Kendra Kandlestar and the Shard From Greeve

by Lee Edward Födi

  Kendra cast Uncle Griffinskitch a curious look, her mind instantly filled with questions. But before she could ask any of them, Winter said, “Come with me, my friends, and we shall sit in the garden. The flowers shall turn to more tranquil songs at my request.”

  Without waiting for a response, the old sorceress turned and led them through the gate and into the Rainmaker’s Rhapsody. She sang a little tune of her own, and immediately the songbells ceased their limericks and began humming a gentle melody; Kendra immediately felt the mood shift in the garden, and her own heart felt peaceful.

  Before long, Winter came to a stop in what seemed to be the very center of the garden. Here stood a large stone statue of an Een man with long braids. This was none other than Leemus Longbraids, one of the founders of the land of Een (Kendra recognized him from the pictures in her history books). The statue of Leemus stood bold and dignified, with one hand outstretched to hold a perfectly round stone. This stone, Kendra knew, was meant to symbolize the magic orb, one of the Elders’ most magical items.

  “We have many words to exchange, old friend,” Winter said, casting a meaningful look at Uncle Griffinskitch.

  “Aye,” the wizard responded. “But there are ears everywhere. Perhaps this garden is not the—ahem—best place for us to confer.”

  “Do not worry,” Winter declared. “The songbells will stand guard for us, if only one knows how to ask.” With this said, the old sorceress closed her eyes, raised her hands, and chanted to the garden:

  Sing to the wind, dear flowers, and be not brief;

  Yet, if some soul this way comes, harboring grief—

  Then hush your petals, tremble not a leaf,

  And I may be warned of my whisper’s thief.

  When she had completed her incantation, Winter opened her eyes and smiled. “Now we may speak freely. Come, I will take my favorite seat in the garden.” She hobbled over to a small toadstool that was growing in the shade beneath the outstretched arm of the stone statue. “Many an hour have I idled here in the shadow of old Leemus Longbraids,” Winter remarked. “I like to think I can feel his ancient wisdom. Now, let us speak of last night. I trust you witnessed the storm in the stars?”

  “Aye,” Uncle Griffinskitch said with a stroke of his beard. “I fear trouble is stirring. Surely, the stars are telling us that something has been destroyed or lost out there in the world beyond the magic curtain.”

  Winter nodded in agreement. “I believe there are those who would retrieve this lost thing. But they are not working together; indeed, they are making war!” Winter paused for a moment and turned to look intently upon Kendra. “I cannot help but think, child, that your actions may have something do with this.”

  “Me!” Kendra cried, tugging one of her braids. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing at all,” Winter replied impishly, “except cross into the forbidden Greeven Wastes and destroy the Door to Unger, a most sacred place to the monsters that skitter and crawl across the outside world.”

  “Do you think the Ungers are trying rebuild the door?” Uncle Griffinskitch asked.

  “Would such a thing be possible?” Winter wondered. “Kendra, tell me the story of what happened when you were cast through that wretched portal.”

  “But I’ve told you everything already,” Kendra said.

  “Tell me again,” Winter said. “These old ears would like to hear it once more.”

  “Well,” said Kendra after a moment’s pause. “It’s as I’ve said before. When the Door to Unger opened, we were all pulled inside the maze. It was meant to trick us, to play on our fears, and turn us into monsters—Ungers, Izzards, and such.”

  “But you did not succumb to this curse; you found your way to the center of the maze,” Winter said.

  Kendra nodded. “And there I met the ghost of the Wizard Greeve haunting the maze. But then the whole temple began to crumble. The ghost told me that because I had defeated him, the maze, the door—everything—would be destroyed. But the ghost showed us a way out; and as long as we stayed in his path of light we’d remain in our true forms. Then Kiro stepped out of the light at the very end, so I think he must still be changed back to a creature’s form. The last I saw of him, he was Trooogul the Unger.”

  For many moments, Winter said nothing. Her brow furrowed, and she seemed lost in deep thought. At long last she said, “Your brother, Kendra, plays a part in this, I’m sure, whether he’s Trooogul or Kiro. But tell me, child, what else did you see in the center of the maze?”

  “Nothing,” Kendra replied. “Just a podium of stone and a broken cauldron. The ghost was rising up from it.”

  “Ah,” Winter murmured.

  “What is it?” Kendra asked.

  “The cauldron of Greeve,” Uncle Griffinskitch answered for the old woman. “During the dawn of Een, the Wizard Greeve cursed his brothers. Only one—old Leemus Longbraids here—escaped his act of rage.”

  “Your mother, Kendra, was convinced of a legend that told how Greeve brewed the curse in his cauldron,” Winter added. “The curse was so vile, so full of hatred, that they say it caused his cauldron to shatter.”

  “The very cauldron, Kendra, that you discovered in the center of the maze,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If the legend is true, then the shattered remains of the cauldron would be relics of great power.”

  “But the maze was destroyed,” Kendra said. “Surely the cauldron was too.”

  “It’s possible,” Winter mused. “Or perhaps the fragments were recovered.”

  “That still doesn’t explain what we have seen in the stars,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “If someone recovered the pieces, then the cauldron is not lost.”

  “Unless no single party has all the fragments,” Winter suggested. “It remains a mystery yet. When I return to—,”

  She paused, for the songbells had abruptly ceased to make their music. The ancient sorceress put a finger to her lips, and all three of them looked about nervously. After the melodious singing of the enchanted songbells, it seemed uncomfortably quiet in the garden.

  For a moment, Kendra thought she spotted something slipping past the stems of the songbells, but it was just as quickly gone. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. I must be imagining things, she thought.

  Then a loud crack came from above, and Kendra looked up to see the great stone ball rolling from the hand of the statue. It was plummeting right towards Winter!

  Before Kendra could even think to take action, Uncle Griffinskitch flicked his staff, quickly lifting Winter out of the way. With a thud, the stone crashed into the toadstool, right where Winter had been sitting, leaving behind nothing more than a flattened, pulpy mass.

  “It seems I owe you my life, Gregor,” Winter said, after taking the briefest of moments to find her wits.

  “How could the statue just crumble like that?” Kendra asked.

  “It was no accident, I assure you,” Winter declared.

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch grunted. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Someone,” Winter said solemnly, “is trying to kill me.”

  UNCLE GRIFFINSKITCH was a quiet Een but was rarely speechless. Kendra knew him to grunt or snort or humph at any available opportunity, but at this moment the old wizard was at a complete loss for words. All the color had drained from his face, and he looked as white as Winter Woodsong herself.

  Then the songbells started singing again, and this seemed to break Uncle Griffinskitch’s trance. “Who would try to harm you?” he demanded.

  “Hard to say,” Winter said cryptically.

  “I think I saw someone,” Kendra said, thinking back to the shadow in the songbells. “He was hiding in the garden, just before the statue crumbled.”

  “Humph!” Uncle Griffinskitch uttered, and Kendra knew it was the type of humph that meant that he had made up his mind to go investigate. With a flutter of his white beard, the wizard turned and disappeared into the lush grove of flowers.

  Kendra moved to follow hi
m, but Winter said, “Let him go, child. His search will be in vain. The songbells sing again; the culprit, whoever it was, has made his escape.”

  “Aren’t you afraid, Elder Woodsong?” Kendra asked.

  “When you’ve been around as long as I have, the only thing that frightens you is another birthday,” Winter said with a chuckle.

  Kendra stared at her in bewilderment. Only a moment ago, the old woman had nearly met her death, and now here she sat, cracking a joke. But this was the way of Winter Woodsong. A visit with her was like trying to solve a riddle.

  “Do not fret, child,” Winter said. “One of the advantages of being so old is that you know a trick or two that no one else has yet learned. Let’s not worry for now. While we wait for that uncle of yours to return, speak to me of your studies. How do they fare?”

  “Oh, well . . . er, fine, I suppose,” Kendra mumbled, looking uncomfortably at the ground.

  “Trouble quieting your mind?” Winter inquired.

  “How did you know?” Kendra asked.

  “Many a young apprentice of magic struggles with focus,” Winter answered. “Even that uncle of yours! I remember when he was my apprentice. He was a restless boy indeed!”

  “Uncle Griffinskitch was your apprentice?” Kendra gasped.

  “Of course. You didn’t think he trained himself did you?” Winter asked with a chuckle. “And now I see that you too, Kendra, are growing impatient with your lessons.”

  “It’s not that,” Kendra explained, tugging on her longest braid. “It’s just that . . .”

  “You wish to find your brother,” Winter finished.

  Kendra nodded.

  “Patience, child,” Winter said. “There is something transpiring out there in that world. Now is not the time to rush into it.”

  “That’s what Uncle Griffinskitch says,” Kendra said, her face flushing. “Always, it’s ‘patience!’ But he just doesn’t understand. I must find Kiro.”

  “Oh, I think your uncle understands all too well,” Winter asserted. “Remember this: his sister—your own mother—rushed into the outside world, never to be seen again. Kendra, you must forgive us old folk for our cautious, practiced ways; please, do not be rash. We can’t afford to lose you like we lost your mother.”

  “But it’s ridiculous!” Kendra cried fervently. “We know Kiro’s out there. Why can’t we just go get him?”

  “And how do you suggest beginning?”

  “We should go before the elders,” Kendra declared. “We should tell them the truth, that my brother was turned into a beast by the Door to Unger. That maybe my parents were changed too. That there might be countless Eens transformed. Maybe the council will arrange a search party, help us go out there and find them.”

  “A noble plan, child,” Winter said with a nod. “But Burdock will not listen to such ideas.”

  “It’s not an idea,” Kendra proclaimed. “It’s the truth.”

  “That may be so,” Winter agreed with a gentle smile. “But you will come to understand, Kendra, that there are those in this world who are only interested in the truth they want to believe. Why, if you tell Burdock that Eens may have some connection to the creatures of the outside world, he will call you a traitor and cast you into the dungeon before you can tug a single braid! Burdock wants nothing to do with the outside lands. If he had his way, Een would be an island and he, its king.”

  It was at this moment that Uncle Griffinskitch returned. His brow was furled in frustration. “I found nothing.”

  “As I suspected,” Winter replied. “But I assure you, someone is trying to harm me. Do you remember my prolonged illness this past spring?”

  “Of course,” Uncle Griffinskitch said. “It forced you to step down from the council.”

  “Indeed,” Winter said. “But it was no illness, I’m afraid. It appears I was poisoned.”

  “Days of Een!” Uncle Griffinskitch uttered. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure,” Winter said, and Kendra could not help wondering how the old woman spoke so matter-of-factly. “You see,” Winter continued, “I had Professor Bumblebean analyze my cup. Someone, it seems, was lacing my drink with a few drops of skerpent blood. Why, it’s nearly as toxic as Krake venom.”

  “But if you were poisoned,” Kendra said, “then how come you’re still . . . er . . .”

  “Alive?” Winter asked with a merry laugh. “Well, it seems I have you and your uncle to thank for that, Kendra. Do you remember the fireflowers that you brought to me upon your visit all those months ago? After the flowers wilted, I brewed tea from their petals. As you know, the fireflower has incredible healing power; the tea counteracted the poison and managed to restore my health. It was then that I began to suspect the truth about my so-called illness. But that is not all.”

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered. “What else?”

  “Last week, someone cast a slipping spell upon one of the steps leading down from my chamber,” Winter said. “If I had not discovered the curse, I would have tumbled all the way to the bottom of the stairwell. Surely, these old bones of mine would not have survived the fall.”

  “What’s the meaning of all this?” Kendra asked.

  “Simply put,” Winter said, “someone is trying to assassinate me.”

  “This is quite unsettling,” Uncle Griffinskitch declared. “Who would commit such a crime?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know for sure,” Winter replied, leaning heavily on her wooden staff. “But I suspect it is the workings of Burdock Brown.”

  “Burdock has become a foul and decrepit man,” Uncle Griffinskitch said, “but I doubt even he would be capable of such a heinous act.”

  “I wish I shared your opinion,” Winter said. “But Burdock fears and envies me. Many Eens, especially the animals, are starting to think that I should rejoin the council, even in my old age. That, of course, would mean Burdock losing some of his power, and he would never let that happen.”

  Uncle Griffinskitch sighed and rubbed his long beard, as if weighing the situation in his mind.

  “We must take this before the council,” the old wizard said at last. “We must denounce Burdock for his treachery.”

  “I’m afraid such an endeavor would be in vain,” Winter fretted. “I have no proof of Burdock’s crimes. Besides, you of all Eens, Gregor, should know how tightly Burdock has the council wrapped around his crooked finger.”

  “We can’t just let him get away with this!” Kendra cried. “We have to fight him!”

  “Spoken like a true Kandlestar,” Winter said. “But I would ask you both to put your minds at ease. I have no intention of letting Burdock Brown succeed.”

  “Humph,” Uncle Griffinskitch muttered. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I have a plan,” Winter replied.

  “Then I suggest you share it,” Uncle Griffinskitch declared.

  “Trust me in this, old friend,” Winter said, leaning forward. “The less you know, the better.”

  But the old wizard was unimpressed. “Kendra and I will return at once to Faun’s End,” he told the sorceress. “You must come with us.”

  “Oh, you’ll have to leave without me,” the old woman said. “I’ve arranged to take tea with Enid Evermoon; I’ll make my way home afterwards.”

  “That’s hardly wise,” Uncle Griffinskitch snorted. “You should not be wandering about alone! Not after what’s just happened.”

  But Winter simply smiled. There is a famous adage in the land of Een: Brittle and weak may grow the bones, but stubbornness will only bud and bloom, which is really just another way of saying that the old are very good at getting their way. Of course, Winter Woodsong was as old as the trees, and no amount of argument from Uncle Griffinskitch would deter the sorceress from her plans. In the end, Kendra and her uncle made the trip across Peddler’s Bridge without her.

  As Kendra trudged across the bridge, she found herself gazing down upon the waters of the River Wink, which were swirling almost as much a
s her mind. Would someone—even Burdock Brown—really dare to harm Winter Woodsong?

  If he’s capable of hurting Elder Woodsong, then no one inside the land of Een is safe, Kendra thought. Little did she realize just how right she was—but she was to find out, all too soon.

  SOMEONE WAS WAITING FOR THEM at the end of the bridge. It caught Kendra by surprise; one moment the path was empty, and the next, there stood a mysterious figure, as if he had appeared there by some sudden magic. Kendra tugged her braids. The stranger was clothed head to foot in a long cloak with a heavy cowl that completely concealed his face. Kendra could not decide the color of this cloak; within the space of a breath it appeared brown, dark green, and then even transparent, for it seemed to reveal the hues of the foliage behind him. His hands she could see; these were knotted and thin, like claws, and on one bony finger he wore a ring set with a large purple stone, dark and brooding.

  “Who is that?” Kendra whispered to her uncle, but the old man could only muster a quiet “humph.” She knew that kind of humph; just like Kendra, Uncle Griffinskitch was trying to measure the situation.

  As they stepped from the wooden planks of the old bridge onto the bank, Burdock Brown, Captain Rinkle, and the entire Een guard (all armed with spears and heavy clubs) appeared from the surrounding bushes.

  “I warned you, Gregor,” Burdock snapped, wagging a finger in Uncle Griffinskitch’s face. “You’ve crossed the line again, and this time you’ve been caught.”

  “Speak plainly, Burdock,” Uncle Griffinskitch grumbled. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Let me introduce you to Leerlin Lurk,” Burdock Brown continued, gesturing towards the stranger in the mysterious cloak. “He’s my new Agent of Magical Detection.”

  “Which means?” Uncle Griffinskitch asked.

  “He tracks down and catches the miscreants who abuse the use of magic,” Burdock announced.

  Kendra watched her uncle cast a dismissive glance in Agent Lurk’s direction. Then he looked back at Burdock, muttering sarcastically, “Very impressive. The scary cloak is a nice touch.”