Coleman / Perrin Death of the Good Wizard

1. Auflage 2011
ISBN: 978-1-935178-22-4
Verlag: Coleman Perrin
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 193 Seiten

When middle-schoolers Gregory Guest and Yolanda Torres travel back to the land of legend, they find themselves in a completely unexpected story and a reality full of new dangers-including one very persistent dragon. This time, their adventures include an unexpected trek into the hazardous historical reality behind the Arthur stories. 'A fascinating tale with elements of Camelot woven into a modern mix of science fiction and fantasy.... Will appeal to tweens because of the fantastical elements, and may even learn a thing or two about how legends come to be.' Lisa Barker at Biblioreads http://biblioreads.blogspot.com/2011/06/death-of-good-wizard-ages-9-12.html Author notes, excerpt: www.chironbooks.com/Wim&Pat_Red_Monocle_series The Death of the Good Wizard is the second book in the highly-praised Red Monocle series. (You don't have to read them in order!) 'Three cheers and a heads up for the talented authors of the RED MONOCLE series!' Midwest Book Review RED MONOCLE-An adventure series about the importance of stories. Middle-schoolers Gregory Guest and Yolanda Torres face monsters, magic, and personal challenges when they follow an eerie passageway into lands of myth and legend. In their struggle against a mighty evil, they make surprising discoveries about themselves. International award-winner: 'Children's Book Series' category of the 2011 International Book Awards Red Monocle 1: The Taker and the Keeper is also available as an ebook. Aided by their eccentric science teacher and a magical red monocle, Gregory and Yolanda travel into the King Arthur story to save their real world from a legendary threat. Red Monocle 3: The Invisible Foe (2012) introduces the African trickster Anansi, who first unleashed stories into the world. In further Red Monocle books young readers will delight in more great myths and legends.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Coleman, Wim

Perrin, Pat

Leseproben

2
Something Amiss
Words on the book’s pages were changing, switching places with amazing speed. Some disappeared, others appeared out of nowhere. Gregory couldn’t even read a single sentence, the words were jumping around so fast. “Is the whole book like this?” asked Gregory. “A lot of it. The last half, anyway. And remember, Merlin gave me strict orders to watch my book. He said, ‘If you see anything that’s amiss, please come to our aid.’” “We’ve got to show this to Mildred and Palamon.” Gregory and Yola trotted toward Mildred’s house. When they got there, the door opened before they even rang the bell. “Thank goodness you’re here!” exclaimed Mildred. “Palamon’s gone!” “Gone?” echoed Gregory. “Where?” asked Yola. “I have no idea! I just went out for a little while to buy groceries, and when I got back, he wasn’t here! Oh, I’m worried half to death! He doesn’t know his way around town at all! And nobody can understand what he says! And car traffic—that’s still a complete mystery to him! He could get into awful trouble!” “I’m afraid it might be worse than you think, Mildred,” said Yola uneasily. They hurried into Mildred’s cluttered living room, where Yola opened her book on a table. “Oh, my!” murmured Mildred. “I’ve never seen a paper book do anything like that before. Could it be some kind of computerized microcircuitry? Or maybe even nano-circuitry—circuits no bigger than molecules?” “That doesn’t matter,” grumbled Yola impatiently. “What’s important is that the book is changing again. I want to check something …” Yola turned to page 415, where it was written, “Merlin sent his apprentice, Palamon, to a faraway place to learn of other ways.” All the pages and words that came before that sentence were fine. But problems started after the sentence, and throughout the rest of the book the words jumped around wildly. “It does have something to do with Palamon,” sighed Yola. “Do you mean—?” gasped Gregory. “I mean that Palamon isn’t running around Bainesboro,” said Yola. “He must have gone through the tunnel to get back home. Whatever he did there caused this.” “And that means we’ve got to go back and fix the story again,” groaned Gregory. “Not so fast!” piped in Mildred. “I want to run some tests on this book.” “Fine, Mildred,” replied Yola impatiently. “You go ahead and run tests. Gregory and I are going through the tunnel right now.” A sense of dread swept over Gregory. On the other side of that tunnel, he and his friends had struggled against the sorceress Morgan le Fay. Her strange powers had been frightening enough, but it wasn’t Morgan’s magic that most terrified Gregory. He had sensed true evil in her, and he wasn’t sure that anyone else realized just how wicked Morgan could be. But he knew there was no escaping what they had to do. “We do have to go,” Gregory agreed glumly. “Before our whole world starts changing, like it did last time.” “Oh, no you don’t,” said Mildred pertly. “You two are not going anywhere without adult supervision.” “Okay, then,” said Yola. “We’d all better get moving.” “What about our clothes?” asked Gregory, forcing himself to think of practical matters. “That’s right,” said Yola. “Everybody there wore clothes from the Middle Ages.” Merlin’s Door—or Mildred’s wormhole, depending on whom you were talking to—didn’t lead to any particular historical time. Strictly speaking, it led to a world outside of time. But during their last adventure, everything there had looked a lot like England did hundreds of years ago. Gregory, Yola, and Mildred had seemed quite out of place in their modern-day clothes. “We need proper attire,” agreed Mildred. “And I know where we can find some.” The three of them jumped into Mildred’s car, and she drove back to the school. Using keys she still had from her teaching days, Mildred led Yola and Gregory into a musty room. “Of course,” cried Yola. “Costumes from the school plays.” “Let’s see,” Mildred mused. “Several years ago, the school did a production of Macbeth. The costumes must be here somewhere. Oh, yes—here they are.” Gregory found a tunic, blue on one side and green on the other, with long funny pointed sleeves. It was made from cheap, synthetic fabric and crudely sewn, but it looked a little like clothes he’d seen people wearing on the other side. He also found a pair of spotted tights and peculiar, slipper-like shoes with turned-up toes. “These look pretty silly,” he grumbled. “Now’s no time to get hung up about fashion,” replied Mildred. “They’ll have to do.” Yola and Mildred chose simple gowns that covered their arms and went all the way down to the floor. “I hope we don’t have to run for our lives in these dresses,” grumbled Mildred. “Well, at least you and I can wear our regular shoes,” Yola remarked to Mildred. “Nobody will see them under these gowns.” “These outfits are much too clean,” observed Mildred. “Everybody there was absolutely filthy, remember?” They carried their costumes outside, threw them down on a patch of dirt, and stepped on them until they looked about right. Then they rolled up the outfits, got into Mildred’s car, and drove toward the bridge. “My folks are expecting me home pretty soon,” remarked Gregory. “That won’t be a problem,” replied Yola. “Time passes differently there, remember? Last time, we were on the other side for a whole afternoon. But when we came back, only a few seconds had passed here—almost no time at all.” Gregory knew that was true, but he still felt uneasy about going back. “What happens if we get killed over there?” he wondered aloud “Well, yeah,” admitted Yola. “There is that.” “Nobody’s getting killed,” snapped Mildred. “Not on my watch.” “So cheer up,” advised Yola, patting Gregory on the shoulder. Mildred parked her car on a street near the end of the bridge. The three of them got out and made their way through the space between the bush and the railing. Then they skidded and scurried down the ravine’s steep slope, dodging scrubby trees, weeds, and briars. At the bottom, they stopped beneath the bridge, at the edge of the rocky creek that ran through the ravine. They changed into their borrowed costumes and turned to face the blank concrete wall that supported the street overhead. All three just stood for a moment, staring at the wall. With a sigh, Gregory tugged at a string around his neck. He pulled out a monocle—a red glass circle with a metal frame—that he wore on the string. “Does everybody have their lenses?” he asked. “Sure,” said Yola, reaching into her backpack for her bent pair of glasses with purple lenses. “Of course,” Mildred replied, pulling what looked like a pink magnifying glass with a black handle out of her purse. “I carry it with me wherever I go. As a matter of fact—” “Don’t tell me,” said Gregory, managing a slight grin. “You come down every day to check and see if the tunnel is still here.” Mildred’s eyes widened. “How did you know?” she asked. “Because that makes three of us,” laughed Yola. They all looked through their eyepieces at the concrete wall. Gregory felt a familiar tingling sensation. Yola once called it a “mix of cold chills and static electricity.” And now, right in the middle of the wall, an arched opening had appeared. It was the hidden tunnel they had entered before. Merlin said it was his magical door, and Mildred called it her wormhole. Gregory found their arguments about it a little childish. “I see it,” he said. “Me, too,” said Yola. “So do I,” added Mildred. “So—who goes first?” asked Gregory. “I think the Taker of Risks should have that honor,” replied Yola with a mischievous grin. “I agree,” said Mildred. “I sure don’t like that name very much,” grumbled Gregory. Even so, he was stuck with it. Taker of Risks was a title he had been given on his last visit to the world beyond the wormhole. And indeed, the name had come with a lot of risks to life and limb. He hoped that this visit to the other side of the tunnel would be a bit less … well, risky. Carrying their regular clothes in bundles, they walked toward the opening. Gregory stepped into the tunnel first, followed by Yola and Mildred. As always, the world outside vanished—the creek, the weedy banks, everything. It was as if someone had dropped a thin white curtain across the...