Ravenspell Book 1: Of Mice and Magic

by David Farland

  He had no choice. Ben grabbed his needle, propped it up as if it were a cane, and hobbled forward.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Ben demanded.

  The kitten chuckled low in her throat, and said, “Purrrfect. She’ll make a purrrfect present for my master. Then he’ll praise me and pet me—purrrrfectly.”

  Ben saw the kitten shift just a little, its muscles bunching, its long, black-tipped tail whipping about playfully. It was just waiting for Ben to try something. But Ben felt too woozy to take on the kitten.

  The mice in the cages were all calling to Amber, trying to rouse her. But their voices were muted by distance and the thick wall of glass that surrounded them.

  Amber lay unmoving.

  “Hey,” Ben said. “If you’re planning to eat her, doesn’t she deserve a last wish?”

  The kitten’s eyes shone like bright copper. “A wish?” the kitten said. “No last wishes for this one. I’ve been warned.”

  So, Ben realized, someone had talked to the kitten. This was all part of some plot! But who was behind it?

  The kitten licked Amber’s head with her huge, rasping tongue. The gesture seemed to rouse the mouse, who lifted her head groggily. Amber kept gasping for breath as she lay crushed beneath the cat’s paw.

  The mice in their cage redoubled their cries, shouting, “Help her,” and “Amber, run.”

  Amber lurched, trying in her daze to bolt free, but the kitten instantly grabbed tighter with her claws. The kitten threateningly gaped her mouth. Her fangs were as long and as white as elephant tusks. She prepared to puncture a hole through Amber’s skull.

  “Wait!” Ben said as he gripped his makeshift spear and stalked closer to the giant kitten. “You were warned about Amber, but was your boss smart enough to warn you about me?”

  The Abyssinian peered at Ben’s weapon. She growled deep in her throat. “Stay back. You’re one step away from mouse heaven.”

  The Abyssinian could squash him in an instant, Ben knew, but it held onto Amber and began backing away, dragging her along. It seemed to be frightened.

  “Tell me who sent you,” Ben demanded. “Or I swear, I’ll stab you right in the eye!”

  The Abyssinian stopped. At that instant, there was a piercing sound, and the kitten vaulted three feet in the air.

  Bushmaster was behind the cat. He’d sneaked up on her and stabbed her tail.

  The Abyssinian came down in a quivering heap.

  Ben didn’t even think about what he was doing. He leaped toward the creature with all his might, thrusting his spear deep into its shoulder, and Bushmaster did the same, stabbing the cat in the back.

  The Abyssinian yowled, rolling backward. It scrabbled to its feet with its back arched, hair standing up along its spine.

  Bushmaster squatted, his spear aimed threateningly at the cat, and Ben felt gratitude well up inside him. He was suddenly very thankful to know this vole, to have won his friendship.

  “Beware,” Ben shouted at the Abyssinian. “We mice have weapons now, and we’re a match for any cat!”

  The kitten hissed and sped around a corner.

  Ben leaned on his spear and nodded at Bushmaster.

  “Good job,” Bushmaster said.

  “Thank you for being here,” Ben replied. Ben looked at Bushmaster, and for a tiny instant he thought of his old friend, Christian. Christian had been the kind of friend that you could count on in a crunch, just like Bushmaster, and he had the same kind of happy-go-lucky nature that the vole did when he broke into song.

  For a moment, Ben realized how much the two were alike, and the moment melted into sadness.

  “Hooray!” the feeder mice in their cage all shouted. They cheered in delight, and many of them trembled and wept in relief.

  Amber moaned softly. Bushmaster crept forward and nuzzled her. Ben heard a chuckling sound and looked up. There was a huge cage there with black bars above him. Something like a wooden birdhouse was inside, with bits of rope, vine, and tree branches forming a false jungle. In the dim light provided by the fish tanks, Ben could barely make out a creature in the shadowy wood box.

  “Good on ya, mates,” a loud, deep voice said. “You put the fear o’ mice into that one, all right!”

  The creature inched forward and peered through the bars. It wasn’t anywhere near as large as its voice made it sound. Its fur was brightly colored—bluish gray on the sides and back with a lighter gray stomach, black circles around its eyes and on its ears, and a black stripe blazing its forehead. It looked kind of like a chipmunk, except that its snout was too long, too pointy, and too pink.

  “Hello,” Ben said.

  “G’day back on ya,” the creature said. It studied him for a moment, as if content just to watch the show.

  Ben didn’t know what to do now. Amber was still unconscious, with Bushmaster nuzzling her. Just ahead stood a bench with the mouse cage on it.

  “Watch out for that kitten, while I free the mice,” Ben warned Bushmaster as he loped toward to the cage.

  The bench was too high to reach, so he uncurled his fishing line, made some knots in it, and hurled the treble hook up into the air. It caught on the wooden bench, and Ben began to pull himself up.

  It was hard work. His arms burned from the effort, but Ben told himself, “Come on, you wimp. You can do it! You couldn’t weigh more than an ounce now.”

  In moments, he’d reached the top. There were twenty-four feeder mice in the cage where Ben had bought Amber. They were kept inside a terrarium that only had half of a lid covering it. The mice raced up to him and peered through the glass. They were all plain brown in color, and most of them looked young, only a few weeks old.

  “Who are you?” they asked.

  “Are you a wild mouse?”

  “What are you doing with Amber?”

  One plain brown feeder mouse maiden looked shyly at Ben, then begged, “Will you marry me?”

  “I’m here to rescue you,” Ben told them. “We’re going to take you to the Endless Meadow.”

  “Hooray,” the feeder mice cried. They began racing around their pen, leaping for joy.

  Ben gathered his fishing line and threw the treble hook into the mouse’s cage. It snagged on the food dish, and he pulled the line tight.

  “Climb on out,” he told them. In moments, the mice were clinging to the fishing line, climbing up four at a time. Ben held the line on his side, so that the feeder mice wouldn’t pull it in.

  When the first one reached safety, Ben ordered, “Help keep an eye out for that kitten.” And he held on tight as the rest of the mice kept climbing.

  Soon, mice were tumbling from the cage right and left.

  Overhead, on a higher shelf, lived the spotted mice. They saw what was happening and left their exercise wheels and their gourmet mouse food to watch the show.

  Once Ben had the feeder mice out of their cage, he worked his treble hook free from the water dish, and, with a bit of work, climbed now to the top shelf.

  Ben threw a line to the spotted mice, but none of them went to it. One asked, “Why would we want to go with you? We have a fabulous home and tantalizing food. Besides, we don’t want to be seen with ugly mice.”

  Some others shouted, “Yeah, we don’t want to be seen with yooo-eww.”

  A feeder mouse shouted back, “Yeah, well you smell poopy!”

  “You’re just jealous,” a spotted mouse said, “because we’re better than you.”

  From the floor, Amber said reasonably, “You are prettier than us. But all mice are beautiful. The humans might not see that, but we mice should see the truth.”

  Ben looked down. Amber had regained her feet. She sounded wise and reasonable and much more mature than her ten weeks. She was gazing up at Ben with tears of gratitude in her eyes. The feeder mice were leaping from the table, gathering around her. She rejoiced to see her friends.

  Ben felt proud to have saved the mice and even prouder that he had done it all on his own.

  “
Yeah, well you’re ugly,” one spotted mouse shouted at Amber. “And if you can’t see that, then maybe you’re more than ugly. Maybe you’re stupid, too!”

  The spotted mice reminded Ben of some kids he knew at school. They never had a nice word for anyone but themselves.

  Ben wanted to save the spotted mice, but he knew that he couldn’t force them to come against their will. He offered a warning. “I have news for you. Brown mice are raised to be food for snakes and lizards, and so we needed to free them. But if you stay here, the humans will need to feed the snakes something, and it just might be you.”

  One spotted mouse smiled condescendingly, as if Ben were a fool. “The humans would never hurt me.” She twirled, displaying her lovely brown coat with white spots. “I’m too beautiful. And pretty mice are far too valuable to be put on the menu.”

  “Well,” Ben said, as he pulled his fishing line back to himself and coiled it, “If I were a snake, I think I’d much rather eat a pretty mouse than a plain old brown one.”

  He watched the spotted mice, to see if any would come, but they all began running on their exercise wheel, munching on mouse yogurt bars, or drinking Evian from their water spigot. None of them would come. Ben said, “Have a nice life,” and turned away.

  But as he looked down the aisle from his high vantage point, he spotted a calico kitten crouching atop a fish tank at the far end of turtle aisle, waiting to pounce on any mice that might be traveling unaware.

  At that moment all of the mice were just in front of him on the floor below. Ben spotted movement farther off—several kittens on the next aisle, sneaking on all fours.

  In a mighty leap, Ben jumped to the ground and rushed up to Amber. She stood at the center of a knot of mice that had gathered around her and Bushmaster with their tails pointing out. Most of them were squealing with delight, greeting Amber as if she’d been gone for years.

  “Amber,” Ben shouted. “Your friends are free. Now turn me back into a human. Quick!”

  Startled, Amber looked at Ben. She’d been smiling, but now her face fell. Ben could see hesitation in her dark eyes. Maybe even fear.

  She doesn’t want to turn me back, he realized. “Hurry,” Ben urged. “The kittens are coming!”

  Amber whirled to look down the aisle, and sure enough, just then the Abyssinian stepped into their field of view. Behind it came others—a black Persian with orange eyes whose hair was so thick it looked like armor and a pair of yellow-striped, tigerlike kittens.

  The Abyssinian roared. “You think you’re so tough. Let’s see how you handle a pride of us.”

  Amber looked back at Ben and said, “I wish . . . I wish . . .” Amber’s heart pounded like a cricket in her chest. She licked her lips and peered about in terror. Ben could almost read her mind, trying to find a reason, any reason, not to keep her part of the bargain.

  Was it because she really didn’t want to lose him? Or was there something more? Maybe she had guessed the truth, that he was the source of her power.

  The kittens saw Amber’s fear and took courage. There was a sea of them, and they stalked forward quietly, like a fog that rolls along the ground, their tails twitching menacingly in the sky. Ben could hear their evil, hissing laughter.

  Amber peered back at Ben, weighing her choices, and roared, “I wish that I were a giant, cat-sucking vacuum cleaner!”

  Blue lights flashed, piercing her skin, and bolts of lightning went zapping overhead, frying holes in the ceiling and exploding into walls.

  Amber growled and her face twisted into something hideous. Bits of metal began piercing through her hair, as if nails were trying to poke through her. Suddenly she rose up in the air, high above the rest of the mice. Her gray mouse hairs formed into huge needles, like spear points sticking out from her body. Her feet and paws became terrifying metal talons. Her chest and stomach turned to clear plastic, and all of her intestines looked like coils of glass tubes. Her long snout became a huge silver cannon, and her belly issued a terrible rumbling sound, as if she were a cement truck.

  But the worst thing was her eyes. Her eyes grew huge and blazed like a furnace of green fire.

  The mice around her all shrieked and fled, running for cover. Amber was a giant now—a clumsy giant—as dangerous as any cat. She grabbed for something to hang onto, and one huge arm slapped the black cage above Ben, knocking it to the floor. Its door flung open, and the chipmunklike creature scrambled for cover.

  The Abyssinian watched Amber’s transformation in awe, its back arching. “You don’t scare us,” it hissed.

  Amber charged down the aisle, past angelfish that gaped in dismay. After two steps she took one huge leap and landed on iron feet among the kittens.

  Sluuurrrppp! She sucked the Abyssinian up in one second, and the next moment Ben could see the terrified kitten tumbling through her innards, twisting, turning, and clawing, desperately grasping at the glass walls, its mouth wide in terror.

  The Abyssinian hit Amber’s stomach with a thunking sound and whirled around the vacuum chamber, bouncing and rattling against the walls, yowling in terror.

  Just then, Amber raised her long tail, now covered in silver barbs, as if it were a glittering, deadly hose. She aimed it over the nearest aisle, and the Abyssinian went roaring through it, whooshed over the fish tanks, and landed in a mound of twitching fur.

  It just lay on its back, petrified with fear, its claws grabbing the air, eyes staring into oblivion.

  The other kittens had all arched their backs and were hissing in terror, sidestepping but too afraid to run.

  Amber charged in among the kittens. They yowled in terror. They clawed and cursed as only evil kittens can. They ran, scrambling under fish tanks and over shelves—but it did them no good.

  Amber whirled about, slurping them down like dust bunnies, firing them across the room like spit wads.

  Ben watched in terror—not terror at Amber’s power, but at the waste of it.

  She was using all of the magic he kept stored inside.

  The mice cheered as Amber chugged kittens. “Yay,” they all shouted. “Think twice before you mess with mice!”

  It was a great victory for Amber and a terrible defeat for Ben.

  The chipmunklike creature hopped up to Ben and asked in a deep voice, “Why so glum, mate?”

  “She didn’t turn me back into a human,” Ben said bitterly. “She didn’t keep her promise. And I don’t think that she ever will.”

  Chapter 11

  THE DARK MAGE

  There’s a little monster in everyone.

  —NIGHTWING

  At the far end of the hallway near the door, something dark and sickening slogged into view.

  AMBER RACED through the pet shop, chasing kittens, swallowing them whole, and shooting them out. Her thoughts swam in a red river of rage. She kept remembering how the Abyssinian had enjoyed tormenting her. She recalled the little song that Domino had sung about nibbling the heads off of mice, and she understood something that she’d never imagined. For a cat, killing was play.

  How many mice had died beneath cats’ paws? How old was time? How wide was the world? And in that ageless, vast world, how many mice had died in torment?

  “Stop it,” Amber shouted through a red haze of rage. “Stop killing us. Stop it now!”

  Everything became a blur. Amber chased evil kittens through the pet shop, past aisles brimming with puppy chew toys, around a koi pond where fountains burbled and enormous fish swam lazily beneath the lily pads, and over the tops of lizard cages where iguanas and bearded dragons lazed beneath artificial suns.

  In her haste to grab one white kitten, she ripped open a huge bag of fish food. Dried flies and brine shrimp whooshed through her belly and shot out her tail, then sat glittering in the air. A Siamese kitten tried to climb over a birdcage and knocked it to the floor. Amber lunged through displays of dog collars to reach it.

  Around the room, Amber chased the kittens, finding them hiding behind cans of dog food and climbin
g under counters. She tore the pet shop apart, smashing cages and hurling bags of birdseed, all in her effort to find them.

  She saw a huge kitten on a nearby wall, ran to it, and attacked it with her claws. The kitten shredded, and Amber saw that it was just a picture. Just a picture.

  Behind the picture, the wall was made of cinder blocks. Amber’s metal claws had gouged a trail.

  She stared at it in shock. Distantly she heard a small voice. “Amber, stop! Stop!”

  Numb, she turned and looked down. Ben and Bushmaster were on the floor nearby. Both held their spears, and Ben wore his silly little helmet made of walnut shell. Bushmaster stared at her in fear and surprise.

  “Stop it,” Ben shouted. “The kittens are gone. They’ve all gone back to their cage.”

  Amber turned. The terrified kittens were indeed back in their cage, shivering in fear. Amber hadn’t meant to hurt them, but she saw cats limping about, one with a torn ear, some with swollen eyes.

  Indeed, everywhere that she looked, the animals were cowering in terror. A tank full of turtles looked like nothing but turtle shells. Snakes were burrowing holes in the sands of their cages. Cockatoos cowered in the shadows.

  Amber’s heart pounded so hard, it was as if there was a hammer inside, beating to get out.

  I’m as tall as a human, she thought. Everything is smaller than me. Nothing can hurt me.

  For the first time in her life, Amber realized what it was to be free—free from the fear of being eaten, free to move across the world at will.

  What a wonderful thing it must be to be human, she thought. Free from all cages. Free to grow old.

  Yet she looked down at Ben and saw how handsome he was. Strong and sleek and precious.

  “I wish,” she said. “I wish I were a mouse again.”

  And she shrank. Her metal claws became flesh. The clear plastic lining of her stomach grew fur. In seconds, she was a mouse, wrung out and tired, panting on the floor.

  Ben and Bushmaster came up to her. Amber asked, “Where did everyone else go?”