by Ed Masessa
Giant cliffs rose all around him. The quaking earth pushed him to the ground. He strained with every ounce of strength he could muster. The Urania Wand had revealed his fate, and he was ready for it.
Not to be contained, pulses of evil energy pushed outward, trying to break through the bond that threatened to crush it. It thrashed and pummeled the uranium shield. Randall sensed a crack beginning to form. If he didn’t act quickly, the shield would splinter and all would be lost.
The battle was at a standstill. He needed something that would give him one last burst of power. Good must triumph over evil.
Good versus evil! He nearly laughed aloud as he realized what was missing. The final ingredient.
With one final gasp, he rose from the ground, ran to the nearest cliff, and rammed the Urania Wand into the rising wall. Waves of green light poured from the face of the cliff at the same time that waves of evil energy suddenly recognized Randall as the source of its obstruction and turned their full fury upon the small boy. He screamed as it ripped at his soul, consuming him in a river of malignant hatred, turning him into a pillar of crimson light.
And at that moment, he blindsided the hatred that consumed the evil with every ounce of love in his heart. It peeled off in layers—his love of the Earth he had sworn to protect, the parents he had lost. His love of Gretchen. And finally the love of the man he thought of as his second father—that crotchety old man who gave his life purpose and believed in him.
The wall cracked ever so slightly, but it was all the edge Randall needed. Every second of his short life passed quickly through his mind, followed by every act of evil possessed by the moonbeams. He willed the uranium shield toward him and it responded like an iron fist. The shield could not separate the boy from the evil that consumed him. It bore down upon the evil and crushed it within its grasp.
And then the valley was no more. A mushroom cloud exploded. Swirling clouds of green and red rose high into the stratosphere beyond the pull of Earth’s gravity, scattering the precious remains of one heroic young man into the infinite cosmos of space.
In the humble room of a hogan, an old Navajo woman served an herbal broth in wooden bowls to five warriors on the brink of exhaustion. There should have been joy—they had won the battle. Instead, they were filled with remorse. Coralis had told them of Randall’s fate.
“He was a hero,” Lois said softly.
“Bahtzen bizzle.” Coralis’s curse had no bite to it. He could not even summon enough emotion to shout. He did not tell them that he had reconnected with Randall and had stayed with him to the very end. He could never tell them how he had let the love flow from his own heart, adding it to that of that brave young lad. His son.
He wanted to tell them that Randall’s sacrifice had been for the greater good. He wanted to tell them that it had been for the best. But he could not find the words. He wasn’t entirely sure he would believe them if he could.
One thing he did believe: He would never forgive himself for his role in these events. It would never have come to this if he hadn’t been so stupid, lazy, and shortsighted. He had failed Randall.
“But you still have me.” Henry sent the thought to Coralis. The old man smiled. “Indeed I do,” he sent back. He stood, brushed the dirt from his coat, and walked out of the hogan. Joseph and Serena followed him.
“Mom?” Henry hung his head, afraid that if he were to look up, the tears he had been holding back would overflow. “What’s going to happen to Dad?”
Lois rushed to his side and embraced him in a loving hug. “Oh, Henry.” She sighed. “I don’t know. But he’s still out there. There’s still hope.” Her body shook with quiet tears, and Henry could not hold his own back any longer. He allowed himself to cry. All the stress, tension, sadness, and joy of the past week were released in waves of tears.
He wept for Randall—that poor falcon he had trapped in his garage so long ago. He wept over what he had done to his sister. He wept for whatever Malachai had done to his father.
When the tears were gone, he felt no better. Brianna curled onto his lap. He picked her up and kissed her on the nose. “I’m so sorry.”
The old Navajo woman looked upon the scene in silence. She said something in her native language and motioned for Henry to hand over his sister. Murmuring so softly that only Brianna could hear, the old woman cradled her in her hands and left the hogan.
“It would appear,” said Lois, “our journey is not yet over.”
“Ach! Not again! Shoo, Sophia! Shoo!” Gretchen ran after the bear, flapping her apron like a matador’s cape. Like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, the four hundred pounds of fur scooted out of the garden and, with great effort, through a hole in the perimeter wall of the castle compound.
Overlooking the drama from high above on a battlement, Coralis bellowed, “You can’t win, you know. That mangy beast eats better than we do.”
“I see.” She squinted into the morning sun. “Well then, perhaps you would like to make your own stew tonight.”
He dismissed her hollow threat with a wave before continuing his walk.
“He seems slightly less grumpy these days,” Henry said to Gretchen as he ran his hand through fresh rosemary to release its aromatic scent. Coralis had insisted that before Henry could begin his apprenticeship in earnest, he needed to immerse himself in the wonders of the natural world—as transcribed by the Wand Masters.
Upon returning to the castle three months earlier, Coralis laid down the ground rules for beginning Henry’s training—all with Gretchen. For the first month, he never caught even the slightest glimpse of the Wand Master. Despite his queries, Gretchen protected the old man like a fox protecting her den of pups. “Someday you will understand,” she said mournfully.
But he did understand. The loss of Randall had taken its toll on Coralis—a two-fisted blow to his self-confidence and his ego. By the second month, the Wand Master appeared just often enough to chastise Henry for falling behind in his studies. Though how Coralis could know how his studies were going baffled him. At times he suspected there were hidden cameras. More than once, Gretchen caught Henry making faces and sticking out his tongue at paintings or at corners of the ceiling.
His time in the garden with Gretchen was his favorite. Her knowledge of plants and herbs was more thorough than any textbook, and had Henry believing she must possess the reincarnated soul of a medieval healer.
The reading assignments, involving books from Coralis’s private collection, were more difficult. While Henry was experienced in using the ulexite translator, he struggled over the meaning of ancient phrases. But he plowed onward, understanding the importance of every shred of knowledge.
Yet more than once, his mind wandered to thoughts of Serena. Henry suspected Coralis had his reasons for leaving her behind, but he couldn’t help feeling that they would benefit from studying side by side. He wondered what she was doing right now …
“That is not a weed, young man,” Gretchen chastised. “Sometimes I don’t know where your head goes.”
“Sorry,” Henry mumbled as he replanted the seedling he’d just torn from the ground.
“Apprentice!” Coralis yelled down. “Report to the dining room at once!”
Thankful for the interruption, Henry rushed to his feet.
He arrived to a meeting already in progress. The first surprise was seeing Lois. “Mom! When did you get here?” He hurried into her arms for a hug and squeezed, nearly lifting her off her feet.
“Oh my! Coralis, have you been sending him to the gym every day?”
“Not hardly. The boy has the energy of a sloth. The only workout he gets is eating, and of that he never tires.”
He motioned for them to be seated. “Recently, I received word from Joseph that there had been a development.”
Henry groaned.
“It is not what you might think,” Coralis said. “It was good news, which your mother has decided to deliver in person.”
Henry thought b
ack. Around the start of his third month at the castle, there were subtle changes in Coralis’s demeanor. The Wand Master began showing up for breakfast. He offered lively conversation and occasionally even harrumphed in between bahtzen bizzles. Henry had assumed a time of mourning had passed and accepted it without question, happy to think the Wand Master might soon take over as his full-time mentor. But perhaps there was more to it.
His eyes roamed the large room and settled on something in the far corner that hadn’t been there this morning. It was an object covered in what appeared to be a bedsheet. A statue, perhaps? Had his mother taken up sculpting? Why would she bring it with her instead of shipping it? The sheet moved ever so slightly. He frowned and looked questioningly at his mother, whose face lit with a teasing smile.
“Bahtzen bizzle! I cannot stand dramatics!” Coralis strode to the corner and whipped off the shroud to reveal two young girls.
“Serena!” Henry rushed forward before skidding to an awkward stop.
“Oh for goodness’ sake, Henry.” Serena closed the gap and wrapped him in a bear hug, which he eagerly returned. His smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Are you here to stay?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes!” she shouted, and hopped in place. “I nagged at Joseph so much he finally gave in.”
“That’s awesome!” Henry gushed. “I can’t wait till you see—”
“Ahem.” The second girl rolled her eyes. She stood with arms crossed over her chest while impatiently tapping her foot. She looked to be about his age. Long auburn hair framed a face that was both familiar and not. She fixed her gaze on Henry, and a mischievous smile tugged its way into the open. With a slight turn of her head and flip of her hair, a streak of blue came into view.
“Brianna?” he whispered in shock. His mother laughed and clapped her hands like a grand play had come to an end. “But . . look at you … you’re … older!”
“Seriously, Henry?” Had her voice changed, or was it just that he hadn’t heard it coming from something other than a hedgehog for so long? “That’s the best you can do? What about beautiful? Effervescent? Dazzling?”
“Vain?” Coralis suggested.
“But how?” As much of the impossible as Henry had seen, this topped all of it.
“The Navajo woman did it,” Lois said joyfully. “She finally managed to restore Brianna. Isn’t it marvelous?”
Henry was still stumped. “She certainly is … older.”
Brianna rolled her eyes. “Okay. You’re hung up on the age thing. Think about it. I was a hedgehog for several months. How many years does a hedgehog age in one human year?” Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Ha-ha! I’ve stumped my brother the nerd! The answer is twelve. So for every month I spent as a hedgehog, I aged one human year.”
“Which means you two are almost the same age!” said Lois. “Isn’t it wonderful? I always wanted twins!”
“No,” Henry said sternly. “It is not wonderful! I’ve ruined her childhood. This is terrible!” The thing was, Henry had actually grown to like being an older brother. Over the course of their adventure together, he felt that, for once in his life, he had done something she could look up to him for and be proud of. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to end.
“You may not like it, young man,” said Coralis, “but there is a threat awaiting all of us. An evil that will make Dai She look like a child with a beach ball. Malachai has resurfaced, and we will need your sister’s help to stop him. The fact that she is older can only serve to benefit our cause.”
“Yes, sir,” he said humbly.
Gretchen burst into the room wheeling a cart laden with fresh-baked bread, delicious cheeses, and succulent fruit. “Ach!” She stopped suddenly at the sight of two more guests. “More mouths to feed. Well, no bother. At least they are old enough to help with the chores.”
“Chores?” Brianna groaned.
“Yeah.” Henry smiled mischievously. “How about that.”
Not long after I began writing, about seventeen years ago, I started to fall in love with what would soon become a full-time hobby. Working in a warehouse, surrounded by children’s books, I read voraciously, my brain devouring aisle after aisle of other people’s stories. And I thought … I can do this! But little did I know what I was getting myself into. I was truly a rookie. I had no style and no voice. I wasn’t sure how to fix it—or if it could be fixed.
Liz Szabla, a long-time friend, recommended I do two things: read Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird and join the SCBWI. Smart woman, that Liz. Entering the world of authors and illustrators who approach their craft with dedicated professionalism has been a life changer. Hearing tales of rejection from people whose works I deeply admire, listening to their revision horror stories, and most of all knowing I wasn’t alone in my struggle to make it work gave me hope.
I have met countless people over the past seventeen years who have left an imprint on my authorial soul—too many to name. I am fortunate to count among my friends and mentors many librarians, reading instructors, and media specialists. Their passion has been contagious. Every writer needs a critique group. Mine was nothing short of exceptional. Brad and Darlyn Kuhn, Marcea Ulster, Jackie Dolomore, Alison Jackson, Laura Murray, Anna Khaki, Angie Greenwood, and Leslie Santamaria. So many thanks for your amazing insight. Lezlie Laws and Mary Ann de Stefano, we should write around town more often. Everyone at SCBWI, but especially my Florida peeps, led by the inimitable Linda Bernfeld—good times, great meetings!
Many thanks to Alan Boyko, leader of the pack, who saw something in that early writing and took a chance on me. Thanks to my incredibly dedicated coworkers all over the country who are in this business for all the right reasons. You are a daily source of inspiration. Great heaps of gratitude to the biggest fixers of all—my agent, Marcia Wernick, and my editor, Nick Eliopulos. Nick, I will never understand how you turn my pile of scraps into an edible feast. And to my wife, Barbara. Writing takes time. Carving out spare time means taking away share time. Your endless patience and steadfast encouragement have been the keys to our success.
Born in nineteen something, Ed Masessa is the second oldest of ten children. He was raised in the small town of Middlesex, New Jersey, where he lived until moving to the sweltering swamp known as Florida. He has undergraduate and graduate degrees from Rutgers University—neither of which pertains to his current job.
Ed has been a child all his life, subscribing to the Chili Davis philosophy that “growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.” Formerly employed as a grease monkey, office cleaner, fast-food manager, forklift operator, truck driver, warehouse supervisor, sales rep, and automotive purchasing manager, he has spent the past nineteen years at Scholastic Book Fairs, where he has devoted his life to finding books that will turn every child into a lifelong reader.
After reading many, many, many books, Ed began to write himself. His second book, The Wandmaker’s Guidebook, had a nine-week run on the New York Times bestseller list, including two weeks at #1. He has also written several works of nonfiction. Scarecrow Magic, his first picture book, received a starred review from Publishers Weekly. Wandmaker is his debut novel.
Copyright © 2016 by Ed Masessa
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Masessa, Ed, author.
Title: Wandmaker / Ed Masessa.
Description: First edi
tion. | New York, NY: Scholastic Inc., 2016. | © 2016 | Summary: Henry Leach the Eighth is descended from a long line of wandmakers, but he still has not managed to make his very first wand do anything—and while he keeps trying he is also having to deal with a bully at school, and even worse, his eight-year-old little sister Brianna who has a positive genius for getting in his way.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015048828 | ISBN 9780545861748 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Magic—Juvenile fiction. | Magic wands—Juvenile fiction. | Brothers and sisters—Juvenile fiction. | Bullying—Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Magic—Fiction. | Magic wands—Fiction. | Brothers and sisters—Fiction. | Bullying—Fiction. | Family life—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.M37345 Wan 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015048828
First edition, May 2016
Cover art © 2016 by Dominic Harman
Cover design by Carol Ly
e-ISBN 978-0-545-86174-8
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