The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill

by Kamilla Reid

  Picklepug lowered his finger. The bar of light that reached across the gateway -the border between challenge and victory- flicked from red to green.

  “Go!”

  “We were thinking of going along Twig Valley.” Lian said long after the Valadors and the five other teams had filtered out of the courtyard to the whistles and cries of fans.

  “You don’t need to yell, son. I’m not deaf!” Skubblenob over-enunciated as if Lian were deaf.

  “Fine. I was just saying that we have given it some thought and decided that the best way would be along the valley where..”

  “What? Speak up, boy!” the old man yelled.

  Lian stomped off.

  They had deviated way too far from their original plans. Seasons had surely changed and still they were Hovering. Just Hovering. Hovering along like turtles…that Hover.

  Ernest Skubblenob was humming the same song. For the last time if Lian had his way.

  Something had to be done. It just had to. Before brains hemorrhaged and someone got….lost…someone old…two old someones, in fact. Really lost. As in, permanently.

  Dwyn averted his eyes and encouraged Hana to speed up, leaving Root to deal with the situation. She cringed at Dwyn and reluctantly moved Stogie up beside the old man. Chesterly was practically blowing out both lungs in effort. And the fallout was toxic. Root was sure birds would stiffen mid-sniff and literally plummet.

  “Uh…Mr. Skubblenob, sir…” she said, trying to hold her breath.

  “Alrightio, my little friendlies. Let’s get a move on it. We’ve got ourselves a race to win!” Skubblenob said and smacked his helmet. When nothing happened, he smacked it again. And once more. And, yes, again.

  Teeth grit and eyes rolled and several ideas for ‘an accident’ were entertained.

  Finally the helmet lit up with a series of pins and pops and eeeee-oooooo-eeeeee’s. The old man carefully brought out the gleaming silver remote and said “HaloEm Quill”

  At once the helmet blinked itself into a lather and squeezed Skubblenob’s head with such gusto that his eyes looked like they were getting too big for their sockets. Root thought it best to intervene.

  …Or…(insert evil thoughts here)…not…?

  But even as she paused for the musing, the helmet relaxed and the remote began to throb from silver to blue.

  “It’s very cold. We’re not close at all.” Skubblenob said and set the remote down on the fossilized mounds that were Chesterly’s shoulders. He fussed with a pair of black gloves that had to have come from a Bulk. By the time he picked the remote back up again, it was chilled white. He pointed it East. The remote balked with a splinter of frost. West. The remote coughed up an icicle. North. A flurry of snowflakes swirled. South. The snow turned to rain. Warmer.

  “South! The HaloEm Quill is south! Let us be off! Come Chesterly!”

  Chesterly gasped and hovered straight on into a tree.

  When Skubblenob returned with a few minor scratches and an assortment of leaves all over his helmet, he was absolutely oblivious to the desperate looks on the faces of his team.

  The days were looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong. Uncountable long. The kind of long that was evidenced in moans and clenched fists and silent inner tantrums. Sun up. Sun down. Sun up. Sun down. Really. Just. Long.

  And there was no opportunity for secret discussions on how to best rid themselves of their guide. Like they could anyhow. Not. For one thing the old man would be utterly heart broken. Seriously, his heart would snap. Even though the rules were clear: they were the ones to make any and all decisions and the guide was merely there as support to this; no one could bare to actually tell him.

  Only once, when Dwyn could no longer stand the slamming attack of Chesterly’s breath, was the subject of Skubblenob’s intrusion actually broached.

  “Get your stupid dog outta my face!” Dwyn had yelled. “And speaking of stupid, your so-called Tempowhatever has got to be the most stupidest thing to have ever come into existence!”

  The Inventor looked at Dwyn with eyes so, so, so pathetically injured that even Root and Lian turned to Dwyn demanding an apology. It wasn’t necessary. Dwyn had instantly regretted it. When the single burgeoning tear in the old man’s eyes finally fell with a great big loud pitying splash Dwyn was already back-pedaling.

  “I mean. Did I say stupid? I meant…ga...lu...pid. Galupid. It’s an Earth word. It means awesome! And your helmet? Why, it’s the…it’s the Galupidest…ever!”

  The old man paused. He lifted his chin to let the word slide in. And then his trembling lips formed into a grateful smile that gave the sun a run for its money.

  Before anyone knew what had happened a group hug came into effect and there was no turning back.

  13

  AND WORSE…

  Even when reality snuck back all too soon, the team couldn’t bare to face the dreaded tear. They were now stuck with the crazy, old inventor and his decaying Hovermutt and worse!- he was now calling everything Galupid! Looking at them with that private joke kind of bonding (“Hey kidlets! Look at that galupid sunset!”) They were seriously doomed.

  Their only consolation was Lian’s travel pack. Truly it was one of the new wonders of the world. Of its most beloved accoutrements the Fire Bombs totally rocked. All that was necessary was pulling one out, striking it on something rough (i.e. Skubblenob’s helmet) and dropping it, at which point a roaring blaze would take over. It was the perfect antidote to the chilly, wet nights that were lingering in the last days of spring.

  During these restful sitting-by-the-fire pit-stops, Skubblenob would make adjustments on his Tempometre. It hadn’t really changed much aside from ‘The Detour’ when Skubblenob had taken them west. They’d ended up at a wall. Literally. A big, stone wall clumped in miles of Virginia Creeper. They blinked and looked at Skubblenob unamusedly while Chesterly coughed up his vital organs. Skubblenob lifted the remote higher and repeated “HaloEm Quill” several times. He pointed it directly at the wall. The remote went blue cold and it was not until he pointed it south again that it returned to normal.

  “South! Our Quill is south! Come Chesterly!” he gently ribbed his Hover awake.

  So, once again they were going south.

  This time the Tempometre led them up along a rough and much disliked mountain trail. Warmer and warmer the remote seemed to be getting as they climbed the mountainside. Even the Valadors began to wonder if perhaps the old man’s invention was accurate after all. When they reached a secluded cave off the trail, the remote was a soft orange color and warm enough for Skubblenob to remove his mitts.

  Chesterly looked like this was indeed it for him. His tongue hung like meat, even collecting the occasional fly. The intensity and interminable length of his hacking made everyone nervous. Not just because of the horrendous sound it made but because they were standing at the mouth of a cave, a notably large cave. And no one had yet determined if it was unoccupied. Surely a hacking, blind, half dead Hovermutt would be like pizza home delivery to a cave dwelling carnivore.

  Once Chesterly was finished…and passed out…the Valadors set to inspect the property.

  “I’ll go with you.” Skubblenob said.

  “No!” all three of them cried out, far too readily. They paused in the wake of the obvious rejection, certain to hear the cracking of the old man’s heart.

  Instead, his deafness clearly in tact, he smiled “Galupid!” and plodded along ahead of them.

  The Hovers (well the ones that were awake) were not pleased about being left behind but were appeased by the arrival of three chunky bones fresh from the travel pack’s refrigeration pocket. Root and Dwyn smiled. Lian never ceased to amaze them.

  The team entered slowly, Dwyn resuming his preference for the lead with Lian and Root clutching each other behind him. Skubblenob tripped up the rear. The cave was dry and dusty and seemed to be lit by soft glowing pinkish rocks all along the walls. It was also very, very quiet.

  “Here Quill, Quill, Quill
…” Dwyn sang.

  “Shshhshsh!” Root said. “What if there’s something in here!”

  “Well, isn’t that the best way to find out?”

  “He’s right.” Lian agreed “It’s best to be loud so that you might scare a beast away.”

  At that moment a roar detonated from farther in the cave and came at them like a speeding train.

  “Duck!”

  They hit the dirt just as a wave of flying bodies swooped and dove and tore out the mouth of the cave. In the light they could see them- Swooping Worms. Thousands of them, blasting toward the sky, temporarily eclipsing the sun.

  The ensuing silence was broken by the familiar warble of Ernest Skubblenob.

  “You kidlets okay? A swarm of Swooping Worms just tore out of the cave.”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. Are you?”

  “Well, I’ve got a bit of arthritis in my left ankle and a small bout of hemorrhoids but aside from that I’m quite fine.”

  “Too much information.” Dwyn groaned as he got to his feet.

  The team went deeper into the cave where more glowing pink rocks aided them with light. Lian, his curiosity always getting the best of him ventured for a closer inspection. He touched the surface of one of the pink rocks. It was hard as was expected. He took a swipe with his finger and licked it. Kind of salty. He lightly tapped and put his ear to the rock.

  The rock tapped back.

  Strange.

  He tapped again. Another tap returned.

  Uh oh.

  “Guys.”

  Before Lian could say anything else Ernest Skubblenob came up from behind, wrapped his bony fingers around the rock and yanked it from the wall.

  “No!” Lian cried too late.

  Skweeee?

  Skweeeeeeeeeeeeee!

  “What’s that?” Root said.

  “I think it’s this rock.” Skubblenob said shaking it up to his ear.

  Lian snatched the rock away praying it had gone unnoticed. “That’s no rock, you lunatic!” Panic crossed his face. “It’s an egg!”

  And then they heard it.

  A piercing shriek that made the hair raise and the heart completely freak out.

  “What the…? What’s that?”

  Lian quickly put the egg back. It skwee’d more urgently.

  The shriek responded with terrifying force.

  “Lian! Isn’t that one of the sounds from your recordings?” Root whispered nervously.

  “Yes.” Lian said and felt himself sweating. “And I’d say we’ve got about twenty seconds to get outta here before the Quog gets here and tears us into shreds.”

  They yanked Skubblenob away from the second rock he was about to pull and ran.

  The shrieks became deafening and this time the eggs joined in, hundreds of them, skweeing and tapping. The Valadors ran as fast as they could but the mouth of the cave seemed to be worlds away. The Quog was gaining on them.

  SKWEEEEE! TAP! TAP,TAP! SKWEEEEEEEEEE! Root’s ears began to ache with the sound.

  Skubblenob had no idea why he was being carried along by his charges. And it didn’t really matter because he tripped and fell and wasn’t being carried along anymore. The team ran back for him and the travel pack that he’d managed to grab on his descent. The same travel pack that was now tangled in his feet. The same travel pack that was now spilling with supplies and putting a quick end to any immediate escape.

  “Skubblenob, let’s go!” Dwyn grabbed him while Lian snatched the travel pack, reluctantly leaving much of its precious contents behind.

  The Quog arrived much sooner than expected. And much fiercer. Its babies were now frenzied with cries. It faced the team, a wispy, phantasmal creature with features sliding in and out of focus, black eyes here, then gone, red eyes, then gone. A mouthful of fangs, a fleshy green, split tongue. All pulsing in and out from shapeless skin the color of blood. Old, dead blood. It rose in the air to prepare for its first attack, an old man scrambling away. Easy prey.

  As the creature moved to strike it suddenly scuffed something that burst into flames and sent it clambering back in fear. It screeched at a pitch that nearly shattered the brain. But it did not move.

  “It’s a Fire Bomb! They fell from the Travel bag!” Dwyn yelled. He found another and struck it. A new fire blazed. The Quog inched back further.

  Within moments the team was lighting every Fire Bomb they could find and when enough were keeping the monster at bay they ran for the light of the cave onto the expectant backs of their Hovers. Even Chesterly had been awoken and was at the ready.

  The Quog’s shrieks seemed to tail them for miles. It was a long time before someone said anything. Naturally, it was Ernest Skubblenob who said “South! The HaloEm Quill is south! Come, Chesterly!”

  Broken heart or not, something had to be done.

  The team was gathering twigs and kindling. And not enjoying it. The good thing was that, with the logs in place at least Root and Dwyn knew how to start a fire magically now. Owing to Lian who’d spent many evenings patiently (and impatiently) teaching them Magic basics, especially the Elements. Unfortunately Levitation didn’t fall under that category. “You need to master the elements first before you can move on to stuff like levitation. Even then, not everybody can do it. Not even I can do the big things, yet.” Lian had said. This was made painfully clear as their arms nearly gave out from the heavy hauling of logs double their size.

  All thanks to Skubblenob. Who was sleeping. Conveniently.

  “We’ve got to get rid of him!” Dwyn said taking an axe to the wood.

  “And how do you propose we do that without killing the guy?” Root knew Dwyn was right but visions of Skubblenob clutching his heart kept her from action.

  “I don’t know. I’m just saying we gotta ditch him or kiss this race goodbye.”

  “Maybe we can leave him a nice letter saying we’ve gone for groceries and would be back soon.” Lian suggested sarcastically.

  “Yeah right! Gone for groceries in the middle of Swampville!” Root looked around in anger. Skubblenob had taken them deeper and deeper into a sludgy mess of slimy trees and scummy, green mud.

  “The Swamps of Koik” according to Road who’d been conspicuously unused so far. The landscape and sounds had become so foreign even Lian couldn’t recognize half the inhabitants, although he did label a very loud and ugly Wartlug, a type of bald bird that seemed to yell at them for sport. When Dwyn had thrown a stick at it, it merely caught it and threw seventeen back.

  Lian teepee’d their gathered wood while Root and Dwyn fought over who would get the chance to light it. Root won out by virtue of doing it before Dwyn noticed.

  They sat on wet, spongy stumps that sunk alarmingly deep into the muddied ground. Everything felt wet, damp and smelled like stagnant old sewer water. Lian opened a pocket of the travel bag and allowed a string of Globes to fly up into the surrounding black branches. He tied the ends and at least enjoyment was found in their twinkling yellow lights. Sleep was another thing altogether. The best word to describe it would be non-existent. Seriously, who can sleep in a swamp?

  Besides Skubblenob.

  And Chesterly.

  Morning was a guess. The sky wouldn’t even give hints. So, they rose when they rose and once again followed Skubblenob’s flashing, vine infested helmet along the sloshing muddy trail. Walking became necessary because the wilted black branches were tangled so closely they were knocked off their Hovers every few seconds.

  To this Lian proudly distributed pairs of Skim Sandals. These were welcome indeed, somehow managing to keep everyone above the watery depths and skimming the surface like mini boats.

  Skubblenob’s remote had returned to a warm orange tinge but this the team had agreed was never to be trusted again.

  That is until it suddenly shook violently and became so hot Skubblenob had to drop it. When he recovered it, the sleek platinum shell was red as a hot coal and vibrating in his mitts.

  “It’s here!” The old man yelped and
thrust the smoking thing forward, taking quick, deliberate steps in its pointed direction.

  The team looked at each other. Could it be? They looked at Skubblenob. He was squealing in delight letting his prized Tempometre lead him to a glorified fate. They looked at each other again.

  Dwyn was the first to run but Root and Lian were hot on his heels. They raced after the inventor, hearts pounding, once more putting their hopeful trust into his flickering garbage can.

  Slipping, sloshing, gooping along…falling, hoping, even laughing, they followed Skubblenob as he led them atop a mush of a pond straight into…

  …a horror they couldn’t even grasp until it was too late.

  14

  THE GLAWERING

  The Swamps of Koik.

  Full blown, pin pricks down the spine, heart collapsing creepy. It took a brave amount of observation before the team realized they were not looking at wax sculptures but real live (at one time at least) bodies forever entombed in the solidified amber of trees. Thick, black, oozing Halloween trees. The same of which had encased thick, oozing resin around animals and insects and -Oh my goodness! - Hilly Punyun and the Pinks.

  Root gasped at the sight. Everyone did. Through the orange-y tinge Hilly Punyun could be seen permanently petrified in a crouch. A perfect ‘o’ shaped her mouth. Her hands were set stiff, held out in vain protection. To her left and right were Pidge and Sharmay. Fear was forever mapped on their faces

  Surrounding the Pinks were insects so large the team was grateful they’d been captured and other strange creatures, mostly rodents and a sickeningly large snake that was entombed in the amber of sixteen trees (Lian counted).

  Skubblenob dropped his remote, not because it was burning right through to his palms but because he realized, for the first time that he’d put his charges in danger. Serious danger.