My eyes widened even more. I felt sure that they were as big as dinner plates.
Jared grinned. "Cool." Helen looked behind us, shaky.
She looked at the ground, deep in thought. She closed her eyes.
"What is it, Helen?" I said. "What are you thinking?" Her head snapped back up alert.
"We've got to move," she screamed. "Get on Fallie! Make her run!"
We all leaped on, and I clutched Fallie's mane.
"Go, Fallie!" I whispered. "GO!" She bolted. I shook, shocked, as the wind whistled in my ears. Trees and boulders flew past as she galloped past the fields.
Every time she touched the ground I felt it. And it hurt. Her spine drove into me, making me gasp. I used my knees and placed them on her withers, then knotted my hands in her mane.
Much better.
She flew, on and on, and then I began to smell something. Like when Elsa got distracted while she made toast, or John or James decided to see how durable a pancake was in the oven.
The result? Combustion and a really bad smell.
The smell seared the insides of my nostrils, and the burning scent seemed to ruin the scenic fields. I turned around and almost fell over.
Dozens of bodies, marching onward, with a darkish green tint to their skin, marched in a long line that stretched for a mile.
They wore armor, black and thick, like old iron. Embers of tiny glistening eyes bored into mine, full of so much hatred and disgust I had to look away. The "men" clenched weapons, wicked curved swords and scimitars and halberds and knives, all stained with something dark. I felt nauseated, and chilled. Fallie's breathing became more labored as she pushed on, sweat pouring off her sides. Helen screamed when she realized how fast the soldiers were coming.
The clanking grew louder, and I visualized death--cruel and painful.
I shut my eyes and saw spots twinkling before my eyes, then clenched Fallie's mane harder.
There had to be a way out of this. There was always a way. In stories I'd read, people would do something and everything would end up okay.
There would be one thing that that person would do, and everything would fall in place.
What was that thing?
I saw blue spots, yellow, green, and red. My eyes felt sore. What could we do?
I searched my mind--Fallie wouldn't last any longer. She had been running for full speed for--how long? Half an hour? Longer?
I did not know.
We reached the end of the fields where a tongue of forest showed and the mountain was visible. I could see cracks of rock and chunks of stone, all crumbling and holding a marble-y sheen.
Then I saw it: A crevice, six feet tall, about three wide. I leaped off of Fallie and jumped in.
"Hurry!" I hissed. Helen and Jared followed Fallie as she trotted inside, bobbing her head at the cold, dank dark.
I heard a clash at the door: shouting, bumping, clanking.
But apparently their thrashings caused the fragile rock to collapse, and the few who had fought at the crevice entrance became buried. I shuddered in the dark as every single chance of escape, flight, and sunlight disappeared. There was no kindness for the rugged creatures who had chased us. I knew they would not show us mercy either, no matter what we did.
My hope extuinguished in a sudden spurt. They would wait outside for days, maybe weeks, until we came out. We would either die or fall into the hands of those monsters.
There was only one thing to do. I walked at a brisk pace, motioning for Helen, Jared, and Fallie to follow.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go."

"I think this is called the Death Mountain. Second tallest mountain in both of our worlds, after Everest."
"Helen," hissed Jared, echoing on the walls. The walls hissed back at him, sound traveling down the corridor.
"Yes?" said Helen.
"Please shut up." I ran my fingers around the slimy walls, feeling the bumps and cracks. I shivered. The cold stone chilled me until my fingers grew numb.
Fallie nipped my shoulder nervously.
Don't you have any food? she whispered to me. I sighed.
"Fallie, if I had food, we would have eaten it a long time ago." She harrumphed and kicked the walls.
Her kick resonated everywhere, making me cringe. I stumbled forward and landed on my face, hands stinging.
"Fallie, you--" I got up, about to go forward, but the corridor ended. Instead it channeled off to the left. That could only mean one thing: this corridor was not made naturally. Some one, or some people, had come and chiseled out the rock for a specific reason.
I gulped foreboding and followed the corridor on. A faint, almost invisible flare of light appeared after only ten minutes. It looked like it was about to flicker out, the blue light looked so weak.
I began to run and heard Helen's and Jared's steps behind me. Fallie's clopping were already too recognizable.
Soon the light became stronger, nearly blinding me. Other lights joined in, making a cavern become more visible.
In the center of the cavern, a coffin sat, a sword on top of it. It was the sword that was glowing.
Trembling, I approached the coffin. It was made of glass, with only diamonds decorating the edges. I read the epitaph carved into the glass:
"Here lies
Alice Erringer."
Helen and I both gasped at the same time.
"Erringer...that's my last name!" I whispered. "This is my mother!" I knelt by the glass, taking in the face, trying to imprint it in my brain.
"Sam." It was Helen.
"What?"
"I--we can't see it."
"See what?"
"The....whatever it is. What is it?" What?
"It's a coffin. But--it's made completely of glass. And--wait a second. I think there's...there's a sword behind it! Glowing. Blue."
"Okay, take the sword out," Helen closed her eyes, breathing heavily, muttering something.
I did. Jared whistled as the sword glittered. Helen opened her eyes.
"Oh my--" She cursed, then stood up. "I knew it," she hissed.
"What?" I said, letting the sword swing down by my side. "What is it?" She inhaled sharply, eyes flashing.
"Sam, what was your father's name?"
"Uh, Simon. I think."
Helen stomped her foot. "This is bad. This is bad. It can't be him. . . no."
"What?" I asked. Helen looked troubled. She was biting her nails.
"Nothing," Helen replied quickly. "You should keep the sword. It was probably your father's." Her voice cracked. "But your mother, at least, has an honorable burial. No one will disturb her for the next couple thousand years, at least."
Jared snorted. "Great."
I shot him a dirty look, but picked up the sword. By the way their eyes followed me, I could tell they could see it now.
"It's very pretty," commented Helen, running her finger along a floral design stamped into the base of the blade, which looked like some sort of Celtic pattern. "Is there a scabbard?" I checked.
"Yup."
The scabbard, which was black(matching the leather sword handle) also had a silver floral design imprinted on the outside. I slid the blade in, and the ring sounded more powerful than a boulder, and sharp enough to split a hair in two. (or four, for that matter)
I nodded. "Let's go."