Volonians: Mysteries of The Vondercrat

  Chapter Two

  The Cutters

  A few days’ later, Broc dashes into the castle, eyes wide, a scroll clenched in his fist. “It’s here! It’s here!”

  “You act as if it doesn’t come every four cycles,” Varah drones.

  Shenzara comes out of her room attempting to keep her excitement in lady-like check. “What does it say, Broc?” 

  Broc throws the scroll in the air where it freezes, unfolding in front of them. “I love when it does that,” Broc says, smiling at Shenzara.

  “I’ll read it,” Shenzara offers, not expecting to be challenged.

  Greetings Cutters,

     The Lords of Volonia invite you to the Shifting of Classes Ceremony. This cycle, two Volonians in your household will be shifting to Class Three: Twins Broc Roman Cutter and Shenzara Lyla Cutter. The festivities will take place promptly at 3:00 p.m. You will be seated at the Lord’s Table. Congratulations on a job well done, and we hope you look forward to all the magic that Class Three has to offer.

  Sincerely,

     The House of Lords

  Varah sits in an exquisite chair gazing intently into her vanity mirror. Her dark brown complexion stares back at her, frustration written all over her face. “VENYATI VUP,” she utters. As if moving of its own volition, her hairbrush rises from the counter and begins brushing her long, silky tresses.

  Her daughter, noticing the disturbed and puzzled look on her mother’s face, asks, “What’s wrong, Mom?”  

  Varah replies, “It’s the Shifting of Classes Ceremony. I abhor them. Witches and Warlocks from all Sectors of Volonia gather to celebrate the shifting to a new class, and I’m so over it. This is my eighth cycle. I’d rather go on vacation.” She waves her hand and her Vinyen bottle, rises to pour her a tall, full glass. It then replaces itself back to the table as the glass lifts and makes its way to her already-opened hand. Vinyen is Volonia’s most prestigious and relaxing spirit. Contemplatively, she swirls the goblet in her hand and then takes a few long, deep drams. “I am a Class Six witch, yet I know all the spells of Class Eight.”

  Shenzara breaks into the maelstrom of her mother’s reflections. “But Mom, you have to go. It’s mandatory!”

  Varah rolls her eyes. “I know. VENYATI VOWN,” she utters. The brush halts in mid-air and floats away to place itself back on the vanity counter. “Unless I come up with some alternative,” she continues, the hint of a grin sneaking upon her face.

  Shenzara says, “Oh no, that look brings trouble.”

  “It’s only trouble if you get caught.” Varah rises abruptly from her chair and begins rummaging through the books on a wall shelf, clearly trying to locate a spell to absolve them of attending the mandatory Shifting of Classes Ceremony.

  While Varah continues her search, Broc enters through the solid marble double doors. Shenzara says, “I see you’re still using your Volos to buy those cheap magic tricks from the drifters.” She jibes openly at her brother.

  Broc retorts, “You’re just upset that you can’t walk through solid objects. Cool, huh?” He stands half-way through the door, part of his body visible in the room, and half of his body invisible, still inside the door. As he moves to bring the rest of his body forward, he finds himself stuck. “What’s happening?”

  “I warned you about buying those cheap spells. It’s wearing off.” Shenzara laughs tauntingly.

  Broc, suddenly panicked, yells, “Zara, this isn’t funny! He said it would last for twenty minutes!” 

  “More like two minutes.”

  Varah, completely agitated, waves her hand at the door and growls, “VANDUCIO VAMOON.” As though shoved by some unseen force, Broc barrels through the door, almost hitting his face on the floor. Infuriated, Varah spits out a spell, “VAHELIA VLEAXAR!” and turns her son upside-down in midair, allowing everything to fall from his pockets.

  Broc yells, “Mom! Put me down! Put me down! I promise I won’t buy those spells anymore!”

  Varah replies calmly, “As you wish.” She does all this without laying an eye on him. She is still rummaging through the hundreds of books on her shelf, trying to find a way out of the Shifting of Classes Ceremony. “VENYATI VOWN,” Varah chants, and Broc falls into a chair, his robe now disheveled, Shenzara laughs, enjoying her brother’s humiliation. Varah cuts her daughter a look, causing her to cease immediately. Suddenly, Varah's eyes light up, illuminating a nearly lost memory of an incantation. She strides to the center of the room and begins chanting words that Shenzara and Broc have never heard before. Her facial expression contorts as she struggles to remember the words.

  Broc whispers to Shenzara, “What is she saying? Why is she closing her eyes?”

  Shenzara whispers back, “All I know is that she has been ranting about finding a way to get out of the Shifting of Classes Ceremony, and I think she just found it, judging by the way she’s chanting now.”

  “I’ve never heard her chant words like that… or look so entranced,” says Broc.  

  Varah stands fixed in the middle of the room. Her long, flowing hair begins to rise from her head, its golden streak glowing. Following the rise of her hair, her entire body ascends in a vertical lift, feet slowly leaving the floor, higher and higher as she recites the spell, “VAMBULA AMIRE VONACCIO VOUD. YOU WERE ONCE HIDDEN, BUT NOW YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND! VASCIAGO ADU ANADA ADER. ANCIENT BOOK OF VOLONIA PLEASE COME HERE!” Immediately, a fiery red and yellow portal begins to form, circling counter-clockwise and growing larger with each rotation. The ground begins to shake, books fall from the shelves, walls crack and gusts of winds blow through the windowless room, shuddering everything in the place. 

  “What’s happening?” shouts Shenzara, barely able to hear her own voice in the chaos surrounding her. 

  “I don’t know!” hollers a frightened Broc, grabbing hold of the velvet lounger that his sister is already gripping with all her might. The twins try to keep from being swept into the portal that their mother summoned. Objects begin to swirl around the room. Varah is completely entranced, a golden glow surrounding her. All of a sudden a gigantic book, nearly two feet long and at least 6 inches thick, floats from the fiery portal and makes its way directly across the room toward Varah.  She holds out her hand, and the book floats closer toward her. Once the book is inches from her grasp, she begins to descend. The wind quickly ceases, and her hair falls back into place, flowing beautifully as it was before the spell.

  Gradually the portal closes, growing smaller and smaller until it simply is no longer there. Varah opens her eyes, unable to believe what she sees.  Gold light shines from the massive book, revealing the bold, dark lettering embossed across the front: VONDERCRAT.

  Broc yells out, “THE VONDERCRAT! THE VONDERCRAT!!!!  Mom, how did you do that? I mean… it’s impossible!” Completely puzzled and afraid, he collapses onto the same lounger that kept him from flying into the portal. He places his hands on the sides of his head and says in disbelief, “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is happening,” over and over.

  Varah, still in shock herself, shushes him without taking her eyes off the book. “Calm down, Broc! Lower your voice. Do you want us to get caught?”  Varah, her gaze broken by her son’s hysterics, looks around the room and notices Shenzara looking perturbed. She asks her, “Are you alright?” She walks over to console her daughter, who looks at her mother in awe, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief. “Shenzara, say something.”

  “Mom, you’ve got to get that book out of here. If the Lords find out…”

  “They won’t find out.” Varah whispers.

  Then, without warning, a loud voice booms from within the book, “Lords, what is your request?”

  Shenzara and Broc, taken aback, look to their mother. They wait for her to respond, to do anything… to make her request known. Varah, clearly taken aback herself and unprepared for this question, opens her mouth as if to utter some words,
but no sound comes forth.

  The VONDERCRAT repeats, “Lords, what is your request?” Broc and Shenzara, immobile, stare at their mother, but she merely shrugs, dropping her arms to the sides of her elegant but somewhat disheveled mocha dress. The glow from the book dissipates as the book drops to the floor, making a thud that echoes throughout the room. The three look at each other, unsure of what to do next or who should do it. Their silence is broken by a loud knock on the door, startling them.

  “Who is it?” shouts Varah.

  “Viscera,” the voice outside of the door replies.

  “Hide the book!” Varah hisses. Broc and Shenzara don’t move, still frozen in shock at what has just occurred. Varah shoots a look that carries with it all the evil a mother’s stare can convey.

  Suddenly released from his paralysis, Broc grabs at the book, trying helplessly to move it. “It’s too heavy,” he protests.

  Shenzara shakes her head at him in complete disgust. “VAVENTI VIDE,” she pronounces. The book rises and slowly floats toward the closet. “Open the door, Broc. You know our spells aren’t that strong.”

  “Sorry,” Broc says with a sneer. “VAVENTI VOVEN,” he says, and the closet doors open. The Vondercrat slowly floats into the closet.  Varah, who is clearly annoyed with the pace at which her children are moving, waves her hand and the closet doors close with a bang. She looks around the room. It’s in complete disarray.

  “VAVENTI VEEN.” The books replace themselves to their rightful places on the shelf; the cracks in the walls close themselves, and the furniture pieces return to their original positions. Varah gives the room one final, surveying glance. Everything looks normal. Shenzara and Broc nod their head in approval. “Come in, Viscera.”

  The Guide walks in, looking cautiously at the faces of the family. “Is everything okay? I heard a lot of noise, so I decided to check on you.”

  “Everything is fine; the children are just excited about the Shifting of Classes Ceremony,” Varah replies with an expertly feigned composure. Viscera turns his head to see Broc and Shenzara sitting tensely on the edge of the lounger, smiling a bit too brightly, revealing their beautifully white teeth. “You know how they are, Viscera,” Varah continues, adjusting her dress in a full-sized mirror.  “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

  “I also wanted to inform you that I fixed that seating error, and that we leave for the Shifting in thirty minutes.”

  “I’m aware of the time, Viscera,” she points out condescendingly.

  “All right, just doing my job. See you in thirty minutes.”

  “Viscera?”  Varah calls after him.

  “Yes, Ms. Cutter?”

  “Thank you.” She smiles a half smile, hoping her second dismissal will allay his suspicions.

  “Good day, Cutters.” Viscera bows slightly as he exits the room.  

  Broc rises quickly from the lounger and declares, “I’ll have no part in this. I’ve heard about this book from Auduit Alexander. Only the Lords and Guardians can get their hands on it. No Volonian has ever conjured this book! Besides, I passed my exams; I want to go to the Shifting. It’s not our fault that you’re not shifting to Class Seven.”

  Shenzara yanks him by his robe, attempting to let him know that his mouth has just gotten the better of him.  

  Varah sneers, “I did advance! Your father’s veil happened to be my Auduit for the exam! She did something to manipulate the results. I just know she did!”

  “Olivia? Mom, you must be kidding. She always prepares those warm, delicious, melt- in-your-mouth, light, fluffy Vandicups, and, she’s so kind to us!” protests Broc. Shenzara nudges Broc and whispers, “Haven’t you got a clue, brother? That’s a fight you don’t want to start.”

  Varah smirks at her son and says sarcastically, “Don’t worry Broc, I’ll have you back in time for your shift to Class Three so you can move a few more objects.”  Broc doesn’t crack a smile. “Lighten up. The book is here now. I just want a break. We deserve a break.” Varah straightens her shoulders and calls, “Shenzara! Bring me the Vondercrat. Let’s see if we can find a way out of this Shifting. Hurry, time is of the essence.”

  “VAVENTI VOVEN,” says a reluctant Shenzara. The closet doors open obediently. “VAVENTI VISE,” she continues, commanding the book to float toward Varah, who grabs the weighty volume and examines it. She attempts to open it, but it won’t yield. “What’s wrong with it?” she protests. “There is no way to open it.” Struggling to turn the tome around, she shakes the giant book, but it’s shut tight. Her children stare, amazed at their mother’s futile efforts to maneuver it.

  “Why don’t you try speaking to it? It spoke to you,” offers Shenzara.

  Varah nods at her daughter. “That might work.” She takes a deep breath.

  “VAVENTI VOVEN.” The book lays, motionless. Broc, growing amused, begins to laugh.  “Is something amusing?” Varah crosses

  her arms, her eyes focused on Broc.  

  “It’s just kind of funny that you can conjure a book nobody has ever conjured in all of history, but you can’t open it,” he replies. Shenzara smirks in agreement.

  “Oh, you think it’s amusing too, Zara”?

  “Well, I mean, he’s correct, Mom.”

  Varah angrily heaves the book at Broc. “How about you give it a try, Mister Class Two?”

  Broc catches the book, but the weight of it sends him staggering backward across the room, and his smile quickly fades. He gets up, dusts off his robe, and shoots his mom a haughty look. “I’ll just give it a try, then.”

  Varah and Shenzara whisper between themselves, giggling like two school girls. “Go ahead, Broc; open the book,” his sister taunts.

  Broc shoves the book with all his might and slams it down on the desk next to him. He looks at his mother and sister, his eyes boring into them with a devilish glare. Then, he lowers his face until it is close to the book and he says, “VONDERCRAT OPEN.” The book rises from the desk and a golden light illuminates its cover.

  “Lords, what is your request?” The book calls out. Varah and Shenzara abruptly stop laughing. Broc backs away from the book to stand with his sister behind Varah.

  “Say something, Mom, before it closes again,” Shenzara rushes to say.

  Varah moves to stand before the book, this time mustering complete confidence, and says, “DUPLICATION SPELL!”  

  “She has gone completely mad today. She knows that’s forbidden!” Broc shouts. He begins hitting his head against the wall.

  “Life as we know it is over,” Shenzara murmurs. 

  With a power all its own, the book opens and its pages begin to turn rapidly. Quick as a blur, the pages fly until suddenly they come to a stop on page 226. Varah walks closer to the book. She reads the spell at the top of the page: “DUPLICATION.”

  Shenzara comes to her wits and lunges at Varah, trying to pull her mother away from the magical book. “Mom, no! Not that spell!!” Varah is so completely entranced in the words of the spell that she cannot feel her daughter pulling her, nor hear a word she speaks. The lights in the room mysteriously dim; objects float, and Varah’s eyes transform from their naturally gorgeous hazel to a deep, dark blue.  Her hair begins to rise with a strong wind that mysteriously blows through the room.  

  Shenzara grabs Broc. “What is wrong with your mother?”

  Broc looks at her, stunned. “Now she’s my mother?” he asks.

  Oblivious to their distress, Varah recites the Duplication Spell. “ASPARA HADULT VANDIMIR PAPUR. CREATE ALL THREE A REPLICA ILLUR EXACT HEIGHT, WEIGHT, PERSONALITY AND STYLE. VAMURI ANDAMA VEYUMPT VILE.”  A huge cloud of smoke appears as the book closes, and Varah falls to the floor, unconscious. Broc and Shenzara rush toward her, grabbing their mother’s hands, shaking her, trying to wake her.

  “Mom!” shouts Shenzara and Broc in single, panicked voices.

  “Are you okay? Wake up! Get up!” pleads Broc, shaking her vigorously. V
arah slowly opens her eyes.

  “Did I do it?” she mumbles, her speech slurred. They look up and see that the smoke is beginning to clear.

  Shenzara screams, “Aaaah!” Broc’s mouth drops open. Varah, realizing what she is seeing, feels a sudden surge of energy.

  “I did it! I did it!”

  They watch. Stepping from the cloud of smoke are exact replicas of the family: Varah, Broc and Shenzara. The six of them stand, face-to-face.

  Broc, suddenly more curious than frightened, walks around his duplicate and says, “This is creepy.”

  As though on cue, his duplicate then walks around him and repeats, “This is creepy.” Excited, Broc shouts, “He sounds like me!”

  Again, his duplicate repeats his phrase verbatim. “He sounds like me!” prompting Broc to turn to his mom. “Make it stop.”

  “Make it stop,” Broc’s duplicate repeats. Broc walks and stands next to his mother.  His duplicate reproduces his action and goes to stand next to the duplicated Varah. Varah chuckles. Her duplicate does the same. Shenzara stands frozen, her hands covering her mouth, revealing her obvious shock. Her duplicate mimics the gesture. “VUME,” Varah says, and the duplicate suddenly change from being full of life to motionless, almost wax-like.  

  “Mom what did you just do?” asks Shenzara.

  Varah gives her customary smirk in reply. “I just quieted the duplicates; they were starting to annoy me. Now, why don’t we just go to the Isle of Waterfalls?” Varah announces, completely pleased with herself.

  “The Isle of Waterfalls?” asks Broc, a hint of excitement in his voice. “We haven’t been there since we were small! Mom, can you do levitation spells so that Zara and I can fly through the waterfalls?”

  “No need for levitation spells. The Isle is the one place were all Volonians can fly, levitate and breathe under water,” replies Varah.

  “Fly,” says Broc wistfully, clearly beginning to enjoy the idea of a vacation. Shenzara interrupts, “Hello? Am I the only one freaking out here? Mom, how is this going to work? I mean, what is your plan? This is against Volonian Law! And Broc! I can’t believe you. Mister ‘I want nothing to do with this,’”

  “Zara, come on! That was before she mentioned Isle of Waterfalls! We might as well go.”

  Varah interjects, “The duplicates are going to go to the Shifting of Classes Ceremony while we go on vacation.”

  “Mom, people will know,” protested Shenzara.  

  “No they won’t,” Varah retorted.

  “Well, can you explain how this works, then?”

  “Gladly. We just have to program our duplicates with enough responses.”

  Shenzara interjects, “But Mom, we only have ten minutes.”

  Varah smiles knowingly. “Shenzara, why do you underestimate your mother, my love?” Varah shakes her head teasingly, a mock-disappointed expression on her face. She chants, “VONYOLO VADULT,” and out of thin air a small, silver book appears and falls into her hand. The words VANDAR are embossed on the front. “This little volume contains every word that has ever been uttered in Volonia. All I need to do is place each duplicate’s hand on this book, say a few magical words, and the duplicates are ready to jingle and mingle inconspicuously with the most crafty witches and warlocks of Volonia.” Varah walks up to each duplicate, and, in turn, places his or her hand on the book and says, “VALADI VUM.” Immediately the three duplicates transform from completely motionless to conversing as if they were the Cutters themselves. Their facial expressions change appropriately, along with their posture.  

  Viscera’s voice shouting through the door confirms the need for urgency. "Three minutes till departure!”

  Varah whispers, “Stop the nonsense now; we don’t have time.”

  Broc interjects with, “But Mom, my duplicate does need a new robe.”

  “And mine needs a new dress,” adds Zara.”

  Varah shakes her head. “VAVENTI VON VUMAS.” Their duplicates’ clothing transforms before their eyes. Shenzara’s duplicate is now clad in a shimmering purple gown draping nearly to the floor with her hair pinned up, the golden streak curled and hanging in a perfect ringlet. Her entire presentation sparkles with purple gems. Broc’s duplicate is clothed in a handsome silver cloak embroidered with purple stitching. It hangs gracefully down to the hem of his pants, only millimeters from sweeping the floor. His own golden streak is combed smooth, flattering the left side of his head.  Varah’s duplicate wears purple diamond studs in her perfect ears; her hair is swooped up to the left to show off the glittering stones. Her prominent, golden, Volonian streak glows against her thick, dark mane. A seemingly fluid, silver gown hangs off her delicate, brown shoulders and plunges into a backless V, gliding over her womanly curves.

  The three give themselves one final, approving glance. Varah, pleased with their appearance, declares, “Perfect. Are you kids ready for three hours of fun?”

  Broc responds with an enthusiastic, “Yes!” while Shenzara only shakes her head in disapproval.  

  Varah caresses her daughter’s well-coiffed locks. “Everything will be all right.”

  “Mom, we will be back in time to Shift, right?” asks Broc.

  Varah responds. “Yes!” I’m setting our timer for three hours.”

  Varah begins her incantation. “VOSSY VEDU MINKA VALAX, TAKE US TO THE ISLE OF WATEFALLS FOR THREE HOURS AND THEN BRING US BACK!” Varah, Broc and Shenzara immediately disappear. The duplicates remain and look up as Viscera knocks on the door.

  Varah’s duplicate responds with a pleasant, “Come in.” Their Guide enters, impressed that the usually difficult family is ready to go, and pleased with how immaculate they look.

  He bows and says, “After you.” The duplicates parade out of the room, Viscera following them to the Shifting of Classes Ceremony.