Bumblestook: Book 1, The Accidental Wizard (47 page)

Suddenly, the Skurrier let out a strangled squeal of terror, as first a shadow and then a tall, dark figure silently rounded the bend, behind the fallen child!

“What?” Farley asked, looking up at all of the Amorphae’s frightened faces. When he saw that even Fiona’s smooth countenance briefly entertained a startled look, he turned his head slowly, to look behind him.

His eyes traveled up the blood-red cloak and gown, to the most frightening face he had ever seen! Ghost-white hair clung to the figure’s elongated skull. Dark, bruised-purple hollows, beneath sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones, emphasized the lack of color in the pale skin. Red eyes glittered in their sockets, as they fastened upon his own with cold satisfaction.

Fiona and the Amorphae moved as one, rushing forward to grab Farley, but a single wave of the Wizard’s skeletal hand caused them all to fall to the ground, in ensorcelled slumber.

Desperately, Farley looked to Bartholeumous and Kondor Dal for help, but they were thoroughly engaged in fighting their opponents. He looked back once again, into the frightening face of the Wizard looming over him. Then, abandoning the backpack, he scrambled in a half-run, half-crawl toward his fallen companions.

Shaking their shoulders and shouting their names, he pleaded with them to wake up. They slumbered on, the Amorphae snoring loudly. Struggling to his feet, he whirled about to face the terrible figure alone.

“You-you get that spell off-a them right now, you-you—!” He sputtered, shaking his little plastic wand for good measure.

What passed for a smile, slowly made its way across the Wizard’s dreadful face, as he gazed down at the small boy, standing defiantly before him. The child’s hair stood up in wild, bushy, uncombed clumps and his face was smudged with streaks of mud. A cheap, shiny-black, polyester cloak hung crookedly about the small frame; clumsily secured by a lopsided knot of ribbon. And finally, clutched tightly in the boy’s hand, was the pathetic, plastic wand. Laughable, really, had he been such a one who was given to laughter.

He was not.

“Foolish Human,” he said in a cold, emotionless voice, advancing upon the child. As he spoke, he grew in size, his body filling the tunnel opening, cutting off the meager light. His pale, white face loomed in the gloom, like a malevolent man-in-the-moon. “Obviously, you do not know to whom you so carelessly speak. Whatever little power you possess, you will soon wield in my service, or you will watch your friends suffer.
I
am the one you will call Master!
I
am
Malador
the
Magnificent
!”

Farley was backed into a corner. There was nowhere to go. His friends lay helpless on the floor behind him. There was no one to defend them, except for him. He tightened his grip on the little wand. As his eyes hardened with determination, something flickered, lava-red, in their dark, chocolate-brown depths. He was tired of being told he was
only
Human! If ever there was a time to be a Wizard, it was now! In that moment, all of his doubts fled. He knew (with a certainty that coursed through his body, infusing him with energy) he
did
have Magic inside him—he
did
!

“Well, I’m
Farley Bumblestook
!” he shouted, as he stepped forward, thrusting forth the little wand with all of his might.

Unfortunately, he
accidentally
stepped right onto the Skurrier’s long, thick, rope of a tail, lost his balance and fell backwards!

Oddly, as he fell, a lightning-like streak of lava-red light lanced upward, from the tip of the little plastic wand! It struck the ceiling above Malador, causing a shower of tiny rock fragments to rain down upon the Wizard’s head!

Farley looked up, to see Malador hesitate, ruby eyes narrowing to slits, his concentration momentarily weakened. Behind Farley, the others stirred and began to awaken.

Suddenly, the light flickered and a rush of air lifted everyone’s hair, as an avalanche of water rushed into the tunnel with a thunderous roar! Farley had
accidentally
activated the Key and opened the Doorway!

The wave hit hard, knocking Bartholeumous, Kondor Dal and their opponents off their feet, before slamming into the others. The shock of the water took Malador completely by surprise. Shrinking down to his normal size, he quickly diverted his attention to creating a Field of Force about himself.

Fiona and the Amorphae, released from the spell, awoke to find themselves being tossed about in a rush of water! Coughing and sputtering, they instinctively struggled to keep their heads up, as the wave carried them all back down the tunnel.

Farley grabbed a mouthful of air, as he sank down, battered about by the water’s force. His eyes were big and round as he flailed away, frantically trying to reach the surface, his limbs gravely hampered by the long magician’s cloak. Suddenly, he saw a familiar figure flash by, green and silver scaled—a Vish! Then, another familiar form rose before his face—Osheanna, nearly invisible against the rushing water of the lake. A bubble emerged from her featureless face, growing larger and larger until it engulfed Farley completely. Falling safely to the floor of the bubble, he exhaled in relief. Then, he watched anxiously as Vish streaked through the water to help his friends; hoisting them to the surface, until Osheanna had created bubbles for all.

Malador and his minions had been left to fend for themselves. Although they had all managed to create individual Fields, they were otherwise unable to determine their own direction. Malador watched in cold fury as the force of the water, clearly under Osheanna’s command, increased the distance between himself and his prey. He lost sight of them, as he was washed down a separate tunnel, like just so much flotsam and jetsam.

Malador knew that all of the lower levels of his mountain fortress would soon be flooded. Eventually, as the water reached the level of the lake’s surface, it would cease to rise; at which point, he could retreat to his throne room, located well above sea level. By then, his prisoners would have escaped; taking with them the knowledge of his fortress home, no longer hidden and invincible. He would have to salvage what he could, and evacuate his mountain stronghold.

Only the glittering, ruby-red eyes, revealed the malevolent thoughts of revenge; writhing like a nest of vipers, beneath the cold, still, death-mask of a face. One word escaped his lips in a hiss, giving vent to his rage.

“Bumblestook!”

Osheanna, Shepherd of the Seas, flushed Malador and his minions down one tunnel branch, while carrying the members of the Quest down another.

Safe in his bubble, Farley watched as the two groups diverged and Malador’s menacing figure disappeared, in a rush of debris-filled water. Then, as the broken leg of a familiar dining room chair floated by (turning end-over-end, in a swirl of magically-enlarged flakes of Snowglobe Snow) he twisted about, searching frantically for any sign of his parents.

Suddenly, a Vish dove into his bubble, landing easily upon its translucent floor.

“Mubglub!” The boy called out, recognizing the fish-like Amorphae.

The Vish performed his funny little bow, then sank effortlessly to sit across from him.

“You seek your parents,” Mubglub said. “You need not worry. The others walked them across the lake bottom and returned them safely to dry land. We take you to them now.”

Farley sighed with relief. “Thanks, Mubglub.”

The bubble lurched downward. Farley recognized the vertical tunnel by the odd, starfish creatures clinging to its walls. Sometime later, when his chariot popped out of the bottom of the tunnel, he saw all of his friends, traveling nearby.

There were Tom and Yap, in a bubble together. The Bungaree’s eyes were wide as saucers, his long tail curling and uncurling nervously above his head. His arms were crossed tightly, in an attempt to keep his sharp talons well away from the bubble’s skin. Yap bounced about, tail enthusiastically a-wag. His eyes were bright, darting back and forth, following the movements of the creatures of the lake. The Skurrier crouched alone in his bubble, stroking his tail and muttering to himself. Fiona’s bubble paced Farley’s. Quickly glancing about, to confirm everyone was accounted for, she sank down gracefully; sitting Indian style, face composed, eyes straight ahead. Bartholeumous the Bold and Kondor Dal each sat within their own bubbles, keeping a watchful eye on all. Osheanna’s clear form swam round and round the entire group, while a score of Vish streaked here and there; occasionally nudging the bubbles along a predetermined path.

Soon, they floated over the Snowglobe. Everyone could clearly see the devastation wrought by the incoming water. The round, oak table had lost its gay wrap. It lay upended, it’s single, pedestal leg (with the four, carved claw-feet) thrusting stiffly upward, like some great, slain beast. The chairs lay scattered about in various states of non-assembly, no longer suitable for sitting. Even the heavy, oak buffet stood on one end, its side door (which never would stay shut) waving lazily to and fro. Large, sparkling flakes of Snowglobe Snow whirled and swirled all about; dancing endlessly in the underwater currents.

Farley shivered as he stared down at what had been, for a time, his parent’s prison. He was glad when it finally faded from sight.

Soon after, the bubble caravan began to rise. Farley watched, as the water above his head became lighter and lighter in color. At last, with a sudden jolt, his bubble broke the water’s surface. For a moment it wobbled and spun, filling his vision with a dizzying panorama of sky and trees, before settling with a gentle rocking motion. Now, he could see the shoreline ahead. His heart beat rapidly and he rose to his knees; pressing the flat of his hands against the side of the bubble, willing it to move faster.

He could clearly make out several distinct figures on the shore. Two of them, pajama-clad, sat propped up against the large, flat rock (upon which, he had sat before embarking on his underwater journey). A lump rose in his throat and his eyes misted over. He blinked rapidly to clear them, so that he could have an unimpeded view of his parents, as he approached the shore.

Then, he noticed the mountain lion, lazily stretched out across the rock’s length, its long tail dangling over the edge; watching him approach with apparent disinterest. As it yawned widely, he could see the white flash of its sharp teeth against the rosy-pink backdrop of its gullet. Farley had to remind himself that it was an Amorphae and an ally.

Bartholeumous and Kondor’s bubbles touched shore first, bursting in a fine mist, to deposit them on the bank. The two Wizards stepped forward to greet Garamond the Grand. Farley landed next. He fell forward as his bubble popped, releasing him on the shore.

“Mom! Dad!” he called out, picking himself up and rushing forward in a stumbling run; forgetful of the mountain lion in his eagerness to reach them. He threw himself into their laps, arms spread wide to hug them both, expecting to be engulfed by their arms as well. When this didn’t occur, he pulled back, confused. Only then, he noticed that their eyes, while open, stared blankly without focus.

“Don’t fr-r-r-et, little Human” a low husky voice purred in his ear. “They are merely sleeping. Soon, one of your Wizard friends will awaken them.”

Farley looked up, right into the face of the mountain lion! Its long-lashed, golden eyes and slightly curved lips (lightly closed, allowing a glimpse of sharp teeth) were mere inches from his nose. His eyes widened and he swallowed hard as he rose, but he did not look away from that powerful gaze.

“Inter-r-r-resting. You show courage, for a puny two-legged one. Heloise, at your service, young Bumblestook—at least, for
today
.”

“Thank you, Miss Heloise. I heard you helped rescue my mom and dad. That was awfully nice of you,” Farley said politely.

“Yes, I suppose it was.” She smiled a long, slow smile, revealing the full battery of sharp weapons at her disposal. Stretching out a powerful paw, she lifted the boy’s chin with one curved talon, gazing directly into his eyes.

Farley stared back, unflinching, more curious than fearful. After a moment, the Leonin blinked once, slowly.

“Human, yes, but per-r-r-haps something more. Time will tell,” she mused, withdrawing her paw. Her eyes flicked away, over his shoulder. “Well, it’s been interesting, but it’s time for me move along. Fare-thee-well, Human. Look me up, next time you’re in my neighborhood.” In one fluid movement she leapt from the rock, swiftly disappearing into the forest in a flash of tawny fur.

“I suppose
that
was the mysterious Heloise,” said Fiona, approaching.

“Yup,” Farley said.

“She left awfully fast.”

“I don’t think she likes crowds.”

“Leonin tend to be loners,” Bartholeumous said, as he and the others joined them. “I am surprised she stuck around as long as she did.”

“Probably wanted to see what all the fuss is about,” Ranger Gary remarked, with a jerk of his bushy chin toward the boy. “You know that old saying about felines and curiosity…”