Wicked Runaway: A Mark Cannidor Adventure

Chapter Twenty-One

When Mark woke of the following morning, he had the worst migraine he had ever experienced. There were all sorts of horrible thoughts floating around his head. Ideas about working for the king as a spy. He wasn't talented enough for that. Or was he?

Stop creating these ludicrous thoughts!

His conscience was always getting the better of him. Maybe that was good?

And what about Bartholomew? He would never have guessed that he had such a connection with Malcheffi. Then again, many people had similar connection with the most feared wizard of the age. Perhaps this was why Mark was covered by so much protection? Maybe he had something in common with Malcheffi?

Go downstairs and do some work!

Everyone else was still asleep. Jeremiah was snoring. Mark would have given anything to exchange places with Jeremiah. He didn't have a care in the world. Clearly. He was sound asleep, enjoying every moment of peace he had. No one was trying to kill him. At least, Mark hoped no one was trying to kill him. With everything that had happened up to now, the last thing Mark wanted was to lose his two best friends. That would have been heart-breaking for him.

Mark managed to sneak downstairs quietly. He drank some water from the faucet. It was crisp and clean. The Cannidors had no clean water back at home, which is why they had to boil water first to purify it. The water at Knotley's Forest, however, was simply delicious. Mark was fascinated.

He was startled that Bartholomew was asleep downstairs. He had to tread around quietly so as not to cause any disturbances. If someone woke up, he might land into trouble.

The house was rather small, now Mark thought about it. It was a den filled with books. Mark was surprised to see that most of his favourites were there. Great Expectations. Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Tom Brown's School Days. Little Women. All the books by novelists he admired. There were Shakespearean plays, factual books, and cookery books. Mark knew his mother enjoyed cooking once upon a time. Perhaps she used some of these books to cook some of her own recipes.

Nonetheless, he picked up the funniest looking book he had ever seen.

A Goblin's Guide to Good Old Grub

A Cookbook by Groggy Matherson

A Goblin's Guide to Good Old Grub. Mark would have laughed loudly if the situation allowed him to do so. All the same, he found a chair and sat down, hoping to spend some time flicking through the book at some of the recipes.

Just like that book by Mrs. Humble, the goblin book was glued shut.

Perhaps the book can only be read by a true wizard, Mark thought glumly. He felt rather upset about that. If he didn't have any magic inside him, what was he? Who was he? More importantly, how could he act as a spy for the king without knowing any magic to begin with? Almost seeing his future drift away before his very eyes, Mark started sobbing.

This was hopeless. He was never going to make it out of here. He had no idea how he was going to contact his parents, but they could have been dead for all he knew. There was his Grandma Irene, but the problem there was that he had never met his grandma before now. The very thought of learning magic seemed almost impossible now. How could he learn something if he couldn't open a simple spell book?

At that moment, Bartholomew stirred loudly. Mark tried to remain quiet, but it was no good. Bartholomew was awake. He stretched, yawned widely, and stood up, gaining his senses. He turned round and noticed Mark sat on the chair, book in his lap, looking miserable.