Changing the Prophecy Chapter 15

 Chapter 15 Buttered Biscuits

“Where’s Dosh?” Sonjay asked.

“At the North Coast with Jasper,” Maia told him.

“How come you guys split up?”

“We got separated in the passage,” Denzel answered.

“Then how do you know where she is?”

“Elena called her on her phone if you can believe it, but she was in the middle of something and couldn’t talk and now she doesn’t answer,” Maia explained.

Sonjay tried to process this extraordinary news. “Her phone?”

“For real,” Denzel confirmed with a quick laugh and an eye roll. “Crazy, huh? She said to meet her at Clover’s.”

Following Sonjay’s lead, they skirted the city and made for the main entrance. Occasionally Maia attempted to touch him, but each time her hand went straight through him. It was disturbing.

As they circled the city, while sticking to the protective cover of the surrounding forest, they saw that an encampment of Compost’s soldiers, heavily armed, guarded each of the entrance gates. Outside the main gate, Compost’s vast encampment stretched into the distance. Campfires glowed, tigers stirred restlessly in their paddocks, and soldiers went about their daily activities. Sonjay and the others concealed themselves in a grove of fir trees on the edge of the plain where Compost had established his military tent city.

They spoke in hushed voices.

“Stay here, away from their weapons, and out of sight,” Sonjay ordered. “I’ll go speak to them. They can’t kill me since I’m not in my body. If I can, I’ll appear to you again when I finish. Just in case I can’t, listen up. Do what Doshmisi said. Go to Grandmomma’s and I’ll try to meet you there with the Prophet of the Khoum.”

“Prophet of the Khoum,” Honeydew echoed dreamily.

“So you know what he means by the Prophet of the Khoum?” Denzel asked the princess.

“Of course,” Honeydew confirmed.

“Good. You can explain it to the rest of us later, after Sonjay disintegrates.” It bothered Denzel that he knew nothing about this Prophet of the Khoum and no one seemed forthcoming with more information.

“He’s not going to disintegrate,” Honeydew explained in the voice that Denzel thought of as her “professor voice.” Sometimes she was such an annoying know-it-all. “He’s just going to return to his physical body.”

“Whatever,” Denzel replied.

Sonjay sniffed the air distractedly. “Do you smell that?” he asked.

“What?” Denzel shot his brother a baffled look.

“Beans,” Elena said.

“Beans,” Guhblorin echoed, adding (because he couldn’t entirely suppress his geebaching nature) “the musical fruit.”

“Perfect,” Sonjay announced with glee. “I smell beans and I don’t smell meat to go with them. You know how the Mountain People love their meat.” Sonjay’s amulet began to glow with amber light.

“Can’t you ever think about anything other than food?” Maia demanded in disgust.

“Yup,” Sonjay answered happily. “But I bet those soldiers down there can’t. I bet those soldiers have thought about little other than food for days, maybe weeks. I have an idea. You can thank me later. Don’t go anywhere. Hopefully, I’ll be right back.” With those words he nearly disappeared. The others could vaguely see him in the form of a shimmer as he descended to the plain where Compost’s troops prepared to sit down to their meager meal of beans-with-no-meat.

Sonjay’s voice boomed across the plain. “Beans again?”

“How can he make his voice so loud?” Elena asked in wonder.

“It’s an amplification enchantment,” Honeydew said softly. “I can do that one too. It’s one of the first ones they teach us.”

“How many days of beans?” Sonjay’s loud voice continued, spreading in all directions so that the troops could hear him clearly throughout the tent city. “How long do you want to keep eating beans and leaves? Wouldn’t you just love to bite into a burger or crunch a tasty goose-chicken eyeball? Where’s the meat? Roasted, barbecued, fried up in a pan. Dripping with gravy and poured over mashed potatoes. With macaroni and cheese. With cranberry sauce. How about apple pie and pumpkin pie and pecan pie, with whipped cream, with ice cream. Or an ice cream sundae. Cold vanilla ice cream with hot chocolate sauce. Crushed walnuts on top.”

Compost’s troops had set their plates of beans aside and stood or sat transfixed, listening to the smooth voice as it seductively described the delicious food they dreamed about but had not tasted for some time during the siege.

“Spaghetti and meatballs. Garlic bread. Chicken noodle soup. Eggs and grits with sausages. Blueberries, raspberries, strawberry cheesecake. What are you doing here?” Sonjay asked the troops. “When you could go home to your family and friends, where you could drink kiwi juice, eat chocolate cake, barbecue some ribs, slow-roast a chicken. What do you gain by staying here? Nothing. You’re not well-fed. You’re not appreciated. How long has it been since you’ve had a good meal? A decent espresso? Waffles slathered in butter and syrup? Chocolate chip cookies. Tangerines. Butterscotch pudding. Sweet-potato pie. What keeps you from going home? Just say no. Go back to your farm and your gardens and your kitchen pantry full of tasty treats. Take back your life. Take back your dinner.”

Compost’s soldiers eyed each other with hungry eyes. They stared into their boring plates of beans-with-no-meat.

“Wouldn’t you give anything for a buttered biscuit? Can’t you just taste that biscuit right now? Flaky and light and warm? Yeasty and soft. Go home and make biscuits,” Sonjay implored. “Go home to your families in the Amber Mountains and bake biscuits and spread them with butter and eat them hot, straight from the oven. Imagine biting into those biscuits. Those hot, buttered biscuits!”

A sigh of longing rose from the soldiers as the words “buttered biscuits” passed from one salivating mouth to the next, reverently, longingly, and then with a fresh resolve. The soldiers gathered their belongings, mounted their tigers, and began a mass exodus from the encampment. In front of his tent, Compost threw a hissy-fit the size of Texas. He berated and threatened, jumped up and down and waved his arms in the air. He took off his hat and stomped on it. But no one paid him any mind and the din of departing feet drowned out his voice.

“Hot buttered biscuits,” Sonjay crooned again and again in that velvety hypnotic voice. “Flaky and buttery and warm from the oven. Melt-in-your-mouth buttery biscuits.” Sonjay repeated it until the legions of soldiers had mounted their tigers and headed away from the encampment while dreamily murmuring “buttered biscuits.”

The entire army quickly disappeared, leaving behind a deserted city of abandoned tents, uneaten beans, and trash. The news that the siege army had headed for home to eat buttered biscuits spread to the encampments of troops at each of the city gates and these troops also packed up and left for the Amber Mountains and their farms, families, and a good dinner. By the time the descending sun approached the horizon in the fading afternoon, only a handful of Compost’s most loyal followers shuffled and snuffled miserably outside Compost’s tent, burdened with the thought of all the buttery biscuits they would not eat.

Once the troops evaporated, Sonjay returned, exhausted, to the place in the woods where he had left the others.

“Awesome,” Elena complimented him as he approached them. “You’ve got game.”

“I’m one of the Four and that’s how we roll,” Sonjay boasted, with a weak smile.

“You’re the pusher-man,” Denzel said with an approving nod. “I can’t believe you pulled that off. I want some of them buttery biscuits my own self.”

Sonjay began to flicker in and out of visibility, Honeydew realized that his ability to control his locomotaport had worn perilously thin. “You need to leave,” she told him. “You need to go back to your body. Do it now. Can you do it?”  

“I think so,” Sonjay said faintly.

“Then go,” Maia urged him, anxiously.

“I’ll try to meet up with you at Grandmomma’s,” Sonjay whispered before he vanished completely.

After Sonjay vanished, the others turned their attention to the scene unfolding at the main gate of Big House City below. With his troops gone, Compost had no muscle. Honeydew’s father, High Chief Hyacinth, and a group of royal guards emerged from Big House City and proceeded to Compost and his tiny band of loyalists, which consisted of about a dozen bedraggled men. The instant Princess Honeydew saw her father, she called out to the others, “Let’s go.” She abandoned her hiding place and fairly flew down the hill. Elena and Guhblorin followed reluctantly since Elena didn’t yet feel safe walking out into the open and Guhblorin worried that someone would kill him on sight because he was a geebaching. He stuck to Elena like white on rice. Bisc trotted at Honeydew’s side. It reassured Elena somewhat to have Bisc with them.

As she ran, Honeydew called out, “Daddy! Daddy!” The royal guards had taken Compost and his men into custody. The high chief turned to look up the hillside and his face broke into a delighted grin as he saw his daughter and Bisc bounding toward him. High Chief Hyacinth adored animals and had a special way with them. Bisc jumped up on Hyacinth, nearly knocking him over, and licked his face enthusiastically. A few moments later, Honeydew flung herself into Hyacinth’s arms, sobbing. “Oh Daddy, I’m so glad you’re alright! I was so worried.”

“Not to worry,” Hyacinth comforted his daughter as he stroked her hair. “We’re fine. We heard the voice about the buttered biscuits from inside the city and wondered what enchanter had come to our aid. Who spoke of the buttered biscuits?”

“It was Sonjay, Daddy,” Honeydew told him. Then the words tumbled out of her as if a dam had burst. “The Four came back, only they got separated in the passage so Sonjay landed somewhere else but he locomotaported. Amazing, right? Not since Hazamon, huh?! But Sonjay did it. He found a Prophet of the Khoum. And Denzel and Maia are with me, and they brought a friend named Elena, and they found a geebaching, only he’s a friendly one, a Dud, who won’t hurt a soul, and Compost caught us and put us in a garbage labyrinth, but then the butterflies came and flew away with Guhblorin and when they brought him back he…”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Hyacinth stopped his daughter, “too much inflotation. I’m completely obtuse.” Hyacinth spoke in a unique and somewhat incomprehensible manner because he confused the meaning of words. Honeydew was one of the few people who could usually decipher what he meant. She laughed happily to hear his mangled language.

“You must mean too much information and that you are completely confused,” she told him, as she stood on her toes and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Obtuse means you’re not very observant. I don’t think inflotation is actually a word.”

“I mean you make no sense at all,” he replied.

“I know what you mean. I’ll tell you all about our adventures at dinner. I’m starved. What have we got to eat?”

“Any buttered biscuits?” Denzel asked hopefully. The others had caught up with Honeydew and Bisc. Hyacinth released his daughter and pulled Denzel and Maia into a joyful hug. As royals, the Four were distant cousins to him. He beamed as he greeted them, “Welcome,” he announced in a loud jolly voice, “Welcome to Big House City. I welcome you with opulence, corpulence, and flatulence!”

Elena did not know for sure what opulence or corpulence meant, but she knew what flatulence meant. She thought Hyacinth seemed a rather peculiar ruler and she struggled to keep a straight face so she wouldn’t insult him by laughing at him. But Maia and Denzel, who had traveled with him the previous summer and knew him well, busted out laughing, while Honeydew explained to her father, “Daddy, Daddy! Opulence means wealth, corpulence refers to a really fat person, and flatulence, oh my goodness,” she giggled, “flatulence means farting. I hardly think you wish to welcome them with that.”

“Oh dear,” Hyacinth said, worried and embarrassed. “I do have a nice big house and I have put on quite a few pounds from your mother’s delicious cooking, but I would never wish to subject my guests to flatulence. Oh my.”

“Not a problem,” Denzel assured Hyacinth good-naturedly. “We’re happy to see you again too.”

Meanwhile, the royal guards from inside Big House City had tied Compost’s hands behind his back and similarly incapacitated his few remaining followers. Elena could not stop staring at Compost. She had not had a good look at him when he captured them at the garbage labyrinth. Now that she could see him clearly, she was fascinated by him. He had the nappiest uncombed hair and a film of dirt dusted his yellowish-grayish-brownish skin. His fat belly hung over his belt and jiggled. But most of all she noticed that he smelled bad, like a person living on the street who hadn’t taken a shower in months. She had never seen a more repulsive individual. She looked into his eyes, which gazed back at her sadly in defeat. A wave of pity for him washed over her. Friendless, abandoned, disliked, he didn’t’ seem all that dangerous. He reminded her of the homeless people who came to her family’s church for dinners on Sundays. Elena often went with her parents to serve food to the homeless at church.

Compost asked Elena quietly, with a sneer, “How’d you get out of the labyrinth?”

“The geebaching rescued us,” she answered, just as the others paused in their reunion conversation. Her voice sounded louder in the sudden silence.

“No, it wasn’t really me,” Guhblorin protested. “It was the butterflies.”

“It was you and the butterflies. We would never have gotten out of there if not for you,” Elena insisted. “It was Guhblorin,” she told Compost and Hyacinth and all those within earshot. “The geebaching saved our lives.”

“How irregular,” Hyacinth muttered. “A geebaching of all things.”

Honeydew introduced Elena and Guhblorin to her father and added in a loud voice for all to hear, “Guhblorin is a good geebaching. He’s trying not to hurt anyone. He remains under my royal protection.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Guhblorin said as he flapped his ears nervously.

“High Chief Hyacinth, I plead for mercy for these followers of Compost,” Maia announced. “I think if you allow them to return to their homes, they won’t cause any further trouble. You have captured Compost. Please release these others. The rest of Compost’s troops have left for their homes already.”

Hyacinth rubbed his chin in thought.

“You can do that, Daddy,” Honeydew reassured him.

“Last year we let Sissrath run away with his followers and now look what a problemic scintillation he caused,” Hyacinth pointed out.

Elena thought that a scintillation was a flash of light. She figured that the high chief must mean the situation that Sissrath had caused with the siege. His odd speech was difficult but not impossible to decipher.

One of the followers in question instantly dropped to his knees and the others quickly followed suit. They looked thoroughly miserable. The one who had first dropped to his knees appealed to High Chief Hyacinth for mercy, “Please, Your Highness, allow us to return to our families in the Amber Mountains and we will not trouble you again. We are simple men who fear Sissrath. Please protect us from him.”

Hyacinth blustered and blushed. “Get up, get up,” he commanded. The prisoners stood. “I can’t promise to protect you from Sissrath. I can’t even protect myself from him.”

“Release these prisoners,” Princess Honeydew told the royal guards, who followed her order. The former prisoners hurried off before their captors could change their minds.

At that moment, Honeydew’s mother, High Chieftess Saffron, emerged from Big House City accompanied by Cardamom the enchanter and a great deal of hugging and back-patting and hand-shaking ensued, along with introductions. Cardamom was genuinely delighted to make the acquaintance of a real-live geebaching. Explanations were offered and stories swapped. While the others enjoyed their happy reunion, Elena continued to eye Compost curiously. He smelled quite like over-cooked broccoli, which Elena considered one of the worst-smelling things in the whole world. When her mother cooked broccoli, Elena left the house.

“So,” Elena asked Compost quietly, “how come you’re so dirty?”

“I like dirt,” Compost replied defensively, also quietly. The noisy reunion continued, with everyone oblivious to Elena and Compost.

“I don’t believe you,” Elena told him firmly.

“That shows how much you know,” Compost said.

“You smell dreadful. You can’t possibly enjoy that.”

“It keeps people like you from bothering me.”

“You don’t know me. Maybe I like rotten vegetables. Maybe you would like me.”

“I doubt it.”

“Why do you want to fight the high chief? What did he do to you?” Elena asked.

“He’s an imbecile who rules only because of his royal blood. He has virtually no ability at enchantment. He needs a barn full of advisors to make even the simplest decision. And yet he leads the land,” Compost spat out venomously. “The People of the Mountain Downs, my people, are infinitely better equipped as leaders and yet we must do the bidding of that fool who can’t even speak a grammatical sentence. I come from a people of great enchanters. We should rule.”

“If you think about it, though, it doesn’t matter how smart you are or how proficient you are at enchantment if you’re not a good person. To be a good leader, you have to be a good person. You have to be someone who cares about helping others and making their lives better. The smartest person in the world could be a rotten leader if that person is mean and hurts other people,” Elena countered.

Compost studied Elena uncertainly.

“Being smart isn’t everything, you know,” Elena added.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No. I came with my friends.”

“The Four?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what you call them here. I wasn’t supposed to come with them. They didn’t want me to come, but I came anyway. It’s a long story.”

“I’m their sworn enemy, you know,” Compost told Elena.

“Your point?” she asked, somewhat rebelliously.

Compost chuckled. “Tell me, do you think someone who treats most of his subjects with respect but treats one group of his subjects like second-class citizens is a good leader?”

“Of course not,” Elena answered. “That’s hurting other people. That’s unjust and unethical.”

“Well,” Compost continued, smugly, “that’s the treatment my people have received. As if we are inferior beings. I resent it. If Hyacinth can’t treat us properly then he shouldn’t be the high chief, right?”

“My people are treated like inferiors a lot of the time where I come from,” Elena told Compost. “And the leaders in our country don’t do enough to stop it.”

“What are your people?” Compost asked. He focused intensely on what Elena had to say. It was as if the two of them were in their own private room, separated from all the clamor that surrounded them.

“I’m a Mexican-American, a Chicana. Where I come from…” Elena began to explain.

Compost interrupted her, “In the Farland?”

“The Farland?”

“You come from where the Four come from, right? The Farland.”

 “The Farland,” Elena repeated after him. “OK, where I come from in the Farland, Mexican-American people are often treated as inferiors.”

“Why do they do you like that?” Compost asked.

“Well, for one thing a lot of us speak Spanish instead of English as our first language, and for another a lot of us are immigrants.”

“Spanish? Immigrants?” Compost asked, uncomprehending.

Elena thought for a minute about how to explain it to him. “We originally come from a land farther away from the center of things than where most of the other people who live around us come from. Our land is called Mexico and we speak our own language called Spanish there.”

“The People of the Mountain Downs live farther from Big House City than anyone,” Compost said with a note of surprise.

“Do they treat you worse because of that?” Elena asked.

“Partly. We do things our own way, which is a little differently from the other people. For instance, the Mountain People eat meat and all the other people don’t.”

“You mean all the other people here are vegetarians?” Elena asked incredulously.

“No lie,” Compost confirmed.

“That’s loco!”

“Loco?”

“Crazy. They’re crazy. I couldn’t live without Carne Asada, Pollo Con Mole, or Pork Carnitas.”

“What is that stuff?” Compost asked.

“Mexican food! But of course; you never had Mexican food. Pobrecito, poor guy. Pollo Con Mole is chicken in spicy chocolate sauce,” Elena explained.

Compost’s eyes grew large. “Oh stop. Stop this minute. You’re killing me. That sounds so excellent. I haven’t had anything except beans and cabbage for weeks.”

“I can cook some for you. Mí abuela (that’s Spanish for grandmother) taught me how to cook and I love cooking traditional Mexican food.” Elena’s words tumbled over each other in a hurry as her thoughts raced.

“You would do that? Cook me Pollo Con Mole?” Compost sounded shocked.

“Why not?”

“Because no one likes me,” Compost blurted out.

“So change,” Elena said, as she tossed her blue-black hair over her shoulder. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment.

“Change?”

“Yes, change. Become a person people will like.”

“That’s too hard.”

“If the geebaching could do it then you could do it.”

“The geebaching?”

“Yeah. He decided to stop killing people with laughter. He changed. You could change too.”

“Like how?” Compost mumbled.

“Take a bath, for one thing. Get a haircut. I could cut your hair for you. Sheesh. Isn’t it obvious? Look at yourself. You’re a hot mess. Put on some decent clothes. You look like you just crawled out of that hideous garbage labyrinth. Brush your teeth. I mean, make an effort.”

“And what if I agree to do that?” Compost sounded extremely surprised to be saying those words even as they tumbled from his mouth.

“People might take to you. And I’ll see what I can do about this present predicament of yours and your previous unwise association with that unsavory Sissrath character.” At Elena’s words, Compost laughed out loud. His laughter caught the attention of Denzel, Maia, and the royals, who fell silent and gazed at Elena and Compost.

“Compost would like a bath if that can be arranged,” Elena announced.

Unfortunately, she announced this just as Guhblorin was taking a long drink of water from a bottle. He exploded with laughter, spraying High Chief Hyacinth. Water then poured out of his nose and ears as he fell on his back laughing like only a geebaching can, which set everyone else laughing. They all roared with laughter. Except for Elena, who kept a completely straight face. She had taken on a mission and remained unmoved by the hilarity.

“Compost is rethinking his identity,” Elena insisted, when the others had quieted enough to hear her. “He needs a makeover. He wants a bath and a haircut, which I will give him, and a large tray of Pollo Con Mole, which I intend to cook for him.”

“You’re serious,” Denzel replied.

“As serious as a hunting coyote,” Elena confirmed.

“As serious as what she said,” Compost added. “I’m with her.”

“We’re going second class together, aren’t we, Compost?” Elena linked her arm through Compost’s and, to everyone’s astonishment, she planted a tiny peck of a kiss on his grimy cheek. “Compadres,” Elena said.

Then the most amazing thing happened. Compost blushed. “Second-class compadres,” Compost said to Elena, with a twisted little smile.

Maia nearly fainted dead away at the shock when she noticed that Compost’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and she remembered a line from one of Momma’s favorite Otis Redding songs:  “Try a little tenderness.”

Changing the Prophecy Chapter 14

 

Chapter 14 New Beginnings Well

As the Corportons descended, Mole and the children melted into the compound, distancing themselves from Doshmisi and Jasper. Doshmisi hoped that Jack would use his intuit abilities to catch the silent message she “thought” to him, telling him to remain hidden on the hillside (either he would get her message or he would exercise common sense). She held her hands above her head as commanded by the mechanical voice as she studied the strange creatures in the white jumpsuits. They appeared human, although she couldn’t tell for certain since they wore gray masks over their faces. What if the creatures underneath the jumpsuits and masks looked like giant squid with tentacles? That thought made Doshmisi shiver with repulsion.

One of the Corportons picked up Doshmisi’s backpack in one hand and Jasper’s backpack in the other. The Corportons encircled Doshmisi and Jasper with guns trained on them. Doshmisi’s heart sunk at the sight of guns in Faracadar. She wondered if all their guns shot bullets or if some of them shot a death-ray or something worse.

“Walk,” the mechanical Corporton voice ordered.

Doshmisi and Jasper walked ahead of their captors, careful not to make any sudden moves that would provoke the aliens. As they marched along the fence and toward the gate at the entrance to the compound, Doshmisi felt a growing sense of panic. Night had fallen swiftly and the sky was dark, or as dark as the Faracadaran sky became with the many colorful stars dotting it.

Armed Corportons inside the compound cleared the area surrounding the front gate as the Corportons outside the compound arrived at the entrance with their new prisoners. Inside a guard house next to the gate, a Corporton manipulated the controls and the gate swung open smoothly on its hinges. With the Corportons following close behind, Doshmisi and Jasper began to enter the compound.

Just as they stood in the pathway of the gate, a deafening roar split the air. Doshmisi clapped her hands over her ears and screamed in pain. A gigantic plume of fire shot upward from the ocean in the distance. A series of pops and squeals echoed across the water. The plume of fire expanded, evolved into swirls of orange and golden flame, and then thick black smoke curled up from the foot of the fire. The Corportons as well as the people inside the compound stood transfixed, gazing out at the ocean. The black smoke swirled inland to the compound and engulfed the onlookers while white ash sifted down upon them, at first in random flecks and then in a steady stream.

No one could see more than a few inches in front of them because of the black smoke. In the ensuing confusion, people and Corportons ran in every direction. Coughing and rubbing their eyes, many of the captives stumbled out through the open gate to freedom, hastily disappearing into the surrounding forest. The Corportons retreated further inside the compound.

“Give me your hand so we don’t get separated,” Jasper yelled to Doshmisi. “What a stroke of luck,” Jasper exclaimed.

“No,” Doshmisi contradicted him grimly. “It was probably the most unlucky thing that could happen. I think the New Beginnings Well just exploded and caught on fire; and if that happened then tons of oil will leak into the ocean. It will kill every living thing in that water for miles around.”

Through the swirling black smoke, Doshmisi noticed the gate begin to swing on its hinges as it started to close. “Quick,” Doshmisi alerted Jasper, “the gate!” As she pulled Jasper toward the gate, Jack materialized out of a billow of smoke. He swooped down from above their heads on his skateboard, which had become a hoverboard that clung to his feet. He pulled the skateboard out from under himself and jammed it between the closing door of the gate and the latch in the gatepost. The gate hit the skateboard with a thud and failed to lock shut.

“Woo-hoo!” Jack hollered like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco as he floated over to Doshmisi and Jasper.

“Well-played, Jack,” Doshmisi cheered.

“Look,” Jasper pointed at his backpack and Doshmisi’s. The Corporton had dropped their backpacks on the ground and fled. They picked them up and put them on as Mole appeared out of the obscurity of the smoke and drifting ash. He hugged Doshmisi and Jasper. “That be somethin’,” he said as he shook his head sadly, his dreadlocks flopping around his shoulders. “That explosion probably blew the evening crew to pieces. I had friends on that rig.”

“I’m so sorry,” Doshmisi told him.

But Jasper, thinking fast, took no time to mourn the dead crew. He instructed Mole, “Get these people out of here before the Corportons reorganize and figure out that the gate didn’t shut.”

“The gate be open?” Mole asked incredulously.

“Jack put his skateboard in the latch. It didn’t close properly,” Jasper informed him.

“I have to find the other battery makers,” Mole said.

“Pass the word that the gate is open,” Doshmisi told him. “If we lose track of you in this hot mess, and we get out of here too, we plan to head for Clover at the library on Whale Island. Meet us there, Mole.”

“Clover. Whale Island. See you there,” Mole replied.

“And Mole?” Doshmisi called after him as he disappeared into the smoky compound. “Denzel is at Big House City. He’ll meet us at Clover’s too.”

She could no longer see Mole, but his voice emerged from a mountain of billowing smoke. “How do you know where he is?” Mole asked.

“I just do,” she replied. “Trust me.”

Word about the open gate spread quickly and captives poured out of the compound, pushing the gate open wide so that Jack’s skateboard fell to the ground. Jack picked it up. Jasper pulled a length of rope out of his backpack and tied it to the gate, preparing to secure the gate in its open position.

“Stay here,” Doshmisi told Jasper. “Stay by the gate and make sure it stays open, and don’t get caught inside. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Jasper asked in alarm.

“I need to find Dagobaz. We can’t leave him behind. They’ll kill him,” Doshmisi replied.

“Are you crazy?” Jasper asked, as he securely tied the gate open. “How can you find Dagobaz in this circus? We can’t see past our own noses and we don’t even know if he’s here!”

“I’m sure he’s here. I have to try to rescue him.”

“I’m going with you,” Jasper insisted. “I can’t keep the Corportons from closing the gate once they discover it’s open and I don’t want us to get separated. Let’s find Dagobaz quickly and get out.”

“Jack!” Doshmisi called. “Jack, do you know where they put Dagobaz? Can you see?” People rushed past Doshmisi and out the gate. She hoped that the clairvoyant intuit could see Dagobaz’s whereabouts and guide her to him. Doshmisi shouted Jack’s name again just as the little intuit, floating on his skateboard, bobbed up next to her elbow and touched her arm.

“Jack knows,” he said quietly. “Jack knows.” He slipped his little hand into hers. Pulling Jasper behind her, she followed the intuit into the mayhem of the smoky compound. Suddenly, an explosion inside the compound rocked the ground under their feet. Doshmisi and Jasper dropped to their knees while Jack floated above them, still holding Doshmisi’s hand.

“Crazy. Everything is blowing up. Do you smell something burning?” Jasper asked.

“I do. I wonder what caused that explosion,” Doshmisi replied.

“It happened nearby. Not out on the ocean,” Jasper noted.

“Quick,” Jack said. “Quick, quick.”

Doshmisi hopped back up to her feet and hurried after Jack. Then she distinctly heard the panicked scream of a frightened horse. Her heart raced. It had to be Dagobaz. How many horses could there be in the compound? Jack led them to a wooden door, which he opened. The three of them stepped inside and closed the door behind them. They found themselves inside a cool, dim barn. A young boy who had the deep-blue glow to his skin characteristic of the Coast People stood plastered against a wall of the barn in fright. A few feet away, Dagobaz bucked and kicked. Heavy ropes tethered the horse to metal loops in the floor. Foam frothed from his mouth and coated his neck while his eyes flashed with terror. He screamed deafeningly.

“He’s going crazy,” the young boy said. “I can’t get near him to cut him loose. He’ll trample me.”

“Don’t worry,” Doshmisi told the boy. “I’ll free him. He knows me. You save yourself. The gate is open right now. Run and you can get out of here.” She put her backpack on the floor and reached in and took out an apple. She bit off a bite-sized piece just right for a horse.

“Don’t try to ride him,” the boy warned. “No one can tame him. He’ll kill you like all the others who tried. I’ve seen him do it.” With those words, he fled from the barn.

Doshmisi took a step toward the frenzied stallion, holding the piece of apple in front of her in her outstretched hand.

“Dosh,” Jasper said urgently, “he might not let you help him. He might be too far gone. It’s not worth the risk.”

“There’s no risk,” Doshmisi maintained stubbornly. “I know this horse. Just keep still. No sudden moves. No matter what happens.”

Doshmisi stepped toward Dagobaz as she spoke to him softly and soothingly. “Remember me, your friend from the woods? I won’t hurt you. I’ve come to help you. Please trust me.” Dagobaz snorted and blew through his nose. He pawed the ground, but stopped bucking. His ears flicked and lay back against his head as he listened. Doshmisi continued to speak to him soothingly as she held the apple out to him, just like she had done back in the woods when they had bunked together for the night. Dagobaz reached forward with his muzzle and took the piece of apple. Doshmisi patted his nose and then slowly reached up to the harness to which the ropes restraining him were attached. She unbuckled the harness. Dagobaz whinnied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jasper jump involuntarily with alarm. Dagobaz saw him too and shook his head. Foam spattered Doshmisi’s arms. She patted his sweaty neck and continued to speak to him softly as she unfastened him from his bondage. Underneath the restraints, sores and scabs dotted the horse’s skin and Doshmisi winced at the sight of his wounds. Why would anyone mistreat a magnificent creature such as Dagobaz in this fashion?

The ropes and harness fell away and the horse stood unfettered. He rose on his hind legs and squealed. Jasper yelled “Dosh!” But Doshmisi felt fine and so did Dagobaz. He nuzzled her. She gave him the rest of the apple. “Let’s get you out of here,” she said to him. She started to walk toward the door, but Dagobaz whinnied and tossed his head. He walked over to a bench and stood in front of it. He whinnied again. Doshmisi went to the bench and got up on it. Dagobaz rubbed his side against her.

“On,” Jack said, excitedly. “On, on!”

“No,” Jasper cried, “you heard what that boy said. He has killed other riders. It’s too dangerous. He might throw you.”

“He’ll allow me to ride. Because I did not try to break him, I have tamed him enough to ride,” Doshmisi reassured Jasper. She grabbed Dagobaz’s mane and hoisted herself onto his back. She had learned to ride at Manzanita Ranch under Aunt Alice’s tutelage and had become adept at riding bareback after much practice. The minute she landed on the horse’s back, she became one with him. “You have to let Jasper on too,” she whispered in the horse’s ear. “He won’t hurt you and we can’t leave him behind.”

 “He let you on,” Jasper said, transfixed by the vision of Doshmisi on Dagobaz’s back. “I can’t believe he let you on.”

“And he’s going to let you on too. Bring my backpack and come here.”

“Oh no. He likes you, but he doesn’t even know me.”

“How else do you plan to get out of here? If that gate is still open then we have to move. Fast. Get over here,” Doshmisi ordered. “Just walk slowly and stay where he can see you. Put your hand out and let him sniff you first, then walk around to the bench and I’ll give you a hand up.” Jasper did as she told him. From the bench, he passed Doshmisi her backpack, then he threw his leg over Dagobaz’s back and seated himself behind her.

“Open the door, Jack,” Doshmisi called to the intuit, “and let’s get on up outta here.”

Jack jumped back onto his hoverboard and opened the barn door. Smoke billowed into the barn and the panicked cries, that had remained distant and muffled with the door shut, pierced the air. “It’s OK,” Doshmisi soothed Dagobaz, as she leaned down low over his mane and put her mouth next to his ear. “I’m with you now. We can do this. We have to go.”

“Diversion,” Jack exclaimed. “Diversion, diversion.”

Suddenly Doshmisi understood what Jack had meant when he had said “diversion” earlier. He had seen the explosion in the future, and that it would cause a diversion. He could see it before it happened, but he hadn’t been able to articulate what he saw properly.

“I get what you mean now, Jack,” Doshmisi called to him, “but sometimes I wish you could communicate like a normal person.”

“He can’t help it,” Jasper reminded Doshmisi. “That’s the nature of intuits.”

“You are so weird, Jack. You hear me? Weird!” Doshmisi shouted in exasperation.

“Weird,” Jack repeated with a chuckle. “Weird, weird, weird.” He appeared to like the sound of that.

Then Dagobaz put his head down and followed Jack out the door of the barn and into the chaos.

 The smoke seemed less ferocious even though one of the large buildings in the compound had caught fire. Occasional popping explosions emerged from the burning building.

“I bet Mole managed to sabotage something,” Jasper speculated. “I wonder if he got out.”

“Let’s hope that gate’s still open,” Doshmisi called over her shoulder to Jasper, as she clung to Dagobaz, who galloped forward, with Jack hoverboarding beside him.

Changing the Prophecy Chapter 13

Chapter 13 Change of Plan

After escaping from the garbage labyrinth, Denzel, Maia, and their fellow travelers mounted their tigers and made a mad dash to the Whispering Pond, where they set up camp in a thicket of trees and shrubs that concealed them from prying eyes. The tree canopy overhead offered protection from Compost’s skeeters. Honeydew picked sweet pears from a tree familiar to her. While growing up at Big House City, she had often visited the Whispering Pond. She knew where to find tasty mushrooms and a yellow root-plant that resembled a potato. She said she had often gone mushrooming with her father near the Whispering Pond as a little girl. Denzel made a campfire and Honeydew wrapped the mushrooms and potato-like roots in thick rubbery leaves that she had picked from a nearby tree. She placed the wrapped vegetables in the coals and they tasted delicious and satisfying once roasted. While waiting for the vegetables to roast, they dipped into the pond to wash off the grime from the journey and the garbage labyrinth. The tigers grazed on the surrounding vegetation while Bisc disappeared to hunt for his dinner. Honeydew did not need to summon water because they found a spring that bubbled from a cluster of gray-blue rocks.

After they had eaten, Guhblorin paddled happily around the pond and Honeydew sat in front of Maia, who unbraided and rebraided Honeydew’s hair in one long braid. Bisc placed his enormous head in Honeydew’s lap and she stroked his ears gently. Elena stood in a pool of amber light, caught in the rays of the late-day sun as it descended. She had taken her cell phone out of her backpack and appeared transfixed as she punched the buttons.

“I’m guessing Compost’s troops are camped on the plain outside the main gate to Big House City,” Denzel told the others. He peered through a pair of binoculars in the direction of the city. “I can’t see from here. Too many trees.” He bit his lower lip distractedly as he strategized in his head.

“Good,” Maia muttered. “If you can’t see them then they can’t see us.”

“We’ll have a look tomorrow,” Honeydew told Denzel. “I, for one, could use a good night’s sleep before taking on Compost’s army.”

“Maybe, instead of risking another encounter with Compost, we should sneak inside the city and consult with Cardamom and the high chief and chieftess. I know a secret passage into the city that Crumpet showed us last year. It originates in the garden over there.” Denzel waved his hand in the direction of the garden. “I doubt anyone else knows about it. We found it from an enchanted map given to us by Clover. I’m willing to bet that no one inside the city realizes that they can sneak out through that passage just as easily as we can sneak in. We could even bring a lot of people out of the city through that passage, given time.”

“If we go inside the city, we won’t get stuck there, will we?” Elena asked anxiously, without looking up from her phone.

“We could come back out the same way we go in,” Denzel reassured her.

“I like that idea,” Maia said.

“Me too,” Honeydew concurred. “I would feel better if I could consult with my parents. I don’t want to give Compost a chance to capture us again.”

“What in the heck are you doing with that phone?” Denzel asked Elena, irritably.

Elena shrugged. She had tried texting her big sister with whom she shared her bedroom at home, just to see what would happen. The phone said “no service” and no signal bars appeared on the screen. She considered playing one of the games that she had downloaded to it, but she decided not to use up the phone’s charge. Even though she couldn’t call anyone, she didn’t want the phone to go dead. It represented her last communication link to her family and the world that she had unwittingly left behind when she impulsively jumped on Maia’s cushion.

Denzel took the travel crystal that Goldenrod had given him out of his backpack and walked over to Elena. From where she stood, if he stood next to her, he could catch a few golden rays of the setting sun through the trees. The travel crystal sparkled in a shaft of fading light. He asked Honeydew, “Do you think I should try to contact Goldenrod to let him know we’re going inside?”

Honeydew replied, “I think we should wait until we get in and contact him after we have talked to my parents and Cardamom. Then we’ll have more to report. My dad and mom might want to speak to him too.”

Denzel nodded in agreement. He took a step out of the sunlight.

“Hold on, come back here,” Elena said to Denzel.

“What?” Denzel asked.

“Come back here and look at this.” She did not lift her eyes from the display on her phone for a second.

“Puleez. I don’t want to see a baby laughing or a cat flushing a toilet or some other stupid video that you downloaded to your phone. I’m trying to think about ...” Elena interrupted him by grabbing his arm and pulling him beside her. She pointed at her cell phone display screen.

“What!?” Denzel exploded in exasperation.

“Look at the signal bars. I have service,” Elena replied. “But only when you stand right next to me with that crystal thingy. Stay there. Don’t move.” Elena punched her phone keypad and put the phone to her ear.

“Dosh? It’s me! Elena!” she shouted excitedly into the phone. Elena could hear the sound of people shouting in the background. Doshmisi did not seem happy to hear her at all. “Coptorons? Jaspo? Clover?” Elena repeated in bewilderment.

Denzel rudely snatched the phone from Elena’s ear.

“Dosh?” Denzel yelled into the phone. But Dosh had hung up. He hit redial but he got her voicemail.

“She said she couldn’t talk. She was in the middle of something,” Elena stated flatly, as she folded her arms across her chest. “Now can I have my phone back?”

Denzel rounded on Elena. “What else did she say?”

“How about, ‘thanks for figuring out how to call Dosh’ or ‘that was a great idea, Elena’ or ‘wow, I guess you didn’t need a cell tower after all’ or some acknowledgement that I can solve problems too?” Elena hollered at him.

Denzel found himself pinned in the gaze of three glaring girls. He wished more than ever that Jasper or Sonjay was there to provide him with some back-up, but it was just him and the girls. The geebaching offered no help; he was obliviously gargling pond water and flapping his ears. Denzel admitted to himself that he had acted kind of mean to Elena ever since they had arrived in Faracadar. He knew he could stop if he made an effort. And he had to give her credit for discovering that the cell phone worked when she held it next to the crystal. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“What did you say?” Honeydew asked pointedly. “I didn’t quite hear that.”

“I said I’m sorry. To Elena. That was good that you figured out how to call Dosh,” Denzel said clearly, swallowing his pride.

“Apology accepted,” Elena told him. “Gracias.”

“Elena, please. What did Dosh say?” Maia asked urgently, to Denzel’s relief. It saved him from having to ask again.

“She said that the trees said go to Clover. And that she and Jaspo will meet us at Clover. And Coptorons are, no, um, Corportons. I think it was Corportons, that they’re in the ocean on the North Coast. And she said she has a mole with her.” As she relayed Doshmisi’s message, Elena realized that she had forgotten some of it because she had gotten angry at Denzel and had not repeated the message to him right away.

“She must be with Jasper,” Denzel said.

“Sí,” Elena confirmed, relieved, “that’s who’s with her. Jasper.”

“Mole must be with them too. What’s he doing at the North Coast?” Maia wondered.

“What’s a Coptoron?” Honeydew asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Elena replied.

“Coptoron or Corporton? What did she say?” Denzel demanded.

Elena no longer felt sure of the word, but she repeated “Corporton,” afraid to confess that she might have gotten it wrong.

“You’re sure?” Maia cross-examined Elena.

“Pretty sure,” Elena replied uncertainly.

Denzel made an effort to hold his tongue. Elena had mangled the message. He wondered if Doshmisi had said something important that Elena had forgotten. Getting mad at her wouldn’t do any good so he kept his mouth shut. But he hoped that if there was more to Doshmisi’s message that Elena would remember it soon.

They divided up the hours of the night for each person to take a shift at guard duty and then they settled down to sleep. Guhblorin took the first watch. He hummed a dreadfully off-key tune to himself happily as he gazed at the stars. Even though it was in his nature to make his human friends laugh themselves to death, he could feel his nature changing. It was hard work but he was doing it and that made him feel better than he had ever felt in his whole life.

In the morning, with the sun shining brightly, Denzel held the crystal next to Elena’s cell phone and Elena tried to call Doshmisi again. The phone worked but Doshmisi didn’t answer so Elena left a voice message. Denzel grilled her about what she had heard in the background while talking to Doshmisi the night before and Elena recalled only that she heard people shouting indistinctly in the distance.

“She insisted that we should go to Clover’s,” Elena reminded the others. “Should we go to Clover’s instead of sneaking into this city? Doshmisi definitely said she would meet us at Clover’s.” Elena felt reluctant to enter a city under siege. What if they got stuck in there?

“I wonder why she didn’t come straight to Big House City,” Maia said.

“What’s at the North Coast?” Elena asked.

“I don’t know. We’ve never been there,” Denzel answered. He had resolved to try to be nicer to Elena.

“I’ve gone there,” Honeydew piped up. “There’s not much at the North Coast. No one lives there. People go there on vacation sometimes. They camp out on the beach. It’s beautiful; you know, peaceful, and far away from everything.”

“So why do you think Doshmisi went there?” Elena asked. “She’s obviously not looking for a vacation.”

“She definitely said the North Coast?” Denzel demanded of Elena, a bit more sharply than he had intended.

“Well, yes. I told you that yesterday, Paco,” Elena replied impatiently.

“Paco? What’s with the Paco?” Denzel muttered in annoyance. He did not remember her saying anything about Doshmisi being at the North Coast. He remembered her saying that Corportons were in the ocean at the North Coast, but not that Doshmisi was there with them.

“It’s a Spanish nickname,” Maia told him. “An affectionate one,” she added, to smooth his ruffled feathers.

“For what?” he demanded.

“It’s nothing bad, just a nickname for Francisco,” Elena said, tossing her blue-black hair over her shoulder so that it shimmered in the sunlight.

“My name is not Francisco,” Denzel replied.

“Well, you don’t think there’s a Spanish nickname for Denzel, do you?” Elena giggled. Guhblorin’s eyes twinkled and he suppressed a grin.

“You spend too much time with that geebaching,” Maia told Elena with amusement. Denzel was not similarly amused.

A heated discussion ensued about whether the group should sneak into Big House City or go straight to Clover’s. In the course of the discussion, Elena remembered that Doshmisi had asked her if Sonjay was with them, an important piece of information, since it meant that Sonjay was not with Doshmisi. Denzel struggled to keep his temper when he learned of this critical omission.

Honeydew and Denzel thought they should go into the city, Maia and Elena wanted to go to Clover’s, and Guhblorin suggested they go to the North Coast. It took the better part of the morning for Denzel and Honeydew to convince the others that the best plan, since they were already right at Big House City, was to sneak inside and consult with Cardamom and Honeydew’s parents. By the time they had carefully made their way to the garden, avoiding skeeters and Compost’s soldiers in the process, the sun stood directly overhead and Elena had begun to think about lunch, which they did not have.

Denzel found the statue that marked the entrance he sought and with help from the others he moved the large, flat stone that concealed the secret passageway into Big House City. If he could remember which way to go once he got underground, Denzel felt confident he could follow the passageway directly into the Big House where High Chief Hyacinth and Chieftess Saffron lived.

Just as Denzel placed his foot on the first step leading down to the secret passage, Sonjay suddenly appeared out of thin air, standing beside the statue that guarded the staircase leading under the ground.

“Hey you guys,” Sonjay spoke up from behind the group huddled at the entrance. “I’m gonna have to veto this plan.” Everyone whirled around to face him.

A smile spread across Denzel’s face and Maia rushed over to Sonjay to give him a hug. Denzel’s smile vanished an instant later as Maia’s arms swept straight through Sonjay and crashed into each other in the near vicinity of Sonjay’s chest. Astonished, Princess Honeydew attempted to pat Sonjay’s face but her hand went right through his cheek and her fingers wiggled inside his head. Denzel thought it looked as if Honeydew had touched a hologram.

“What in the heck?!” Denzel exclaimed.

Maia burst into tears. “Did you die? Are you a ghost?” she sputtered. Elena put a comforting arm around Maia.

“It’s OK,” Sonjay reassured everyone. “I’m alive. Just not here. I’m locomotaporting.”

“No fair. How did you learn to do that? I can’t even throw my voice yet,” Honeydew complained.

“How do we know it’s really you and not Sissrath impersonating you or something?” Denzel asked suspiciously. “If it’s really you, then tell me how many stair steps I can jump on my skateboard.”

“Six,” Sonjay answered instantly. “You did seven once, but you almost broke your wrist and you can’t do it again.”

“Maybe I can. How do you know? So what is your least favorite activity?” Denzel asked.

“Flossing,” Sonjay replied.

“What do you call Bayard when he’s naughty?”

“A heap of feathers,” Sonjay replied. Just at that moment, the bird in question appeared and landed on Denzel’s shoulder. “And here’s the heap of feathers now,” he said with a chuckle.

“Is he locomotaporting too?” Maia asked.

Bayard happily pecked Denzel on the head. “Ouch!” Denzel exclaimed. “Nope, he’s for real.”

“Tough luck,” Sonjay told his brother. “He can’t peck me at the moment so it’s gonna be you.”

“How can you locomotaport?” Honeydew demanded. “No one can do that anymore.”

“I came into my power as an enchanter and Crumpet and Buttercup are training me. I’m not that good at enchantment yet. But when we discovered that I can locomotaport, and that no one else can do it, I started practicing.”

“No one has done it since Hazamon. I can’t believe you can do it. Is locomotaporting the first thing you learned how to do as an enchanter?” Honeydew asked.

“Impressive,” Denzel complimented his brother. “What’d you do with the rest of you? The blood and guts, I mean.”

“It’s a long story and I have to work quickly here so I can get back to the rest of me as soon as possible. Otherwise, disembodied impairment.” Sonjay wondered whether or not to tell Denzel and Maia that he had found their father. He decided against it. For one thing, he selfishly wanted to keep Reggie all to himself for a little longer. He also didn’t know how things might turn out for everyone and he didn’t want to tell Denzel and Maia about Reggie only to have him die or get captured again before they could see him. He decided to keep it a secret; and he also decided not to worry them by telling them that he had left his body in the dungeon at the Final Fortress. He would provide as little information about his situation as possible.

“I came to take care of some business here at the siege and then, after I get back to my body, I’ll try to meet up with you somewhere,” Sonjay told the others.

“At least tell us where you wound up after the passage,” Maia demanded.

“You seriously don’t want to know,” Sonjay said, sidestepping her question. Then he noticed Elena. “Whoa. Elena? What are you doing here?”

“She crashed the party,” Denzel said.

“Oh yeah,” Sonjay said as he remembered, “you jumped on Maia’s cushion at the last minute. I bet you were tripping when you found yourself in Faracadar.”

“That’s an understatement. I’m getting used to it, though,” Elena said.

“Weren’t you wearing pajamas?”

“Just a pajama top. I got a shirt at the Wolf Circle,” she replied, blushing.

“You went to the Wolf Circle?”

“We arrived in the Amber Mountains instead of Debbie’s Circle,” Denzel explained.

“Lucky you. Listen, I don’t want to stay here in this locomotaport any longer than necessary because I’m still learning how to control it, so let’s go to the siege.”

“We’re at the siege,” Denzel told him. “And we were just about to sneak into the city to consult with Cardamom when you appeared.”

“Yes, well that’s why I had to risk locomotaporting over here when I don’t totally get how to do it yet. I came to prevent you from sneaking into the city. It’s a bad idea,” Sonjay informed him.

“What makes it a bad idea?” Denzel asked defensively. Why did he have to convince everyone that this plan, which seemed like a no-brainer to him, was the most sensible? “Wait what? How did you know about our plan?”

“I left my body with Crumpet and Buttercup and we found the Prophet of the Khoum and he has these visions and he could foresee that you would try to sneak into the city and he says this plan will not turn out well,” Sonjay tried to explain, all in a jumbled rush.

“Prophet of the Khoum?” Honeydew cried out with excitement.

“You lost me at Crumpet,” Elena muttered. Guhblorin patted her hand sympathetically and asked, “What’s flossing?”

“Trust me on this one, man. No time to explain. Don’t go in there. We have to convince Compost and his troops to leave,” Sonjay said.

“You make it sound so simple. I suppose I could have politely asked Compost to free us when he captured us and imprisoned us in a garbage labyrinth,” Denzel responded sarcastically.

“Garbage labyrinth? That sounds nasty,” Sonjay said.

Denzel continued, “Maybe if I ask nicely then Compost and his army will pack up and head for the hills.”

“Remember to say please with a cherry on top,” Guhblorin suggested.

Sonjay squinted at Guhblorin, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Is that a geebaching?”

“No, no geebaching,” Guhblorin replied, looking behind him as if Sonjay might have referred to someone else. “I’m a wolf. A white wolf. Sissrath turned me into the appearance of a geebaching to punish me for biting his elbow. Look. See my wolf teeth?” Guhblorin opened his mouth to show his tiny crooked teeth.

“Those don’t look like wolf teeth,” Sonjay said suspiciously.

Guhblorin attempted to roar, but it sounded so feeble that Elena and Honeydew giggled. Sonjay cracked a smile. Guhblorin roared again. He sounded like a creaky gate.

Maia shot Guhblorin a stern look and warned, “That’s enough. You stop right now, you hear?”

Guhblorin bowed his head sheepishly and mumbled an incoherent apology.

“It is a geebaching,” Sonjay said incredulously.

“He’s OK,” Maia assured her brother. “His name is Guhblorin.”

“Is he tame?” Sonjay asked.

“Almost,” Denzel replied. “He’s a Dud.”

“Well, wow, that explains everything,” Sonjay responded in exasperation.

“Long story,” Denzel said.

“You’ll get used to him,” Honeydew promised. “So do you have some kind of a plan to convince Compost and his troops to go home?”

“Food,” Sonjay replied cryptically. “Show me their camp.”

“Let’s roll,” Denzel said as he shoved the flat rock back over the secret passageway.

Changing the Prophecy Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12 In the Dungeon

During their first few days of confinement in their cell in the dungeon, the captives developed a routine built around when the Corportons brought them meals. The food tasted surprisingly good and it appeared twice a day. The Corportons showed no interest in the captives and left them to their own devices, which suited them fine since they had plenty to keep them busy.

In the morning, before breakfast, Crumpet worked with Sonjay on practicing clearing his mind in preparation for conducting enchantments. After breakfast, Reggie insisted that everyone join him in his exercises. He had a work-out routine he did to stay fit. Bayard flew around the cell madly as the others did sit-ups, push-ups, jumping jacks, and danced to old R&B and Soul music that Reggie played on an ancient vinyl record player. Overweight and out of shape, Buttercup had difficulty with the exercise routine, but she valiantly tried to keep up. Sonjay enjoyed it. Without the exercise, he would have gone stir-crazy. He didn’t have the sort of disposition that leant itself to sitting still all day long.

After their work-out, Buttercup gave Sonjay lessons in the basic operation of enchantments while Crumpet studied the Mystical Book with Reggie. They received no lunch, but they had enough food left over from breakfast to munch on during the day, and always plenty of fruit for Bayard. In the early evening, their jailers brought them a large dinner. After they ate, they brainstormed ideas for making their escape. Reggie had a stationary bicycle and he would bike a mile on it every day before dinner and then Sonjay would bike a couple miles on it after dinner. Behind a screen there was a small bathroom with a sink, shower, and toilet. Reggie had negotiated a fairly comfortable living situation, which had made his life in the dungeon tolerable. The captives could tell the time by the nature of the light that entered the cell through a small window high up in the stone wall. They could not see out of it, but they relished the little sliver of sunshine it allowed into the cell.

At the end of the day, they talked and told stories, often until well after dark. Reggie could never get enough stories about his other children from Sonjay. Crumpet and Buttercup filled Sonjay in on things that had happened since his last visit to Faracadar. Reggie told the others everything he could think of that might be useful about Sissrath and the Corportons, and he told them about his years in confinement. Crumpet listened intently to everything Reggie had to say about the Mystical Book. Sonjay related for his father the adventures from his previous visit to Faracadar the year before. Reggie also wanted to hear about the world he had left behind and what was going on there. Sometimes, if Sonjay felt in the right mood, he would tell his father about his mother.

The restrictions on the use of enchantment within the cell made it impossible for Sonjay to actually attempt a real enchantment. He would follow the instructions provided by Buttercup or Crumpet to produce an enchantment, thinking all the right thoughts and concentrating as they instructed him, but nothing ever happened because of the restrictions within the cell, which frustrated him. He couldn’t tell if he had done the enchantment correctly or not.

Unbeknownst to his teachers, he secretly harbored the idea of locomotaporting out of the prison. Each night, Sonjay waited for the others to fall asleep, and then he concentrated on locomotaporting. He figured that he would have to teach himself how to do it, since Crumpet and Buttercup didn’t have the special skill needed for it. He feared that he would eventually transport part of himself somewhere and not have the ability to get back to the rest of himself left behind. He discovered by trial and error that he could locomotaport despite the restrictions on enchantment in the cell. He had no idea why that might be the case and he decided against discussing it with his cellmates. One night, he managed to lift a phantom version of himself out of his body by imagining his mind leaving the rest of him behind. He floated the phantom Sonjay, which looked like the real Sonjay but had no weight to it, up to the window of the cell.

As he looked out into the inky-blue night sky, spattered with the colorful bright stars of Faracadar, he attempted to touch the bars on the window, but his hand passed right through them as if made of fog. He realized that he had the power to sail out of the window if he chose, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. He looked down and saw his body stretched out on the rug on the floor of the cell and he didn’t feel confident that he could get back to his body if he left the room. He would have to overcome his fear and make a leap of faith eventually if he wanted to succeed at locomotaporting. The phantom self drifted back down to his body and merged with it. Bayard eyed him silently from his usual nighttime perch on Reggie’s desktop. Bayard’s silence made Sonjay even more uneasy. When a chatterbox of a parrot says nothing, it can set a person’s teeth on edge.

The very next day after Sonjay had nearly locomotaported out of the cell, Crumpet broached the subject that weighed most heavily on their minds. “It’s all good that we make use of our time in this cell, but we need to get out of here if we want to help save Faracadar,” he said.

“What do you have in mind?” Reggie asked.

“I need to see out,” Crumpet replied. Reggie and Sonjay looked up at the little window and Crumpet followed their line of sight. “Not like that,” Crumpet said. “I need to see what’s going on elsewhere in Faracadar, and that’s your department, Prophet.”

“I’ve shown you enough about the Mystical Book for you to understand that it doesn’t work that way,” Reggie reminded Crumpet. “The vision will manifest what it chooses and will not obey a directive from me.”

“Whatever it chooses to be important will be worth seeing. I think you should summon a prophetic vision,” Crumpet announced, as he crunched on a deep-fried goose-chicken eyeball, which was one of Sonjay’s favorite treats from Faracadar. His siblings did not share his tastes and they refused to eat the things.

“I might not succeed in summoning a vision. I can issue a call, but often I get no reply,” Reggie warned.

“At least give it a try,” Buttercup encouraged him. “Put out the call and see what happens.”

Reggie shrugged. He took a candle off a shelf, set it on his desk, and lit it. Crumpet sat down expectantly on the edge of Reggie’s bed and crossed his arms.

Reggie held a bundle of sage above the flame until it caught and then set it in a bowl. The scented smoke drifted upward in a steady stream as the sage bundle smoldered. Reggie opened the Mystical Book, found the page he wanted, and placed his hand gently on the page. “By fire, earth, air, water,” he intoned softly, “by music, metal, trees, whales, and truth…” His voice dropped and his words became unintelligible. He closed his eyes in concentration and rocked back and forth. Suddenly, flashes of rainbow colors shot out in all directions from his hand where it rested on the book.

“Awesome,” Sonjay said quietly. The color flashes of green, red, yellow, blue, orange, purple, and pink banged against the walls and shattered into fragments of brilliant color that bounced around the cell. They pinged against Sonjay’s skin in pleasant tingly bursts. Bayard attempted (without success) to catch them in his beak and eat them. Buttercup giggled. Oblivious to the light show, Reggie drifted upward out of his chair and floated above the desk, while his eyes remained closed and his hand stretched out in front of him as if it still touched the surface of the Mystical Book.

Bayard flew to the top of the cell, chasing fragments of colorful light. Sonjay observed his father floating in the air. After a few minutes, the color-flash fragments disappeared and Reggie floated back down. His hand returned to the page and he returned to the chair. His eyes fluttered open.

“That was hecka cool,” Sonjay told Reggie.

“What was?” Reggie asked.

“The colors, the light, the floating. You know,” Sonjay said.

Reggie cast him a puzzled look.

“Whoa,” Buttercup said. “You don’t know, do you? You’ve never seen what happens when you summon a prophecy from the book, have you?” Buttercup asked Reggie.

“What to do you mean?” Reggie asked.

“You made these blasts of colorful light fly all over the cell and they broke up when they hit the walls,” Sonjay informed his father.

“They shattered and bounced all over the place,” Crumpet said.

“And they bounced off of us,” Buttercup added.

“And made our skin go all tingly where they hit it. Bayard tried to eat the bits of colorful light,” Sonjay told his father, “which was pretty funny.”

“Funny,” Bayard repeated. “Funny, funny.”

“While the bits of colorful light flew around, with Bayard chasing them, you floated up in the air for a few minutes. Then you floated back down into your chair,” Sonjay concluded.

“Interesting,” Reggie responded to the account of the events surrounding his prophetic reading.

“What did you see?” Crumpet demanded.

“What did I see?” Reggie echoed. “I saw a group of children heading to a garden outside of Big House City. I think one of the children was Denzel, because he resembled me, and one was Maia, because she resembled Debbie. Does Maia wear her hair in a lot of braids?”

“Sure enough,” Sonjay replied. “Did she carry a drum slung over her shoulder?”

“She did,” Reggie continued, “and the boy who looked like me when I was young wore a flannel shirt and he had a big backpack. I also saw a girl with glasses and one long braid going down her back and another girl with straight black hair and I saw a little creature with orange hair all over its body. It might have been a geebaching, although I have never seen one in real life (only in books) so I don’t know for sure.”

“Those girls sound like Princess Honeydew and Maia’s friend Elena,” Sonjay informed him. “I wonder where Dosh is.”

“I wonder if the little creature with the orange hair could really be a geebaching,” Buttercup said.

“But the most important thing,” Reggie continued, with a new sense of urgency, “is that the children I saw are about to attempt to enter Big House City through a passageway that runs under the garden. The city is under siege. There is a large army at its gates. Your sister and brother and their friends are about to sneak into Big House City through a secret underground passageway. They plan to try to bring people out of the besieged city.”

“Trouble,” Bayard squawked. “Trouble, trouble.”

“Yes, trouble indeed,” Reggie agreed with Bayard. “The prophetic reading indicated that their plan won’t work. If they follow that path they will become trapped inside the city with the others. The result has not become fixed. If they can be stopped then a different thread of events will occur.”

“They can’t possibly believe they can sneak everyone out,” Crumpet said.

“And they can’t possibly sneak enough food in for the entire population of Big House City,” Buttercup pointed out.

“Or water,” Reggie added.

“They have water,” Buttercup informed him. “Deep wells inside the city provide water. But food must be running low by now.”

“The more immediate problem is that my children could become trapped inside this soon-to-be-starving city,” Reggie reminded them anxiously.

“What can we do about that?” Crumpet complained. “We’re locked in a dungeon.”

Sonjay cleared his throat self-consciously. “I might be able to do something.”

The others slowly turned to look at him appraisingly.

“I could maybe locomotaport there,” Sonjay said in a quiet voice. The others stared at him in stunned silence. “I’ve been practicing. Every night. I can leave my body, but I haven’t left the cell yet. The ban on enchantments doesn’t seem to prevent locomotaporting.”

“Interesting. Locomotaporting must be in a unique class of enchantment,” Crumpet conjectured.

“If you leave, can you get back?” Reggie asked.

Sonjay’s voice quavered as he replied, “I don’t know.” He turned to Buttercup and asked, “What happens if I can’t find my way back to my body?”

“Disembodied impairment,” Buttercup answered. She winced.

“That does not sound good.” Sonjay grimaced.

“Not good,” Bayard observed.

“You said it feather-top,” Buttercup agreed.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll call you back,” Crumpet said. “We’ll help you.”

“How come he can locomotaport from within the walls of this cell?” Reggie wondered aloud.

“No one has had the ability to locomotaport since Hazamon died. It’s not your normal kind of enchantment. Sissrath would not have even thought of preventing it, even if he could do so,” Crumpet speculated.

“Show us,” Buttercup demanded.

“What? Now?” Sonjay stammered.

“You betcha. Right now,” Buttercup insisted.

Sonjay obediently stretched out on the rug where he usually slept at night. His fingers trembled slightly as he placed his hands on his chest. He closed his eyes. His father knelt beside him and put a hand on Sonjay’s shoulder. Sonjay opened his eyes and looked up into his father’s face. “One more piece of information, son,” Reggie said. “This is important. The army outside the gates of Big House City is a reluctant army. They don’t want to be there. They would rather be at home with their families on their farms. It would not take much to turn them around.”

Sonjay nodded. “Thanks, Daddy,” he said. “Now you have to move away and not touch me or I won’t be able to go.”

Sonjay cleared his mind of clutter, as Buttercup had taught him, and felt the spirit presence filtering into his being. The phantom Sonjay emerged and began to float up to the window. The others could see the phantom self. They followed it with their eyes. Sonjay floated in front of the window and then he looked down at his body. The same old doubt and fear squeezed his heart. What if he could not get back? What if he lost his body? What was disembodied impairment? He began to drift back down to the rug. But Reggie called up to him, “There is a great enchanter inside of you, son. Bring it.”

Sonjay nodded once to his father and then resolutely floated through the wall and out of the cell. Bayard Rustin slipped easily between the bars of the window and flew after him.