Bumblestook: Book 1, The Accidental Wizard (44 page)

“It’s justa statue!” Yap yipped.

“Not exactly a work of art,” Tom said, raising one brow, critically. “But good enough to play the part.”

Indeed, it was crudely made, of dark pitted stone with mere slits, gashes and holes for facial features, claw-like hands and feet like bricks.

“What did you say to it?” Fiona asked.

“I asked for the Key,” said Farley.

“Did it say anything back?” Fiona asked

“Not yet,” said Farley. “I don’t know this one and it doesn’t know me. It might take it awhile to talk back. The Earthbound are pretty slow when it comes to thinking and talking and it’s no use trying to hurry them up. Believe me, I’ve tried! Too bad I lost Chip. I sure could use him right now—”

“Oo-oo-oo!” Yap wriggled and dug into his pocket. “Look-ee here what
I
found!” Chip lay in his outstretched palm.

Farley’s eyes widened in surprise. He grinned and ruffled the G-r-r-rog’s furry head. “Atta-boy! Good goin’!” Quickly, he took Chip and placed it flat against the Golem’s pitted chest. “Big Grey! Big Grey! Come in, Big Grey!” he shouted into the creature’s face.

****************************

The shadow being slid from Tall Man’s frame, retreating to crouch against the rock wall. It’s outer edges fluctuated, reflecting its confusion upon hearing the Wizard’s claim.

His wife’s spirit? How could that be? It cast its thoughts back, to its own beginnings. Back to the Pit of Despair, where it had once dwelt without form or memory; without knowledge of who it was or where it belonged. There was no sense of time, no beginning or end, no division of night or day; just mind-numbing sameness, stretching forth into forever. It had been aware of others like itself nearby, but (as they were unable to communicate by sight, voice or touch) all were effectively rendered terribly alone.

In that dreadful place, there were but two choices; to search endlessly for an escape into Somethingness, or to sink further down into Nothingness. Although the beings trapped therein had neither throats, nor tongues, nor any other biological or magical means with which to make a sound; they howled voicelessly in their madness. Such was the power of their despair, that it pressed itself upon the psyche of anyone who ventured near.

This
was the only existence the shadow being had known, before the Master had come.
Malador had drawn it forth, given it a voice and form; and thus, at least, some semblance of life. It understood full well, if it did not do the Master’s bidding, the Nothingness of the Pit would once more be its lot.

In fact, its failure to report the presence of these strangers was in outright defiance of the Master’s will. But, there was something about the Tall Man, something that drew it close to him, something that would not allow it to turn away; even though its very life was forfeit. The thought of this made it tremble and curl in upon itself.

“Mira, my love, be not afraid! It is I, your husband, Kondor Dal! Do you not remember our life together?” Tall Man pleaded.

The shadow being shrank further back, its thoughts in a whirl. The man must have mistaken it for a real person, someone solid like himself. It whimpered in confusion.

“Can you speak?” Tall Man asked gently.

The shadow being tentatively raised its “head”. It was unused to such kind treatment and felt encouraged to respond. “Yes-s-s-s,” it replied in the soft whispery voice, which matched perfectly its nearly non-existent form. “What you say does not make sense.”

“Do you know your name?” Tall Man asked.

“I am nameless,” the shadow being replied.

“All things have a name,” Tall Man said.

The shadow being considered this. “I am next to nothing. A name is not needed for one such as I,” it stated, matter-of-factly.

The tall one hissed with sudden anger. “Who has told you this?”

The shadow shook. “The Master! The Master gave me this form and thus gave me life. With but a thought, he can take it away and I would be no more.”

Tall Man’s dark face flushed darker. “That is a lie,” he said fiercely. “You have been trapped and led to believe that you are dependent upon this form. You fear that were it to be taken away, you would no longer exist, but the truth is the exact opposite. You are an immortal spirit, and you will continue on, no matter what form you take, or indeed, even should you decide to take no form at all!”

The shadow being twisted and swayed. It felt as though it were being blown about by an unseen wind that threatened to pull it apart. It moaned in despair, unaware that this sound, though only a fraction of that emanating from the loathsome pit, made the Wizards’ minds reel and the hair on the backs of their necks stand up.

“An evil Wizard has forced you into this false existence with a powerful spell, but we have come to set you free,” Tall Man persisted.

“Where would I go? What would I do?” The shadow creature asked fearfully. “This life is all that I know!” Its form continued to twist and stretch, becoming so thin in places that gaping holes appeared. It tried to grasp itself at the edges, to pull itself together, but wispy pieces just slipped away and disappeared!

Then, it noticed the Other. So entranced had it been by the Tall One, it had failed to notice what the Other was doing. Too late, now it saw that the Other had closed his eyes and was muttering an incantation under his breath! One hand was outstretched, palm outward toward the shadow, fingers splayed. In the center of his palm, a rosy glow of light. A spell! The Other was casting a spell!

“No, no, I do not wish to become Nothing!” The shadow cried out in desperation.

“You cannot be, nor have you ever been, Nothing! That is a falsehood which you have been led to believe! You have been trapped in a form not of your own choosing, but in a moment you will be free to become whatever you wish to be!” Tall Man declared.

Looking into the fiercely passionate face of Tall Man, for the first time the shadow being felt a small, warm, kernel of hope blossom in its soul.

Suddenly, a wide beam of light lanced straight through the ceiling of rock high above! It stood in front of the Other, pulsing with power, glowing rose-pink, with minute, golden dust motes dancing within. Mesmerized, the Shadow Being was unable to flee from its lethal touch. The Other gestured with his hand, and the beam approached.

“Trust me, you need not fear this light,” Tall Man said urgently. “It will not harm you. Its purpose is to take you to a place of safety. A place where you will be free to choose!”

The overwhelming sincerity in the tall one’s eyes and voice, touched the Shadow Being’s soul; giving it strength to be still and wait, as the Other directed the beam closer. Then, in a spontaneous burst of courage, the Shadow Being spread wide what was left of its disappearing form, to bathe in the rosy glow.

Miraculously, it did not burn! In fact, the touch was cool and soothing! The last few wisps of its scant form dissolved and the being, that was once of shadow, was transformed into a being of light. As it traveled up the beam, it looked down into the face of its savior, to see a tear roll slowly down the side of Tall Man’s face. Then, it passed through the solid rock of the mountain, as if it were air; rising up and away, to a new life.

Kondor bowed his head as the light beam disappeared.

“That was very well done, my friend,” said Bartholeumous, clasping his companion on the shoulder.

Kondor nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak.

“And now, we must do the same for the others,” Bartholeumous told him. “ I can conjure a Spirit Guide Beam large enough to handle all of the Spirits in the Pit, but the barrier may present a difficulty.”

“That is not a problem. I know a counter-spell for Sizings.”

“Excellent. By now, Imperious will have seen to it that all Transformation Temples are put on high alert. They will be prepared to gather up the Spirits, as soon as we release them. However, if the barrier is removed too soon, the Spirits will escape the Pit and scatter. If that happens, they will be nearly impossible to find. We shall have to time it precisely.”

“It can be done,” Kondor reassured him.

*******************************

Niblix approached the end of the tunnel reluctantly, with his head bowed and his hands cupped tightly around his ears. It didn’t really help much, as the sounds from the Pit were not actual noise, but psychic waves. They easily penetrated his skull to invade his mind, causing the hair on the back of his neck to bristle and setting his buck teeth on edge. When he reached the mouth of the tunnel, he paused to contemplate how best to cross the expanse before him. He would have to hug the walls, to be sure, for a direct route across the middle would lead him right past the Pit of Despair. That would surely be the end, of whatever was left of his sanity!

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, against the mental onslaught of the creatures in the pit, he was about to step out; when he noticed movement on the other side of the cavern, in the mouth of a tunnel across from him.

With a sharp intake of breath, the Skurrier quickly flattened himself against the wall, then peered cautiously around the corner. The silvery-blue glow, of the Pit’s barrier, provided some light; but not enough to see clearly—not nearly enough, no—to see if this be friend or foe. Come to think of it, he had no friends here, so he would have to wait, yes-indeedy he would, until the coast was completely clear.

Suddenly, the tunnel across the way was filled with warm yellow light, throwing the two figures standing there into sharp silhouette. Wizards! Almost certainly they were, judging by their voluminous cloaks and glowing staffs. Did they see him? No, no, he didn’t think so. Their focus seemed to be on the awful Pit in the center; although it was best, to be sure, to
avoid
looking directly at the thing, as the pitiful creatures within could sense one’s presence and would set to wailing even more!

He could see that the Wizards were hard at Wizard–work. They had propped their staffs against the wall, where they glowed like torches to dispel the gloom. The shorter, burly one had his hand outstretched, fingers splayed, a ball of pink light glowing in his palm. The taller, bald one held a wand, which he pointed straight at the barrier, as he mumbled what was, no-doubt, a spell. A thin, stream of green light lanced out to touch the glowing wall around the Pit of Despair.

The Skurrier’s jaw dropped as he stared in disbelief! The bald Wizard had raised the barrier! He watched in horror, as the blue-white circular wall rose into the air! Was the Wizard
insane
? Had the sounds from the Pit completely addled his brain?

Niblix was about to flee, his plan forgotten, when he witnessed something which held him transfixed. In the blink of an eye, the barrier had shrunk to the size of a small ring! Eagerly, his eyes followed its path, as it flew swiftly across the cavern and into the bald Wizard’s hand.

He barely had time to realize the significance of this (A Sizing! The Wizard had performed a Sizing!) when—
whoosh!
A huge beam of light sliced through the rock above, straight down into the Pit of Despair! It was a Spirit Guide Beam (he could tell by its rosy color and the motes of golden dust swirling within) such as those used by the Temples of Transformation! What was it doing here?

And then, suddenly, thankfully, the wailing and keening from the awful pit was gone! The Skurrier’s hands fell limply from his ears and he watched in wonder, as scores of beings made of light rode the sparkling beam, up through the rock ceiling and disappeared! Next, the beam itself winked out of existence and the cavern was plunged into gloom.

Niblix gasped as he came to his senses with only one thought in mind. Must hurry! Must hurry! Mustn’t lose sight of that Wizard! Tossing caution aside, he dashed across the cavern floor, toward the Wizard who had performed the Sizing.

*****************************

Malador’s head snapped up from the long-fingered hand upon which it had rested.
Something
was different!
Something
had changed in an instant. His eyes narrowed and shifted from side to side, seeking the source of his disturbance. They swept across the throne room and raked the stone ceiling that soared, cathedral-like, far above his head.

The flickering sconces set into the walls shed little light, but this was no inconvenience to him, for his pale skin emitted its own ice-blue, phosphorous glow and his ruby eyes could see quite well in the dark. He saw nothing alarming, nothing out of place; not that there was much to see. Walls, floor and ceiling were of raw, unadorned rock, as he had no need, nor patience, for décor. There were no shelves or curio cabinets for the display of foolish mementos or sentimental keepsakes. No rugs lay scattered to take away the chill of the cold, stone floor; highly polished, not for beauty, but to cause those summoned within to walk slowly and carefully lest they slip and fall. Neither were any chairs provided for Malador’s guests, for his intent was never to set them at ease, by providing any sort of comfort. The only furniture in the room was the granite throne, which sat above all, on its polished dais of jet-black stone.