“We’re close,” the fluff dragon announced. “I’m beginning to recognize things.”
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end,” Glenn declared from his spot on Max’s belt. “Just something to think about.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Puff asked.
Sarah shook her head. “Best not to think about it.”
Puff turned and led the way down a sharp incline. They continued for the better part of an hour, moving through a series of depressions until they came to a small clearing. There, a large, two-story wagon sat unhitched in a field of green grass. The wagon looked a lot like the double-decker buses found in London (Max had seen them on TV), and seemed too big to actually travel through the tree-packed forest. He wondered how it had gotten there. A stovepipe rose from the wagon’s side, its white smoke tinted with the smells of something cooking. Max’s stomach growled in response.
The door swung open and a figure appeared. He had a long white beard, hair that fell past his shoulders, and thick eyebrows that looked like they’d never been trimmed. He was dressed in a green robe and several butterflies spilled out of the doorway behind him.
“Yep, that’s a wizard,” Dirk announced after sizing the man up. “And a good one—evil and butterflies can’t mix.”
The man looked up when he heard Dirk and smiled. Puff approached him with a slight bow. “Please pardon our intrusion. We seek your counsel, great Bellstro.”
Dirk elbowed Max. “See? We’re about to get some quest stuff.”
“Such a motley band of companions,” the man said. His voice was rich and not unlike a bow pulled across musical strings. He turned to Max and regarded him closely. “And now the past has caught up with me, it would seem. The very fabric of this world bends around you, young man.”
Max swallowed. The only fabric that bent around him was usually attached to sweat pants.
“He saved my life,” Puff continued. “I believe this one is good.”
“Yes,” the man said, still staring at Max. “But he is dangerous, too. A blade can cut both ways—the power to save and the power to destroy are often held in the same hand.”
“Oh, I like that one!” Glenn said. “Cuts both ways—I’m going to have to remember that.”
“I’m not interested in cutting anything,” Max said, feeling somehow guilty under the weight of the wizard’s stare. Bellstro grunted, nodding his head.
“Of course you’re not,” he said, turning to Puff and smiling. “My friend, please come in. Bring your companions and take shelter as my guests. All that is mine is yours.”
“Cool!” Dirk announced, bounding forward before Puff could reply. “I could really use a cloak of invisibility. And—oh! Maybe a vorpal blade! Do you have vorpal blades?”
“Dirk!” Max exclaimed as he and the others hurried in after him. “You’ll have to forgive my friend here—he doesn’t know any better.” It was a phrase Max had used often over the course of their lives. “He thinks everything’s a game.”
“There are worse ways to view the world,” Bellstro said with a grin. “Come inside, please. I was about to eat.”
Max’s stomach loudly accepted the invitation.
It may have been the most comfortable room Max had ever been in. He knew he was still inside Bellstro’s wagon, but the space seemed many times larger than what was possible. He was slumped in a large, overstuffed chair, his stomach happily bulging from the six (or was it seven?) bowls of soup he’d eaten. A fire crackled pleasantly in a stone fireplace, and thick rugs were scattered about the floor. An assortment of paintings hung on the walls, showing various views of the Seven Kingdoms.
Sarah had grabbed Dirk by the ear and “volunteered” the pair of them to do the dishes. Meanwhile Dwight had come to the sitting room with Max, standing near a painting of a mountain and studying it closely.
“That’s near Vail’ik—I recognize it. I was born not far from there.”
“Yes,” Bellstro said, rocking in an ornately carved chair while Puff padded around the room and found a spot near the fire. “I have known many from that region over the years. I’ve counted the dwarfs as my friends for some time.”
Dwight seemed to take it in but remained silent. He drifted toward a large sofa and scrambled up to it. “You do make a delicious stew.”
“Kind of you to say so. Every few months, the faeries bring me eleven herbs and spices.”
“Eleven herbs and spices?” Dirk said from the doorway. “Eleven . . . that’s interesting. Very, very interesting. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to Kentucky? Maybe fried up some chicken?”
“Dirk . . . ?” Sarah asked, taking a seat next to Dwight.
Max shook his head. “He has this thing about Kentucky Fried Chicken.”
“It’s not a thing. Take one e from the word ‘eleven’—just one,” Dirk continued. “And you know what you’ve got then?”
“An idiot with the letter e?” Dwight asked.
“No. You’ve got ‘elven’!” Dirk exclaimed. “Elven herbs and spices. Don’t you see? That makes a lot more sense—it takes elven magic to eat food from a bucket.”
“What about popcorn?” Max asked.
“I’m pretty sure I said eleven; didn’t I say eleven?” Bellstro asked, looking confused. “I didn’t even mention elves.”
Dirk had any number of theories, and his belief that Kentucky Fried Chicken was secretly run by elves was just one of them. “Can we talk about something else?” Max pleaded. Dirk nodded and tapped his finger to his forehead, flopping down on the far side of the big sofa.
“Now, do you mind if I see it?” Bellstro asked Max.
“It?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t feel its presence?” Bellstro continued. “I knew of it the very moment you arrived in the Magrus. And I felt it draw nearer as you approached. Why do you think I made so much soup?”
“Show him the book,” Puff said. “It’s okay.”
Max was protective of the Codex, but Bellstro put him at ease (or maybe it was dinner). Either way, he retrieved it from his backpack.
“It’s been a long time since my eyes have gazed upon this,” the wizard said, looking at Max. “I can feel the bond between you and it. Strange . . . but perhaps it’s because you look so much like him.”
“Him?”
“Maximilian Sporazo, your namesake. His blood flows through you, does it not? And yet . . .” Bellstro paused, studying Max.
Suddenly a blue spark shot across the front of the book and zapped Max with an audible SNAP! “Ouch!” he cried as he dropped the book and danced around waving his finger in the air.
“Well, now, isn’t that interesting?” Bellstro said, looking at the Codex on the floor. More blue streaks ran around its surface like lightning.
“Do you know why it’s doing that?” Max asked between clenched teeth.
“This book has traveled through the umbraverse. How peculiar.”
“So what do we do now?”
“There is only one thing to do,” Bellstro continued. “The Codex must be taken to the Wizard’s Tower—to the very room where it was created. There it will return to its former self.”
“That’s all well and good,” Dwight interjected, “but we don’t need the Codex anymore. As I’ve said, we can leave the cursed thing right here and make our way to the Mesoshire. Let’s be done with wizards and magic and go home.”
“Home?” Bellstro replied. “I did not know dwarfs called the Techrus such.”
Dwight scowled, folding his arms. “Not by choice,” he admitted.
“We can’t go home,” Dirk interjected. “Not yet. We made a promise to Obsikar to stop Rezormoor Deaddinger from killing all the dragons.”
“Dreadbringer,” Max corrected.
Bellstro leaned back into his chair, suddenly growing serious. “The dragon king has sent you on an errand to save his family?” He looked down at Puff. “That is why the days grow unnaturally cold.”
&nbs
p; “Dragons’ fire is connected to the Magrus,” Puff said. “If Rezormoor is killing dragons, the world will grow colder.”
“Colder as in ‘a nice drink of water’?” Dirk asked. “Or colder as in ‘locked in a walk-in freezer that you shouldn’t have gone into but you wanted to see what frozen tartar sauce looked like’?”
Bellstro gave Dirk a double take before moving on.
“If Rezormoor succeeds, the Magrus will be destroyed,” the wizard announced. He stroked his beard and watched as the last of the lightning played out on the Codex’s surface. “You must stop him.”
“Epic,” Dirk said as a broad smile grew on his face. “Saving the dragons and the Magrus. Now we’re getting somewhere.” But Max felt the full weight of it, and it showed on his face. Bellstro stood and put his arm around him.
“I have used all but the last of my power to prolong my life,” the wizard said. “Perhaps it was selfish to do so. I often wondered if I could have done more good by engaging in a great cause in the world instead of simply extending my days upon it. I knew Maximilian Sporazo. He was the only arch-sorcerer to have ever lived. He was a good man, despite his demons, and I sense that same strength in you. I know you have your doubts, Max, but you’re here for a reason. You have more strength than you can possibly imagine.”
“Nice,” Dirk proclaimed. “You’ve just been mentored.”
And for a second or two it seemed as if Max might actually believe him. Then a closet door flew open and a skeleton stepped out. Only it wasn’t the smiling kind used as Halloween decorations. This one was yellow and brown and draped in a tattered green cloak. Strands of long white hair fell from its skull in dirty clumps, and it oozed a stench like an open grave. “Give us the book,” came the otherworldly voice hissing between broken teeth.
“A Shadrus necromancer!” Bellstro called. “Protect yourselves!”
The necromancer advanced, grabbing hold of a large wooden beam as it pulled itself forward. Where the skeletal hand made contact with the frame, the wood turned black and began rotting away. The same happened along the floor where the necromancer walked.
“Who sent you?” Bellstro commanded. The power of the wizard’s voice forced the advancing necromancer to pause, and Max had to take several steps backward or risk being knocked down. Even the walls of the wagon creaked and groaned under the weight of Bellstro’s command.
“The Lord of Shadows! The Maelshadow!” The skeleton screeched as it resumed its advance. It raised its head and thousands of tiny shadows erupted from its mouth like a swarm of angry insects. A ringing filled Max’s ears, and he threw his hands over his head and dropped to his knees. The swarm of shadows rose like a wave and crashed into the room. It smelled of disease and decay and everything rotten in the world. Max struggled to breathe, and he could hear Sarah and Dirk coughing as the world grew black and cold around them.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CROSSING OVER
MAX HEARD SCUFFLING AND WHAT sounded like the old wizard trying to hum a note. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that seemed a good idea given the suffocating darkness and otherworldly skeleton. Then Bellstro called out, “Listen to me! You must sing, all of you. Sing any song you know, but do it now!”
Max had been told to sing before: during music class, at school assemblies, even at church. But he’d never been commanded to sing by an ancient wizard fighting the undead. Suddenly Dirk’s voice broke through the darkness: “If I was your boyfriend, I’d never let you go—”
“No!” Bellstro yelled, his voice thundering around the room. “Not Bieber! You’ll only make it stronger!”
A wheezing laugh sounded out, and Max could hear the rattling of the skeleton necromancer’s steady advance. He frantically cleared his mind and began belting out the first song that came to mind: “Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer . . .”
Max heard the skeleton stumble on the wooden floor as if struck.
“Good, good!” Bellstro shouted. “All of you now, keep it up!”
“Here I am,” Dirk belted out with all the enthusiasm of a lead singer in a rock band, “rock you like a hurricane!” Max wouldn’t have been surprised if Dirk was playing air guitar.
And then Sarah jumped in, her voice rising above the others: “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious . . .”
“Yes, YES!” Bellstro yelled. He began vigorously humming his own tune. The room filled with the strange mix of melodies and the skeleton shrieked. Max could hear it thrashing about, crashing into furniture in the dark. They pressed on, their voices growing louder.
There was a final cry from the creature before the room exploded. The dark swarm that had enveloped them flew apart like grains of sand in a windstorm. Pieces of the walls, ceiling, and furniture flew outward until the stars were visible above them.
They were standing in the moonlit clearing, wagon debris falling around them. Bellstro stood with his hands held in front of him as small shafts of light collapsed around his fingers. The wizard stumbled a little, as if the light weighed more than he could bear.
“Max!” Sarah called out, running over to him. “Are you okay?” She turned him around by the shoulders and looked him over.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Max said, blushing. He should have been running over to see if she was okay, not the other way around.
Dwight stepped forward, his battle-axe in his hand. He looked around and frowned. “What in the three realms is going on?”
“There are only two ways to defeat a Shadrus necromancer,” Bellstro said, sounding winded. “With magic such as the Codex possesses, or through a skeleton key.”
“Skeleton key?” Dirk repeated. “Like those magic keys that can open any lock?”
“No,” Bellstro replied. “A key as in ‘note.’ Any skeleton can be undone if you find the right one.”
“That explains the singing,” Sarah said.
“I thought we were just making epic battle music,” Dirk added, sounding a little unhappy about the new information on skeletons.
Sarah turned to Dwight. “So how come I never heard you sing?”
“Dwarfs can only sing in groups and during meals,” Dirk said. “And preferably with a mug in their hands. It’s like a rule or something.” All eyes turned to Dwight as he shrugged.
“Eh, pretty much.”
“No time to dawdle, children,” Bellstro announced. “We’ve damaged the necromancer, but it will return in its shadow form. And I used the last of my magic to protect us from the blast. We must make for the woods.” Max grabbed his backpack and shoved the Codex of Infinite Knowability inside while the others found their scattered packs. They hurried and ran for the forest, Puff galloping alongside (although it was hard to think of a fuzzy, pillow-like dragon galloping).
They flew into the forest, but the wizard tired quickly and they had to slow to a walk. “There isn’t much time, Max,” Bellstro exclaimed between breaths. “There was so much more I wanted to tell you.”
Max nodded, not knowing what to say. It felt like the wizard was saying good-bye. “Why did that skeleton attack us?”
“It is hunting you.”
“But who even knows I’m here?”
Bellstro considered the question for a moment. “Shadrus necromancers were once powerful wizards who bound themselves to the Maelshadow in exchange for power. But after their deaths they remain servants of the Lord of Shadows—or his followers. This does not bode well, I’m afraid.”
“The Lord of Shadows?”
“He—if he can even be called that—is the Maelshadow, the ruler of the Shadrus. A being of immense power.”
“Makes sense,” Dirk added. “Typical evil-overlord type bent on world domination. My guess is you’re going to have to face him in some kind of final battle of good versus evil. But first you’ve got to defeat his champion, and that’s this Rezormoor Shellshaker dude.”
“Dreadbringer,” Puff corrected.
Bellstro looked at Dirk.
“How do you know Rezormoor is in league with the Maelshadow?”
Dirk shrugged. “Game logic.” Bellstro raised an eyebrow but didn’t disagree with Dirk’s assessment.
“So if singing just hurts the skeleton’s body, how do we actually destroy it?” Dwight asked.
“We don’t,” Bellstro said pointedly. “Maybe when I was young and powerful I might have had a chance, but not now. And we don’t have the right weapons.”
“If you can’t beat your enemy by force, dazzle them into submission,” Glenn added from his spot on Max’s belt. “Never underestimate the power of a good dazzling.”
“Uh-huh,” Dwight answered. He turned his attention back to Bellstro. “So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do about this skeleton thing?”
“We can keep fleeing.”
“Unless Max can get his spell-casting mojo back,” Dirk replied. “That would probably do the trick.”
“Not likely,” Max answered.
“The Codex cannot aid you,” Bellstro said, “until you return it to the Wizard’s Tower.”
“Remember we can always bury the cursed thing and make for the Mesoshire,” Dwight reminded them.
“Whatever hunts for the book will hunt for the one who can read it,” Bellstro said, his breath labored. “You can’t hide from your destiny, Max. Abandon the book and the creatures of the shadows will still seek you out. Your only hope is returning it to the Tower and defeating those who wish to use it to their ends.”
Suddenly the groan of a tree sounded as it bent and snapped.
“What was that?” Max exclaimed.
Sarah stepped back and pointed to the ground. “Look!” A black rot was moving through the earth toward them, destroying everything in its path.
“It has found us,” Puff said, sounding defeated.
The rot reached a nearby tree, and they watched as the tree shuddered and split in half, peeling away from itself with a loud groan. Max jumped out of the way as it came crashing down where he’d been standing. All around them, more sounds of trees splitting and falling cut into the night air.
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