Bumblestook: Book 1, The Accidental Wizard (13 page)

“Fancifoot, I need to see these children’s faces clearly and I need the volume turned up. I cannot hear a word.”

The creature’s whiskers twitched in annoyance as it ran lightly over the keys, tapping them here and there.

“Why ‘e can’t learn to do it ‘imself I’m sure I don’t know!” Fancifoot complained in a tiny, squeaky voice. “It’s not like it’s hard or ‘e can’t read a book on it. Just likes to order me about, that’s what!”

Bartholeumous appeared not to hear it, keeping his eyes glued to the crystal as the creature manipulated the keys. Soon, a tiny arrow appeared on the picture in the crystal; clicking repeatedly on the children’s faces, which grew in size till they filled the faceted screen. Abruptly, Farley’s voice came in loud and clear.

“…ever since I was a baby, but no one else can hear ‘em. Big Grey says
nobody
can ‘cept
me
! Not even you, Fiona. He said you were only playing. Is that true? You really never talked to them?”

Bartholeumous watched Fiona shake her head solemnly. Whatever Farley was talking about,
she
obviously took it seriously. And who was this Big Grey? The Wizard frowned. His eyes
drifted to the ceiling as he searched his memory. Failing to find mention of any such person, his eyes flicked back to the crystal as Farley continued to speak.

“Big Grey says the Earthbound—that’s what they’re called cuz they’re sorta stuck to the Earth—anyway, he says they talk to each other all the time, but they hardly ever find a
Human
they can talk to. I guess that makes me kinda different. I dunno if that’s good or bad.”

“It’s not good
or
bad. It’s just the way you
are
,” Fiona, wise beyond her years, replied. “Like how
I’m
good at gymnastics and how sometimes I know how something’s gonna turn out
before
it happens and how my mom and dad can see through doors—”

“Your mom and dad can see through
doors
? Can you do that too?” Farley asked incredulously.

“Mummy says I will someday, when I’m bigger. She says it’s a part of who I am. Like how you can talk to the rocks. It’s just a part of who you
are
.”

Far away, Bartholeumous leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling, as he gazed intently at the scene unfolding in the crystal.

“So-o-o-o,” he said, allowing himself a small satisfied smile. “He talks to rocks, does he? And apparently they talk back! This could be the proof I have been looking for—if it is not all in the boy’s head, that is.” He looked down at the small creature sitting beside the keyboard.

“Fancifoot,
save
!” he commanded regally. “Put it in the file marked
Pudding
!”

The creature obediently tapped away at the keys until the cheerful robotic voice chirped, “Your file has been saved!”

Fancifoot sniffed. “Now, was that so hard? Bet ‘e didn’t even watch what I was doing! How’s ’e ever going to learn how to do it ’imself if ’e doesn’t pay attention, I ask me-self.”

Bartholeumous sat stroking his beard and staring into space. The fingers of his other hand drummed rhythmically on the tabletop as he muttered.

“Earthbound…Earthbound…” Then, “Fancifoot!” he bellowed. “What is that thing you do with the computer?
Fetch
! No—
seek
!”

“
Search
!” Fancifoot shouted, stomping one little foot as his whiskers twitched indignantly. But his tiny voice was just a squeak in the Wizard’s ears, so he typed the word ‘Search’ in a large fancy font. “If ‘ed only give me a lissen, ‘ed know, wouldn’ ‘e? Thinks ‘es too big, great big, wizardy wumpus! Too big to give a little guy like me a lissen.”

“Ah, yes—
search
! Initiate a search for the word
Earthbound
,” Bartholeumous commanded.

Fancifoot tapped away, setting the computer humming. A minute or so passed without anything happening.

Suddenly, the computer emitted a loud electronic buzz and crackling sparks arose from the cable connected to the crystal! The face of the crystal itself clouded over and a message appeared on the computer’s screen.

“Unknown Error!” Bartholeumous sputtered. “
Un
believable!” he shouted, slamming the flat of his hand on the tabletop.

Fancifoot leapt into the air in surprise, then scampered down the elaborate turnings of the closest table leg. As he neared the floor, he stopped to press the center of a carved design and a small wooden door sprang open. He dashed inside, closing the tiny door behind him.

Above him, Bartholeumous roared, “Shutting down? How can it be shutting down? What does that mean anyway—
Unknown Error
! I certainly did
not
make an error—unknown or otherwise! Fancifoot! Fancifoot! Where is that creature when I need him? Oh, bother! I suppose that is what I get for relying on
Human
technology. I will just have to do it the old fashioned way.” With a loud scrape, he pushed back the heavy chair and stood. “To the library!” he proclaimed.

One might then reasonably expect him to head for one of the many aisles filled with books. However, Bartholeumous often had extraordinary ways of doing ordinary things. Instead, he stooped and crouched beneath the old, oak table, then reached out to push a wooden lever, positioned in the center of its underside. A hidden panel slid to one side, releasing a measured stream of sparkling dust, before sliding back to close. The particles fell to the floor, landing in a small heap in the exact center of the mosaic design. The Wizard chanted under his breath, muttering a string of unintelligible words, with the exception of the final word;
Earthbound
. The small pile of glittering dust began to smolder from the top down. When the entire mound glowed like an ember, one floor tile after the other lit up in succession, until the entire nexus of the design pulsated like a multicolored, flashing, neon sign. Then, a stream of light shot out from under the table at the speed of lightning.

“Horse-feathers!” Bartholeumous exclaimed, bumping his head on the underside of the table, in his eagerness to follow the lights. He crawled out (ruefully rubbing his noggin as he stood) and began following the circuitous route laid out by the trail of glowing tiles. Eventually, they led into one of the unlit corridors, formed by wandering walls of bookshelves.

As Bartholeumous disappeared, a single globe detached itself from the center of the room, bounced along the ceiling and headed into the darkness which had swallowed the Wizard. The globe was actually a living creature, somewhat like a jellyfish of the air. Its globular body consisted of a layer of thin, resilient, transparent skin, over a thick layer of bio-luminescent jelly, which glowed a warm, golden yellow. Beneath this were the creature’s organs, the largest of which was similar to a balloon. It produced a gaseous substance, allowing the creature to float in air. Tiny tubes led from the balloon organ to over two dozen small openings on the surface of the creature’s skin. Similar to a whale’s blowhole, these could be opened and closed at will; allowing the animal to release measured amounts of gas, propelling it forwards, backwards, up, down and sideways. If it were in a hurry, it could also produce a rolling gait by emitting quick bursts of gas through a series of holes along its diameter. The resulting sound could
almost
be considered musical…

As the globe creature advanced, it shed light on the bizarre construction and contents of the library shelves. On the left lurched a set of metal shelves, such as might be found in an ordinary workshop or garage. However, an ordinary person would have taken care that the shelves were of the same length and width, as well as level! Its sides leaned in at the bottom and out at the top. Shelves slanted this way and that, with girders set at odd angles to bolster them. The bolt heads, holding this contraption together, were inscribed with the jagged symbol for lightning. The entire structure crackled and spat with electricity. The books, which slid and slumped together on the lopsided shelves, were bound in wood and rubber (as well as rubber wood). Electrical wires and cables of various colors and sizes coiled and stretched along the tops of the books; twitching and hissing with electronic charge. A pair of black rubber gloves hung from a hook nearby.

To the right, there appeared to be the wall of a cave, studded with protrusions of raw crystal. Irregular excavations, into its uneven surface, created roughhewn bookshelves. Lined with sharply pointed stalactites and stalagmites, they resembled gaping, toothy maws. Behind these formidable guardians, lay stacks of stone tablets inscribed with ancient pictographs. A cold, damp breeze emanated from several large cracks in the wall of rock, accompanied by faint echoes of batwings and dripping water.

The globe made a sharp turn, shedding its light into a long narrow hallway lined with more of the bizarre bookshelves. There were shelves of twisting, intertwining vines; of fantastically shaped and colored coral; of strangely carved Mammoth tusks and Sabertooth skulls; of driftwood and pieces of sunken ships; of metal pipes, curved and straight, through which water could be heard rushing. All of these and more, quickly came to light and just as quickly fled back into the darkness, as the sphere of light bobbed and spun its way down the corridor. Finally it came to the end, in front of an antique (but otherwise ordinary) walnut bookcase, where the trail of glowing, mosaic tiles stopped. There, Bartholeumous stooped, peering unsuccessfully through the wavy, old glass.

“Would you be so kind as to shed some light on these subjects,” he requested, gesturing to the rows of books, leaning this way and that, behind the bookcase doors.

The creature bobbed and dipped, accompanied by its customary musical toots; descending until the end of the cramped aisle was flooded with its warm yellow light. Bartholeumous bent to the task at hand, perusing the spines of the ancient volumes for a clue as to what he was seeking.

“H-m-m-m, Songs of the Salamander, Moondances for the New Millennium, Astronomical Gastronomy; A Book of Celestial Recipes,” he muttered, slowly running a large-knuckled, index finger along the glass. “Astrological Architecture, Taming the Unicorn, Communing with Earth—” Bartholeumous leaned in close to examine the last, his breath creating a fleeting mist on the glass. “ A Collection of Ancient Earthlore,” he said, reading the rest of the faded title with difficulty. “Possibly, possibly.” He nodded, eyes narrowing.

The Wizard reached out with one hand to press his fingertips against the glass door, causing it to ripple and waver at the points of contact. First his fingertips, then his entire hand passed through the barrier as if it were water. He grasped the book, pulling it out as the glass re-solidified.

He did not immediately open it, having great respect for the dangers oft hidden in the pages of books. He was well aware that, once opened, such things could be released which had the potential to create great changes in the world; things not easily put back. He examined it slowly; running first his eyes, then his fingertips, over the faded, gold lettering engraved in the worn, brown leather cover.

Next, he examined the strange design stamped into the spine. It appeared to be a stylized sun in the center of a circle. Some of the sun’s rays branched out at the ends, touching the perimeter of the outer circle. He traced over the design with one finger, muttering words of appeasement to defuse any enchantment that might lay dormant within.

Finally, holding the book at arm’s length, he took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut and opened it. When nothing alarming occurred, he re-opened first one eye, then the other; releasing his breath in a puff of relief that set his mustache aflutter. Drawing the book close he read the words, set in archaic type on the title page;
In which the Author relates such tales as told to him
by the descendants of Ancient Peoples
. Beneath that was the name,
Veronius Fustus
. Bartholeumous raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, yes—Veronius Fustus.
Erroneous
Veronius as he was known in some circles!” The Wizard glanced up at the globe creature and chuckled. “I am afraid his fellow Humans found his stories so outlandish, he was often accused of fabrication. Well then, let us see if he had anything to say about the mysterious
Earthbound
.”

He turned to the table of contents and ran his finger swiftly down the list, stopping to read aloud the fifth item. “The Reluctant Druid and the Dragon Rock— sounds promising.” He closed the book, tucking it somewhere within the folds of his robe.

Waving to the globe creature to precede him, he headed back to the center of the room. There, he settled comfortably into his chair, laying the book on the table in front of him. Another hidden pocket yielded a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles, strung on a purple ribbon. Settling these upon his nose, he proceeded to flip through the book, to the desired chapter.

Hearing the rustle of pages, Fancifoot (who loved a good story) came out of hiding. He perched, oversized ears and whiskers atwitch, at the table’s edge. Bartholeumous cleared his throat and began to read aloud in a deep, rich, voice.

The Reluctant Druid and the Dragon Rock

As told to me by Rufus Thatcher, direct descendant of Owen Thatcher, who claimed descendancy from Ancient Druidic Bards

Rufus Thatcher earned his living as his name proclaimed, by repairing the thatch of roofs. He was brought to my attention one evening, while I was holed up at the local inn, during the third day of a steady downpour of cold, miserable rain. I had let it be known that I was seeking stories of great antiquity, legends handed down for several generations, in an attempt to record the oral history of ancient peoples. On this night, I was sitting at a crude fireside table reading my notes, trying to draw warmth from the fire and a pot of strong tea, when I noticed several of the locals tugging and prodding one of their own to approach me. This worthy seemed somewhat the worse for drink, a state which did not distinguish him much from his companions, as the relentless rain had left the townsfolk with little else to do but sit indoors, swapping stories and drinking beer.