Monday started us on a new Wizard Whittlestrom story. If you missed it, click on part one to the left in the side bar and then return here.
Otherwise, thanks for stopping by and enjoy!
Wizard’s Justice Part 2
They asked directions from a vendor. The man looked at them like they were insane.
“Next to the bakery,” he said, “in a plum colored cottage. Can’t miss it.”
Pete bounced beside Papa imagining living in a plum colored house. Of course Wizard Whittlestrom lived in a plum colored house. It was awesome!
They rounded a corner and Pete jumped and pointed.
The vendor had been right. Sitting smack in the middle of shops and tall houses of wood and brick squatted a deep purple cottage with yellow flowers out front.
In the yard knelt a woman.
“That must be Wizard Whittlestrom’s Missis,” Pete exclaimed.
Papa gave an ‘oh, dear’ and his mouth turned down at the corners.
Pete’s stomach sank. That was Papa’s ‘I’m having second thoughts’ face.
Before Papa could change his mind, Pete ran forward, calling,
“Mrs. Whittlestrom? Mrs…”
She stood and turned just as Pete reached the gate.
Then there was a Kaboom! And Pete saw her feet leave the ground just before something hit him and he flew backwards.
He landed on his back with a whoosh and something smacked his stomach as debris fell around him.
It was a moment before air returned to him and then it whistled through his tight throat. He turned his head to see what hit his stomach.
A stick. A black stick with some sort of black sugar leaking out one side.
Pete sat up and couldn’t help the sob that came from his mouth. He hurt but there wasn’t blood.
“Pete! Pete!” Papa appeared and gathered him close. Then he pushed him back. “You hurt? You bleeding?” All the while his hands ran along Pete’s arms and legs.
Over Papa’s shoulder Pete saw the woman. Helping her to her feet was Whittlestrom and a thin man stood beside him staring at the remains of the bakery. It had exploded, leaving nothing but a black smudge in its place.
“At least you weren’t inside,” Whittlestrom was saying to the man.
“But nothing would have exploded like that. I swear, Master Wizard, nothing was on when I left this morning.”
Whittlestrom’s heavy brows drew into a bushy line.
Pete glanced at the stick that hit him and back to the poor baker.
“I’m fine, Papa,” he pushed Papa’s hands away and grabbed the stick. “Wizard Whittlestrom, Wizard Whittlestrom!”
All three adults swung around to see who was calling.
Whittlestrom’s brows shot up in surprise, wrinkling his forehead.
Pete stopped and looked up…and up. His mouth went dry and so he simply held out the black stick.
“It…it hit me,” Pete confessed.
The wizard took the stick in his fingers and dumped some of the black powder into his palm.
His lips pulled back into an angry snarl and Pete shrank back.
“Someone did this on purpose,” he announced.
“What?” The baker cried.
Whittlestrom dumped the powder onto the ground and sent a few sparks at it.
Pete jumped but he wasn’t the only one. Mrs. Whittlestrom’s hand flew to her chest and she placed her other hand on Whittlestrom’s arm to steady herself.
“Who would do this?” Whittlestrom shouted, “who?” he looked around with flashing dark eyes and anyone close enough to hear his booming question ducked away before he saw them.
Pete stepped back. This wasn’t the wizard he remembered. This Whittlestrom was angry, scary.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Whittlestrom placed a hand on Pete’s shoulder, “you know, don’t you?”
“Who, dear?” Her eyes were kind. Pete looked at her and only her.
“Another wizard,” he whispered, “he pushed me yesterday and I saw those under his robes when I fell. A wizard Zorban.”
The baker gasped. Mrs. Whittlestrom bowed her head. The Wizard laughed and they all looked at him in surprise.
“Good lad,” he patted Pete’s head and the sparkle returned to his eyes. Pete grinned back.
“Dear, take Pete and his Pa and Master Gus to the yard.”
“Garius, what are you going to do?”
“Serve up some Wizard Justice!”
“Oh, my,” Mrs. Whittlestrom ushered them into the cottage’s front yard. “Hopefully the yard’ll protect us.”
“What?” Master Gus, the baker, asked. He looked bewildered.
“Garius placed thickened air around the cottage. I asked him to because it holds out some of the backlash, you know.”
Master Gus nodded vigorously. Pete pictured Mr. McCowen’s purple spikey hair and thought he understood.
Whittlestrom snapped his fingers and one Wizard Zorban appeared in the road before him. He snapped again and more wizards appeared along the curbs. Tall wizards, short wizards, fat wizards, skinny wizards. All in flashing robes and heavy brows. All with long beards.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Zorban demanded, eyeing the audience of government wizards.
Wittlestrom straightened his back and extended a hand although he was nowhere near Zorban.
“I, Wizard Garius Whittlestrom, challenge you to a wizard’s duel!”
A black glove appeared in the air before Zorban’s face. Whittlestrom flicked his wrist and the glove smacked Zorban across the chin.
…To Be Continued and Finished on Friday.
(If you have any thoughts, comments, or suggestions to make the story or my writing better, please let me know. I love feedback whether you love the story, hate it, are confused by it or whatever. Please be constructive and professional. That’s all I ask.)