Changing the Prophecy Chapter Eight Episode 2

 

Chapter 8 Sense of Direction -- Episode 2

In the morning, before joining the others, Doshmisi remembered that she had marked that page in the herbal. She pulled the book into her lap and opened it to the page cinched by the rubber band. The words from the previous night had disappeared. The only word on the page was adaptability. She had barely read the word when the rubber band broke and the book snapped shut. “Stubborn book,” she muttered in frustration as she placed it back in the carry case, gathered her belongings, and set out to find Jasper.

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and sweet melon, Doshmisi, Jasper, and Jack took their leave of their friends in the Passage Circle and got back on the road. Doshmisi suggested that they ride north along the beach, but Jasper vetoed that idea. He said riding on the beach would leave them too exposed. He took them instead on a route further inland that followed the shoreline while remaining under the cover of trees. The trees whispered to Doshmisi and made her feel optimistic about getting to the bottom of things at the North Coast. The three travelers rode hard all day. By evening, they had arrived well within the boundaries of the North Coast region, but they had no idea where to look for Sissrath and his encampment.

“We need to find shelter for the night,” Jasper said, as he rode alongside Doshmisi.

“Can we camp in this forest?” she asked.

“An enemy could see us here too easily. I want to find a cave or a structure or something that will hide us,” Jasper replied. Suddenly he drew up his tiger abruptly. “Stop,” he ordered. “Stay completely still.”

Doshmisi obeyed. In the distance, through the trees, she saw what Jasper saw. A small group of human-type figures rode between the trees on horses. The sight of the horses made the hair on the back of Doshmisi’s neck stand up because there were no horses in Faracadar, where people rode tigers instead. The sight of the horses, entirely out of place, frightened her. Jack whimpered. Jasper, who had never seen a horse, turned to her wide-eyed.

“Horses,” Doshmisi whispered to Jasper and Jack. “We have them in the Farland.”

The appearance of the riders disturbed Doshmisi even more than the appearance of the horses they rode. The riders resembled people. They had a head, two arms, and two legs, but from head to toe they wore white jumpsuits that hid every part of their real selves. They wore white gloves, helmet-like head coverings, and gray face masks. They carried some type of guns. Doshmisi wondered if the creatures were slimy or perhaps misshapen under their white jumpsuits. Maybe they had no solid substance to them, like light or water, and the jumpsuits contained them. Or maybe the jumpsuits concealed a hideous form that she could not imagine. She thought of them as aliens.

Doshmisi, Jasper, and Jack remained hidden in the undergrowth and as still as stone until the creatures on the horses passed by and disappeared in the distance. Jasper pointed after them. At first Doshmisi didn’t see what Jasper saw; but then, as her eyes adjusted to the rapidly increasing darkness of night falling, she identified a clearing ahead and in it the outlines of a series of large, barn-like structures. The creatures rode past the barns and into the forest beyond without stopping.

The travelers quietly dismounted from their tigers and left them in a thicket on the edge of the clearing where they could graze on greens and pass the night concealed from sight. Watching for the figures-in-white, they cautiously crept inside the first barn they came upon. Large and empty of all activity, it contained heaps of hay, which would make it a comfortable place to bed down for the night. Jasper took a glow-lamp from his bag. He handed it to Doshmisi, who held it up as she wandered to the back of the barn. She opened the door to a stall and found herself face-to-face with a large chestnut stallion. The stallion snorted through his nostrils loudly. Doshmisi heard Jack cry out in alarm. The stallion tossed his midnight-black mane and whinnied.

Doshmisi murmured in awe, “You are the most handsome horse I have ever laid eyes on.”

The stallion emanated a wild energy that made Doshmisi’s breath quicken. She felt around in her bag and found an apple. She bit off a large chunk and spit it out into her palm, then offered it to the stallion as a gift. He sniffed the apple and then picked it up delicately with his large lips and ate it. Doshmisi repeated this again and again until she had fed the whole apple to the stallion. Then she tentatively patted his nose. He nuzzled her. “Such a beauty,” Doshmisi cooed. “Can we be friends?” She stroked his long neck and buried her face in his mane. He smelled like sweet alfalfa. His presence comforted her.

“It’s OK,” Doshmisi called softly to Jack and Jasper. “There’s a horse in here. He’s magnificent. I’ve befriended him. I know all about horses because Aunt Alice has horses at Manzanita Ranch. I’ve taken care of them and ridden them. He won’t hurt you. Come see. In the Farland people ride horses the way you ride tigers here.”

Jack and Jasper peered cautiously into the stall, where Doshmisi continued to stroke the stallion and talk to him. “I don’t know your name,” Doshmisi said to the stallion, “so I’m going to call you Dagobaz if that’s OK with you. I read about a horse named Dagobaz in a book once. The Dagobaz in the book could only be ridden by one who tamed him.” The horse nodded his head and snorted, as if in approval. Doshmisi crooned the name Dagobaz lovingly to the stallion.

She would have stayed with Dagobaz, but Jasper insisted that she come out and have something to eat with him and Jack. They ate sandwiches that Cinnamon had packed for them at the Passage Circle, which seemed years in the past even though it had only been that morning. Then they took out their bedrolls.

“I’m going to sleep in the stall with Dagobaz,” Doshmisi informed the others.

“Is that safe?” Jasper asked worriedly.

“It’s fine. That horse and I have a connection, a sort of understanding,” she attempted to explain. “Kind of like the connection I have with the whales and the trees.”

“If you say so,” Jasper replied, although he still looked a little worried. “If you need us, Jack and I will be in that stall across the way.”

“Sounds good,” Doshmisi said. She took her bedroll into Dagobaz’s stall and rested her cheek against his neck. She stroked his side and his back and ran her hand down the front of each of his front legs. He nuzzled her. Her amulet began to glow green.

“What is it?” she asked him. “Why do I feel like I know you so well?”

Dagobaz tossed his head and folded himself down into the hay. Doshmisi stretched out beside him. She rested her head on his side and pulled her bedroll over her like a blanket. Dagobaz nudged her glowing amulet with his nose and then snorted at the ceiling. She soon fell asleep with a smile on her face.

In the morning, Dagobaz woke Doshmisi at sunrise when he stood up and visited his water trough for a cool drink. Doshmisi, Jasper, and Jack shared half a loaf of bread with cheese and prepared to depart.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you,” Doshmisi promised Dagobaz as she sadly took her leave. She needed that stallion and he needed her. They were meant for each other; she could feel it in her blood.

Jasper found the tigers, well-rested and safe. They decided to leave the tigers where they were and proceeded with caution on foot toward the ocean, which was so near to them that they could smell the salt water on the air. They did not walk far before they reached a vista point from which the ocean spread out before them sparkling like diamonds in the mauve-tinted morning light.

As she took in the panoramic view, Doshmisi’s gaze fell abruptly on the incongruous sight of a frighteningly enormous metal oil derrick pumping up and down less than a half a mile out from the shoreline. Several boats bobbed between the beach and the oil well, coming and going from the site.

Jasper pointed to a place up from the beach and said, “Look there.”

Where he pointed, Doshmisi saw an open area carved out of the trees and the undergrowth, about a quarter of a mile up from the sandy beach. She saw several low buildings and what appeared to be a compound full of people, like a large outdoor pen. Smoke from cooking fires rose in thin ribbons from the compound.

“Let’s investigate,” Jasper said.

“Hostages,” Jack stated.

“Really Jack? That does not sound good,” Doshmisi responded.

“Stay alert. We can’t let ourselves be caught,” Jasper ordered.

Doshmisi knew from painful personal experience that avoiding capture was easier said than done.

Changing the Prophecy Chapter Eight Episode 1

Chapter 8 Sense of Direction -- Episode 1

Jasper, Jack, and Doshmisi rode into the Passage Circle at dusk. The previous year, Sissrath’s Special Forces had burned the Passage Circle nearly to the ground. As Doshmisi gazed around in amazement, she saw how much of the circle the people had rebuilt in only one year. Her sister Maia’s buddies, the drummers, had begun to assemble in the central plaza for an evening of drumming. Several of them rushed over to greet Doshmisi as she rode in on her tiger. They immediately asked about Maia and Doshmisi was sorry to disappoint them when she told them that Maia had not come with her. “She’s in Faracadar somewhere,” she said, optimistically, “so you’ll probably hook up with her before long.” Thinking about the botched passage worried her. Had Maia and the others really made the passage?

The drummers smiled and tossed their heads so that their long dreadlocks or long braids (whichever they sported) bopped and popped about. “We’ll drum in her honor tonight and perhaps that will bring her closer to us,” one of them said.

“I feel certain it will,” Doshmisi agreed. The drummer’s words comforted her. After speaking with the drummers, she turned to follow Jasper and Jack through the plaza and toward the side of town nearest to the beaches, where their friends Ginger and Cinnamon lived. Ginger and Cinnamon and their many daughters had once had a large, beautiful house with a spectacular view of the ocean. But the fire had destroyed it. In eager anticipation, Doshmisi rode up the hill to where the house used to stand. She hoped to see it rebuilt, like so many of the other houses she had passed. To her delight, she discovered a periwinkle-blue house with coffee-brown trim in the exact same location. It was not as big as its predecessor, and the plants in the yard were small compared to the mature flowering shrubs and large sage and rosemary that had grown there before the fire. The fig tree had survived and it greeted her with an abundance of lovely new leaves.

Doshmisi hopped off her tiger and bounded to the door, where she knocked twice before opening it and calling, “Ginger! Cinnamon! Anyone home?”

Cinnamon appeared in the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall. She wore a pair of sturdy overalls and she wiped her hands on a towel. Her face lit up at the sight of Doshmisi and she called to her family to come see who had arrived as she ran to embrace her friend. Doshmisi and Cinnamon laughed with pleasure.

“You rebuilt it so fast,” Doshmisi remarked.

“Well, we had many hands applied to the task,” Cinnamon explained. “And of course our men came home when you freed them from the prison at Big House City. Although Ginger and I have still not decided yet whether the help they provide outweighs the extra work they create for us,” Cinnamon joked.

“Hey, hey,” Cinnamon’s husband boomed behind her, “none of that slander. You missed me when I was gone. Admit it. You know you did.” He gave Doshmisi a hug, shook hands with Jasper, and then put his arm around his wife’s waist affectionately.

Doshmisi smiled at the sight of the two of them together. They had spent many years apart while Sissrath imprisoned Cinnamon’s husband for resisting the enchanter’s rule. “Where’s Ginger?” she asked. “And the girls?”

“The girls went to the plaza for the drumming,” Cinnamon’s husband replied.

“And Ginger isn’t feeling well,” Cinnamon informed her.

“What’s the matter? Maybe I can help,” Doshmisi offered.

“She went to lay down in her room. Come, I’ll give you the grand tour of our new house and take you to see her,” Cinnamon said.

“How about some chocolate ice cream for the intuit?” Cinnamon’s husband suggested to Jack, with a twinkle in his eye.

Jack bobbed up and down in the air energetically and echoed gleefully, “Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate.”

“Maybe some for the guide too?” Jasper asked.

“I think that can be arranged,” Cinnamon’s husband agreed with a chuckle.

“I’ll go settle the tigers and then I’ll be right back,” Jasper said.

Doshmisi followed Cinnamon upstairs. The previous house, before it burned, had been considerably larger, with an open center and a balcony that went all the way around the inside of the second floor. This house had no such thing. The stairs led to a second floor hallway. Cinnamon went to the first room on the left and knocked on the door, which she then opened a crack as she said, “You’ll never guess who just arrived. Doshmisi. She travels with Jasper and the intuit. Can we come in?”

A rustle of clothing and bedding whispered inside the room and then Ginger replied, “Yes, come on in.”

Doshmisi followed Cinnamon into the bedroom. The sun had set and night was falling quickly. Through the open window, Doshmisi could hear the waves washing on the beach in the distance. She loved Ginger and Cinnamon’s house. Both the old one and now the new one. They had the sort of house that felt cozy and safe, the sort of house that you could lean into softly and rest for days, dozing in bed, reading, eating soup, and not worrying about Sissrath plotting to ruin people’s lives and hurt whales.

Doshmisi held her hands out to her friend. “Ginger, what’s wrong? I have the herbal with me.” Even as she said these words, Doshmisi could feel the anxiety mounting within her as she wondered if the herbal would behave properly or do something strange and puzzling again instead.

Ginger took Doshmisi’s hands in hers happily. Her eyes sparkled and she didn’t appear sick. “I feel ridiculous,” Ginger told Doshmisi. “I have some foolish kind of rash on my stomach. I can’t tell if it’s an infection or an allergic reaction to something or a symptom of something else. I’ve been taking a homeopathic remedy to keep it from itching. I had planned to see a healer tomorrow because it won’t go away. My skin is so sensitive that I don’t like to cover it so I’ve been up here by myself with my belly bare, trying to get some relief.”

“Well, let’s see what the herbal says.” Doshmisi unbuckled the front of the carry case and removed the enchanted book. As she lifted the herbal, she tried not to register her anxiety in her face or her movements, even though she wondered what the herbal would do when she tried to use it. “Do you mind if I have a look at the rash?” she asked.

Ginger peeled back the blankets and lifted her shirt. Angry whitish-yellow bumps covered her stomach. Doshmisi recognized the rash. She had seen one like it the previous year when she worked in the clinic behind Ginger and Cinnamon’s house. She remembered what the herbal had said to do about it, thank goodness, because if the herbal misbehaved then she could still treat Ginger. But she wanted to see what the herbal would say if she tried to use it. So she placed it on Ginger’s chest and waited for it to open.

Doshmisi felt a rush of relief when the herbal actually opened to a page like it was supposed to do. She took a rubber band from her pocket and put it around the book to hold her place. Then she read the page and her heart sank. Only a few sentences of information appeared on the page and they had nothing whatsoever to do with Ginger’s rash. The herbal read: There once was a land fueled by oil. The people of the land failed to think ahead. They resisted evolution. When their oil started to run out, they killed each other to possess more of the remains. They failed to seek new ways or to build new paradigms. They were not adaptable like the insects. Insects survive. The people will vanish and insects will inherit the land. Cockroaches are adaptable. They like to eat grease, but if no grease presents itself, then cockroaches will eat something else.

That was all it said on the page that opened for Doshmisi and she could not force the book to turn to the next page. She closed it gently and hoped that the rubber band would hold her place and allow her to study the page more carefully later. The herbal was transforming itself, but what was it transforming itself into? Ginger sensed Doshmisi’s alarm caused by the mysterious story in the book, but she mistook it for alarm at the problem of the rash.

“Is it dangerous?” Ginger asked anxiously.

“It’s nothing serious, is it?” Cinnamon chimed in.

“No, no,” Doshmisi responded. “It’s not serious. It’s kind of icky, though. It’s not an infection or an allergy. It’s a fungus. You can make it go away by creating a hostile environment that kills it off. I’ll write down the recipe for a paste that you must spread on your stomach for the next few days.”

“A fungus?!” Ginger repeated in horror, as she wrinkled her nose. “Ewww. How did I get something as disgusting as that?”

“Probably from the garden,” Doshmisi told her. She knew that Ginger spent long hours working in the fields and gardens. “It might have happened if you were lying on your stomach in the dirt. It’ll go away fast with the paste. I saw the same ailment on several gardeners here last year. It’s actually pretty common.”

“Come, let’s go mix up the paste so Ginger can start getting better,” Cinnamon suggested. “I’ll be back soon,” she assured her sister as she headed toward the door.

Doshmisi stood, replaced the herbal in the carry case, and followed Cinnamon from the room. She joined Jasper and Jack in the kitchen, where Jack had his head buried in a bowl of ice cream. She was distracted by her concern about the bizarre story appearing in the herbal. She didn’t want to talk about it, though, so she forced herself to behave as normally as possible.

“Do you think it wise to feed an intuit chocolate right before bed?” Doshmisi asked Cinnamon’s husband. He laughed and replied, “He might be an intuit, but he’s also a little boy and he deserves the opportunity to be a child now and then.”

Doshmisi agreed with that. Intuits didn’t often get to play and have fun like other children, and they burned with an intense energy that burned their life right up at a young age. Sonjay and Denzel had made skateboards for some of the intuits, including Jack, the previous year. As it turned out, when intuits stood on skateboards they turned into hoverboards and intuits, especially Jack, were exceptional skaters (or hoverers, as it were).

“So where are you headed?” Cinnamon asked Doshmisi and Jasper.

“To the North Coast,” Jasper informed her. “Sissrath has something going on up there and we want to find out what exactly that is.”

“We heard that he sent Compost and an army to lay siege to Big House City,” Cinnamon’s husband said. “I’ve considered getting together a group to ride over there to see what we can do about it. But I couldn’t get a message through to the Crystal Communication Dome. Do you know what happened at the Dome?”

“We came through the Dome Circle on our way here,” Jasper replied. “Sissrath’s Special Forces shut the Dome down. He left them there to guard it and they have terrorized the people of the circle, killing some of them. They have a lethal weapon.”

“The weapon is called a gun. We have guns in the Farland,” Doshmisi chimed in. “The guns shoot a metal bullet that can kill or wound a person instantly. I don’t think you should ride to Big House City or the Dome until we figure out why Sissrath went to the North Coast and what he has concealed there.”

“Doshmisi thinks he created the siege to distract everyone from this project of his at the North Coast,” Jasper added. “We intend to ride up there first thing in the morning.”

“In that case, you could use a good night’s sleep,” Cinnamon suggested and Doshmisi suddenly realized that she was indeed exhausted from the long day of travel. She wrote out the recipe and directions for the paste for Ginger’s rash and then followed Cinnamon to a guest room where she collapsed into a cozy bed and fell into a deep sleep.

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.”