Who’s missing? Kendra wondered.
But the only other Unger in the room was Trooogul. He was standing behind her, and Kendra now realized that she was being presented to this grotesque assembly of Elders as if she was some sort of trophy.
Much to Kendra’s surprise, the Elders said nothing. They did not even seem to notice her; rather, they stared blankly ahead into the night. When Kendra looked past them, she now noticed a great wall of rock rising up behind them. It was carved with the shape of a mighty face—but it was not any face.
“Why, it’s an Een!” Kendra gasped.
In fact, the carving looked like many of the faces she had seen sculpted into the walls of the Elder Stone, back in her beloved land of Een. This face, here in the Greeven Wastes, towered above the little girl and she could not help but notice that its most prominent feature was its mouth, for it was tall and wide and fitted with long slats of weathered wood that seemed like rough gray teeth, crossed with thick iron braces. It looked like a door—though a strange one indeed, for there was no handle, no knocker, and no apparent way to open it. Then Kendra realized what she was looking at.
“The Door to Unger!” she murmured as quietly as she could, despite her excitement. “We’ve found it.”
Then, with a sudden rocky ripple, the great stone face came alive and began to speak, its stone whiskers and lips moving around its great wooden teeth.
“Welcome to the Door to Unger,” the face intoned. “Come before me, Ungerling, and show me your quarry.”
Trooogul gave Kendra a nudge with one of his mighty claws and she stumbled forward, towards the door. Still the Unger Elders did not move, and Kendra saw Trooogul cast them a nervous glance.
“Show no fear of them,” the door said.
It spoke in a slow, ponderous voice, but one that was laced with a temper, as if it was doing its very best to try and contain a furious rage that bubbled beneath the surface. To Kendra, the door seemed like it might erupt in fury at any moment.
Then Trooogul asked boldly, “Whozum Elders?”
“These are the Keepers of the Door to Unger,” the door responded. “They have pledged their lives to protect me from all who would seek to destroy me. They wait in silence for the night of Greeve, when once a year all prisoners are cast through my maw and into my belly.”
Kendra gave her braids a desperate tug of fear. She looked up at Trooogul, but the young Unger was still gazing upon the Unger Elders.
“Theirs is a vow of silence,” the door said. “They do my bidding alone. To sit on the council of Keepers is a great honor. Maybe you, young Unger, will one day receive such an honor. The fact that you have brought a prize before me makes you worthy.”
Then the door seemed to turn its attention to Kendra. “Ah . . . a young one,” it said, and then, in a more threatening voice: “Raise your hands, beast!”
With a start, Kendra leapt backwards, only to feel Trooogul’s rough claw against her spine. She lifted her hands, palms open, to the door.
“Goooood,” the door droned. “You are clean, pitiful Een. You are worthy for Unger!”
“NOZUM!” came a voice.
Kendra whirled around to see an Unger burst into the stadium, as if in a great panic. He charged down the stairs towards the stage, but now, at last, the Keepers showed signs of life. With surprising quickness, they pounced to their feet and soon had the Unger intruder surrounded, their staffs at the ready.
“What is the meaning of this?!” the door boomed. “Who dares to interrupt the presentation of a prisoner?”
Kendra stared hard at the Unger. Somehow, he seemed familiar. She cast a glance at Trooogul, only to see that all the color had drained from his face. He, too, had recognized this Unger intruder. Then it came to Kendra: The intruder was Creeegun.
What is he doing here? Kendra wondered, but before she had even finished asking herself the question, she knew the answer. Of course, she thought. He brought Uncle Griffinskitch and the others to the door. And now he’s seen me—and he knows I’m the forbidden one. Everything is ruined.
Creeegun pointed a crooked claw at Kendra, murderous hatred in his eyes. “Creeegun comezum to protect doorzum,” he announced, his nostrils flaring with rage. “Protectzum door fromzum traitor!”
The door seemed to consider this news, his face twisting in the rock with a pensive fury. At long last it said, “Speak then, Ungerling. For I do not take kindly to those who would betray me.”
Kendra gulped. In an eerie moment of realization, she suddenly knew why one chair in the council of Keepers was empty. It had belonged to the Unger Oroook, the very beast who had set off this entire chain of events by coming to visit her on that stormy night that now seemed so long ago. That chair had not been long vacated, Kendra knew. The other Keepers had killed Oroook, and had yet to replace him on their council.
The Keepers now lowered their staffs and allowed Creeegun to approach the door.
“Eenee thatzum stand herezum is forbidden onezum,” Creeegun accused. “Eeneez marked with starzum!”
“Unger talkzum nonsense,” Trooogul spoke up angrily. “Keepers seezum hand! Therezum no mark.”
“A trick?” the door wondered. “Keepers—look upon her hands again!”
The Unger Keepers moved forward and struck Kendra with their staffs, forcing her to show her hands once again. Kendra gulped again, and closed her eyes tightly. She prayed that Effryn’s ointment would stand their scrutiny. But the Keepers studied her palms for only a moment. Then, all six turned to the Door and shook their heads.
“No mark!” the door bellowed. “Tell me, young Creeegun, what possesses you to spread such a tale?”
Creeegun, however, seemed too confused to answer. He stared at Kendra, his gray brow knotted in bewilderment.
“Creeegun no wantzum sharezum honor,” Trooogul said to the door. “Thatzum why Creeegun tellzum wild liezum.”
“Ah! A seeker of glory, is it?” the door asked. “Shame on you, Creeegun! Many Eens have you brought to me on the eve of our dark festival. Relished in this honor long you should have, and not begrudged your fellow Unger his one measly Een child that he would present before me.”
“Butzum—”
“There is no ‘but’!” the door cried. “Keepers! Take this sorry Unger from my sight! He shall not witness the festival of Greeve!”
“No! Pleazum!” Creeegun moaned, but at once the Keepers began beating him with their staffs. Creeegun cast one final perplexed glance at Kendra. Then, he lowered his head in shame and scampered out of the stadium.
Kendra let out a sigh of relief. So far, so good, she thought.
“Now,” the door said, the satisfaction clear in its tone, “back to our business at hand. Trooogul, go make yourself merry. Feast and prepare for the festival of Greeve. Keepers, take this disgusting Een and cast her into the dungeon. Tomorrow, she shall know Unger!”
At this command, one of the Keepers reached out and, grabbing Kendra by her long braids, lifted her from the ground and carried her away. She kicked her legs and cried in pain (for it hurt to be carried so), but the Keeper showed no reaction. He lumbered through a series of dark and winding passageways until he came to a small door set within the rocks. With a flick of his claw he struck some lever in the wall and the door sprang open. Brusquely, he tossed her inside and the door slammed shut behind her.
Inside the chamber was black as a hole, but even though Kendra couldn’t see a thing, she immediately knew she was not alone. She could hear rustling in the dark. Someone—or something—was alive in there.
KENDRA REACHED OUT into the darkness, groping to find her way around the dungeon cell. “Hello?” she asked meekly.
“Eek!” a voice replied. “Who is it?”
“Oki!” Kendra cried. “Is that you?”
She rushed blindly into the darkness and soon found the small gray mouse in her arms. She embraced him tightly, crying with joy. Then she heard other voices and the patter of feet; in the next minute, she fo
und herself happily swarmed by her old friends.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness their shapes took form and now she could see just how badly they had suffered from their long journey to the Greeven Wastes. Oki and Ratchet looked scraggly and battered, while one of Jinx’s antennae was bent nearly half, and Professor Bumblebean’s spectacles sported a crooked crack. But none looked worse than old Uncle Griffinskitch. His skin was pale, his eyes were dull, and his beard seemed a tangled mess of white hair.
The only thing he had not lost, it seemed, was his grumpiness, for upon seeing Kendra he said, “Just what in the name of Een are you doing here, child?”
“Why, I came to rescue you, of course,” Kendra said.
Uncle Griffinskitch raised an eyebrow at her. “Humph,” he muttered. “Marvelous work.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you, at least,” Kendra retorted.
“I wish I could say the same!” the old man reproached her, waving a stern finger in her direction.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Kendra demanded.
“It means the only thing that has kept me going all this while was the knowledge that you weren’t with us!” Uncle Griffinskitch growled. “I thought you were safe.”
“I am safe,” Kendra declared.
“Uh, Kendra,” Oki said. “You realize we’re in a dungeon, right? In the middle of the Greeven Wastes?”
“He’s right,” Ratchet added. “You didn’t bump your head or something, did you?”
“Of course not!” Kendra said. “Don’t you understand? This is all just a trick! The Ungers don’t want me here. I snuck in!”
“My word!” Professor Bumblebean exclaimed, pushing his glasses up the slope of his nose. “Do you mean to say you willingly conducted this expedition to the Greeven Wastes?”
Kendra nodded. “Trooogul helped me.”
“Days of Een!” Uncle Griffinskitch boomed. “That Unger, you mean?”
“Yes,” Kendra said, and she went on to tell them the whole story, explaining how she had escaped the Mines of Umbor with Trooogul’s help, how she had found Kiro’s compass, and how Effryn had helped them sneak into the Greeven Wastes.
The news about Kendra’s brother seemed too much for Uncle Griffinskitch to bear. Kendra passed him the tarnished compass and the old Een sat down on a small stone to gaze sadly upon it. “He wanted to be an explorer, that boy,” Uncle Griffinskitch murmured softly. “It’s all he ever talked about. This compass was meant to keep him from getting lost. Aye, but it did not work. He’s been lost to me for nearly twelve years.”
“Now we can find him!” Kendra urged, grabbing her uncle’s arm. “Don’t you see? Kiro was brought to the Greeven Wastes. This compass proves it! He lost it on the way.”
“What does it matter now?” the old wizard asked sadly.
“The door is the key to this whole mystery,” Kendra declared. “Kiro went through that door and now I’m going to go through it to. Except I’m going to destroy it—just like the prophecy said. I’ll find out what happened to our family, Uncle Griffinskitch. I’ll get us all out of here.””
“If you really wanted to get us out of here, you just should have brought a sword or two,” Jinx declared. “Then I could have slashed our way out of this miserable dump.”
“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered, but it was a humph filled more with sorrow than with anger. “Listen,” he said, looking at Kendra. “I don’t trust this Unger prophecy. In fact, I don’t trust Ungers.”
“You trusted Oroook enough for us to go on this journey,” Kendra pointed out.
“Indeed!” the old wizard grumbled. “And now look what has become of us. It was my hope that we could find the door and choose what to do next. But now we have no choice. We shall be tossed through it whether we want to or not.”
“Trooogul and I’ve got everything under control,” Kendra said. “You’ll see.”
“I don’t want to see!” Uncle Griffinskitch declared hotly. “How many people must I lose to these dreadful Ungers! They’ve taken my whole family, everyone except you, Kendra. And yet, here you are; now they’ve taken you, too.”
“It’s not like that,” Kendra persisted. “You’re not listening. Trooogul didn’t take me . . . he’s helping me.”
“But Kendra!” Professor Bumblebean exclaimed. “How can you trust this . . . this . . . this . . . monster?!”
“Are you sure he just didn’t trick you to come here?” Oki asked Kendra. “Maybe it was just his way of getting you to go through the door.”
Uncle Griffinskitch shook his weary head and clutched Kiro’s compass to his breast. “I’m afraid this door will be the doom of us all,” he murmured.
Kendra stared glumly at her friends. She knew they didn’t trust Trooogul—or any Unger. How could they? After being carried across the Greeven Wastes by Creeegun and his cohorts, it was only natural that their hatred and fear of Ungers had grown. But they didn’t know Trooogul, not like she did.
He didn’t betray me, Kendra told herself, toying worriedly with her braids. But as she settled down for a cold and dismal night, a tiny niggling doubt whispered in her mind. She remembered how strangely Trooogul had acted in the underwater cave; he had known that the cave existed and yet at the same time claimed to know nothing of her brother. She thought about how sad he had seemed carrying her across the Greeven Wastes. It was almost as if he had been grappling with some great dilemma. Did he know she was going to her doom, and was feeling bad about it, somehow?
Kendra let out a long sigh. There was only one thing she knew for sure, and that was this: tomorrow was the first moon of summer, and one way or the other, the truth would then be revealed.
By the time the Unger guards came the next day to retrieve Kendra and her companions, the sun was already sinking into the western horizon. They were made to march in line through the catacombs of the dungeons and up to the stadium. Uncle Griffinskitch was at the head of this sad procession, followed in order by Professor Bumblebean, Jinx, Ratchet, Oki, and, last of all, Kendra. During this short journey, they could hear the hustle and bustle of the place, for it seemed as if every creature from the four corners of the known world had gathered in the stadium to witness the spectacle of their entry through the door.
As they were ushered down the steps of the arena and onto the stage before the door, Kendra cast her eyes upon the great throng of monsters in the stands. It was like looking upon a plague of claws and fangs and horns, for the beasts were crawling and skittering over top each other in a great thrill of anticipation. Their eyes gleamed in the fading light, and the theatre vibrated with their snorts and growls and exuberant jeers. Most of them were Ungers, but Kendra could also see other beasts too: Goojuns, Izzards, and the rest. She scanned the horde for any sign of Trooogul, but there were so many creatures it was impossible to pick him out. But Kendra knew he was up there. She knew he was watching.
Looking upon this great swarm monsters, Kendra could not help being reminded of the mines of Umbor, when she had set free such creatures from Pugglemud’s gloomy dungeons. But such an act had not garnered any blessings from this swarm. They cared not that she had saved them from slavery; on the contrary, they now seemed to salivate at the thought of watching her march to her own dismal fate. Ah, it is a hard lesson for any of us; to realize that a deed performed will not necessarily be reciprocated in the way we might wish.
Kendra turned her attention to the Door to Unger. It glared down at its prisoners with glee, but for the time being, it said nothing. Standing before the door were the six Keepers, but of course, they too were silent.
“W-what’s going to happen now?” squeaked Oki, looking over his shoulder at Kendra.
“I don’t know,” Kendra admitted. “But stay close, little one. I’ll look after you.”
“We’ll look after each other,” Oki added with a brave but quivering voice.
They waited there, standing uncomfortably before the mob of monsters. Then they heard a screa
m—a different type of scream, one not belonging to any of the dreadful creatures in the audience. Kendra turned her head and saw an Unger guard lumbering onto the stage; in one of his giant claws, he was holding a pitiful creature by the tail. It was this creature that had emitted the scream.
“That’s a strange looking fellow,” Ratchet declared.
“Why, it’s Effryn!” Kendra exclaimed. It wasn’t the first time she had seen the kicking little goat-like creature hanging upside down.
“Findzum little Faunee on outskirtsee of wastezum,” the guard announced, throwing Effryn down before the door.
“Gooood,” the door intoned. “And what shall we do with the wretched thing?”
At this question the monstrous crowd erupted with suggestions.
“Killzum!”
“Squishee!”
“Throwzee inzum door!”
At this last proposition a malicious smile stretched widely across the wooden teeth of the door. “Excellent,” he uttered. “The Faun will know Unger!”
“Wait!” Effryn howled, and Kendra could see that the strange creature was desperately frightened. He was pouring with sweat, and trembling from hoof to horn. “I have a deal for you!”
“A deal?” the door bellowed. “What deal could a sniveling ball of wool have for the great and mighty Door to Unger?!”
“It’s Eens you want, isn’t it?” Effryn asked. “Why, I can give them to you. A whole lot of them! You can knot my knuckle hair otherwise!”
“Effryn, NO!” Kendra screamed, suddenly realizing what the Faun was trying to do.
“I have the secret to the magic curtain!” Effryn told the door feverishly. “I’ll give it to you, or I’ll be shorn.”
“Days of Een!” Uncle Griffinskitch cried.
“SILENCE!” the door roared, and the whole stadium seemed to come to a quiet halt. For the next few moments, the door seemed to consider Effryn’s offer with interest, his great rocky brow wrinkling above his eyes. “Show it to me,” he said at last. “Show me the secret.”
Kendra Kandlestar and the Door to Unger Page 14