Maximojo and the Wand of Light

by Julianne Bien

  They were cautious untangling their limbs from one another, and gave them a stretch so that they would snap back into place. They scooted on their tummies across the symbols that were carved into the floor’s surface, over to the edge and peered over. “Their eyes readjusted to the gloom. “Kazeees!” one of the Backers said. The echo carried far into the pit.

  Another of the group caught a whiff of something unfamiliar, and raised his snout. As he did he spied a large chest sharing the platform with them. “Look over there,” he said. All eyes shifted to the object. As they stared, the latch on the chest began to glow, and it began to shake and shuffle about. Then, to their surprise, it stood up on one of its corners.

  “It’s moving towards us,” a suspicious miner said, alarmed. “Something must be alive inside.”

  The chest stopped and crashed over onto its side. At the same moment, high above them, the door through which they had entered slammed shut, and the stairs they had fallen down retracted.

  “Kazeees! Now how will we get out of here?” one said.

  The chest began to rattle again. “I think something inside is trying to escape,” another one said.

  A curious miner who had remained looking over the edge said, “Quiet! Listen, can you hear that humming noise?”

  They became still. An eerie noise floated up to them from deep below. Again, they all peered over the side. “I can definitely see something,” one said.

  The eldest Backer looked at the telescope. “I’ve seen Letcho using one like this from the watch post above the mines,” he said. “If Letcho can do it, then so can I.” He felt determined now and scooted over to the telescope and put his eye up to it. “There are a whole lot of strange creatures beneath us,” he said

  He narrowed in on a small gray one who stood out from the massive spotted black ones surrounding it. The big ones had huge curved tusks. Their eyes were set wide apart surrounded by sparse hair that covered wrinkled faces that had never seen the light of the sun.

  “Their legs are all chained together,” he said. “Maybe they are slaves like us.”

  “Do you think they are miners, too?” one asked.

  “They look rather large for miners,” The eldest looked at his own claws.

  “If Kelcius were here he would go and ask,” another said.

  “There has to be another exit out of here,” the eldest said. Several of the group began emitting friendly booms trying to get the attention of the workers below. There was no response.

  They all watched, fascinated by every move the creatures made. The workers were chained together in small teams, so close to one another that there was nearly no space between them. They pushed heavy carts loaded with what appeared to be rock, moving from one plateau to another along steep paths that jutted out from the walls, and then into various caves.

  “With those chains on them, one wrong move and the entire line would fall,” the eldest noted. “They may need us to show them a better way to mine.”

  The large workers trudged along the shaft floor, while the smaller ones balanced on the narrow ledges, and plateaus where caves lined the walls. When they came out of the caves, the carts were empty. Every step appeared planned and precise, for indeed if one of them lost his footing, the rest would fall to the shaft floor beneath them.

  “The carts are unloaded over there, so it might be our way out,” the eldest observed. “Letcho must be on the other side. This must be where he comes when he leaves the guard post.” Then a thought occurred to him. “If those massive movers tell Letcho we are here, he’ll give us a whacking or worse, throw us to the snapheads. It’s better we stay put, I think, while we wait for the others to find us.”

  Everyone agreed, but one of the group caught sight of a cave on the other side of the shaft. A soft light emanated from it. “Kazeees! If we can get inside that hole over there it might lead us to our caves.”

  “But we can’t leap that far,” another said. “We’d fall right into the shaft.”

  The eldest went back to looking through the telescope. The cave’s light illuminated a segregated area below where workers were stomping on crystals, pulverizing them into fine granules. The shimmering piles were then shoveled into sacks, leaving clouds of sparkling dust behind that caught the light and projected little rainbows on the shaft walls. He also noticed that the smallest workers were separated from the others to avoid being trampled, although everyone, no matter its size, had heavy lifting duties.

  He lowered the telescope. “Wait!” he exclaimed. “This must be the other race that the eldest Bender was telling us about.”

  “They’re awfully big,” said another.

  Just then, the chest stood still. Some of the miners, including the eldest at the telescope, left their observations and approached the chest. As they did, it tried to shrink away from them. The eldest could no longer resist his curiosity. He reached up and with a twist of his claw, flung the chest’s lid open. The others scrambled up the sides for a look inside.

  They all stared in amazement at four vessels, each containing a figurine floating in liquid. Upon closer inspection of the figurines, one miner said, “These look kind of familiar!” He reached in and hooked each of the vessels, and tossed them out onto the platform floor. All gathered around. The eldest picked up the vessels and examined them. Each had a diamond plug in the top. With his claw, he popped the plug out of one, blew away the foam, turned it over, and shook it.

  “Seems to be stuck,” he said, peering in to the open end. “This one has a big earless head and a long tail!” He picked up another. “Look at the huge claws on this little one,” he said. Wait till Kelcius sees these things.” The liquid poured onto the floor. The figurines were still jammed in the vessels.

  “Shake them harder,” the others encouraged. The eldest did, and the figures inside plopped out onto the floor. The others roughly passed around the little statuettes. They were made of a tacky clay that softened and became slippery when they were handled. One figurine, which had a white stripe along its back, squirted out of one miner’s grip and rolled away, stopping just before it plunged over the edge of the platform. It let out a faint cry.

  “I tried to warn you!” the statuette said politely, but no one heard. Meanwhile, all the others became intrigued with the whiskered one that wore a belt. It squirmed under their touch. “This one’s a slippery character.” All agreed.

  A determined miner yanked on the figurine’s tail, while another tried to re-sculpt the pointy nose, but it wouldn’t flatten no matter how hard they tried.

  “Let me try!” one said, eager to join in.

  “Like this, twist it the other way!” Another took over, but after every attempt, everything snapped back into place.

  The builder Backer, known for his skill in carving rock into building blocks, twisted the pointy-eared figurine’s head in every direction. “It is pliable with a little effort. But watch, it doesn’t break off whether I turn it this way or pull it all the way back. It just snaps back into shape.”

  “Durable!” They all were impressed. The miners could pulverize a stone in one crunch, but this material could not be crushed. “Kelcius must see this!” the eldest said.

  The miners were startled when an eerie sound echoed up through the shaft.

  “Yawoooop! Yawoooop!”

  “They’ve seen us,” said an observer who had remained peering over the edge, “and they don’t sound happy.”

  ***

  Only the most extravagant affairs took place in the palace. All nobility and the elite throughout the Kingdom were invited. Wind, wood and stringed musical instruments set a fine ambience for the guests. Only the finest chefs were brought in to create the most tantalizing delicacies.

  As the sun set, everyone began arriving, breathtakingly attired. The ladies wore gowns with beaded lace trim that draped along the polished marble foyer, and the men wore classic weave jackets, pleated pants and metallic-rim caps that fit snugly.

  This occasion call
ed for Clarenette to wear a pink gown, accented with pearl drops that ran along its fringes. Statuesque, she created an angelic presence as she gathered her train and elegantly descended the winding staircase. She flashed a smile at the Captain, who was wearing his pink diamond-studded eye patch. He winked back, knowing she had made it from a swatch of fabric from her dress.

  Clarenette stopped and arranged her hairpin, which held the formal display of braids and curls atop her head. The hairpin was a gift from her childhood, and she was never without it. It was made of crystallized meteorite and not only set the fashion trend, but it also had other secret purposes.

  As she floated to the Captain’s side, she passed the hallway mirror. Everyone was so taken by her charm that no one noticed her reflection didn’t appear in the mirror. Clarenette, however, caught Rutland’s beady stare in that very mirror. When she turned around to greet him, no one was there. In fact, he was in far corner of the room deep in conversation. In the next instant, he was standing directly behind her. She turned and the two locked eyes. Both began to laugh at the novelty of it.

  Rutty smiled to himself. “She is mine at last and the Kingdom too.” He straightened his jacket in the mirror.

  “Dinner is served.” It was announced. The guests filed into the dining hall. Golden-gloved servers stood by. The tables were filled with platters of tasty creations to satisfy every pallet, and all were served with a variety of seasonal gushberry wines. The guests awaited the signal from the Captain, who raised a torch and lit the candles to usher in the new-moon affair.

  “Everyone enjoy in the festivities of this special evening,” he announced. “The first of many more to come.”

  “And this will be your last in this Kingdom!” Rutland thought. He clinked a fork against his goblet. “I would like to make the first toast to the Captain and the charming Clarenette.” As he lifted his glass, he flipped on his head and began bouncing on the floor. Rutty was out of control.

  “Something has got a grip on me!” he gulped, bumping into the table, nearly tipping it over. A hushed silence fell over the room. Everyone held their goblets and watched every move. Rutland toppled over onto his back and quickly stood up. But then his nose flattened against his face, and an unseen force flipped him onto his bottom. He ducked his head into his jacket so that the other guests couldn’t see, and pulled on his nose until it stretched back into shape. He struggled again to his feet, but slipped on the spilled wine, and landed on his back.

  By now everyone was convinced he was putting on a show for them, and applauded loudly, cheering him on. “Dance, Rutland! Dance!”

  Rutland was somehow thrown onto the dinner table, sprang up to the fireplace mantel, then dove headfirst onto a chair and stood up. With a huge effort, he ripped open his lapel, gasping for breath. Then he felt something grab him by the backside, pulling at his pants. His face contorted in pain when his head twisted so far around that he could look at everyone behind him.

  “Oh my,” exclaimed one guest, putting a hand over her mouth. “How does he do that?”

  Then Rutland’s head twisted the other way. He put his hands on either side of his head to try to stop it. Inside his jacket, he felt heat rising. Outraged and embarrassed, he thought, “Rats don’t sweat! Rats are tough and cool!” Nonetheless, beads of sweat rolled off his face. He was being made a spectacle of, but by whom? “It must be those intruders that escaped,” he thought. “They will not get away with it, or ever leave this world.”

  He steadied the chair, then vaulted off the wall and flopped onto the floor. He lay there for a moment, panting. Then stood up and bowed, not knowing what else to do.

  “Thank you, thank you,” he said as everyone applauded. “I have many new-moon talents. There may be more to come,” he said, hoping that wasn’t true.

  “Here’s to a brilliant performance!” one guest said, holding his goblet in the air. The crowd cheered, as more bottles were opened.

  “He looked almost like a puppet whose handler was out of control!” another guest said, laughing. “Rutland can’t handle his wine.”

  Unsure if another attack was imminent, Rutland managed a cautious smile for the crowd, and struck a casual pose against a pillar. Some of his features remained distorted, but he hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

  ***

  Outside in the palace gardens, dark clouds had rolled in, dimming the light from the stars that had accented the bush-lined lawn. The deep shadows helped conceal Letcho and the other gang members waiting for further orders from Rutty.

  Letcho was the first to notice something strange. His scales became so hot that he drooled on them to cool himself, but it didn’t help. Scrapsie, who had been resting on the lizzardo’s horn, was nearly burned before he leapt off.

  They both flipped over and rolled around on the lawn, until exhausted, and sprawled out staring at the sky.

  Smelka was occupied behind a bush testing out some improved stink bomb weaponry. She sensed something sneaking up from behind. “Leave me alone, Letcho!” she cried. “You’re asking for trouble from Rutty!” But when she looked, the lizzardo was nowhere around. “Who’s there? Show yourself or I’ll blast you!” No one answered. She began to feel dizzy and feverish. “Everything is in a whirl!” were her last words as she spun, rolling over and over across the lawn. She felt as if she were tumbling into an abyss, and fell into a deep trance.

  Letcho, struggling against an overwhelming drowsiness to keep one eye open, watched her spin across the grounds and come to a stop. “That Skunklen,” he thought. “If it wasn't for her weaponry, she'd be worthless. Don't know why Rutty keeps her around.” Then his scales curled and his colors drained away. He could no longer focus or even hold up his head.

  Scrapsie, also overcome with fatigue, stumbled over and crawled onto Letcho’s horn. They both fell into a deep slumber.

  Chapter 17

  McFee was relaxing in his favorite chair in the study, when he heard a commotion coming from the basement. In an instant, he recognized the shrills of his Mammolias. “That’s coming from the tunnel that leads to the secret mineshaft,” he said. He clutched arms of his chair and rose, as a hooded cape descended upon him. He raced down the stairs to find out why they had raised an alarm.

  The Backers heard a door slam. They turned to discover McFee, his hands on his hips, standing in the entrance to the dimly lit cave that they had been unable to reach.

  “Do not move or you will be destroyed,” he said. “How dare you enter here. Who are you to disturb the Mammolias?” He squinted at them. “Well now, how does a slave slip past Letcho?” He looked at the floor where they stood. “And what have you done to my precious vessels!”

  “Kazeees! He is also big and scary!” The miners panicked and crawled to the edge. One tucked the nearest figurine, a tiny skunklen that had curled into a tight ball, under an arm to later show Kelcius. They linked claws and formed a chain. The eldest gripped the edge of the platform while the others skittered over him, each hanging on to the legs of the one above him. They swung like a rope over to the pillar that supported the platform. Luckily, it was not slick like the platform had been, and they were able to set their claws into it. When they did, the eldest let go of the platform and they all began to descend the pillar.

  McFee’s hood flew off, propelled by his rage. “Trying to escape? Impossible, but I will relish watching you try. I never imagined that you measly miners would become ungrateful, break the rules and roam where you shouldn’t be wandering. I saved your ancestors from destruction, and now you dare to trespass in my secret mountain? That was not wise. You will never again see the comfort of your caves.” He swooped across the shaft, cape flying, and landed on the observatory deck.

  The miners listened as they spiraled down the pillar, picking up speed with every turn on what seemed to be an endless journey. Their claws stirred up a cloud of crystal dust that parted when McFee trained the telescope on them.

  “Yawoooop! Yawoooop!” The Mammolias were sending ou
t alarms as they watched the wiry-haired miners descending. Instinctually they readied to defend the mining shaft, the only place they truly remembered.

  “We should have waited until Kelcius returned to his cave,” one said as they neared the bottom. “We should have stayed away from trouble.” They let go of the pillar and dropped the short distance to the ground.

  McFee’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he reveled in the chaos he was about to create. He crossed two fingers, and some of the Mammolias reared in fright, and began yanking at the chains around their legs attempting to break free.