Chapter 1

Uncle Sero meets the Drearies

It all began so well…

      “My, what a beautiful morning!” - Bluebell cried and was out of bed in an instant. It was a fine morning indeed. The sun was already shining, the clear sky was unusually blue, and the birds were chirping at the top of their voices, while in the distance the rapid Light river sang and rustled.

      “I’d better hurry and get going if I want to pass Daisy, or she’ll get to school first as usual.”

      Bluebell shook her head to put her disheveled hair in order, doused her face from the watering can, grabbed an apple, the first one that came to her hand, slapped on her old blue hat that looked much like a bluebell, and, slinging her book bag over her shoulder, darted out onto the street. As she ran past a puddle, she stopped to wink at her reflection, and then ran on. At the corner of the street she nearly knocked old grandpa Sero off his feet, but as soon as she found her nose nestled against his white beard she bounced right back and called out cheerfully:

      “Oh! Good morning, grandpa Sero! Please don’t be angry with me, I’m in a big hurry.”

“Well, run along then, and may the fairies keep you!”

      Bluebell was out of sight in no time, but Sero kept standing there looking far into the distance, where the Black mountains could be seen looming on the horizon. Something he couldn’t identify was bothering him, and now he decided to visit She-Who-Tells-Fortunes and ask her to look into her magical red poppy, into the very heart of it, to learn what awaits the Flower Country in the near future.

      She-Who-Tells-Fortunes lived at the very end of the street, in a small house beneath an old fly-agaric mushroom. Its red roof with white spots on it looked rather lopsided – but what made up for it was that nary a fly could be seen in or around her house, and even birds avoided flying too close, thus not disturbing her with their noise. The red poppy grew in the courtyard of the house of She Who – Tells - Fortunes. No one except her could peer into the heart of it. The red poppy would let her into its secrets, and she was the only one to know them. Old Sero had lived to remember many of those who had tried to peer into the red poppy, but they had all died or gone mad and been driven away to live in the Swampy marshes among the frogs and water spiders.

      Old Sero was moving slowly along the wide paving stones and there running towards him were school children. He saw their multicolored little heads sweeping past, as they greeted him in their clear voices and his heart filled with joy. He was quite close to the house of She-Who-Tells-Fortunes when he heard Hoguar, the house guardian, barking. The dog would never let himself bark for any trivial reason.

      “Something has happened,”  Sero  thought and hurried on.  In

only a minute or two the house of She-Who-Tells-Fortunes came into sight, its gate open, and shaggy Hougar was there, standing at the entrance and barking. Sero went over to him and gently patted the back of the dog’s fluffy neck.

      “Come on, boy, what is it? What’s disturbing you?”

      Hougar wagged his tail in a friendly manner and went running back into the courtyard. Sero followed him.       There in the courtyard,

right at the foot of the red poppy, sat three dwellers of Dreary town. Their sad faces spoke for themselves. Dreary town was renowned for the fact that its citizens never smiled or laughed or looked glad at all. When the sky above the town was clear and blue, they would say that rain and mud would follow it sooner or later, anyway. When the sun was bright, they would insist that heavy cloud would come to obscure it. In spring, when the cherry trees began to blossom in their town, the citizens would become even sadder, for they were sure that soon a harsh wind would spring up and all the blossoms would be swept away, or birds would come and peck the cherries, or green caterpillars would appear and eat all the leaves, and so on and so on. That’s the way they were, those Dreary town folk.

      As Sero entered the courtyard, the Drearies sprang to their feet and greeted him respectfully. Sero raised his hand to salute them in his turn and then asked what had brought them to this place.

      “We’ve come to see She-Who-Tells-Fortunes, but she’s not home yet, so we are waiting for her here.”

       “I have also come to talk to her – let us wait together, if you do not mind. As for now, will you tell me what happened and why you need to see She-Who-Tells-Fortunes?”

      “Grandpa  Sero, you  are  surely  aware  of  the festival coming

next  month,  the Blooming of the Magic Flower, the main celebra-

tion in the Flower Country? But the fact is that there is very little water in the Blue Lake now. The Light river is growing shallow  before our very eyes, and no one in the Meadow kingdom knows the reason. It’s become harder to search for the springs of Living water. We used to find them by following the Drinking Deer that lives in the Deep Blue forest, but it has been a long time since he came to our call. We’ve come to She-Who-Tells-Fortunes in need of help. Perhaps the red poppy will tell her why the Light river has become shallow and how we might save the Living water and make the Blue Lake full again.”

      “Well, you are right to have come here, and I will wait for She-Who-Tells-Fortunes here with you, too, if I may.”

      Old Sero sat on the bench kindly pushed towards him by one of the Drearies, and closed his eyes. He began to dream of the past, the Green World where he had been born and the Flower Country he lived in. He remembered the Colored Worlds, some of which were only known to him from the legends and tales told by his father, Ariel, a citizen of the Azure World, yet there were some he had gone through himself. He could remember clearly and distinctly much of what he had experienced, but many things had begun to fade from his memory like a dream, leaving only a resounding echo of longing in his soul.

      He still remembered those bygone days when the Green World stood as one undivided land, inhabited the happy Zelmirs. But, as time went by, the Green World began to change until it had splintered into several kingdoms. Many feuds and wars were then waged between them. Some time afterwards, the forest kingdom had been formed in the Green World, from which the Meadow kingdom, perched on the very edge of this World, later became separated. So far, it was quiet and peaceful in the Green World. The Flower Country where he lived was a part of the Meadow kingdom, and, when seen on a map, it appeared not to be very great, but it was inhabited by happy creatures who called themselves the Flowers. Kolukor, king of the Meadow kingdom, often invited Sero to visit him, and Sero could always give him practical advice, for he was old indeed and had seen much.

      Old Sero half opened his eyes, but saw the Drearies still sitting beside him, which meant that She-Who-Tells-Fortunes had not yet come. So he retreated once more into his memories. He loved the Flower Country and was happy to live in it, but on those many nights, when sleep would evade him, he would think of the Azure World. His father had often told him about it, and his father’s tales were now evoking vague recollections in Sero’s mind. According to those tales, the way to the Azure World was long and difficult. Impassable deserts and swamps, secret woods and the Cold Ocean, the Gresob’s territories along the Ring road and the dominions of the tenacious and wily Six-Armed One lay on that way – but, as his father used to say, all  those  obstacles  could be overcome by someone who was steadfast in their purpose.

      “Remember, my son,” his father had often told him, “ that the blood that runs in your veins is that of the Spirits of the Azure World.”

      Sero also remembered his friend Deglas who used to tell him that there was a way to get from the Azure World into the White World, and that somewhere in the Colored Worlds was the Scintillating stone that could open the gates to the White World, although no one had found it yet. Deglas had never mentioned where that Scintillating stone was supposed to be hidden, but those who heard his tales would keep hope in their hearts that one day it could be found, and then the gates to the White World would be open for everyone.

      Never did Sero assume that in the near future things in the Flower Country would turn out in such a way that some Flowers would have to traverse all the Worlds to find the Scintillating stone.

      Old Sero stirred and opened his eyes. The sun had been shining red-gold on the treetops, and he reckoned that he would not have to wait much longer.