Free White Horse Talisman by Andrea Spalding Page B

from outside.
    â€œNo,” Adam called back.
    â€œHave you held up the talisman?”
    â€œNot yet,” he admitted.
    â€œCome on, Adam. What are you waiting for?” Owen was getting impatient.
    â€œAll right. Here goes.” Adam unclasped his hand and exposed the half-talisman.
    For a moment it just lay there. Then it began to feel warm, and, just as it had in his dream, it started to glow.
    â€œAre you okay, Adam?” called Holly.
    Adam barely heard her. Magic filled the air. The rock slabs around him pulsed and throbbed with life. He reached out and touched the rock opposite.
    It moved. The beam of light from the broken talisman lit the opening of a new passage.
    Adam looked down the dark passage with horror. Dull red flames glimmered in the distance. Fear washed over him, fear of things lurking in small dark places. He turned towards the entrance to ask Owen and Holly for help but was stopped. Frantically he pushed with his hands and his shoulder. An invisible barrier blocked him from the entrance. He was trapped.
    â€œTHE BLOWER OF STONE MUST ENTER ALONE!” boomed a voice.
    Adam shrank back.
    â€œTHE BLOWER OF STONE MUST ENTER ALONE!” boomed the voice again.
    Adam took a deep breath. “I am alone,” he said. His voice shook. “I’m Adam. I blew into the stone. Wh … who are you?”
    â€œI MAKE IRON BEND AND WATER FLY.”
    â€œYou do?” said Adam, baffled.
    â€œPROCLAIM MY NAME,” continued the voice.
    Adam groaned “Oh no, not a riddle. I’m no good at rid–dles. I need Holly and Owen.” Once more he turned back, but the invisible wall held. He sank back, cracking his head on a rock. “Ouch!” he cried, rubbing the spot. “Okay, okay … I’ll try on my own.” He pondered the riddle. Come on brain, think. Lots of people bend iron. But flying water? “Do you mean water going over a waterfall, or pouring water?” he called.
    No answer.
    Adam concentrated.
    Who makes iron bend? he mused. People in factories, bridge builders, welders, blacksmiths, ironworkers … yes, that was it! Blacksmiths, of course. The blacksmith makes iron bend when he’s making horseshoes. And red-hot horseshoes are dunked into cold water … which evaporates into steam … so … flying water! “Are you the blacksmith?” he called.
    Still no reply.
    But that had to be it. Adam thumped the rock in frustra–tion. It was the only thing that made sense. He muttered the words to himself. “‘I make iron bend, and water fly. Proclaim my name.’ Oh … I’ve got to name you … and … and … this is Wayland’s Smithy.” Adam raised his voice. “Are you called Wayland?”
    â€œENTER, BLOWER OF STONE.”
    Adam moved forward. Nothing stopped him. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, and screwed up his courage. Holding the half-talisman up to light his way, he bent double and edged into the low entrance. With each step the red light grew stronger and the passage grew warmer. Soon he was dripping sweat. His heart beat so loudly, it was almost deafening. But was it his heart? Adam paused to listen. The tunnel glowed and pulsed with fiery red light. The noise was not his heartbeat; it was the rhythmic blowing of a gigantic bellows in a blacksmith’s forge. The sound overwhelmed him. He could go no farther.
    â€œWHO SENT YOU?” boomed the voice.
    Adam thought for a moment. He mustn’t mention the dragon. “Er … The White Horse. We … we … were told to … br … bring the broken talisman here,” Adam shouted.
    â€œWHAT DO YOU SEEK?”
    Adam shrugged. “The red mare, I guess. To find her for the White Horse and …”
    â€œAND?”
    â€œCan you fix the talisman?” finished Adam, his voice shaking with effort and fear.
    An image appeared on the fiery walls. Two halves of the talisman