Kendra nodded again, and her fingers moved instinctively to her twig of Eenwood, still tucked snugly in her belt. It seemed to Kendra that she should feel some enchantment coursing through her wand—something similar to the sensation she had felt when she had touched the mighty Een tree—but it yielded only the slightest tingle.
“It will come in time,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, as if reading her thoughts. “That is, if you practice in earnest.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Kendra said.
“Now, there’s just one more thing,” the old wizard added. “Your robe.”
“Er . . . my robe?” Kendra asked.
“Aye,” he replied, now producing a bulky package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. “Now that you’re studying to become a wizard, you’ll need to dress accordingly. I had Tailor Long-Ears make this especially for you before we left for the grove.”
Kendra accepted the package from Uncle Griffinskitch’s gnarled hands and quickly untied the bundle. As the paper fell away, she found herself holding a luxurious set of garments. The under robe was light green in color with loose sleeves and a body-length skirt, while the outer layer consisted of a thick, dark green cape with a heavy cowl. Kendra gasped in spite of herself. It was simply beautiful.
She thanked her uncle, but this quickly caused him to turn red with embarrassment. “Humph,” he murmured softly, which was more or less his way of saying “you’re welcome.” There was a moment of awkward silence, so the old man quickly added, “Now, don’t be leaving all these books in the middle of the house, child. Take them into your room. An organized room will mean organized study.”
Kendra couldn’t help smirking at this remark. She had been to the home of Winter Woodsong, the oldest sorceress in all the land of Een—and her chambers were anything but organized. But there could be no arguing with Uncle Griffinskitch, so Kendra set about arranging the books in her small room.
As she cleared some space on one of her bookshelves, the Een girl came upon the few magical items that she already owned. These had come into her possession at the end of her last adventure, and all had been given to her by Effryn Hagglehorn, a peculiar Faun who traveled the lands of the outside world so that he might peddle his caravan of magical items. Effryn was not one to part with any of his charms or curios (unless there was a hefty amount of gold coming his way), but Kendra had saved him from the Door to Unger, so he had endowed her with three gifts before parting company with her.
The first one was certainly the most important; it was a small silver vial that contained the secret spell of the magic curtain—the very spell that Kendra had used to break back into the land of Een after Burdock had sealed it shut. If only the nasty old Een knew that she possessed this magic!
The second item was the maiden’s mirror. According to Effryn, it worked as a magical device of communication, enabling two parties to talk across great distances.
“There’re two of these mirrors,” Effryn had explained at the time. “You’ve got the maiden’s, and I’ve got the minstrel’s. I’ll give one to you and keep one myself. That way, we can keep in touch after we part ways. You never know, as I travel the world I may hear news about your brother, and I’ll contact you through the mirror. That’s a promise—or I’ll be shorn!”
“But why do they call it the maiden’s mirror?” Kendra had asked the Faun.
“Well the maiden and the minstrel were in love, I reckon,” Effryn had replied. “But see, their folks were at war, so those two lovebirds couldn’t be together. So they just talked through these mirrors, pining for one another. That was hundreds of years ago, of course, and now I’ve got these mirrors. Whenever you need to reach me, just polish the mirror’s glass, and I’ll be there in an instant.”
So far, Kendra had tried to use the mirror many times, but with no result. She decided the whole thing was just a hoax, or perhaps Effryn had lost his matching mirror. Still, the maiden’s mirror made a pretty ornament, and she kept it on her bookshelf, near the window, so that it could catch the glint of the moonlight.
The final item that Effryn had left Kendra was perhaps the most unassuming of all. It was a simple blackened stone wrapped in brown paper. Unlike the silver vial or the maiden’s mirror, the sharp piece of stone did not sparkle or glimmer at all. It was dull and dirty, looking like nothing more than a broken fragment of some ancient vase. Even now, as Kendra made room on her shelf for her books, she pushed aside the stone with disinterest. It still lay in its nest of brown paper, barely unwrapped.
“Whatever is this?” Kendra had asked Effryn when he had first given her the strange stone.
“That . . . why, er . . . ‘tis nothing of great importance,” the Faun had replied at the time. “Just keep it safe for this old Faun, eh? There may be a time when I come asking for it. Don’t go showing it about, mind you. Magic stuff can get you in trouble, sure as you’re shorn, so just keep it tucked away in this bit of paper.”
Kendra was an unnaturally curious Een, but the Faun’s request has been an easy one to obey. There seemed nothing remarkable about the stone at all. Now, since she needed the room on her shelf, she pushed the small package out of the way. Whatever the stone was, she was sure it wouldn’t help her find her brother and, in her mind, there was nothing more important than that.
EVEN THE GREATEST OF HEROES needs a moment to pause on the road to adventure, to rest, to rejuvenate, to reflect. So, as summer slowly turned to autumn in the land of Een, this is exactly the pause that Kendra was granted. Her life settled into a quiet routine of tutelage under the watchful eye of her uncle, but her young heart grew restless. She was desperate to seek her brother, and yet Uncle Griffinskitch was adamant that they wait until spring before renewing their search.
Adding to this frustration was the fact that Kendra missed her friends. Even though Ratchet and Oki had moved into her house, she rarely saw them. They seemed to spend every hour of the day out in the woods, working on some secret project that Ratchet had dreamed up (“No magic involved,” he promised). Whatever this new invention, it consumed all of the animals’ energy, for every night Ratchet and Oki came home covered in dirt and sawdust and drained of strength.
Ratchet, who was usually all too boastful about his ideas, wouldn’t talk about the project. All he would say was, “Oki and I have been cooking up this idea for a while. You won’t believe it when you see it, Kendra.”
She tried to convince Oki to tell her what it was all about, but he wouldn’t say a word either. She even tried finding the location of this secret project, but with no luck. Whatever it was, it was well hidden.
Kendra couldn’t help feeling envious. Her two best friends spent all their hours together, while she spent every day in the company of Uncle Griffinskitch. And if the old wizard seemed impatient and ornery as an uncle, he was doubly so as a teacher. As the weeks rolled on, Kendra began to feel her enthusiasm for magic wane.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this, after all, Kendra thought one warm October afternoon as she stood out in the garden with her uncle. The old wizard was trying to teach her how to use her Eenwand to pluck a leaf from a nearby branch, but it was going poorly. Kendra, of course, had used magic before in her life, but mostly with Ratchet’s inventions. The raccoon’s magic involved very little work—at most, you might have to memorize a few simple lines of enchantment, but usually you just had to sprinkle a powder and let it go to work. Using the Eenwand was a completely different matter. Try as she might, Kendra could not seem to summon any magic from the tiny twig of wood.
“Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch huffed as he watched her flounder in her lesson. “Your problem, Kendra, is that you can easily imagine using magic. What you have to do now is imagine the magic itself.”
“I don’t understand the difference,” Kendra said. “I can’t get anything out of this wand. Maybe it doesn’t work.”
“Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted. “The wand is perfectly fine. You keep expecting the wand to give you something. But you hav
e it backwards. The energy has to come from you.”
“Energy?” Kendra asked.
“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “What is magic if not energy? It’s everywhere, all about us. It’s in the rustle of the leaves, in the glint of the sun on the River Wink. It’s in the fragrance of the morning mist.”
“Then it’s like nature?” Kendra asked.
“You can think of it that way,” her uncle said. “But the mystery of magic is deeper than that. It’s across the world, the universe, even time. Your job is to channel that energy. The wand can help you do that, like a magnet, like a tuning fork. Still, you have to do it, not the wand.”
Kendra tugged one of her braids in frustration. “But how?”
“Open your mind. Block out the world around you.”
“But I thought you said the energy was in the world!” Kendra cried. “How can I find it if I block out the world?”
“Ah!” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “There’s the trick. Block out the world, but not the energy. You must hear beyond the rustle of the leaves, see beyond the glint of the sun, smell—yes, even smell—beyond the dew of the morning mist. When you can do that, the poetry will enter your mind, the incantations will dance off your lips with ease.”
Kendra sighed. If you have ever struggled with learning a new skill, such as ice skating or playing the violin, then you will know exactly how Kendra felt. It seemed so easy when her uncle performed magic, but for her, it was like trying to climb a steep cliff. She had seen Uncle Griffinskitch cast some marvelous spells. Once, he had even turned a dragon’s flames into harmless snowflakes! How did he ever manage to block out the world when a ferocious beast was charging down on him? Would she ever be able to do that?
“You’re thinking grand thoughts again, aren’t you?” Uncle Griffinskitch declared, banging his staff against the earth. “Do not jump ahead of yourself. One day you will be able to pluck a giant out of his own boots. For now, let’s concentrate on the leaf. Again.”
Kendra closed her eyes, screwed up her face, and raised her wand to the pesky leaf that fluttered in the breeze a few Eenlengths above her. She tried to do as her uncle said, closing off the world around her, trying to concentrate on the simple task of picking the leaf. For the briefest of moments she could feel the world becoming mute around her. The autumn colors dimmed, the breeze quieted, and she could sense the words rising in her throat. She chanted:
Gentle leaf, orange as fire
From your twig you must retire
Come to me, my gentle shire—I, er, mean, squire—or to admire—oh, blast it!
Kendra opened her eyes and groaned. She had finally felt a pulse of energy fire through her wand—but it had disappeared all too quickly. Her focus had evaporated like steam, and the leaf was still anchored firmly to its branch. It waved in the breeze, as if to taunt her.
“Perhaps it’s time we take a break,” Uncle Griffinskitch suggested.
“I want to do it,” Kendra declared.
“That may be so,” Uncle Griffinskitch said irritably. “But you aren’t able to do it, not now at least.”
“This is ridiculous!” Kendra cried. “All I want to do is go find Kiro. We’re wasting time plucking leaves when we could be out there trying to find him.”
“Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch snorted. “And who here is plucking leaves? I see no leaves plucked.”
“You know what I mean.”
“We’ve discussed this, Kendra,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “We don’t even know where to begin looking for Kiro! And winter is a dangerous time for Eens.”
“Kiro’s an Een!” Kendra cried.
“Or an Unger,” Uncle Griffinskitch returned. “The last we saw him, he was transformed into one of those beasts. So now we will show patience. Who knows? We may receive word from him yet. If not, we will resume our search after the snows.”
“That will mean months of waiting,” Kendra said.
“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “Thankfully, we will have plenty of study to keep us occupied.”
Kendra fumed.
“Magic does not always come so easily,” the old wizard said, resting his withered hands on the knob of his staff.
“It should to me,” Kendra declared, clutching her wand tightly.
“Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch mumbled, his sharp blue eyes flaring. “And why do you assume that?”
“Well, because . . . it just should!” Kendra said. “My mother was a sorceress! You’re a wizard!”
“Which means absolutely nothing,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “Your father was a gardener; does that mean you should be a master of flowers?”
“I don’t want to be a gardener,” Kendra replied crossly. “I want to be a sorceress.”
“Do you? Or do you just want to be powerful? There’s a difference.” Uncle Griffinskitch shook his head and sighed. “You share your mother’s stubbornness. She too was a headstrong pupil.”
“How do you know?” Kendra muttered.
“Humph! Because she too was my student. Do you think she was just born gurgling and burbling magic spells? Of course not!”
Kendra blinked in surprise. She had never really thought about her mother having to learn magic; all she had ever heard was that Kayla Kandlestar was a powerful sorceress. Kendra wondered if her mother had once stood in this very garden trying to practice the same lesson. She couldn’t imagine the legendary Kayla Kandlestar having any trouble trying to pluck a simple leaf.
“That’s enough instruction for today,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted. “Come, let’s go take our tea.”
Kendra hung her head and tugged her braids in frustration as she shuffled her feet across the garden towards the yew tree house.
This is way harder than I ever imagined, she thought. I’m stuck here, no magic, no hope to find Kiro before spring. Nothing’s going to happen.
But as Kendra was soon to find out, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Inside her heart, her battle was brewing—and so was one in the outside world.
THAT NIGHT THERE WAS A SHOWER OF FALLING STARS. Kendra watched it in amazement with her uncle from the tiny observatory that was perched at the top of the yew tree. If you have ever seen a falling star, then you know it can be a beautiful sight to behold—now think of a thousand of them all at once and perhaps you will begin to imagine the brilliant spectacle that ignited the skies over the quiet land of Een. To Kendra it seemed as if the heavens themselves were at war.
“Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered as he stroked his long beard. “These stars are an omen; something important is happening in the outside world. Tomorrow we must visit Winter Woodsong.”
“I thought she was across the River Wink, visiting Enid Evermoon,” Kendra said.
“Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch returned. “And that’s where we shall go too; I do not want to wait to hear her wisdom regarding this cosmic storm.”
So at first light Kendra and Uncle Griffinskitch set off to seek the old sorceress known as Winter Woodsong. They crossed the River Wink by way of Peddler’s Bridge and by mid-morning reached the outskirts of Kojo’s Hope, the town where Winter was visiting her friend. Kendra had never been to this part of Een, and she looked upon her new surroundings with interest. On the right side of their path a wall of stone appeared, over which a row of tall yellow flowers nodded gently in the wind. Even though it was autumn, the flowers had not lost their bloom, and as she passed Kendra suddenly heard this song fill the air:
There was an old wizard from Een,
The grumpiest that’s ever been seen.
He always said humph
(What a lot of bumph)
And his odor was just obscene.
Kendra turned and looked in surprise at her uncle.
“Humph,” he grumbled, tugging his beard in irritation. “Pay it no mind.” Yet these words had no sooner left his lips than another song was heard:
There once was a wizard too white
His beard was as long as the night
Or so he would boast
His breath was worse than his bite.
“Er . . . where is it coming from?” Kendra asked.
“The flowers,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered. “We’re passing by the Rainmaker’s Rhapsody; it’s an enchanted garden, renowned for these songbells.”
“They don’t seem to like you very much,” Kendra said.
“Humph,” the old wizard snorted, glaring at the row of flowers leaning over the wall. “Come, let’s leave this place behind and seek Elder Woodsong.”
At that moment, as if to respond to the mention of her name, Winter Woodsong herself stepped out from an opening in the garden wall. “Go no further, old friend,” she said, “for here you find me.”
As the frail old woman spoke, a tapestry of wrinkles shifted across her face. She was a tiny, delicate creature, and she moved slowly and carefully, without vigor. From head to foot she was snow white, for time had bleached her hair and skin of all color, and she was clothed in a gown as pale as a winter’s moon.
“Greetings,” Uncle Griffinskitch said with a slight bow. “What has brought you to the garden, Elder Woodsong?”
“The lovely morning,” Winter replied. “After such a wretched night in the stars, I thought I would leave Enid to her breakfast and come here to meditate.”
“With all these silly songs?” Kendra asked, even as the flowers belted out another chorus.
“Some say to hear the sound of a songbell is to soothe the soul,” Winter explained. “But I’m afraid they take great glee in teasing your uncle. They don’t like the way he treated the Een who first planted this garden.”
“Who was that?” Kendra asked.
“Why, Krimson Kandlestar, your own father of course,” Winter explained. “Did your uncle never tell you?”
Kendra Kandlestar and the Shard From Greeve Page 3
