Free The Wicked Wand by Steve Shilstone Page B

say, should be locked away.’ The troll roared his approval. The witch said nothing. I silently urged her to plead for her powers to be complete. ‘Yoss,’ she said reluctantly, ‘until we grind the glue ... find the Shoe, I agree. But who has it? Where is it?’ I were now prepared to slip away and hide. Too late again! Lackwit! I rolled from under the window and lifted to float off through the trees. The meddlesome troll roared, ‘There it goes!’ Seen! I were seen! Startled to empty of wit, I floated unthinking to rush away. Downhill and over stream. Tricklestream! I toppled splash and spun a bump into ferns. I flopped free of the water and began to lift. No good. Too late. I were clutched from the air and quickly crammed into a darkness which were, I quickly learned, the waterwizard’s pouchbag. I bumped against bottles and amulets. ‘It flies on its cone ... own,’ I heard the witch gasp. ‘I told you it was dangerous!’ boomed the troll. ‘This be a fresh stream of development. Did ye note how it failed to fly over the tricklestream?’ said the far too intelligent waterwizard. I felt the pouchbag swinging along until it were plunked down on a probable table in the probable witch’s cottage. There followed a long discussion about what to do with me. The meddlesome troll were for burial. I thanked him and plotted a mischievous revenge. Then! Then revenge, not now. The witch said someone might pick me up. Then she gasped and uttered in a hush, ‘Praw Fuh Sigh.’ They all fell silent. What were happening? It were too quiet for too long. Then, finally, Briny Brook spoke. ‘That be clear enough,’ he said. ‘Solved. But where exactly be this volcano?’ The rumble of the troll chimed in. ‘What’s clear enough? I saw only runes. I don’t read runes!’ he whined. ‘Sabeek orrun,’ said the witch. ‘Practice ... patience. The crystal hall ... ball ... says that the ... the orruneries of Orrun Mountain Swallow ... Hollow ... will ride ... guide ... the waterwizard. Yoss! That’s it!’ I frantically grabbed at the elusive bolt magic inside of me. It taunted me, slipping away to the left, to the right. I were trapped. Something were going to happen. What?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight
    IMPRISONED
    â€œMy story be nearly told,” said the wand. “I be ready to serve ye, new Harick. Carry me across the sea. Carry me wherever ye go. I yearn to go from Woeful Wanderers’ Wasteland to Blossom Castle, from the Falls of Horn and the Chack Tree Forest to Honeygold and Longthin Lake, from Skrabble’s crags to the FiddLeeeBoad, from ...”
    â€œBond! Wand! Settle!” I commanded, raising my lavender ring bedecked hands. “Finish the glory burst.”
    â€œFinish the story first, she means,” corrected Kar quickly.
    â€œThus I bow,” said the wand, rising to tilt. “There be not a great much more to tell. The pouchbag were swung up and carried off with me inside it. I do not know what span of time then passed. I could not tell, confined as I were among bottles and amulets in the pouchbag. Briny Brook sang happily. I vowed to turn his beard to tar if ever I got the chance. Of course that were then, ye see, not now. Now I would like to visit him and thank him for helping me to see the error of my wicked ways. I hope that ye would wish it, new Harick. A visit to the oasis?”
    â€œWe’ll see,” I said with a masterful frown.
    â€œGood, Bek,” whispered Kar.
    â€œNot a drop of mischief be there left inside me. It be all misted away,” said the wand. “Misted away.”
    The wand’s wooden words seemed so such to be filled with regret. Regret for what? Loss of mischief? Loss of eons trapped in the Vault? I could not decide.
    â€œThe waterwizard carried me to Orrun Mountain Hollow,” continued the wand. “How did I know? He said so. I felt