Challenge on the Hill of Fire Read online

  Praise for The Imagination Station books

  Challenge on the Hill of Fire is a great story of courage. It will help kids stay strong in their faith.

  TAMRA B., MOTHER OF TWO; CHINO, CALIFORNIA

  These books are a great combination of history and adventure in a clean manner perfect for young children.

  MARGIE B., MY SPRINGFIELD MOMMY BLOG

  Readers of Challenge on the Hill of Fire will find their faith in God strengthened as they follow cousins Patrick and Beth on an exciting adventure. . . . What begins as a “green” day ends up as a story about Saint Patrick and his vision of sharing the gospel around the world.

  COLLEEN C., SECOND-GRADE TEACHER; CHINO HILLS, CALIFORNIA

  My nine-year-old son has already read [the first two books], one of them twice. He is very eager to read more in the series too. I am planning on reading them out loud to my younger son.

  ABBI C., MOTHER OF FOUR; MINNESOTA

  [The Imagination Station books] focus on God much more than the Magic Tree House books do.

  EMILEE, AGE 7; WAYNESBORO, PENNSYLVANIA

  Our children have been riveted and on the edge of their seats through each and every chapter of The Imagination Station books. The series is wellwritten, engaging, family-friendly, and has great spiritual truths woven into the stories. Highly recommended!

  CRYSTAL P., MONEY SAVING MOM®

  Challenge on the Hill of Fire

  Copyright © 2012 Focus on the Family.

  A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188

  Focus on the Family and Adventures in Odyssey, and the accompanying logos and designs, are federally registered trademarks, and The Imagination Station is a federally registered trademark of Focus on the Family, Colorado Springs, CO 80995.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of Focus on the Family.

  With the exception of known historical figures, all characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations.

  Cover design by Michael Heath | Magnus Creative

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this book is available by contacting the Library of Congress at http://www.loc.gov/help/contact-general.html.

  Build: 2013-04-08 14:39:46

  To Ben and Christina,

  By the time this book comes out, you’ll be married and starting a new life together. Just imagine! Each new day will be as exciting as going on an adventure in the Imagination Station. Dad and I thank God for both of you!

  —NIS

  Contents

  1: A Leprechaun Trap

  2: The Gifts

  3: Kidnapped!

  4: The Druids

  5: The Fallen Tree

  6: Escape

  7: The Prophecy

  8: Finn

  9: The Bishop

  10: The Challenge

  11: Lord Lochru

  12: Princesses

  13: Poison

  14: The High King

  15: The Workshop

  Questions about Bishop Patrick

  A Leprechaun Trap

  Patrick and his cousin Beth stood in line at Whit’s End. It was Odyssey’s most popular ice-cream shop.

  Patrick felt very excited. Today was a special day. He was dressed in green. He wore a green baseball cap and a green T-shirt. He had on green shorts, green socks, and a pair of green sneakers.

  Beth wore a green shamrock pin on her shirt.

  Mr. Whittaker stood behind the counter. He finished with one customer and then turned to Patrick and Beth. His kind blue eyes sparkled. He lightly touched his large white moustache.

  “Hi, Patrick . . . Beth. What can I do for you?” he asked. “Beth and I would both like a green milkshake, please,” Patrick said. “We’re celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day today!” Whit touched his light-green shirt. “So am I,” he said with a smile. He began making the milkshakes. He glanced at Patrick. “Were you named after Saint Patrick?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Patrick said. “I think I was named after my Uncle Patrick.”

  “But you know about Saint Patrick, I assume,” Whit said.

  Patrick looked at Beth. She shrugged.

  “He wore green, right?” Patrick guessed.

  Whit chuckled. “There was more to Saint Patrick than a color,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Beth asked.

  Whit’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll tell you more when I bring the milkshakes to your table.”

  Patrick and Beth sat down at one of the tables to wait. They watched Whit fill their orders.

  Just then the door opened. Patrick’s neighbor Jake walked in. He wore a yellow bandana tied around his neck. He had on his Cub Scout cap. His Cub T-shirt was green.

  Patrick liked going over to Jake’s house. That’s where they met for their Cub Scout meetings.

  “Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!” Patrick and Beth both said to Jake.

  Jake waved to the cousins and stood in line to order. Then he walked over to their table. He was carrying a bag. He had just bought freshly baked cookies.

  “Are you going to eat all those cookies by yourself?” Patrick asked.

  “Some friends are coming over to my house in a few minutes,” Jake said. “We’re going to build a leprechaun trap. I want to catch a leprechaun. Then he’ll have to give us a pot of gold. We’ll be rich!”

  “Are you using the cookies as bait?” Beth asked.

  Jake looked at the bag. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “Do leprechauns like chocolate-chip cookies?”

  “They might if leprechauns existed,” Beth said. “But they don’t.”

  “Come over and see for yourself,” Jake said. He headed for the door. “Hurry up! You don’t want to miss your share of the gold.” The bell above the door jingled as it shut behind him.

  Beth’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “A leprechaun trap? Really?” she asked.

  Patrick smiled. “Maybe we’ll catch one. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  Mr. Whittaker arrived with their orders. “What’s all this about leprechauns?” he asked.

  “Beth and I are going to help build a leprechaun trap with Jake,” Patrick said.

  Whit sat down. “Are you?” he asked. “Well, I hope you use the right kind of wood and nails. You can’t make a trap out of just anything, you know.”

  Patrick’s eyes lit up. “Maybe you should write out the instructions,” he said.

  Whit laughed. He had a deep, hearty laugh.

  Beth groaned. She said, “I don’t understand what all this has to do with Saint Patrick. He wasn’t a leprechaun.”

  Whit looked at Beth and then Patrick. “Would you like to find out?” he asked.

  Patrick and Beth looked at each other. That question usually meant one thing: an adventure in the Imagination Station. The Imagination Station was one of Whit’s many inventions. It allowed kids to experience different times in history.

  “Can we?” Patrick asked.

  Beth clapped her hands together. “Sure!” she said.

  Patrick suddenly shook his head. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I mean, what if it’s true? What if we could get a pot of gold?”

  “What?” Beth cried out. “When have you ever heard reports of any leprechaun sightings in Odyssey?”

  Patrick frowned and said, “I still don’t want to miss building a trap with Jake and the group. We’ve got to
get going.”

  “You know how the Imagination Station works,” Whit said. “Time is different there. I think you’ll be able to have an adventure and still build leprechaun traps if you want to. Besides, the treasure you’ll find in your adventure may be better than a pot of gold.”

  “Really?” Patrick asked. He was doubtful.

  “Come down to the workshop and find out for yourself,” Whit said.

  The Gifts

  Whit’s workshop was in the basement of Whit’s End. Whit worked on most of his inventions there.

  The Imagination Station sat in the middle of the large room. The machine had a round front with dark glass and a door on each side. Patrick thought it looked like the front of a helicopter.

  Whit touched a button on the side of the machine. The door facing them slid open. Patrick waited for Beth to climb in. Then he slid onto the seat next to her.

  “Wait,” Whit said. He reached over to a worktable and picked up a small tin box. He handed it to Patrick.

  Patrick held it up. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

  “A tin of breath mints?” Beth asked.

  Patrick suddenly smiled. “I know what this is! It’s a flint and tinderbox.”

  “You’re right!” Whit said. He sounded impressed.

  Patrick opened the box. Inside were a small flat rock, a little bar of steel, and a piece of charred cloth. “This is how they started fires before matches were invented,” he said to Beth.

  Beth turned to Whit. “Do you have anything for me to take?” she asked.

  Whit reached into his left pocket. He pulled out two acorns and handed them to Beth. “These will be used when someone’s in great danger,” he said. “You’ll need to take action quickly.”

  Beth looked at the acorns. “He gets to start fires, and I get to . . . plant trees?” she asked.

  Whit smiled at her. “You’ll see when the time comes,” he said.

  The Imagination Station began to hum loudly. The lights on the dashboard in front of Patrick flashed.

  “Just push the red button when you’re ready,” Whit said.

  Beth nodded to Patrick. He pushed the red button.

  As the door closed, Patrick heard Whit’s voice. It sounded as if he were far away.

  “Beware of the druids!” Whit called out. “But look for the bishop. He’ll help you!”

  “Druids?” Beth asked Patrick in the growing darkness.

  Patrick didn’t have time to answer. The Imagination Station shook and rattled. It rumbled. It rocked back and forth.

  Then everything went dark.

  Kidnapped!

  Oink. Oink. Grunt. Oink!

  Beth and Patrick stood in the mud. The Imagination Station faded away.

  Black, brown, and spotted pigs crowded all around them. The pigs dug in the mud with their snouts. They oinked and squealed.

  Beth looked at Patrick’s clothes and pointed. “Look at you,” she said.

  The Imagination Station had altered their clothes.

  Patrick was now dressed in a red tunic that reached down to his knees. Beneath that he wore a pair of brown leggings. A striped cape hung from his shoulders. It was clasped over his right shoulder with a metal brooch. A wide belt was wrapped around his waist. The tinderbox was inside the pocket of his tunic.

  Beth wore a long white dress with sleeves. Over that she had on a bright-blue vest that laced down the front and a long purple skirt that reached to the ground. She put her hands in the pockets. The two acorns were inside one of the pockets.

  Beth wrinkled her nose. “This place stinks,” she said.

  Patrick sniffed. “P.U., I think we stink too,” he said.

  Beth shivered. “Brrrr. I’m freezing,” she said.

  “Me, too,” Patrick said. He rubbed his arms with his hands.

  A cold, wet fog hung over everything. It was hard to see. Beth heard the sound of running water.

  At that moment, the fog parted. Beth could now see that they were next to a wide river.

  Patrick gasped. “Who’s that?”

  On the river was a man paddling a small boat. The boat was shaped like a round bowl. It was covered with a patchwork of leather.

  The man in the boat wore a dark cloak. The cloak’s hood was pulled over his face. “You, boy!” the man shouted. “Come and help me dock my boat.”

  Patrick looked around as if the man had called to someone else.

  “I think he means you,” Beth whispered.

  Patrick frowned and then hurried over to the edge of the river. Beth followed close behind. The heavy fog made her nervous.

  The boat drew in closer. Patrick took a step and was suddenly knee-deep in the water. “It’s freezing,” he said with a groan. Patrick reached out toward the boat.

  The man grabbed Patrick’s wrist.

  “Hey!” Patrick said. He sounded surprised.

  The man pulled Patrick into the boat.

  “What are you doing?” Patrick cried out.

  Beth rushed forward. She stumbled in the icy water and nearly fell. The man grabbed the neckline of her dress and pulled her into the boat too.

  “Two are better than one,” the man said. He pushed Beth down to the bottom of the boat. In one fast motion he had a rope in his hands. He quickly tied Patrick’s wrists and ankles together.

  “Help!” Patrick called out.

  Beth struggled to her feet. Another piece of rope seemed to come from nowhere. The man grabbed Beth with strong hands and turned her around.

  He instantly bound her wrists and ankles just like Patrick’s. “Why are you doing this to us?” Beth asked.

  “It’s all part of the trade,” the man said.

  “What trade?” Beth asked.

  From beneath his hood he said, “Slaves.”

  Then the man knelt in the front of the boat with a long oar. He paddled the boat down the river.

  Splash . . . splash . . . splash . . .

  Beth and Patrick sat in silence. Thick fog made it impossible to see where they were going.

  “This isn’t the best Saint Patrick’s Day I’ve ever had,” Patrick whispered to Beth.

  Beth looked up at the man and cleared her throat. “Sir?” she asked. She hoped being polite and showing respect would get him to talk.

  The man turned a little. The hood still covered most of his face. Beth saw bits of dried meat stuck to his scruffy beard.

  “Where are you taking us?” Beth asked.

  “The castle of Tara!” the man said brightly. Then he laughed harshly. “You’ll be joining everyone at the great feast.”

  “The great feast?” Patrick asked.

  “Surely you know of it,” the man said. “All the grand nobility will be there. Even King Logaire and his beautiful queen.”

  “I can’t wait to meet them,” Patrick said.

  Beth knew Patrick was being sarcastic.

  But the boatman didn’t. He said, “It’s a grand time. Bards will sing their songs. Teachers will teach their arts. Men will try their skill in chariot races, contests, and games. Everyone in Ireland will be there. Noblemen and common peasants alike.”

  Ireland, she thought, that’s where Saint Patrick lived.

  “Is the festival even for us lowly slaves?” Beth asked.

  “Aye,” the man said. “The wise ones will have special tasks for you.”

  “The wise ones?” Beth asked.

  The man lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “The druids,” he said.

  Beth shivered. “Patrick,” she whispered, “are those the people Mr. Whittaker warned us about?”

  The Druids

  Patrick nodded to Beth, and then he gulped. He remembered hearing about druids in school. The druids weren’t very nice.

  The boatman paddled harder and faster. After a few minutes, the boat turned toward the shore. It slid up on a muddy, flat place at the river’s edge. Then it bumped to a stop.

  Two men wearing white, hooded robes appeared out of the
woods. Beth thought they looked like ghosts in the mist.

  One was old. He was short and thin with a long gray beard. The other was big and husky like a bear. His red beard and curly hair stuck out under his white hood.

  “Get the slaves, Shane,” said the old man with the gray beard.

  The big man reached into the boat and grabbed Patrick’s arms.

  Ugh! Patrick thought. He stinks worse than I do!

  Shane lifted Patrick out of the boat. He set Patrick down on the muddy shore.

  Shane lifted Beth out of the boat too. Then he spoke to the man in the boat. “Where did you find these two?” Shane asked. “They’re scrawny.”

  “Hey!” Beth said. “I’m slender, not scrawny.”

  Shane scowled at her.

  “The boy is a swinekeeper,” the man whispered. “The girl was with him.”

  “Swinekeeper!” Patrick said. “I’m not a—”

  “Quiet!” Shane said with a snarl. He tossed a pouch into the bottom of the boat.

  Clink.

  “I expect better-quality slaves next time,” Shane said to the hooded man.

  The boatman grunted.

  Shane untied Patrick. “Push the boat back into the river,” he said.

  Patrick thought about arguing. He thought about escaping now that he was untied. But Beth was still bound.

  Patrick shuffled into the icy water. He pushed on the boat with his shoulder. Hard. It slid into the water.

  The man in the boat paddled away. The boat disappeared into the fog.

  Shane grabbed Patrick’s arms and tied his wrists again. Then he knelt and did the same to his ankles.

  “How are we supposed to walk?” Patrick asked.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Shane said.

  Patrick and Beth shuffled forward like a couple of penguins.

  Shane and the old man led Patrick and Beth into the nearby woods. The fog gave the trees an eerie look.

  “They didn’t have monsters in Saint Patrick’s time, did they?” Beth whispered.