It was just enough. Sebaceous Ooze suddenly teetered and peered at Ben in surprise. Then he went floundering over the edge.
Fluke Gutcrawler reared up high, relishing his victory. His voice boomed and echoed through the chamber of the volcano. “I win!”
Until he felt a tug on his tail and realized that his father still held onto him.
With a jerk, Fluke plummeted over the cliff, hundreds of feet, and began to scream in terror.
There was a mighty splash as both worms hit the lava. The volcano roared and shook, as if in joy at receiving the monsters.
Ben raced to the precipice and peered down. The vile Sebaceous Ooze was nowhere to be seen, but Fluke Gutcrawler was there in the magma, swimming like an eel, trying to keep his head above the molten rock.
“It burns!” he cried. “Help, it burns!”
Ben noticed the magic ring lying on the ground nearby, and he rushed over and grabbed it. It was heavy, almost too heavy for a mouse to handle. But Ben managed to roll it to the edge of the precipice, lift it high overhead, and throw it down with all of his might.
It went spinning toward the fiery lake.
Bonk! It conked Fluke Gutcrawler on the head, then bounced into the magma.
Dazed, the cruel worm sank beneath the flaming lava.
Ben stared down into the fiery magma, heart pounding, afraid that one of the worms would rise out of it.
But as he stood on the precipice, the ground beneath him suddenly rocked precariously, and he nearly fell into the red magma. He staggered as the ground continued to roil, and all of a sudden he peered down and realized that the magma was rising, burbling upward.
The volcano was about to blow, and he was right in its path!
Chapter 24
THE MASTER OF FIELD AND FEN
The purpose of life is to have joy,
and if you live it well, joy shall be your reward.
—BARLEY BEARD
“Come,” a voice said. “Your work is done.”
In her dreams, Amber was in the Endless Meadow. It was just like the stories she had heard as a child: giant daisies rose overhead, shining like the sun. There was wheat grass and oats, bearded barley and fescue all growing in a riot.
And in order to eat her fill, all Amber had to do was shake the stalk of some grass, and huge ripe grains would tumble into her arms.
Wild peas grew over the path, their long green pods dripping down overhead, as if begging to be opened, while their flowers, pink and white, gave off a delicate perfume.
Strawberries bigger than a mouse could be seen growing downhill, beside a silver stream. The sun beamed down, and Amber peered up at a sky free from hawks.
Amber could only dimly feel her own pain, the crush of broken bones, the pounding of flesh that had been too badly abused.
“Come,” a voice said. “Your work is done. The mice you were sent to free are now leaping about in celebration. It is time to enjoy your reward.”
Amber knew that voice. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was peaceful and reassuring. It was both loud and unspeakably soft, and cut through her like a cat’s tooth. It was the voice of the Master of Field and Fen.
She peered all around, and would have stepped forward, but she had a sudden horrible sinking feeling.
“Wait a minute,” Amber said. “What about Ben? Where is he?”
The voice gave no answer.
“I-I don’t want to go to the Endless Meadow,” Amber said. “Not without my friends.”
“Are you certain?” the Master asked. “You have earned your reward, and in time, they will join you.”
“I don’t want to be here without them,” Amber said, though in truth she was thinking mostly of Ben.
“Then,” the voice whispered, “you have chosen your reward.”
Immediately, Amber felt tremendous pain in her right leg, and in her head and side. The great worm had nearly crushed her, she knew.
There was an evil roaring sound, and the foul stench of sulfur.
“Amber, help!” someone shouted. It was Thorn.
Amber’s eyes flew open, and she peered around. There were slobber goblins shrieking in fear, and snot spiders racing away in confusion. Amber looked to her right, and saw Bushmaster asleep. Thorn was shouting, “Amber, wake up! The volcano is going to blow!”
The world trembled and stalactites dropped from the ceiling like giant spears. Amber tried to move her arms, but she was glued to the ground.
With a thought, she set herself and the others free, peeling back the dry glue. She mended her shattered ribs and closed up the wounds in her stomach and lungs.
“Where’s Ben?” Amber asked Thorn.
“Dead,” Thorn answered. “He was eaten by the Wizard of Ooze.”
Suddenly, Amber remembered her last sight of Ben, getting slurped down the gullet of the great worm.
How much time has passed? she wondered.
She whirled around the room, looking for the worms, but they were gone. Their minions were in disarray, and to Amber’s relief, only a few mice were left here in the cavern. They were running away, shrieking in terror.
“Where’s the Wizard of Ooze?” Amber demanded.
Thorn just looked at her levelly. “Gone,” he said. “Dead, I think. Killed by his better half.”
Amber’s heart seemed to break. She had made a choice to stay in this world, to live and enjoy her reward here on earth. But she’d stayed because she wanted to be with Ben. And now, it seemed, she had made the wrong choice.
The ground rumbled terribly, and Thorn peered up as stalactites plummeted. There was a bright flash from an adjoining tunnel as magma shot into the air.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Thorn cried.
Amber looked around helplessly. There were still mice in the volcano, trying to make their way to freedom.
“All mice,” Amber commanded, “fly to freedom!”
Suddenly she was lifted up, as if by an invisible hand, and began flying through the air faster than a hummingbird, more beautiful than a dragonfly.
Thorn and Bushmaster and all of the other mice rose up with her, the wind rushing around them.
With a thought, Amber saw that she could steer and change direction. It gave her the most exhilarating sense of freedom that she’d ever felt, and suddenly she was in the midst of a flock of mice, tens of thousands strong, all of them flying up out of the volcano even as it boiled beneath them and began to spew ash and smoke.
They soared up over the lip of the volcano, and Amber saw the plains of Wyoming spread beneath her. There was snow on the prairie, and a river running through it. Along the river, buffalo were grazing while a single moose nibbled at some young willows at the river’s edge.
The sun was about to set, and it cast everything in shades of gold—the snow, the river. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing Amber had ever seen.
But she could take no joy in it. Instead, she found herself fighting tears that streamed from her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and just lie there, freezing in the snow.
“Why are you so sad?” Thorn asked, as he flew at her side. But he seemed to know. “Ben’s alive.”
“What?” Amber begged. “Where?”
“He has to be,” Thorn said. “You’re a fine magician, but you couldn’t make a million mice fly out of a volcano—not without your familiar!”
Amber peered about, looking from mouse to mouse, but there were hundreds of thousands of them flying out over the prairie, all spreading out in different directions, and she couldn’t see Ben among them.
Then the volcano roared and black soot and steam shot high into the air. Lightning flashed in the upper atmosphere near the volcanic cloud, and bits of rock and ash began drifting from the sky.
Amber peered back behind her. In the distance she spotted one lone mouse flying out of the ash. It seemed to drift for a moment, and then came speeding toward her.
“Ben!” she cried. It had
to be him. She just knew it!
And moments later, he came close enough that she could see his face.
He landed beside her, and whole flocks of mice came flying from all around, gathering at Amber’s feet.
“Hooray!” they cheered, weeping for joy. “Hooray!”
The earth trembled as if it would split apart, and huge clouds of ash shot into the evening sky, with streamers of molten rock roaring up like rockets.
The mice turned to peer at this, for it was as if heaven and earth had united to give them a fireworks show.
Amber hugged Ben then, hugged him so tightly that she was afraid she’d squish him. But she had to hold him tight. For several minutes, she had believed she had lost him, and now she never wanted to lose him again.
Chapter 25
ONE SMART MOUSE
Happiness comes as a result of our calculations.
With every choice we make, we choose whether our lives
will end in joy or misery. Even when it seems that nature
conspires to take our choices away, we can still choose joy.
—LADY BLACKPOOL
There was a sudden flash of light, and Ben saw what looked like a tunnel open.
And so the volcano blew that day. Fortunately, it happened in Wyoming, where practically nobody lives, and so no one got hurt.
The explosion was not nearly as large as Sebaceous Ooze had hoped. A little bit of ash and magma shot up into the sky. Then the volcano formed a new, taller cone. But it was no super volcano.
In fact, as volcanoes go, it was something of a dud.
At least, that’s how Fluke Gutcrawler saw it.
The explosion hurled him high into the air, where the cold winds of the upper atmosphere quenched the fires burning his flesh.
Amid clouds of sulfurous ash and raining stones, Fluke fell, screaming in terror and pain. Though the air quelled the fires that burned him, they could not quench the pain.
So Fluke landed amid a pile of sulfurous ash, where he lay writhing and burning in his own personal inferno.
It was Ben who had put him here—Ben and the wizardess Amber.
“I’ll get you,” Fluke cried, even as the fires burned him. “I’ll get you both.”
Tenderly, he extended his tail into the ashes, poking it through the corroded remains of an ancient, black ring.
* * *
Amber, Ben, Thorn, and Bushmaster returned home to Oregon at a leisurely pace, believing that the world was safe from evil Wyoming thunder worms. They flew on the back of a Canada goose that seemed to have nothing better to do, winging them over the potato fields of Idaho, still brown at this time of year, soaring along the Snake River, where the water below them reflected the blue skies and the river cut through steep canyons.
Ben could hardly wait to get home. He’d been a mouse now for a week. If his calculations were right, he had aged a whole year or more. He’d only been ten when he started his journey, but now when Amber turned him back into a human, he’d have the body of an eleven-year-old.
I could have hair in my armpits! he thought. I might even need to shave!
Just for good measure, he raised his paw and peered into his armpits. He couldn’t tell if he’d grown any extra in the past week. His coat was as thick there as ever.
He wondered how his mom and dad would feel when he got home. He imagined how things would change. His mother would be so happy to see him, she’d cry, and maybe she’d resolve to be a better mother, to brush her teeth once in a while. And his dad? Maybe his dad would be so happy that he’d take Ben out to play baseball, instead of just watching television.
So Ben was eager to be human again.
* * *
During the flight, Amber remained alone in her thoughts.
The goose flew them two hundred miles the first afternoon. By nighttime, as the mice camped alongside the river in a stand of cattails, Ben assured Amber that they were still far, far from home.
The world is far more vast than I ever imagined, Amber realized. Do I really want to try to take it over?
That’s what Nightwing had wanted to do. That is what the evil thunder worms had wanted to do.
Maybe everybody wants to rule the world, she thought.
But that didn’t feel quite right. The fact was that Amber didn’t really want to rule the world. She just wanted the world to leave her alone. She didn’t want to have to worry about foxes and hawks and hailstorms. She didn’t want to have to be afraid all of the time. She wanted to have a nice quiet life.
Maybe that’s what everyone wants, Amber thought. And we only try to control the world because we’re so afraid of it.
That felt right to her, and at that moment, Amber resolved not to be afraid anymore, no matter what happened in the future.
Maybe I’ll go back home with Ben, she thought. After he’s human, I could live in his room, under his bed. It would be warm there, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the weather. I could be a human too, and go to school with him, and I would be able to eat out of the garbage can whenever I wanted to!
As the mice camped beside the river, Amber heard a big fish splash out in the water.
The ground felt cold. Chunks of ice thrust up from it like rocks where the groundwater had frozen solid.
The mice huddled together for warmth, but it obviously wasn’t enough. So the mice went to a pile of twigs that had been left by a muskrat. They shoved some wheat straw among the twigs, and Amber lit it. Soon they had a cheery little fire going.
As Amber, Thorn, Ben, and Bushmaster inched close to the fire, their tiny black eyes shone like beads of glass.
Amber peered at Ben, across the fire from her, holding his front paws out to get them nice and toasty.
“So,” she asked, “are you ready to be turned back into a human again?”
Say no, she thought. Please say no.
The truth was that Amber didn’t want to lose him. He was so handsome as a mouse, but she didn’t think much of humans. Their lack of body hair made them look like icky toads.
“Yeah,” Ben said eagerly. “I’m ready.”
Amber nodded, her throat getting tight. She tried to hold back tears. “Do you want me to do it now?”
Ben nodded but then seemed to think of something. “Wait! Don’t do it yet—not until we get home.”
“Okay,” Amber said, and she felt as if he had given her a death sentence.
Maybe I should become a human, she thought, if I’m going to stay with him. After all, I’ll have to look at him in his ugly human form either way. She wrinkled her nose. But then I’ll also have to live without my own pelt, without my sleek whiskers and my lovely tail.
I’ll be hideous, she realized, just like every other human girl.
Amber wasn’t sure that she could do that to herself, even if she did have a crush on Ben.
The only other thing to do was to live beside him as a mouse, perhaps sleeping among the dust bunnies under his bed, scavenging for food among the crumbs on his kitchen floor.
Amber felt lost. If she turned herself into a human, she’d lose her beauty. If she stayed a mouse, she’d never really be his friend the way they wanted.
And as the mice sat in the moonlight with a million stars burning overhead while the small fire crackled in front of them, Bushmaster must have felt sadness, too.
He sang a slow and simple song:
Long is the road that we have wandered,
Now it’s time that we go home.
From my friends I will be parted.
Soon I must wander on my own.
Hard are the paths that we have trodden
Over mountains and under stone.
Harder still will be our parting,
When I must wander home alone.
Ben listened to the mournful tune, and he was sorry to hear Bushmaster sound so sad.
But in truth, Ben’s heart was soaring.
Spring was coming, and he could hear the restless flocks of geese up in the sky, flyin
g in the darkness. The mice would sleep, but Ben wasn’t sure that he could sleep. He was too excited.
By tomorrow I could be home, he thought. If we take a nap, then ride another goose tonight, we should get over the mountains, and then I’ll be home.
And so as the other mice went to sleep, Ben volunteered to keep guard. He stood at the edge of the fire with his little needle, and one time he saw a pair of bright yellow eyes in the dark, reflecting the light. It might have been a fox, he thought, or maybe a wild mink.
Whatever it was, it moved off soundlessly and didn’t bother him.
Sometime in the night, he must have dozed, and when he woke, Thorn was standing beside him.
“So,” Thorn asked. “You’re eager to get home, to go back to being a human?”
“Yeah,” Ben said. He hated to admit it, but he really missed it. He even missed school.
“So what’s so great about being human?” Thorn asked.
It wasn’t a question that Ben had thought much about before. “A human is kind,” Ben said, because that is what he wanted most to be.
“Kind to whom?” Thorn asked. “Kind to other animals?”
Ben wanted to say yes, but he knew that it wasn’t true. Ben had almost fed Amber to a lizard on the day he had bought her. And he would have killed her if she hadn’t turned him into a mouse.
The truth was that humans weren’t very nice to most animals. Oh, some humans kept cats and dogs as pets, but humans ate all of their farm animals, and they hunted and killed wild animals with no thought about how the animals might feel.
“It seems to me,” Thorn said, “that you’ve learned a lot. You’re a kind mouse, Benjamin Ravenspell. You’ve saved the lives of hundreds of thousands of mice. Perhaps you’ve even saved all of mousekind. It makes me wonder, could a mouse do that? Would a mouse have the courage? Or are you really still a human, dressed up in mouseskin?”
“I don’t know,” Ben said. And it was true. He wasn’t sure what he was anymore. He looked like a mouse and moved like a mouse, but maybe on the inside he was still human.
Ravenspell Book 2: The Wizard of Ooze Page 15
