The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2)

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The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 3

by Valya Boutenko


  “You don’t?” asked Wendell in surprise. “Then why are we building it?”

  “Well,” said Master Dellwen, “I am going to steal them.”

  “To steal them?” asked Wendell in shock.

  “Yes,” replied Master Dellwen. “And you are going to help me.”

  “I will do no such thing!” cried Wendell.

  “You see,” began Master Dellwen, thoughtfully leaning on his staff, “ethics are complex. It is not just clear cut good and bad.” He waved his hand this way and that as he explained. “Some would say that stealing is always wrong, but sometimes it is the only right thing to do.”

  “What do you mean? How can stealing ever be right?” asked Wendell in alarm.

  “Tonight there will be a fire in the village,” said Master Dellwen. “The people will burn down the wizarding library. Many precious texts for which there are no duplicates will be forever lost.”

  “How do you know there will be a fire?” asked Wendell.

  “When the people are angry it is not difficult to predict what they will do.”

  “Then we must leave at once! We have a library to steal!” said Wendell.

  “We certainly do!” exclaimed Master Dellwen with a smile. He handed Wendell a giant burlap sack. Wendell took it and slung it over his shoulder.

  “We must be very careful, and make absolute certain that we are not seen,” cautioned the older wizard.

  Wendell nodded, understanding that Master Dellwen was delicately implying that they would be risking their lives to save the books. Together, they set off along the sandy riverbed in the direction of the village. As they walked, Master Dellwen filled Wendell in on the details of the situation.

  “As you know, not all of the Sapphire Kingdom was covered by the protection spell your teacher so thoughtfully cast yesterday,” explained Master Dellwen. “And it just so happens that the old library is not under the protection of the magical dome capping the city.”

  Wendell felt as though he could cry. He wondered how much Master Dellwen knew about the recent events surrounding the Pillar of Dominance, and if he would turn away from his new apprentice in disgust when he found out the truth.

  “Wizard folk have become mighty unpopular of late, but that does not mean our skills are no longer required. On the contrary, we must put forth all our efforts to helping the people of Windiffera find a way to live in the new world.”

  Wendell was silent, trying hard to figure out how he would keep his secret.

  “Unfortunately the other wizards of the first order whose job it is to assist the King are all with the royal family within the dome. For this reason we are not to count on or expect any help with the task at hand,” Master Dellwen went on.

  They came to the end of the riverbed and barreled on through the forest. “We will have to cut a path here in the future,” said Master Dellwen, struggling to wrestle his robes free of a spiky bramble.

  It was getting very dark indeed, and they walked on in the purple light of the crystal nestled at the top of Master Dellwen’s walking staff. At last, they reached the edge of the forest. Master Dellwen signaled for Wendell to stop, and the boy froze beside him. The two of them looked out upon the small village square. The grocery shop directly in front of them was adjacent to the library. At the back of the grocery shop was a heavy metal door that led to what appeared to be the cellar. Master Dellwen looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear. The street was dark and vacant. “Now!” he whispered.

  They leaped from the forest and ran to the cellar door. Wendell ripped it open and Master Dellwen rushed down the damp steps holding his robes with one hand and lighting the way with the crystal in his staff. Wendell ducked down after him, making sure to close the metal door softly behind him. They moved through the cool, dark cellar among the many shelves of cheese, fruit preserves, and other edible goods, until they reached a tall shelf on the far wall. The sturdy shelf was heavily laden with produce, and had four iron claw feet at the bottom.

  “I do love a good claw-foot piece of furniture,” said Master Dellwen. He whispered an incantation, and the shelf suddenly wiggled its toes and tiptoed out of their way.

  “On the other side of this wall is the library,” said Master Dellwen, indicating to the white stucco wall before them.

  Wendell’s hands began to glow.

  “Allow me,” interrupted Master Dellwen. “Glodwen-Alfin-eya!” muttered the old man, and the bricks sunk into the wall forming a wide archway. The wizard threw some blue powder at the archway, which he had retrieved from his robes, and an iron door manifested itself inside the archway on thick metal hinges. The door was painted blue.

  “Nice work,” said Wendell, appreciating the artistry with which the master wizard created the entrance. The door looked like it had been there forever, perfectly matching their surroundings. “Even the shop keeper will wonder if it hadn’t been here before.”

  “After you,” said Master Dellwen, indicating to the doorknob.

  Wendell twisted the bronze handle and stepped into a dusty squat room filled with scrolls and old books. The smell of aged ink and parchment permeated the air. Many of the books had tiny light rays emanating from their tightly closed pages, and several were locked in places with gem-studded latches. Some of the books were large and had precious stones embedded into their ornate covers, while other books were quite small and plain with worn leather covers and silk stitched bindings.

  “Quickly now,” whispered Master Dellwen, “move as many as you can to the cellar.” Wendell picked up a tall stack of books and carried it to the back of the damp basement. He placed the books on the floor and rushed back for more. He had made only a few trips when a rock came flying through one of the library windows. Glass shards fell from the windowpane and smashed against the stone floor in a clinking crash. Wendell could see a mob gathering outside through the milky windows.

  “We must hurry!” urged Master Dellwen.

  Wendell shoveled an entire shelf of books into his arms and rushed them to the cellar. He tore back to the library for another armful. Master Dellwen emptied three containers of scrolls into his duffle bag. He heaved the bag into the cellar. They had moved about half of the books from the library when the first torch came flying through the window. It rolled several feet on the dry wooden floorboards before coming to a stop. The flames took immediately, but Wendell managed to stamp them out. He rushed to save the books as the shouts of the villagers grew louder and louder outside. A second torch was thrown through the window and not long after that, a third. This time the flames spread too quickly to be put out. The building was slowly starting to burn around them, but the two wizards continued working hard to carry the books out. Wendell grabbed a burning book and put out the flames against his own shirt. When he pulled the book away there was a singe mark on his shirt and several smoldering holes. He shoved the book into his bag, which was now filled to the brim. Master Dellwen helped him move the heavy bag into the cellar with the rest of the books they had rescued. Wendell’s heart was racing. He felt they were moving too slowly. The young wizard coughed on the smoke. A quarter of the books still remained on the shelves in the library when the air grew dangerously hot and the flames began to grab at the wizards clothes in great yellow arches of roaring fire. The walls ablaze around him, Wendell rushed to retrieve what he could.

  “Leave the rest!” commanded Master Dellwen.

  “No!” resisted Wendell. “We must save them all!”

  “We cannot!” warned Master Dellwen “We must focus on saving what we have collected or we will have toiled in vein!”

  Warren dove past him into the fiery building once more.

  “Wendell, wait!” shouted the man.

  The boy pressed the sleeve of his shirt to his mouth and looked wildly around. There was time to save one last book. Squinting in the heat of the orange flames, he saw the one he wanted. It shined in silver on the top shelf before him. Wendell had noticed it before, and he knew it was th
e one he was meant to save. He yanked it down and ran coughing to the cellar through the burning library just as the first of the burning beams began to fall. Wendell leaped through the doorway, and Master Dellwen rushed to close the door behind him.

  “I can save more, let me back in there!” demanded Wendell.

  “No,” said Master Dellwen.

  “But the ancient knowledge will be lost forever!”

  “Some of it will be lost,” said Master Dellwen, “and some of it perhaps we may rediscover.”

  “How can people do this?” cried Wendell. “Don’t they know they will need magic tomorrow? How are they to restore their world without it?”

  “They will find a way to survive.”

  “We must do something, we cannot just let the books burn like this!”

  “We have saved all we can,” replied Master Dellwen calmly. “Now, let us transport these treasures.” The wizard began to tie the strings of his burlap sack.

  “Isn’t there a spell we can use or something?”

  Master Dellwen gave him a stern look. Wendell glanced down at his own bag, “I mean, like a suspension spell?” whined Wendell.

  Master Dellwen sighed.

  “Like this—”

  “Please! Allow me!” rushed Master Dellwen.

  Wendell shrugged permissively.

  “Leversaura awen almenaura!” commanded Master Dellwen, and all at once, the books lifted into the air like birds, their pages flapping as they slowly turned about. Master Dellwen untied his and Wendell’s burlap bags and the books and scrolls zipped out of them, soaring above the wizard’s heads. Master Dellwen moved up the cellar stairs and pressed his ear to the metal door. He opened the door a crack and peered out.

  “What are you doing in there?” asked an angry voice from above.

  The older wizard motioned for Wendell to stay back and the young man did as he was instructed. Master Dellwen pushed the door ajar and letting it fall wide open behind him, stepped out into the night.

  “The shop keeper is a friend of mine,” said Master Dellwen sternly, “And I am concerned indeed about the actions of the villagers!”

  “We had to do away with that vile library!” said the man defensively, “lest it continued to foster the same kind of dangerous magic that ended the Sapphire era!”

  Master Dellwen discreetly gestured for Wendell to climb out of the cellar, and Wendell slowly crept out behind the two conversing men. The books followed him, obediently floating at his back in a fluttering river. Hearing the soft rustling of pages, the stranger made a move to turn around but Master Dellwen grabbed his arm and glared at him with his one good eye.

  “If it wasn’t for me, you would have burned down the only food reserve in the village!” he shouted.

  Wendell raced toward the shelter of the forest, the books trailing behind him.

  “But—” stammered the man, unable to argue the wizard’s point, “The library was a terrible threat!” he shouted.

  “The library was harmless!” argued Master Dellwen. “In your rush to burn a bunch of parchment you nearly sentenced the entire village to starve!”

  “Well I—”

  “Enough!” said Master Dellwen. “Go and watch the flames to ensure they do not spread!”

  Just as the last book safely slipped into the darkness of the forest, the man turned around and hurried back to the mob of people that had gathered around the roaring flames consuming a charred and broken skeleton that only recently had been a library.

  Master Dellwen inconspicuously retreated into the forest where Wendell was waiting for him, surrounded by a swarm of hovering books and scrolls. Weary and smelling of smoke, the two wizards headed home. The levitating books and scrolls followed them, bobbing along in the quiet forest, occasionally bumping into a tree with a soft thud and spooking a roosting bird.

  Chapter 3

  Rumors

  The next day it rained. Wendell awoke to the chilling splatter of several large, cold drops landing directly onto his sleeping face. He sat up and wiped the drops from his eyes with his sleeve.

  “Go into the village and buy a large piece of canvas!” instructed Master Dellwen urgently, upon seeing that Wendell had awoken. “We must continue our work even in the rain!”

  At that moment, the dense purple clouds above flashed in a bright zigzag of lightning, and the rain came falling in a sudden downpour. Within a minute it was apparent that the heavy rain was quickly destroying their campsite. Wendell noticed with dismay that the foundation they had dug the day before was beginning to concave, and the posts they had set were starting to lean as the soil rapidly turned to mud. It looked like it was going to be a miserable wet day. Wendell hopped out of bed and quickly dressed. Handing the youth a fistful of coins, Master Dellwen rushed to cover the precious books with a simple protection spell. “Hurry back!” he urged the boy, his hands still glowing from the spell.

  The young wizard ran down the riverbed, soaking his shoes in the gathering stream. By the time he had reached the forest he was splashing through ankle-deep water. The water was a murky red color, the color of the jewel Wendell had placed on the Pillar of Dominance in a moment of all consuming anger. Wendell’s mood plummeted with that observation. He lumbered on through the forest, getting very dirty indeed and not caring at all if he lived through the day. Thunder roared up above, and the branches of the crooked trees dripped grey water down their thick beards of moss. At long last, Wendell made it to the village. He was worried that he would be recognized, even with his hood drawn low over his eyes.

  As Wendell hurried through the cobbled streets, the shopkeepers and citizens shot him nasty glances. Indeed, it was clear that they recognized his jacket, his posture, and his stride. There would be no hiding from their ill wishing eyes. Wendell ignored them and went straight on to the supply shop. Once inside, he scanned over the various merchandise with a quick searching glance until he found a stack of folded canvas pieces of varying sizes. He moved to the canvas shelf and picked through the different cuts, trying to find the largest one. A man entered the shop with his daughter. The man went to the shopkeeper to inquire about the status of a weapons order. His daughter left his side and went to look at the riding gloves.

  Sensing she was someone familiar, Wendell glanced at the girl. She looked up at him also, and they instantly recognized each other. It was the same young woman he had rescued the day before. Wendell’s heart began to race. He looked away, hoping she would stay away for her own safety, but she discreetly moved towards him.

  “You must leave this place,” she whispered.

  “Not until I get what I came for,” he said.

  “You don’t understand…” she trailed off.

  “You should not speak to me,” he warned.

  “Rumors have spread that you are a—” she dared not say the word in the shop for fear of being overheard.

  “Why are you warning me?” he asked. “Why do you care what becomes of me?”

  She looked him in the eyes and smiled sadly. Wendell felt he understood what she meant even though she did not explain in words. Perhaps she did not hate him blindly like the others, it was not in her nature to do so, yet he knew she would come to despise him more than most if she found out the truth. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then both jumped, simultaneously startled at an unexpected boom of rolling thunder. The girl broke into a smile and Wendell mirrored her expression.

  She glanced up at her father, and suddenly grew tense. The man was looking their way. Wendell grabbed one of the larger canvas pieces, and moved to the register without uttering a single word to the girl. He knew it would be safer for her that way. She pulled her father to the riding gloves and casually indicated to the ones that struck her fancy. The man was not fooled by her attempt to distract him, and he followed Wendell with a look of utmost loathing from across the shop. Wendell paid for the canvas. The clerk took his time figuring out the change. Wendell fidgeted impatiently. The man and his daughte
r left the shop without buying anything.

  “Watch your back,” said the clerk, finally handing Wendell his change.

  Chapter 4

  Ausra

  For the next several months Wendell and Master Dellwen worked hard to finish the cottage. They carved the beams for the walls to securely fit into one another and reinforced the position of the beams with wooden pegs. They built up walls with stones and plastered them. The two wizards spent a great deal of time building a ceramic shingle roof, with a chimney. They laid down a sturdy wood floor, and built many elegant shelves right into the cottage walls to hold the precious books they had saved. Master Dellwen showed Wendell how to use a chisel to carve simple decorative spirals into the wooden shelves, and the boy carefully hammered out the attractive pattern on the panels. The cottage library had a large protruding window, and a glass skylight up above the rounded room. The bedrooms were cozy and the kitchen conveniently and thoughtfully designed. At last, the cottage was complete, and all that was left to do was build a few final pieces of furniture, and set what remained of the glass windowpanes.

  One day, Master Dellwen went into the village to buy the last of the supplies they needed. Before the old wizard left he instructed Wendell to organize the library books by content. Wendell was happy to do this task. He was particularly proud of how the library had turned out and he often found himself spending time in that room, fondly going over every detail and appreciating the perfection of the space. After Master Dellwen had departed, Wendell went about carrying the books to the shelves and reading their many titles. The books they had rescued had been temporarily stacked in a corner of the living room. The boy had waited to read any of them until the house was built so that he would not be distracted from his work, and now that the house was nearly finished, he found himself curious about every last one. Approximately half of the books were made using a printing press and the various fonts were curious to read. The remaining books and scrolls were hand written, and the style of the lettering varied greatly. Some texts featured the excellent calligraphy of a scholar while others, the hurried and messy scrawl of a self-taught or impatient wizard.

 

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