Chapter 7: Time Storm

Hillary, Windslow and the three wizards huddled under the table inside Larkstone’s cottage. Around them the air shimmered and flashed pale blue and pastel pink.  Everything looked out of focus, as if they watched through a wrinkled sheet of plastic cellophane that constantly changed colors. Hillary could only see a vague image of the cottage wall. The doorway and windows tilted and contorted into odd shapes.  A wind moaned and squealed. The table rattled.  The clock’s loud regular tick, tick, tick, cut through the sounds of the strange storm as if the wailing and screeching weren’t there.

“What’s happening?” Hillary yelled.

“The Time Mist is changing everything,” Haggerwolf said, his voice loud.  “Watch.”  The elder wizard pulled the corner of his robe up to his mouth. Using his teeth, he ripped off a small piece and set the frayed fabric on the floor in front of his knees.  He gave the cloth a nudge with his wand, sliding it to the shimmering border of time mist just past the edges of the table legs.

The cloth slowly unwove, turning into a pile of yarn with individual strands wriggling like a jumble of fuzzy worms.  Each one puffed and merged with the others. The colors faded and the wool changed again, forming a gray-white tangle of fleece. 

“It’s turning back to what it was!” Hillary said, her eyes wide as she looked at her brother.

The wool quivered, shrank into a small wad, and disappeared with a poof.

Lightning flashed.  Thunder boomed.  The clock chimed once. The room fell silent.

“The storm quit,” Windslow said.  He put his hand on Fernbark’s shoulder and leaned forward. “At least I think it has.  What happened to your cabin?”

“It’s here,” Fernbark answered. “We better take a look around. It should be safe now.”

Hillary scooted a bit forward, staying on her hands and knees as she looked out from under the table.  Nothing was left of the cabin except the table and clock on top of it. Forest surrounded them.

Haggerwolf crawled out from under the shelter. He stood and stroked his beard as he spoke. “Like Fernbark said.  It’s still here.  The trouble is, we’re not.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“What he means, my dear,” Larkstone answered as he got up, “is that my cabin is where it has always been, but time has shifted.  We’re here at a time when the cabin wasn’t.  We don’t know if it’s the future or the past.”

“Cool,” Windslow said as Fernbark helped him up.  “You mean we time traveled?  Wow, look at those trees!”

Ten foot wide trunks blocked the view in every direction. The flute-wood trees towered high above them.  A slight breeze gently nudged the oblong leaves and swayed the three foot long, brown seed pods that gave the trees their name.

“We didn’t really time travel,” Fernbark said.  “Time just changed. It made things older or younger. And not everywhere; like a rain storm that drenches some spots, barely touches other places, and leaves isolated dry patches.”

“This is incredible,” Hillary said and began walking in the direction of the lake.  “I guess we better not touch anything or we’ll mess up the future or the past, like in science fiction books.”

Fernbark shook his head and walked after Hillary.  “It doesn’t work like that.  That’s the problem that Gristle-tooth had.  He thought he could move around in time and change things. All he did was change time for the things he touched. Most often, time just rewinds or sort of snaps back. It’s like waving a magic wand to make a temporary change, but on a bigger scale.”

“You’re confusing me,” Windslow said.  “I don’t like all that Einstein stuff. Hey! Wait up!”

Larkstone offered his arm to Windslow, and together they walked after the others.

Weaving through the trees wasn’t difficult.  The path hadn’t changed much.  Raspberry bushes still gave off a sweet scent, but there were more flowers in patches where the flute-wood trees let sun reach the ground. Lake Shimmer Dawn sparkled silver like before, but fist sized pebbles now formed the beach that had been fine white sand hours earlier.

“Where are we going?” Windslow asked Larkstone as the wizard kicked a flute-bean pod out of the way. “What should we do first?”

“I’m just following them.” Larkstone shrugged.  “I’m not sure what we should do next.  Maybe there’s nothing we can do.”

Hillary put her hands on her hips as she stood at the water’s edge and looked around.  “If this is what you were worried about, I don’t see a problem. Your cabin is gone. The trees are bigger and you’ve got a pumpkin patch that way and flowers over there.  It’s really pretty nice. Don’t we just need to wait for time to rewind?”

Haggerwolf picked up a smooth piece of gray driftwood and held it out in one hand. In his other hand he held his wand.  He used it to tap the driftwood.  In an eye-blink, the wood split and reshaped into a set of crutches like the ones Windslow had used in his last visit to Gabendoor. “It might look nice around here, and time will snap back eventually,” Haggerwolf said. He handed the crutches to Windslow.  “The problem is how long it takes.  There are families out there where the father is a baby now and the baby is old and wrinkled.  The child still needs someone to feed it and the father won’t be capable of helping.  People will start dying.  Animals will start dying. Every person touched by the storm is as good as dead unless we can seal Gristle-tooth’s spirit away again.”

“How are we going to do that?” Windslow asked as he tested the crutches.

“We’ll have to go to Dreadmoor.  At least that’s what I think we should do,” Haggerwolf said. “I’m not sure about anything.”

Hillary chewed on her lip and nodded. Suddenly her face brightened. “Let’s check the book!” Without waiting, she took the magic book bag from her brother.  The others circled around her as she opened the Book of Broken Promises and flipped through its pages.

“Here,” she said and pointed at the new words. “I thought so.”

#

“You released Gristle-tooth, you idiot! You never should have fooled with that pot.”

“Shut up,” Bitterbrun yelled back at his ex-master. “Or I’ll gag you again!”

Fistlock sat with his knees against his chest in a corner of Bitterbrun’s tree-home hideaway, his hands and feet bound with stout manila rope.  He let out a long sigh.  “Look you…” Fistlock took another breath and spoke softer. “Bitterbrun, my faithful employee and friend, if you let me free, I’ll help you fix things. You did something very bad.”

“Me do something bad?” Bitterbrun hollered.  He turned his worktable back upright and moved two crates away from the stairs leading to an upper level. Both his struggle with Fistlock and Army’s release of magic had turned his home into shambles.

“Ha!” Bitterbrun continued. “The whole time I worked for you, I helped you turn people into goats, goats into mice, mice into toads and just about everything else into your shadow creatures!” He turned away from Fistlock and sifted through a pile of shelf boards, crocks, jars and books that lay in a jumble along the wall. “Where are you sweetie? Come to daddy,” he called.

“I think some of the fuzz has come off your coconut, Bitterbrun,” Fistlock said, his eyes pinched in a frown.  “I’m not your sweetie. I never will be. Friends, maybe but…” His words trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders.

Bitterbrun ignored Fistlock’s comments.  “I could have helped you do other things,” he said as he pulled old towels out of a wicker basket, carefully shaking each one.  “Together we could have done things like… like… like lots of stuff.  I’m smart, you know. A lot smarter than you.” He put the towels back into the basket and scratched his head. “Where are you?”

“Bitterbrun, my fine intelligent friend, I’m right here.  See? It’s me, your old pal Fistlock. There’s something important we need to discuss. Do you know who Gristle-tooth is?  Do you know what will happen to you if he comes looking for me?  If you were smart, you’d let me go so I can run away from here to keep you safe.”

“Where are you?” Bitterbrun said, his fists jammed against his hips as he looked around the small room one last time. Giving up his search, he pulled a chair up close to Fistlock and sat down. “How does it feel to be helpless?  Oh, I forgot to tell you.  Now I’m the master and you’re my servant. Well, that is, if you cooperate.  If you don’t, I’ll let my Army deal with you.”

“What?  You have an army?” Fistlock said and grinned. “So where is this army of yours?  I didn’t see any men when I followed you.  If you think you can control my troops, then bring them here. Send in one of my captains.  I’d like to hear what he says about all this.”

“Not that army,” Bitterbrun said. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to Fistlock.  “Your men all ran off; at least the ones who survived when Crystal Mountain exploded. It’s gone.  Nobody left.  I was enjoying being alone; just me and my little Army.  Now you had to show up.  Oh, well.  I decided that I’m going to rule Gabendoor. You can help me.  Ruling a whole world is a lot of work, I would guess.”

“The fuzz really has rubbed off your coconut.  You’re crazy,” Fistlock said. “Didn’t you hear what I said about Gristle-tooth?”

“Oh, I heard you,” Bitterbrun said. He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “Who is Gristle-tooth? Maybe I could use two assistants.”

“He’s a creature who will split you open before you can blink. He’s a spirit; a ghost.  He’s pure evil and you set him free.  Didn’t you know what that clay pot was? Why do you think I had it locked away?”

“I think it held some powerful magic. I think you didn’t know how to use it.  And, I think you’re in a big fix now. Am I right?  I know I am,” Bitterbrun said and smiled. “You don’t have a somber wood wand.  If you did, you still don’t have your pool of magic anymore to charge it up with like before.  You’d have to soak up magic just a little bit at a time. You don’t have a wand and you don’t have any magic. All you have is me.”

“My demented friend, Gristle-tooth will be coming after me.  He seeks out wizards and magic. You’re not a wizard. I am. He’ll be coming after me. He’ll kill you in the process. If you want to rule Gabendoor, you can have it. But you need to be alive to do it.”  Fistlock paused and rolled his eyes.  “You’re so smart to figure out that letting me go will keep you out of danger. How did you ever come up with such a brilliant plan?”

“I can figure out lots of things.  I figured out the clay ball, but you ruined it.  Maybe my Army sucked in whatever was inside.”

“An army of a thousand men couldn’t grab what you set free.  Besides, there was nothing inside that ball. It was its twin that--”  Fistlock paused again and took a breath to calm himself.  “I give up trying to trick you. You were brilliant to figure it out, my fine master.  How clever of you to think of using me to help with the rest of the process.”

“The rest of what process?”

“The rest of the process for the ah… for the magic clay ball of Dreadmoor.  I underestimated your brilliance. What a great plan.”

“My plan?”

“Yes, of course,” Fistlock said and rolled his eyes again.  “Your plan is incredibly smart. You didn’t want to release the magic here, so you used the mirrors to send the magic to Dreadmoor where it would be safe.”

“Oh, that’s what I did?  Yes. Yes, that’s just what I planned,” Bitterbrun said and smiled.

“But please,” Fistlock said and held his bound fists up in front of his face.  “Please, master, don’t send me there while you stay safe in your home… ah… in your… your tree castle.” He peeked around his fists and looked at Bitterbrun.  “Don’t send me alone.”

“Of course I won’t,” Bitterbrun said and stood.  He hooked his thumbs behind his belt and began pacing back and forth in front of the table.  “I’m not like you,” he said as he looked over his shoulder at Fistlock.

Fistlock sighed and shook his head.

“We’ll go together; just as soon as I find Army.  Now where are you my little pet?”

Fistlock scrunched his eyes and tilted his head as he watched Bitterbrun move a pile of crates stacked in a corner.

“There you are!” Bitterbrun said.

Fistlock could only see the backside of his former assistant as Bitterbrun bent over.  When Bitterbrun stood and turned around, Fistlock drew in a sharp breath. “An Armygello,” he said softly and unconsciously let his lips part and jaw drop. Fistlock closed his eyes and leaned his head back until it hit the wall with a thump. “As if things weren’t dangerous enough already,” he muttered.

#

Jimmy kept his eyes closed as the world around him twisted and lurched, making him a bit dizzy.  He held fast to the clock’s pendulum and his head began to throb from the loud chiming. When everything but his stomach settled, he was still afraid to look.  This was the worst dream he had ever had and he wanted it to end.  He thought that maybe if he kept his eyes closed and breathed slow to relax himself, he might fall into a normal sleep, or at least move on to a different dream.

“It pretty hard-a sleep here,” a child-like voice said.

Jimmy kept taking long regular breaths and ignored the voice in his dream, hoping it would go away.

“All-a Grampy clocks take you to Aghasta place. Why you wan-a go there?  She very bad lady. She do whoo-doo-voodoo stuff.  She like-a scritch head thoughts.  Peeky-boo, earth boy. Open eyes.”

Jimmy jerked backward when a tiny finger touched one of his eye lids. He stumbled, loosing his balance until he bumped against the back of the clock and slid down to a squatting position. He looked up.

“Hi,” the girl said.  She leaned over him, her hands resting on her knees.  “I Molly Folly Sallyforth. What your name?”

Jimmy blinked and looked at the girl. She stared at him with big, black, shiny, gerbil-like eyes.  She wore a plain brown dress that draped over her knees, but not far enough to hide the blue, big polka dot socks that tucked into soft brown boots.

“I’m, um… I’m Jimmy,” he said.  “Where am I?” he asked softly and looked around.

He, Molly and the Grandfather clock sat in the center of a large room with a very high ceiling.  The walls weren’t quite square, giving the room more of a diamond shape, with two pinched corners and two wide corners.  A hazy mist hovered several feet off of the floor, walls, and ceiling.  Jimmy couldn’t feel any wind, yet patches of fog moved in lazy swirls.  The fog moved to reveal some things as it covered others. 

The walls gave Jimmy a dizzy feeling when he looked at them.  Fog moved along one of the walls, uncovering chairs and a table, complete with plates, cups, saucers and a lit candlestick. They weren’t along the wall, they were on it. The flame stuck straight out instead of up.  For a moment, Jimmy felt like the table was on the floor and he was sitting on the wall.

Each of the other walls had their own oddities. One looked upside down with a doorframe that started at the ceiling. Two windows held curtains that draped upward. Another wall held a staircase tilted sideways with steps that disappeared into the fog.

“I am dreaming, aren’t I?” Jimmy asked as he kept looking around.

“Nope,” Molly said and straightened up.  “We stuck in this place. Stuck here in our heads,” she said and touched a finger to the edge of her black, bristly hair, which stuck out in a neatly trimmed circle just above her ears. “Still here, all-a same. It belong to Aghasta. That kinda fun up there,” the small girl said and pointed.  “I think you much cuter when your mouth not open.”

Jimmy hadn’t realized that he was staring so intently. He glanced at Molly, closed his mouth and looked up to where she pointed. High above him, the mist revealed bushes, grass, tiny purple flowers, and two stubby trees, all growing downward.

“Aghasta call it Abba-dread. I here cause Fistlock shadow beastie poison me on earth.  Why you here?”

“I don’t know.  It’s because…”

“It because you mess up a dream-slip,” Molly said and grabbed Jimmy’s wrist. She looked at the broken piece of rubber band he had tied back together “You pretty stupid boy to goof up dream-slip.  Now you in biggie trouble, just like me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimmy said and pulled his hand away. He scowled at the girl but she just smiled at him and cocked her head to one side.

“You almost as cute as Windso. He my biggest boy friend. You might be good boyfriend for Hillre. She my sister now.”

“Windslow and Hillary Summerfield?” Jimmy said and leaned forward. “You know them?” Jimmy pulled away when the girl grabbed one of his ears and gave it a pinch.

“I think you ears get messed up too.  If they my friends then I guess I know them… dah.”  She crossed her eyes and made a silly face. “That teenage slang.  You say ‘dah’ when it a dopy thing.”

“I know what it means,” Jimmy said. He reached for the pendulum to pull himself up.  Molly knocked his hand away.  “Hey!” he yelled.

“That not good thing a-touch. It make Grampy clock take you closer to Aghasta. I think she try to get you from that-a way next,” she said and pointed up.  “She not catch me.  I too fast for her.”

Jimmy looked back at the ceiling.  While he watched, the fog shrouding it flickered from gray to pastel pink and back to gray again.

“Oh, oh,” Molly said and grabbed his hand.  “Time-a get out-a this place.”

Jimmy kept looking up while Molly tugged at his hand. Above him the trees and plants disappeared.  A tiny green pool with marsh plants took their place.

When he was standing, Molly pushed him aside and stood on her toes to reach the hands on the Grandfather clock. She reset them to read 12:00.

“That one ready,” she said and ran to the wall with the sideways furniture.

Jimmy watched her fan her hands, making the fog swirl around the tabletop.

“There one,” she said.  Molly reached into the fog and fished around like she was trying to find something at the bottom of a pond.  She pulled out a rectangular brass clock the size of a thick book. After setting its hands to 2:11, she tucked the clock under her arm and dashed back to Jimmy. “Time-a hang on,” she said and took his hand again.

Jimmy did as she said, and like her, looked up at the fog.  Its flickering increased, like miniature storm clouds lit up by pink lightning as it rapidly grew and stretched downward.