Kendra Kandlestar and the Door to Unger (18 page)

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN SO ANGRY that your rage seemed to overtake your entire body? Your face flushes red, your hands turn to fists, and your whole body quakes, like some volcano urging to explode. Well, this was exactly what happened to Kendra when she saw the Izzard, for she could only guess that it had eaten her tiny friend. The door was cackling hysterically, but Kendra could barely hear it, so intense was her fury. She let out the loudest, blood-curling scream that her tiny body was capable of and, without even thinking, she began picking stones from the floor and hurling them at the Izzard. Kendra could think of nothing but attacking the beast. The Izzard tried to snap at her, but Kendra’s assault was now coming so fast and furious that the creature had to skitter backwards, away from the barrage of stones. At last it turned and fled into the impenetrable blackness of the maze.

Coward!
Kendra thought. She pursued the creature, but it had soon escaped her. She threw herself to the ground, exhausted and in tears.

The entire temple maze had rumbled with the door’s laughter through all of this, but at last it paused and said, “Ah ha! And now
you
know what it is to feel hatred enter your heart. Now you would have revenge!”

“SHUT UP!” Kendra shouted.

She pulled herself to her feet and dashed through the maze again, as if she could somehow escape the voice. But it was as if it was pursuing her, consuming her with its dark words. Around every corner, every bend, through every doorway—the sinister voice was there. It was
everywhere.

“You cannot escape what’s inside of you!” the door gloated. “You hate them, these monsters! And they hate you.”

“No!” Kendra sobbed. “Not all of them. Not Trooogul. He helped me.”

“Trooogul?” the door asked. “Who? The Unger who delivered you here? And how do you think he helped you, foolish child? He has brought you here, to me!”

Kendra’s mind swirled. “No,” she murmured meekly. “You don’t understand . . . ”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” the door snapped. “Open up your mind and let me see into your heart. I will show you the truth.”

And now, Kendra could feel the voice invading her very mind and entering her memories. She shook her head, trying to keep him out—but it was no use. The voice—the door—could see and know everything inside of her.

“Wait,” the door said, suddenly pausing in its probe. “What is this? There’s something strange here, in your memories . . . ”

Kendra squeezed her eyes tight, as if this would somehow help to block him out. There were things she didn’t want him to see, such as—

“Oroook!” the door gasped, and Kendra knew he had discovered her memory of that dark night when the Unger had come to visit her and Uncle Griffinskitch. “I see,” the door purred softly after a moment. “He did find you, after all, that traitor Oroook. I thought the Keepers had been able to destroy him first. Creeegun was right. You, child, are the forbidden one. You tried to trick me.”

“We
did
trick you,” Kendra retorted. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“And what will you do, now that you’re here?” the door sneered. “Why, go ahead, child! Destroy me!”

Kendra glared up into the darkness of the maze, her blood boiling. She didn’t know what to do—and the door knew it. He had called her bluff.

“I thought as much,” the door growled. “What can you do? Nothing! You will know Unger, child, like every other wretched Een who comes to me. I know what you tried to do. You thought you could befriend Trooogul and turn him against me, to betray me. But no Unger can befriend an Een. It’s against their nature. They hate Eens! Don’t you see? It is
you
that has been betrayed.”

“Just because you say it, doesn’t make it true,” Kendra retorted. “You’re wrong about Trooogul!”

“Am I now?” the door droned wickedly. “He’s out there, a hero among his monstrous brethren, and you’re in here . . . with me. Oh, I’m afraid he did betray you. And I can prove it to you.”

Deeper into her mind the door pried, feasting on the memories of her Unger friend. He could see her saving Trooogul from the mines of Umbor, he could see them journey together, he could see them hiding in the cave . . .

“Ah,” the door murmured with deep satisfaction. “The cave! Remember the cave, child? How do you think Trooogul came to be there before? You know how. He said he didn’t remember. A lie, I expect. Oh, he was there before. Indeed, he probably helped capture your brother. He probably helped destroy your family!” He laughed, again so loud that the whole maze trembled. “How dim-witted and naive can you be?” he roared with glee. “You helped the very beast who destroyed your family! How stupid of you! How stupid of you!”

He repeated this last statement, over and over again, and now, the voice became Kendra’s own.

“How stupid! How stupid!” she mumbled hysterically. She could feel her heart balloon with hatred. She felt as if she would explode in a fit of rage.

“I will delve deeper into your mind,” the door said, “for there lay the darkest truths, the ones locked away in the quiet corners of your memory. We’ll find things you can’t even consciously remember, things you don’t want to remember. But I can make you see them. I can help you remember the frightening truths of the past . . .”

In frustration, Kendra clenched fistfuls of hair in her hands, trying to resist. It was no use; she felt the voice probe her mind again and now the pictures came alive in her head. It was as if she was watching a performance or a play—except she was one of the actors, and she was watching from within the scene. And in this scene Kendra was staring up into the face of a young Een boy, only five or six years old. He wasn’t returning her gaze though; it was as if he was cradling her against his chest and it felt as though he was running, or rather scrambling, as if over a rugged landscape.
How can such a small boy carry me?
she wondered.
And why do I feel so
. . .
so
. . .
so tiny?
But then she realized that she wasn’t an eleven-year-old girl in the vision. This was a memory from long, long ago. She was just a baby, and the boy was her brother, Kiro, and that’s why he could carry her. She now realized she was wrapped in a green blanket; she couldn’t move her hands or legs. She looked past Kiro’s face, but all she could see was the sky, which seemed wild and forlorn. Then she became aware of a sound—the sound of Ungers. Now Kendra understood clearly: this was the memory of how her family had been taken by Ungers, and how she had been left behind. She watched in awe as the remainder of the scene unfolded in her mind’s eye.

Kiro now came to a stop, his back against a large boulder. The sounds of the pursuing Ungers were growing louder; at any moment they would have them in their clutches. Kendra, as a helpless baby in the memory, looked upon her brother’s face again. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyes wild with terror.

“We’re trapped,” he murmured feverishly, clutching Kendra tightly. “They’re all around us. They’ve already got our folks! Why don’t they just let us go?”

In the memory, Kendra longed to talk, to say something to him; but she could not, of course, for she was just a baby.

“Days of Een!” Kiro gasped, looking over his shoulder. “They’re here! How do they move so fast?”

“SEE?” the door sneered, a gleeful observer of the memory. “They’re going to take him, those Ungers! Watch now, child. Feel his fright!”

Kendra could feel it. Her heart was beating furiously. She wanted to help Kiro, to save him, the little helpless boy in the scene. But she could not. She was completely powerless. No! She screamed inside her mind.
How could I be so stupid? How could I have ever helped the very creatures who did this to poor Kiro? Never again
. . .

Hatred began to cloud her heart. She could feel it course through her body, unimpeded, like ink spilled in water.

“Goooood,” the door chortled, as if he was watching her with voracious eyes.

Kendra felt her whole body beginning to transform into something ugly and wretched. She looked down at her hands and saw they were becoming deformed, like the claws of an Unger. She was becoming one of them. Yet, as this happened, the memory in her mind sped forward; like a rock rolling down a hill, it could not be stopped. The memory had to play out.

So, even as she changed into an Unger, Kendra continued to see poor Kiro in her memory, waiting for the Ungers to snatch him. As an infant in the vision, Kendra could feel Kiro’s hands shake as he held her. Then, at last, he placed her tiny body into a crack in the rocks, trying to hide her from the approaching beasts.

“Quiet now,” he whispered bravely. “Not a peep! Okay, Little Star?”

But it was too late. The Ungers were there. With their rough claws they tore him away, forever. She squeezed her eyes shut and wailed. Then she felt the Ungers lifting her out of the crack. They tore open her blanket and glared at her with triumphant eyes. Then suddenly their expressions changed to confusion, then to fear. They had noticed something. She could see the terror on their craggy faces. It was her palm. They had seen the mark of the star.

“The forbidden onezum!” they screamed.

They dropped her to the ground and, just like that, they were gone. She was left all alone amidst the wilderness, a baby on a ledge of rock, and there she would lie until Uncle Griffinskitch would discover her hours later. But now Kendra left the vision behind and returned to her eleven-year-old self. Her mind was reeling with the last words her brother had ever said to her: “Little Star.”

This struck her.
Kiro was not the only one to have called me that
, she thought.

“Don’t worry about it!” the door snapped, sensing her struggle. “It was your brother! That’s what he used to call you.”

No
, Kendra thought.
Someone else
.

“Who else?” the door demanded. “Who else other than your brother would call you that?”

“Youzum right,” Kendra declared, shocked at the sound of her voice, now changed into that of an Unger. “Only brotherzum.”

“Yes . . . the last thing he said before they took him,” the door snarled. “Those monsters. Those Ungers.”

The Ungers
, Kendra thought.
That’s right. Kiro IS the only one to ever call me that.

And then, in one moment of clarity, everything suddenly made sense.

Trooogul.

He was Kiro.

Kiro was Trooogul.

He was her brother.

He had been transformed into an Unger, all those years ago—just like she was turning into one at this very moment. There were no monsters in this maze at all. Uncle Griffinskitch, Oki, herself—all of them—they
were
the monsters. They had all transformed into the very things they loathed.

And now, something else happened. She was changing again. It was like she was coming to the surface of the water, as if she had been drowning and now suddenly had been thrust to the top, finally able to breathe again.

Kendra rubbed her eyes. She looked down at her hands. They were Een hands again. The transformation had stopped. She was still herself.