Author: Cressida Cowell
Category: Humorous
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/cressida-cowell/page,13,50824-the_wizards_of_once.html
He was racked with seizure after seizure, where he was overcome with such shaking and delirium that he was not himself, but now he came to his senses for a second.
“What’s happening to me?” whispered Squeezjoos, and you could see the fear in his eyes. “Am I going to the dark side?”
“Of course not,” said Xar, and just as Squeezjoos fell back into a coma again he whispered so faintly Xar could barely hear it: “Xar will save me…” and put one tiny clawlike hand trustingly against Xar’s chest.
Xar would have to give Sychorax what she wanted…
At least Squeezjoos would live…
But then his father’s Magic would be in danger…
Xar was not a despairing person, but even he was beginning to run out of hope, when he heard footsteps and whispering in the corridor.
“You look in this one, Bodkin, I just can’t bear to…” said the voice of Wish.
“They’re here!” cried Bodkin’s voice as Bodkin’s face appeared in the grille.
There was a click, click, clicking noise, and CREEEAK—the heavy door of cell number 445 swung open.
Xar could never have imagined that he would be so astonishingly grateful and thankful to see two Warriors, one tall, skinny one and one little, limpy one. Even the sprites were delighted, somehow finding the energy to buzz excitedly, although they barely had the strength to fly now, and were lower and lower in the air, as if they had lead in their shoes.
“You came!” said Xar to Bodkin and Wish, so excited he even hugged them—who would ever have thought that Xar would hug a Warrior?
“Of course we came,” said Wish stoutly. “I said I would, didn’t I? I wouldn’t leave a friend in trouble like that…”
Xar agreed that she was an excellent friend, who had shown unexpected initiative, for a Warrior.
“How did you get in and how are you opening the doors?” asked Xar.
“Bodkin gave the sentry a sleeping draught,” said Wish. “And my mother dropped her key to the dungeons. How is Squeezjoos?”
She could see the little sprite shaking inside Xar’s waistcoat.
“He’s not doing well, I’m afraid…” said Xar as Wish unchained the snowcats with Queen Sychorax’s key, and the snowcats burst out excitedly. “We need to get him to the stone as fast as we can.”
But just as they were preparing to leave, Bumbleboozle zoomed like a little speedy midge streak of lightning in through the grille of the door in a state of the greatest alarm. She was thoroughly out of breath, for she had flown all the way from where she had been on lookout up at the entrance to the dungeons.
“Queen Sychorax!!!!!” she shrieked. “She’s coming!!!!”
16. A Really Bad Moment for Queen Sychorax to Turn Up
Queen Sychorax is coming?” said Bodkin, just about managing not to faint again.
“She mustn’t find me here!!” squealed Wish, absolutely petrified.
It was one thing to secretly decide that she wanted to be friends with a Wizard. It was quite another to be found by her mother in the act of not just sympathizing with the enemy, but also actively unlocking their cell and helping them escape.
“Don’t worry,” said Xar. “Hide, and I’ll deal with her… I’ll be polite this time, I promise. Give me the sword and lock the door behind you…”
“Be nice to her, Xar!” warned Wish, throwing Xar the Enchanted Sword.
“Trust me,” grinned Xar.
Bodkin and Wish ran out of the room and hid around the corner in desperate haste, for from the sound of her footsteps, Queen Sychorax was approaching at quite a speed.
She was coming to offer Xar one last chance to see sense and get his sprite to the Stone-That-Takes-Away-Magic in time to save his life. Surely even a Wizard boy with no conscience at all would not want his sprite to die? But Xar was proving to be unexpectedly obstinate.
She was alarmed to find that she had lost her key (luckily she had a spare) and furious to see her sentry fast asleep, and as soon as she set foot in the dungeon, she sensed something had gone wrong.
Queen Sychorax knew every noise that went on in her underground home. Every drip of water, every muffled moan from her prisoners, every tap of the guard, every flicker of candle, every line of song—ghost or sprite—was familiar to Queen Sychorax.
There was something awry, she knew it. She moved up from her normal glide to a most unaccustomed, actual RUN, so that her footsteps made quite a racket in those echoing corridors.
If Bumbleboozle had not warned them, Sychorax would have caught her daughter in the act of aiding and abetting the enemy.
But Bodkin and Wish had whisked around the corner in the nick of time, locking the door again behind them.
So when Queen Sychorax unlocked the door of cell number 445 and swept in with a regal swish of her rich red cloak, Xar was standing in the middle of the room, as if nothing had happened, the Enchanted Sword behind his back.
“What is going on?” panted Queen Sychorax.
“Nothing,” said Xar innocently.
“Hmmm,” wondered Queen Sychorax disbelievingly, her eyes ranging suspiciously all over Xar, for she did not trust him for one second.
“This is your last chance, Xar, son of Encanzo,” snapped Queen Sychorax. “I will not come back again tonight, and your sprite will be dead by morning. Where is my sword?”
“Would this be the sword that you are talking about?” said Xar thoughtfully, taking the sword out from behind his back.
Queen Sychorax went absolutely rigid with shock.
A low growling sounded behind her, and three enormous snowcats with teeth like kitchen knives were slowly, menacingly creeping out of the shadows.
“How were they unchained from the wall?” breathed Sychorax, as white as her dress. “Who brought you my key? And where did you get my sword?”
“Never you mind. But don’t move, Queen Sychorax,” said Xar, “or I will kill you with this sword!”
That beastly boy!
She should have brought guards with her… but the guards had thoroughly searched him, so she thought she was perfectly safe visiting an unarmed little boy and a few sprites, all safely locked up in her most secure cell. Sychorax’s hand crept toward her waistband, where her own sword was hanging.
“I said, don’t move,” said Xar, and there was a gleam in his eye that made Queen Sychorax halt. Wizards were generally a peaceable people, but Xar was not like most Wizards the queen had ever met.
“So, Xar, son of Encanzo,” spat Queen Sychorax, infuriated to find the tables had been turned on her. “What are you going to do now that you’ve burgled my sword?”
“I’m going to take my sprite to the Stone-That-Takes-Away-Magic,” said Xar, “and then I’m going to release the giants and other Magic prisoners that you have wickedly locked up here, and we can all escape from this fort of dullness and iron turnip-heads and go back to Wizard camp, where we belong.”
“You will be arrested as soon as you leave these dungeons,” said Queen Sychorax. “Giants are rather visible, and this fort is swarming with guards.”
“But you’re a tricky wicked queen with a lot of secrets,” said Xar, “so I bet you have a secret exit from these dungeons, and a secret password too.”
“Perhaps I do,” said Queen Sychorax drily, “but it is highly unlikely I would tell you about either, in the circumstances.”
“How about if I strike you a bargain, just like you offered me one,” said Xar craftily. “If you tell me the way to the chamber of Magic-removal and the way to the secret exit, and also the secret password, I will leave you this sword.”
Queen Sychorax was delighted, although she didn’t show it. She really, really wanted that sword, especially now that Witches had returned to the forest. The boy thought he was so clever, but he obviously didn’t realize the importance of that particular Enchanted Sword to offer it up so easily…
“I accept your bargain,” said Queen Sychorax smoothly. “The way to the chamber of Magic-remova
l is—”
“Ohhh no…” interrupted Xar. “No, no, no, please stop right there, Queen Sychorax.”
He reached into his waistcoat and withdrew a small bottle. “Apparently, queens can tell lies—in pursuit of a higher good, of course. So I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me the answer while holding the ‘Love-Never-Lies’ potion, so I know you are telling me the truth.”
Queen Sychorax gave him a look of the purest dislike.
Xar handed her the “Love-Never-Lies” potion.
“The way to the chamber of Magic-removal is to turn right and go down the corridor, and it’s the seventh door in the great cavern. And from there you can reach the secret exit by turning LEFT at every second turning, and the secret password is CONTROL,” said Queen Sychorax.
Xar made her say it twice, to check the love potion wasn’t changing color.
But it remained red, so she must be telling him the truth.
He took the “Love-Never-Lies” potion from her.
“And now I’ll leave you the sword,” said Xar, holding up the “Love-Never-Lies” potion, so that Queen Sychorax could see it clearly.
And as soon as he said those words, the liquid inside turned blacker than soot.
“Whoops,” said Xar happily. “Dear oh dear! How confusing!
“It appears that I was lying!” Xar grinned. “It’s so difficult to keep up, isn’t it?”
TRICKED!
The horrible little Wizard boy had tricked Sychorax into giving him the secret password and he was going to take the sword anyway!
It is always annoying for a very tricky person like Queen Sychorax to finally meet someone even trickier than herself.
So Queen Sychorax lost her temper. It was most unlike her, but it had been a trying day.
“You rude, lying, disobedient trickster of a boy!” shouted Queen Sychorax.
“Now, now,” tutted Xar. “Be polite, Queen Sychorax. Insults will get you nowhere. Please, could you very kindly lend me your keys, and your cloak as well? I think it will be helpful for me to disguise myself as you so that your guards let us leave without a fuss.Thank you so much.”
With gritted teeth, Queen Sychorax handed him her keys to all the cells and her very distinctive bright red cloak, lined snugly with royal black-and-white fur.
“You have to admit,” continued Xar, putting Queen Sychorax’s magnificent cloak around his shoulders, “a boy of destiny like me does need a really cool weapon that is Magic-mixed-with-iron… I’m not surprised you’re so keen on this sword—it’s something quite out of the ordinary.”
Sychorax gave a smile made out of icicles.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to lock you in your own cell,” said Xar apologetically. “It’s not exactly suitable for royalty. But you are a very wicked queen to have taken away the Magic of my people, and kept us prisoners, and threatened to kill my sprite. You need to be taught a lesson, and that is what a prison is for.”
“Can I do her hair, Xar?” begged Bumbleboozle. “Please can I do her hair? She’s been so mean to poor Squeezjoos…”
“Oh, all right,” said Xar. “But do it gently.”
Bumbleboozle flew into the queen’s hair, and in two snaps of a ladybird’s wing, she had whipped it up into a creatively complicated rats’ nest of tangles. Sychorax was standing absolutely still, and white and bone-deadly with anger.
Bumbleboozle buzzed backward to survey her handiwork with satisfaction.
Above Sychorax’s pointed-with-freezing-rage face, so dignified, so regal, so tidy, so furious, her beautiful pure waterfall of controlled golden tresses was now shooting upward in a vertical mess of scrambled electricity, like a furball having a fit.
“Oohhhh… that’s good, very good,” hissed Tiffinstorm in malicious delight, and the sprites nearly fell out of the air, they were laughing so hard. “Those elf-locks will take weeks to brush out.”
“And while you are brushing them, it will help you remember,” cautioned Xar, “to leave us Magic people alone in the future.”
“And I warn you,” spat Queen Sychorax, every word a cold white arrow, “never to set foot in my territory ever again. Or by the gods of the trees and water, I swear I shall make you regret it…”
“You’ll have to catch me first,” grinned Xar. Then he said, “Good-bye, Queen Sychorax,” giving her a very low bow, and he and Caliburn and the snowcats and the sprites swept toward the door, Xar with a very satisfactory royal swish of Sychorax’s own cloak.
Just as Xar was about to leave the chamber, he had a thought, and he turned.
“Er… by the way… I didn’t really mean it about being soft,” said Xar. “You are just as tough as a Warrior queen ought to be.”
He ran out the door, and Bodkin, waiting hidden by the doorway, locked the door of the chamber behind him.
Leaving Sychorax all alone in cell number 445, thoughtfully adjusting her armor.
She had a lot to think about.
“You were very mean to my mother!” scolded Wish, once they were out of earshot.
“I was very polite!” protested Xar. “I said nice things about how tough she was!”
“You said she was a very wicked queen! And Bumbleboozle really messed up her HAIR!” said Wish in awed horror. “She’s going to be absolutely hopping mad, isn’t she, Bodkin?”
“Absolutely hopping,” said Bodkin gloomily.
“I was very merciful…” said Xar. “If she wasn’t your mother, I’d have killed her. Now, what did she say again about the way to the chamber of Magic-removal?”
“Right down this corridor, and then it’s the seventh door in the great cavern,” said Bodkin promptly.
They were riding on the backs of the snowcats, down through corridors that led them deeper, ever deeper underground, so low that the air was shiveringly cold, and a trembling Wish lay down farther and farther into Forestheart’s thick fur coat.
Xar could feel that Squeezjoos had gone rigid inside the package above his heart. If they didn’t get him to this stone quickly, they would lose him entirely.
The corridor eventually opened up into a great cavern, lit by flickering torchlight.
Tiffinstorm gave a horrified hiss and ducked behind Xar.
“It’sssss over there…” she hissed.
There were seven doors leading off the cavern, and the seventh door had a faded sign above it saying: CHAMBER OF MAGIC-REMOVAL.
The doorway was crooked and not as large as they might have expected. If a giant wanted its Magic removed, it would have to lie down in the cavern and stretch its arm through the door.
A strange magnetic force seemed to want to pull Xar toward that crooked door, like an ice-cold wind tugging him, and then he realized it was the sword hanging beside him twisting around and pointing at the door as if it were an iron finger.
Every single instinct in Xar’s bones was telling him: “Run away… Go no farther… Stop here…”
Nighteye and Forestheart and Kingcat paced in anxious circles, growling and spitting and howling.
“Don’tgoINthere, don’tgoINthere, don’tgoINthere, don’tgoINthere,” hissed the sprites.
“But we have to go in,” said Wish, getting down off Forestheart’s back.
“For the sake of the sprite,” said Xar, springing off Kingcat.
Wish put the key in the keyhole, and the door to Sychorax’s chamber of Magic-removal swung open.
17. Queen Sychorax’s Chamber of Magic-Removal
The chamber of Magic-removal had a very high ceiling and it was perfectly round.
The only thing in it was a stone.
The stone was a dark gray.
It was just an ordinary but unbelievably large stone.
Rough around the edges, like solidified lava.
“Is THAT the Stone-That-Takes-Away-Magic?” asked Xar in disbelief, for there didn’t seem anything particularly scary about it.
But the sprites and the animals were more sensitive to the strange atmosphere in the r
oom, and they hissed like hornets in their anxiety, and the snowcats restlessly padded around the circular room, their hair all on end.
Xar reached into his breast pocket and took out Squeezjoos, rigid as a dark green jewel, his breath like tiny green icicles rattling stiffly in his paralyzed body. His light was dying, dying, and barely there, growing fainter and fainter like his breathing.
“Now you have to put him on the stone,” said Wish.
“You sssshould not do this, Xar,” hissed Ariel, holding up his skinny arms and spitting out a warning. “You have to lisssssten to the stories of the fairies, sssssstories from our ancient past—the fairy talesss have wisdom in them…”
Mustardthought finished Ariel’s sentence: “… and all the fairy tales say: DO NOT TOUCH THE SSSSTONE.”
“My father’s father’s father told me in a story, NEVER to touch this stone, Xar…” said Tiffinstorm. And the other sprites echoed: “And mine, and mine, and mine…”
And the walls of the chamber echoed back the words that might have been the words of these sprites, or they could have been the ghost-words of sprites who had been here once and faced the same choices in the past: “And mine, and mine, and mine…”
“The sprites are right,” said Caliburn nervously. “You do have to listen to the stories, for stories always mean something. The question that worries me is: WHAT exactly do they mean?”
Now that they were there, in front of the stone, confronted with the reality of actually touching it, Xar found he was terribly torn about what to do next.
The voice of the Once-sprite was singing bright and pure as a nightingale somewhere in the darkness above them—of his regret at the loss of his Magic, of how his wings that used to brush the very stars on a windy winter’s night were now paralyzed—and the yearning ache of that song reminded them all exactly how big a decision this was.
Xar always knew what to do.
But for once in his life… he wasn’t sure.
“What shall I do?” said Xar, in an agony of indecision. “Maybe Squeezjoos would actually prefer to go to the dark side, rather than give up his Magic entirely. Perhaps he’d think it would be better to die, if it will mean he cannot fly!”