Kendra Kandlestar and the Door to Unger (9 page)

AFTER DINNER, something continued to tug at Kendra’s mind. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew something was terribly amiss in the land of Umbor. How to describe the feeling? It was like having an itch in the very center of your back that you just want to give a good scratch, but no matter how far you stretch, you just can’t reach it. And so it was with Kendra now.

She tried to speak with her uncle about it on the way back to the guest chamber, but the old wizard had grown so tired that it was all he could do to crawl into his bed and erupt into loud snores. Jinx and Professor Bumblebean had soon followed suit, and now only Kendra, Ratchet, and Oki were awake.

“I guess there’s nothing like a good meal to put you to sleep,” Oki observed. “Unfortunately, we didn’t eat a thing!”

“Yeah, I guess it’s more Een cake for us,” Ratchet said, digging into his pack and handing out a handful of the dry (and now quite stale) foodstuff to his friends.

“Hmm,” Kendra murmured, with a long, thoughtful tug on her braids.

“That was almost an old Griffinskitch ‘humph,’” Ratchet said. “What’s needling you, Kendra?”

“It’s Pugglemud,” Kendra replied, chewing absent-mindedly on her dinner. “He’s up to something.”

“Of course he is,” Ratchet said. “I don’t know what though.”

“Whatever it is, you can be sure it involves gold,” Oki said, adding a “tee hee” for good measure.

“I’m going to do some exploring,” Kendra announced suddenly. “Maybe I can find out something.”

“Well, we’re coming with you, then,” Ratchet said. “All we need is a disguise.”

“Why?” Kendra asked.

“You can’t go poking around without a disguise,” Ratchet said. “We don’t want those Dwarves to see what we’re up to.”

“That’s true,” Kendra said. “Good idea.”

They searched about the chamber for some costumes, doing their best to keep quiet and to not wake Uncle Griffinskitch and the others (though they seemed so deeply asleep that Kendra didn’t think an earthquake would wake them). There was a tall gold-plated wardrobe in the corner of the room, and here, they found a long robe that Ratchet declared would fit their need perfectly. Then Oki sat on Kendra’s shoulders, and Kendra sat on Ratchet’s, and together, the three of them were the same height of a normal Dwarf. The robe covered them all quite nicely, and Oki pulled it tight around his head to disguise his whiskery face and to make it look as if he were wearing a hood.

“Well, here we go,” Ratchet said, as he quietly opened the door and shuffled out of the room. “Kendra, just keep your foot off of my nose!”

“If we meet any Dwarves, you’ll have to do the talking,” Kendra told the raccoon. “You have the deepest voice and will sound the most like one of those rascals.”

“Are you calling me a rascal?” Ratchet asked as they moved down the hallway, toward the center of the palace.

“You’ve been called worse,” Kendra said, but before the raccoon could muster a retort, they turned the corner and encountered a Dwarf coming down the passage.

“Ornelius, you scoundrel!” the Dwarf exclaimed.

“What? Who?” Ratchet cried in surprise.

“It’s me, Fiddlewick,” the Dwarf said. “Why you actin’ so strange, Ornelius? And where you been at? We got guard duty down in the pens. And what’s more, King Reginaldo wants us to be gettin’ them new cages ready down there.”

“Why, I reckon I’m right here, don’t ya know,” Ratchet replied, now trying to use his best Dwarf voice. “Can’t a feller dip in a bit o’ ale, don’t ya know? What’s the anyhoo of it any how, don’t ya know?”

“Don’t overdo it,” Kendra whispered, kicking the raccoon.

“Ouch!” Ratchet cried.

“Eh?” Fiddlewick asked.

“Eek!” Oki cried.

“Eh?” Fiddlewick asked again. “Jus’ what’s wrong with ya, Ornelius?”

“Nothen’,” Ratchet said quickly.

“Come on,” Kendra whispered to the raccoon. “Go with him so we can see what these pens are about.”

“All right, all right,” Ratchet declared. “Let’s get a goin’ then, don’t ya know.”

Fiddlewick turned and Ratchet staggered after him; Kendra knew that the raccoon was strong, but she guessed that he was starting to feel her and Oki’s weight.

They wound their way through the maze of passages in the palace, traveling ever-downward. They were going even lower than where the guest chambers were, and Kendra started to shiver, though she couldn’t tell if it was from a growing coldness or just from her nerves.

Thankfully, Fiddlewick didn’t bother to look back or talk to them along the way, which helped them keep up their disguise. Peeking out of the robe, Kendra could see the Dwarf leading them intently ahead, breaking the silence only with the odd burp—which Ratchet tried to imitate, until she gave him another kick of warning.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” she muttered.

At last they arrived at a large door that had a guard standing on duty. The guard looked like every other big-eared, scruffy-bearded Dwarf in Umbor, but it was the door that was different—for here, at last, was something that was not made of gold. Indeed, it appeared to be constructed of thick iron, and it had a massive bar set across it to block anyone from coming through from the other side. Then Kendra heard sounds coming from behind the great door. They were strange and mechanical sounds, like the banging of a thousand hammers or the hum of some great industry. They were the type of sounds that sent a chill down her spine.

“Me an’ Ornelius got us the next watch in the pens,” Fiddlewick said to the guard.

“Sure, ain’t no difference to me,” the guard returned, and with some effort, he lifted the great bar so that they could pass through.

The door swung open with a slow, heavy creak. And now, peeking out of the cloak, Kendra could see the source of the noise. Stretching before them was an immense cavern filled with the underground workings of a mine. There were handcarts for moving piles of rock laden with gold and silver. There were furnaces and smelters blazing with fire to melt the precious metals. And there were hundreds and hundreds of workers, all of them swinging pickaxes and shovels to break apart the rocks and expose the treasures of the earth.

It was hard for Kendra to see through the cloak, but there was something strangely familiar about the workers. To begin with, they were enormous—much larger than Eens, or even Dwarves, for that matter—and they grunted and moaned as their dark silhouettes bent with their activity.

“Ah, the night shift’s beginned,” Fiddlewick declared, interrupting Kendra’s thoughts. He led them into the cavern and the guard closed the door behind them with a loud clang.

Now Kendra’s tiny Een ears could hear new noises: the clinking of chains and the cracking of whips.

“Ah, there ain’t no pertier sound is there, eh Ornelius?” Fiddlewick beamed, looking upon the mine workings. “The sound of slaves slavin’!”

“Slaves!” Kendra said with a gasp, but if Fiddlewick heard her, he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and led them up a rocky path that was cut into the side of the cavern. They followed (or rather, Ratchet did, for he was still carrying Kendra and Oki), and they soon found themselves on a narrow ledge that looked down upon the operation of the mine.

Kendra could feel Oki trembling. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he squeaked.

Kendra couldn’t help to agree. “Ratchet,” she whispered, peeking through the cloak. “There’s an outcropping of rock ahead. Duck behind it.”

The raccoon did as she instructed and they were soon safely hidden from Fiddlewick’s view.

“Ornelius?” they heard the Dwarf call after a moment. “Where’d ya go now? Oh, jigger it! Be that way, then. It’ll be yer hide boiled in turnips, not mine, if ya don’t get yer work done . . .”

His voice faded away, leaving Kendra and her friends to scramble out of their disguise. They peeked over the rocks and gazed down upon the cavern of workers—or, as Fiddlewick had called them, slaves.

“So this is how Pugglemud came into all this gold,” Oki murmured. “He’s used his magic belt to capture helpless slaves and make them mine these caverns.”

Kendra grew faint. The sound from the slaves was so loud that she felt as if their hammers and axes were beating against her head. She clutched her collar tight about her neck, as if it would somehow shield her from the horrors before her. “This is what it means to be a slave,” she said to Ratchet after a moment. “It’s not about bossing Oki around.”

“Those were just jokes,” the raccoon said with an abashed grimace. “But it’s no joke now. These fellows are in a bad way.”

“But where did they all come from?” Oki asked anxiously.

Kendra crept out onto the rock ledge to afford herself a closer look.

“Careful!” Ratchet warned.

With an inquisitive tug on her braids, Kendra squinted into the darkness. Finally, her eyes began to adjust to the dim light in the cavern. Now she could better make out the crooked shapes of the slaves. She could see their twisted bodies and their ragged clothes. She could see that they were—

“Days of Een!” she gasped.

“What?” Oki cried.

Kendra could feel her whole body shake as she turned to cast a startled look at her friends.

“Ungers,” she murmured.

UNGERS! There were hundreds of them, a throbbing swarm of twisted bodies that stretched into the dark corners of the vast cavern, as far as Kendra’s small eyes could see. And yet, she and her friends soon realized that it was not Ungers alone that populated the mines. For now, as they studied the vast underground cave, they recognized an entire menagerie of creatures under the command of the Dwarves. There were Goojuns, Izzards, Krakes, and Orrids—all the hideous monsters that Kendra had known to scuttle through her nightmares. Here in the real world, they were no less frightening, for they had crooked fangs and sharp claws. And yet, Kendra realized, these creatures could not harm her even if they wished, for they were chained head to foot, with studded collars about their necks or heavy bracelets of iron around their wrists and ankles. These, the darkest creatures of the night, were slaves.

It seemed to take Oki a moment to understand what he was looking at—an entire cave filled to the brim with monsters—but the second he did, he let out a hair-curling “EEK” and turned to dash away. Quickly, Kendra leapt after the mouse and tripped him to the ground by grabbing his tail.

“Let me go!” Oki screeched. “Great turnips!”

“Shush!” Kendra said, jumping on top of him and throwing her hand over his mouth. “You’ll get us caught!”

She could feel Oki’s heart fluttering like a beetle in the wind, but after a moment, his squealing quieted and Kendra lifted her hand.

“But Kendra,” Oki whispered anxiously. “There are so many of them!”

“It’s okay,” she said, helping the mouse to his feet. “We’ve been through worse, haven’t we? It’ll be okay.”

“It’s an awful sight,” Oki said. “Don’t you have a potion or powder or something to take it all away, Ratchet?”

“I sure wish,” the raccoon said with a grimace.

Kendra crept back to the rock’s ledge. The last thing she wanted to do was look again upon the terrible scene, but somehow she felt that she must.
It’s okay
, she told herself.
Remember, they’re all chained
.

She scowled as she looked down. There were many Dwarven taskmasters throughout the mine, and these wandered about the slaves, whipping them with long cords. The clang of the slaves’ hammers went without pause; Kendra thought her head would explode with the sound.

And now Kendra could feel a spark begin to glow within her, that spark that told her to take action. She had felt it before in her young life, and it was impossible to ignore. She had to do
something
for these hapless prisoners—but what?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a line of Unger slaves that came marching right below the spot where Kendra and her friends were hiding. They were so close that Kendra could see the lifeless expressions on their twisted faces. They were all chained together and a small black-bearded Dwarf was whipping them ahead.

“Back to yer cages, brutes!” the Dwarf bellowed. “It’s time fer yer gruel!”

Then something about one of the Ungers caught Kendra’s eye. “Trooogul!” she gasped out loud.

“Trooogul?” Ratchet asked. “What’s that?”

“He’s one of those Ungers,” Kendra quickly explained. “And I know him. Trooogul is his name; he’s the one I saved last year.”

Ratchet let out a low whistle. Kendra stared hard at the young Unger as he marched past them, behind his fellow captives. There was no mistaking the creature. When she had first met him, Trooogul had been in serious trouble, hanging for dear life from the edge of a cliff, but Kendra could not help to think that he looked worse off now. He was burdened with heavy chains and his skin was covered in scars and bruises from the lashes of many whips. His small tusks were stained and yellow and his once-ferocious eyes were now dull and empty.

“I have to do something about this,” Kendra murmured with determination. Before she knew it, she was climbing over the ledge and headed down the rocks towards the line of Unger slaves.

“Kendra, where are you going?” Ratchet exclaimed, reaching out to grab her by the cloak.

“I didn’t save him for this misery,” Kendra said over her shoulder, and she could feel her very face burning red. “Now let me go!”

“But there’s nothing you can do for him now,” Oki said.

“Just watch me,” Kendra declared as she jerked away from Ratchet’s grasp and slid the rest of the way down the rock ledge.

“Come on,” Kendra heard Ratchet say to Oki. “We have to go with her.”

The mouse let out a tiny eek, but a moment later, she heard them scrambling down the rock after her. She didn’t look back, though—her eyes were focused on Trooogul and the line of Unger slaves that were now marching into the darkness ahead of her.

How did Trooogul end up here?
Kendra asked herself, her mind racing.

With Ratchet and Oki close at her heels, Kendra followed the chain of Ungers out of the mine workings and down a long, dark passageway that was carved into the rock. The sounds of the mines were soon a distant clamor, but ahead she could hear the sharp crack of the Dwarven taskmaster’s whip.

It was not long before they entered a large cavern. At once, Kendra realized the chamber was the site of the “pens” that had been mentioned by the Dwarf Fiddlewick, for here were many prison cells set within the rocky walls. Many of these pens were occupied, filled with all sorts of wretched looking beasts that had fallen into slavery. With a gulp, Kendra led her companions forward, deeper into the dungeon. Thankfully, the cavern was lit by only a few flickering torches, and it was easy for the three small trespassers to hide in the somber shadows.

“Look,” Oki whispered with a gesture of his paw. “It’s our old friend, Fiddlewick himself.”

The Dwarf had been resting half-asleep on a stool at the far end of the dungeon, but now he rose to meet the Dwarven Taskmaster and his chain gang of Ungers. It was Kendra’s first good look at Fiddlewick; before, she had been trying to look at him through the disguise of the cloak. Now she could see that he was holding a heavy club, and on his belt was a ring of rusted keys, which were obviously for the many cages in the dungeon.

“Eh, Druffle,” Fiddlewick said to the Dwarf leading the Ungers. “You ain’t seen Ornelius have ya?”

“Ain’t he supposed to be here?” Druffle asked.

“He run off in them mines,” Fiddlewick said. “But he’s the unreliable sort anyway, I reckon.”

“The king will rake his hide,” Druffle said. “But I guess that’s goin’ to be his problem. Well, here’s this lazy lot of brutes. You can get ‘em fed and slumbered. They got a whole lot of minin’ to do tomorrow. Hee Hee.”

Kendra and her friends watched as the two Dwarves unchained Trooogul and the other Ungers and herded each of them into a cell. With this done, Druffle slung his whip over his shoulder and took his leave from the dungeon, returning (Kendra supposed) back to the mines.

“I never knew that Ungers and such smelt this bad,” Ratchet commented from their hiding place. He covered his nose, for indeed, the stench was awful.

“They . . . they don’t,” Kendra murmured. “It’s this place. It’s this dirty dungeon.”

There was a large cauldron bubbling in the center of the room, and now Fiddlewick began dishing out bowls of thick gray gruel for the newly-arrived slaves. With the completion of this task, the cheerful Dwarf settled himself back down on his stool.

“What now?” Oki asked.

“You two stay here,” Kendra answered. “I’m going to bust Trooogul free.”

“How?” Ratchet asked.

“Do you have any
Snore Galore
left?” Kendra asked. “I’m going to put Fiddlewick asleep.”

“Of course,” Ratchet said, handing the small pouch to her. “But do you think this is such a wise idea?”

“Trooogul won’t hurt me, if that’s what you mean,” Kendra said firmly.

“How can you be so sure?” Oki squeaked. “He’s an Unger, after all. And that’s what Ungers do. They hurt Eens.”

“He didn’t last time,” Kendra said.

“Oki’s right,” Ratchet said. “You can’t trust those critters. Look, everyone knows that.”

“Well, maybe I know something too,” Kendra declared in a determined voice.

“Forget it, Ratchet,” Oki said with a groan. “You won’t talk her out of it now.”

“Well, here, you better take my
Easy Sneeze
, too,” Ratchet said, pressing a second pouch into Kendra’s small hands. “It’s the last of my powders, but take it, just in case. You can throw it at that fellow if he decides to take a swipe at you.”

“He won’t,” Kendra assured the raccoon, but just to satisfy him, she took the sneezing powder anyway.

Kendra turned and crept through the shadows, towards the stool where Fiddlewick was sitting and whistling happily. As she got closer, Kendra noticed a small ridge of rock that ran up behind him. She scaled the ridge quickly, and before long, she was perched just above him. As quietly as she could, she sprinkled some of the
Snore Galore
down upon the Dwarf guard. He instantly fell asleep and Kendra quickly scrambled down to the floor. She unhooked the keys from Fiddlewick’s belt before turning to face the rows of cages. She had been careful to watch which cage Trooogul had been locked up in, but it now took her a moment to scan the wall to relocate it. The pens were deep and dark, and it was not easy to see the prisoners they contained. Kendra knew she had to find the right one; the last thing she wanted to do was to wander into a pen and face some unsuspecting Goojun.

After a moment, she was sure she had found Trooogul’s cage, and she scampered across the floor. The prison cell was set high up in the rocks, and once again, she had to climb just to reach it. Had she had time to dwell upon her situation, she probably would have been too frightened to act, for the dungeon cells were as black as wells and the air was filled with the slurping sounds of the slaves as they devoured their gruel. But she had that spark in her now; her purpose now was not to think, but to take action.

She pulled herself up to the lip of Trooogul’s cage with a grunt of effort. For a moment she rested there, on her knees, staring into the dark cave that was the Unger’s prison. At first she couldn’t see the creature, but after a moment she realized he was sitting in the back corner, quietly watching her. He must have heard her approach and now, even though she could only make out his faint outline in the blackness, she knew that he was watching her, waiting to see what she would do next.

“Trooogul?” she called, and she could hear the tremble in her own voice.

He didn’t reply and Kendra wondered if he had heard her at all. She was just about to speak again when his voice rumbled up through the darkness, sending a shiver to the very tips of her braids.

“Youzum,” he grunted. “Whozum are you?”