Behind the Curtain Page 3

  He reached into the box again and pulled out a pair of soft, pliable leather boots. He tied them up snug; they came up to just below his knees.

  “Do you still see an old woman and a crow, Rowdy?” Granny asked quietly, her gaze following his every movement. She stood back in the shadows, watching him intently.

  Rowdy didn’t answer. He was pulling a long silver knife out of the leather sheath. It had a worn and comfortable handle. He felt the weight of it and held the blade up. He watched, transfixed, as the shiny edge of the blade collected the candlelight until it glowed orange so bright he closed his eyes against it. The light blazed behind his closed lids, then disappeared.

  Tentatively, he opened one eye and peeked out. The knife in his hand was no longer glowing. He opened both eyes and looked up, stifling a scream of alarm.

  His granny and the crow were gone.

  He blinked and looked around him, his heart beating wildly. He squeezed the handle of his knife, feeling sweat prickling out along his forehead. The boxes behind him were gone, replaced with tall glass vases full of glowing marbles, the kind he had seen in the crow’s beak the night before. Strings upon strings of gems gleamed along the walls, rubies and emeralds, diamonds and sapphires, glittering in the candlelight. He closed his eyes and listened. He thought he heard them singing.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he heard Granny say. He looked across the room to see two stunningly beautiful women, one small with long blonde hair and the other tall with long raven-black hair.

  Rowdy was too unnerved to utter a sound.

  The raven-haired woman was the crow lady; he recognized her white skin and full red lips. She was leaning against the wooden table, her slender white hands folded gently in her lap. Her black eyes danced. She smiled warmly at him.

  “Hello, young man,” she said in a low, smooth voice.

  “Hello,” he stammered, nodding dumbly at her.

  The small blonde woman stepped out of the shadows and moved toward him. She was beautiful with silky hair and a flowing white gown. He looked into her crystal eyes and gasped.

  “Granny?” he whispered.

  She nodded and giggled. “Welcome to Sionnin, Rowdy.” She reached her smooth young hand out to him, nodding toward the heavy curtain.

  “How are you so young?” he whispered, transfixed by her beauty.

  “I’m a sorceress of Sionnin. I will not age here. Come.”

  Rowdy gulped. He didn’t know if he could handle any more excitement. He followed Granny, feeling dread as they approached the heavy curtain again.

  “I think you will see clearly this time.”

  Granny pulled the curtain back to reveal a vast, snowy wasteland far below them. The land seemed to have no boundaries; it looked cold and desolate, uninhabited. There was very little vegetation, nor any kind of break in the snow-covered terrain. The sky was dull and lifeless. He shivered as the curtain fell back into place.

  “How can we be so high up?” he whispered in awe.

  “We are at the top of a very tall tree on the fringes of the world of Sionnin,” Granny answered matter-of-factly, turning toward the raven-haired woman, who was still studying Rowdy with adoration. She rested her chin on her hand and observed him quietly.

  “Rose is your aunt. She is my daughter and your father’s sister.”

  Rose nodded at him, the corners of her red lips twitching.

  Rowdy shook his head in disagreement. “My dad’s sister disappeared when she was a little girl,” he began stupidly. Then he stopped and decided he didn’t know anything. He would have to just listen from now on.

  Granny and Rose exchanged glances.

  “I know this is a lot to take in all at once,” Granny said, “but at least we know you can get here. Your ticket in is that knife. Everyone is different. For your dad it was a liathroid.” Granny walked to a tall vase of marbles and picked one up. She gave it to Rowdy.

  “Hold it up to the light, dear.”

  Rowdy held the marble up to the light. Inside, it was snowing.

  “Liathroid,” he said. “This is incredible. It’s snowing in there!” He stared at it in awe. It was made of thick glass and had some weight to it.

  “The liathroids reflect what is happening in Sionnin. They are one of the few things that can travel between both worlds without changing form. They are ancient. They are important to wizards, providing them with warmth, light, and healing powers.” Granny held out her hand, and he dropped the liathroid into it, his head swimming with questions.

  Granny continued, pacing back and forth, rolling the liathroid between her fingers. “The wizard in power is very evil. It has been snowing in Sionnin for hundreds of years under his reign. Rose has been collecting them since she was young. She has an excellent eye and can cover a lot of land with her wings.”

  Rowdy looked at the vases along the wall. They were brimming with liathroids. He wondered how many there were to collect.

  “What is the wizard called, Granny?” he asked, realizing the brown boxes in the regular world were full of these fascinating little orbs.

  Granny stopped pacing and looked at him sternly.

  “We don’t say his name in this world. We also keep this a secret. And we keep the door locked when we are in the regular world to protect the liathroids.”

  Rowdy nodded solemnly.

  Granny’s face softened, and she sighed, looking over at Rose.

  “There is too much to explain in one night. Here is the first part of the plan: Rose is going to train you in the regular world. You have two weeks of spring break coming up. You have two weeks to eat, sleep, and build yourself up. You are a bag of bones, Rowdy, and that needs to change. You must trust us and abide by our rules.”

  Rowdy looked into the crystal eyes and then into the black, mysterious ones. He felt as though he was making a very serious commitment. He took a breath, squeezing the handle of his knife in his sweaty palm.

  “You have my word,” he said with solemnity.

  Rose nodded at him encouragingly. Then, with a blaze of blinding purple light, she turned back into a crow. Granny reached over and pushed the window open. Rose disappeared into the frozen wasteland of Sionnin.

  There was a silence in the room then. Rowdy’s mind was full of questions that Granny couldn’t possibly answer in one night. He followed her to the top of the stairs.

  “I will wait for you to transport,” Granny said, nodding toward his knife. Even as she spoke, her blonde hair was turning white and the lines on her face were appearing and deepening. The power in her eyes remained strong and steady. Though the flesh of her lips shrank away, the mischievous expression around them didn’t change.

  Rowdy nodded and held his knife up to the candlelight. He watched the flames flicker along the shiny edge like molten lava and closed his eyes against the orange blaze.

  He opened his eyes to the regular world. The glass vases behind him were brown boxes full of liathroids. The precious, glittering gems were gone from the walls. And yet, he still had his leather belt, boots, and knife.

  He slipped the knife swiftly into its sheath to block it from the candlelight. He ran his fingers around the belt, admiring the soft leather once again.

  Granny answered his next question before he could ask.

  “That leather was made from the hide of a dead wizard named Boc a long, long time ago. His successor cast a spell on it and gave it to your father when he was a boy.”

  A human hide? Rowdy felt sick and hastily removed the belt.

  Granny giggled as she made her way down the stairs, her long white braid swinging.

  “Wizard Boc was a powerful saber-toothed tiger, Rowdy. His reign was long and glorious. Under his guidance and protection, the inhabitants of Sionnin thrived. The seasons turned on time. Food and water were abundant.”

  Granny opened the door and paused. She looked up the stairs and blinked. Rowdy saw the lights go out. She had snuffed the candles ou
t with her eyes.

  “Granny!” Rowdy exclaimed. “What else can you do?”

  Granny locked the door in the dim light. She turned toward the kitchen. Rowdy followed excitedly on her heels, hoping to see another magic trick.

  “My powers are very limited in this world,” she answered, opening a cupboard and sticking her head into it. She began rattling about in search of something.

  Rowdy wanted to hear more about the liathroids and Wizard Boc, the saber-toothed tiger whose magical hide made his fingertips tingle.

  “How did Wizard Boc die?” Rowdy asked over the noise Granny was making. She held a jar up with a satisfied smile. Then she picked out some bones from around the window.

  “Old age,” Granny said. She brought some water to a boil on the stove with a snap of her fingers, peeking up playfully to see if Rowdy had seen it.

  He had and found himself clapping with enthusiasm.

  Granny giggled. She placed the bones into the bubbles slowly, one at a time. She sprinkled something out of the jar and focused on its reaction in the water.

  She nodded approvingly, then turned back to him.

  “Wizard Boc lived for 364 years. He was frail when his spirit departed Sionnin. His body was scarred from head to toe. The whole land celebrated him that day so long ago. For all the blissful years under Boc’s rule, the liathroids were kept under a guard’s watch in Boc’s cave. When he died, the animals of Sionnin were given the task of carrying them to the Great Mountain for the next good wizard. That was when evil fell across the land and the spheres were left scattered. Rose and I hope to bring them to Sionnin as an offering of our devotion when peace is restored.” Granny frowned. “If peace is restored.”

  She turned back toward the stove and snapped her fingers at it. The boiling water became still. She poured the potion into one of her ridiculous homemade mugs and put it in front of Rowdy.

  “Hold out your hand, dear,” she said, and he did. She sprinkled black tea leaves into his palm, her crystal eyes sparkling with excitement. She rubbed her hands together gleefully like a little girl.

  “Go on now, sprinkle the leaves into your cup and tell me what you see!”

  Rowdy shrugged and tossed the leaves onto the murky water in his cup. He looked at the leaves twirling around getting soggy.

  Suddenly, to his great surprise, a white mouse poked its nose out of the water and looked at him, then dipped back under the surface.

  Rowdy reacted with a yelp.

  “Granny, there’s a mouse in here! We have to get him out! He will drown!” He hopped up, ran to the sink, and poured the mixture out. To his amazement, there was no mouse in his cup. He looked in the cup again and in the sink and around the kitchen.

  Granny was laughing. There were tears in her eyes. Her hand was pressed against her belly.

  “A mouse!” She squeaked. “Oh dear, you will make such a handsome little mouse!” She burst into a fresh fit of giggles.

  Rowdy furrowed his brow at her. What did she mean he would make a handsome mouse?

  Granny caught her breath and grew a bit more serious. “This does change a few things…” She tapped her finger thoughtfully, then met his eyes.

  “Ah, perhaps I should explain, dear. And goodness, then it is straight to bed with you. You have a big day tomorrow!”

  “Sleep? How could I possibly sleep after all of this?”

  Granny winked at him and pulled a slice of baked bread out. She spread butter on top and dusted it with something out of one of her little jars. “Creatures in Sionnin can change shape. It is up to the magic to decide what shape. You see, in Sionnin, the greater the magical power one holds, the bigger and stronger the animal form they inhabit. Wizards and sorceresses are the only ones who are born in human form. They are born with their great power. A creature who practices magic may begin as a frog and end up as a pig or a pony.”

  Rowdy reached up to accept the bread from his granny. “Thanks,” he said, taking big bites. “I guess it makes sense I’m a mouse, huh?”

  Rowdy’s last memory of that long, magical day was the sound of his granny’s laughter.

  Chapter 3

  Training Days

  Rowdy awoke to the sound of a squawking crow. His eyes felt tired and heavy. He ignored the sound and rolled over onto his side, his eyelids closing and his dreams coming back to embrace him.

  He heard Rose shuffle her leathery black feet across the coffee table beside his couch. Before he could react, he felt her thick black beak in his ear, and she squawked again. Shocked, he sat bolt upright.

  He looked around him, blinking; his cowlick bounced on his head. He stretched and looked at Rose. It was hard for him to know how to address a crow who was actually his beautiful aunt.

  He settled on, “Good morning,” pulling his feet out of the blankets and searching for his socks.

  Rose blinked at him and nodded. She flew over to the dining room to wait for him.

  Granny was bustling more than usual. A pretty purple scarf was tied around her face; a plum-colored shawl lay around her shoulders.

  “You’re going out,” Rowdy observed, taking a seat at the table. His breakfast was smaller and plainer than usual today. It was a bowl of porridge.

  Rowdy dove into it, no longer questioning his granny’s methods, as agreed upon.

  “I am off to check on your father, dear, then to find the last item on my Spring Preparations list.” She bent over him, smoothing down his cowlick with her hand while pecking him on the forehead. “Follow Rose. Work hard. And if either of you come across a four-leaf clover, please take action to bring it safely back to me.”

  Suddenly Granny was gone and it was quiet, aside from the sound of Rowdy’s spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

  When Rowdy brought his bowl to the sink, Rose flapped behind him and landed on a colorful mug. She perched uncomfortably on its handle and blinked at him. He studied her thoughtfully as he sifted through everything he had learned the night before.

  “Why are you not in your human form in the regular world? You know, like Granny is?” He reached to stroke her ruffled chest feathers but pulled his hand back when Rose shrieked at him. She stamped her foot and blinked at him.

  Rowdy nodded and picked up the mug. He filled it with water and drank it down. He then went to the bathroom, and when he got back, Rose was perched on his shoes, staring at him with her black marble eyes.

  Rowdy chuckled and slipped his scruffy sneakers on. He opened the door to an early spring day complete with cool air, grassy fragrances, and busy birds.

  Rose bolted ahead of him, flying low, squawking. He shook his head and broke into a jog behind her, keeping one eye on her tail feathers and one eye on the uneven terrain beneath his feet.

  The sky was open and blue as he followed her up and over the small hill behind his granny’s house. It was an area he hadn’t explored yet, as he tended to stick to the bicycle-friendly routes.

  Now, with the cool air on his face and his blood pumping in his ears, he mastered a second small hill with eagerness and curiosity.

  He followed Rose to a faded dirt road covered with last autumn’s brown weeds and small patches of crusty old snow.

  Rowdy paused to look around himself. There were no houses or people anywhere. To his left was a creaky gate with a sign on it that said PRIVATE PROPERTY. Beyond the gate, he saw rusty pieces of old farm equipment reaching dangerously out of the overgrown weeds like metal claws.

  Rowdy jumped and squealed as Rose hit him on the head with her beak. She squawked and flew ahead.

  “Okay, okay!” he grumbled, picking up the pace from walking to jogging to running. They followed the old road for some time. A forest of pine and fir trees ran along one edge; the other was open to a huge expanse of flat land covered in dry brown weeds. Rowdy saw new green plants growing among the weeds. He thought he heard mice scrabbling about.

  Spring was springing all around him. The cool, fresh
air filled his lungs and cleared his mind. It seemed to reach into his cells to cleanse him from the inside out. He felt stirred up.

  He also felt tired, sweaty, and thirsty.

  He slowed into a rhythmic jog, and before he could start whining to Rose, the crow took a sudden turn into the forest. She led him along a wet, mossy deer trail until he felt that he could not run anymore.

  She stopped at a small opening in the trees, settling on a low branch nearby to watch him.

  As soon as he stopped jogging and his loud breathing slowed, he heard the trickle of water. He looked around him. The ground under his shoes was muddy, wet, and still snowy. The trees around him were still. They were in the shadows. Rowdy looked up to see the spring sun far above, still finding its way down to them. Beside him was a tall, flat rock with bits of new moss taking hold here and there.

  Running down the rock was a thin stream of sparkling water.

  He pressed his face against the cold rock gratefully. He slurped the water and inhaled its ancient aroma, enjoying the cold on his hot cheeks. He pressed his hands into the mossy crevices, letting the water trickle between his fingers.

  He felt so satisfied and alive, so safe and comforted, that suddenly he was thinking only of his mother. He squeezed the rock tighter and closed his eyes. He pressed his face harder against the cool, hard surface of the rock, his mouth filling with the taste of salt.

  The sound of his wailing resonating through the forest brought him to his senses. He was on his knees with his nose and eyes running, his hand now gripping his chest, trying to reach his aching heart.

  He remained crouched there for a while, getting his breath back, wrestling with the weight of his burden, staring at the forest floor without focus, until Rose appeared in front of him. She dropped a cloth bag of food on the ground. She lifted one of her big black feet and sort of pawed at Rowdy’s hand.

  The distraction relieved him. He felt less empty knowing his aunt understood him. She rested her toes on his wrist and cocked her head to the side, blinking.

  Rowdy chuckled. He reached up slowly and gently petted the top of the crow’s head with his index finger.