Chapter 6: Time Mist

“It changes when we make promises,” Hillary said.  She flipped the book’s pages back to the writing that had appeared on earth.

Haggerwolf read the first line.

Promises held by clay begin to break.
Beware.
For in their breaking,
Vows within foreshadow death.

“That must be about Gristle-tooth,” he said.  “His spirit is inside a bottle.  The bottle is held shut by a clay sphere that ancient wizards crafted.  They didn’t use direct spells. Somehow they used this book. This line tells us what we already know. Gristle-tooth is breaking free. When he does, there’ll be trouble. Hm…, let’s see.”

Potters they may be;
Son of Summer Storm and Daughter of Mountain Breeze.
They bring hope to shape the clay.

“The wind is low in summer storms. That’s you, Windslow.  And a mountain breeze is an airy hill; or Hillary. You two are the key again.  You’re the Children of the wind.  The book chose you two, so we think you’re the only hope we have to stop Gristle-tooth.”

Larkstone pointed to the last lines and read.

Will the Children of the Wind know which promises to break and which to keep?
The magic of the book will wait and see.

“We know the book is linked to promises.  I’d say the key is figuring out just how. Obviously it has to do with breaking some and keeping others.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple,” Hillary said. She closed the book and handed it to her brother.  “The book reacted to my promise to never have anything to do with my father.”

“And to my promise to save Jimmy and Molly,” Windslow added. “Everything is related somehow. Do you three have any ideas about Gristle-tooth and how he fits into this promise stuff?”

“I’ll tell you about him on the way to the cottage,” Haggerwolf said.  He turned and headed for the path leading to Larkstone’s thatched roof home.

“In the early days of Gabendoor,” Haggerwolf began, “no single person ruled over the many lands.  The people of each village made their own decisions and set their own rules. The senior wizards acted more like parents than judges to settle the few disputes that ever arose. As the years passed, travel and trade between villages grew, and so did the problems. It was then that the wisest and oldest wizard of all created the first Book of Promises.  That wizard’s name was Quibbless Sallyforth, Riddle-Quip Sally Forth’s great grandfather.”

“I should have guessed that Molly’s family was involved somehow,” Hillary said.  She held back a branch for her brother and Larkstone.  Windslow’s walking was still shaky. They all moved slowly and took turns helping him along the path. “I still don’t understand what promises have to do with things,” she said.

“The book was a great help at first,” Fernbark answered. “The Wizards Council used it when they settled disputes.  Each side in the argument made a promise, bound by the magic of the book.  As years passed, the book grew, and the sealed promises began creating problems.”

“How?” Windslow asked as Fernbark helped him through the doorway and to a chair near the fireplace.

“Well, you see,” Fernbark said.  “Suppose you burnt down my cottage and promised never to start a fire again.  Then let’s say you found me freezing in the snow and promised to save me.  To save me you would need to build a fire. You’d have to break one promise in order to keep the other.”

“That’s dumb,” Hillary said and sat down at the table.  “He wouldn’t really be breaking a promise. I mean…”

Haggerwolf sat next to her.  Scratching his head as he thought, he moved the tin water pitcher to the side and pulled off a piece of the cold loaf of bread.  Before putting it in his mouth, he answered Hillary’s question.  “Well, if he had sealed the first oath with the book of promises, he would be breaking a promise.  The two promises would start brewing together in the book.”

“What do you mean?” Windslow asked.

“You’d have a dilemma.  The magic in the book gets confused and acts in unpredictable ways.  You’d have to decide which promise to break.  Break the wrong one and the magic connects with the time-mist and collects there. Break the right one and the magic fades away.”

“Wait a minute,” Hillary said. She stood and started pacing in front of the fire.  “If Jimmy is in the time-mist, then rescuing him might not be something separate from all this. I bet that’s why the book reacted when Windslow promised to save him and Molly. All of this is linked together.”

“Yeah, and the words that showed up,” Windslow said. He stood and used the chair-back to help steady himself. “They say that we need to figure out which promises to keep and break.  But I still don’t understand where Gristle-tooth fits in.”

“He tried to sort out the book’s promises,” Larkstone answered. “He and Quibbless Sallyforth argued over how to stop the havoc caused by magic leaking into the time-mist.  They were friends and promised to always help each other.  Gristle-tooth used time and the leaking magic to try and change things.”

“Like what?” Hillary asked.

“Gristle-tooth tried to manipulate time. In Fernbark’s example, Gristle-tooth might have manipulated time so that Fernbark’s cabin never did burn, but it didn’t really change the promise. This confused the book even more.  He and Quibbless had an argument about fixing the book.  There was an accident and Quibbless died.  Gristle-tooth fooled with time to try and undo things, and the magic consumed him.”

“Yep,” Fernbark said.  “He began turning transparent.  His shape changed.  One minute he looked like a man made of clear water. The next minute the water turned to raindrops, and then to a fine foggy mist.  The mist lost its man shape and flowed around the room like a tendril of smoke.  After that, he left a trail of moisture wherever he went.”

“That doesn’t sound very threatening,” Hillary said. She took a mug from a set of three that sat next to the bread.  She hesitated as she poured water into it from the tin pitcher.

“At first, it wasn’t.” Haggerwolf said.  “But it was bothersome.  For example he’d start talking to you from a mug of water.  Just like the one you’re holding.”

Hillary spit out the water she had just sipped.

“Oh, no!” Windslow said and laughed. “You just drank Gristle-tooth!”

“It’s not funny!” Hillary scowled at her brother before wiping her sleeve across her mouth.  “Do you have a towel, Larkstone? I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll wipe it up.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear.”  Haggerwolf pulled a blue hanky from inside his vest and wiped up the small damp spot on the table. “Actually, some people did drink him. Their eyes glazed over and they stared while Gristle-tooth oozed out of as beads of sweat across their foreheads, or as drops of water from their fingertips.  It was never pretty.”

“Just wet,” Larkstone said. He blushed when the other two wizards looked at him.  “Well, it was.”

Haggerwolf shook his head and continued. “The people he oozed out from lost their minds, so to speak.  They didn’t really lose them. Their minds went to the time-mist.  In a day or two, the people died.”

Hillary looked at the cup before setting it down.

“Then he got vicious,” Fernbark said.  He poured a cup of water and offered it to Windslow.  Windslow shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.

“That’s right,” Haggerwolf said. “We think Gristle-tooth went crazy from the mucked up magic.  He turned to murder. In his fog-mist form, a tendril would stretch out and sweep down the front of his victim.”

“It was an ugly sight,” Fernbark said. He drank the cup of water that he had offered to Windslow.  “The victim’s chest would be covered in slashes, like they’d been clawed. You’d hear the sound of teeth gnashing with grating sounds that would chill your bones. Then the mist would surround the person.  In a few seconds, they shriveled up.  In the time it took to blink your eyes, nothing was left but a pile of bones.”

“Wet bones,” Larkstone added.

#

The clock’s sound changed when Jimmy grabbed the pendulum. So did his surroundings. He seemed to be in a cave.  He tried to ignore the incessant loud ticking as he breathed slowly and deliberately, trying to steady his nerves.

Faint light spread from three small rectangular mirrors that hovered just off the natural stone floor. The light stayed close to the clay sphere, too timid to venture far, refusing to creep into the corners of the room.  Jimmy leaned away from the clock, but kept his hand against its polished wood side as he looked behind it.

Four quarried walls marked his new boundaries. The mist was gone but the dampness remained and the air had the musty smell of old wet newspapers. Cobwebs draped like rotten lace from whatever formed the ceiling, lost in the darkness up above.  Jimmy stepped back against the clock when he heard skittering noises just beyond the edges of light.

Movement at the corner of his vision caught his attention. By the time he turned his head, whatever had moved was gone, or simply out of sight in the shadows.  The ticking was the only sound bold enough to reach into the silence.

When Jimmy looked at the clock face, the ticking stopped. The time read 2:02.  He was certain that an hour hadn’t passed.

“Wake up!  I want to wake up!” he shouted.

Scraping sounds startled him.  Jimmy turned and took a step back. The quick movements made him stumble and he reached out, grabbing at the clock to keep from falling. His fingers closed around the pendulum.  When it moved, the clock chimed.

GONG!

The room swirled. The darkness rushed in.  Jimmy closed his eyes.

#

Bitterbrun rushed down the steps inside his tree trunk hideaway. Army’s short legs worked fast to keep up.  When Bitterbrun reached his experiment he stopped, put his hands against the table top and leaned close to the three mirrors. “It’s working,” he said to his armored pet.

In the center of the table, roots of the shatterbud thistle gripped the clay ball.  Bitterbrun could clearly see the cracks forming in the sphere.  The plant’s stem stretched upward, reaching for the sunlight that reflected down from Bitterbrun’s mirror mechanism. A small bud, the size of a grape, dangled just below one of the heart shaped leaves.

“I need you to give it just one tiny boost,” he said to his pet, as he lifted Army onto the table.

“What was that?” Bitterbrun turned his head and held his breath. Army ignored him and moved closer to the plant.

Bitterbrun heard a second sound and looked again. It sounded much like the first. He thought it might be a step creaking, but decided it was just the wind rubbing tree limbs together. He patted his cheeks and puffed a couple of breaths in and out.  “I think I’m a bit nervous, Army.  All right, sweetie. Give the roots your smallest breath of magic.  Do it for daddy.”

Army took in a small gulp of air. Bitterbrun took in a large gulp and spun around when he heard a scream behind him.

“NO!  Don’t!” Fistlock yelled and leapt down the last two steps.

Bitterbrun ducked when Fistlock swung a two foot section of broken branch at him.  Startled, Army blew hard, opened her wings and flew away from the struggling men.   She clunked into the wall, tumbled to the floor and scrambled behind a pile of wooden packing crates.

“You idiot! You don’t know what your doing!” Fistlock yelled as he wrestled with Bitterbrun.

“I’m…

Not…

Your…

Servant…

Anymore!” Bitterbrun said, struggling to get his words out as he wriggled in vain. Fistlock had managed to get behind him. The skinny wizard’s arms wouldn’t fit all the way around Bitterbrun’s chest, but Fistlock was strong, and the squeezing made it hard to breathe. In desperation, Bitterbrun pushed backward, using his weight to crush Fistlock against the wall.

The crash dislodged a shelf that supported a heavy earthenware crock.  The crock shattered on the floor.  Its contents of powdered lizard livers filled the air with dull grey, pungent smelling dust.  Bitterbrun’s violent sneeze broke Fistlock’s grip.  Fistlock’s sneeze spattered sticky moist globs across the back of Bitterbrun’s neck. Army’s sneeze lit up the laboratory. Her release of magic, with no spell to direct it, crackled with blue sparks off edges of the table and along the top seams of canvas bags stacked in a corner.  Pots lit up when random bits of magic played tag around their lips.

Bitterbrun’s belt buckle turned blue and fell away from the leather, landing with a clunk at his feet. The pink fur on Fistlock’s bunny slippers fluffed out from the static and glowed blue at the tips.  While Bitterbrun grabbed at his pants to keep them from falling, and Fistlock danced on one bare foot, trying to yank off his other slipper, Army backed deeper under a crate. She was the only one who saw the shatterbud roots rip open the clay sphere.

Outside, thunder rumbled.

#

Everyone jumped when the first thunder peal sounded. Fernbark dropped his cup and it clattered across the wood floor. “Just a storm brewing, I hope,” he said and stooped to grab the mug.

Hillary winced at the sound of Haggerwolf’s chair scraping across the floor.  She shoved her own chair back and followed the senior wizard to the window.

With shaky steps, Windslow moved only as far as the table before another peal of thunder shook the cabin.  Larkstone grabbed one of Windslow’s arms. Fernbark took the other. 

“I’m all right!” Windslow told them and pulled his arms away. “I can walk by myself.”

The two wizards stayed close behind Windslow, just in case he needed them as he joined Haggerwolf and Hillary.

Haggerwolf grabbed at the blue checkered curtains, pulling them apart. He and Hillary were the first to see the approaching storm descend on Lake Shimmerdawn. In seconds, all five heads crowded together at the smudged glass and watched.

Dark clouds spanned the horizon. Dirty grey at the top and dark blue at their bottoms, they rolled and boiled closer to the water.  Wind whipped at the lake, changing the color of Shimmerdawn from silver to dark green. Trees along the path bent over, their upper branches nearly touching the ground. Bent almost to breaking, the branches sprang upward at each lull and waved in the air until another gust pushed them back down.  Leaves and bits of stick clattered against the window glass. Some of the leaves stuck, either by force of the wind or from the mist that filled the air.

Streaks of cloud turned turquoise and flickered pink as orange bolts of lightning sprang from the ground and forked along the bottom edges of the cloud. Like the tongue of some invisible snake licking the underbelly of its prey, the strange lightning ended each flash with a thunderous boom.

“I’ve never seen a thunderstorm colored like this,” Hillary said, her voice loud to be heard above the wind.

“It’s not a thunderstorm,” Haggerwolf said.  “Larkstone, have you got a mist-clock in your closet?  If you do, you better get it now!”

Larkstone backed away to the center of the cabin.  With a snap of his fingers, his magic closet appeared. The shiny metal zipper formed and stretched until it was two feet long, hovering in front of its owner. With a quick pull, Larkstone opened it and reached inside. “Got it!” He called.  He snapped his fingers. With a zip and a poof, the closet disappeared.

“If it’s not a thunderstorm, what is it?” Hillary asked as she turned to watch Larkstone.

“He’s breaking free.” Haggerwolf said.  “We knew this was coming. We thought we had more time.”

“Who?” Windslow asked.  “And answer Hillary’s question!”

“Everybody get back by Larkstone,” Haggerwolf said. He used his hands to urge both Hillary and Windslow away from the window. “Fernbark, shove the table against the hearth.  We’ll use it for cover.  Larkstone, get that clock set.”

“Tell us what’s going on!” Hillary demanded.  She moved to the table with the others and grabbed Windslow’s arm to steady him as he bent down on hands and knees.

“Gristle-Tooth is breaking free. The time mist helped keep him sealed away.  In a minute he’ll be out and the storm will end. It’s a time rift. You can tell by the colors of the clouds and lightning.”

“I can’t remember what the time setting should be,” Larkstone yelled.

“Give it to me. I’ll do it,” Haggerwolf said as Larkstone ducked under the table with the others.

Outside the storm rattled the cottage door.  Tiny sparks flew from ashes in the fireplace and puffs of damp smelling smoke filled the air. Thunder shook the roof. 

Haggerwolf took the round brass clock. After carefully opening the glass face, he set the time to 5:41.

“I remember now!” Larkstone yelled. “That’s not right. Switch it quick!”

Haggerwolf nodded. With shaking hands, he reset the time to 5:14 and quickly put the clock on the table over their heads.