Flight of the Genie

by Tony Abbott

  Tying one end of a stout rope to the bars, Neal fastened the other around his pilka’s back. Then he gave the pilka a pat.

  Hrrrr! It whinnied, then — krrrr-ploing! — it pulled the thick iron bars right off the window. Then Neal dangled the rope down into the dungeon.

  Within two minutes, the pilka had pulled Keeah, Eric, Hoja, and Max up and out into the sunny street. Scruffing the pilka’s nose, Neal gave it a pat and let it go. “Thanks for the help, pal!”

  “This is so awesome!” said Keeah, hugging Neal.

  “No kidding,” said Neal. “I thought I’d lost you forever. And where are Julie and Galen?”

  “You almost did lose us,” said Max pulling everyone into the shadows. “As for Julie and Galen, you’ll never believe it!”

  “First of all,” said Eric, “Galen took off after some kind of pale ghosty person all in white. And there are rumblings and quakings —”

  “But that’s not the worst part,” chirped Max.

  “The duke of Ut looks exactly like you!” said Hoja.

  Neal dropped his sandwich. “Like me? No wonder people gave me free food — they must have thought I was him!”

  “Plus, he rules with an iron fist,” said Keeah.

  “So he’s tough, is he?” asked Neal, picking up his sandwich again.

  Hoja laughed. “No, the duke really has a metal glove he likes to bang on things. He yells a lot, too.”

  “But that’s not the worst part, either,” said Max, dusting off Neal’s pickle and giving it to him.

  “Julie looks exactly like his sister,” said Eric. “In fact, he dragged her off to his palace!”

  “That’s the worst part,” said Max. “Once the duke realizes it’s not her, she’ll be in big trouble. Not to mention that we only have a few hours left before — pfft! — Ut goes back into the bottle.”

  Neal nodded as he crunched into the pickle. “We have to save Julie. And find Galen. That’s all there is to it.”

  “And that’s the best part!” said Hoja. “The duke took my turban to his Museum of Magic. When I have it back, I’ll be all genie again. And I have a feeling we’ll need as much magic as we’ve got to make this crazy mixed-up day come out right!”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Keeah, looking up at the sky. “We’d better hurry. It’s already afternoon.”

  “To the Museum of Magic,” cried Max, following Hoja down the shadowy street.

  “Don’t forget me,” said Neal, finishing his pickle. “I can probably get us in for free!”

  Moving quickly through the shadows, Hoja darted into a narrow alley alongside the prison. “We need to stay out of the light,” he whispered.

  “So we don’t get caught,” added Max.

  “And because without my turban I get sunburned!” Hoja chuckled softly. “This way!”

  Eric kept running over in his mind what had happened. The dreams. The bottle. The duke.

  “Galen was sure right about Ut being a mystery. I mean, we found Hoja, but things got way complicated. And Julie and Galen are still gone.”

  Keeah nodded. “And this rumbling under the ground …”

  “I know!” said Neal. “I fell twice in the streets before I found you. You don’t know how many times that pickle fell before you saw it!”

  Eric remembered what had been said about the Bottle of Ut. It would be useful against Sparr.

  But not how they expected.

  Right now, he thought, I expect just about anything!

  “There it is!” said Hoja, putting up his hand. “The Museum of Magic. My turban is in there.”

  They had reached the big, tiled square again. The museum stood nearby like a giant mushroom of purple stone. Two furry guards stood on each side of a high black arch. It looked dark inside the building, but everyone felt they had to go in.

  “Maybe we can try an old trick to distract the guards,” said Keeah. She picked up a pebble from the street and threw it hard. It hit a distant wall with a loud smack.

  “Over there!” cried one of the dog-headed sentries, pointing to the nearby alley. The guards rushed off to it.

  “Cool move,” said Eric. “Now let’s go.”

  Together the small group rushed up the steps, through the arch, and into the cool darkness of the museum.

  Inside, they found one corridor after another leading to giant rooms filled with nothing but stolen treasure.

  Eric felt his neck tingle as he saw the rows and rows of glass cases holding swords, scrolls, jeweled goblets, and crowns.

  In some tall cases stood life-size mannequins wearing beaded robes and winged headdresses. The figures modeling them looked almost alive. One woman wore a mask with two noses. A man next to her had a bushy mustache and a belt hanging with golden pouches.

  “Strange stuff,” whispered Neal.

  “And magical,” said Keeah. “All magical.”

  “My master would love it,” said Max quietly. “He would know what everything means.”

  Eric wished he knew. Looking at all those magical objects, he felt as if he wanted to try them all.

  “The magical urns of Parthnoop!” whispered Hoja. He pointed at several large pots standing together. Some were brown, some blue, some green. But all of them were decorated with circles and spirals and other designs. “I’ve read about these urns. But never mind. I must find my turban!”

  Amid the treasures, Eric spotted what he knew right away was an enchanted object.

  It was a globe of Droon, obviously made long ago. Eric could tell it was old because it showed great stretches of dark land under the rule of Emperor Ko, the ancient leader of the beasts.

  Eric stared amazedly at the globe, not moving an inch.

  But the globe did.

  It turned slowly in midair, wisps of clouds drifting across its surface like smoke. In the seas that covered half the world, miniature waves splashed and spilled around tiny wooden ships.

  It was like watching a movie.

  As he stared at it, Keeah came up behind him. “Galen says that when Ko ruled, he was even more powerful than Sparr is today. Almost all of Droon was dark.”

  He turned to her. “Sparr wants it like that again. That’s what he’s always wanted.”

  “We have to hope that we can stop him.”

  Stop him.

  A sudden shiver tingled up Eric’s back. Sparr’s power was growing every minute. His lands were getting bigger all the time. Did the friends really have the power to stop him?

  And what did Ut have to do with it all?

  As the globe turned, the southeast of Droon passed before them, showing the Serpent Sea.

  “The Doom Gate is there,” he said. “Where the Red Eye of Dawn is. Where I got my powers —”

  “Turban! There you are, my old friend!” Hoja squealed suddenly.

  At the sound of his voice, the genie’s enormous turban, wound of brilliant red cloth and studded with jewels, burst from its case. It began zipping around the room excitedly and singing loudly. Eee-ooo-eee!

  Too loudly. The sound of stomping feet echoed down the halls.

  “Guards!” hissed Neal. “They hear us —”

  The turban let out a sudden shriek and shot up in the air.

  “Get back here! And shhh!” said Keeah, leaping for it. She grabbed the turban, but it just flew faster, sweeping her up with it all the way to the ceiling.

  “Uh-ohhh!” she cried. The hat spun her around the entire ceiling twice. Then it stopped and hovered in the air, quivering above them. Keeah dangled from the turban by both hands.

  Thomp! Thomp! Four furry, dog-headed guards entered the room.

  “Yikes!” Eric ducked under a display case next to Neal.

  Hoja flew into a corner. “Neal, be the duke!”

  “What?” asked Neal, whirling around. “Me?”

  “Just yell a lot!” cried Max, scurrying to Hoja.

  By the time the guards marched over, Neal was the only one there.

  Shivering, but taki
ng a deep breath, he frowned deeply.

  The guards bowed. “Is everything all right?”

  “Perfect,” he said. “I mean — PERFECT!”

  The guards bowed. “Snorfo!”

  “Bless you,” said Neal.

  Eric whispered up to Neal. “Snorfo is your name!”

  Neal blinked. “And what’s Julie called?”

  “Dumpella,” Eric hissed. “Now get the guards out of here!”

  Seeing Keeah dangling up near the ceiling, Eric wondered how long she could hold on to the turban.

  Neal laughed loudly. “Oh, guards? I’ll stay here while you go to the palace cafeteria and grill me a DROONBURGER!”

  Eric groaned. “Oh, not more food …”

  The guards bowed again. “Yes, Duke Snorfo!”

  “Medium rare,” said Neal.

  “Yes, Duke!” The guards turned.

  “With a side of fries!”

  “Yes, Duke!” The guards marched away.

  “Neal, stop it —” whispered Eric.

  “And a pickle!”

  The guards stopped.

  “No … no …” groaned Eric.

  “But …” said one guard, “but … Duke Snorfo … hates … pickles!”

  “Hates pickles?” Neal snorted. “What kind of nut is he? I mean, am I? I mean — never mind. Hold the pickles!”

  “You … you are not the duke!” the guards barked.

  “No, he’s not the duke!” shrieked a high voice. “Because — I AM THE DUKE!”

  Everyone turned to the museum door where a boy, looking almost exactly like Neal, came stomping into the room.

  “I AM DUKE SNORFO!” he cried out.

  No one moved. Nothing stirred in the large room.

  Until a small piece of paper fluttered all the way down from the ceiling and settled at the duke’s feet.

  Eric glanced up. As Keeah dangled, Quill was wiggling against the pad on her belt, its feather swishing and swatting at the princess’s nose.

  The duke frowned at the paper at his feet, then stooped to pick it up. He read out the words.

  “‘Whispers of doom,’” he said. “Whispers of doom? What in Droon’s name does WHISPERS OF DOOM mean?”

  Eric winced. “Uh-oh …”

  Quill stretched and wiggled in Keeah’s face. Once … twice …

  Clack-clack-clack! At that point, a girl dressed in multicolored capes, with brown hair sticking straight out on either side of her head, and big red hearts painted on her cheeks, wobbled into the room on a pair of tall pink shoes.

  “Dumpella,” said the duke.

  Eric gulped from under the display case. “Julie?”

  The girl leaned back to see under the case. “Eric?”

  “Dumpella!” said the duke.

  “Aaaaa — choooo!” Keeah sneezed suddenly. She and the magical turban fell to the floor, landing together with a soft thump.

  “Guards!” barked the duke.

  “Wooooof!” barked the guards.

  “Run!” cried Hoja, grabbing the turban.

  “Yeah, run!” cried Neal.

  “Into the urns of Parthnoop!” cried Hoja.

  “Yeah, into the urns of — WHAT?”

  Clink-clank! The duke snapped his iron fingers.

  And the dog-headed guards charged.

  The children, Max, and Hoja popped into the magical urns of Parthnoop.

  “Urns of Parthnoop, roll us out of here!” said Hoja. “Please!”

  Instantly — fooom! — the urns tipped over and sped across the floor, knocking down the guards as if they were bowling pins!

  “Woof-woof!” More guards charged in from across the room.

  “Behind us!” cried Neal.

  “In that case,” yelled Hoja, wiggling his turban, “Duke Snorfo and all his guards — freeze!”

  Kweeeek! At once, the guards and the duke froze in their places, as if they were statues.

  The urns rolled to a stop, and the kids slid out.

  Everyone rushed over to Julie.

  Keeah hugged her. “Are you okay?”

  Julie nodded. “Once I get out of these shoes I will be. Oh, but that was weird. I’m so mad at that brother of mine. I mean, of hers. He keeps bossing me around and he’s so snotty to me, I mean to her —”

  “Julie, focus,” said Neal. He pointed to the hall. “In fact, everybody focus. Down the hall. Look!”

  Eric gasped. “Holy cow. The real Dumpella!”

  They turned to see a girl exactly like Julie, from her red cheeks to her pink shoes, tramp loudly into the room and over to the frozen duke.

  “Snorfo, there you are! Well, your great and wonderful dukeyness of Ut, our visitor is finally here, but don’t ask me to tell you his name because when I’m wearing these tight shoes, I can hardly remember my own name —”

  She stopped and stared at the duke. Then she turned to the children. “Wait a second. What’s going on here? Why is my brother all frozen up? And who are all of you? And, you, why are you wearing my clothes and — oh! — my face?”

  Julie took a deep breath. “It’s a long story,” she said. “And I’m sorry I look like you, but we came to Ut to free our friend Hoja. He’s a genie.”

  “We found him okay,” added Eric, “but now we need to find our wizard friend —”

  “Wizard?” said Dumpella. “With all the powers? That’s who’s here now! He’s on his way to the palace to talk to my brother. But, gee, my brother is all so icy….”

  Max jumped. “Galen? My master? Did you see him? Where is he?”

  Dumpella chewed her lip as if she were thinking. Then she tapped her foot. Finally, she shrugged. “Does Galen wear fish fins on his ears —”

  Everyone gasped.

  “Holy komoly!” cried Eric. “Lord Sparr is here?”

  Dumpella jumped. “That’s his name! And, boy, he brought a lot of chubby red men with him. Tell me, is he nice?”

  The floor rumbled, shaking the glass cases.

  “We’re wasting time!” said Hoja. “If Sparr is here, something bad is going on. I must see what I can find out.” Adjusting his turban, he darted out of the room and into the hallway.

  “And I’ll scout for Galen,” said Max, scampering after him.

  “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” asked Dumpella.

  Eric looked at her standing next to Julie and suddenly smiled.

  “Dumpella, it’s complicated. But Sparr is not nice, and he’s in Ut for a reason.” He turned to his friends. “Guys, I know it might sound crazy, but there’s one way to find out why Sparr is here and mess up his plans….”

  “Blast him good?” said Neal. “Zzanng?”

  Eric shook his head. “No. At least not yet. Neal, you and Julie have to be the duke and his sister. You need to meet with Sparr.”

  “What?” said Neal. “Oh, no. No way. You’re right, it does sound crazy. It is crazy. Sparr is, you know … Sparr! He’ll hurt us bad. Really bad. Julie, help us out here —”

  “I don’t know,” said Julie, chewing her lip. “These shoes really hurt. But …” She looked up at Neal’s hair. “I guess a little gel would help.”

  “I have gel!” said Dumpella.

  “Oh, please, no,” he grumbled.

  Keeah laughed. “Neal, if you play your part, Sparr will never know it’s you. We’ll find out why he’s here and be able to trick him for once!”

  “This sounds like fun,” said Dumpella.

  Hoja and Max hustled back from the doorway. “Ninns are marching into the palace. Well, if you want to call it marching. More like clomping. And Sparr is right behind them.”

  “But no Galen,” said Max. “Not yet.”

  “We have a plan,” said Dumpella.

  “Which doesn’t really include you,” said Keeah. “I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe you can, well, hide until we’re done,” said Hoja.

  “Good idea,” said Eric. “Just long enough for us to stop Sparr, find Galen, and be off! Can you do
that?”

  “I guess,” said Dumpella. “There is a secret place I go to when Snorfo gets too loud. I can go there.” She turned.

  “Wait,” said Julie. “Before you go, I have to say that you really shouldn’t let your brother boss you around.”

  “I shouldn’t?” Dumpella said.

  “No. Stand up for yourself. You’re pretty much the duchess of Ut. Make a better home for your people. So that the next time Ut appears in Droon, it will be a nice place to visit.”

  Dumpella chewed her lip for a moment, then her eyes grew wide. “You know, you’re right. Snorfo shouldn’t boss me around. I’ll do it!”

  Julie gave her a hug. “And find better shoes.”

  “Tell me about it!” said Dumpella. “Okay, then, everyone. Good luck!”

  “Thank you,” said Keeah.

  Dumpella clomped off through the halls and was gone.

  Eric carefully pulled the iron glove from the frozen duke. “Come on. I saw costumes in the first room. They’ll help us.”

  Minutes later, the troop gathered under the front archway of the museum. Together, they gazed out onto the sun-baked, blue-tiled square.

  Neal looked exactly like the duke and Julie exactly like Dumpella. Keeah wore the mask with two noses, and Eric was dressed in a giant robe, with a long bushy mustache nearly covering his face.

  It was already late in the afternoon.

  “We have about an hour before Ut goes back into the bottle,” said Keeah. “Let’s hurry.”

  As they made their way across the hot square, Eric glanced at the tiles soaking up the sun. The earth rumbled once again, and he saw tiny cracks appear on the blue tiles in the center.

  Eric … spoke a voice, silently, to him.

  Instantly, he remembered Quill’s words.

  Whispers of doom.

  Silently, he spoke back. Who is that? Who’s there?

  “My gosh, look!” said Julie, pointing.

  In the distance they saw a figure in a blue robe, moving over the roof of a high building overlooking the square.

  “It’s Galen!” yelped Max. “I’d know him anywhere. Galen!”

  The wizard was following a form in white cloth, spinning, whirling ahead of him, drawing him on over the rooftops.