Kendra Kandlestar and the Door to Unger (3 page)

KENDRA COULD SEE that her uncle was quite out of breath by the time they reached the top of the Elder Stone. However, he did not even pause to collect himself before rapping on the small wooden door that belonged to Winter Woodsong.

After a moment they were greeted by a weak, quiet voice that said, “Enter, old friend.”

Kendra cast a startled look at her uncle. How could Elder Woodsong know who they were? But the old wizard merely grunted and opened the door to enter a small, round room.

Kendra cast her eyes around the chamber in awe. If her own house was a collection of odd furniture and strange items (she lived with a wizard, after all), then Elder Woodsong’s home was even more so. Everywhere she looked, there was something interesting to see: kettles and cauldrons, goblets and caskets, wooden chests under lock and key, and tattered parchments and papers. In one corner of the room, there stood a tall cuckoo clock, which chimed almost immediately upon their arrival. Much to Kendra’s delight, the clock featured not a cuckoo, but a small wooden Goojun that banged a tiny toy club as he traveled his short mechanical path. In another corner, there was a large metallic globe with long rods jutting out at different angles. Each rod was capped with a small glowing light, and it seemed to Kendra that the strange device was somehow a map of the stars and planets. There were also many books scattered about the chamber. Many of these were stacked in tall piles, while others were lying open to reveal strange figures and symbols that Kendra could not begin to decipher.

Then her gaze fell upon the old sorceress herself. Winter was lying on a small cot in the corner of the room, the blankets pulled tight about her frail body. Her hair was white and tangled, and wrinkles crisscrossed her pale, drawn face.

“Elder Woodsong,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, immediately going to her. “How fare you?

“I’m stronger than some would say,” Winter said. She tried to sit up in her bed, but immediately broke into a sharp, hacking cough.

“Now, now,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, gently taking her hand. “Just rest. We shan’t stay long.”

“Oh, no need to leave so quickly,” Winter said. “The company is welcome.”

“We brought you some flowers, Elder Woodsong,” Kendra said.

“Ah, thank you,” the old woman said, taking the bouquet and placing them in a vase by her bed. “Fireflowers are my favorite; their fragrance is divine. Did you know they grow only here, in the land of Een?”

“No,” Kendra said shyly, suddenly timid in the presence of the great sorceress.

“Well, no matter,” Winter said. “Take a seat, child. Sit, sit.”

There was hardly a chair to be found, for each seemed to be stacked with books. After giving her braids a nervous tug, Kendra discovered a small empty stool near Winter’s bed. She was now met with some surprise, however; for as soon as she seated herself, the stool seemed to shoot up, so that Kendra found herself sitting high up in the air.

“It’s a bothersome seat, that one,” Winter remarked with some amusement. “It has a mind of its own.”

“Oh!” Kendra exclaimed, her feet dangling in the air.

“Down, seat, down!” Winter ordered, and the stool instantly returned to its former height. “Sorry, child,” Winter murmured. “I suppose such are the hazards of visiting a sorceress!”

Uncle Griffinskitch glared at Kendra (as if
she
were somehow responsible for the mischievous seat) then turned to Winter and said, “What’s this I hear about Burdock forcing you to step down?”

“Burdock hungers for power,” Winter sighed. “That much is clear to me now. He would be emperor, I think, if Eens were to tolerate such nonsense.”

“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered. “I won’t let Burdock get away with this.”

“Shun your anger, old friend,” Winter said. “Burdock has already achieved his purpose. Myself, I am too old now to oppose him.”

“He has declared it illegal for animals to enter the Elder Stone,” Uncle Griffinskitch declared. “He’s fired Captain Jinx and Honest Oki.”

Winter sighed and closed her eyes, and to Kendra, it appeared as if she looked incredibly tired. “This is most unfortunate,” Winter murmured after a moment. “Burdock’s heart has grown dark.”

“I’m going to take you home with me,” Uncle Griffinskitch announced. “Kendra and I will tend to you.”

“No,” Winter said, opening her eyes wide at the wizard. “This is my home, and I shall stay here. Do I seem so weak to your young eyes?”

Kendra smiled in spite of herself; she had never known anyone to refer to her uncle as young.

“Besides, you don’t look so well yourself,” Winter told the wizard. “Why, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just may have,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered gravely.

“Hmmm?” Winter asked, pushing herself up in her bed.

Uncle Griffinskitch stroked his long white beard and began to tell the old sorceress about the visit from the Unger. He went through the story slowly, careful to not leave out any details.

Winter Woodsong listened patiently. “This is most curious, most curious indeed,” she murmured when he was done.

“Have you ever heard of this Door to Unger?” Uncle Griffinskitch asked.

“No,” Winter replied. “I have seen no reference to it in any of the ancient texts. As far as I know, there is no land of Unger. So how could there be a door to it?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “Perhaps it’s just a fable.”

“Perhaps,” Winter said. “But I don’t think so. Many things lie out there, beyond the magic curtain, of which we Eens are ignorant. And, from what you say, this Unger gave his life to tell you of the door.”

Kendra had managed to keep quiet up to this point, but now her anxiety got the better of her. “But how could an Unger get through the magic curtain?” she blurted.

“Some strange magic, for sure,” Winter said. “But I do not think he truly crossed the curtain. I think he transported himself to the exact spot outside of your house. Then, just as he died, he transported himself away. He must have been a wizard.”

“An Unger wizard?” Uncle Griffinskitch scoffed. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“And you have heard of everything, have you?” Winter scolded, but the effort of raising her voice caused her to break into a fitful cough again.

Kendra turned red with embarrassment for her uncle; very few dared to speak to him in such a manner.

“Of course, we have another clue,” Winter said. “You say the Unger mentioned a place called the Greeven Wastes?”

“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “I suppose you think this has something to do with the Wizard Greeve?”

“Don’t you?” Winter asked.

“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered; and it was a peculiar humph, one Kendra couldn’t quite decipher.

“Who’s the Wizard Greeve?” Kendra asked.

“He was a first Elder of Een,” Winter replied gravely. “Here, pass me that book, child, and I will show you the tale.”

THERE WERE MANY BOOKS scattered about, but Kendra immediately guessed the one Winter wanted, for it was old and tattered, and had a mysterious quality about it. She passed it to the sorceress.

“Few know of the legend,” Winter explained, opening the book on her lap. “The Elders don’t really like to speak of it. Indeed, there’s only one other copy of this book; your uncle has that one. Now where’s the place . . . ah, yes. Here it is. Read this, child.”

She handed the book back to Kendra, just as her stool sprouted upwards again.

“Down seat, down I say!” Winter cried.

With this admonishment, the stool slowly lowered; Kendra could have sworn that she heard it sigh.

“I’ll really have to get that fixed,” Winter said apologetically. “But that’s for another day. Read the legend, Kendra. It starts at the top of page 251.”

Kendra wriggled firm in her seat (to brace herself against any further mischief on the stool’s part) and then read the following words:

In the Days of Een, when all were one, goodness flourished in the lands and the race of Eens knew only happiness. In those ancient times, there came to be the first council of Elders. Upon seven seats in the Elder Stone sat seven Elders, and they were all brothers. For many seasons, these first Elders guided the Eens wisely; but one brother, the Wizard Greeve, came to know envy and hatred. He desired to lord power over his brethren and so he used his dark arts to plot against them.

But one of the brothers, the Elder Longbraids, discovered the treachery of the wizard Greeve. And so it came to pass that six brothers turned against one; and they banished Greeve from the lands of Een.

To the north did the dark wizard journey, to the verdant plains, rushing rivers, and lush forests did he carry his wickedness. And there did he construct a temple, a deep underground maze that served as a terrible monument to his fiendish heart; and in that place the plants withered, the rivers shrank, and the great trees fell. That place became a wasteland and there, in that jumble of rock and ruin, did the heart of the wizard Greeve swell with hunger for revenge against his brothers.

And so it came to pass that the Wizard Greeve devised a plot to triumph over the remaining Elders of Een. Each of them did he vanquish with his dark arts, each of them knew his dark heart—save for one. The lone survivor, the Elder Longbraids, fled to Een, his beloved land, his heart afflicted by his brother’s deed. And now did Elder Longbraids seal off the land of Een by the spell of the magic curtain, a great barrier he did create so that the land might be protected from the hideous monsters that came to skitter or crawl or slither across the wide earth. The wizard Greeve, his heart was not soothed after exacting revenge upon his brothers. His hatred remains yet, in that wretched place, and all who trespass there come to know the curse of Greeve . . .

As she finished, Kendra gave her braids a long tug, thinking deeply. “So this place—where the wizard Greeve went to live—this could be the same place that the Unger called the Greeven Wastes,” she said presently.

“It would appear so,” Winter said.

“I still don’t know what all of this has to do with the Door to Unger,” Kendra mused.

“As the legend says, the Wizard Greeve constructed a maze in the wastelands,” Winter explained. “Perhaps the door leads to the maze. All we seem to know from your Unger visitor is that the door is located in the Greeven Wastes and that it opens but once a year.”

“But there’s something strange about this legend,” Kendra remarked. “It seems as if something’s missing.”

“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered rather testily. “There are some who believe there is more to the legend, that part of it has been lost through the ages.”

“Do we know what became of the Wizard Greeve?” Kendra asked. “Do we know what his curse is?”

Winter smiled weakly at her then turned to Uncle Griffinskitch. “Old friend,” she said, “do me a favor and go to my study. You’ll find a book there called
Spells of the Ancients
. I would look at it.”

Uncle Griffinskitch nodded and said, “Come, Kendra.”

“No, let the child stay with me,” Winter said.

“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch mumbled, which Kendra knew was his way of saying, “Very well.”

“No one knows the nature of Greeve’s curse,” Winter told Kendra once the old man had left. “But I can tell you one thing, child: the curse was something that was of great interest to your mother.”

“Really?” Kendra asked excitedly. “Why?”

“She felt the Legend of Greeve was somehow important to Eens, here and now in the present,” Winter explained. “But her interest upset the Elders, even her brother—your Uncle Griffinskitch. The two argued about it endlessly. Your uncle called her interest in the legend an obsession.” The old sorceress paused for a moment. Then she said, “It’s my belief, Kendra, that your mother left Een to try and find the Greeven Wastes, all those years ago.”

“Oroook said he knew my mother,” Kendra said.

“Perhaps he did,” Winter said. “If the Ungers took your family, then Oroook certainly had the chance to meet her. I can tell you this, child: if you go in search of the Door to Unger, you may well be following in the footsteps of your family.”

“Then I must go in search of it,” Kendra said. “Don’t you think, Elder Woodsong?”

A faint smile played across Winter’s face again and she closed her eyes, as if deep in thought. For several minutes she said nothing, and Kendra sat in silent discomfort, wondering whether the old woman had fallen asleep. After what seemed like an eternity to Kendra, Winter raised one of her frail hands and pointed to a large panel of artwork that was carved into the stone wall right above her tiny bed. The carving looked very old. It had once been painted, but most of the color had chipped or faded away.

“An interesting picture, isn’t it?” Winter asked, looking at Kendra. “Tell me, child, what do you see?”

Kendra had no idea what the scene had to do with the Wizard Greeve, or with finding her mother. But that seemed Winter’s way, to always speak in riddles, so Kendra turned her attention to the stone carving. In it she could see tiny Een people (she could tell them by their braided hair) mixed in between giant monsters: there were Ungers, Goojuns, Izzards, Orrids, and Krakes. To Kendra, it looked like some of the figures were holding staffs, or maybe spears.

“I see monsters and Eens,” Kendra replied after a moment. “It looks like there is a great battle between the two sides.”

“Hmmm,” Winter murmured mysteriously. “It is a most curious picture. Of all the carvings to be found on the Elder Stone—inside or out—this one is the oldest.”

Just then Uncle Griffinskitch reappeared. “I could not find your book,” the old wizard said. “Are you sure it was last in your study?”

“Oh, dear,” Winter said, reaching beneath her pillow to reveal a small black book. “It would appear that I had it with me all along. Sorry to send you on such an errant mission, old friend. In any case, I suppose I don’t need to look at the book at all now.”

“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered and Kendra could not help to notice a mischievous twinkle in Winter’s clear blue eyes.

“Kendra and I were just discussing the Door to Unger,” the old sorceress said. “It seems to me that you should leave as soon as possible if you hope to find it before the first summer moon.”

“And who has decided we are going?” Uncle Griffinskitch asked hotly.

“But we have to!” Kendra cried. “This could be our only chance to find our family, Uncle Griffinskitch.”

“As far as we know, the Ungers could be trying to lure us into a trap,” the old wizard grumbled.

“Anything is possible,” Winter said. “But I think it’s a chance you’ll have to take. For many years, the disappearance of your family has been a mystery. Finally, a crack of light is showing through a door that has otherwise been closed. Follow that light, old friend, follow it.”

Uncle Griffinskitch stroked his long beard, deep in thought. “Humph,” he muttered after a moment. “On your advice, we shall go in search of this door. May the ancients help us in such a quest!”

They bid the old woman farewell, and made their way down the stairways of the Elder Stone. Kendra’s mind was racing. Everything was happening so quickly. Elder Woodsong was gravely ill, Burdock Brown had made himself leader of the council, and somehow they had to find a mysterious door in a fabled wasteland, which could be anywhere in the outside world. On top of that, they had only a few weeks in which to do it.

Things couldn’t get much more complicated,
Kendra thought to herself.

But, as she was to soon find out, she couldn’t have been more wrong.