Changing the Prophecy Chapter Seven Episode 2

 

Chapter 7 The Prophet of the Khoum -- Episode 2

“Reggie. Dad,” Sonjay continued, “Tell me about the High Shaman of Khoum.”

A perplexed look crossed Reggie’s face. “Where to begin?” He paused, thinking. “Well, about two hundred years ago…”

“Two hundred years ago!” Sonjay interrupted. “Please start this story a little closer to now.”

“Patience, boy,” Crumpet said. “We’re not in a hurry to go anywhere.”

“As I said, two hundred years ago, there was a quiet boy who kept to himself. Some people thought he was an intuit at first since he said almost nothing and when he did speak, he spoke only in phrases of few words, often cryptic, much like the intuits speak. But he wasn’t an intuit. When he turned sixteen, he left his home at the Wolf Circle and went to live in a cave in the Amber Mountains.”

Buttercup interrupted to say, “He had started his training as an enchanter by then and he was remarkably good.”

Reggie continued. “Yes. He was one of the best, and his teachers expected him to become a powerful enchanter one day. But he abandoned his training and spent nearly fifteen years virtually alone in the caves. He would occasionally return to the Wolf Circle for supplies, to find out the latest news of activities in the land, and to visit his family. During the time that he lived in the caves, he wrote the Mystical Book. When he emerged from the caves, he had the appearance of one much older than his years. He returned to the Wolf Circle where he invited four enchanters much older than he to study the Mystical Book with him and to learn how to use it.”

“You forgot to mention,” Buttercup interjected, “that while he lived in the caves, he also created the Book of Healing (commonly called the herbal), which your sister carries and your Aunt Alice carried before her.

“The herbal?” Sonjay repeated. Sonjay knew the book that Doshmisi carried contained powerful enchantment.

“Yes,” Reggie confirmed. “He constructed the herbal specifically for the greatest healer in the land and presented it to her when he was not much more than thirty years old. During his lifetime, he trained four Prophets of the Khoum, using the Mystical Book as their guide. I have that Mystical Book in my possession.”

Buttercup’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.

“Here? You have it here?” Crumpet demanded.

Reggie nodded his head.

“But it disappeared a hundred years ago with the last living Prophet of the Khoum, who left the Wolf Circle one night and never returned,” Crumpet recounted.

“True that. I have learned that the last Prophet did not leave the Wolf Circle of his own free will. Someone kidnapped him and placed him in this cell,” Reggie informed them.

“How do you know?” Buttercup asked.

Reggie produced a small, worn book with a maroon leather cover that had gone soft from handling. “This is the Mystical Book. The original. When Sissrath locked me in this cell, I went over every inch of it in search of a way to escape. I checked every brick, and I discovered that one of the bricks moved. When I slid it out, I found the book. The book contains a message written in the front cover by the last Prophet of the Khoum. He described his kidnapping. Sadly, he wrote that if he died in this cell, he didn’t want the book to fall into the wrong hands. So he hid it behind the brick. I began to study the book and to engage in the practices of mystical thought. I’m no enchanter, but I have learned mind and body control and I have gained knowledge of certain spiritual practices. One night, I entered the dreams of Sissrath in the form of the High Shaman of Khoum. Scared the living daylights out of him.” Reggie chuckled at the memory. “It was one of my better moments. They have been few and far between.”

“It didn’t take Sissrath long to figure it out. He almost took the book from me,” Reggie continued. “But Sissrath doesn’t know how to use the Mystical Book and it refuses to open to his commands. I suddenly became extremely useful to him. So we started playing what I think of as ‘The Game’. He would need an answer and I would negotiate for comforts. That is how I happen to have such a lovely den here in this dungeon. We have had many stalemates over the years. Certain things I refused to tell him. Certain things he refused to do for me. But I have survived. This book saved my life. I regret that I could not find a way to free myself and return to my children. I have clung to my faith that one day I would see my children again.” Tears shone in Reggie’s eyes. “Today is that day. Sonjay stands before me. And I have faith that I will see the others one day too.”

“It could happen,” Sonjay agreed. “We got separated during the passage into Faracadar, but I bet they’re in the land somewhere. If we can escape from this cell, I think we’ll find them before long.”

“Escape from this cell? I speak from experience when I say that’s not easy,” Reggie warned.

“We almost just rescued you. Escape is easier now because Sissrath’s Special Forces have gone with Compost to blockade Big House City and Sissrath has made the glorious mistake of leaving these foolish Corportons in charge here at the Final Fortress. They don’t have the power of enchantment,” Crumpet said.

“Neither do you,” Reggie responded.

Crumpet puffed his chest out and blustered, “I may not be the most consistent enchanter. I admit that I lose control when I get angry. But most of the time I manage rather well.”

“You misunderstand,” Reggie explained. “I wasn’t commenting on your competence as an enchanter. I was referring to the fact that Sissrath has woven enchantments throughout these dungeons to prevent enchanters from using their powers inside the confines of these prison cells.”

“We don’t necessarily need enchantments to escape. We need ingenuity, courage, and luck,” Sonjay insisted.

“What he said!” Buttercup agreed enthusiastically. “And Sonjay, while we think about an escape plan, you can make good use of your time by working on your training. How about the first lesson?”

Sonjay grinned as he sat down on the rug, crossed his legs, and gave Buttercup his full attention. “Bring it.”

“OK. First, clear your mind of all thoughts,” Buttercup instructed.

“What? That’s impossible,” Sonjay complained.

“He has a point, you know. It’s the nature of the human mind to be active,” Reggie reminded Buttercup.

“It would surprise you to discover how clear a mind can get when you begin sweeping it of clutter,” Buttercup said firmly. “Thoughts will drift in, but do this:  examine each thought, make a note of it, and let it pass through. Try not to attach any feeling to it. Just say to yourself ‘yes, well, I am thinking about a peanut butter sandwich and now that thought is passing through and now it is drifting away and now it’s gone’ and then notice what thought comes next and let it pass through. To calm your mind, focus on your breathing. Listen to your breathing, feel the breath going in and out, and let your mind rest upon it.”

“This sounds like meditation,” Reggie noted.

“Correct. We enchanters think of it as freeing the mind of clutter in preparation for inviting in the energy that provides the raw material for enchantment,” Buttercup explained.

“To function as an enchanter,” Crumpet added, “you have to learn how to unclutter the mind and tap into the energy instantly; tapping the energy has to become second nature, automatic. I run into trouble because I can’t set aside my emotions and I can’t clear out my anger. If I could learn to clear out anger at my command, then I would never turn into a cinnamon roll again,” he concluded with a slightly mournful edge to his words.

“Well then I don’t understand how Sissrath became such a powerful enchanter when he’s so angry and vengeful,” Sonjay responded.

“That’s not true anger or vengeance you see in him,” Crumpet explained. “He has no feelings. He is cerebral and calculating. He is reptilian. He has even forgotten why he seeks absolute power. He is empty.”

“He has no humanity,” Buttercup said. “And he has created an inner space for himself that is inhabited by negative energy.”

Reggie put his hand on Sonjay’s shoulder and said, “Sissrath has lost track of love. He deserves our pity, not our hatred. Now focus on your lesson here. Try to clear your mind. I’ll do it with you.” Reggie sat on the carpet next to his son and concentrated on his breathing.

Sonjay closed his eyes and attempted to think nothing. He listened to his breath. Then he felt the rush of feathers as Bayard Rustin perched on his head. He reached up and patted the bird. “How can I unclutter my mind with a bird on my head?” He opened his eyes and laughed.

“Even better,” Buttercup told him. “If you can free your mind of clutter with a bird on your head then you can do it in most any situation. Some enchanters choose a word they use to trigger their preparation. They train themselves to say a word that causes them to instantly prepare their mind for enchantment.”

“Do you have a trigger word?” Sonjay asked curiously.

“Of course,” Buttercup answered.

“What is it?”

“It’s private. I don’t tell it to anyone.”

Sonjay stroked Bayard and decided that his trigger word would be “feathers.” The word made him think of weightlessness and flying and, of course, the crazy parrot he loved. “How do I use my trigger word?”

“You repeat the word over and over in your mind as you try to prepare to empty yourself of thoughts and emotions and allow the energy from which enchantments are made to enter into you,” Buttercup instructed.

“What exactly is that energy?” Sonjay asked.

To his surprise, his father answered before either of the enchanters in the room could say a word. “Spirit,” Reggie said softly. “Everything seen and unseen, living and dead, in this plane and in those planes of existence outside of our grasp, has spirit. All living things have spirit and all inanimate objects carry a residue of spirit. Spirit is a force of energy with an impact. Each person has their own relationship to spirit. There you have the teaching of the Mystical Book in a nutshell. You have to find your own unique spiritual core and your spiritual channels.”

“Precisely,” Buttercup agreed approvingly. “I could not have stated it better than the Prophet.”

It surprised Sonjay when Buttercup referred to his father as “the Prophet.” He would have to get used to having a father with valuable powers. He would have to get used to having a father at all.

Changing the Prophecy Chapter Seven Episode 1

 

Chapter 7 The Prophet of the Khoum -- Episode 1

At the appearance of the figures-in-white, Crumpet roared with displeasure. He stretched out his hand, recited an enchantment that caused him to vibrate and emit a buzzing sound and then, with a pop, he turned into a tea kettle. Buttercup plucked him from the ground by the handle, muttering, “Couldn’t you have at least managed to become a knife or a shovel or something I could use as a weapon, ya bonehead?”

As the figures-in-white descended on them, Sonjay wished with all his might that he, his father, Crumpet, and Buttercup were somewhere else, far from the dungeons of the Final Fortress. He pictured himself and the others sitting at the kitchen table at Manzanita Ranch eating Aunt Alice’s delicious cherry pie straight from the oven.

Buttercup started to run down the corridor with Crumpet-the-tea-kettle tucked under her arm. Without warning or apparent reason, Sonjay, Buttercup, and Reggie collapsed onto the floor. Sonjay thought for a minute that he had been shot, but as far as he could recall no one had shot him and he was not in pain. He felt as if he had turned into a giant jellyfish. His insides had gone all rubbery and smishy-feeling and he could barely move. The figures-in-white lowered their guns and studied Sonjay and the others, who flopped on the floor. One of the figures-in-white poked Sonjay gingerly with his foot. Sonjay wobbled and quivered like pudding. He wanted to grab that foot and twist it, but he couldn’t raise his hand. The figures-in-white rolled Sonjay, Buttercup, and Reggie into Reggie’s prison cell. Bayard picked up Crumpet-the-tea-kettle in his powerful beak and flew inside before the door clanged shut and locked behind them.

Sonjay howled with frustration. He could barely move and alien creatures had locked him in a cell in the Final Fortress for the second time in his life.

After Sonjay’s howl died away, Buttercup told the others, “That wasn’t me.”

“What do you mean that wasn’t you?” Sonjay snapped.

Buttercup ignored him and continued, “And it wasn’t Crumpet because he’s indisposed. Your father is not an enchanter, so we know it wasn’t him. It could have been the aliens because we don’t know their capabilities. But I wanna say, by their reaction, that they had no idea what happened to us. So I’m gonna say it had to be you, Sonjay.”

“Me? Me what?” Sonjay demanded. His nose itched and he couldn’t scratch it with his wobbly arm.

“You tried to throw an enchantment.”

“Throw it,” Bayard squawked.

“Ridiculous. I don’t know how,” Sonjay argued.

“My point exactly. What went through your mind right before it happened?” Buttercup asked him.

“I wished we could disappear and go far away from the Final Fortress. I imagined us at Manzanita Ranch eating Aunt Alice’s fresh-baked cherry pie,” Sonjay explained. “With vanilla ice cream,” he added.

“You picked a fine time to come of age,” Buttercup scolded. “You have the mark of the crescent moon on your wrist, the same as Princess Honeydew, the mark of a born enchanter. Now you must restore us. Listen and do as I say. Close your eyes and visualize us here, right in this cell,” Buttercup instructed. Sonjay did as she told him and they soon found themselves restored to normal (all except Crumpet-the-tea-kettle).

Buttercup set Crumpet-the-tea-kettle on the floor and told the others, rather absently, “He does this so often these days that Cardamom taught me how to change him back. Give me a minute here to fix this.” Buttercup aimed an enchantment at her husband, who transformed back into himself.

As Crumpet dusted his shoulders off, Buttercup informed him gleefully, “Sonjay has come of age.”

“How do you know?” Crumpet asked.

“Because he just attempted to locomotaport us and instead he deboned us; sent our bones somewhere. He didn’t realize he had almost thrown an enchantment because he has never done one. You get what this means don’t ya, babycakes?” Buttercup gushed with excitement.

“What does it mean?” Sonjay asked.

“Back in the day, Hazamon could locomotaport. It’s a rare skill. Only the most gifted enchanters can do it. It means that we have here in this cell, in you, one of the potentially most powerful enchanters in all of Faracadar. We need to train you. Too bad Cardamom didn’t get locked up with us. Crumpet and I will have to do for the time being.”

“I don’t have time to train to become an enchanter. We have to get out of here as soon as possible.” Sonjay stamped his foot in exasperation.

“While we work on that, consider yourself officially in training,” Buttercup insisted.

“I refuse to study anything from Crumpet. He’ll teach me how to turn myself into a sweet potato pie whenever I try to throw an enchantment,” Sonjay grumbled.

“Do as I say,” Crumpet said with a frown, “not as I do.”

“He knows much more about enchanting than you do,” Buttercup chided. “And he’s your elder so show some respect.”

Reggie cleared his throat. “If I may,” he interjected, “I have spent the last ten years studying the Mystical Book of the High Shaman of Khoum. Even though I lack the ability to produce enchantments, I have learned a great deal of value that could prove useful in the hands of a skilled enchanter. For this reason Sissrath has kept me alive and well-tended in this cell. Sometimes, when I clear my mind of all extraneous thoughts and the energy falls just about right, I can see into the future.”

Sonjay’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

“So you’re a Prophet of the Khoum?” Buttercup asked with growing excitement.

“I believe so,” Reggie replied humbly.

“Way cool,” Sonjay commented, as Bayard squawked, “Khoum, Khoum, Khoum.”

Buttercup cackled gleefully and pinched Crumpet’s arm. “Couldn’t have picked a better pair for the Corportons to lock us into a cell with, eh, babycakes?”

“Not in a million years,” he replied, whistling the final “s” through his teeth in a way that sounded very like a tea kettle whistling.

 “What is the Prophet of the Khoum?” Sonjay asked.

Buttercup settled her considerable bulk into Reggie’s desk chair at his large work table and focused her full attention on him. “What have you seen of the future and how much of it have you shared with Sissrath?”

“Do you know where Sissrath is and what diabolical scheme he has rattling around in his twisted brain?” Crumpet asked.

“Berries,” Bayard contributed to the conversation.

“Whoa, whoa,” Reggie said, as he held a hand up in defense and sat on his bed, since Buttercup had commandeered his only chair. “Too many questions. Let’s take one thing at a time. A few months ago I had a vision of the arrival of the aliens in the white suits. I don’t know what they really look like. I think they come from outside Faracadar. I believe they come from the future, but from what land, I can’t say. Before they arrived, I envisioned them destroying Faracadar and I cast the prophecy of the destruction for Sissrath. I did so because I hoped that the forewarning provided by the prophecy might help him save at least some of the people. Instead of using the knowledge to try to save the people or the land, he applied it to the task of saving himself. He apparently cut a deal with the aliens. They signed a contract with him, bound by his enchantment, that they will take him with them to their land if he helps them on their mission here. He plans to escape with them while the rest of us spin to our death as part of whatever cataclysmic event will occur to bring about the coming destruction.”

“Berries,” the bird squawked more urgently, unimpressed with Reggie’s prediction of an apocalyptic disaster.

“Could you see what event will destroy Faracadar?” Buttercup asked, with apprehension.

“It has something to do with the poisoning of the ocean,” Reggie answered.

“Do you know where Sissrath is now?” Crumpet asked.

“No,” Reggie shook his head regretfully.

“We know that the aliens plan to go back to their own land eventually because they agreed to take Sissrath with them,” Sonjay said, as he pondered the information he had just received. “They came here on a mission. That means they are after something. It seems as though they came here to get something and when they have it they’ll take it with them and leave. I figure Faracadar is in danger of destruction because of the impending loss of the thing the aliens came here to take, or from the process of obtaining whatever they came to take.”

“Berries, berries, berries,” the bird insisted. He pecked Sonjay on the hand.

“Reggie, do you have any fruit up in here? Any fruit at all? This heap of feathers will drive me nuts if he doesn’t get something to eat,” Sonjay said. Reggie took a jar down off a shelf and opened the lid. He set the jar in front of Bayard who peered inside and exclaimed delightedly, “Raisins!” The bird greedily picked raisins from the jar one by one.

“When you envision something, does it always come to pass?” Buttercup asked.

“So far, yes,” Reggie replied. “That’s why Sissrath took me seriously when I prophesied the destruction of Faracadar.”

“The Prophets of the Khoum have never been wrong,” Crumpet reminded Buttercup.

“I don’t believe in prophecy,” Sonjay informed the others.

“That’s like saying you don’t believe in water,” Crumpet responded in exasperation. “Just because you don’t believe in it doesn’t mean it’s not for real.”

“Prophecy is a warning, not an absolute fact. Believing in prophecies is like believing in fate. We can change fate. Otherwise, why bother to do anything? We might as well lay on the floor with all our bones gone,” Sonjay pointed out.

“What are you suggesting?” Reggie asked, eyeing his son with a combination of curiosity and pride.

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m saying. We have an advantage over Sissrath. He believes your prophecy that the land is headed to destruction. We know we can find a way to change that.”

“Do we know that?” Crumpet asked.

Sonjay fished his amulet out of the inside of his shirt and put it face-up on his chest as a reminder to the others that he was one of the Four. “Trust me. We know it.”

“That’s your mother’s Amulet of Heartfire,” Reggie noted softly.

“It’s mine now,” Sonjay said.

Bayard paused from his raisins and announced, “Berries.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, eat the raisins and be grateful,” Sonjay warned the persnickety parrot, without taking his eyes off his father.

Changing the Prophecy Chapter Six Episode 2

 

Chapter 6 Wolf Circle -- Episode 2

Guhblorin hung his head shamefully, his ears drooping, and he began to sniffle dejectedly. Elena went straight to him and put her arm around him and pulled him close to her side. “He’s our friend. He’s not dangerous at all. Don’t be mean to him.”

Goldenrod’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he turned to Denzel and Maia and insisted, “Explain this, right now.”

“It’s exactly what Elena said. He’s our friend. He’s a new kind of geebaching who doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” Maia told him. “He’s trying to be good and helpful, and not funny. He’s trying to stay serious. It’s hard work for him so we help him. If he starts to be funny, we remind him that he has vowed to remain serious and he stops himself. I hope you will accept him as an ally.”

Goldenrod frowned. Guhblorin bravely stepped forward and bowed his head in formal greeting to Goldenrod, who reluctantly bowed his head in return. “If I do something funny, just pull my ear to remind me to stop,” Guhblorin said.

“I will do exactly that,” Goldenrod promised, sternly.

Princess Honeydew, who had a reputation for loving animals and keeping many pets of all varieties, took Guhblorin’s hands in hers and asked him with gentle curiosity, “What do geebachings eat? You must be hungry after your travels.”

“I’ll have a bowl of underpants soup, please,” Guhblorin said. But the minute the words fell from his lips, he clapped his hand over his mouth contritely and muttered, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m very nervous. So sorry.” Unfortunately, the damage had already been done and quite a few of the children in earshot started laughing. Their parents pulled them away and quickly disappeared inside their houses.

Honeydew smiled kindly at Guhblorin. “It’s OK. Just try harder to be careful. Let’s go inside and see if we can find something more appropriate for your dinner.” She motioned to the others and all of them followed her and Goldenrod through the center of the circle and into a communal dining room.

“Is High Chief Hyacinth at Big House City?” Maia asked Honeydew.

“Yes, and my mother too. She brought me here but she went back to Big House City right before the siege started. I’m so worried about them,” Honeydew replied. “At the beginning, about six weeks ago, they had plenty of food and water. They have water wells inside the city, but their food supply won’t last forever. I don’t know how soon it will run out. Fortunately Cardamom is with them, and he has the Staff of Shakabaz. Perhaps he will figure out how to use the Staff to lift the siege and if not I hope they can remain securely within the gates and find food and water, at least until the siege ends. Meanwhile, the masters here at the Wolf Circle have begun my education in enchantment.”

“Whoa. Can you do enchantment now?” Denzel asked with a note of envy in his voice.

“A little,” Honeydew answered.

“Show us something,” Denzel requested eagerly.

Honeydew glanced at her uncle and Goldenrod smiled indulgently. “Do the dancing,” he suggested, with a glint in his eye. Honeydew laughed. “Do Denzel,” Goldenrod added.

Denzel looked uncertainly from Goldenrod to Honeydew, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Honeydew raised her hand and pointed three fingers at Denzel. She squinted in concentration and then said a few words of enchantment. Denzel felt his feet quiver uncontrollably and the quiver ran up the back of his legs, grew stronger, then started up his arms from his fingertips. He began to dance and he couldn’t stop. His body did the Electric Slide with no instructions whatsoever from his brain.

Maia and Elena burst into peals of laughter, which stopped abruptly when Honeydew raised three fingers and aimed them at the girls so that they too began to dance the Slide with no control over their arms and legs. Elena continued to giggle delightedly as she danced, but Maia and Denzel appeared none too pleased.

Unable to restrain himself in the presence of such hilarity, Guhblorin snorted through his nose and then dissolved in the kind of geebaching laughter that becomes so dangerously contagious. Honeydew laughed.

“You! Geebaching!” Goldenrod called sternly, “Cease immediately.” And then Goldenrod himself fell out laughing, because who can resist a laughing geebaching?

“It’s not his fault,” Elena pointed out between spasms of laughter. “You did it. If you stop, then he’ll stop.” Guhblorin covered his eyes with his flappy ears so he couldn’t see the silly spectacle. Goldenrod raised three fingers and released the dancers from Honeydew’s enchantment. Everyone breathed deeply, trying to catch their breath, as Guhblorin stuffed his hands in his mouth to stifle his giggles.

“I guess I did not choose the best enchantment to demonstrate while in the presence of a recovering geebaching,” Goldenrod admitted sheepishly. “My bad.”

“That could come in real handy,” Denzel noted as he filed away Honeydew’s power for possible later use if needed.

Guhblorin repeated several times, “I’m OK, I’m OK, I’m OK,” as he attempted to calm himself down.

Goldenrod patted Guhblorin on the back. “Sorry, little fella, I should have known better. I see you are sincerely making an effort.”

“Yes. An effort. Sincerely,” Guhblorin affirmed.

“Well, let’s get all of you something to eat and find you some comfy beds for the night,” Goldenrod said as he steered the travelers to a long wooden table and motioned for them to take seats.

“I vote we go to Big House City to try to lift the siege,” Denzel told Goldenrod. “I could use some enchanters to help me, and maybe some wolves,” he added hopefully.

“I’m inclined to take a more cautious approach,” Goldenrod replied. “I would prefer to learn more about the situation at Big House City before putting lives at risk.”

Denzel took Goldenrod’s rebuff in stride and revised his plans. “Then how about this, how about if Maia and I go to Big House City to find out more for you?”

“No way you go without me,” Honeydew asserted firmly. “My parents are trapped there.”

“I’m going wherever you go,” Elena said.

“Of course you’ll come with us,” Maia reassured Elena.

“Me too,” Guhblorin screeched as he leapt into Elena’s lap and wrapped his skinny arms around her neck.

“Absolutely,” Elena told Guhblorin as she attempted to disengage his fingers from their interlaced grip. “Guhblorin has to come also. He’s mí amigo.”

“Amigo,” Guhblorin repeated eagerly. He clearly liked the sound of the Spanish word for “friend” and he said it several times without completely comprehending what it meant.

“That’s settled then,” Honeydew informed her uncle. “We have a team assembled and we’ll scout out the situation.”

Denzel felt less than enthusiastic about going into a potentially dangerous situation with three girls and a geebaching, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. On the positive side, he knew that Honeydew and Maia were resourceful, sensible, and brave. He said to Goldenrod, “We need a way to communicate with you from Big House City, to let you know what we find. Do you have any ideas about that?”

“I have my cell phone and it’s fully charged,” Elena piped up.

Denzel busted out laughing. “Terrific. Now all we need is a cell phone tower.” He couldn’t wait to tell Sonjay about Elena and her cell phone.

Elena threw Denzel a hurt look while Guhblorin patted her empathetically on the shoulder.

“I’ll give you a travel crystal,” Goldenrod offered. “With any luck, it will allow you to communicate with me.” Denzel nodded in agreement with Goldenrod. He had used a travel crystal successfully the previous year and knew how tricky a travel crystal could get. It depended on the nature of available sunlight, but it could work. “Just so you know, the Dome seems to be down,” Goldenrod added.

“What? The Dome? That’s not good.” Denzel absorbed that information and continued, “I figure it will take us three or four days to get to Big House City.” He counted off the travel days on his fingers as he explained his calculation to Goldenrod. “That would include two or three days to hike over the Amber Mountains and one day to ride from the mountains to Big House City. We could make good time if we don’t run into any Special Forces. We need tigers,” Denzel noted.

“I can arrange for tigers,” Goldenrod told him.

Guhblorin raised a hand in the air, as if hoping for a teacher to call on him in class. “Excuse me,” he squeaked in a tiny voice.

“Now what?” Denzel demanded. Guhblorin was getting on his nerves.

“I know a shortcut through the Amber Mountains that will cut the travel time in half,” Guhblorin offered.

Denzel rolled his eyes. “It’s not safe inside the Amber Mountains and you know why.”

“We don’t want to risk capture by your brothers and sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles and the rest of your kind who have not sworn off homicide like you have,” Maia reminded Guhblorin patiently as she threw Denzel a reproachful look.

“I know a quick shortcut passage close to the surface, and I’m sure no geebachings will go in there. It has a weird smell in it. They don’t like it,” Guhblorin offered.

“What’s the smell?” Elena asked suspiciously.

“Kind of like fish,” Guhblorin said. “And seaweed.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Elena suggested hopefully.

“Very old fish. Very slimy seaweed. And also a bit like a wet sheep wearing sweaty gym socks,” Guhblorin added.

Elena giggled. Guhblorin clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Is the passage big enough for tigers to fit through it?” Denzel asked.

Guhblorin saluted and said, “Yes, sir.” Denzel heard a slight tickle of sarcasm in Guhblorin’s use of the word “sir,” but he let it pass.

“That’s settled then,” Denzel concluded with an approving nod in Guhblorin’s direction. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning and we’ll use the smelly passage.”

Changing the Prophecy Chapter Six Episode 1

 

Chapter 6 Wolf Circle -- Episode 1

With Maia playing her timber flute and Denzel jamming along on Maia’s travel drum, they walked at a fast pace in rhythm to the music. Denzel glanced upward frequently at the phosphorescent markings on the roof of the tunnel to make sure they continued heading in the right direction. After a few minutes of walking, Elena timidly began to hum along to Maia’s tune and before long she had started singing a jazzy, wordless scat. The beauty of Elena’s voice surprised Denzel. He didn’t know anything much about Maia’s little friend beside the fact that she had an annoying crush on him.

After the travelers had walked in the caves for an hour, their music became inspired. They surrendered to its flow and let it sweep them along. As they lost themselves in the beat, the tune that unfolded spontaneously became like a living creature of its own.

The trio could not risk pausing for fear that the fatally jolly geebachings would discover them if they fell silent. The year before, the geebachings captured Denzel and Maia along with their fellow travelers and had nearly caused them to laugh themselves to death. To save them, Maia played an extraordinarily haunting tune on a water organ (an instrument made of bowls filled with water) and the music turned the geebachings into bright orange birds that flew out of the caves and disappeared in the forest beyond. Turning into a bird didn’t seem like a bad fate for a geebaching, especially considering how unrepentant they were about murdering people. Their morbid sense of humor was horrifying. The strange creatures looked like large orange monkeys and had a ruthless obsession with making people laugh. They were intolerably funny and their infectious laughter had the power to go viral among vulnerable humans within seconds. They lived deep in the mountains and scouted the tunnels for prey, often venturing to the surface in search of victims.

After more than two hours of making music and walking, Denzel, Maia, and Elena emerged from a tunnel opening into the late afternoon light of a glorious golden-green day in a forest in the Amber Mountains. Elena was exhausted from the walk, but she didn’t want to admit it to the others. She was glad she hadn’t confessed to being worn out when Maia said, “That was fast. Last time it took so much longer.”

“We must have come through a narrower part of the mountains this time,” Denzel suggested. “Now we have to find the Wolf Circle.” Denzel’s forehead puckered with concentration. He did not know for sure which way to go. Jasper would have had his bearings in an instant and Denzel wished again that his friend was with them. “Which direction do you think…?” The sound of snuffling emerging from a nearby bush stopped him abruptly in mid-sentence. He whirled around, prepared to defend himself and the girls. “Who’s there? Show yourself,” he demanded, throwing his backpack to the ground in preparation for a fight.

A small, stunted, rusty-orange geebaching, no more than three feet tall, crept out from under the bush. His over-sized floppy ears hung dejectedly onto his shoulders. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hairy arm.

“Ewww,” Elena exclaimed. “Use a Kleenex.”

He wiped his nose with his other hairy arm and mumbled, “Wassa Kleenex?”

Elena produced a Kleenex from her pocket and handed it to the geebaching, who promptly ate it. Elena giggled. The geebaching smiled faintly.

“Don’t start,” Denzel warned the geebaching, pointing his finger at him threateningly. “Don’t even think about it. If you do or say anything the least bit funny I’ll knock you out.”

Elena patted the bedraggled creature on the head and turned a reproachful face to Denzel. “Can’t you see he’s sad and alone. Don’t yell at him.” Behind her, the geebaching held up two fingers in back of her head like horns, the way people sometimes do to be silly in a photograph. The corners of the geebaching’s mouth twitched.

“Elena, come away from that thing. You have no idea,” Maia warned. She lifted the flute to show the geebaching. “If you so much as giggle, I’ll play the flute, so help me.”

“Won’t work on me,” the geebaching informed her glumly. “I’m a dud.” He commenced to sniffle again.

“Explain,” Denzel demanded.

“I’m tone deaf. Can’t hear music. It sounds like rattle and jammer to me. Been that way all my life. That’s why I have no friends. That and the fact that I don’t want to cause any harm. No laugh-to-death stuff. That’s why I ran away. I’m a freak of nature.”

“What is your name?” Elena asked kindly.

“Guhblorin. Remember it. Remember me as the first geebaching to give up the laugh-to-death. I can vouch it’s a lonely choice.”

“So you aren’t funny?” Maia asked curiously.

“Oh, I’m funny,” Guhblorin boasted, puffing out his chest. “I’m funnier than a cat with the hiccups. I’m the funniest. But I have vowed not to use it on humans. I’m careful. I contain it. Most of the time I do, anyway. I try.” He screwed his face up, “I try really, really, really hard.”

“So let me get this straight; you want me to believe that you’re a geebaching that has decided not to make people laugh because you get that it’s wrong to do that?” Denzel couldn’t quite swallow Guhblorin’s story. The geebaching nodded solemnly.

“You’re not a freak of nature,” Maia assured him, as she lowered her timber flute, “you’re a mutation, an evolutionary improvement. I’m pleased to meet you.” She held her hand out to the geebaching, who took it, and they shook.

“Don’t get too excited,” Guhblorin warned. “I’m a work in progress. If I’m naughty and make a funny, pull on my ear and I’ll serious-up.”

Denzel peered at the geebaching skeptically as he asked, “Do you happen to know the way to the Wolf Circle from here?”

“You betcha,” Guhblorin replied brightly. “Been trying to work up the courage to go there. If I take you there, will you protect me long enough for me to explain myself to the Wolf Circle people so they don’t kill me?”

“Absolutely,” Elena promised.

“Happy, happy, happy,” Guhblorin exclaimed as he hugged himself and shivered with delight. He planted one foot on the ground and started flapping his arms wildly while he spun in a circle around the unmoving foot. He looked like a demented bird. Elena started to laugh. Maia knew better. She stepped forward and grabbed Guhblorin’s ear and yanked.

“Sorry, sorry,” Guhblorin said sheepishly. “We go this way.” He hung his head remorsefully and led the group onto a path into the woods.

Maia and Denzel fell in behind Guhblorin as they exchanged a look of concern, both of them worried about hooking up with a geebaching. Elena bent and picked a large white flower and put it in her hair.

“I wish I knew where Sonjay and Doshmisi landed,” Denzel said quietly to Maia.

“I hope they’re together,” she replied.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Denzel said. “What do you think we should do when we arrive at the Wolf Circle?”

“Princess Honeydew is probably there and she’ll have some ideas. Hopefully Goldenrod will help us figure things out too,” Maia suggested. They had lagged behind the others and they noticed that Guhblorin was talking to Elena, who giggled.

“We better catch up,” Denzel noted. “Your little friend has no clue how dangerous he is so she has no reason not to tempt him to break his vow of seriousness.”

They had not walked for long when they came to a clearing on the edge of the Wolf Circle. The sun had begun to dip behind the trees for the evening and Maia gazed up at it with affection. It was an old sun and not as intensely bright as the sun at Manzanita Ranch. It was orange and yellow with a greenish tint around the edges. Maia knew from experience that no moon would appear to brighten the night sky, only the many very bright stars in all different colors.

Four huge white wolves trotted into the clearing and stood at attention, watching the small group of travelers. Guhblorin jumped up onto Denzel’s shoulders where he wrapped his arms around Denzel’s head, covering Denzel’s eyes. At the same moment Elena, quivering in terror, ducked behind Denzel and grabbed his upper arms with her hands in a viselike grip that he couldn’t shake. “C’mon, man,” Denzel complained in exasperation.

Maia held her hands out to the enormous wolves so they could identify her scent. “We’re friends. Remember us from last year?” she said gently. After the wolves had sniffed her hands, she scratched them each under the chin and behind the ears. They licked her fingers and then went to sniff the others. When Maia glanced back and saw Guhblorin and Elena wrapped around her brother, she burst out laughing.

“Oh shut up!” Denzel shouted at Maia, as he extricated one of the geebaching’s fingers from his mouth. “Let go,” he demanded.

The wolves trotted back to Maia, who assured Guhblorin and Elena, “They won’t hurt you. They live here. Why do you think they call it the Wolf Circle?”

Elena let go of Denzel, who swatted at Guhblorin and twisted back and forth trying to dislodge the terrified geebaching. Maia extricated Guhblorin from Denzel’s shoulders and put him on the ground where he rolled himself up into a furry ball. The wolves nudged the rolled-up geebaching between them like a soccer ball, taking care not to injure him with their teeth or claws.

“Take it easy with him,” Maia called after the wolves, as they proceeded to roll Guhblorin down a path that led into the heart of the circle. Denzel, Maia, and Elena followed close behind.

“Do any people live here, or just wolves?” Elena asked Maia quietly.

“People and wolves live here together,” Maia replied.

As they entered the circle, one of the wolves pointed his nose at the sky and howled. Immediately, people poked their heads out of houses and emerged to investigate. In the jumble of onlookers, Maia saw Princess Honeydew and shouted to her joyfully. The crowd parted for Honeydew to make her way to Maia and the cousins hugged each other excitedly. Then, to Denzel’s embarrassment, Honeydew threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug as well. He hugged her back tentatively, while noticing the look of jealousy that crossed Elena’s face out of the corner of his eye. When she released him, Honeydew demanded, “Where are Doshmisi and Sonjay?”

“We don’t know,” Maia answered regretfully. “We think they arrived in Faracadar when we did, but we got separated during the passage, so we don’t know where they are.” Elena looked down at her feet self-consciously because she felt partly responsible for the fact that Doshmisi and Sonjay had not arrived in the same place as the rest of them. But Maia would not allow her friend to feel bad about it. It may not have had anything to do with her. They didn’t know one way or another. She put her arm around Elena’s shoulders and made introductions. “This is my best friend, Elena, who came with us from the Farland. Elena, this is my cousin, the daughter of High Chief Hyacinth and Chieftess Saffron, heir to the throne of Faracadar, the Princess Honeydew.”

“Why so formal?” Honeydew complained humbly.

“Well, that’s your title, isn’t it?” Maia pointed out.

“Your cousin?” Elena asked with surprise (and a bit of relief as she thought about the hug Honeydew had given to Denzel).

“Our mother came from this land,” Denzel explained simply. “We’re royalty here. Like our cousin.”

Just then Honeydew’s uncle, Goldenrod, appeared and interrupted the conversation so that he, too, could give everyone a hug and exclaim again about their arrival and ask about Doshmisi and Sonjay, and the news was repeated and introductions made again. In the excitement of the reunion, everyone forgot about Guhblorin, who had cautiously uncurled himself from the ball of fur he had become to protect himself from the wolves. A small child noticed Guhblorin and pointed at the geebaching while shouting, “What’s that?”

The people of the Wolf Circle, who remained crowded around the visitors, shifted their focus from Denzel, Maia, and Elena to the geebaching. They stepped back and away from Guhblorin, staring, while Goldenrod answered the child in a deep guttural voice that sounded like a growl. “That is a mountain geebaching. One of the most dangerous and deadly of creatures,” Goldenrod informed.

Changing the Prophecy Chapter 5 Episode 2

 Chapter 5 At the Dome -- Episode 2

“Why do you suppose Sissrath doesn’t want people communicating?” Jasper wondered aloud.

Doshmisi answered, “Think about it. Last year we mobilized all the people to rise up against him. If we can’t connect with people then we can’t do that again.”

“We should have killed him when we had the chance,” Jasper blurted.

“But the whales said violence would only lead to more violence and I agree with them. We found a way to defeat Sissrath once and we’ll find a way to do it again,” Doshmisi asserted.

Jasper shrugged. “We didn’t completely defeat him, did we? He’s back to his old scheming ways already.”

Just then Mrs. Jelly returned with dinner plates heaped with spinach-and-mushroom lasagna that smelled heavenly. Except for the Mountain People, everyone in Faracadar was vegetarian. Doshmisi used to eat meat, but she had given it up after her visit to Faracadar the previous summer, and she didn’t miss it. The people in Faracadar cooked delicious vegetarian food and Mrs. Jelly was no exception. The lasagna was heavenly.

After dinner, Jasper suggested to Doshmisi, “Maybe you should use some of that color change powdery stuff to make yourself green; you know, so that you aren’t so obvious.” The year before, Grandmomma Clover had given the Four a powder that would put a color in them like the regular people of Faracadar. The Four were royalty, born from the royal line through their mother and her ancestors, and as such their skin appeared plain brown. The powder had given them each a bright aura of color so they resembled the ordinary people in Faracadar:  Sonjay yellow (like the Mountain People), Maia blue (like the Coast People), Denzel red (like the People Beyond the Lake), and Doshmisi green (like the Island People).

“I wish I could,” Doshmisi replied mournfully, “but Maia has the powder in her backpack.”

“While you’re here,” Mrs. Jelly said to Doshmisi, “would you please take a look at my cousin Jewel? She twisted her ankle yesterday morning.”

The previous year, Doshmisi had used the herbal book to help her heal many people. When she put the herbal on a person’s chest, it opened to a page with instructions about a remedy for the sickness from which the person suffered. The herbal usually gave a recipe for a medicinal cure, but since it was an enchanted object it often acted in unpredictable ways. Doshmisi had developed the skill of figuring out how to use the herbal to heal people. She agreed to take a look at Jewel’s ankle without hesitation.

Leaving Jasper with Jelly and Jack, Doshmisi followed Mrs. Jelly upstairs to a room in the inn where Jewel sat propped up in bed, knitting, with her swollen foot high on a cushion. A vase of forget-me-nots stood on the night stand alongside a blue pitcher of water and a glass. A glow-bug lantern cast an amber light into the room.

“Jewel,” Mrs. Jelly said, “we’re in luck. Guess who showed up? Doshmisi. And she has the herbal and she has come to take a look at your ankle.”

During the year while at Manzanita Ranch, Doshmisi had spent every spare moment studying about medicine, health, and the human body. In fact, she didn’t need to use the herbal to figure out what to tell Jewel about how to treat her injured ankle, but she proceeded to place the book on Jewel’s chest anyway. The herbal opened to a page and Doshmisi leaned over to read the words. The page looked completely different from anything she had ever seen in the herbal before. She stared at the page in astonishment. Instead of providing instructions for a recipe or a quick diagnosis of the problem, the herbal had opened to a dense paragraph that began with the words, Insects remain the most enduring species because of their adaptability. If people could change to meet new circumstances, they would have more success at survival.

“Hold on,” Doshmisi told Jewel, “the herbal is doing something peculiar and I have to read this page.”

“Does it say something bad about my ankle?” Jewel asked in alarm.

“No,” Doshmisi reassured her. “Strangely, it has nothing to say about your ankle. Let me read this right quick.” Jewel and Mrs. Jelly exchanged an anxious glance and fell silent as Doshmisi began to read down the page. Before she could read more than the first few sentences, the herbal slammed shut of its own accord and she could not reopen it. She did not know what to make of this.

“I can’t seem to get the swelling to go down,” Jewel told Doshmisi. “I twisted it pretty bad.”

“You should put ice on it and stay off it,” Doshmisi instructed. “The more you ice it, the faster the swelling will go down and then it will stop hurting. Stay off it and keep it iced and elevated. I’ll write a recipe for arnica cream to rub on it that Mrs. Jelly can make to help it heal faster; and drink four ounces of dark cherry juice every day.”

Jewel thanked Doshmisi for the advice, then Mrs. Jelly and Doshmisi returned to the dining hall. Doshmisi wrote out the recipe for the arnica cream while Mrs. Jelly took an ice pack upstairs to her ailing cousin. Doshmisi kept wondering about the strange behavior of the herbal. She hoped it would not happen when she needed the herbal to act right to help her in a more serious situation.

After Doshmisi wrote the recipe, Jelly showed her and Jasper to their rooms and bid them goodnight. Alone in her room, Doshmisi attempted to open the herbal again, but it would not cooperate. She wondered what it had tried to tell her with that story about how insects were more adaptable than people. Before the book had slammed shut, she remembered reading something about people letting go of outmoded ways of operating, and that people needed to engage in innovative thinking. She decided that for the time being she would keep her discovery about the herbal to herself. Maybe the next time she tried to use it to heal someone, it would act the way it normally did. Or maybe it had morphed into a totally different book altogether, which scared her.

Early the next morning, Doshmisi, Jasper, and Jack took their leave of Mr. and Mrs. Jelly. They wanted to make it to the Passage Circle at the Coast Settlement before nightfall. Jasper could tell that Doshmisi was distracted as they rode through the Marini Hills, fragrant with the scent of flower blossoms, but he didn’t bother her. He figured she needed to work something out in her head; after all, she was one of the Four. He took care not to interrupt her thoughts. Doshmisi continued to try to make sense out of the weird story fragment the herbal had offered up to her the previous day.

By late in the afternoon, Jasper, Doshmisi, and Jack emerged from the Marini Hills and started the descent toward the Passage Circle that formed a link between the Coast Settlement, near the beach, and the Island Settlement, that spread out across the ocean in a string of islands. Weary of travel, and no closer to guessing the meaning of the words she had read in the herbal, Doshmisi felt relieved to reach the end of the day’s journey. Perhaps tomorrow, she thought, I’ll have a glimmer of insight about the herbal.

Changing the Prophecy Chapter 5 Episode 1

Chapter 5 At the Dome -- Episode 1

On her way back to the Garden, Doshmisi pondered the images sent to her by the trees. They urged her to go see Clover, and she would do that. But first she wanted to find out more about Mole and the situation on the North Coast. She believed that if she went to the North Coast, then she would learn something important about the blue-green algae and the whales. She would prefer to solve the mystery about the threat to the algae before she visited Clover so that she could share that information with Clover and seek her grandmother’s advice.

Upon her return to the potting shed at the Garden, she found that the intuit Jack had joined Jasper and Jade. Although only six years old, Jack had the ability to see into the future and to witness events taking place far away from him. Typical of people who lived at the Dome Circle, he had brown skin with a deep purple glow. He also had thick, purple curls. He hovered over the ground, like all intuits, whose intense energy caused them to lift up off their feet. Jack floated to Doshmisi at eye level and happily flung his little arms around her neck shouting, “hi, hi, hi.”

“What’d the trees say?” Jasper asked.

Jack clung delightedly to Doshmisi’s neck and she shifted him to one side so she could see Jasper and Jade.

“They’re sad,” Doshmisi began, and then hesitated. Jack put his hand on her head and closed his eyes. “They want me to go to see Grandmomma Clover on Whale Island.”

Jack’s eyes sprang open, he pushed himself off Doshmisi, and told Jasper, “Sick ocean. Poison.”

“Yes, Jack,” Doshmisi confirmed. “The trees showed me that something will threaten or has already threatened the blue-green algae and this has deeply disturbed the whales. I’m not sure if I saw the present or the future, but whenever it takes place, it’s not good.”

“Poison?” Jade asked. “The algae poisoned?”

“Poison,” Jack repeated.

“Grandmomma Clover once explained to me that the algae cleans the air in Faracadar, and that without it, the air will thin out and become too dirty to support life,” Doshmisi said.

Jack grabbed his neck, and pretended to choke himself. He fell over sideways, gagging for air.

“Leave it, Jack,” Jasper said, anxiously. “We can do without the theatrics.”

Jack floated benignly in the air with a slightly hurt expression on his face.

“Correct,” Jade confirmed for Doshmisi. “The algae and the whales each have a role in a delicate ecosystem that supports the quality of the air for us air-breathing creatures.”

“And the quality of the water for the sea creatures too, I suppose,” Doshmisi added.

“Of course,” Jade said.

“Then I guess we should head for the Islands to check in with Clover,” Jasper said, eager to strike out on the open road and do the guiding work for which he was trained.

“No, not yet,” Doshmisi disagreed, as she pursed her lips in thought.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that Grandmomma will have to wait. I intend to go see her, just as the trees wish; but first I want to find out more about what’s going on at the North Coast. I want to look for Mole and see if he can shed any light on Sissrath’s game plan.”

“Do you think it wise to contradict the trees?” Jade asked, worriedly.

“The trees showed me several things. They showed me Clover and they showed me that the algae could potentially be in danger and that the threat to the algae has the whales distraught. I want to find out as much as I can about what we’re up against before I talk to Grandmomma so I can ask for her opinion about all of it. What do you think, Jack?” Doshmisi asked the intuit.

“Coast.” Jack nodded emphatically.

“North Coast it is then,” Jasper said. He asked Jade if she would look after Cocoa until Granite returned. When they took their leave of Jade, she gave them fresh fruit and cheese for their journey. Jasper seated Jack in front of him on his tiger and the travelers headed in the direction of the ocean. Doshmisi enjoyed riding through the familiar landscape, bathed in the light from the greenish sun. She had missed this land. They rode for the rest of that day, stopping only when the shadows grew long and darkness began to descend.

Jasper set up two small tents in a birch forest that night. “If we ride hard tomorrow, we can reach Akinowe Lake and the Solferino Settlement before nightfall,” Jasper told the others before they went to bed. The Solferino Settlement housed the Crystal Communication Dome, a hub for messages traveling throughout Faracadar and therefore its communication center. Perhaps they would learn something valuable about Sissrath’s activities at the Dome.

The travelers rose at dawn for a tasty breakfast of bread, cheese, and grapes. By midday they arrived atop the hills that ringed Akinowe Lake. The many-colored birds that lived near the lake swooped in brilliant streaks across the sky between the hills and the water, which sparkled invitingly in the distance. Jasper led them on the path down to the lake and around its edge. When the blue-tinged fingers of evening brushed the treetops, they arrived on the outskirts of the Dome Circle. They looked forward to staying at the Tollhouse run by Jelly and Mrs. Jelly, whom they had befriended the year before. Mrs. Jelly made terrific pancakes. As they approached the circle, Jack warned them, “danger, danger, danger;” so they remained alert and cautious.

It soon became apparent that it did not require the clairvoyance of an intuit to recognize that something at the Dome had gone amiss. They did not see any people and the footsteps of their tigers sounded loud in the silent road, empty of the cheerful voices of children calling to one another as they played in the yards and pathways of the circle. Jasper pulled his tiger up short and swung off of the large, gentle beast, leaving Jack on the Tiger’s back by himself. He motioned to Doshmisi and she too dismounted. They led the tigers into the eerily quiet circle and made their way to the Tollhouse. Jasper knocked on the heavy wooden door. Two eyes peered out of a slit in the door. The slit slammed shut. Then a jolly balding man with inky purple-black skin and a lavender-colored beard opened the door and hurried them inside, tigers and all, swiftly slamming the door shut behind them. Once he had them safely inside, Jelly (for that is who the man was) crushed each of them in turn in an enormous bear hug as he called over his shoulder, “Mrs. Jelly, come see what the tigers dragged in!”

The travelers stood in the middle of a large dining hall with a high, wood-beamed ceiling. Mrs. Jelly emerged from the kitchen, wiping her work-worn hands on her apron, and exclaiming, “Marvelous to see you, so marvelous. And just in the nick of time. Have you eaten dinner? No, of course not. Let me fix each of you a plate. Say, what became of the rest of you?” She meant Doshmisi’s siblings, the rest of the Four.

“We got separated during the passage,” Doshmisi replied. “I don’t know where the others wound up or if they even made it through.” Her words caught in her throat and reminded Doshmisi of how worried she was about what had happened to the others. She didn’t want to dwell on it because it scared her. She had to focus on the task in front of her.

“It was the first time without Amethyst,” Jasper added.

“Yes, well I’m sure Crystal did her best,” Mrs. Jelly said sympathetically.

“She had Ruby with her. Ruby will replace Amethyst as the Gatekeeper soon, but it seems they need more practice,” Doshmisi explained. She didn’t want to sound too critical of Crystal and Ruby. She knew that they had tried their hardest and had not intended to separate the Four during the passage.

“I’ll get you some dinner while Mr. Jelly tells you about our visitors here at the Dome Circle. Not a pretty story,” Mrs. Jelly said as she shook her head ruefully and retreated to her kitchen.

Jelly called a boy over to him and asked him to take the tigers outside, and to feed them and bed them down. Then he sat at one of the heavy wooden tables with Doshmisi and Jasper. Jack climbed happily into his Uncle Jelly’s lap. “Dome down. Dome off,” Jack said sadly, as he patted his uncle’s beard.

“Yes indeed,” Jelly confirmed.

“What do you mean?” Jasper asked.

“What Jack said. The Dome is not working,” Jelly informed them. People communicated across long distances throughout the land using crystal energy generated from the Crystal Communication Dome. If the Dome had stopped working, then the people could only communicate from one place to another by messenger.

“What happened?” Doshmisi asked. “And why is the circle deserted? Where did everyone go?”

“They’re staying out of sight for their safety,” Jelly said. “Sissrath’s Special Forces arrived last week with guns, which are a kind of tool that shoots a small piece of metal.”

“A bullet,” Doshmisi said.

“A bullet?” Jasper asked.

“The small piece of metal shot from the gun is called a bullet. They have them in the Farland, but I have never seen them here. I wonder who introduced them into Faracadar. Perhaps Sissrath invented them. I’m sorry to hear that guns have come to Faracadar,” Doshmisi said regretfully.

“The Special Forces used these guns to kill the security guards at the Dome,” Jelly continued to recount recent events. “Then they sent the Dome workers home and they covered the central crystal with a large cloth. No communications have come in or gone out since. Fearing for their lives, the people of the circle have stayed inside their houses, only going out for essentials. It’s like a siege.”

Changing the Prophecy Chapter 4 Episode 1

Chapter 4 Arrival Part Three -- Episode 1

With a whoosh and a rush of yellow smoke, Sonjay landed on the cobblestone ground of the courtyard at the Final Fortress. “What in the heck?” he said softly to Bayard, who still perched on his shoulder, as he quickly ducked behind a statue that hid him from the view of anyone entering or leaving by the main gate. “You have to keep quiet, Bayard,” he instructed. “Quiet. Understand?” Sonjay put a finger to his lips to emphasize his point. Bayard took to the air and flew up over the stone wall and out of the courtyard, most likely to forage for food. Sonjay felt sad to see him go, but he was better off without the bird for the moment. Bayard could make quite a racket and Sonjay needed to stay hidden.

Sonjay waited in the silent courtyard until nightfall. He hoped that his sisters or brother would turn up. That didn’t happen. He was on his own. He wondered if the previous Four (Momma, Aunt Alice, and his uncles) had ever been separated during the passage. Although he worried about the others, and wondered if they had even made the passage at all, he didn’t think he had arrived at the Final Fortress by accident or because Crystal and Ruby lacked experience. He thought he had arrived there for a reason and he thought the reason had to do with finding his father.

Daddy had disappeared when Sonjay was a baby, and the Four had given up hope of ever seeing him again, even though Momma used to say that Daddy would return to them as soon as he could. The previous summer, when Sissrath held Sonjay and the others captive in the dungeon at the Final Fortress, Sonjay thought he had heard his father speaking their names. Now seemed like as good a time as any to find out if Daddy was actually here. Sonjay had the crescent moon mark of the enchanter on his wrist, just like Princess Honeydew. He wished he knew how to cast enchantments, but he had not yet come of age and therefore had not studied enchantment yet at the Wolf Circle. If he could have cast enchantments, he would have made himself invisible.

Under cover of darkness, Sonjay slipped inside the heavy door that led to the dungeons. The fortress remained eerily quiet. He stepped softly down the stone stairs, wishing he had one of the flashlights in Denzel’s backpack. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found himself in a corridor dimly lit by wall sconces. Still no one appeared. Hugging the damp, cold, stone wall, he made his way cautiously down the corridor toward the cell where Sissrath had imprisoned him on his previous stay at the Final Fortress.

Suddenly, a hand reached out of the wall and clapped itself over Sonjay’s mouth, then hauled him into a tiny room. Sonjay struggled to free himself from the grip of that hand. “Don’t make a sound,” a voice whispered in his ear. The hand released him as it spun him around and he stared into the astonished face of Buttercup, the wife of Crumpet. Crumpet was the older brother of the great enchanter Cardamom. Crumpet was not the most proficient enchanter. His enchantments seemed to go wrong more often than they went right, but he was a good guy. Buttercup was much better at casting enchantments than her husband. She was a large woman and her dark-brown skin had the distinctive yellow glow of the Mountain People. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “I almost killed you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sonjay replied. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m rescuing Crumpet,” she declared.

“Well, I’m rescuing my father,” Sonjay countered. “Where is everyone? Are there any guards down here?” As Sonjay’s eyes adjusted to the dim room, he discovered that he and Buttercup, as well as several other Mountain People from Buttercup’s home in the Amber Mountains, had crammed themselves inside a tiny closet filled with brooms, mops, buckets, scrub brushes, and cleaning supplies. “Are we in a mop closet?”

“You betcha,” Buttercup answered. “We put an enchantment on the guards to make them sleep. Well, most of ‘em. It’s complicated. The Special Forces are asleep, but not the Corportons.”

“Corportons?”

“Aliens. I told you, it’s complicated. Let’s free Crumpet, then we’ll try to find your father, and then we’ll get out of here. After we get out, I’ll bring you up to speed about the aliens.”

“I’m down with that. Lead the way,” Sonjay said, as he gestured toward the door of the mop closet.

Buttercup picked up a huge super-soaker squirt gun and handed it to Sonjay. “If you see someone in a snow-white jumpsuit, spray ‘em. Don’t ask questions.” She motioned to the others and stepped toward the door.

“Yuk. It smells like skunk,” Sonjay sniffed the super-soaker.

“You betcha,” Buttercup confirmed.

“What’d you put in this thing?”

“Skunk juice, they hate it.”

“They?”

Buttercup shushed him. “Let’s roll.”

Sonjay and the others followed Buttercup out of the mop closet and down the corridor. Buttercup held a device in one hand that looked like a cell phone but Sonjay knew it wasn’t. There were no phones at all in Faracadar. Buttercup pointed the device forward. When it started beeping, she turned it off and put her hands on the cell door nearest to her. “He’s in here, stand back,” she instructed. Sonjay and the others moved away. Buttercup pointed her fingers at the door, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then spoke words of enchantment under her breath. The door to the cell slowly opened.

“You have to teach me how to do that,” Sonjay told her admiringly.

“All in good time.” She entered and Sonjay followed close behind. Inside the cell, Sonjay saw a cot with a blanket on it. There was a small window high up on the outside-facing wall. A table had been pushed against that wall and there was a chair on top of the table. The cell was empty.

Buttercup looked up at the chair on the table. She reached for Sonjay’s skunk juice super-soaker, which he handed to her gratefully (it smelled awful), as she commanded him, “Climb up there and get that pastry off the chair. Be careful. Don’t let it crumble.”

Sonjay clambered onto the table and sure enough, he found a fat cinnamon roll on the chair. It looked tasty. He climbed back down with it resting flat on his palm. “Yum,” he said to Buttercup. “I’m starved.” As he started to open his mouth to take a bite, Buttercup snatched the cinnamon roll out of his hand and smacked him upside the head. The other Mountain People laughed.

“What’s up with you?” Sonjay demanded as he rubbed his face where she had slapped him.

“Shut up!” Buttercup yelped. She tenderly placed the pastry on the cot and said a few words of enchantment to it. The pastry glowed chartreuse, then yellow, and then, with a pop, it transformed into a familiar figure.

“Crumpet!” Sonjay exclaimed. “I almost took a bite out of you.”

“What did I turn into this time?” Crumpet asked querulously.

“A cinnamon roll,” Buttercup informed him.

“With icing and raisins. You looked delicious,” Sonjay added, as he put his arms around Crumpet and gave him a hug. He had missed the incompetent enchanter; incompetent because whenever he became too excited, flustered, or angry while conducting an enchantment he turned himself into some object (usually something useless) and remained stuck like that until a capable enchanter could be found to change him back.

“The Corportons have Sissrath in their back pocket. It’s disgusting. He took them to the North Coast,” Crumpet began to explain to his wife in an agitated voice as he waved his arms above his head, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

“Not now. First, if you upset yourself then you might turn into a doughnut, and second, we have to help Sonjay find his father and then skedaddle out of here before the guards wake up.”

“You have a father?” Crumpet asked Sonjay incredulously.

“Everyone has a father,” Sonjay reminded him.

“Alive? Here?” Crumpet continued.

“I think so. I need to find out for sure. I haven’t ever seen my dad. But I think he’s down here somewhere. Do you remember last year when Sissrath put us into a cell in this dungeon? The time you had turned yourself into a rock and your brother Cardamom turned you back while we were imprisoned?”

“Of course. There’s nothing wrong with my memory,” Crumpet replied haughtily. He unfolded his long body to its full height as he gave his wife a hug. “Thank you for rescuing me, babycakes,” Crumpet told Buttercup appreciatively. She planted a kiss on his nose. “Where are Doshmisi, Denzel, and Maia?” Crumpet asked Sonjay.

“I don’t know. We got separated during the passage.”

“We have to go. Now,” Buttercup reminded them urgently.

“OK, OK,” Sonjay said as he took the stinky super-soaker out of her hand and headed toward the cell door. “Here’s the deal. I thought I heard my father’s voice when I was in that cell with Crumpet and the others last year. But I don’t know exactly where the voice came from. I just know it was near our cell. Do you think you can find the cell where Sissrath imprisoned us last year?” Sonjay asked Crumpet.

“Of course. I never forget a prison cell,” Crumpet said, his eyes shining brightly. “Everyone imprisoned here is an enemy of Sissrath,” Crumpet pointed out as he turned to Buttercup and suggested, “so why don’t you and the fellas start opening cell doors and have a look to see who’s inside, while I take Sonjay to our former cell to see if we can figure out where his father might be.”

“You got it, babycakes,” Buttercup agreed. “But be quick. The Corportons will discover us any minute.”

Crumpet and Sonjay hurried out of the cell and continued down the corridor. Crumpet turned to the right into a passageway that looked familiar to Sonjay, and then he stopped outside a cell door. “This one.”

Sonjay put his hand on Crumpet’s arm. Crumpet still smelled vaguely like cinnamon and it made Sonjay’s mouth water. “Keep quiet for a minute and let me listen,” Sonjay commanded. Crumpet obeyed as Sonjay cocked his head to the right and listened intently. All he could hear was Buttercup and her team in the distance as they released prisoners from their cells. Last year he had distinctly heard a man repeating over and over again his name and the names of his brother and sisters. Maybe his father had died since the previous year. After all, he had probably been a prisoner in the Final Fortress for ten years or more.

Just then, Bayard appeared. The parrot flew down the passageway and squawked “Daddy-O, Daddy-O.” Sonjay trusted Bayard implicitly so he followed him immediately. Bayard alighted on the floor outside a cell door and repeated “Daddy-O.”

“Can you open it?” Sonjay asked Crumpet. “Without turning into a slice of cake, I mean?”

“Give me a little credit,” Crumpet complained. He said some words and the lock clicked open. With his heart beating loudly in his ears, Sonjay pulled the heavy door back with a creak and a rumble.

A man with long dreadlocks sat at a table and typed on an old-fashioned typewriter. When Sonjay entered, the man looked up from his work with curiosity. Bookshelves loaded with books lined the walls of the cell. A rich red-and-black carpet covered the floor and a warm fire glowed in the fireplace. The bed, piled high with comfy pillows, invited a nap. A glow-bug lantern stood on the table and cast an amber light to the edges of the room. This warm room was the opposite of a cold, damp prison cell. It looked more like a cozy study.

Sonjay had expected to find a grizzled and emaciated man chained to the wall, his eyes rolling around crazily in his head. This man looked well-fed and clean. And he looked exactly, precisely, like Denzel, only grown up. When Sonjay entered the cell with Crumpet, the prisoner pushed his chair back and rose to his feet with a questioning expression.

“I am Sonjay, the youngest son of Debbie,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Are you my father?”

The man’s face collapsed with emotion as tears ran down his cheeks. He nodded his head and then, in a voice that cracked, he said, “Yes. Yes. I am Reggie; Reginald Goodacre. I am your father.”

Sonjay was stunned. He had set out to find his father and had expected to find him, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment when he would actually stand face-to-face with his father. Rooted to the spot, his eyes welled up with tears. Reggie walked over to Sonjay and wrapped him in his arms. They held onto each other tightly and cried, oblivious to everything and everyone around them. “Such a beautiful, strong boy. My son. I have wished to see you every minute of every day these ten long years,” Reggie choked out between sobs.

Sonjay felt like dancing and shouting. He was fit to burst with joy and wished with all his heart that his brother and sisters were there with him at that moment. But all his wishing did not bring them to his side.

“Sissrath says your mother died; is it true?” Reggie asked.

Sonjay swallowed hard and nodded his head. “She had a heart attack. But it was really the deep enchantment that killed her. You know, because she traded years from her life to protect the people.”

“Yes, I know it. I tried to save her. That’s why I came here,” Reggie said huskily as he tried to regain control of his emotions. “Are the others here too? Doshmisi, Denzel, and Maia?”

“We were separated during the passage. I think they probably arrived in Faracadar somewhere, just not with me,” Sonjay explained. “But I don’t know.”

The sound of a struggle in the passageway outside the door of the cell cut their reunion short. Sonjay and Crumpet ran to the threshold of the cell. Buttercup stood just outside the cell, transfixed in horror as she watched the far end of the passageway fill with human-like creatures covered from head to toe in snow-white jumpsuits, their faces hidden by opaque gray masks that did not yield any clue as to the appearance of the creature which lay underneath.

“Run for it!” Buttercup shouted, as she discharged a stream of stinky skunk juice from her super-soaker.