7. In Which We Almost Die and Someone...Well, You'll See
I stared in horror as the white shape grew larger and larger as it came closer and closer. Before long it was so huge it blocked out the sky, at which point my instincts kicked in and I scrambled for cover. I spotted a prickly bush at the foot of the nearest tree and shot towards it, lightning quick as all cats are.
But just as I dashed under the bush, only my tail still in view, I heard a screech. Thinking it had me, I whirled around to scratch, bite, and do anything to defend myself when I saw it wasn't there at all. I turned my gaze up and saw the monster caught in the branches of the tall trees, its wings having been too wide to fit past them.
White feathers the size of a person fluttered--well, feathers that big don't exactly flutter--but they were everywhere; one knocked Olemer off his feet. But at least we were safe from the snapping beak and sharp talons of the bird.
Brandel and Olemer both began creeping toward the monstrous creature; it watched them with golden eyes, the pupils alone as wide as a dinner platter, forget the plate. The bird screeched again and struggled vainly to free itself from the trees' clutches. I stayed by the bush, seeing no reason to risk my life in the pointless approach toward a feathered menace. Sure, it was trapped, but how long would that last?
Brandel had gotten near enough to reach out and touch its scaly leg. Bad idea. He ducked quickly to avoid having his head taken off by four deadly talons. The fire-witch wisely retreated to just beyond their reach.
"What is it?" I demanded of Brandel, but was surprised when Olemer answered, "It's a roc." I was amazed to find that he knew something useful.
Apparently he noticed my startled expression because he added haughtily, "All princes are trained on the types of monsters and how to fight them." I should have known. Damsels in distress and all that.
"In that case, what should we do with the roc, Prince?" Brandel challenged.
"Well...uhhh...well you see, rocs are usually only found far in the south, so they really didn't go into much detail--"
"Why am I not surprised!" I exclaimed, once again lamenting being stranded with Olemer, of all possible people.
Brandel smirked, Olemer's reply confirming all his expectations. "I have a trick or two up my sleeve I can use on the roc. We could kill it, but it might come in handy...give me a minute free of distraction, will you."
"Of course."
Sparks erupted from Brandel's fingers and began to twine themselves into long strands which in turn twisted around each other to form a long orange rope giving off a fiery glow. I imagined what it would look like at night.
When Olemer first saw the rope begin to come together he opened his mouth to comment but was silenced by one of my best glares. I'd seen the concentration in Brandel's face and didn't give a dead leaf for the prince's safety if he interrupted the enchantment. Though Olemer was a nuisance, he was essential to defeating the wizards.
The flaming cord wound itself around the distressed roc's wings and legs, firmly binding it and making me feel much better.
"Now that's done we can go inside." We followed Brandel to the gnarled roots of a large tree. Inside what? The tree was big, but not that big. Then the fire-witch spoke a word under his breath; it sounded something like Spitzrif, and the ground disappeared.
We plunged into earth-smelling blackness and hit something hard; the ground, I supposed, though I thought that had disappeared. Then blazing light burst from the walls, or rather torches on the walls, as I was able to see when my head stopped spinning enough to look.
We had fallen into a large earthy cavern hollowed out underneath the tree (I could tell from the roots all around the walls and digging into my stomach). The floor was paved in flat grey stones and the torches hung from iron brackets attached to the twisting roots. A few shafts of sunlight slanted in through narrow apertures near the roof framed by carved wooden shutters. On the back wall of the cavern were two arched doors, also made of carved wood. The room was cluttered with papers and little odds and ends stacked carelessly on shelves, though in some places the mess had been neatly organized into piles, as if someone had started cleaning but gave up part-way through.
"Welcome to my home," Brandel announced grandly. "After my bad luck in that tower I decided to try the opposite--underground."
"Do you always get in that way?" I asked.
"I've gotten used to it over the years; it takes time but you eventually learn to land on your feet."
"I did land on my feet; cats always do," I informed him as I began licking my paw and cleaning my face.
"Oh, right. Well, sometimes I use the back door; it's easier but farther away. So what's this quest of yours? You said Morwen's your witch? And you're with Kazul? Or were, anyway. Oh, have a seat," he added when he noticed we were still in a heap by the...doorway, if you could call it that.
Olemer picked himself up and followed me over to the roughhewn wooden table in the middle of the cavern. A black and white cat lay sprawled across the surface.
"Off the table, Julius."
The cat opened one eye and asked, "Why?"
"Because we have things to discuss and you're in the way."
Julius took his time, but eventually dropped onto the floor and sauntered over to a cushioned chair, waving his tail at Brandel to show he was only moving because it suited him.
"Now, down to—Don't touch that!" Brandel snapped. I turned to see Olemer sticking his nose perilously close to a tall glass vase perched on one of the shelves. He jerked back guiltily at the reprimand and cowered under the fire-witch's glare.
"Well, sit down then. If you think you can avoid breaking the table."
The prince took a seat as far from Brandel as he could, and I started explaining the situation.
"We're on a quest for the Royal Stick," Brandel raised his eyebrows, "and there were eight of us, Prince Daystar, Prince Olemer, Kazul, her princess Shiara, Morwen, Fiddlesticks, a fairy, and me. We set out because—"
"The wizards took my throne," Olemer interrupted, "and we need the Royal Stick to get it back."
"Yes. And the wizards are sucking up leftover magic up north, which is what started all the trouble in the first place." Brandel looked confused, which I guess wasn't surprising; I was having trouble explaining in order. So I started from the beginning, telling everything that had happened since Daystar came to the grey house to talk to Telemain; I struggled along through several interruptions from Olemer, telling of his negligible part in the tale.
But when I came to the part where Fiddlesticks joined us I realized something. It had been far too long since I'd heard the other cat's random interjections. I broke off when I saw he wasn't at the table.
"Where's Fiddlesticks?"
"I haven't seen him in a while," was Olemer's reply.
"Blast! Just what we need, another person gone missing!"
"Maybe he's still up above," Brandel suggested. So I dashed over to the entrance and jumped through the open trapdoor, and missed. It was just too high, and I slid miserably back down the earthen wall. "How exactly do we get out?"
Instead of answering, Brandel walked straight over to a ladder of roots that I had missed because it was in the shadows. He and Olemer climbed out and I followed as best I could, since ladders were not made for paws.
"Why didn't we use that going down?" Olemer asked.
"Because you have to be standing on the door for the keyword to work, and I don't know if you've ever tried, but it's rather difficult trying to catch the rungs of a ladder while you're falling."
"Oh. I've never tried that."
Well, we were up above. There was the roc off to the left and trees everywhere else. No Fiddlesticks. What did you expect?