

     
    Wyatt is the name,
    Plucked from another time and place.
    By winds and birds and compass points,
    Delivering the Admiral from disgrace.

     
    For when Columbus takes to the sea,
    And unfurls Maria’s sails wide,
    A secret evil walks her decks,
    And destiny almost dies.

     
    The journey is long for an Old World to take,
    But the wings know the migration.
    The Ancient Mariner with a dream to catch
    Succeeds by Determination.

     
    Blake Wyatt stared at the glowing page. He felt a trickle of sweat down the back of his neck. “Why is my name -- ”
    The chronicle snapped its cover shut but remained hovering, interrupting the boy’s question. “Your assignment, Blakemore.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    A sweet-smelling breeze whooshed through the blue grass. The scent reminded him of a plate of warm cookies, only better. Then he heard something squishing through the grass. He stumbled backward, looking for a thick patch of grass to hide behind. No way did he want to meet up with that hotheaded giant again. But from the tall violet grass a waft of glowing golden mist appeared, settling a few feet in front of him. Two English bulldogs emerged from the swirling vapors, their iridescent coats