Ravenspell Book 1: Of Mice and Magic (3 page)

“Like the Poopopolous virus and the Black Plague. Now put it back in the sack!”

Ben frowned. He picked up his mouse and hid it in his cupped hand. It didn’t look dirty or sick. It just sat with its eyes closed, sleeping. He held still, afraid that the mouse might wake if he moved. Amber rode without making a sound until they got home.

When the car stopped, Ben rushed to the living room where Dad was watching
Samurai Jack.
“Dad, look,” Ben called. “I got a mouse, a real mouse. Its name is Amber!”

Dad leaned forward in his chair, eyes on the TV. “Fine,” he said in an annoyed tone. “Now march upstairs and feed it to the lizard.”

Ben’s stomach sank. “Why? What do you mean?”

“You read Hakim’s note,” Dad said. “You have to feed the lizard once a week.”

It seemed to Ben that the heavens opened then. Hakim had said that his lizard didn’t eat much, but it had to eat
something.
Of course! Mice. It ate mice!

Ben had never felt so awful. He got sick to his stomach, and the room seemed to sway.

Dad commanded, “Just drop the mouse in the cage. The lizard knows what to do.”

“No,” Ben pleaded in a small voice. “Please. I . . . can’t.”

Dad gave him a hard look. “Ben,” he said. “You agreed. Imhotep is your responsibility.”

“But Dad—”

“Butts,” Dad rumbled in his sternest tone, “are for spanking.” He pierced Ben with his steely eyes. “Now be a good Marine.”

Mom spoke up. “Look, if you go feed
this
mouse to Imhotep, maybe we’ll get one for you next week.”

Dad gave Mom a sharp look. They hadn’t talked about this.

“Really?” Ben asked. “Can I get my own mouse?”

Dad grew angry but said, “Maybe.”

“What if . . . what if I keep this one?” Ben asked. “I’ll pay you for it with my own allowance.” Ben’s mom was really lousy at paying allowance. She would put it off and put it off until she owed Ben a small fortune. He figured that right now he had about fifty dollars in back allowance owed to him. “We could go back down to the pet shop and get another mouse,” he said eagerly. “That way I could keep Amber.”

Dad bayoneted him with a stare. “The pet shop is closed now. The lizard is hungry. Do your duty,
soldier
.”

Ben faltered. Dad never called him “soldier” unless he was in deep trouble.

Ben’s heart sank. He tried one last desperate plea. “Couldn’t we just feed it Spam or something?”

His mom looked up at him and said in a sad voice, “Honey, no one—human or animal—should be forced to eat Spam. That’s just too cruel.”

Caught between his father’s threats and his mother’s promise, Ben didn’t have a choice.

Cupping Amber in his hand, Ben marched upstairs, lumbering painfully up each step.

As he reached the top, his heart pounded in his ears. He wondered if he dared fake it. Maybe he could hide the mouse under his bed and pretend that he’d fed the lizard.

No, he decided, that would be too dangerous. The lizard might get hungry and die.

He opened his bedroom door.

The beautiful Nile monitor stood regally in his cage, front paws on his sunning log. Imhotep flicked his dark tongue and eyed Ben expectantly. It was as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Maybe I could give him some candy,
Ben thought. He still had some marshmallow chicks in his drawer, leftover from Easter. But that wouldn’t do, Ben knew. The lizard ate mice. Candy might make it sick.

Amber huddled in Ben’s palm, fast asleep. “I’m sorry,” Ben told her. “I’m so sorry.”

Amber half woke. The mouse sniffed the air.

Ben couldn’t think of anything else to do. He carried Amber to the lizard’s cage and slid the screen lid partway open. He took Amber by the tail and lifted her gently.

“Good-bye, Amber,” Ben said with quavering lips.

Amber woke. Her dark eyes peered at the lizard. She began squeaking fearfully and wiggled from side to side, swaying as she tried to escape.

The mouse’s terror riveted the lizard.

Imhotep flicked his forked tongue, tasting the air, and he stood eagerly with head raised, ready to pounce.

Then something strange happened.

The mouse shrieked louder and louder, until the whole room echoed with its cries.

Ben heard a rumbling sound, like thunder. A blinding blue light flashed.

In an instant, everything changed. Ben shrank out of his clothes, or else his shirt suddenly grew as large as a circus tent. At the same time, something yanked his nose and ears and pinched the skin at the top of his bottom—stretching him in impossible directions. His thumbs shrank to nothing, and his front teeth grew enormous.

Tears of pain blinded Ben.

The mouse was screaming. Screaming.

Ben let out a high shriek.

Amber’s tail grew huge. One second, Ben held it between two fingers. The next, he could hardly hold it at all.

He fell with Amber, headfirst, and landed—splat!—right into the deep sand by the lizard’s water dish.

Ben blinked. He was no larger than Amber, who sprawled next to him. The glass walls of the cage rose like cliffs around them.

The lizard towered above him too. Ben suddenly knew what it would be like to stare into the face of a hungry dinosaur.

“Allah be praised,” the lizard said, flicking his tongue. “Now, if only I had some fava beans and a nice Hawaiian Punch. I love having friends for dinner.”

Chapter 3

THE GREAT ESCAPE

No matter how fast you run,
you can’t escape your own fear.
The only way to beat it is to face it.

—BUSHMASTER

“I’ll name it Amber,” Ben said in the car.

AMBER BACKED AWAY from the gigantic lizard. Its black tongue snapped like a whip over her head. She stared at Ben in shock. He was absolutely, heartbreakingly, the most handsome mouse she had ever seen!

His onyx eyes mirrored the sparkling light from the lizard lamp. His lustrous pelt had grown a striking reddish gold, darkening until it was nearly black on top. His lithe tail was elegant, dashing. His perfect whiskers made Amber’s stomach flip.

“What going on?” Ben asked, blinking. “Who took my thumbs? Where’d I get the mink coat?” He whirled, and his long tail scrambled away behind him. Ben spun, trying to get a good look at it. Suddenly, Amber saw, the truth dawned on him.

“Mom!” Ben screamed, whirling about in a blind panic. “Mom, I’ve got a problem! I . . . I think I’m a
vermin
!”

The huge lizard, Imhotep, stepped forward. His black tongue stabbed the air above Ben’s head. “More than just vermin,” Imhotep said in a thick accent. “You’re a succulent, full-flavored jumping mouse, if my tongue doesn’t deceive me. Firm muscles, well marbled. Just do me a favor: don’t squeak on your way down. Hearing my food shriek in my throat really ruins my meal.”

“But, but, how did I get this way?” Ben pleaded.

“A curse, of course,” Imhotep said. “We invented them in Egypt—mummy’s curses, pharaoh’s magicians. Why, my own cousin is a genie’s apprentice.”

“But who cursed me?” Ben wondered.

“The young wizardess.” The lizard jutted a chin toward Amber.

Amber’s heart pounded. “Me?” Amber squeaked, eyes wide. “
I
zapped him? I can’t do magic!”

But someone had turned the boy into a mouse, and Amber knew in her heart that old Barley Beard had been right—she
did
have magical powers!

Ben whirled toward Amber, as if just noticing her. “You’re a girl,” he shouted. “And I’m naked!” He threw one paw over his chest and crossed his legs.

“Of course you cursed him,” Imhotep told Amber in a deep, sedate voice. “You wished that he could see how it feels to be a mouse.” He paused, as Amber realized that she had screamed that just as Ben was dropping her into the lizard cage. “Now he’s a mouse,” Imhotep said with finality. “So, about my dinner . . .”

“Mom!” Ben screamed. His shout echoed off the glass cage, no louder than a mouse’s squeak. “The lizard is saying mean things!”

Imhotep lunged.

Amber dove behind a stick. Her fur stood on end. The lizard lamp blazed overhead like a bonfire.

Ben froze with fear for an instant, then stepped back and tripped over his own feet. He crawled behind the lizard’s sunning log to hide.

“Wait,” Ben called to Imhotep. “Why eat me? I took good care of you!”

“Good care?” Imhotep growled. “You thought I liked watching your favorite cartoons over and over? You thought I liked bubble baths?”

“But,” Ben begged, “what about Amber? She’s the one you’re supposed to eat!”

“Me?” Amber squeaked.

The lizard froze for an instant, as if considering, but suddenly backed away. He was frightened. “I don’t like magic mice,” the lizard said. “They give me gas.”

The lizard stalked forward, angling his body, forcing Ben toward a corner.

Amber looked up and saw that Ben had left the lid halfway open. She got an idea. “Ben,” Amber shouted. “Jump!” She pointed up to the lid.

“That’s got to be fifty feet in the air,” Ben screamed. “I can’t jump that high. I need a ladder, or a rope . . .”

Amber scampered up the sunning log. In all of her days as a pet shop mouse, she’d never had a stick like this in her cage. She’d never gotten high enough to try to jump out. Now she scaled to the top of the log and leaped an enormous distance. With all of her might, she wished that she could reach the top. She snagged the edge of the lid, clinging by the tips of her paws.

Ben peered up, and saw her tail hanging. “A rope!” Ben said, just as the lizard lunged at him.

His legs seemed to explode beneath him, propelling him up like a marshmallow flipped from a spoon.

He caught Amber’s tail and held on for dear life.

“Feeeeed me!” the lizard whined, leaping as best he could and snapping at Ben and Amber. “Feeeeeeed me!”

“Let go of my tail!” Amber shrieked.

“Or what?” Ben asked. “You’ll turn me into a slug?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she shouted.

“Ah,” Imhotep said, peering up, “what a sweet delicacy dangles before my eyes! Tastier than the dates at the Temple to Ahmen Ra!”

He climbed up the sunning log and chomped. Ben clung to Amber’s tail, screaming and swinging like Tarzan.

“I’m slipping!” Amber cried. Her tiny claws couldn’t hold much longer.

“Come down,” Imhotep shouted. “I love eating American.” He jumped and nipped at Ben.

“Amber,” Ben shouted. “Turn the lizard into a bug!”

Amber wondered.
Can I really do that?
But before she could even give it much thought, Ben screamed and kicked off, smashing the lizard on the lips. He must have hit solidly, for Ben went hurtling, and he was still holding Amber by the tail. In fact, he was grasping it so hard that when he arced out of the cage, he pulled her over the top with him. They both sprawled on the lush, shag carpet.

For the first time in her life, Amber was free, and for a moment, all of her fears were forgotten. She gazed around. The room was a wonderland for a mouse. Ben’s shoes, shirt, and pants lay by the lizard’s cage. They were spread along the floor, like a fallen giant. There was all kinds of interesting junk in the room—dragon posters on the walls, a GameBoy, karate trophies on his dresser.

Ben seemed to have caught her mood. He stared up at the ceiling. “It’s as big as a basketball arena,” he whispered in awe.

Then he whined and clutched his chest. “I . . . my heart must be beating four hundred times a minute. I’m having a heart attack!”

“That’s just normal,” Amber said.

There was a scraping noise on the glass wall of the cage. Amber peered toward it. Imhotep was up on his back feet, his front claws gouging the glass as he tried to climb out. “Come back,” he called. “I will not eat anyone. It was just a little joke, my American friends! A
tasteless
joke.”

Ben crouched on his back feet, gasping for breath and swaying. “Okay,” he told Amber. “Turn me back into a human.”

Amber peered at him, unblinking. He was trying to stand. But he hadn’t taken into account the changes that had occurred. He couldn’t do much more than crouch. He wiggled the toes on his huge feet. Amber’s whiskers twitched, and she sniffed a little. “I don’t know how.”

“But you’re a wizard, right?” Ben demanded.

“No,” Amber said. “I guess, maybe. I mean, uh, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Ben said, trying to sound calm and reasonable, and failing miserably. “Just
wish
me human again.”

Amber squeaked angrily. “Why? Why should I do anything for you? One minute you’re petting me like I’m your best friend and the next, I’m lizard bait.”

“It wasn’t my fault! Dad told me to!”

“Do you always feed your friends to lizards when your dad tells you?”

“It’s not my fault, you little bean-sized rat,” Ben growled. “Now, you made me into a mouse, and you’re going to make me human again!” Ben balled his paws into fists and stalked toward Amber.

Amber had taken all she could from him. “You . . . stinkbug,” she screamed. She leaped on him, knocking him backward to the floor. “You tried to kill me! You maggoty cousin of a mealworm!” She yanked out one of Ben’s perfect whiskers.

“Ow,” Ben cried.

Amber climbed on Ben and began pulling his ears, trying to rip them off. She was beside herself with rage. She bit Ben’s nose.

“Knock it off,” Ben yelled. He gave Amber a karate kick to the belly. It sent her hurtling backward five inches into the air, then tumbling over the rug. Amber landed with a thud. He’d kicked her so hard that tears sprang up in her eyes. She trembled badly.

“You fight like a sissy,” Ben scolded.

“I fight like a mouse. There’s a difference.”

“Wish me back into a human,” Ben shouted.

But she wanted to punish him. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could even do it. Old Barley Beard had always insisted that she had magical powers. But as she looked at Ben, she didn’t feel powerful. In fact, she was terrified. She was still shaking in fear of the lizard.

And if I turn him back into a human,
she realized,
I’ll be all alone.

“I’m glad you’re a mouse,” she said angrily. “And if I have my way, you’ll stay one forever.”

Ben looked into her eyes and must have sensed her anger, for suddenly he backed away in terror.

* * *

Now, it is a strange fact that casting a spell gives off energy, just as lightning gives off electricity or a bonfire gives off heat. But when a spell goes off, it sends out a wave of magical energy—a cloud of plasma that only very powerful magicians can sense.

So when Amber turned Ben into a mouse, she released a magical force that exploded like a nuclear bomb.

In a swamp in Louisiana, an old bullfrog named Rufus Flycatcher was sitting atop a cypress knee at the edge of a bayou, croaking a long, complex spell that only a hearty old frog could master.

Waves of dark water lapped against the trees. A small gator was swimming through the bayou, eyeing Rufus, but Rufus didn’t pay no never-mind. The ornery gator knew better than to try to gobble a wizard. Besides, there were a million frogs in the bayou tonight—all of them croaking up a storm.

Just below Rufus, five young frogs, practically tadpoles, listened patiently to Rufus’s spell, a spell that would cause snapping turtles and loggerheads to flee the area, looking for prey other than young frogs to hunt. The spell was just beginning to take effect, spreading a luminous haze in the air above the swamp.

In the midst of this demonstration, Rufus felt the shock from Amber’s spell, a force that shook him to his core. He whirled and saw the aura rising like a mushroom cloud.

“Urp!” Rufus gulped in amazement. The luminous haze overhead faded out.

One young frog at Rufus’s knee, who was so much a tadpole that he hadn’t even lost his tail yet, croaked, “What was that, Magi Flycatcher?”

“That,” said Rufus, “was a powerful spell.” He dared not guess what kind of spell had been cast, but he got a sinking feeling in his gut, an odd rumble, as if he’d eaten a big old wolf spider that just wouldn’t stop wiggling. “Been more than a coon’s age since I’ve seen an aura like that. A powerful mage is out there, for sure!”

“A light mage or dark?” the tadpole asked.

Rufus bit his lower lip in worry. The mage-storm had come from the far west, he felt sure. Dark sorcerers ruled the west. And the last time that Rufus had seen power unleashed like that, it heralded the coming of a great war where many good wizards had lost their lives.

We’ll have to send a wizard to investigate,
Rufus realized, and immediately he was lost in thought, wondering who might be able to make the journey at this time of year.

“We can only hope for good,” Rufus croaked.

* * *

At the same time, in a cave near the coast, sixty miles from Ben’s house, a sorcerer was half asleep, hanging from a rock by his feet, his wings draped dramatically about his body to keep it warm. His name was Nightwing. He had a silver ring in his nose, tarnished by age, and silver studs running around the edges of enormous ears that dwarfed his small face. His fur was the lovely color of orange coals among a dying fire, and bare patches along his wings and ears were tattooed with mystic symbols.

His heavy purple eyelids were closed as he chanted in a dream:

Once upon a midnight dreary,

While I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious

Volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping,

Suddenly there came a tapping—

As of someone gently rapping,

Rapping at my chamber door.

As the shock from Amber’s spell rattled through the cave, Nightwing startled awake.

His mind was groggy from his long winter’s hibernation, but he had seldom felt such immense power. Indeed, he had felt it only once, long ago, when the Cruel One first woke to his powers and began his reign of terror upon the earth. Nightwing opened his eyes.

All around him in the cave, his minions lay in torpor, deeply asleep. They were monstrous creatures, twisted things from nightmares. Only one of them sensed that something was amiss.