Kendra Kandlestar and the Shard From Greeve (4 page)

THAT NIGHT THERE WAS A SHOWER OF FALLING STARS. Kendra watched it in amazement with her uncle from the tiny observatory that was perched at the top of the yew tree. If you have ever seen a falling star, then you know it can be a beautiful sight to behold—now think of a thousand of them all at once and perhaps you will begin to imagine the brilliant spectacle that ignited the skies over the quiet land of Een. To Kendra it seemed as if the heavens themselves were at war.

“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered as he stroked his long beard. “These stars are an omen; something important is happening in the outside world. Tomorrow we must visit Winter Woodsong.”

“I thought she was across the River Wink, visiting Enid Evermoon,” Kendra said.

“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch returned. “And that’s where we shall go too; I do not want to wait to hear her wisdom regarding this cosmic storm.”

So at first light Kendra and Uncle Griffinskitch set off to seek the old sorceress known as Winter Woodsong. They crossed the River Wink by way of Peddler’s Bridge and by mid-morning reached the outskirts of Kojo’s Hope, the town where Winter was visiting her friend. Kendra had never been to this part of Een, and she looked upon her new surroundings with interest. On the right side of their path a wall of stone appeared, over which a row of tall yellow flowers nodded gently in the wind. Even though it was autumn, the flowers had not lost their bloom, and as she passed Kendra suddenly heard this song fill the air:

There was an old wizard from Een,

The grumpiest that’s ever been seen.

He always said humph

(What a lot of bumph)

And his odor was just obscene.

Kendra turned and looked in surprise at her uncle.

“Humph,” he grumbled, tugging his beard in irritation. “Pay it no mind.” Yet these words had no sooner left his lips than another song was heard:

There once was a wizard too white

His beard was as long as the night

He looked like a ghost

Or so he would boast

His breath was worse than his bite.

“Er . . . where is it coming from?” Kendra asked.

“The flowers,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered. “We’re passing by the Rainmaker’s Rhapsody; it’s an enchanted garden, renowned for these songbells.”

“They don’t seem to like you very much,” Kendra said.

“Humph,” the old wizard snorted, glaring at the row of flowers leaning over the wall. “Come, let’s leave this place behind and seek Elder Woodsong.”

At that moment, as if to respond to the mention of her name, Winter Woodsong herself stepped out from an opening in the garden wall. “Go no further, old friend,” she said, “for here you find me.”

As the frail old woman spoke, a tapestry of wrinkles shifted across her face. She was a tiny, delicate creature, and she moved slowly and carefully, without vigor. From head to foot she was snow white, for time had bleached her hair and skin of all color, and she was clothed in a gown as pale as a winter’s moon.

“Greetings,” Uncle Griffinskitch said with a slight bow. “What has brought you to the garden, Elder Woodsong?”

“The lovely morning,” Winter replied. “After such a wretched night in the stars, I thought I would leave Enid to her breakfast and come here to meditate.”

“With all these silly songs?” Kendra asked, even as the flowers belted out another chorus.

“Some say to hear the sound of a songbell is to soothe the soul,” Winter explained. “But I’m afraid they take great glee in teasing your uncle. They don’t like the way he treated the Een who first planted this garden.”

“Who was that?” Kendra asked.

“Why, Krimson Kandlestar, your own father of course,” Winter explained. “Did your uncle never tell you?”

Kendra cast Uncle Griffinskitch a curious look, her mind instantly filled with questions. But before she could ask any of them, Winter said, “Come with me, my friends, and we shall sit in the garden. The flowers shall turn to more tranquil songs at my request.”

Without waiting for a response, the old sorceress turned and led them through the gate and into the Rainmaker’s Rhapsody. She sang a little tune of her own, and immediately the songbells ceased their limericks and began humming a gentle melody; Kendra immediately felt the mood shift in the garden, and her own heart felt peaceful.

Before long, Winter came to a stop in what seemed to be the very center of the garden. Here stood a large stone statue of an Een man with long braids. This was none other than Leemus Longbraids, one of the founders of the land of Een (Kendra recognized him from the pictures in her history books). The statue of Leemus stood bold and dignified, with one hand outstretched to hold a perfectly round stone. This stone, Kendra knew, was meant to symbolize the magic orb, one of the Elders’ most magical items.

“We have many words to exchange, old friend,” Winter said, casting a meaningful look at Uncle Griffinskitch.

“Aye,” the wizard responded. “But there are ears everywhere. Perhaps this garden is not the—ahem—best place for us to confer.”

“Do not worry,” Winter declared. “The songbells will stand guard for us, if only one knows how to ask.” With this said, the old sorceress closed her eyes, raised her hands, and chanted to the garden:

Sing to the wind, dear flowers, and be not brief;

Yet, if some soul this way comes, harboring grief—

Then hush your petals, tremble not a leaf,

And I may be warned of my whisper’s thief.

When she had completed her incantation, Winter opened her eyes and smiled. “Now we may speak freely. Come, I will take my favorite seat in the garden.” She hobbled over to a small toadstool that was growing in the shade beneath the outstretched arm of the stone statue. “Many an hour have I idled here in the shadow of old Leemus Longbraids,” Winter remarked. “I like to think I can feel his ancient wisdom. Now, let us speak of last night. I trust you witnessed the storm in the stars?”

“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch said with a stroke of his beard. “I fear trouble is stirring. Surely, the stars are telling us that something has been destroyed or lost out there in the world beyond the magic curtain.”

Winter nodded in agreement. “I believe there are those who would retrieve this lost thing. But they are not working together; indeed, they are making war!” Winter paused for a moment and turned to look intently upon Kendra. “I cannot help but think, child, that your actions may have something do with this.”

“Me!” Kendra cried, tugging one of her braids. “What did I do?”

“Nothing at all,” Winter replied impishly, “except cross into the forbidden Greeven Wastes and destroy the Door to Unger, a most sacred place to the monsters that skitter and crawl across the outside world.”

“Do you think the Ungers are trying rebuild the door?” Uncle Griffinskitch asked.

“Would such a thing be possible?” Winter wondered. “Kendra, tell me the story of what happened when you were cast through that wretched portal.”

“But I’ve told you everything already,” Kendra said.

“Tell me again,” Winter said. “These old ears would like to hear it once more.”

“Well,” said Kendra after a moment’s pause. “It’s as I’ve said before. When the Door to Unger opened, we were all pulled inside the maze. It was meant to trick us, to play on our fears, and turn us into monsters—Ungers, Izzards, and such.”

“But you did not succumb to this curse; you found your way to the center of the maze,” Winter said.

Kendra nodded. “And there I met the ghost of the Wizard Greeve haunting the maze. But then the whole temple began to crumble. The ghost told me that because I had defeated him, the maze, the door—everything—would be destroyed. But the ghost showed us a way out; and as long as we stayed in his path of light we’d remain in our true forms. Then Kiro stepped out of the light at the very end, so I think he must still be changed back to a creature’s form. The last I saw of him, he was Trooogul the Unger.”

For many moments, Winter said nothing. Her brow furrowed, and she seemed lost in deep thought. At long last she said, “Your brother, Kendra, plays a part in this, I’m sure, whether he’s Trooogul or Kiro. But tell me, child, what else did you see in the center of the maze?”

“Nothing,” Kendra replied. “Just a podium of stone and a broken cauldron. The ghost was rising up from it.”

“Ah,” Winter murmured.

“What is it?” Kendra asked.

“The cauldron of Greeve,” Uncle Griffinskitch answered for the old woman. “During the dawn of Een, the Wizard Greeve cursed his brothers. Only one—old Leemus Longbraids here—escaped his act of rage.”

“Your mother, Kendra, was convinced of a legend that told how Greeve brewed the curse in his cauldron,” Winter added. “The curse was so vile, so full of hatred, that they say it caused his cauldron to shatter.”

“The very cauldron, Kendra, that you discovered in the center of the maze,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If the legend is true, then the shattered remains of the cauldron would be relics of great power.”

“But the maze was destroyed,” Kendra said. “Surely the cauldron was too.”

“It’s possible,” Winter mused. “Or perhaps the fragments were recovered.”

“That still doesn’t explain what we have seen in the stars,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If someone recovered the pieces, then the cauldron is not lost.”

“Unless no single party has all the fragments,” Winter suggested. “It remains a mystery yet. When I return to—,”

She paused, for the songbells had abruptly ceased to make their music. The ancient sorceress put a finger to her lips, and all three of them looked about nervously. After the melodious singing of the enchanted songbells, it seemed uncomfortably quiet in the garden.

For a moment, Kendra thought she spotted something slipping past the stems of the songbells, but it was just as quickly gone. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. I
must be imagining things,
she thought.

Then a loud crack came from above, and Kendra looked up to see the great stone ball rolling from the hand of the statue. It was plummeting right towards Winter!

Before Kendra could even think to take action, Uncle Griffinskitch flicked his staff, quickly lifting Winter out of the way. With a thud, the stone crashed into the toadstool, right where Winter had been sitting, leaving behind nothing more than a flattened, pulpy mass.

“It seems I owe you my life, Gregor,” Winter said, after taking the briefest of moments to find her wits.

“How could the statue just crumble like that?” Kendra asked.

“It was no accident, I assure you,” Winter declared.

“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Someone,” Winter said solemnly, “is trying to kill me.”