Truth, according to Comb the hutkeeper, sometime deep in past, eons ago, Gorge the three-toed troll took the dangerous wand to Cloud Castle City. How had so such an important incident escaped mention in the Gwer drollek stories of the bendo dreen and yet been known by the Garden-tending hutkeepers of Clover? I shrugged on my broom. Some things are how they are. The wind ruffled and flapped my blackest purple cloak when I turned to follow Kar, yellow Dragon Kar, fat, with orange wings. We lifted on a line above the foothills at the base of Orrun Mountain. Far below us the ribbon path climbing the mountain beside the Chasm of Kraan showed the way. Halfway up we saw the rope bridge across the Chasm swaying, buffeted by gusty breezes.
“Galones,” I shouted to Kar.
She blinked an orange eye and nodded her scaly head. Gwer drollek stories flooded our memories. Such and so many a Gwer drollek story paid visits to the Huge Galones. The Huge Galones are great sculpted heads of stone standing at the brink of the Chasm near the frail-looking strand rope bridge. There they were. I looked at ‘em. I saw no Ibblers. Ibblers, so said, dwell inside the hollow Galones. They host the way to Shangra Pass.
“Where are the ... the ... Nibb ... no ... Ibblers?” I wondered.
“Probably in one of the Galones eating kettel,” hissed Kar, flickering flames of gold from her nostrils.
“We’ll visit ‘em ... on the hay stack ... no ... the way back ... after I bind the frond,” I said.
“Good idea,” agreed Kar, knowing full well what I’d meant to say.
Up and up the mountain we went. Its snowy white peak yet loomed above us. The winds grew colder and rougher. I had to hold onto my hat. My hair flew into my face, surprising me with its black stringiness. So such, I’d been accustomed to my life-long bendo dreen coppery hair. My cloak flapped and snapped. Up and up. I squinted and grimaced. The top. The rim. Where was it? I tucked in close behind Kar, so such providing myself with fat yellow Dragon protection from the wind. I followed her undulating tail. Below, a blanket of white snow covered the mountainside. I shifted my gaze to Kar’s flapping wings. Up and up she climbed. At last there was sky and a rush of peace. No wind. No cold. We had arrived above the ever-blooming springtime of Orrun Mountain Hollow.
“Sarajandos,” I gasped.
“Sarajandos,” echoed Kar.
The plateau in the bowl of Orrun Mountain Hollow offered a wonderful view of sarajando trees, white with blossoms, and fields of lush green grasses sprinkled with yellow and purple dots of flowers. The cherry vanilla scent of the sarajando blossoms perfumed the air all around us. And the road. There was the road! Round green cobbles made a stripe along the floor of the Hollow. The road led to Cloud Castle City. Oh, the Gwer drollek stories! Cloud Castle City! The troll brought the wand here! I dropped low to the road and raced along it. Whiz! I cackled. Ahead. Ahead. Ahead I saw the famous Crag of Orrun Mountain rising above the rim on the far side of the Hollow. Cloud Castle City nestles under the Crag. Cloud Castle City. Cloud ...
“It’s ... It’s ... It’s ...,” I said.
“Not here,” completed Kar beside me.
We landed at the end of the green road of round cobbled bricks. Before us, below us, spread a vast scoop of empty, a vast scoop of empty where the flying city rested whenever it was home.
Chapter Six
CONVERSING AT THE BRINK OF THESCOOP
“Where is it, do you think, Bek?”
“I don’t drink ... think.”
“Can’t you do something with one of your rings to find out where it is? That one there looks so such like a tiny crystal ball.”
“This? It’s ... It’s ... It’s the ... the orb of clarity. It bends ... no ... sends messages to me from ... from the crystal doll ... ball ... in the ... the ... the ...”
“Edible cottage?”
“Yoss.”
“Nothing in it now?”
“No.”
“Oh. It’s a great grand deepness of a basin, isn’t it? It would be so such an amazement to see the city float down and settle here, wouldn’t it? Lit up in the night, floating. Cloud Castle City. Why haven’t we visited it ever yet before?”
“Too many other ... adventures.”
“Truth. But we’re here now, and Cloud Castle City isn’t. Do you think the wand is truly hidden somewhere within the city? Might not the troll have buried it any old where here in the Hollow? Might he ...”
“Orruneries!”
“What?”
“Orruneries! Caves! ... Bun ... Fun ... Tun ... Yoss! ... Tunnels! Yoss! That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“We’ll bask ... ask the orruneries under the ... wallow ... no ... Hollow. Yoss.”
“Why should they know anything? Don’t they just dream about going to live on the sun? So is such in all the Gwer drollek I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe ... but I bought it ... thought it, so said it might be ... be ... be ...”
“All right, enough be be be’s. But if we’re going to find the entrance to the underground, you’ll have to make us ruby ring alert and your hat luminous or something so such. I can breathe fire as Dragon, but it’s tiring, and I’m already tired. Use your rings. Why for else have you got ‘em?”
“No. We’ll nest in fleece ... rest in peace ... under ... under a sarajando bee ... key ... tree. Yoss. In the morning, Cloud Castle City might be back. If not, we’ll ... we’ll ... hunt for the ... the tunnel down to the ... the ...”
“Orruneries. Well, yes, truth, to sleep blanketed with cherry vanilla scent under sarajando blossoms would be a thorns brimming over pleasure. I’ll be the first jrabe jroon to sleep as a bendo dreen in Orrun Mountain Hollow. Oh, such, too! Maybe you’re right! Cloud
Castle City could return all lit glowing in the darkness to settle so such right here! Jeweled castles! I’ll watch for that! I’ll ...”
“Settle, Kar. Pear ... There. Let’s bake our vest ... take our rest ... over there. I’ll conjure us bakes ... cakes.”
“Could you conjure pies instead? After all, I am Queen Jebb of the Acrotwist Clowns as well as all the other things I am. I’m hungry for pies. I’m used to eating and throwing ‘em every day.”
“Eyes ... Pies ... yoss. Lemony steam ... cream ... swirled with ool. Yoss. Yoss.”
“Yoss. I mean yes. Oh, it looks ...”
“Mmmmmm ...”
“Yes, mmmmmmmmm ...”
Chapter Seven
A VISIT WITH THE ORRUNERIES
We settled under a sarajando tree to take our rest in the ever-springtime warmth of Orrun Mountain Hollow. We wafted to slumber on the cherry vanilla scent of the blossoms. Such was pleasantly so. When I awoke in the morning, I kept contentedly still. I watched the light through the canopy of clustered blossoms go from dim to light, and the blossoms ‘emselves go from shadow gray to white. After a span of time passed, I turned my gaze to where I hoped Cloud Castle City would be nestled in the scoop under the Crag of Orrun. No spires of jeweled castles. No ornate gate. No City. I poked Kar with my broom and put on my buckle shoes.
“Bake ... Wake, Kar,” I croaked. “Orruneries.”
Kar pushed herself up, stretched, rubbed her bendo dreen eyes, stared with a half-smile at where the Castle City wasn’t.
“Nice place, Bek. Best sleep I ever had. I think I might have almost dreamed. If I commanded Cloud Castle City, it would never spend a night other where,” said Kar.
I nodded at her nonsense and got to my feet. Time for business. Time to talk to orruneries. I was on a search for my wand. Cloud Castle City wasn’t in its place. Orruneries were ever always in their place deep below Orrun Mountain Hollow. So such said many a Gwer drollek story. Orruneries are famously knowing, I thought. Knowing. I’ll ask ‘em about the wand. They might know. They might know.
“Remember the Gwer drollek of Lord Fay Dot and ... and ... Bones ... no ... Yones the Hollowite?” I asked.
“How many times did we play avalanche in the hedge?” snorted Kar. “Of course I remember.”
“Let’s grind ... find ... the bite ... site of the ... the ... the ...”
“Avalanche,” completed Kar. “It was near the green road at the edge of the Hollow. I’m first!”
So saying, she shimmered to Racing Dragon, leapt to the sky and sped off above the round green cobbles of the road. I took to my broom with a shrug and an “Awaaaay”. I floated slowly after her, humming a bendo dreen tune. Kar likes to be first. I don’t care. I smoothly sailed the fair full width of Orrun Mountain Hollow. On the ground I noticed Kar, shifted to bendo dreen Kar. She leaped up and down between a pair of sarajando trees.
“Stairs! Wide open!” she yelled. “It wasn’t like this in any Gwer drollek!”
I touched down next to her and was thrilled up to amazement at what I saw. A clearly marked opening. A well-made sign studded with jewels shaped to form Ancient Orrunian runes. Ruby runes. Emerald runes. A background of glittering countless diamonds. Hundreds? Thousands? Stairs down to under, carven and gilded. Without a word, down ‘em we went to a cavern. I touched my square emerald ring just so. My hat glowed luminous green.
“Ah,” said Kar.
Walls painted with glories. No time. Wand. The tunnel. Orruneries. Down. Down. Warm and warmer. Aglow ever deep. Gold. I touched my ring. My hat light was doused.
“Ah,” said Kar.
Down. Turn. We came to a ledge and saw the splashing yellow molten river. Writhing twists of fire with willowy arms threw dancing shadows on the glowing red walls. Buckletar and lava, brimstone, the river of fire churned by.
“Orruneries! I am ... am ... Bekka Ja Harick! I feed ... need my wand to complete my towers ... powers!” I shouted.
A form boiled up from the middle of the river, surging and waving its willowy arms.
“When we go to live on the sun, we will know all about the wand. And we won’t be so chilly. At last we’ll be warm. We’ll know if the wand safely hidden in the Great Sea Fire Spout will be discovered,” hissed the figure, and it threw itself to sink in the crashing tumbling churning fiery river.
“Wait! What is the ... the Great Sea Fire Spout? Bear ... Flare ... Where is it?” I shouted.
Figure after figure, orrunerie after orrunerie, rose writhing to say the same thing. Each of ‘em repeated, word for word, what the first one said.
“That’s all you’re going to get,” said Kar.
We shrugged like we do.
Chapter Eight
TO FAN WA’S ISLAND
We trudged back up the tunnel, arguing about the Great Sea Fire Spout. Kar made me change my hat’s color four times and we ate two conjured pies each, gadapple and palmpear. We reached the cavern of painted glories and paced in a circle, examining the famous walls while we argued.
“We should go to the Hall of Clowns on Fan Wa’s Island. You need to inspect the Clock, sign the book,” insisted Kar.
“Great Sea Wire ... Fire Spout first,” I resisted.
“You keep saying that, and I keep telling you that it’s a Great Sea Fire Spout, not a Lake Spout or a River Spout. My island of Acrotwist Clowns sits in the middle of the Wide Great Sea. SEA! Sea Spout! Fan Wa’s Island is so such probably on the very way to this Great Sea Fire Spout,” argued Kar.
I looked at my twenty-two rings. I couldn’t think of a thing to do with ‘em to make my path any clearer. I looked at Kar. She shrugged like we do and nodded at me and raised high her coppery eyebrows.
“The ... Spout ... fight ... might be ... out ... out beyond ... the island,” I admitted, returning her shrug.
“Of course!” she enthused. “The Clowns have never seen you as Bekka Ja Harick. I’ll be the first to introduce you! Let’s race there! No. Better. I’ll carry you! I’ll swoop in as Golden Dragon and then shift to Queen Jebb. That’ll ... No! Better! We’ll land on Rocky Beach and sneak up to ... No! Better! We’ll ...”
My green jade ring with the flecks of gold positively itched on my little finger. It wanted so such that much to be used. With a simple twist and a mumble I used it. Kar fell silent, though her lips still moved. I gave her a shrug and a guilty smile. Kar folded her arms across her chest and looked fierce.
“We should grow ... go, not walk ... talk,” I explained.
Kar jabbed a fierce finger at her tight-lipped frown. I twisted the gold-flecked green jade ring and mumbled. Kar shimmered a shift to cloud and floated up the neatly carved gilded stairs. I followed. Up at the entrance by the jeweled sign she waited, bendo dreen Kar again, arms folded, fierce. She glared at me.
“You can ... talk ... how ... now,” I said.
She shimmered to Golden Racing Dragon and lashed her tail to knock off my hat. I conjured a double round lemon gold pie and held it out to her. So such, it was my offer of apology for striking her silent with my ring.
“We had to grow ... go. You were ... talking,” I shrugged. “You wanted me to ... to show you ... ring shells ... spells. Yoss? Well ... I’m doing it.”
She snatched the pie and swallowed it whole. The gleam in her eyes softened to merry.
“Rings. Yes, the rings. You have powers, Bek. You are the new Harick, not just my plain old Bekka. I have to get used to that, don’t I? I do. Yes. I was the first ever to be spelled by the new Harick. First ever! First ever twice!”
“Yoss, such is woe ... so,” I agreed, picking up my hat.
“Climb on. We’ll ... Oh, never mind,” laughed Kar, and she jumped to the sky.
I rose on my broom and sped after her. We made a pair of streaks leaving Orrun Mountain Hollow and racing on a line high above the Wide Great Sea. We approached Fan Wa’s Island, and Kar twisted her serpent neck to look at me.
“Rocky Beach,” was all she said.
I nodded and dipped to dive. We came low above the waves to the island home of the Clowns and landed unobserved at twilight on Rocky Beach. Behind boulders on silver sands Kar shimmered to shift. In a nince I was in the company of Jebb, Queen of the Acrotwist Clowns. Her whitepainted face was sprinkled with red stars. Her spiral of dark green hair curled up to a point on her otherwise bald white head. Her painted red smile beamed at me below her bright yellow eyes. She wore long yellow slapshoes and a red-spotted jumpsuit and a floppy blue neck ruffle. She thrust her yellow-gloved hands into her round red patch pockets. She pulled ‘em out and held ‘em forth for me to see what she held.
“Pebblecake crumbs,” she said. “Want some?”
Chapter Nine
THE CLOCK INSPECTION WHIRL
“We’ll nest ... no ... rest ... yoss ... here tonight,” I decided while we sat on silver sands among boulders watching gentle waves lapping the shore.
“More rest? I thought this was our rest. I thought we were waiting for Supper Pie Time to burst in on ‘em, surprise ‘em,” complained Kar.
“In the morning. Yoss. Surprise ‘em in the ... the ... the ...”
“Morning! Yes, I know. Why not now? Can’t one of those rings jump us to morning?” said the impatient Kar.
“No. Haricks can’t ... lime ... grime ... no ... time! Yoss! ... Haricks can’t time travel. And also besides so such in any way, I want to ... to ... watch Jeth and Jith,” I explained.
“Ah, moons over the beach. We’ve seen ‘em a few times, haven’t we? That is a so such pleasure, true,” recalled Kar.
I conjured a nearby boulder to as soft as the deepest plush carpet of grass on the Blue Hills where I’d become the new Harick. We arranged ourselves on the boulder to view the sky. Jeth and Jith, both full fat round, climbed out of the sea and up the night. Blue light on silver sands. Waves tumbling, foamy luminous blue. Stars and stars, sprays of ‘em. We rested and chatted like as we do, remembering back to when we were bendo dreen misfits repairing chonkas, so said tambourines, in the hedge. And who were we now? Kar was a jrabe jroon shapes
hiftress, guised as Queen Jebb of the Acrotwist Clowns, gesturing with her yellow-gloved hands, her spiral of dark green hair bobbing to punctuate her speech. I, Bekka Ja Harick, gazed in wonder at my lavender hands and at the glints and gleams of my twenty-two magic rings. Wand. I needed the wand for my powers to be complete. Where was the Great Sea Fire Spout? When would we find it? On thoughts so such as these, I surrendered to the moons and the soothing rustle of the waves and found myself nudged awake in the morning by Kar, Queen Jebb.
So such began a day filled with nonsense and delight. We hurried to the Great Hall where we found Acrotwist Clowns scattered about, asleep and snoring on trampolines, under ‘em, in corners, slumped against walls. Kar shouted ‘em awake, announcing me as the new Fan Wa, the new Harick, Bekka Ja. They fairly slammed awake, shrieking with joy, bouncing, dancing on stilts, swinging across the Hall, trapeze to trapeze, juggling each the other, rolling on giant brightly colored orbs, hurling ceremonial pies at their Queen Jebb, at me, at all everybody in hectic ruckus. Poetry was recited in song. The gongs were bashed with endless energy, adding to the storm of deafening din. High laughter, low laughter, cries of triumph when pies struck home so such true on target. The Hall, ceiling to floor, became a slippery sticky mess of broken crusts and scattered fillings, custards and berries of all every sort. The hilarious babble of merriment flowed up the stairs to the Clock Vault on a shouted order from Kar Jebb, the Queen. I was swept along the rushing river of singing, dancing, spinning, juggling nonsense. I washed into the Vault much to the shock surprise of the wide awake Clown on duty, and everyone all of the other Acrotwist Clowns stood around suddenly silent and staring at me. I looked at the massive towering Clock. It hummed. Its ruby dials and flashing yellow, blue and red lights gleamed. Mirrors rotated, neatly polished. Wheels in wheels, coils and gears, everything moving, humming smoothly. I raised my arms out in a sweeping motion which I thought might look so such impressive.
“It looks ... wine ... fine,” I ventured.
The Wicked Wand Page 2