Kendra Kandlestar and the Crack in Kazah

by Lee Edward Födi

  “We have to listen in on their meeting,” Kendra announced.

  “Eek! Why?” Oki squealed.

  “There’s something strange about that old woman,” Kendra said. “I think I know her. Besides, it’s not the first time we spied on a meeting.”

  “I know,” Oki said. “And the last time we did, we were forced to go on a long, dangerous quest chasing dragons and Ungers, and—don’t forget—I was turned into an onion.”

  “You were turned into an onion?” Gayla asked. “Well, now we have to spy.”

  “Why?” Oki asked.

  “Because, Eeks,” Gayla said. “I want to see what happens to you next.”

  It took a bit more urging, but eventually Oki led them back down the passageway and through a series of corridors. He had once worked as a messenger mouse for the elders, so he guided them with confidence until at last they arrived before a plain wooden door.

  “Well, here we go again,” he squeaked.

  They crept through the door and found themselves in a tiny alcove. At one end was a thick red curtain; it was the only thing separating them from the meeting chamber.

  “Be very quiet,” Oki warned in a whisper.

  Gayla sneered at the little mouse, but held her tongue. All three of them poked their noses through the curtain and gazed upon the chamber. It was small and rather dimly lit, with seven chairs positioned around a small pool. All the chairs were now filled—save one.

  Then the ladybug stepped forward and announced, “Make way for the Eldest of the Elders.”

  A small door in the far corner of the room opened, and there appeared a tiny, grizzled creature. It was so bent and frail, its fur so patched and white, that it took a moment for Kendra to recognize it as a mouse. With strenuous labor, the feeble creature shuffled to the final remaining chair where a large trumpet-shaped horn was positioned.

  “Fiddle all!” the mouse exclaimed as he put one ear to the horn. “Is this contraption working?”

  “It works, old friend,” the blind sorceress said.

  “It burps?” the mouse asked. “Who’s burping?”

  “No one’s burping,” the sorceress replied. “I said it WORKS. Come closer to the horn.”

  “Let me help,” the ladybug declared, skittering over to the trumpet and sliding it closer to the mouse.

  “He’s deaf as a stone,” Gayla whispered from behind the curtain. “Quite a council we’ve got here. One of the elders can’t see and one of them can’t hear. This is going to be a long meeting.”

  “Fiddle all,” the ancient mouse said. “That’s better. We ought to call in the inventor of this hearing horn and have them make a few adjustments.”

  “In that case, old friend, call yourself,” the blind sorceress remarked. “After all, the inventor of the hearing horn is you.”

  “Ah, yes,” the mouse responded. “How could I forget?”

  “Because you’re older than dirt,” Gayla muttered from their hiding place.

  “Shhh,” Kendra hissed. “You’ll get us caught.”

  But they escaped detection, and the ancient mouse now brought the meeting of the Elders to order. “Welcome, friends,” he greeted, his voice crackling with age. “We have assembled for a grave purpose: to hear the pleas of Shaden Shiverbone and to decide the future of his apprentice.”

  A murmur passed through the elders; Kendra could sense anxiety in the chamber. She scavenged her memory for the name Shaden Shiverbone, but she was sure she had never heard of him.

  “Captain Ibb, call forth our wizard,” the blind elder said.

  The ladybug scurried over to the main chamber doors, swung them open, and escorted a pair of Eens into the circle. The older of the two was dressed in a dark robe and would have seemed quite imposing, if not for the worried expression upon his face. His head was bald, though he had thick sideburns and wild, untamed eyebrows.

  “Look how long his staff is,” Gayla whispered to Kendra and Oki. “He’s not that old; he must be powerful to have such a wand.”

  The second Een, the apprentice, was a boy barely older than Kendra. He had a thick crop of luxurious, golden hair and he was dressed in a tunic of vivid turquoise, a color that matched his startling blue-green eyes. Kendra might have thought him handsome, but he strutted in a way that made him seem arrogant and spoiled, like a prince. Then the boy turned his head so that Kendra could see him from a different angle, and she caught him curling his lip in a sneer that sent a sudden shiver down her braids. She had seen that sneer only once before—but there was no mistaking it.

  “Days of Een!” she murmured. “That boy is Agent Lurk!”

  WE’VE ALL HAD THOSE MOMENTS in our lives when we’ve accidentally broken something precious and beautiful, like a vase or an ornament, and then tried in vain to repair it. For these delicate and fragile things, no amount of glue will ever return them to perfection. And every time we look at their cracks and chips, we will always remember how flawless they once looked.

  This was the very sort of sinking feeling Kendra was now experiencing as she gazed upon Agent Lurk. She was looking at the face of a boy that seemed the shiny beacon of beautiful perfection, while at the same time knowing that it would one day be horribly maimed and disfigured. And it made her feel sick to her stomach.

  Yet, if it made Kendra feel sick, she realized at once that it struck terror in Oki. He began to tremble and it was all Kendra and Gayla could do to clamp their hands over the little mouse’s mouth in order to prevent him from bursting into a fit of eeking.

  “Why is he so worried about that pretty boy?” Gayla asked Kendra in a hushed whisper.

  “He’s not pretty at all in our time,” Kendra replied. “He’s maimed and hideous. And he’s been chasing us.”

  “Mmpheek!” Oki squealed beneath the layer of hands keeping him quiet.

  “Shut your eek-hole, you furry fretter!” Gayla threatened. “We’re going to let go of you now, and you’re going to be quiet! Otherwise, I’ll kick you into that chamber with Golden Boy there.”

  Oki’s eyes grew large as two Eenberry pies and he nodded in understanding. Slowly, Kendra and Gayla let go of him, and they all turned their attention back to the scene in the chamber.

  They had missed all the formal introductions and now caught Master Shiverbone in mid-sentence.

  “I ask for leniency,” the wizard implored, wringing his hands nervously. “True, my apprentice has shown some error in judgment. But his abilities cannot be denied. I have seen him tame a skarm with a mere word.”

  “I have watched this boy,” spoke the hedgehog elder. “And he is powerful. But he is arrogant, too. Such is not the way of an Een wizard; this much you should know, Master Shiverbone.”

  “Three times have you taken him before the ancient tree of Een,” added the blind sorceress. “And three times he has been denied a wand. The tree is wise, Master Shiverbone. In the magic of Een, we must trust.”

  “I can make something of him,” Shaden Shiverbone declared in an impassioned burst. “I know it.”

  “Master Shiverbone, we do not question your devotion,” the mouse, Eldest of the Elders, observed. “You have shown fathomless patience with the boy. Now it is time for him to embark on another path. One that does not involve magic.”

  From her hiding place, Kendra could see Leerlin Lurk turning red. He snarled and his eyes bugged from his face; it looked as if he was trying to swallow a sack of nails. At last the boy could contain his fury no longer. Pushing Master Shiverbone aside, he stepped in front of the Eldest of the Elders and boomed, “How dare you deny me?”

  It wasn’t his rage that surprised Kendra—it was his voice. The Agent Lurk she knew spoke only in hisses, like a snake. But this boy’s voice was as clear and pure as a bell. Whatever injured him destroyed even his throat, Kendra thought with a shudder.

  “How dare you speak in such a tone!?” Captain Ibb growled at Agent Lurk. “This is the Eldest of the Elders that sits before you, one of the greatest Eens in all of his
tory. If not for he and our Mistress,”—here, the bug gestured to the blind sorceress—“then who knows where we might be? They have led Een to its grandest triumph.”

  “Ah, yes—our greatest heroes—one as deaf as a worm, the other as blind as one,” Lurk sneered, glaring first at the mouse and then the old woman. “Pah! I have seen this ‘triumph’ in Shiverbone’s ring. If only we could all be so magnificent!”

  And with that the boy turned and stormed from the chamber, slamming the great doors behind him with such a thunder that Shaden Shiverbone gasped and fell to one knee.

  “What have I done?” he murmured, holding his forehead in one hand. “Forgive me, council. I believed in the boy. But his insolence has grown like a weed.”

  “Do not fret, Master Shiverbone,” the old mouse said in a grave tone. “You are a gifted wizard, perhaps the most gifted Een has ever known. Why, you invented the cloak of shadows, to turn yourself invisible. And you have crafted the Kazah stone, letting us gaze upon the past. You have etched your place in the books of Een history. And the boy shall find his, this I know all too well. I will have word with my friend Choonta Chirpsong; perhaps she can find a place for him in the gardens of . . . .”

  But Kendra didn’t hear the rest, for now she turned from the curtain and looked excitedly at Oki and Gayla. “Master Shiverbone made the Kazah stone?” she wondered out loud. “That means Agent Lurk must have stolen it from him.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gayla asked. “I thought you got it from your master.”

  “I did,” Kendra explained quietly. “But he got it from Lurk . . . but not this Lurk—the deformed one.”

  “But he’s still the same age!” Oki squealed.

  “Don’t you see?” Kendra said in a hushed tone. “Lurk time-traveled; he must have. Days of Een! It’s like one big puzzle. I wish I knew what time we’re in now.”

  “Oh, humdiggle,” Oki fretted. “Don’t think of eggs. Don’t think of eggs!”

  “Give it a rest, Eeks,” Gayla whispered, glancing back through the curtain. “Look, the council is ending.”

  Kendra peered back through the curtain and watched the chamber empty. Soon the only two Eens left were the blind sorceress and the ladybug. Kendra felt like the elder was staring at her again. She closed the curtain quickly and took a step back into the alcove.

  “She’s giving me the creeps,” Kendra said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Gayla nodded. “For once, I’m going to agree.”

  But just as they turned to go, the thick red curtain was thrown open and there stood the ladybug, brandishing his spear. “Halt, in the name of Een!” he commanded.

  “EEK!” Oki shrieked.

  Kendra stared at the point of the ladybug’s spear. She had no doubt that he had the strength and skill to use it. Then she heard a chuckle and looked up to see the old woman hobbling across the chamber, towards them. Blind though she might be, she navigated around the chairs and other would-be obstacles in the chamber with sureness of foot and soon stood right in front of Kendra.

  “Thank you, Captain Ibb,” the sorceress said with a nod at the ladybug. “You have performed your duty with admirable aplomb, as usual.”

  “We didn’t do anything,” Gayla told the elder.

  “To the contrary, my dear,” the blind sorceress tittered happily. “You have done a great many things, a great many things indeed.”

  She looked meaningfully at them with her empty eyes and Kendra couldn’t help but be repulsed. There was nothing natural about those eyes. The irises were white, as if somehow they had been milked of all color, leaving only a ghostly, vacant stare.

  It was enough to send Kendra shuffling behind Gayla, thinking to hide behind her. But the old sorceress reached out and grabbed Kendra by the hand. “Do not flee, child. I need to speak to you.”

  “M-me?” Kendra stammered. The elder’s hand felt cold and frail. Kendra didn’t dare wrench her hand away, worried that such sudden force might snap the old woman’s fingers.

  “Yes, you,” the elder told Kendra. “Captain Ibb will entertain your friends for a moment or two.”

  She spoke a few quiet words to the ladybug and led Kendra across the floor of the council chamber, through a tiny door, and into a small and cozy room with a few odd paintings, a table stacked with books, and two stools. The old woman took a seat and gestured to Kendra to take the other. A pot of steaming tea awaited them, which the blind sorceress served without spilling a drop.

  For the longest time the ancient woman sat with her tea, humming between each sip. Kendra tried to wait patiently, but at last could contain her curiosity no longer and exclaimed, “What do you want with me? Are we waiting for the Eldest of the Elders? Am I in trouble? I didn’t mean to—”

  “Hush, child,” the old woman said, firmly but kindly. “Not so quickly now; you’ll give my head an ache. I forgot how impatient you are!”

  “Oh,” Kendra said. “Do I know you then?”

  “Interesting question,” the elder replied with a cryptic smile. “Do we ever truly know ourselves?”

  Kendra tugged on a braid. The way the sorceress spoke reminded her of Winter Woodsong—she always seemed to answer a question with a question.

  “Perhaps it’s best to say that you don’t know me,” the old woman said eventually. “But I know you.”

  “How can that be?” Kendra asked.

  “Because!” came the reply. “Have you not guessed it? I am you!”

  KENDRA DROPPED HER TEACUP; it would have shattered against the floor, but the sorceress waved her staff and lifted the cup to safety. Kendra stared at the old woman, her mouth agape. “What do you mean?”

  “I am you, one hundred years in the future,” the ancient sorceress explained. “At least I’m whom you might become if everything goes as I remember it.”

  You can certainly imagine Kendra’s shock at this moment. She gazed at the sorceress in wonder, her mind a tumult of thoughts—and yet she knew, without doubt, that the old woman was telling her the truth. Somewhere, beneath all the cracks and wrinkles, Kendra could see her own face. Gayla had brought them to the future, one where she was old and hunched and . . . .

  “Blind,” Kendra blurted out loud. “You’re blind.”

  The elder Kendra laughed. “Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t see,” she said. “Didn’t Uncle Griffinskitch teach us that?”

  “He taught me to see with my mind, while I meditate,” Kendra protested. “That’s different from actually being blind!”

  “Is it now?” the sorceress mused. “Sometimes I wonder.”

  Kendra stared into the old woman’s face—her own face—and felt lost in the maze of ancient wrinkles. Will I ever really be that old? she wondered.

  “I know,” the elder Kendra said, as if reading her thoughts. “It fiddles with the mind, doesn’t it? I imagine this is all just a little overwhelming for you.”

  “Doesn’t it hurt?” Kendra asked.

  “What?” the sorceress asked.

  “To . . . to be so old,” Kendra stammered. “To be blind! Can’t you just fix your eyes? You know, with magic?”

  “I’m afraid there are some things that even magic can’t fix. But do not fret. I am like your Kazah stone. My true power comes in my brokenness.”

  “But . . . but . . . I don’t want to be blind!” Kendra exclaimed.

  “And who says you will?” the old woman asked, leaning forward on her staff, her voice suddenly becoming serious.

  “Because you are,” Kendra said. “This is my future.”

  “Humph,” the sorceress grunted, sounding all too similar to Uncle Griffinskitch. “That is why I wished to speak with you, Kendra, to tell you about the fabric of time. Yes, this could be your future, but it is just one possibility. Any number of things can happen yet in your life, changing our path.”

  “That’s what Oki always worries about,” Kendra murmured—then a realization struck her and caused her to gasp. “Oki!” she exc
laimed. “He’s the . . . the . . . .”

  “Eldest of the Elders,” the sorceress confirmed. “Don’t be so surprised. Why, how many times has he saved us? And, besides, he is older than us—even if only by a little bit.”

  Kendra could suddenly hear Lurk’s words in her mind, the ones he had spoken after they had captured him on the cloud ship: I would rather live in Burdock’s kingdom than by the foolishness of any council of yours. At the time Kendra had thought Lurk was speaking to her—but he wasn’t, Kendra now realized. He had been speaking to Oki.

  “Yes, in this future Oki leads the council of elders—with our help, of course,” the elder Kendra said. “And all is well in the land of Een. Well, for the most part. But it is not guaranteed that it will turn out this way.”

  “It could turn out better?” Kendra asked hopefully. She was still thinking about being blind.

  “Or worse,” the sorceress said gravely. “Many choices lie before you, Kendra. Even as we speak, Leerlin Lurk steals the cloak of shadows and the Kazah stone from Master Shiverbone’s study. You must understand that the ring is not cracked, not in this time. It’s round and pure, without blemish or imperfection. But Leerlin will try to pry forth the power of the ring, so that he might travel back through time. And he will succeed, Kendra, he will succeed—though at a terrible price.”

  “He’s going to be maimed,” Kendra murmured, shuddering even as she thought again of Agent’s Lurk’s hideous face.

  “Indeed,” the sorceress said. “The ring will rupture, and the crack will form. The crack is the key, child. When the ring was perfect, one could merely gaze into the past or the future. But the crack means . . . .”

  “We can actually slip through time,” Kendra said.