by H. B. Bolton
“Concentrate! Don’t lose your focus!” shouted Claire.
The car froze in place. Evan tried not to peek over the side, as they were floating really high. The wind kicked up, and Dunkle clamped together his tiny brown vest, shielding his reptilianlike skin.
“Um, Dunkle, this is sort of intense. I’m trying to keep calm. Which direction should I steer the car?” Evan inquired, guiding the car between interwoven glass tunnels.
Dunkle stretched his mangled-looking arm eastward. “Fly this car in a straight line, that way.” Evan did as the imp instructed and carefully rotated their flying automobile. “You might want to go a little faster.”
“Hold on, this might get dicey,” Evan said and pushed their levitating car toward the Great Lake.
Evan felt as if he had stepped inside a brilliantly colored kaleidoscope. He shivered as he passed a few mist-laden gateways. Up ahead, a tropical-looking island rested on billowing clouds. Crystal columns stretched high above the fog. Enormous palm trees swayed back and forth, and a waterfall rushed down a high, glass rock formation and over the side of the cloud. Water droplets trickled down.
The imp shoved his arm in front of Evan’s nose and said, “Aim north-east—that way.”
“Do you mind moving your arm? Actually, if you could scoot far away—that’s it, a little farther.” Evan realized, however, that Dunkle didn’t smell quite so bad now. He leaned toward the imp and sniffed. Odd, Dunkle smelled like a tree, a nicely scented pine.
“Don’t look so surprised,” began Dunkle. “I smell bad only when I am angry or upset or nervous. Normally, I smell like this. All imps take on the odor from the tree under which they were born.” The imp must have been really happy, because the entire area smelled like a Christmas-tree lot.
“There, there! Put the car down on the sand,” Dunkle said and closed his eyes. He then made a high piercing sound, forcing Evan and Claire to grab their ears. The imp swayed from side to side, continuing to screech for at least a minute. It was difficult to concentrate with that ear-perforating noise, but Evan managed to land safely.
“Please, don’t ever do that again,” Evan barked, sticking his finger in his ear, but he still couldn’t stop the ringing.
“Evan, the sand looks like tiny pearls!” Claire shouted. “Dunkle, is it safe to touch?”
“Of course it’s safe,” said Dunkle, leaping over the car door.
Dunkle became a swift blur, his speed undeterminable. With a stick in hand, he tumbled over and across the shimmering sand, making scratches and pushing sand piles around here and there, little sparks flying up in the air. Evan and Claire watched in amusement. The little imp flipped and rolled around, splattering bits of pearlescent sand.
“There,” said Dunkle, standing back to admire his work.
“What were you doing?” Claire asked.
“You will soon see,” Dunkle sang.
“Dunkle, Dunkle!” a second gurgling voice came from some purple bushes.
“Barfel!” Dunkle squealed, scurrying over to meet the other imp. Not that Evan was very familiar with imps, but an imp is what it looked like. This imp’s skin was different than Dunkle’s. It was predominantly burnt-orange with darker brown splotches. He too had a bushy mohawk trailing over his head, but instead of being green, like Dunkle’s, it was red.
The two imps spoke a language consisting of gulps and gurgles. Every so often, Dunkle would motion toward Evan and Claire. After awhile, the orange imp’s face started to sag.
“The sound I made earlier was a call to my dear friend, Barfel,” explained Dunkle. “This is Barfel. And please pronounce it correctly, BAR-fell.”
“Dunkle, why is he here?” Evan questioned. Then, he said quietly to Claire, “The last thing we need is another stinky imp.” At which Claire chuckled.
“Ah-hum,” Dunkle interrupted. “Barfel is going to help us. We will need all the friends we can get. And for the record, his personal aroma is from the tree under which he was born: cedar.”
Chapter Five
SAIL OVER SAND
THE TWO IMPS SCAMPERED OVER and around the large drawing in the sand. Dunkle and Barfel discussed their sketch as if it were a great work of art. Both nodded their heads and made various modifications, and occasionally, Barfel would clap. They ran here and there, grabbing random objects and piling them up in the center of the sketch: driftwood, old rope, they even took Evan’s prize baseball cap. After a minute of this, they turned toward Claire. Dunkle and Barfel made a few more garbled sounds and approached her.
“Make the boat, make the boat!” exclaimed Barfel, bouncing up and down.
“Dunkle is right. You do smell like cedar,” said Evan.
“Ah-hem,” sounded Dunkle. “Claire, your brother was not the only person in Dr. Irving’s lab. If you recall, you were there, too. And the last time the Serpent’s Ring was activated, there were two powers given. One was the power to move objects with the mind: Evan claimed that power. The other was the ability to manipulate matter.”
“Really, I can manipulate matter? Please explain,” said Claire.
“I believe the second power—transfiguration—was given to you, Claire. You should be able to change an object’s form from one thing to another,” Dunkle answered.
“So, if I wanted to, I could turn my sandals into boots?” Claire asked, and Dunkle nodded.
“Try it, try it!” Barfel chimed. “Sandals into boots!”
“Please, just focus on making a boat,” said Dunkle. “You two can play with fashion later.”
“After all that has happened, I guess I’ll believe anything,” said Claire, sounding rather adult in her wisdom. “What do you suggest I do?”
“We need to travel to Asgard by boat,” said Dunkle. “We must use the materials at hand. As you may or may not know, when heated, sand turns into glass. Imagine melting down sand and then molding it into a boat. Now, you will also need to stretch the fabric from Evan’s cap into a sail, and use these old ropes to tether it. The drawing Barfel and I sketched can be used as a guide. Clearly, it is an outline of a ship.”
“What about that stick, over there?” Evan asked.
“Leave it as is; we’ll need it for firewood,” said Dunkle.
“Go on, go on!” Barfel cheered, in a distracting sort of way.
For a second time, Claire looked at her brother. It appeared as if she were saying “Help me!” with her eyes. Evan didn’t know how to help her, so he shrugged his shoulders and motioned toward the imps’ sketch.
“All right, if Evan can fly a car, I can make a boat. I’ll need some serious therapy after all of this,” whispered Claire as she approached the imps’ drawing. “Oh, now I see it. It’s a rough outline of a ship. Okay, here goes nothing.”
She stared down, and suddenly, Evan felt a slight tremor beneath his sneakers. The sand shifted, and in a giant swoop, tiny grains flew into the air. A thick cloud swirled and whirled. From the beach, a mound of pearlescent sand began to take form. Claire’s arms slowly rose and fell, like those of a music conductor, and with each fluid movement, grains of sand molded into the walls of a ship: a Viking ship.
Another blast of sand and a dragon formed into the bow. Its scales etched along the ship’s sides. A mast shot up, and once extended, unrolled into a sail that stretched the ship’s width. The canvas was navy blue, and an image of Jormundgand, the sea serpent, was stitched with the yellow thread from the “M” off Evan’s hat.
“Too cool!” Evan gaped at the marvel arising. “But in all due respect, it doesn’t feel right to have the M from my hat turned into a serpent. The least you could do is change the serpent into a giant M, for Michigan.”
“For the first time, Little Brother, I’ll have to agree with you,” said Claire. She wove her hand through the air as if she were writing with a pencil. The threading from the serpent unraveled and was replaced swiftly by an enormous yellow M.
“Much better,” said Evan.
Claire sank to the ground and tosse
d her hair forward. She knelt down with her arms slumped, gasping for air. This was typical behavior for Evan’s sister, who always was a bit dramatic. He wondered how long she would remain in her bowed position. Another second passed, and Evan gave her a round of applause.
“Great job, Sis!” Evan cheered. “Encore, encore!”
“Funny, Evan,” said Claire, and after lifting her head, she sat back to admire her work. “Whoa.”
“Very nicely done,” said Dunkle. “Remember, you can change only the form of an object. You will not be able to change wood into metal. Wood stays wood. You can only mold it into another shape. Understand?”
“I think so,” said Claire, but she didn’t really sound very certain.
The imps circled the outside of the glass ship, tapping along its bow and stern. They both scuttled onto the vessel, making scratching sounds as they scampered.
“All teasing aside, it’s really cool. I like the fact you made it a Viking ship. Nice,” said Evan, placing his hand on Claire’s shoulder.
“Who knew, right?” said Claire.
The vessel was practically invisible, as it was totally clear. Evan knocked on its side and was shocked to feel its strength. He looked up the high glass wall.
“How are we supposed to climb up there?” said Evan, still appraising Claire’s handiwork.
A few feet away, sand started to shift. Up from a small cloud, a thin string of melted glass appeared. It wove and danced in the air, forming into a set of stairs. It coiled around a few times before stretching up to the side of the ship.
Evan looked over at his sister and stared in wonderment. “Impressive,” he said before ascending.
Slowly, she lifted herself and followed him.
“This is the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen!” declared Evan, running across the deck. After slipping a little, he added, “And slick.”
They would travel in style, no denying it. As Evan’s excitement heightened, he almost forgot they were going to face a giant sea serpent and an angry sea god.
“Now what?” Claire asked Dunkle. “I mean, how exactly are we going to move this ship into the lake?”
Dunkle looked at Evan.
“I’ve got this one, Sis. Just leave it to me,” said Evan brashly. He strode over to the ship’s bow and looked down. They were still on land, quite far from the water. “I know I can do this.”
After taking in a deep breath, he imagined edging forward. And just like that, the ship moved. First, it sliced over sand, making a deep impression behind, and then tiny waves started to lap its bow. Before long, their ship cut through the yellow-orange water, moving rather swiftly.
“We can see through the ship’s bottom,” Evan exclaimed. “Whoa, Claire, the water’s orange.”
“It’s beautiful. Dunkle, why is the water orange?” Claire asked.
“The water is clear,” Dunkle explained. “The ground underneath is fluorescent and its color shines up to the surface.”
“Cool,” said Evan before looking up. “Which way are we heading?”
“Set our course north. We still need to slip through the lavender tunnel, leading us to Asgard,” said Dunkle.
“Tunnel?” said Claire. “I thought we were going to sail through a puff of mist. What sort of tunnel are you talking about?”
“A tunnel made of glass,” said Dunkle. “The tunnel is harmless; I can assure you of that.”
“Just call me Captain Evan,” said Evan, rushing back. “All I need now is my cap.”
Claire knelt down, and to Evan’s amazement, slid her hand right through the deck as if it were soft butter. Then, she molded the doughlike blob into a Viking helmet.
“Way cool,” Evan announced. “But that’s not going to work for me.”
Barfel snapped, “I’ll wear it! I’ll wear it!”
Claire smiled and then waved her hand. Blue stitching unraveled from the sail. It floated in front of Evan and was woven miraculously into a pirate hat.
“You made me a pirate hat? Claire, I’m fourteen not seven.”
“Evan, I’m through with hat-making. We need to move on to more important things—like saving the world.”
“Well, I guess it’ll work,” Evan said before placing the hat upon his head.
He leaned back, hand on rudder, and guided the ship north. The voyage was smooth and easy. Other than the strange tangerine haze, the day was perfect. It had been a long time since his family sailed on Lake Huron. Why couldn’t Family Fun Day include more time on a boat?
Evan turned to see how far they were from shore. “Goodbye,” he said, as the shoreline disappeared from view.
Up ahead, Evan saw a lavender mist. He sat upright and paid close attention. It was a good thing too, since he almost rammed the boat into a purple object that was rising up out of the sea. It rose higher and higher, and as soon as the dragonlike head surfaced, Evan realized it was the statue of the Serpent’s Ring.
The air around the Viking ship became dense and deepened to a darker violet. A light began to glow from deep inside the heart of the large replica of the Serpent’s Ring, and Evan had to shield his eyes. Water rolled, making it difficult for him to steer. The boat rocked from side to side and was tossed forward like a cannonball.
“I take it, this is where the tunnel is,” Evan hollered.
The imps didn’t respond; they were too busy laughing. Evan looked at Claire, whose face was an interesting shade of green.
“Are there any life preservers on this thing?” she hollered above the thundering claps.
“I think you forgot to make them,” teased Evan.
Again, their boat was thrown! This time, it soared through the air before being pulled into a large glass tube. They raced faster and faster through the lavender tunnel until they stopped abruptly. The tube had opened up into a circular area with five more tubes splitting off into different directions.
“Dunkle, what are we supposed to do now?” Evan shouted.
“Steer the ship toward the one on the far right,” said Dunkle.
“Why that one?” Claire asked.
“Because that one will take us to see Dr. Irving,” Dunkle said quite matter-of-factly.
“Dr. Irving’s still alive? Does he live in Asgard?” Evan asked.
“Where else would he be?” Dunkle quipped. “After marrying the goddess Vor, he certainly couldn’t return to your world. Gods and goddesses are not allowed there.”
“He married a goddess?” said Claire, throwing her hands in the air. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Who’s Vor?” Evan asked.
“Vor is the goddess who knows everything about everything,” said Dunkle. “She will know exactly what to do.”
Suddenly, orange water surged up and tossed the boat forward. Quickly, Evan turned the rudder, and the ship practically flew into the far-right tunnel. After swirling around a few more loops, the ship shot out of the tunnel, landing safely on the water’s surface and sliding the length of a football field right up to the shore. Evan stared at his sister. She raised her head and looked around.
Dunkle hopped along the deck, cheering, “We have arrived! What an invigorating ride!”
“Land ho, land ho!” Barfel announced from the top of the mast. He then swung down the pole. “Land ho, land ho!” he sang and did a silly little dance, his red mohawk swaying to and fro.
“Welcome to Asgard,” said Dunkle, a smile consuming his entire face. “I am home.”
Evan scanned Asgard’s shoreline. The ocean was now a nice familiar blue. Enormous mountains jutted into the cloudless turquoise sky, their high peaks covered with snow. Leafy green trees concealed rolling hills. Teeny flecks sparkled and zipped from place to place—resting here, then whizzing there.
Evan scooped up a handful of sparkling sand and allowed it to stream through his fingers. “Is this gold?”
“Yes. Gold dust it is, it is,” said Barfel.
“It will not do you any good here, other than making golden sand cast
les with it. Let us go. We have quite a ways to walk,” Dunkle explained and headed toward the woods.
“Evan, you might want to lose the hat,” Claire said. “I mean, you’ll look kind of silly wearing a pirate hat in front of the professor.”
Evan agreed and threw the hat on board the ship.
Dunkle skipped across the sparkling sand and then dove into a patch of tall wavy grass. A breeze whipped through the blades, strumming enchanting music as they swayed. Dunkle led them into a wooded area. Vibrant leaves drifted from branches, covering their path.
Dunkle stopped abruptly in his tracks and then rushed over to a large tree. He ran his hand up and along lines in the bark, his fingernails scratched between its grooves. Evan and Claire waited with Barfel and watched curiously.
“I believe this is the correct tree,” said Dunkle. “But I had better double check. We would not want to end up at the wrong door.” Dunkle looked down and searched the ground. He spied a rock that looked a lot like a bowling ball. Dunkle hurried over to it. He then rotated his hand above the moss-covered rock and chanted something in another language. Dirt rumbled, as the rock shifted from side to side. It rose from the ground, higher and higher, until it reached the same height as Dunkle, which was only around two feet. Slowly, an area opened. Sand sprayed out as it gagged and sputtered. And then it lifted its eyelids. The rock had a face!
“Ah, Dunkle, it is good to see you again,” said the rock.
“Gynge, it has been ages,” Dunkle exclaimed. “How have you been, old chap?”
“Other than this mess of moss growing down into my eyes, I have been well,” said the rock. “You must be here to see the professor. He will be pleased you have returned.”
“How is the old fellow? It has been awhile since I last saw him,” said Dunkle.
“Too, long,” said the rock, more animation in his expression than before. “Just because you guard the … are uh, on a secret mission, does not mean you cannot visit more often.”
“Gynge, my comrades here know about the Serpent’s Ring,” said Dunkle. He then gave a brief introduction between Evan, Claire, Barfel, and the rock. “That is why we have come. The Serpent’s Ring has been stolen by Aegir.”