The Whisperwood Ordinaire

By Linda Tiernan Kepner

Chane Pili, a gypsy teenager, becomes the accidental possessor of one of the greatest magical weapons in the desert city of Belestria. His only hope to free himself of this deadly treasure lies with Master Alchemist Doctor Griswald Grimm and his apprentice, Fleet. But someone else knows that Chane is the possessor of this coveted magical item, and deadly strangers begin to appear on the street of dreams. Then Chane’s home is attacked by kidnappers, and the alchemist’s friends and allies become involved as a deadly firestorm begins. Who is pursuing them? And did the creator of the ordinaire have other deadly secrets, as well?

Meet the werewolves, wizards, soldiers, and spies of Bob Liddil’s world, as they step out of the pages of “Sorcerer’s Apprentice Magazine” and into a deadly contest of magic.

This story was originally proposed by the late Bob Liddil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Tiernan Kepner
• Release date: Oct 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781617208799

Linda Tiernan Kepner

Linda Kepner lives in New Hampshire and works as a professional librarian. She has a general science/liberal arts degree from Eisenhower College. She writes genre fiction - science fiction, fantasy fiction, and romance.

Book preview

The Whisperwood Ordinaire

by Linda Kepner

Chane Pili, a gypsy teenager, becomes the accidental possessor of one of the greatest magical weapons in the desert city of Belestria. His only hope to free himself of this deadly treasure lies with Master Alchemist Doctor Griswald Grimm and his apprentice, Fleet. But someone else knows that Chane is the possessor of this coveted magical item, and deadly strangers begin to appear on the street of dreams. Then Chane’s home is attacked by kidnappers, and the alchemist’s friends and allies become involved as a deadly firestorm begins. Who is pursuing them? And did the creator of the ordinaire have other deadly secrets, as well?

Meet the werewolves, wizards, soldiers, and spies of Bob Liddil’s world, as they step out of the pages of Sorcerer’s Apprentice Magazine and into a deadly contest of magic.

This story was originally proposed by the late Bob Liddil.

The

Whisperwood Ordinaire

By Linda Kepner

From an idea proposed by Bob Liddil

Flying Chipmunk Publishing

Bennington, NH

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or locations is purely coincidental, and in the imagination of the reader. Certain characters used in this story — Griswald Grimm, Fleet ’o Fleet, and Freerover the Bard — are the inventions of Bob Liddil, and are used here with his generous permission.

All Rights Reserved by the author. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher, except short passages for the purpose of reviews.

The Whisperwood Ordinaire

By Linda Kepner

Copyright © 2011 by Linda Kepner.

Smashwords Edition

Editing and Format Copyright © 2011, 2012 by Terry Kepner.

Please Help Fight Internet Piracy!

Scanning and uploading this novel to the internet without the author’s permission is not an act of flattery. It is an act of theft. It not only disrespects the author; it violates the author’s copyright and literally takes money from the author’s paycheck by distributing copies of this book for which the author gets no payment. If you like the book, and want to see more from this author, don’t take away her incentive to write by making it impossible for her to earn a living from her writing.

The Whisperwood Ordinaire

Published by Flying Chipmunk Publishing

162 Onset Road

Bennington, NH 03442

ISBN: 978-1-61720-432-6

1-61720-432-3

eBook ISBN: 978-1-61720-879-9

Cover Design by Terry Kepner, adapted from Mosque El Mooristan, Cairo by David Roberts, 1796-1864.

Frontispiece: A Turkish Bazaar (1854) by Amadeo Preziosi, 1816-1882.

Alley of the Old Time (1878), Ebers, Georg. Egypt: Descriptive, Historical, and Picturesque. Volume 1

Fountain and School (1878), ibid.

First Flying Chipmunk Publishing edition: November 2011. EBook edition published 2012.

Table of Contents

About This Book

Book Title

Copyright

Preface

Frontispiece - A Bazaar.

Illustration #1 - He didn’t really remember this alley, but it was on a part of the street he did not frequent.

Illustration #2 - Intricate wooden grillwork blocked off the corridor window.

1. Chane

2. G. Grimm, Proprietor

3. The First Wave

4. Kidnapped (Yet Again)

5. Freerover

6. High Assault

7. Law & Order

8. Matter of Record

9. Tantalizer

10. Zaglad Darkfire

11. The Mim Family

12. Taken

13. Cavern

14. Aleref

15. Possession

16. This Is Good-bye

Extra — Sample Chapter from Playing the Game

He didn’t really remember this alley, but it was on a part of the street he did not frequent.

In Memoriam

Bob Liddil

Bob Liddil (b. July 1947) began Dungeons and Dragons™ gaming under the instruction of his good friend Jack Powers in the late 1970’s. During that time, Bob wrote and published Dimensions and Doors, Castles and Kingdoms, Demons and Notmen and designed Certificates of Birth, Life, Death, Survival, Slavery, Manumission, and the all important Master Scribe’s Certificate, (sort of The One Ring of certificates), a certificate that authorized or entitled owners of blank certificates to issue certificates. These were later incorporated into The Masterscribe’s Kit sold through Zocchi’s of Biloxi and The Armory of Baltimore, both pivotal distributors of dice and all things gaming.

Bob knew the great Lou Zocchi, and the late impetuous Roy Lippman, both guru level distributor-entrepreneurs during the heyday of D&D gaming. It was due to the enthusiasm of those pioneers and others like them that Bob’s publications actually got into the hands of game fans around the USA and Canada. Many of these can still be found on eBay and other online auction and used services.

In the 1980’s Bob authored The 30-sided Character and Other Tales on a commission for The Armory, then authored The 30-sided Adventure and Other Tales, featuring a gorgeous Ruth Thompson cover, for publication by The Armory. Those were followed by: Rascals, Rogues, Rapscallions And Renegades; Little Shop of Poisons and Potions; and Apothecary On The Street Of Dreams in association with Pandora’s Treasures and Dallas Nillsen, creator of Pandora’s Dice Wheel.

Bob turned to fiction in the late 80’s and early 90’s, penning Dragon in a Box, The Old Troll Comes To Town, Feodor Felonis and the Thief, and Yorkshire Luck for "Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Fantasy Magazine," followed by The Blue-eyed Thief for TSR’s Dragon Magazine. His science-fiction murder mystery short story, Murder Under Glass was published in Mike Resnick’s well-received anthology, Whatdunnits. Shortly thereafter Bob’s long sought after membership in the prestigious Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America was accepted. Along the way, he inspired others with ideas and challenges, including The Whispherwood Ordinaire, by Linda Tiernan Kepner, which is only now seeing print.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Bob started and ran a computer software business, The Programmer’s Guild, which released numerous computer programs and led to the books The Captain 80 Book of Basic Adventures, and a new (especially for the Commodore 64) version of Castles and Kingdoms.

Bob Liddil passed away on 2 May 2011. He was loved by many, and was truly a gentle giant. He will be missed by everyone who knew him.

— Terry Kepner

the

Whisperwood Ordinaire

Intricate wooden grillwork blocked off the corridor window.

-1-

Chane

The cloth bazaar of the desert city of Belestria was a lively place, bustling with customers and in constant motion with rainbow bursts of colored fabrics waving in the breeze. In the clamoring throngs and the exchange of coinage, no one noticed a gnarled, stooped old man dressed in dusty desert togs, as he made his way through the maze of stalls and past the fountain at the center of the square.

His goal was a dirty alleyway beyond the bazaar. The apparent emptiness of this alley belied its size and its dangerous reputation. The old man knew that he had found the spot he sought.

To anyone who had bothered looking, the man appeared almost ancient. He grasped a long, stout length of stick for support as he walked. Feeble? No, not that; but dependent on that stick. He was soon lost from sight in the most dangerous alley in the city.

Following discreetly behind the old man was a thief. No casual observer would have noticed him, because he was good. A professional stalker. He was following his quarry at such a distance that he was unobserved by the object of his efforts — or so he assumed.

Here, in the unnamed street of dreams of the city of Belestria, lawlessness was the rule. Any attack — or any defense — would go unnoticed and unchallenged by the residents of this street. There were no police guards on the street of dreams, no army, no taxes — no assistance. The old man stepped around the bodies of men and not-men, asleep or dead or in the throes of their particular vices. The old man quickened his pace. In less than a hundred yards this alley would open into the wider avenue of the street of dreams.

In the half-lit gloom between the windowless buildings, no sound could be heard except that of staff striking stone and the shuffle of the old man’s footsteps.

The thief moved cat-quick and ghost-silent, rapidly closing the distance between himself and his quarry. He moved with an ease that allowed him near invisibility. The old man was quickening his pace. Soon he’d be in the open, in comparative safety. Now was the time. Intently the thief moved forward...

And slammed into a gypsy boy coming from a side alley. They collided, the impact rolling them both onto the cobblestones in a heap.

Gods CURSE YOU! CLUMSY IDIOT! the thief swore, his element of surprise instantly blown. He leaped to his feet as fast as he could. But before he could execute a single step to continue his pursuit, the gypsy — who, like all gypsies, objected to being cursed — angrily knocked him to the ground again with a well-executed leg trip. The hot-headed gypsy teenager pounced upon him angrily.

The old man heard the blows and the struggle. He stopped, turning full round. The look in his eyes showed that he had indeed known of his pursuer. As surprised by the turn of events as his shadower, he wavered. Then, he turned back toward the scuffle.

The old man could see that his pursuer was entangled in a wrestling match with a gypsy boy who was absorbing hard blows and giving them back in kind. But several blows had told upon the young boy, who bit off a bigger chunk than he could handle when he assaulted a professional killer. The thief pounded him with hard body blows. The gypsy boy was weakening. It was plain that the stalker would settle for nothing less than his death, now.

Lightning struck.

A blue glow engulfed both combatants: a crackle of raw power which surged through both fighters’ bodies. The gypsy boy relaxed immediately and released his grip on his foe. There was a crack as at least one bone broke. The killer grunted.

The bolt shoved the gypsy onto the cobblestones, stunning him. He lay paralyzed, seeing and hearing what happened around him.

The old man now stood fully erect, left hand outstretched. In his right hand, the wooden staff was bathed in a brilliant blue light which extended to the thief and which held him erect and motionless. There was a look of terror etched on the face of the thief and one of pain on that of the old man, as he slowly elevated his captive up and away from the ground — ten, twenty, thirty, forty feet into the air. Then, he closed his left hand into a fist and brought it abruptly down. The blue aura winked out and the thief fell screaming back to earth, landing with a sickening thud not ten yards from the gypsy.

Satisfied, the old man wheeled and began to walk away very slowly. Within twenty steps, however, he stopped, startled. He turned back toward the boy and sank slowly to his knees, his hand sliding down the length of the staff.

The gypsy struggled to his feet and made his way past the ruined thief to the kneeling old man. Are you all right?

There was a spark of life in the old man’s eyes. He did not speak at first, but studied the young gypsy intently. Then, with great effort, he pulled himself completely erect and extended the staff to his arm’s length.

The gypsy did not flinch, but kept his gaze locked on the gaze of the old man.

Take hold of the staff, the old man commanded. Grip it firmly and with authority.

The boy did as he was told. He swayed and nearly fell. Everything went black. He could neither see nor hear. Then, his vision cleared.

The old man lay on the cobblestones, dead. In the gypsy boy’s own hands was the staff.

Shocked and puzzled, Chane Pili grasped the staff tightly, and started walking. He knew that he had better not be near when the two bodies were discovered. Although he was one of Belestria’s many orphans, Chane was of gypsy blood, and proud of it; but what had happened here was more drastic than gypsy magic. He needed help. He thought of his friends. His friends were apprenticed, in most cases, to their fathers, in ordinary city businesses — with one exception. Fleet. His master was Griswald Grimm, whose middle name was drastic.

Chane picked up his pace down the street of dreams.

-2-

G. Grimm, Proprietor

Chane reached the shop. Like all the buildings in this section of town, it was a nondescript stone-and-mortar structure with wooden beams and lintels. It had a small wooden stoop hardly big enough to stand on. Above the door, a sign read:

Apothecary. G. Grimm, Prop.

But to the rest of the world, this was simply known as The Apothecary. Through the tiny four panels of thick glass in the door Chane saw light and movement. He opened the door and entered the shop.

This portion of the street of dreams was narrow and fairly dark. Chane’s eyes scarcely needed adjusting to see the shop’s interior. A dusty old wooden floor showed where many customers, large and small, had whiled away their time, waiting for service. Immediately beside the door was a high stool, presumably for those who needed to sit while they waited. A pair of waist-high counters, six feet back from the door, blocked the entire front of the shop, with a passage between them to admit access to the rear sections, which were in darkness. The high shelves behind the counter blocked off further view. Small windows on the walls to left and right, and a medium-sized window in the same wall as the door, allowed a fair amount of light in through very thick glass. Multiple rows of wooden display bins running along the wall under the side-windows and front window held small packets and jars. Built into the fronts of the counters and upon the nearly floor-to-ceiling partitions directly behind the counters were shelves containing all manners of boxes, jars, pouches, pots and other containers. Everything was scrupulously labeled and clearly priced — the visible inventory of the apothecary.

A blond teenager was cleaning counters and glassware whose daintiness contrasted strangely with the armor-thick glass windows. His hands were quick and sure. He moved about the shop at alarming speed, but stopped and turned at the sound of the bell as the gypsy closed the door. May I help —? Oh, hi, Chane, said Fleet O’Feet. What’s up?

Something weird just happened to me, Chane replied. Let me tell you about it.

Okay, just let me put this jar away —? Fleet stared at the shelf where he had been about to set the glass jar. A blue-white haze had settled over the face of the shelving. Puzzled, he tapped it. It resounded with a solid klunk. What the —? He looked around. Every counter, shelf, and bin in the Apothecary was sealed in the same fashion.

Surprised, Chane looked too. What is it?

I don’t know, Fleet replied puzzledly. I hope I can figure it out before —

WHAT IN THE NETHERHELLS SET OFF THE BURGLAR SHIELDS?

Oh, said Fleet meekly, so that’s what it is.

A frightening apparition came from the darkness behind the cabinets – a huge, tall bearded man. Doctor Grimm appeared larger than life and twice as menacing, with something deadly in his hand to defend his premises. One look at his guest, however, told him to file the episode under Teenage Boys, and he put back whatever weapon he had pulled from his belt. One glare from the alchemist was worth a thousand words.

I don’t know what set it off, said Fleet.

It happened after I entered the shop, Chane offered, and I did have something strange happen to me this afternoon.

That strange? Fleet inquired.

That strange, Chane affirmed.

Talk first, shield removal later, said Grimm. I have no desire to turn my shop into a pillar of flame.

Um — me neither, ’specially if I’m in it, said Chane. He leaned on the wooden walking-stick and told the story of his encounter with the thief and the old man.

For the first time ever, Chane noticed, Grimm wasn’t scowling at him. He was intent, following every word, as if Chane were any of the remarkable customers who showed up at this shop. The giant alchemist stood at the opening between the front counters, hand resting upon one edge, absorbing every word. When Chane finished, and held up the walking stick for his inspection, Grimm waved it aside.

It was very fortunate for you that you relaxed when you felt the magic bolt, Grimm said after a moment.

My gypsy uncles and aunties have tricks like that. I’ve got so I recognize the feel. I didn’t want my spine broken, or anything.

Your temper got you into this.

I know. When he swore at me, I lost it. He was my size, maybe a little smaller — but he was awfully good.

If you continue to work for Captain Sypos, Grimm commented, you should learn proper self-defense. Flailing away is not enough.

Chane took a deep breath. I’m — not working for Captain Sypos any more, he admitted. After his arm healed, he let me go.

What? Fleet exclaimed. Why didn’t you ask to stay on?

Apparently it was Chane’s decision, Grimm said quietly.

I liked the horses, and working with them and the cavalry. But marching, and orders, and some stupid sergeant abusing me — that was too much. I’d rather take my chances on the street.

Understood. Grimm seemed perfectly willing to accept that explanation, unlike other adults Chane had encountered. Grimm’s thoughts were elsewhere. Do you recognize the fact that you have a serious problem?

A problem, yes. How serious, I’m not sure. Like Fleet, Chane had not survived so many years on the street of dreams without some wit and instinct. That thief was after something. And seeing how this was what the old man passed on, it must be the item worth stealing. It’s more than a walking stick, isn’t it?

It’s an ordinaire, Fleet said. Even I figured that out.

Dark lad glared at light lad. In Grimm’s presence, however, the gypsy bit back his first reply. Very good, he said, in carefully-measured tones. Want to tell me what that means in common-tongue?

It’s a magician’s staff, Fleet told him. And the old man was a magician. An ordinaire helps a magician channel his power.

More than that, Grimm demurred. "A good ordinaire, in the hands of a good magician, nearly becomes a familiar — nearly. It becomes his second sight, his second skin,

Reviews for The Whisperwood Ordinaire

[chris177 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This fantasy adventure book was extremely fun to read. The story’s main character, Chane Pili, is interesting and exciting. His allies, the mysterious Doctor Griswald Grimm, the beautiful Sri Karnuth and the wonderful Fleet O’Feet, are just as clever as the gypsy boy Chane is in this wild adventure. I was truly sad when I came to the end of the book. I hope that author Linda Kepner will write more tales for this fantastic team of characters.