The Revision Ravine: Irving Wishbutton, #2

Revision Ravine

© 2014 Brian Clopper

First Published: April 30, 2014

Published by Behemoth Books

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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Contents

Acknowledgments

1. A Knight to Remember

2. An Axe to Remind

3. Dead In the Water

4. Deem to Glean More About the Dean

5. The First Cast

6. Getting Bogged Down

7. Tools of Destruction

8. Hatchet Job

9. An Eye for Mischief

10. Treading Not So Lightly

11. Wishes to Spare

12. Breath Wish

13. All Fired Up

14. Echo Relocation

15. A Fundamental Shift

16. Short End of the Stick

17. Marvin’s Gardens

18. Drugging a Dragon

19. Stump Speech

20. A Nest of Unrest

21. Fleeing the Flock

22. Plundered Memories

23. An Unsettling Site

24. Stark Raving Ravine

25. Impending Upending

26. Court of Sporadic Appeal

27. Lost in Thought

28. Ears to the Ground

29. Permeable Prison

30. Falling for Roon

31. Scarved for Attention

32. Dissolved Resolve

33. Not-So-Trivial Pursuit

34. Large and Not In Charge

35. Drown and Out

36. Cup Runneth Over

37. Facing Expulsion

38. Passing Notes

39. Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

40. Taking Note

41. Hearing Raid

42. All the Stairs a Stage

43. Solid State

44. At Harm’s Length

45. Grit and Wit

Author’s Note

Acknowledgments

A big thank you to Keith Robinson for coming along on all my journeys and telling me when I get it right and when I need to go back to the drawing board.

Chapter 1

A Knight to Remember

After three days of being laid up in bed with a stomach bug, he was finally feeling well enough to write. He would go back to school tomorrow. Having endured so many days with a sub, his class would be a little out of hand, but he’d quickly rein them in and get back to prepping for their quarterly assessment, which was only two weeks away. He slurped at the bowl of broth perched next to his keyboard. He felt a little guilty working on Irving when he should be resting up, but he couldn’t take another second atop a mattress. He’d only work an hour or two, see how much progress he could make on the chapter.

Irving was back at Wish Haven confronting the Wellwishers about his sister’s abduction. After being pushed to the side by the judgmental quartet, Irving turns to his father. His dad confesses he knows where Tyler may have been taken. Irving goes along with his father, using his father’s dimension-hopping staff to whisk them away. Irving’s mentor, the sproutling, declines to follow them.

He knew he needed a chapter dealing with the villainous Teardrop before the Wishbuttons waltzed into her lair. Was it too early for a confrontation? He decided it was okay to have them meet the villainess. After all, it wasn’t like they were going to take her down halfway through the novel. Just get in and get out with Irving’s sister. And maybe along the way, meet the spellcaster who had sabotaged Teardrop’s plan.

A bout of coughing overtook him, causing him to knock his spoon to the carpet. He picked it up and pushed the half-eaten soup farther from the keyboard. He stabbed at the keys with a renewed sense of urgency. After a stretch of nearly five days without writing, it was always a chore to dive back in. With how easily the first few paragraphs unfolded, his nervousness abated and the chapter fleshed itself out with gusto.

****

Roon crashed through the woods ahead of me, not caring if the branches she stumbled through cut into her forearms. I proceeded with more finesse.

Behind us, the rooftops of the academy were completely obscured by the grove of tall trees we had just passed through. I adjusted the straps of my backpack to avoid having either fall across my wishbutton. While it didn’t have any wishes stored in it, I knew my author would soon be changing that. No sense accidentally triggering one.

Professor Warhinder had pointed out to me that my connection to my creator was special, that very few characters knew the thoughts of their author. My Soul Searching teacher had said there was one other at the school with that ability. So far, I only knew that Sarya wasn’t like me.

Roon, could you slow down? Not all of us want to be pelted by thorns and springy branches.

My companion stopped and turned slowly around. Sorry. I just wanted to make good time.

Her pale complexion along with her exposed fangs reminded me that I was tagging along with a freshly minted vampire. Roon along with her brother had been the first to greet me upon my arrival at the Questing Academy. Then, they had been zombies. Their author had scrapped that monstrous lineage and rebranded them as another type of undead. In the switch, Roon’s brother had been cut from her narrative. He had been revised out of her life. No longer an actual character in a story, he had been banished from the school, sent to where we now headed: Revision Ravine.

I noticed my labored breathing. Roon was hardly winded at all. I wondered if she even needed her lungs. Maybe a little breather. I fetched a water bottle from my pack and took two swigs. Offering it to her, I hunched over and sucked in two quick breaths.

Roon took the bottle and managed only a swallow before tossing it back to me. Her chest didn’t rise or fall at all, whereas my own was in constant upheaval. I stowed away the bottle and smiled. You don’t need to breathe, do you?

No.

I nodded and wiped the sweat from my brow. A quick check told me Roon didn’t perspire either. Her skin didn’t glisten in the least from our early morning workout.

She looked up at the sun. We’ve only been going for about an hour. Don’t tell me you want to turn back.

I shook my head. No way. I told you I would go.

She grinned, deliberately avoiding exposing her long fangs.

Can I ask you something?

She fingered a simple chain draped around her neck. Shoot.

How are you connected with your author? I asked.

She frowned, clearly not expecting my question. Well, like anyone else is, when she writes my story.

Like on paper or on the computer?

She doesn’t write longhand. It’s all done on her laptop. Why?

I shrugged. No reason.

Roon’s detective side took over. Is that how your author works with you?

Smart girl. I knew I couldn’t gloss over our topic. She would keep at me until I spilled. I know what’s going on with my story when my author writes it down.

And?

And also when he’s just brainstorming.

Her eyes widened. You mean when he’s just thinking about your story?

I nodded. Warhinder said not many of us can do that.

She’s never brought that up in our class. Roon’s eyes narrowed. You asked me because you thought I was like you?

I nodded. She told me one other person is like me and that I’ve already met them.

Roon smirked. And you thought it was me?

You and Sarya. I’ve only asked the two of you.

The jittery fairy girl?

She knew who Sarya was. Her flippant response surprised me.

Roon resumed walking, her pace slower.

I followed, saying nothing more.

We continued up a rise. Thankfully, the heavy underbrush thinned out and we were soon moving briskly through a meadow of waist-high purple grass.

Roon said, I know it was hard for you to come with me today. You could’ve stayed back to take care of your sister.

It didn’t make sense to. Tyler was not in her right mind. The events of last night played again through my head. Our author had swapped her mind with that of a savage monster, a Triceramedusoid. That had been fortunate timing on my behalf as the tentacle beast had been about to chow down on me in the Menagerie. After fleeing from that almost lethal situation, I had raced to my sister’s side. With the mind of a frenzied creature now in her body, she had gone haywire in the dorms. Dean Harmstrike had arrived before me and taken her off to the infirmary for observation. No reason to stay. We aren’t supposed to come in contact with any of our own cast. I decided not to tell her how Harmstrike had promised me I could see my father today. If I had revealed that, she would’ve called off her expedition.

Her voice dropped an octave. Still, I want you to know I appreciate you coming with me.

Hey, another chance to break academy rules? I’m always up for that. I heard the distinct sound of rushing water ahead. There must be a drop-off leading to a river. From our current position, the waterway was hidden.

Roon must have heard the water, too. She froze and assumed a defensive crouch.

What’s wrong? I whispered, ducking down.

She scanned the last few yards of meadow.

From her alarmed expression, I half-expected a giant water creature to leap out of hiding and pounce on us. It’s just a stream or river, right? We just have to find a way across or go around it.

A deep-throated voice added itself to the gurgling of the unseen waterway. I couldn’t make out what the mystery person was saying, but both of us were surprised by the speaker’s delivery. Is that singing? I asked.

If you want to call it that. Roon dropped to her belly and crawled forward, drawing closer to the disturbance. I followed suit, scrambling over the terrain with far less grace.

In a few minutes, both of us were at the meadow’s edge, looking down into a steeply sloped valley. A wide river ran through the center of the landscape. Standing chest-deep in the fast-moving water was a very muscular man, every chiseled aspect of him screaming warrior. A scraggly red beard trailed from his chin, disappearing into the water. The man was about twenty feet from shore. On a large rock, a suit of armor was propped up along with a rather nasty battleaxe.

The man’s alleged singing cut out. He spun about and glared in our direction. It was like he had sensed us.

Base savages, make your way to me slowly and with your hands up. If I see even the hint of aggression, I will introduce you to Edith. The warrior strode toward his discarded armor and weapon, moving with assurance and not the least bit of urgency.

Roon stood and raised her hands. I mirrored her actions.

The river warrior stepped out of the water, thankfully garbed in a simple cloth wrap. It wasn’t quite underwear, but it did the trick. He never took his eyes off of us as he toweled himself dry with a green cape.

We skittered down the steep slope. I lost my footing and reached out with my arms to keep myself from face-planting into a particularly rocky expanse.

Steady, young fellow. The man secured his armor, fastening his black boots and gloves last. He thumped at the sturdy chest plate and slipped his left hand onto the handle of his axe.

Roon said, We don’t want any trouble.

The armored man chuckled. And I will certainly give you none, but I’m sensing the same isn’t true on your part. The two of you stink of trouble.

The axe did something very un-axe-like. It spoke. Dearest, don’t be so boorish. Not everyone we encounter is overflowing with treachery. Give these two lovebirds the benefit of the doubt.

The man sighed. Very well. He pointed his weapon at us. You have exactly three seconds to tell us why you’ve fled school grounds. If I don’t like your answer . . . He grinned, exposing yellowed teeth. Then you will feel my wife’s bite.

Chapter 2

An Axe to Remind

The axe was the man’s wife? Why this was so hard to swallow, I couldn’t say. I had already met a talking lamppost, and Fenwick’s mother had been cursed to occupy a bird’s body. Not that she could do more than squawk but still. I should’ve been more accepting. Of course a sword, or in this case, an axe, could carry on a conversation.

Sensing the wife was more even tempered, I addressed her. Ma’am, we’re sorry to intrude. We’re merely passing by. Thinking the knight might appreciate their mission, I added, We’re on a quest.

The knight’s features indeed softened. He let a grin slip across his face. A royal romp, you say? A trek to find some long-lost relic or family member? Which is it?

Roon glanced at me, her eyes betraying that she knew what I was attempting. She drew her hands together in a pleading grasp. Oh, please, fair warrior. Let us pass uncontested. We are indeed on a quest to find my brother.

The warrior sighed and appeared to lose interest. I wondered if it would’ve been better to make up some unusual artifact. Would that have kept the man’s enthusiasm up for our endeavor? I thought that to be the case.

The axe said, Sit yourself down, Knarl. Hear these people out. They’re missing family. You know well how helpless that makes one feel.

Knarl slumped to a resting position against the large rock behind him. He rolled his shoulders slightly forward and fiddled with the grip on the axe. I hoped the weapon wasn’t ticklish.

The axe said, I am Lady Edith of Laxbroughton and my husband is Knarl. Sorry about his disposition. Once Knarl’s in a huff it’s hard to bring him down.

Edith didn’t have a face or mouth, but her voice issued from the head of the axe. It was sweet and rich in timbre.

Roon executed a restrained curtsy in the direction of the couple. I am Roon Umberdare.

I bowed slightly, feeling foolish.

Roon waved at me. My companion is Irving Wishbutton. Her cheeks reddened. Don’t believe everything you’ve heard about him.

I cringed. If these two were associated with the school, they had probably already heard of my antics. Which dreadful escapade of mine would they choose to bring up: the emberhound attack at the Office of Fine Aunts, my misadventure with Raggleswamp under the library, my failed rescue of my own sister, or the mess I had made in visiting the off-limits Menagerie just last night? The library was the least likely incident to see the light of day as Harmstrike had probably kept that under wraps. The others had been common topics of gossip on campus the past three days.

Knarl scrunched up his face and walked over to me. He looked me up and down. My up-close inspection was limited to my own eye level, which fell at about Knarl’s massive chest. With the impressive warrior only inches away, I was too afraid to move my head in any direction that could be construed as sizing up. A small fish struggled to free itself from the lower half of his beard. I did my best to ignore its squirming. Freeing the little guy seemed like a gesture that might incur the grumpy warrior’s ire.

Are you some sort of magician or wizard?

He was referring to my jacket. With its tails and overwrought stitching, it was far too flashy. I slid my hand toward my wishbutton, fearing Knarl might push it. No. In my story, I work for the Wellwishers. I gather up misplaced and forgotten wishes and deliver them back to Wish Haven. At least I’m supposed to.

He smiled broadly and thumped me once on my back, almost driving me into his still wet and fishy beard. Ah, you’re a noble hero like me!

Roon scooted over to me and whispered, I don’t think they’ve heard of you. Something tells me these two aren’t campus regulars. I can’t say I’ve ever seen them around.

So we have a hero out and about. The axe then whispered, And what are you, Roon? Another protagonist? Most definitely not a damsel in distress.

Roon smiled, pleased at Lady Edith’s assessment. I’m a vampire detective, part of a pair. My brother was by my side up until two days ago.

Did Harmstrike force the two of you apart? Knarl said. His silly rule about not letting cast members mix is utter hogwash.

I wondered if these two, being a couple, were out here because they didn’t agree with Harmstrike’s rule. Had they fled the academy to be together? Is that why the two of you are out here?

Knarl laughed. Heavens, no. the dean never told us we had to abandon each other. We’re caught up in a curse, Irving. That gives us special permission to stay by each other’s side. He nodded at Roon. My guess is the same is true of you and your brother. If your author deems you a close-knit pair of nosy busybodies like you’ve said, then there’s no reason the two of you should be apart.

Well, there’s one reason, I said.

Roon stiffened. I knew she didn’t want to say it.

What is it? Knarl asked.

Her brother got sent to Revision Ravine.

Knarl sucked in a quick breath as his wife gasped.

Lady Edith said, Oh, you poor dear . . .

Roon stood and froze, only her long black hair blowing in the slight breeze. Finally, she said, The two of us are going to find him, bring him back.

Lady Edith said, Oh, child, that’s not for you to decide. Your brother had to leave. He was written out of your story. Your author has other plans for him.

Knarl’s voice was heavy. Perhaps another volume will be penned of his exploits. You can’t change his fate. It’s not your place.

Roon bit down on her lower lip, drawing a trickle of blood with her left fang. I can’t let him go. I don’t want to.

I jumped in. Who says she can’t bring him back? Why is that even a rule? Shouldn’t all of us band together and support each other? Why is everyone so ready to follow Harmstrike’s rules?

Knarl frowned. His eyes betrayed a great weight upon him. Because rules keep one safe. If you break them, bad things can happen. The large warrior gave Lady Edith a telling look.

His wife said, Knarl speaks from his heart. The two of you should turn back. You risk too much.

How do we risk anything? I knew my voice was shaky, but I continued, "We’re just characters from stories, waiting for our writers to finish our tales and