Those who love you will suffer.
Why does that sound familiar? Hunting through his memories, Wendell felt desperate. Why did it say that to me?
Watching silently as Kyliene’s body was carried away, he was not bound by time. A juxtaposition of a tormented mind and body. Frozen. Come on, Wendell, remember…remember blast you!
A demon had brought a dead body to life, It looked right at me…and knew me!
That look. What does it mean? Those who love you will suffer. The words preyed on his mind. Is Kyliene’s death my fault?
Looking around, everyone seemed to have a purpose. Except him.
This is not your fight. A haunting whisper on the cold breeze seized his chest. Grasping at it, understanding was just on the edge of his mind.
Flinching as an elder moved in his peripheral vision. Shadows. It was a shadow…on the river bank. His pulse hesitated, his mind once more slinking into fog.
Wendell felt the shove from behind, falling to his hands and knees. I was dead. That voice… Go home. Terror ripped from his gut erupted through his lips, “Ughaaaah!” as a muffled cry.
Once again making his senses shrink, Wendell remembered the foul, sticky breath caressing his neck, laughing in cruel mockery:
THIS ISN’T YOUR FIGHT, BOY.
WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
GO HOME…OR YOU AND THOSE
WHO LOVE YOU WILL SUFFER.
Somehow, Wendell was painfully certain at that moment that somewhere between life and death the Lord of Darkness had found him.
And he was making good on his threat. Kyliene was dead.
Wrapped in the white cloth, Kyliene’s body was so small, delicate. Reverently the people bowed their heads as Caleb guided his grandmother at the head of the procession. Wendell wanted to follow, run to Nana and ask her forgiveness for not doing something…anything. But guilt held him rooted in place. Goodbye, Kyliene. I’m so sorry.
The crowd was dispersing, the elders gathered in small groups and began walking to the bridge. Elder Tiell was being carried on a wood plank by an animated plant, gliding across the ground like swirling green smoke and being attended to by a slender, female elder. Probably Elder Jiin. Shea remained, standing next to the Prime Gate, waiting. In the midst of all these people, the cool night breeze blew through his tunic, Wendell was alone.
He glanced over to where he witnessed the vines pierce the ground to bind the Vallen, yet nothing remained. There was not a hole in the grass, nor a single trace of the creature. The enemy had simply ceased to exist.
Was it looking for me? At that moment, Wendell was overwhelmed by relief that the demon could not relay its secrets.
Gripping Wendell firmly by the shoulder, the High Elder whispered, “Do not dwell on this, Wendell, as hard as it is. Better to remember the blessings enjoyed.”
Is that all? Wendell was shocked. It must have shown on his face.
The High Elder’s hands disappeared into his sleeves and he smiled thoughtfully, eyes moist. “He who committed the crime has paid the ultimate price. I take comfort in knowing that Kyliene’s soul lives on.
“But there is nothing that will take the pain away. Not for me…and not for you. Kyliene touched our hearts in her sweet way and she owns that part of our hearts. A part that is now gone. She cannot be replaced, Wendell.”
Standing tall, the High Elder waited until Wendell stood and looked him directly in the eyes. “We will have good days and bad days…but we will never get better. We will simply learn to live with the pain of loss.”
Placing a warm hand on Wendell’s shoulder, the High Elder said softly, “It is time to meet with the Council.”
Wendell wrapped his arms around his lean frame and numbly placed one foot in front of another, casting his eyes on the path ahead of him, shutting out the world. He glanced at the elders ahead of him—strangers quietly conversing as they walked through the darkness. Probably about me, he thought, hearing the swishing robes and catching the curious expressions with the occasional quick glance back to him. He didn’t bother acknowledging them, he just averted his stare.
Is Kyliene’s death my fault? His mind couldn’t let go of the image of her lying lifeless on the ground or that knowing look from the Vallen. This is not my fight? But it killed my friend.
Shea bowed to the High Elder, cutting off their path. The look on his face was grave, demanding the High Elders attention. “Father, it is urgent that we speak.” Falling into a sluggish rhythm, Wendell moved around him, without saying a word, without looking up and continued to shuffle up the bridge while the High Elder held back.
What was I supposed to do? The question kept coming to his mind. He could talk himself out of any responsibility—he was just a kid. A stranger. But, the Ithäri—a hero—to save all life the High Elder had said. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? screamed over and over in his head.
I wonder what they’ll do with me? Is it too late for me to go home? Will more Iskäri die if I leave? or will they suffer if I stay? The questions pricked his mind as a painful sting, swelling the longer they went unanswered.
Wendell didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the intensity of the whispers behind him disturbed the cocoon around his thoughts. “Father, what have you done?” Please, wait until I’m farther away. I can still hear you.
He quickened his pace to get away from the escalating tension, but Wendell couldn’t block out all the pleading whispers of the young elder, “…reason for our traditions…no connection to this people…out of order…what will we do?”
Is he talking about me? Wendell listened for the High Elder’s response but he said very little. “We will resolve this in council,” is all.
He found Dax and Chuck alone on the terrace. The breeze had a chilly bite due to the waterfalls and it swirled indecisively through the terrace giving the wizard’s long stringy beard a life of its own. The old wizard was engaged in an animated discussion with a hanging plant while casually leaning against the balustrade. He puffed on a willowy pipe as Dax aggressively worked on a cigar. The elders had disappeared.
Confused, Wendell wavered, unsure of what he should do or where he should go.
Chuck politely tipped the brim of his hat, “You look a bit lost, son.”
Jerking his head over his shoulder, he motioned for Wendell to join them. “Pull up a seat and rest a spell. You look exhausted.” Tapping his staff on the ground, the stones of the terrace merged together, growing into a wide, brown leather recliner. “Sit.”
Wendell had thought he felt completely numb until he flopped down into the chair. The weight of his impending decisions crashed in on him making him aware that every muscle in his body ached. He pushed deeper into the chair, wrapping his arms tightly he attempted to hide his shaking.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up to see the High Elder and Shea deep in conversation, walking across the terrace and directly into the Keep. The High Elder barely paused to glance at Wendell and then giving a nod to the wizard resumed his course. He rose to follow after them but Chuck hooked his arm with the walking staff, holding him back. “I’d give them a few minutes, son. The blueberries need time to regroup before they meet as a Council. Take a moment—they’ll come and get us when they’re ready.”
Nodding feebly, Wendell sat back down and looked up at the wizard. “You look like me.”
Chuck choked on the smoke from his pipe and started coughing. “I what?”
“You’re not blue,” Wendell clarified and then gave Dax a leery sideways glance, “…or green, like him.”
“Oh, yeah,” the wizard nodded. “Pinkie. That’s me.” He leaned in closer with a wink. “It’s because I prefer cheeseburgers, fries and a large chocolate malt to all their home grown fruit and fiber. Just cause I like eating blueberries doesn’t mean I want to grow up to be one, eh?”
Wendell laughed lightly, surprised he had it in him. He was warming under the torchlight and enjoyed the distraction.
Dax grunted, rolling his eyes. “Um, hey kid… I’m sorry,” he
fumbled for the right words, “the High Elder said…well…for…ya know—whackin’ ya around like that.” He shrugged. “It was justa bit a fun.”
He’s apologizing? Wendell’s eyebrows arched high in surprise. “Uh,…sure.”
Dax shrugged again, quickly turning away.
Chuck smirked, “Now doesn’t that feel better, when you say you’re sorry?”
Dax looked at the wizard, grinding his teeth together, “Oodles.”
“Say!” blurted Chuck, startling Wendell as he bounced forward, “Look what I just got!” The wizard swiftly pulled off his pointy hat, reached in up to his armpit and rummaged around. An amusing minute passed while Wendell attempted to not gawk at the wizard mumbling and grunting to himself as he was looking for something. The clanking and thumping Wendell expected. But did he just say, Mahan’s pink panties?
“Ah, hah!” Chuck leaned over the chair and shoved a small, white, rectangular device with a three inch screen and set of earphones plugged into it into Wendell’s hands.
“Hey,” Wendell stared boggled. “This is an—”
“uPod,” finished Chuck pointing excitedly, “and I got the latest season of Trench Wars!”
Looking at the wizard suspiciously he insisted, “No, I was going to say an—”
“uPod. Useful Partitioning Of Data,” Chuck quickly clarified. “Great gadget for carrying songs and movies on the go! I keep it mainly for Trench Wars and my Break of Reality music collection. Incredible band from New York. Three cellos and a drummer.” He winked at Wendell again.
“New York?” Wendell asked, barely above a whisper.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know it. It’s a big city on a little, backwater planet,” then chuckling at his private joke, “in a galaxy far, far away.”
Momentarily speechless, Wendell looked between the uPod and Chuck’s grin while digesting. Unable to contain his exasperation, he almost yelled, “Who ARE you people!?! Are you from Earth? …Where are you FROM??”
“I’m from Elämä.” Cocking his head to the side with a raised eyebrow, Chuck drawled, “Why? Where are YOU from?”
Bending closer to Dax’s big ear, Chuck cupped his mouth and in a loud exaggerated whisper, “I think the boy just snapped his noodle.”
Nudging Wendell, Dax rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him. I don’t understand what he says half the time.”
Chuck shrugged, “That’s the public school system for you.”
“Shut up, Chuck.”
“I’m just saying…”
Ignoring Chuck, Dax changed the subject. “We have a friend competing in the Trench Wars this year and she made it to the finals!” Dax pointed to the uPod, “Just push the bottom of the wheel.”
Wendell pushed the play button and inserted one of the earphones, glancing between Dax and Chuck who grinned with excited anticipation.
Spotlights flared across the floor of a dingy, dirty warehouse. Scraps of metal, crates, barrels and broken glass were strewn about while thousands of people screamed from the stands overhead. A resounding boom echoed through the warehouse as a giant robot flew into view, slamming into the corner, sparks and smoke fuming from its chest. The crowd cheered as another robot came forward, smaller than the first but carrying a large, spiked mace in one hand. Flames shooting from its feet propelled it into the air high over the prone robot. Preparing to strike again it gripped the mace in both steel hands. Rotating its head forward, the prone robot was not helpless as a wide barrel gun appeared where the face used to be. Flashing a brilliant red, a laser beam incinerated the attacker’s mace, knocking the robot from the air.
The crowd went wild, cheering, screaming and rattling the protective chain-link fence separating the fans from the robots.
Dax was getting worked up. He flashed a wide, toothy, freaky-looking grin. “Gnomes have the coolest sports on Elämä!” he exclaimed.
Sighing, Wendell’s brain felt fried. He imagined hearing the crackling and smelling the burn. Definitely on sensory overload. “Wow. You have science and technology here, too? I thought this was a world of magic. You know, like what I saw in the park today, or you making this chair. You know…magic.”
“Think of it this way,” he answered. “If you were a backwoods farmer and had never seen more than the cow and plow you used all the days of your life, what would you call what you just saw? Red beams shooting from faces, jumping higher than a building…”
“Magic?”
“Exactly. It’s just a word for what we don’t understand, isn’t it?” pointing at the uPod, “Gnome Magic. Neato stuff…IF you can get your hands on it.”
Accepting that simple explanation Wendell looked up at Chuck with a yearning expression. “You really have cheeseburgers and fries?” He longed for the comfort of something simple, something easy, something familiar.
Chuck grinned wide and nodded. “Or deep dish pizza if you prefer. You name it and we could probably figure out how to get it. The possibilities are almost limitless. When you have the right connections, if you know what I mean. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”
Echoing through the archway, an angry yell emerged from inside the Keep. “DAAAAAAAAX!”
All three of them froze, looking to the archway.
“Sounds like they’re ready for us,” gulped Dax, looking uneasy. Chuck gave him a sympathetic smile, patting him on the head.
Making their way through the Keep to the High Elders office, Chuck led them to the stairs Wendell had used earlier to descend into the Key. This time he ascended past the slim windows of stained glass and into a narrow hallway ending at a set of double doors.
Chuck held Wendell back as they approached. “This is the Bedurrim, son. The private meeting chamber of the Iskäri High Council.” Leaning forward he dropped his tone to a whisper, “No matter what happens, you’ll do fine if you remember that you have two ears and one mouth. Got it?”
Making a mental note, pay attention, don’t talk too much, got it. “Sure,” Wendell agreed.
Chuck sighed softly before he pushed open the doors to a round chamber thick with the smoke of incense—the sweet, woodsy scent welcoming them.
“Come forward, Wendell,” the High Elder’s voice was firm.
Waving his hands in front of him Wendell peered through the smoke before taking a couple tentative steps forward. Light was filling the room from a stone shelf of fire that encircled them way above their heads, throwing dancing shadows playfully across the floor.
Not sure what was expected of him, Wendell watched his feet as he stepped slowly out of the haze into the center of the room. Come on, Wendell. You can do this. It crossed his mind that he had said that to himself a lot since he got here.
Fear of the unknown pumped fresh adrenaline through his veins. What are they going to think of me? Condemnation, retribution, pleading, bullying, disgust, hatred, mockery…? All the events leading up to this moment left each of these as justifiable reactions in Wendell’s mind. I’ve dealt with those before. Gem or no Gem, Hero or not—apparently, some things are consistent no matter what universe your in.
Raising his head, his eyes met those of the High Elder seated straight ahead of him in an uncomfortable-looking, high-backed, elaborately-carved, wooden chair. On a platform raised two steps above the main floor, he sat in the center of a half circle of fifteen similar chairs—all but one occupied by robed elders. Six black robes, six white, and dividing the two groups were three golden robes of the High Elder and his two counselors. Elder Tiell, bandaged and in a clean white robe, was lying on a cot near the unoccupied seat, observing silently through glazed eyes, his head propped up on a folded white blanket. Standing amongst them Wendell felt naked and exposed as the heat of each stare burned into him.
“My brothers and sisters of the Council, may I present the youth retrieved from the world Earth…Wendell.” There was little emotion in the High Elder’s tone, though there was an edge to it making Wendell nervous. I recognise that voice. That’s a ‘somebody is in trouble’ voice.
r /> “Thank you, Wendell. Please take a seat.” The High Elder nodded to a bench aside the door.
That’s it? Looking around Chuck caught his eye. The wizard seemed baffled, too, shrugging his shoulders. Wendell sat.
“Dax, stand forth,” commanded the High Elder.
Dax moved to the center of the Bedurrim, with an bemused smirk on his lips.
The High Elder stood slowly, removing his hood to expose a sweating scalp that reflected the dancing flames above him. “You have been charged with treason, Dax. How do you plead?”
“Say what!??” Dax snapped loudly, profoundly confused.
Stepping down into the center of the room, the High Elder hovered over Dax, hands clenched into fists behind his back. “You were sent to retrieve the bloodline child to save…” he swallowed, “our people. And you GRABBED THE WRONG PERSON!”
Wendell flinched like he’d swallowed a pile of rocks. I knew it! …I told you so, I told you so!! For one long second, Wendell’s world froze. That was never an easy thing to hear.
Dax had never seen the High Elder so angry. He flinched at the intensity, reflexively raising his hand to protect to his face. “I—I don’t understand.”
“The wrong person Dax!” he fumed. “Bestowed with the power we cannot get BACK!”
Dax lowered his hand. “But I did what you told me to!” Thinking through the events quickly, “I went to the kids house when ya told me to and there he was, sitting all alone! So I grabbed him and brought him to ya!!”
Unprepared for this turn of events, all the blood drained from Wendell’s face. It was like someone had shoved a rag in his mouth—he couldn’t breathe. The kid’s house? I was at Evan’s house. All alone?…Evan had just gone inside. Slapped with the ultimate truth he admitted painfully, They wanted Evan.
Shea stood up, throwing his hood back and pointing at Wendell, “Does he LOOK like a hero to you, Dax!?”
Everyone looked at Wendell. Ouch.
Scratching his scruffy chin, “How am I supposed to know?!” Dax bellowed defensively. “Do I look like an elf?”
Then turning his attention to the High Elder, “By the way…if YOU’d let your kid do HIS job, you wouldn’t BE in this mess!”
Conflicted, the High Elder said nothing.
“I don’t know what all the fuss is about anyway,” he continued, looking over at Wendell to give him a comical grin with a mocking thumbs up sign. “Look at him—the stone took ‘em, didn’t it? Whatcha worried about!?”
“He is not of the royal bloodline, Dax” barked the High Elder, “—which means he does not have the ability to harness the full measure of Ithäri’s power! YOU KNOW THIS! We cannot defeat Mahan and his forces without her!!”
“It’s ok,” interrupted Wendell meekly. Looking down at his chest, his fingers ran over the ridge of the gem.
“WHAT?” yelled the High Elder and Dax in unison, turning on Wendell.
“You can have it back.” He sat there, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, barely lifting his head to look up at the High Elder and the Council. “I already talked it over with the High Elder. A month isn’t that long. I’ll hang out, not be any trouble, give you back the gem and you can pick up Evan when Dax takes me home. Simple.”
Growling, Dax’s eyes narrowed to slits as he turned back to face the High Elder.
“You didn’t tell him?” he hissed. Clearly incensed, his voice grew louder with each word. “You have the balls to accuse me of TREASON—and you didn’t tell him!”
“Tell me what?” the anxiety lifting him to his feet.
Dax glared at the Council, then looked Wendell square in the face. “That you’re gonna be here longer than a month before that stone drops outta yer chest, kid. That thing don’t go by our calendar,…it goes by the cycle of its own world. Their month is a bit longer than ours…”
Wendell’s heart pounded like a jackhammer, stomach sinking, he asked softly, “How much longer?”
Nobody seemed to want to answer his question, each elder looking away or turning his head.
Dax shook in disgust, then his expression softened as he took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out through puckered lips. “A thousand years. Give or take a few.”
The floor slipped out from under his feet and Wendell stumbled, falling back onto the bench. The general tenor of anger in the room dissipated as everyone anticipated Wendell’s reaction.
A thousand years. A thousand years? A thousand years. Strained moments of silence stretched past. A thousand years. A thousand years? He wasn’t surprised, he didn’t have the strength to be angry, he was simply sinking away. Wendell lifted his head, the deep inconsolable hurt evident in his wincing eyes, fervently hoping someone would say something to make sense of this. He looked to Dax, Chuck, the elders. Nobody would meet his gaze.
Except the High Elder.
His expression had changed, softened from angry to fatherly as he watched Wendell with a piercing intensity. Clearing his throat, the High Elder sat forward in the large chair. “There is an option.”
All hoods focused on the leader of their Order—but his words were not for them.
“We will send you home, Wendell.”
What? Increasing whispers and murmurs buzzed scandalously between the hooded elders. Yet the gaze of the High Elder remained on Wendell, peaceful, content.
The High Elder stood and slowly walked toward him. “Go home, Wendell. You’ve suffered enough and I owe you at least that much.” His words brought fresh air to the room, allowing Wendell to breathe again without pain. “There is an illusion to conceal the gem from discovery. You will live a strong life without illness and in about forty of your years, the gem will return to her home, here.”
Wendell didn’t know what to say. I can go home? For real? Chuck reached over and patted his arm.
Listening to the fire fizz and crackle the room waited for Wendell’s reply.
The words didn’t take long to sink in, he had been hoping to hear them since he got here. All the pressure, the weight, the pain—was gone. Invigorated, he jumped to his feet with a big grin on his face. I can go home! To see his mom and Evan and all his…friends? He might even get back in time for the pool party and the girls. Remembering her dimple, smiling eyes and musical voice, The only girl who ever paid any attention to me was Kyliene. The kids in the orchard today seemed genuinely happy to have me around, Wendell wasn’t used to that. The pool party had lost some its appeal. His life and ‘The Plan’ felt a bit…pathetic, he admitted ruefully.
His mind was pulled to the image of Kyliene’s face as he heard the last breath of life leave her. But this wasn’t his fight. Was it? That demon killed her so that he could escape Sanctuary and carry word to his evil master about me. About me, he wailed. I didn’t kill her, I couldn’t have saved her, but I’m the reason she is dead. Not my fight? I don’t think so.
Go home?—or those who love you will suffer. Wendell could not think the words ‘go home’ without the others automatically following. They’re already suffering! Caleb wailing over the loss of his sister, the tear stained face of Nana, the whole community mourning the loss of a child. His thoughts went to his mother. No matter where I am, someone will suffer. The sinister smile of the Vallen took its place in his memories.
If I take the Ithäri-their hope-and go home… Wendell didn’t finish that thought, but he felt as if Ithäri shriveled in his chest and went cold. …those who love you will suffer.
Looking to the High Elder, Wendell found it hard to swallow. After all this, he’s willing to send me home. To make things right. His mind went to ‘The Plan’. What was I really going to do with my life? Somehow all his plans back home seemed…limited. And selfish.
Wendell’s eyes dropped to his chest, his hand tapping the warm surface of the Ithäri.
Why did you accept me? Did you see something no one else could see? He squeezed his eyes tight. If you’re willing to work with me, does that mean I CAN have a purpose…even if I’m the wrong guy
?
Thu-THUMP-THUMP. Thu-THUMP-THUMP. Thu-THUMP-THUMP. Strength surged through his limbs, the extra beat of his heart louder than before.
Wendell smiled to himself. I’ll take that as a yes.
Fixing his eyes on the High Elder once more, “I’m staying.”
Tears welled up in the elders eyes. “Are you certain this is what you want, Wendell?” he asked hopefully. Then with a smirk, “I’m not rushing you or encouraging you to stay. Is this your choice?”
“Yes.” Rolling his eyes, “This is my choice.” Wendell nodded. “I’m not the one everyone was expecting, but,”he placed his hand over the Ithäri, “she accepted me.” Now he smiled, feeling the surge of strength from within. “I’m willing to spend my life to find out why.” Determined that his indomitable spirit would not be extinguished.
Now it was the High Elder that smiled. “As you wish…my Lord Wendell,” bowing deeply.
Straightening, the High Elder placed his arm around Wendell shoulders to guide him to the center of the Bedurrim. In a proud voice, he addressed the Council.
“Brothers. Sisters. Wendell has chosen to stay. He has saved us from ourselves and will fight with us against the evil rising to enslave our world.” He looked directly at Wendell, the light of hope bright in his eyes, “I present to you…our Hero.”
His face flushing, Wendell thought, I hope they don’t get their hopes up TOO high.
A heavy set elder in black robes sat forward, “He will need protection.”
“As well as instruction and assistance along the way, High Elder,” another suggested.
The High Elder nodded. “Agreed, Altorin. And I know the perfect companion for him.” Returning to his place in the half-circle, the High Elder commanded in a loud, triumphant voice, “Dax, stand forth!”
Caught off guard, Dax spit his cigar onto the floor with a loud Phhht! “Now what!?” He caught the stern looks from his reaction and begrudgingly joined Wendell before the Council.
“Dax, as penance for your part in these events,” the High Elder’s smug half-smile got bigger, “the Council assigns you as Wendell’s companion…and guardian for the duration of his calling.”
“WHAT!?” Dax choked. “Awww, COME ON! Ain’t that a bit harsh, Delnar?”
The High Elder smiled coolly. “Your skills make you the perfect choice, and though you erred in his retrieval, Dax, I know of no other to equal your loyalty and determination. You are, in my opinion, the perfect guardian for the boy.”
The High Elder looked about the circle, “All in favor?”
The room resounded with a united, “Aye!”
Folding his arms, Dax grunted and rolled his eyes at Wendell with a heavy sigh. “Fairy Farts.”
“And what of his instruction concerning the Ithäri?” asked Shea openly. “The High Council’s function has been the keeping and bestowing of the Ithäri. We have no records of how she works. Even the Great Library is without record of such things!”
Dax shook his head, casually taking another cigar from his waistband and lighting a match. “Then you’re gonna need a trainer that’s older than the Great Library, kiddo. Someone who knows more about the gem than anyone else.”
“But no one’s older than…” trailing off his eyes grew wide as he made a connection.
Gasps and muffled ‘No’s’ escaped the Council’s collective lips. Wendell, warily observed all the wide eyed expressions around him. Then all at once, the Bedurrim erupted into chaos, elders flying from their seats and throwing their hands in the air.
“I don’t get it,” started Wendell, nudging Dax in the shoulder. “What just happened?”
Grinning mischievously, Dax puffed on his cigar a few times, casually flicking ashes onto the floor before laughing outright. “I think they just watched their redemption go down the crapper.”
Wendell frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Dax grinned wide. “Their hope doesn’t just rest on a noble kid willing to do whatever it takes. Now it rests on the insane bantering of a senile old loon in a pointy hat.”
Wendell scratched his head in confusion. “Who could possibly be that bad?”
The startled chamber fell silent as a tomb as right on cue, Chuck shouted “SNOCKHOCKEY!” with a snort.
All eyes turned on the old wizard fidgeting on the bench, snoring contentedly once again. He had a little brown bear under one arm as he sucked his thumb vigorously, knobby knee’s curled up to his chest.
Dax gleefully grinned at Wendell. “I’ll give ya one guess.”
WANT TO KNOW WHAT
HAPPENS NEXT?
Wendell has no idea what he just got himself into.
Want to know what happens next?
Will Wendell really follow through and stay with Dax, who doesn’t want him? Can Morphiophelius teach Wendell how to use the powers of the Ithari gem?
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RACE TO TIL-THORIN
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