Bumblestook: Book 1, The Accidental Wizard (45 page)

Everything seemed in order. What was it, then? Why did he have this sense of unease? Suddenly, he realized he no longer heard the keening of the Spirits, trapped in the Pit of Despair. The voiceless cries of scores of trapped souls (desperately eager to escape into slavery) was like a soothing symphony that played continuously in the background of his mind. Now, it was missing.

Malador rose abruptly, like a violent volcanic eruption. He flowed swiftly down the steps of the dais and across the floor, to a slab of highly polished ebony, set flush into a wall. A wave of his hand brought it to life, as thin, glowing, green lines sprang up on the surface. It was a map of the tunnels and caverns that comprised his mountain retreat.

Another wave of his hand caused small blips of red light to appear, each one representing the movements of one of his minions; the wristbands each wore, effectively reporting their positions. Most were where he expected them to be, but
one
—his eyes glittered—one was moving across the cavern, containing the Pit of Despair!

None had been assigned there, for neither Wizard, nor Hero, nor Amorphae could be found, who could withstand the cries of the creatures in the Pit, at such close proximity. The Spirits, trapped within, were their own deterrent to trespassers. How then, could one of his “men” be crossing so near to the Pit, even as he watched? And why did the Spirits not cry out, sensing (as they always did) when something truly alive came near?

He closed his eyes, to access the ruby, set into the wristband of the one who dared venture into forbidden territory. Several heartbeats later, his eyes opened, glittering dangerously. He had seen nothing but a darkness even
he
could not penetrate!

Closing his eyes again, he sent out a Silent Summons to one of his slaves, a Shadow Being that dwelled in the vicinity of the Pit. Malador’s reasons for consigning it to that sector were twofold. Being born of the Pit, it could better withstand the cries from within, while those very same cries served as a constant reminder of its fate, should it ever betray him.

Seconds later his eyes snapped open, glaring balefully. The Shadow had failed to respond! It was unthinkable that the wretched creature had the will to disobey his Summoning—and yet, somehow, it had! Something had gone very,
very
wrong.

Malador’s whiter-than-white skin paled even further, causing the bruised-purple shadows beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks to deepen in contrast. His ghost-white hair rose to frame his cadaverous face in a frightful halo. Someone was going to pay for this. The question was—
who
?

Once more his thin, pale lids closed over eyes that blazed red with anger. Dark purple veins sprang up, throbbing at his temples, as he fought to control and focus his rising ire, in yet another Summoning. This one was directed at a slave that had absolutely no will of its own and could not possibly disobey his call—the Golem.

Moments passed. This time, when the Wizard opened his eyes he raised his lids slowly, staring down the hallway with dark purpose. Incredibly, the Golem had
not
responded; but for an instant, Malador had been able to look through the pits (fashioned for eyes) before someone, or some
thing
, denied him access.

In that split second of sight, he had found himself staring directly into the face of that miserable Human boy, Farley Bumblestook!

“Did you see that?” Fiona asked Farley, who stood holding Chip against the Golem’s rough stone chest.

“What?”

“The red lights in its eyes came back on,” she said.

Farley, who had been concentrating on Chip while awaiting Big Grey’s response, looked up. “I don’t see anything.”

“They’re gone now. They only lit up for a second.”

“What d’ya think it means?” Farley asked, a trace of worry in his voice.

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling it’s nothing good,” Fiona said. “We should hurry up and get what we came for and get out of here.”

“I’m with you on that! This thing gives me the creeps. It was weird the way it stopped when I touched it. Why d’ya think it did that?”

Yap tugged on Farley’s shirt. “Maybe it wuz your majikal powers, Farley!”

Tom snorted. “Puh-leeez! Pardon me, if I scoff! More likely, that was the moment the spell wore off!”

As it turned out, the little Gr-r-r-og was closer to the truth.

********************************

Kondor Dal looked at the small circlet of white gold, lying in his open palm. With a deep sigh, he pocketed his wife’s betrothal ring. Both Wizards then turned to the rock wall to retrieve their staffs. Suddenly, they heard a scrabbling sound from the cavern behind them. Whirling about, they saw a robed figure, fast approaching. Grabbing their staffs, they held them high to throw light upon the intruder.

“N-n-n-no harm! I mean no harm!” Niblix cried out, skidding to a halt and throwing up an arm in self defense.

“Come no further!” Bartholeumous commanded. “We will be the judge of your intentions!” He looked closer at the cowering figure. “Bee’s knees! You are rather
large
for a Skurrier, are you not?”

“In-d-d-deedy-yes, much to my distress!” Niblix replied sorrowfully. “A victim, good s-s-sirs, of a terrible spell called a Sizing.”

“Did you not agree to such?” Bartholeumous asked.

“I d-d-did, good sirs, a foolish choice and one I m-m-m-most surely every-day regret!”

“You had better tell us the full story, then, but be warned! We have a very keen Sense of Truth,” Bartholeumous said, lowering his bushy brows to glare at the creature.

So, Niblix told his sad tale, ending with his decision to leave Malador’s employ, to seek out a Wizard with the power to reverse the Sizing spell.

“And th-th-th-then, I saw what
you
d-d-d-did to the wall around the Pit of Despair,” he said, round, dark eyes shining with hope as he addressed Kondor Dal. “I was-s-s-s so hoping, good sir, that you could d-d-do the same for me!”

Kondor did not reply immediately, but scrutinized him closely, his cold expression causing the Skurrier to squirm and anxiously wring his hands.

“It seems to me that you bear some responsibility in this matter,” the Wizard finally said. “It was your own greed which led you down this path.”

“T-t-t-tis true, tis true, but what was I to d-d-d-d-do? He’d kill me, he would, if I did not do what he wanted me t-t-t-to!”

“All the same, you have behaved selfishly, yet you ask of me a great favor, to be given freely.”

“Oh n-n-n-no, indeedy-no, not! I have treasure, lots and lots, tucked away in my own little hidey-holes. I’ll share it, true—even go halfsies with you—if only you’d make me s-s-s-small again!”

“I have no use for your treasure,” Kondor replied coldly, causing the Skurrier’s eager face to fall. “Wait here. My colleague and I will discuss your fate.”

He and Bartholeumous walked out of earshot while Niblix waited, anxiously stroking the end of his long mouse-tail, round little mouse-ears swiveling back and forth in an effort to hear them.

“His name is Niblix and, so far, he tells the truth. Malador uses subterfuge to gather others to his cause. Who would know better than I,” Kondor said with a grimace.

“He does not seem to recognize you. Were you not in the Bumblestook house together?” Bartholeumous asked.

“I kept my face covered at all times,” Kondor replied. “It was a condition of my employment.”

“Ah, that was clever. We can use his guilt to our advantage. He is weak-minded, to be sure, but his desire for a re-Sizing is a powerful incentive. Let us find out what he knows of the children and if he knows where Malador has hidden the Bumblestooks. With the promise of your counter-spell, we can get him to take us to them,” Bartholeumous said.

Kondor nodded and the two turned back to the Skurrier, who let out a nervous squeak when he saw their stern faces.

“In kidnapping the Bumblestooks, you have participated in a harmful act against Humans, which is forbidden by the laws of The People,” Kondor began.

Niblix hung his head in shame and his shoulders slumped, despondently.

“But, perhaps there is a way you can redeem yourself…”

The Skurrier’s head came back up, hope shining forth from his eyes like twin lighthouse beacons.

“Anything! I’ll d-d-d-do anything!”

“We desire only two things. First, information. We are looking for a boy, a Human-child, son of the kidnapped Bumblestooks and a girl, a child of The People. Have you seen them?” Kondor asked.

“N-n-n-no, good sirs, I have seen neither hide nor hair, of this-s-s-s boy and girl.”

“But surely you must have heard about them,” Bartholeumous insisted.

“N-n-n-not the girl, no, but the boy, yes. Malador fashioned a Golem, he d-d-d-did, in the likeness of this Humanchild. He plucked the b-b-b-boy’s image from his mother’s memories. S-s-s-so cruel, is he, to use a mother’s love against her s-s-s-son that way!” The Skurrier blinked rapidly, tearing up at the memory of his own dear, sweet Mum, who always had his best interests at heart.

“For what purpose would he do this?” Bartholeumous persisted.

“He believes the b-b-b-boy may have magical powers. He uses the Golem to pry the boy’s s-s-s-secrets from his parents.”

Bartholeumous turned to Kondor. “It makes sense. No doubt Malador plans to use Farley’s parents to force the boy to work for him. However, given the nature of what I suspect Bumblestook’s powers to be, that could be a serious mistake.”

Kondor nodded and looked back at the Skurrier, who stood nervously shuffling from foot to foot.

“You have fulfilled our first demand. Now, for the second. Take us to the Bumblestooks.” Kondor’s tone left no room for bargaining.

The Skurrier flinched. “B-b-b-but—”

“You
do
know where they are being held, do you not?” Bartholeumous pressed.

“Y-y-y-yes, but M-m-m-malador—”

“Let
us
worry about Malador,” Kondor told him. “Take us to the Humans and I will release you from the Sizing.”

The Skurrier’s entire body quivered and his tail swept the floor back-and-forth behind him.. “I’ll d-d-d-do it! It will be dangerous, yes-indeedy it will, but I will do it! And then you will make me s-s-s-small again?”

“Take us to the Bumblestooks and I will make you small again,” Kondor promised solemnly.

“We should g-g-g-go now! Malador has not yet discovered me m-m-missing!” The Skurrier said, turning quickly to head back across the cavern floor.

In this, however, he was quite mistaken.

*********************************

Farley’s face lit up suddenly. “It’s him! It’s Big Grey! Big Grey, how are you?” He paused to listen to his Earthbound friend’s reply. Then, “Me too, I’m okay too!”

The others listened curiously, to the strange, one-sided conversation.

“Big Grey, I need your help and there’s not much time! There’s this Golem thing, see? It’s made outta rock so I know I can talk to it, but it’s
way
too slow. I need you to ask it something for me—can you do that? Great! Ask it to tell me about the Key. It’s not a real key though, it’s like a password.”

Another pause while everyone waited. Yap whined. Tom’s whiskers twitched. One of Fiona’s eyebrows inched upwards in a delicate arch. Only Farley, with patience born of long familiarity with the Earthbound, stared at the statue unwaveringly. Then, a look of surprise came over his face, and his mouth fell open.

“What is it, Farley? Did it tell you the Key?” Fiona asked.

Farley gave her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, it’s
me
. I mean, it’s my name. My name’s the key!”

“Farleybumblestook?
That’s
the magic word? How absurd!” Tom sputtered.

Farley shrugged self-consciously.

“Well what are we waiting for? Tom and Yap, since you guys know where the Doorway is, lead the way!” Fiona commanded.

“So long, Mr. Golem!” Farley (ever-polite, even to the non-living) shouted over his shoulder as he and his friends took off down the tunnel.

The Golem did not answer, but its eye sockets flickered briefly, with ruby-red light.

********************************

If we could lift up the top of Malador’s Mountain, like lifting the lid of a cookie jar, we would get a cut-away view of the tunnels within. We could watch, as three separate groups, in their three separate tunnels, hurried toward a single destination. We might let out a mighty cheer to see that Farley’s group, having started out first, was slightly ahead. Approaching from a different direction, Bartholeumous, Kondor Dal and Niblix were not far behind. Our hearts might leap at the thought that, soon, they would all be together. Then again, our hearts might falter, to see that Malador (accompanied by two renegade Wizards) was headed down yet a third tunnel, which would, eventually, converge with the others.

Of course, as it’s not
actually
possible to lift up the top of a mountain, like lifting the lid of a cookie jar, we will have to rely on other means of following their progress.

********************************

“It’s just around the bend, at the tunnel’s end. When you approach the door, look out for the wet floor!” Tom called out over his shoulder, dashing around a turn in the corridor.

As the rest of them turned the corner, Farley immediately slipped on the slimy surface. He slid several feet on his rear end and spun about, before ramming into the rock wall at the tunnel’s end.

“It’s alright! I’m okay!” the boy said cheerfully. He struggled to his feet, wiping his muddy hands on his jeans, while the others gathered round.

“Why is it so wet?” Fiona asked, eyeing the muddy floor with distaste.

“Cuz the Door opened up inside-a the dome, an’ a whole buncha water came whooshing in,” Yap said, demonstrating the exciting wave action with his arms.

“The dome is actually one of Farley’s mom’s snowglobes, made big by magic,” Fiona explained. “It was perfectly dry in there when
we
saw it.”

“That wuz b’fore Ranger Gary put a
hole
in it,” the pup replied.