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JOINING THE BATTLE

“It’s up to us,” Kale declared.

She looked from Toopka’s wide eyes and open mouth to Regidor’s serious expression.

“Regidor, tell Fenworth the blimmets are coming.”

“How?”

“Mindspeak. You can do it.”

Regidor dutifully closed his eyes and scrunched his face into his thinking grimace. A moment later his eyes popped open. “I did it!”

Kale hugged him and then dropped to her knees. She focused on the patch of worn floorboards in front of her and concentrated.

What should we do? If only Dar or Leetu were here.

Kale shook her head in frustration. “We have to think of a way to help.”

She looked from Toopka to Regidor. Both shrugged.

“Water,” Kale said as a memory struck her. “Fenworth drowned the blimmets when they attacked our camp.”

Regidor’s face brightened. “There’s water in the swamp.”

Kale nodded. “We have to figure how to dump it on them.”

“Buckets!” said Toopka, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

“Too small,” said Regidor.

“Weather,” said Kale.

“Weather?” Toopka’s and Regidor’s voices harmonized, with Regidor’s bass almost burying the little doneel’s squeal.

“Yes!” Kale clapped her hands together. “Fenworth used a storm.”

Regidor ran out of the room. His footsteps rapidly pounded through a hallway and then faded away as he ascended one of the many spiral staircases. Soon the soft tattoo thudded back through the hollow branch corridor, becoming louder as he jumped down the stairs. The meech returned to the common room, holding a huge volume bound in exquisite blue leather and two smaller tomes covered in what looked like moss.

“Weather spells.” He huffed as he dropped the heavy books on the short table between the sofa and the armchairs.

He opened one of the smaller volumes and leafed through the pages. Kale bent over the largest, running her finger down a lengthy table of contents. Toopka picked up the smallest and held it against her chest, her thin arms cradling the valuable book.

Tears swam in her eyes. “I can’t read,” she moaned.

Regidor curled a lip and spoke through clenched teeth. “That one has pictures.”

“Oh,” said Toopka and clambered onto the nearest chair. She nestled in and reverently opened the small book. “Ooh, pretty. A rainbow.”

“Look for something helpful,” barked Regidor.

“Dumping water,” she muttered, and with a scowl examined the pages.

In the book Kale held, the chapters were in alphabetical order. She thought about turning to “Chapter 3: Clouds,” but scanned further down. Hurricanes seemed too big for two apprentices who hadn’t even had one lesson from the master wizard. A short chapter, “Lightning,” attracted her attention just because it was short. She didn’t stop to figure out what “Noisy Weather” might be. “Rain” stood out in bold letters, but a title a few lines down caught her eye.

“Tornado!” Rapidly, she turned the pages, searching for number 549. Toopka slipped off the chair and hopped to her side.

Regidor cheered. “We can suck up water from the swamp and dump it on the blimmets.”

“Yes, yes!” Toopka jumped up and down, clapping her furry hands.

Kale found the chapter and began to read. A frown tightened her face.

“I don’t understand all of this,” she said.

“We don’t have to,” explained Regidor. “Fenworth says Wulder does all the work anyway. Being a wizard means understanding His creation and working with His universal laws. Fenworth says Wulder has systems for everything, and they always work.”

Kale shook her head, not bothering to ask for explanations. She kept reading. Toopka continued to hop beside her. Regidor moved to Kale’s other side to peer at the pages. She slowly skimmed the brown words in fancy script, faded by time.

“Here it is,” she jabbed her finger at a paragraph beginning with, Waterspouts are developed by creating a low pressure area over dense moisture and surrounding it with a strong circular wind.

“The swamps are dense moisture,” said Regidor.

“What’s a low pressure area?” asked Kale.

“I don’t know.”

“How do we make circular wind?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stirring!” said Toopka.

Her toenails clicked on the old wooden floor as she ran to the kitchen table. She brought back Librettowit’s abandoned tankard with a spoon and placed them on the table in front of Regidor.

“Stir!” she commanded.

Regidor grabbed the spoon and whirled it through the creamy white liquid. The sweet smell of mallow rose from the tankard.

Toopka climbed on the table and knelt, her head bent, nearly touching Regidor’s.

“See,” she said. “The middle is low, and the mallowsap is going round and round.”

Regidor nodded. “But I don’t see how this is going to help.”

“Just concentrate,” said Kale. “Imagine the wind going round and round over the swamp, just like the mallowsap in the cup.”

Toopka closed her eyes along with Kale and Regidor. In just a moment, Kale felt a burst of energy tingle along her spine. She opened her eyes to see Regidor’s eyes blink rapidly as if he had just felt something truly startling.

“Something happened,” he said.

Kale nodded, hoping he wouldn’t ask what happened, because she wasn’t sure.

She looked around the room. Everything seemed normal, from the glowing lightrocks to the small fire in the hearth.

“What do we do now?” Regidor asked.

Kale rubbed her sweaty palms over her breeches. “See if you can pick up from Fenworth’s mind what’s going on there. I’ll concentrate on the dragons.”

She reached with her mind to Gymn and found him hiding under a bush. Terror shook his little frame in fierce tremors, but it wasn’t the mordakleeps causing him to cower. A violent wind had plucked him from the sky and hurled him to the ground. Metta, too, sought refuge. She burrowed into the soft wood of a fallen log. Celisse flew rapidly away from the storm, climbing higher and higher, seeking safety.

“Oh no,” gasped Kale.

Regidor cast her an uneasy glance. “Fenworth is still concentrating on that dehydration spell.”

“Where are the blimmets?”

“Close, but they haven’t broken to the surface yet.”

“The winds are battering our friends.” Kale wrung her hands. “We didn’t think of that. The storm will kill the blimmets, but it might hurt Fenworth and everybody else.”

Regidor squinted as if he could see something far away. “The tornado is moving slowly, slower than the blimmets.”

“How do you know?”

Regidor shrugged his thin shoulders. “I can feel it. I can sense the movement of the blimmets, the commotion at the battlefield, and the tornado’s path.”

“What’s gonna happen?” Toopka squealed, bouncing on her toes and flapping her hands in front of her.

Regidor answered, “Tornadoes travel across the countryside and wipe out what’s in front of them.” He frowned at Kale. “Maybe we could stop it.”

Toopka wailed. “But we were gonna drop the water on the blimmets.”

“We can’t do both,” said Kale. “We can’t drown the blimmets without hurting our friends.”