The Warble (14 page)

It was raining heavily at the base of
the mountain, so Prince Ramon ordered the zelbocks escorting Werrien to stop
for the evening. The harsh weather conditions would make it too treacherous to
carry on in the dark, and so the plan was to continue on at first light.

Werrien was imprisoned
in a barred crate and had no shelter from the cold rain. From where he sat,
drenched and shivering, he could see the zelbocks gathered around a roaring
fire, drinking wine in celebration of their so-called victory of finding the
Warble. Their insane laughter echoed through the forest as they crashed their
large wooden mugs together in victory toasts.

Not far from the fire,
set up snug and cozy for the night in his luxurious tent, was Ramon, and in his
possession was the Warble. He lay sprawled out on his bed, drunk from the wine.
He tossed the Warble into air and then caught it, over and over, as if it were
nothing more than a toy ball. Its swirling colors were changing again, from all
the shades of green to a vibrant yellow. “It is a pity that you’ve waited so
long and traveled so far, only to have your beautiful colors smashed to
itsy-bitsy pieces. There were times when I was a child that I secretly wished
that I’d be the one to place you in your resting place. Oh, what glory and
honor I thought I would receive. But I was just a foolish lad, not realizing
that being the destroyer of the Warble was my true destiny—and a far greater
honor!”

Beside his bed was a
birdcage on a table. Inside the cage was a tiny prisoner: Clover. Ramon placed
the Warble on the bed beside him and then turned on his side to face her. “If
only you were my size, I would make you my bride,” he said, slurring his words.

“Lucky for me then that
I’m not your size, though if I were, you wouldn’t have been able to capture
me,” Clover said angrily.

“Oh, is that so? You
think you’re so tough, do you?” Ramon picked up his horsewhip that lay beside
the birdcage. He stuck it through the cage wires and began haphazardly poking
it at Clover. “Is it true that if I touch your wings you won’t be able to fly
again?” he asked between hiccups.

Clover didn’t answer;
she was far too busy dodging his forceful pokes. Finally, Ramon stopped poking
her to guzzle more of his wine, spilling it down the sides of his cheeks. Then
he lay back on his bed and began to laugh insanely. A few seconds later, he
stopped and passed out, leaving the whip stuck in the cage. His goblet of wine
fell out of his hand and spilled onto the bed, and in a drunken stupor, he
began snoring loudly.

Clover stood at the
back of the cage with her tiny hands clenched tightly around the wires. Her
heart was pattering as fast as a drum-roll. She glanced up to where the whip
was stuck through the cage wires. The poking Ramon had been doing had caused
the wires to bend outward, making a slightly bigger space between them. Clover
looked up at the gap, and at that instant, she felt hope flood over her.
Could
it be big enough for me to escape?
She jumped on top of the whip, and like
a gymnast on a balance beam, she carefully walked up to the hole. It was big
enough for her to get through, but the problem was her wings. They were too
large to fit through without getting damaged. She grabbed hold of the bars, and
with all her strength, she tried to pry them apart a little more. They wouldn’t
budge. She rested a moment and then tried once more, but this time when she let
go, she lost her balance. She fell from the whip and landed with a thump on the
bottom of the cage. She stood up again and grabbed hold of the whip, but as she
did so, Ramon sleepily reached up and grabbed the end of it. He pulled it out
of the cage with Clover hanging onto it. She closed her eyes and folded her
wings back in the best way that she could. To her surprise, she slipped right
through the hole.

Ramon rolled over with
his whip in hand and flung her into the air. She opened her eyes to find her
wings in perfect condition. She looked down at Ramon, who was lying on his
stomach on top of the Warble. He burped loudly and dropped the whip to the
floor.

“Disgusting creature!”
Clover said, and then flew out of the tent. Once she was outside, she took a
deep breath of the cold, fresh air. Just ahead of her was the roaring fire and
the drunken zelbocks, still celebrating around it. The fire gave off enough
light for her to see the crate that held Werrien. She flew as fast as she could
toward it, hoping not to be noticed by the zelbocks. They were so drunk that
they wouldn’t have noticed her anyway, or for that matter, even cared if they
did.

When Clover arrived at
the cage, she found Werrien, soaking wet, sitting with his head down between
his knees. She flew quietly through the bars and landed on his shoulder.
Thinking it was a zelbock reaching out for him; Werrien flinched and pulled
away from her. “Werrien, it’s me, Clover.”

Disoriented from lack
of food and sleep, Werrien lifted his head slowly. “Clover! How did you
escape?”

“Ramon got obnoxiously
drunk and then passed out. If you ask me, the guy’s more than a few bricks
short of a load. Anyhow, we must act quickly to get you out of here while the
zelbocks are still drunk, because once they sober up, we don’t stand a chance.”

“It’s no use. I’ve been
trying all night to figure a way out of here. What I need is a saw to cut
through these bars.”

Clover flew over to the
heavy lock that hung from a chain, securing the door to the crate. She reached
inside the lock’s keyhole.

Werrien could hear it
clanking as she fiddled with it. He had tried for hours to open it and thought
she’d do no better. “Clover, I really appreciate your effort, but you’d be
better off to find someone and ask them to come to me with a saw. At least
then—” But before he could finish his thought, the lock suddenly fell off and
landed with a thud on the soft ground. “Clover, where did you learn to pick
locks?”

“Werrien, don’t you
know my purpose as a fairy?” Clover said, proudly.

“To help those in need
is the fairy’s creed,” they said in unison.

As she spoke the creed,
Clover’s conscience reminded her of how nasty she had been to Kristina;
nevertheless she quickly disregarded it, for it was not the place or time to be
thinking of
her
. She had to get Werrien away from the zelbocks—and the
sooner the better.

Werrien reached his
hand through the bars and removed the lock from the latch. Then he pushed the
door open and jumped out. The wet ground under his feet had never felt so good.
“Okay, let’s go get the Warble.” He rubbed his ice cold hands together.

Clover looked worried.
“That’s not going to be possible.”

“What do you mean, not
possible? I know Ramon has it, and I know he’s in his tent, so let’s go get
it.” Werrien started walking towards Ramon’s tent.

“But Werrien, Ramon is
much older, bigger, and stronger than you.” Clover felt embarrassed for
pointing out the fact.

“I’m not scared of
Ramon. Besides, you said he was passed-out drunk. If I don’t take this
opportunity now, I might as well get back in that crate and await my death. It
will be better than spending the rest of my life in hiding, knowing I was the
one who had the Warble and then had it taken away by the zelbocks, who in turn
handed it over to that fool of a deceitful prince.” Werrien began walking even
faster toward the tent, so Clover flew ahead of him. She stopped in midair, in
front of his face.

“There’s another
thing,” Clover said. “Ramon is lying on top of the Warble. You’d have to wake
him to get it out from under him.”

“I guess I’ll just have
to take that chance.” Werrien brushed her out of his way with the back of his
hand. He passed by the fire pit, which had died down to a small pile of glowing
coals. The zelbocks, who had drunk their fill of wine, sat slumped over around
it, snoring loudly, like a chorus of fog horns.

As Werrien approached
Ramon’s tent, he could see the flickering light of a candle. He peeked between
the ties that fastened the door flaps together. Ramon was lying with his back
toward the opening, snoring so loudly that the tent walls were vibrating.

“Werrien, do you really
think you should go in there? We could escape so easily right now and be home
in no time,” Clover said.

Werrien gave no reply.
Instead, he untied the door flaps of the tent and stepped inside.

While staring out her carriage window,
an ever so slight smile came across Queen Sentiz’s blood-red lips. She would
soon be arriving at Ramon’s base camp, along with her entourage of servant
dwarfs, gnomes, and zelbocks. The plan was to set up camp for the night and
then leave at the crack of dawn to head up Mount Bernovem. Once at the top of
the mountain, the ceremony would begin.

All was falling neatly
into place, and going just as she desired. The Warble was in Ramon’s
possession. The boy Werrien was captured, and even a meddling fairy, who just
happened to be the Fairy King’s daughter, had been caught.
What a glorious
day—and one to remember,
the queen thought. She would have the pleasure of
watching her son, Ramon, destroy the Warble, and she would make sure that
Werrien had a front row seat for the event. Then, after the Warble was
destroyed, she would have Werrien killed.

As she marveled in
these thoughts, a sudden flashback came into her mind and her smile changed
into an ice-cold glare of insecurity. She envisioned herself clutching the Book
of Prophecy and then toppling headfirst into the dark, rough sea. Her stomach
turned as she stared blankly out the carriage window, envisioning the book
slipping from her fingers. “Gone! Gone forever,” she winced, dragging her long
red nails down the sides of her pale, gaunt face in anguish.

Even though she had
dropped the book onto the boat’s bottom when she slipped and fell, she thought
that she had taken it overboard with her.
Oh, how I want that book!
It
would have helped me foresee all that is going to happen in Bernovem and how
well Ramon is handling being in charge at the camp.
For a brief moment, a
tiny bit of appreciation crept into her cold heart, and she actually felt a
little proud of her son for having everything in order.
This is the first
time he has accomplished much of anything
.

The carriage finally
came to a halt and a few moments later, the queen’s door swung open. She
extended her bony arm, and a zelbock helped her out of the carriage. They had
arrived at the base camp, but it was definitely not what Queen Sentiz had
expected. Everything was very still and quiet, except for a few pops in the
dying fire. “Why is my son not here to greet me?” the queen asked.

The zelbock didn’t have
a clue, so he remained silent—a well learned discipline when being spoken to by
Her Majesty.

“This is preposterous!”
She pushed the zelbock out of her way and began stomping angrily toward Ramon’s
tent. She passed by the embers of the bonfire, but because of the darkness, she
didn’t notice the sleeping zelbocks.

Clover sat on one of
the door ties of Ramon’s tent, waiting for Werrien, who was busy searching
under the drunken so-called prince for the Warble. He hadn’t been in the tent
for more than a few minutes when Clover caught sight of Queen Sentiz marching
angrily toward it. Clover stuck her little head and arms through the crack in
the door flap and began gesturing with her hands for Werrien to come out, but
he only shook his head and tried to shoo her away.
Of all times to bother
me, she’s picked the worst.
And besides, I don’t need to listen to her
negativity. I know she wants to tell me it isn’t worth risking my life over.

But Clover persisted by
waving her hands over her head. Werrien looked up again to see her drag her
finger across her throat. She was trying to let him know that trouble was
coming, but he took the gesture to mean, “Cut it out and let’s get out of
here.” He placed his arm between the drunken Ramon and the bed and felt around
for the Warble. When he finally located it, he slowly pulled his arm out. Ramon
didn’t even stop his obnoxious snoring, although he did burp loudly, right in
Werrien’s face, which caused Werrien to hold his breath from the stench. Now
all he had to do was make it safely out of the camp and find Kristina. After
that, the two would head up Mount Bernovem, and Kristina could place the Warble
in its resting place. Then the spell would be lifted, and Queen Sentiz would no
longer be queen. It all sounded so easy, but when Werrien stood up and looked
toward the tent door, he saw eight, long, red nails, four on each side of the
door flaps, about to pull the flaps aside.

Clover jumped off the
tie knot just as the dagger-like nails viciously ripped the tent door open. A
cold wind blew in, followed by silence. Clover was blown up into a corner of
the tent by the strong wind. Werrien felt a lump rise in his throat as he gazed
up at Queen Sentiz in the doorway. Her immense figure cast a dark shadow over
his entire body. She stared down at him with dark, ice-cold eyes. Werrien’s
heart began to pound fast.
There has to be a way out of this situation,
he
thought. But he had no weapon to defend himself, and with Queen Sentiz standing
in the entrance to the tent, there was not much of a chance in making a run for
the tent door. Hopelessness tried to invade his mind, but he didn’t let it in.
He just knew that no matter what, he must not give in to the evil queen.

It was so quiet that he
could hear the smooth rhythm of Clover’s wings flapping in the upper corner of
the tent. Then Queen Sentiz finally broke the eerie silence. “You must be the
boy, Werrien.” She revealed a wicked smile.

Werrien stood silent.

“What’s the matter,
boy? Did a dwarf cut out your tongue?”

Werrien still said
nothing.

“Answer me!”

“Why do you ask, when
you already know who I am?”

“Don’t sass me, peasant
boy. I know why you’re in here. You’re nothing more than a little thief. Now,
reveal what you are hiding behind your back!”

“You’re the thief and a
cowardly liar,” Werrien retorted, “and your son is nothing but a drunken fool.”

Queen Sentiz looked
over at Ramon, still passed out on his bed. Her eyes grew twice their size, for
she hadn’t noticed him up until this point.

A drop of sweat fell
from Werrien’s forehead. Even though he was being brave, he felt like a scared
rabbit being cornered by a bloodthirsty wolf.

The queen reached into
her fur stole, pulled out a small purple bottle, and carefully removed its lid.
“My, what youthful skin you have, and such a flawless complexion,” she crooned.
Then she took the bottle, tipped it slightly, and dripped a single drop of its
contents onto the rug on the tent floor. As the drop hit the rug, Werrien could
hear it sizzle, and he looked down to see it had burned a hole through the tent
flooring and into the earth below. When it stopped sizzling, there was a
three-inch hole in the ground. “I would hate to have to pour this over your
lovely head of sandy-blond hair.” Her evil smile grew more immense. “Now, hand
over what you’re hiding behind your back, and I’ll put this lovely potion
away.”

Werrien looked up at
Clover, who was gesturing something again with her hands. Werrien nodded,
although he wasn’t sure what Clover was trying to tell him. Queen Sentiz began
to walk toward Werrien, but before she could reach him, Clover flew at her like
a flying arrow. The fairy grabbed hold of the queen’s raven-black hair and,
like a whirlwind, wound it tightly around her head, covering her eyes.

Queen Sentiz was taken
by such surprise that she dropped the potion. Like a soldier fleeing a grenade,
Werrien dodged around her and made it safely out of the tent, with Clover right
behind him. The spilled potion was so strong that the whole tent lit up and
shook violently. It even woke Ramon. He sat straight up in his bed to see a
giant crater right beside it. Still drunk and not knowing what to think, he
scratched his head and belched loudly.

“Ramon!” Queen Sentiz
yelled at the top of her lungs from inside the crater.

Although the loud
shaking of the tent hadn’t fazed the sleeping zelbocks outside, the
blood-curdling scream of Queen Sentiz brought them to their feet.