Kendra Kandlestar and the Shard From Greeve

by Lee Edward Födi

  “What’s this?” Uncle Griffinskitch asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  Oki was apprenticed to Ratchet Ringtail, a rascally raccoon who considered himself to be an amateur wizard and inventor of extraordinary talent—which meant that he created all sorts of potions, powders, and peculiar devices that rarely worked. One of his most recent inventions was the mood swing. Like so many swings in the Land of Een, this one hung from a tree bough—but what made this swing different was that it was meant to sway the rider according to his or her mood. For example, if you were in a quiet, pensive mood, the swing would rock you gently. If you were in an excitable mood, the swing would send you arching high into the sky. The only problem was that the swing seemed to have moods of its own. Sometimes it didn’t swing at all, or—even worse—it would swing out of control. Little Oki, as Ratchet’s apprentice and hapless test subject, had ended up in the treetops on more than one occasion after testing the mood swing.

  “I just have to work the kinks out,” Ratchet had said at the time, but he said that about all of his so-called inventions.

  Still, Kendra liked Ratchet because he was one of the few who didn’t worry about her. As a matter of fact, he was loyal to a fault.

  “Why are you losing Ratchet?” Kendra asked Oki. “What’s going on?”

  “They’re shutting down our workshop,” Oki squeaked.

  “Who is?” Uncle Griffinskitch demanded.

  “The Een council,” Oki squeaked with a fretful twitch of his tail. “The elders passed a new law while you were away. They’ve made it illegal for any animal in the land of Een to possess anything of magic!”

  “Days of Een!” Uncle Griffinskitch uttered. “I can guess who’s behind this lunacy.”

  “Burdock Brown, no doubt,” Kendra remarked. “Almighty leader of the Council of Elders.”

  “Council of fools, is more like it,” Uncle Griffinskitch added. “They waiver and bow to Burdock’s every whim, as if he were their king instead of their equal.”

  “They seem to pass a new law every minute,” Kendra said.

  “Aye, each as ridiculous as the last,” Uncle Griffinskitch huffed.

  “Burdock hates animals,” Oki said despondently. “We all know that.”

  “But who is he to invent such a rule?” Kendra demanded angrily. “Uncle Griffinskitch, haven’t Een animals always been allowed to use magic?”

  “Aye,” he replied in an annoyed tone. “Since the dawn of Een. Humph!”

  “Well, Burdock and his men are on their way to Ratchet’s workshop,” Oki said. “They’re going to confiscate all of our magical belongings.”

  “Where’s Ratchet?” Kendra asked.

  “He’s there, waiting,” Oki said. “I’m worried, Kendra! I’ve never seen him this upset. I don’t know what he’s going to do when they come! That’s why I came to find you!”

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered, which Kendra knew was the old man’s way of saying: “Come on then; we best hurry!”

  Uncle Griffinskitch hastened down the path; if he was a trickle of molasses, he had now been heated to boiling point. Kendra tucked her wand into her belt, and she and Oki scrambled after the old wizard.

  The crooked stump where Ratchet and Oki lived and worked on their inventions stood on the banks of the River Wink, but before it came in sight, Kendra knew something was wrong. A sharp smell tickled her nostrils, and a moment later their path began to fill with clouds of thick purple smoke.

  “Don’t think of pickles, don’t think of pickles,” little Oki murmured with a cough.

  “What’s this mumbling?” Uncle Griffinskitch asked as he paused to turn and look at the mouse.

  “Trying not to think of pickles helps me forget how frightened I am,” Oki explained. “I used to try not to think of onions, and then I tried turnips.”

  “Why pickles now?” Kendra asked.

  “Ratchet said to try something new,” Oki said meekly.

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered irritably.

  “Where is all this smoke coming from?” Kendra asked, waving at the hazy air with her tiny Een staff.

  “Come—we must press on,” Uncle Griffinskitch urged.

  Gasping and sputtering, the old wizard led them onward through the thickening smoke. They crossed the River Wink by way of the Babbling Bridge (which was coughing so much it was far less chatty than usual) and at last reached the bank where Ratchet’s stump stood. At least, this is where it should have stood. Instead they found the source of the purple smoke, for here a great fire was ablaze, hissing at the clouds with colorful tongues.

  “I don’t get it,” Kendra said, nervously toying with one of her braids. “Where did this fire come from? And where’s Ratchet’s stu—,”

  She didn’t finish her sentence, for at that moment the truth struck her. Ratchet’s stump—and everything in it—was burning to the ground.

  FIRE IS A FRIGHTENING BEAST. It can quickly grow out of control and devour everything in its path. If you have ever seen a really large fire, then you know how terrifying it can be to hear the roaring crackle of wood, to smell the sting of the smoke, to feel the deadly heat of the flames. Imagine now, if you will, how terrifying such a fire would be to the tiny people of Een. For them, the humble flames within your fireplace would seem like a terrible inferno.

  The blaze that now engulfed Ratchet’s home and workshop was even more hazardous, for it was not only burning the raccoon’s stump but all of its enchanted contents as well. Every magical invention that Ratchet had ever hammered out on his workbenches was now being consumed by ravenous flames. Soon to be gone were his time boots, his weather clock, even his many prototypes for the mood swing. Because of this magical fuel, the fire crackled in a rainbow of colors, flaring blue and green and purple and popping with a hiss here and a whoosh there. Every few moments something inside the burning stump would explode, sending a shower of fireworks through what remained of the workshop windows.

  The whole town of Faun’s End appeared to have gathered at the stump (though from a safe distance) to witness this remarkable spectacle. As they approached, Kendra noticed several official-looking Eens strutting about the scene of the fire; these were known as the Een guard (or as Oki called them, “Burdock’s men”). They were captained by the newly appointed Raggart Rinkle, a tall, rakish fellow with a heavy brow and a crop of messy hair. Captain Rinkle relished the power of his role, and upon spotting Uncle Griffinskitch, he immediately marched over to confront the wizard.

  “Oy, stop in your tracks, old man,” Captain Rinkle declared with a jab of his finger. “I have strict orders to keep you away.”

  “How very important of you,” Uncle Griffinskitch said with a grunt. “But we will pass. This stump is the home of my friend, Honest Oki.”

  Captain Rinkle leaned forward and smiled, which was not a pretty sight, since he had but three teeth in his entire mouth and the longest (and most yellow) jutted out like a broken arrowhead. “Well that critter is going to have to find a new home,” he said. “So move along!” As if to make his point, he withdrew a long sword from his belt.

  Uncle Griffinskitch sighed. Then, with a flick of his staff, he muttered something under his breath. For a moment, Captain Rinkle seemed to freeze. Then he looked over his shoulder and said, “Eh, what’s that, Sergeant Shade? I’ll be right there.” And he wandered off, scratching his head.

  “Ah,” Uncle Griffinskitch said with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “It is very good to have a wand back in these ancient hands. Come now—let’s find Ratchet.”

  He barged his way through the crowd, with Kendra and Oki close at his beard. A moment later, they came upon two loyal friends: Professor Bumblebean, the head of the Een library, and Juniper Jinx, the tiny grasshopper who was famous for her mighty strength and even mightier insults.

  “My word!” Professor Bumblebean said when he saw Kendra and her uncle. “It appears you have rejoined us just in time to observe the fiery eradication of Ratchet’s h
umble abode.”

  “What?” Kendra asked, for the professor’s love of big words often confused her.

  “What Bumblebrain is trying to say,” Jinx explained, “is that Burdock Brown and his creepy cronies set Ratchet’s house on fire.”

  “I do say!” the professor declared with an uncomfortable cough. “I do believe you have mistaken my name again, Jinx.”

  “Oh, this is hardly the time for you two to be squabbling,” Kendra said anxiously. “Where is Ratchet?”

  Jinx shrugged. “We haven’t seen him yet.”

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted, and Kendra couldn’t help thinking that it was the type of humph that meant he was worried.

  The old man shuffled through the crowd again, the others following. As they circled the great fire, the grizzly raccoon finally came into view. He was tugging furiously on a bundle of pouches and bottles—and at the other end of this package was none other than Burdock Brown, Een wizard and leader of the Council of Elders. Ratchet looked desperate and frazzled. His fur was tussled and sticking out in all directions and even burnt in some places. His eyes were teary, though whether from crying or from all the smoke, Kendra couldn’t tell.

  As for Burdock Brown, he never painted a pretty portrait, but he looked even worse now, huffing and puffing as he tugged on Ratchet’s parcel amidst the swirling purple smoke that still gushed from the fire. To Kendra, Burdock resembled a fat eggplant with two stick-like legs, a sharp poker of a nose, and a fuzzy black eyebrow that crawled across his forehead like an ugly caterpillar. Just the sight of him made her stomach turn.

  “Thank goodness you’re here!” Ratchet cried when he saw Uncle Griffinskitch. “They’ve burned everything! All my precious inventions! Where are Oki and I supposed to work? Where are we supposed to live?”

  “In the forest!” Burdock grouched. “That’s where critters belong.” He finally succeeded in yanking the bundle away from Ratchet, and the raccoon fell backwards. With a sneer of victory, Burdock raised the bundle in the air as some of his on-looking men cheered.

  “Een animals have a right to live like the rest of Een folk,” Jinx spoke up. “Who are you to go burning Ratchet’s stump, Brownie?”

  “That’s Elder Brown to you,” Burdock snorted. “And I don’t take questions from bugs!”

  “Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch retorted. “Then you can take them from me, Burdock!”

  “Ah, Gregor,” Burdock sneered, as if just noticing the old wizard for the first time. “And just where have you been? Out gallivanting across Een while the rest of us hardworking elders try to get down to the business of protecting our fair land?”

  “Is that what you call this pathetic affair?” Uncle Griffinskitch demanded. “I think you’ve grown too fond of rules, Burdock. Soon we won’t be able to take tea without asking your permission.”

  “The law is the law,” Burdock said. “It doesn’t matter if you agree with it. Simply put, critters aren’t allowed to have magic things anymore.”

  “And that entitles you to burn down Ratchet’s stump?” Kendra asked angrily.

  “You can hold your tongue, Eenling!” Burdock hissed.

  “I’m no Eenling,” Kendra retorted. “I’m twelve now. And an apprentice wizard.”

  “You? A wizard?” Burdock snarled. “Trouble for us all then. Just like your mother.”

  Kendra felt herself trembling with fury. She fingered her tiny Een wand. Oh, how she wished she knew how to use it—she had half a mind to zap Burdock right there and then.

  “Trouble indeed!” Uncle Griffinskitch snorted. “Fine words, coming from you, Burdock. What do you mean by burning down Ratchet’s house?”

  “I don’t have to justify my actions to you,” Burdock growled. “I’m the head of the Een council! But let this be known: that masked rascal wouldn’t give up his goods, as our law required. What else could we do? Captain Rinkle had to smoke him out. It’s not his fault that this critter’s junk is so . . . flammable.”

  “Junk!” Ratchet cried. “What are you calling junk?”

  “For one, this cluster here,” Burdock replied, shaking the bundle he had snatched from the raccoon. “And it needs to go in the fire too.”

  “Not my magic powders!” Ratchet wailed. “Not my Snore Galore! Not my Easy Sneeze! Not my—,”

  “Everything,” Burdock intoned with malicious delight. “By authority of the Council of Elders, if you own it, I have the right to burn it.”

  “That may be the case,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, another twinkle in his eye, “but that bundle of goods you hold, Burdock, is not owned by Ratchet.”

  “It’s not?” Burdock asked.

  “It’s not?” Ratchet echoed.

  “Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered irritably. “Don’t you remember, Ratchet? You sold me this very batch of powders last week. I suppose it’s my own fault for not arranging delivery sooner.”

  Ratchet looked at the old wizard in bewilderment. “What the heck do you want with—OW!”

  “Sorry,” Kendra said, having just directed a sharp kick in the raccoon’s shin. “Can’t you remember anything, Ratchet? Here, I’m Master Griffinskitch’s apprentice now. I’ll look after these wares for him.”

  Before Burdock quite knew what to do, Kendra relieved him of the bundle.

  “Thank you, Kendra,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, though he didn’t dare look away from Burdock.

  “You defy me all too often, Gregor,” Burdock hissed, wagging a bony finger.

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered.

  “Don’t humph me!” Burdock snapped. “I know that you, your critter-loving niece, and the rest of your ragtag crew snuck out of Een earlier this summer. I just can’t figure out how you busted back in. I myself sealed the magic curtain—it’s impossible to break through.”

  “It’s quite the conundrum then, isn’t it?” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If it’s impossible to get through the magic curtain, then I suppose the only logical conclusion is that we didn’t leave Een at all.”

  Burdock glared at Uncle Griffinskitch, fuming. “You think you are so clever,” Burdock scorned. “But I’ve got my eye on you. The next time you try such a stunt, I’ll be there.” He snorted, adjusted the monocle on his long nose, and just before he turned to go, glared at Ratchet. “At least this day has seen the end of your fraudulent magic, you good-for-nothing critter!” Then the hunched and crooked Een turned and skittered away through the crowd, barking orders as he went.

  “Why would you go saving my powders?” Ratchet asked Uncle Griffinskitch. “You don’t like my magic, even if it is flatulent like old Brownie says.”

  “No, not flatulent!” Oki squeaked. “Burdock called your magic fraudulent.”

  “Oh,” Ratchet said. “What’s the difference?”

  “No one wants flatulent magic,” Kendra said, trying to suppress a smirk.

  “Well, yeesh, how do I know?” Ratchet said crossly.

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch interjected. “It doesn’t matter if I like your ridiculous inventions or not, Ratchet; it doesn’t give Burdock the right to go burning you out of stump and home.”

  “Does that mean I can have my powders back?” Ratchet asked hopefully.

  “Certainly not,” Uncle Griffinskitch said.

  “Burdock and his council are serious about their laws,” Professor Bumblebean added. “I do say! If they so much as suspect that you are employing magic, Ratchet, why, I’m sure they’ll imprison you.”

  “At least Oki and I’d have somewhere to live,” Ratchet muttered, kicking at the dirt.

  “You will stay with us,” Uncle Griffinskitch declared, much to Kendra’s surprise. “That way I can keep an eye on you. But stay out from under my beard! And NO touching anything magical. Is that clear?”

  “But what are Oki and I supposed to do?” Ratchet protested. “We have to earn a living, you know.”

  “You could always try inventing without magic,” Kendra suggested.


  “And Eens could grow horns,” Jinx muttered.

  Ratchet was stroking his furry chin, deep in thought. “Maybe if I could have just a little Easy Sneeze, I could—,”

  “HUMPH!” Uncle Griffinskitch snorted—and it was a loud, angry sort of humph, one that everyone knew meant a firm no.

  IN ALL LIKELIHOOD, you are still in school, studying hard and taking exams, and I suspect you will be a student for a while yet. But if you lived in the land of Een, you would be a student of a different sort. For here, in this hidden and magical place, Eens leave the schoolhouse behind at the age of twelve and study a specialized craft under the watchful care of a master.

  So, you see, Kendra had thought her days of book study were over with the coming of her twelfth birthday. But how wrong she was! For now, upon returning to their tiny yew tree house, Uncle Griffinskitch piled book upon book at the doorway to Kendra’s bedroom. There were books of spells and potions, of history and ancient geography, of astronomy and botany. Kendra could not help to groan as the stack of books grew before her eyes.

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted. “Becoming a sorceress is not all waving wands and casting spells. You have to use your acorn,” he said, tapping a crooked finger against his round, bald head. “And in order to do that, you have to study.”

  Kendra nodded. She had spent her childhood sneaking into her uncle’s secret study so that she might gaze upon his books of wonder. That had been a great deal of fun—but it was slightly different now that she had to read the heavy tomes stacked before her. She liked to read, of course, but mostly about ancient myths and fairy tales. She couldn’t imagine a world in which botany could be remotely interesting. Still, if that was what it took to be a wizard, then she would do it.

  “I won’t let you down, Uncle Griffinskitch,” Kendra promised the old man. “Now that we can both use magic, why, we’ll be sure to find Kiro and my parents.”

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered, and it was a scolding type of humph. “You can’t use magic at all yet,” he told her. “It takes great wisdom to employ Een magic. And wisdom, Kendra, does not come so easily. Many seasons may pass before you are able to properly channel the power of your Een staff.”