The Warble (15 page)

After Ramon pulled her out of the large
crater, Queen Sentiz screamed at the top of her lungs: “The boy has escaped
with the Warble!”

Inside the tent, now
sober but with a nasty headache, Ramon hurried to dress himself, and he hopped
around, pulling his socks on. The queen was so furious with him for getting
drunk and letting Werrien escape with the Warble that she picked up his
horsewhip and began whipping him with it. “You good-for-nothing imbecile! I
can’t believe you are even related to me!” She backed him up until he fell into
to the large hole. “If you don’t get the Warble and that boy back, I’ll have
you banished to Treachery Island, where you can sit and rot for the rest of
your miserable days!”

He looked up into her
flared nostrils and cowered at the bottom of the hole.

While Queen Sentiz was
busy scolding Ramon, Werrien was also busy—he was planning his next move,
trying to find his way out of the base camp. He ran as fast as he could through
the camp, dodging between tents and anything big enough to hide behind, so as
not to be noticed by the zelbocks, who were now aware that he had escaped. They
were swarming the place, looking everywhere for him. At one point, Werrien
stopped to rest for a moment behind a tent, and while catching his breath and
wiping his brow, he could see the silhouette of a zelbock through the tent’s
wall. It picked up a spiked flail and headed for the tent door.

Werrien knew he
couldn’t rest long, so he scoped out his surroundings, planning where to run
next. Then, just as he was about to take off, the zelbock’s dark shadow
appeared in front of him. He could feel as well as smell its stinky breath on
the back of his neck. He turned around slowly and saw the zelbock holding a war
club, directly over his head. It smiled wickedly, revealing its
broken-glass-like teeth. Then with all its might, it violently smashed the war
club down toward Werrien.

Werrien was too quick
and agile and was able to duck out of the way, allowing the war club to smash
down beside him in the moist ground. The zelbock’s wicked smile changed into an
angry, frustrated look. Then it pulled the war club out of the ground, ripping
a large amount of the earth and grass up with it.

Werrien began running
again. Now that he had been seen, there wouldn’t be any more stopping, no
matter how breathless he got. He ran straight through the camp, passing tents,
fire pits, and heavy artillery, until he finally made it to a clearing. The mother-of-pearl
moon illuminated the land ahead of him, making the forest visible across a flat
plain. He continued to run toward the forest, but the zelbocks quickly mounted
their horses and charged after him. He glanced back—there were at least fifty
of them, all with lit torches and weapons. Sharp pains shot down his aching
legs as the last bit of adrenaline empowered him to run even faster. No one
knew the woods as well as he did, and if he could make it that far, then he was
sure he could lose the zelbocks, at least for the time being. But the zelbocks
were quickly gaining ground on him, and he could hear their horses’ hooves
pounding the ground. They began shooting arrows at him, barely missing him. He
knew that he could not outrun their military horses. His energy began fading
even more—he hadn’t had more than water and a small piece of stale bread in the
last few days. He closed his eyes briefly and hoped that his body would not
give up on him. As he did so, a memory of his father flashed into his mind.
“Someday,
you will be King of Bernovem, and whatever you have to face, no matter how
trying, you must be strong and never let your people down. You must never give
up at fighting the good fight.”

“Never give up”
now echoed in his mind. He opened his eyes and looked up to the sky, and to his
surprise, he saw hundreds of ravens flying out of the forest. There were so
many of them that they blocked the light of the moon, making it hard to see.
The ravens flew speedily toward the zelbocks, and once above them, began
dropping grenades on them that the dwarfs and gnomes had made. Werrien could
smell the strong odor and smoke from the blasts as the grenades plummeted to
the ground. It ignited a spark of hope inside him and his father’s words
flashed through his mind once again:
“Someday, you will be King of
Bernovem.”

Werrien stood along the
forest’s edge, catching his breath. He could see the surviving zelbocks
retreating back to the camp. The ones that were hit by the grenades lay
scattered along the smoking ground.

All was quiet now
except for the sound of the rain that had begun falling again. Lightning
flashed across the sky, and at that very same moment, Werrien felt the Warble
warm up within his pocket. He took it out and held it in the palm of his hand.
Its color began to change again. The vibrant yellow was turning into a
brilliant orange right before his eyes. He was happy to have it back in his
possession, but now he needed to find Kristina. He placed it back in his pocket
and began to make his way into the forest. He couldn’t see anything as he
entered the thick woods—it was too dense for the moonlight to shine through the
trees. He didn’t have anything to light his way, so even though he knew the
woods well, it would take too long to feel his way through the darkness. He
thought for a moment and then an idea popped into his head. He would use the
Warble to light the way. Once again, he took it out of his pocket and held it
out in front of him. It gave off just enough light for him to see about twenty
feet ahead. Now, at least he could see which direction he needed to go to get
to the place where Kristina and he had camped. From there, he could try to find
her or Taysha’s tracks. If he traveled fast enough, he figured he could make it
there within the hour—at least that’s what he hoped.

He hadn’t traveled very
far when he heard rustling in the treetops above him. He held the Warble above
his head and looked up to see what was making the noise. When he couldn’t see
anything, he walked on, but after a few steps he heard the rustling again. He
spun around quickly. “Who’s up there?” he said sternly and shined the Warble up
into the tree.

“It’s probably not a
good idea to have that out in the open,” a voice said.

“Who are you?”
Werrien’s eyes were squinting as he tried to see who he was talking to.

“Roage.”

“What do you want?”

Roage didn’t answer but
instead asked, “Did you like how my comrades defended you out on the plain?”

“That was your doing?”

Roage’s head tilted and
he blinked his black eyes. “I know that you are the true prince of Bernovem.”

“I don’t know what to
say other than thank you for saving my life.”

“There is no need to
say anything else, for I know time is running out.”

Werrien’s brow creased.
“What do you mean, time is running out?”

“The Warble has gone
through all of its colors, except for one: red. When it does turn red, which
will not be too long from now, it will start to lose its powers. Before that
happens, Kristina must place it in its resting place in order for the spell to
be broken.”

“I still have to find
Kristina, and then we have to climb the mountain and find its resting place.
How can we do all of that before it turns red?”

“There is a way, but
you must follow my instructions precisely.”

Werrien looked tired
and uncertain. “What do you want me to do?”

“You must travel a
little farther northwest, until you come to a certain Sycamore tree with a soft
spot in its trunk. Push in on it, for behind it, hidden inside the tree, is a
gold case. Take it out, and put the Warble inside it. This case will protect it
from changing color until you open it again.”

“Sycamore trees are
very rare. There may not be fifty in the entire forest.”

“Search carefully, and
you will find it.”

“But what if I don’t?”

Suddenly another raven
could be heard cawing from off in the distance.

“I’m sorry, but I must
go.”

Before Werrien could
respond, Roage flew off.

Werrien decided to put his trust in
Roage, and so he headed northwest through the dark, wet forest. Though he knew
it wasn’t wise to have the Warble out in the open, it was all he had with him
to light the way. He kept searching and searching for the tree with the soft
spot that Roage had told him to find, but he couldn’t find it, and time was
passing quickly.

Could it be so small
that I missed it?
What if I’m going in an entirely
different direction than Kristina went?
These doubtful thoughts made him
wonder if it would have been better to have stuck with his original plan of
going back to the place where Kristina and he had camped out.

As he traveled farther
and farther in the opposite direction from which he had first intended to go,
he became more and more doubtful of what Roage had told him. Then the Warble
suddenly surged with heat again, and its light orange color changed to a dark
orange. It was giving the sure sign that time was running out. This just added
to his anxiety, and so he decided he would check fifty more sycamore trees, and
if he still hadn’t found the soft spot, he’d revert to his original plan of
going back to the campsite. At least he’d have a better chance of finding
Kristina by following her tracks.

The sycamore trees were
sparse―far apart and few in between. He counted the trees, thoroughly
checking each one, and when he got to the thirty-seventh one and there was
still no soft spot in its bark, he got so frustrated that he decided to not check
any more. He turned around to revert to his alternate plan, but just as he did
so, he heard noises coming from up above in a nearby tree. He shined the Warble
toward the noise, and in return, six large, glowing eyes glared down at him. It
was a family of snowy white owls—a father, a mother, and baby. The father owl
hooted loudly and then said, “We thank you for all you are doing, and our
thoughts are with you, Prince Werrien. God speed to you.” It was that little
note of appreciation that gave Werrien the fortitude to carry on, and so he
went on searching for the tree that Roage had told him to find.

 He came to the
forty-ninth tree and then finally, the fiftieth tree, and still there was no
sign of the soft spot. He stuck with his decision not to check anymore sycamores
trees after the fiftieth and turned southwest. However, a very strange thing
happened; the Warble heated up again, though not like it had the other times.
No, this time was like the very first time he had touched it, when it got so
scorching hot that he couldn’t hold on to it. He dropped it and shook his hand
from the burning pain. Then the Warble suddenly began to roll back in the
direction from which he had just come, rolling back up a slope and to the tree
just ahead of the fiftieth tree. It came to a dead stop in front of what would
have been the fifty-first sycamore tree.
What a curious thing. Could the
Warble be trying to tell me something? Does it have a mind of its own?
he
wondered. Then he ran the palm of his hand over the tree’s rough surface, the
same as he had with all the others. Lo and behold, he felt it—the soft spot. He
pushed in on it, and a chunk of the bark fell back into the tree. A bright
light shone out from the hole, causing him to squint. He peered into the hole
and saw the gold case; the one Roage had told him he would find.
That raven
really knows his stuff
.

He reached inside and
took the case out of the tree. Then he picked up the Warble, which had cooled
down significantly, and placed it inside the case. At that very moment, a swift
wind blew at him and stirred up the leaves on the ground. It swirled upward,
and when it was just above his head, he heard a deep voice say in a low
whisper,
“You must have faith.”

Werrien stood silent
for a moment as a memory flashed through his mind. It was again of his father,
King Warren, and a time when the king had crossed over a fallen tree straddling
the raging Indra River. When he had gotten to the other side, he held out his
hand and told Werrien to come, but Werrien was scared and hesitant. That is
when his father said those exact words:
“You must have faith, son.”
Werrien had crossed over the tree, but when he neared the end, he slipped and
began to fall. His father grabbed hold of him, and with his strong hands
brought his son to safety at the other side of the river.

With his eyes still
shut, Werrien tried to savor the moment, but the wind suddenly died and the
memory along with it. He opened his eyes and stared down at the Warble with its
vibrant, orange color swirling throughout it. Then he closed the lid of the
gold case, and at the same time that it clicked shut, thunder roared in the
sky, followed by a flash of lightning.

Now that the Warble was
safely in the case, a blanket of darkness enveloped Werrien. He was wet, cold,
and extremely hungry, but worst of all, he couldn’t see anything. It was a
totally helpless feeling, and he fought against doubt as well as fear, which
were trying to pry their way into his mind again. The only way he kept them out
was by saying the words, “I will have faith.” He repeated these words as he
leaned his back against the tree, weary and exhausted.

The dark forest was
very quiet except for the pitter-patter of the rain falling on its many tree
branches. The soothing sound calmed Werrien’s nerves and made his eyelids very
heavy. He began to nod off.
Just a few minutes of sleep will make me feel so
much better,
he thought. However, just as he began to drift off, he was
awakened by the sound of branches snapping. He opened his eyes to see a light
flickering through the trees, to the west of him. Then a few moments later, a
dark figure emerged from between the trees, carrying a lantern. Werrien
carefully slipped the gold case between his back and the tree. The mysterious
figure walked toward him, with the lantern creaking as it swung from side to
side. Even with the light from the lantern, Werrien couldn’t make out whether
it was a gnome, dwarf, human, or even a zelbock, for that matter. It passed by
the tree, seeming not to notice him, but he could see its smoke-like breath.
Then there was a strange silence, followed by a few more footsteps. The steps
stopped suddenly on the opposite side of the tree, and the mysterious figure
came to Werrien’s side of the tree. “Rumalock?” Werrien’s voice was full of surprise
as well as relief.

“Hello, Werrien! I am
so relieved that I found you. I have been commissioned to lead you to
Kristina,” Rumalock said.

“Was it Roage that sent
you?”

“Yes, it was. Do you
have the Warble?”

“Yes.”

“Then come with me. I
will take you to Kristina.” Rumalock began to walk away briskly.

Werrien followed as
Rumalock led him through the forest with his dimly lit lantern lighting the
way.

“Where are you taking
me?” Werrien asked.

“It’s best not to
discuss it now. Could be spies out here. Anyhow we’ll be where we need to be
very soon.” Rumalock’s mood seemed serious and his pace quickened.

Werrien kept quiet as
he followed Rumalock north through the dark and damp woods, always keeping a
sharp eye for any signs of the enemy. He had known Rumalock for most of his
life, and he trusted him, but the anticipation of not knowing where he was
being led or what the plans were was giving him an anxious feeling in his
stomach. To add to his anxiety, the gold case, tucked inside his shirt, was warming
up and cooling down, constantly reminding him of the task that lay ahead.

Rumalock changed his
course and headed west in the direction of the Indra River. When they arrived
at its bank, they boarded a raft. Werrien sat down on the raft and held the lantern;
its fragile flame flickering in the wind. He wondered where Rumalock was taking
him, but he dared not question him. The old dwarf was far too busy steering the
raft across the rough waters. One wrong move and they could topple over and be
swallowed by the raging river.

By the time they
reached the opposite shore, the rain had tapered off, and in its place came a
cool breeze, carrying with it the scent of smoke. Not too far into their walk,
they could hear the crackling and popping of wood burning, and soon after, they
heard hammering, along with voices conversing.

“It’s not much
farther,” Rumalock said. He climbed up a steep hillside and when he reached the
top, he turned around and held out his hand to Werrien. Werrien grabbed hold of
it, and as Rumalock pulled him up, his firm grip brought back the memory of his
father’s strong hand, gripping his and pulling him up the same hillside. Then
he remembered his father having a premonition of a place where dwarf, gnome,
animal, and human believers would gather together to prepare for a great battle
that would change the destiny of Bernovem.

At the top of the hill
they could see a clearing in the woods, and in the midst of it, a roaring
bonfire. Gathered around the fire were many gnomes as well as dwarfs, busily
making weapons. Two young girl gnomes, about Werrien’s age, one with brunette
hair and the other with blonde, sat on a fallen tree, sewing garments. When
they caught sight of Werrien walking toward the fire, the blonde whispered
something to the brunette, and they both giggled. They dropped what they were
doing and ran excitedly to him, each taking him by one of his hands.

“Prince Werrien, come
and sit and we will give you something to eat,” the brunette said.

Werrien was more than
happy to take her offer. Nearby was a large cauldron on top of some glowing
coals. The blonde gnome girl ladled a bowl of hot soup out of the cauldron and
handed it to Werrien. He took it with both hands and thanked her, and she
smiled at him bashfully, her round cheeks blushing in the light of the fire. He
was so hungry; he could have eaten the soup in a couple of gulps but he chose
not to being that it was so very hot. The brunette gnome girl handed him a
chunk of bread, which he found delicious. “I’ve just baked it,” she told him.
The last time he had tasted bread like that was when he was a little boy, and
the cook at the palace had baked it fresh. While he was eating, Looper flew up
behind him and landed on his shoulder.

“It’s about time you
showed up,” Looper joked.

Werrien nodded with a
full mouth. The gold case warmed up against his skin, bringing him once again
to the reality of his mission. “I need to find Kristina. Is she here?”

“Well, not exactly, but
I’ve come to bring you to her. Come on—follow me.” Looper said, and jumped off
his shoulder. He looped around a few times in the air and then headed into the
forest. Werrien followed him, feeling much better now that he had eaten.

The sound of the gnomes
and dwarfs working around the fire began to grow distant, and the sound of
raging water in river grew louder.

“Where are we going?”
Werrien asked.

Looper flew up to his
ear and whispered, “I’m not supposed to talk in these parts of the woods.
Rumalock’s orders.” Werrien understood and so he kept quiet.

After walking a long
while, they finally came to a cliff overlooking the Indra River. Werrien stood
at its edge and gazed down at the turbulent water. Looper stayed back a
distance, for fear of being swept away by the wind. The strong gusts of cool
wind blew a fine mist in Werrien’s face, and it reminded him of when Kristina
and he had jumped off the cliff similar to this one.
That girl is pretty
brave.
He realized then that he missed her.

“Come on, Werrien. We
need to keep moving.” Looper clung on to a tree branch so as not to be blown
away by the rough winds.

Werrien wiped the mist
from his face and turned to follow Looper. They traveled on in silence until
Looper finally flew to the ground.      He began picking up the leaves and
moving them from where he stood.

Werrien looked
curiously at him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Could you help me move
the leaves and dirt from this spot?” Looper’s voice strained.

Werrien got down on his
hands and knees and began helping Looper. As he was digging, his finger hit something
sharp. “Ouch!” he said, lifting his hand and shaking it. He had gotten a wood
sliver under his nail.

“Yes! It is the right
place. I was so nervous that I might not be able to find it again,” Looper
said, excitedly.

“Glad I could be of
help.” Werrien pulled the long sliver from underneath his nail. The sliver had
come from a hidden door in the ground, with a round, iron ring attached to it.

“Pull on the ring to
lift up the door. It’s very heavy, but if you can get it up about two inches, I
can slip through the crack.”

Werrien bent over and
grabbed the ring. He began to pull hard on it, and he managed to lift the door
about an inch. But then he dropped it. “This thing weighs a ton. I don’t think
I can lift it more than an inch, even if I wanted to.”

Just after he spoke,
Roage flew toward them and landed on a nearby tree branch. “May I be of some
assistance to you?” he asked Werrien.

“I’d like that, Roage,
but I don’t think you’ll be able to lift it, either.”

“Look behind this tree
I’m in. At its base there is a rope buried under the leaves.”

Werrien did so and
found the rope.